A/N—Jenny Nimmo owns Charlie Bone. I own nothing.

Note: I've only read books 1-5 (I may have finished number 6, but I can't remember...), so this takes place right after book 5. Also, I have no idea how long this will be. Long, definitely.

Summary: Lyell Bone is back. Charlie has returned to school, but something's wrong. Someone's not targeting just him anymore. His friends are in danger—big danger—and the trouble starts from day one.

Please read/review!

willshakespeare-immortalbard

Charlie Bone and the Wandering Captor

12:00 Midnight

Filbert Street shuddered. The sidewalk rippled, the cracks gaping open briefly before closing in again. Something dark shifted in the shadowy abysses, sucking in the rolling chestnuts that had fallen from the shaking tree. The hissing of the leaves masked the eerie sounds that would have been audible otherwise—a grating scratch, like nails scraping across a surface not quite smooth.

The second vibration shook not only the sidewalk, but the street. Cars bounced lightly, and the wind howled over the shrieking alarms, the tornados of leaves spinning through the air, hiding the glow of the lights. A sudden eruption of chestnuts spilled out from the cracks in the sidewalk, spinning around like tops, bunching together like magnetic balls, crowding around a single step.

A flash of lightning spider-webbed across the sky, and the tarnished bronze marker above the gathering step shone briefly: a dirty, rusty, cracked metal 9.

6:30 AM

"Goodness!"

Maisie shoved back the kitchen curtains, gesturing out onto Filbert Street. "Charlie, if you weren't going to school this morning I'd have you out there sweeping all those chestnuts up. I do say. We must be on more of an incline than I originally thought, because it seems that every single chestnut on the street is congregated about our step."

Charlie swallowed his cereal, grimacing as a little went down the wrong tube. "I'm done with breakfast, Maisie. I'll go do it quick. I don't have to leave until seven, and I'll have my bag outside in case the bus shows up." He pushed his bowl back—"Don't be so careless, boy! You'll spill everywhere!" issued from the hallway, where Grandma Bone was prowling about the umbrella stand—and snatched up the broom and dustpan.

"Thank you, dearest!" Maisie said, kissing him on the forehead and shoving a handful of chocolate chips into his hand. "Here, have a little snack on the bus." She wrapped up a few more chocolate chips in a bit of clear wrapping and said, "For Fidelio."

Out in the hall, Grandma Bone glared at the package in Charlie's hand. "No stealing from the kitchen! You had your breakfast, and you'll have your lunch at Bloor's!"

"Maisie gave them to me!"

"Not those, I bet she didn't! And you don't need two handfuls of chocolate!"

"They're not for me. They're for Fidelio Gunn."

What followed was a muttered rant about Fidelio being an unendowed little upstart. Charlie bit his lip, determined not to bring Grandma Bone's wrath down on him, though he couldn't help but smirk at his grandmother when Amy Bone chided from the kitchen,

"Griselda, Fidelio's a perfectly nice boy. Leave him alone."

"Bye, Mom! I'm outside sweeping while I wait for the bus," Charlie said quickly, running into the kitchen and embracing her before toting the broom and dustpan outside.

Benjamin immediately came running across the street, Runner Bean loping at his heels.

"Hey, Charlie," he piped. "How are you?"

"Good. Just sweeping up all the chestnuts—Maisie's right. We must be on an incline, because we got all of them."

Benjamin nodded gravely, bending down to gather up a few straying nuts. "I'll help you out."

"Thanks, Ben."

The boys quickly abandoned the broom and simply used their hands, occasionally tossing a nut at each other. The cold November wind had chilled the chestnuts overnight, and they could see their fingerprints on the rough surface when they pulled their fingers away.

"What on...this is weird," Charlie muttered absentmindedly, turning a chestnut over in his slowly reddening hand. "Someone scratched something on this."

"Really?" Benjamin asked, leaning over.

Someone had engraved a messy symbol onto the chestnut.

"Ewww...it looks like they used their fingernail," Benjamin said. "Yuck. That's worse than using your nails on a chalkboard."

