House of Anubis: Sibuna Descending

11. A Late Scrub

"Ray, could you please switch your laptop off?" Ian asked, lying on his back in the dark. The only thing disturbing his sleep was the blue light that was being emitted from Raymond's side of the room, in front of the door. Raymond was sat up in his bed, his legs buried beneath the covers, his eyes buried into the contents of his laptop screen.

"Sorry, Ian," Raymond apologised. "Business never sleeps."

"And what business are you talking about?" Ian questioned him, before thinking again. "You know what? I already know the answer to that. Don't bother." Ian let his head fall back onto his pillow in exhaustion. Although the blue light was interrupting him before, he was now too tired to let it bother him, and he slowly drifted off.

"The Osirian is dead," boomed a voice that sounded like ten horns. "The Chosen One has therefore relinquished her body. Without her Osirian, the Chosen One is lost to the world. The Chosen One lives whilst the Osirian is buried...the prophecy is coming to pass. The balance has come undone...yes...the scales have become broken. My son" — the focus shifted from pure black to a cloaked man in a dimly-lit room — "thank you for your news. Continue to watch, keep your eyes open, don't let anyone fool you. Choose correctly."

The last two words resonated throughout Ian's head. Then, just as he had seen in his dream the night before he had to move, a red sun appeared with a six-legged silhouette under it, standing atop a large hill.

Ian shot up in his bed, his breathing heavy, his body sweaty. He reached for his phone from his bedside table and checked the time. It was only 11:30pm. An hour and a half passed since the lights were switched off by Mr Goodman. Ian reckoned he needed to wash his face and head into the kitchen for a glass of water, so after quietly slipping out of the room and washing his face in the bathroom two doors down, he walked across the hallway and into the kitchen.

There, on the floor, kneeled Trudy, scrubbing roughly at the floor with a massive sponge. Still fighting off sleep, Ian was startled.

"Oh," Trudy laughed. "Sorry, sweetie," she apologised, picking up on Ian being startled. "I just thought I'd do a bit of cleaning. Dexter left so much food on the floor with his three plates after dinner, and PJ keeps snacking and it's just...don't mind me." Ian was cautious to avoid stepping in the soapy foam that grew across the floor, and was also careful to avoid disrupting Trudy's work.

The cold water that ran down his throat from the glass was so refreshing and relaxing that he sighed heavily with a sense of satisfaction after he emptied the glass down his throat.

"Oh, wow," Trudy said, staring at Ian with a smirk. "Maybe I should've added more water jugs to the table instead of apple juice."

"Oh, no," Ian said, "it's nothing. I just had a bad dream, that's all."

"Ah, right," Trudy said. "Well, in all my time working with kids, I've uncovered the secret solution to bad dreams." Trudy got to her feet and faced Ian. "A nighttime stroll."

Ian was stunned. He wasn't even sure if he was allowed to be out after lockup. When he asked about this, Trudy said, "I'll unlock the back door and keep it unlocked so you can get back in. I know it seems a bit counterproductive to walk in the dark after a nightmare, but the cool fresh air and space makes you feel...right. Just please remember to lock the door after you get back in and return the key to Mr Goodman's office. Oh, and don't wander off. Stick close to the house."

After going through the laundry room and through the back door, Ian was breathing in the nighttime air. It was quite cold with Ian in his pyjamas, but Ian was still quite sweaty from his dream. The air always smelled so crisp in the morning and in the night, thought that may have been due to long periods of staying indoors. His family had called some time after dinner, like they had done the other three days of the week. There was no question about the necklace; Ian's father assumed it was safe with Ian, but Ian still had no clue as to where it was, and he was not searching as much as he was on Monday and Tuesday. He would just have to believe he would find it or he may never do. But this was a time of relaxation, of ridding himself of any stresses. No matter what he threw out of his mind, however, something always stuck in it as he walked closer to the school: the voice in his dreams. It mentioned something about a chosen one and an osi...Ian could not repeat the word in his head. But this chosen one apparently relinquished her body. Ian had no idea what this meant. Submitted herself to someone? Surrendered? Died?

"Oh, and thank you again, Miss Valentine," Simon Goodman spoke gratefully at the front of the school, causing Ian to drop down below the wall and out of sight. He hadn't noticed the two figures, now evidently Simon and Miss Valentine. Trudy told Ian to stay close to Anubis house; he would get in trouble if he was spotted this far out. "As I promised, the amount is all in the envelope."

"I still don't get why you insisted on paying me," Miss Valentine laughed. "It was a simple favour."

"No, no," Simon laughed. "This isn't for receiving the parcel. It's for keeping quiet."

"Sorry?"

"Not a word of this reaches anyone," Simon commanded, his friendly voice turning serious and ominous. "I emphasise on 'anyone'."

"Mr Goodman," Miss Valentine said as Ian peeked over the wall to observe the scene in the dark. She was trying to laugh this off, but Simon's sudden alternation was making her very uncomfortable.

"You have this money. You have no business telling anybody." Then, Mr Goodman's voice switched back to its amicable manner: "Think of it as a...simple favour." With a nod at Ian's teacher, he walked away in the direction of the house. Miss Valentine was left taken aback.

"What was that about?" Ian asked himself from behind the wall. "A payment for accepting a parcel on his behalf?"

With Simon heading to the house, Ian thought it would be a good idea to follow the caretaker back to avoid being caught this far away.