"Mmm-hmm." Charlie nodded. "I'll be right back. I'm going to run upstairs and quick ask Dad and Uncle Paton abo—"

The bus horn blared, and Amy Bone leaned out the kitchen window, yelling, "Catch the bus, Charlie, love! I'll see you Saturday!"

"Bye, Ben! Bye, Mom!" Snatching up his bag, Charlie dashed for the bus, the chestnut still clutched in his hand.

The bus was crowded—more so than usual, Charlie was absolutely certain—and it proved difficult to locate Fidelio.

"Cha-aa-aa-aa-aa-aar-lie Bone!" Fidelio sang out, turning Charlie's name into a scale while hefting his violin case up into the air.

"I'm not singing," Charlie told his friend as he squeezed into a seat.

"Shame. Fidelio sounds so nice when you sing it: Fi-de-e-e-e-e-li-oooo!" Fidelio grinned widely after finishing his second scale. "You have chocolate on your mouth."

"Oops. Speaking of chocolate, Maisie says that these are for you."

"Chocolate!" Fidelio cried joyfully. "Tell her I said thanks when you see her next," he added as he unwrapped the chocolate.

"This is also for you."

"And a chestnut. Thank you!"

"Fido, look at it."

"Why?"

Charlie took his hand away from his mouth and turned the chestnut over.

"Oooohhh," Fidelio oohed with all the tact of a proper audience. He held the chestnut up to the bus' shabby lighting, and spun it around like it was some sort of gem.

"I've no idea what it is," he confessed after a few minutes. "What is it?"

"That's what I don't know," Charlie sighed. "I was going to ask Dad and Uncle P., but I didn't get a chance. I was hoping maybe you'd know."

"No, it's a mystery. But it looks an awful lot like a carving of 'Sanders I saw...oh...it must have been at an exhibition about 3 years ago—because I didn't know you yet. So I'd ask him. He might not know exactly, but he may know a bit more."

"Good idea." Charlie pocketed the chestnut as the bus pulled up to Bloor's Academy.

Bloor's Academy seemed to grow older every day, and while that was, technically, true, Charlie could never really explain what he meant by it. To him, it seemed that for every sunrise and sunset that passed, Bloor's became different. Different in a bad way. Since his father's return, the feeling had only gotten stronger, and what had before been a nagging whim now took the form of literal waves of power that Charlie could feel emanating from the building. He didn't bother telling Fidelio. The unendowed boy was perfectly happy-go-lucky, content with his violin and his now finished chocolate, and Charlie saw no reason to ruin his mood right before assembly. Also, a grouchy Art student was practically snapping at their heels, and Charlie wasn't inclined to be called crazy until after assembly.

"Hi!"

They got only a brief glimpse of Olivia, bedecked in hues of brown and orange, before Manfred barked, "Silence in the hall, Vertigo!" and shoved her under the masked arches.

"I bet she gets a detention for that," Gabriel Silk muttered once Charlie and Fidelio were inside the blue coatroom. The long faced boy had stood in the archway and watched the small show, and his gloomy voice matched his sad face.

"What's wrong, Gabriel?" Charlie asked as he plunked down onto a bench and rubbed at his feet.

"Nothing, really. I'm just tired."

"Why?"

"I was up late last night helping my dad write his novel."

"Is it almost done?" Fidelio asked.

"Yes, it is. He just needs one more chapter left, and he hopes to have it done by the time I get home this week."

They hurried out of the coatroom and on to assembly, where they met Billy Raven.

"Hi, Charlie! Fidelio. Gabriel."

"Hey, Billy!" Fidelio high-fived the small boy as he passed on his way to the other violinists. Gabriel smiled tiredly, and Charlie grinned as he took his spot.

"How was your weekend?"

"Good. I went home with Olivia, and we watched a lot of movies." Billy's red eyes sparkled happily behind his glasses. It made him look much more his age, Charlie noted.

"Seen any of the others? Tanc? Or Sander? Maybe Emma?"

"Lysander isn't here, I know."

"Why not?" Charlie moaned, fingering the chestnut in his pocket.

"Didn't you hear? He never showed up at home on Saturday."