James Munkers (21 page)

‘What the hell are you doing here?' I ask Will, irritated that he's prowling about pretending to be a bad guy. ‘You're supposed to be taking that thing out the back.'

‘I'm bloody well trying to,' he snaps, wiping the paint from his eyes with his free hand. ‘This place is a damned fire trap, I can't find an exit out into the grounds anywhere.'

‘Down here,' Jem calls, and we follow him along a hallway and down a set of steps towards a glass door leading out into a playground. We're just about there when two Hoarders – the ones that chased Claire, Win and me through the woods – appear outside the door, snarling in at us. The three of us skid to a halt.

‘Or we could go a different way,' Jem says, and we turn and run back up the stairs just as the door explodes behind us.

We race back through the dark maze of the deserted junior school, the Hoarders on our tail. Every now and then a light explodes overhead, or a bookshelf begins to topple onto us, and I have to throw up a protection shield like a big umbrella over the three of us. Only we're getting further apart from each other as my lungs start to cramp up, and the protection shield gets thinner the further I stretch it. Will pauses for a second to grab my arm and pull me forwards, shouting, ‘Get a move on!' It's alright for him – he hasn't been strangled and smothered, and the Jesus doll is making me feel ill again, and they're both all athletic and stuff. I've never been good at sport.

Finally we spot a green exit sign and race towards it. I swing the door open with my mind before we get there, then slam it shut and lock it once we're through. It's not going to hold them for long, but it might give us a few extra seconds.

‘Round the back,' Will roars at us, and he and Jem take off like it's the start of a one hundred metre sprint, not the end of a marathon. I try to keep up, but they disappear round the corner of the building miles ahead of me. My legs are shaking, my eyes are watering, and I've got a stitch in my side. I hobble to the corner and turn around it.

I don't get more than a couple of steps before I stop dead.

Will and Jem are standing a few yards in front of me. Beyond them is a mound of wood, twigs, hay, and what looks like a hastily demolished cardboard sleigh, all piled up in the middle of a snowy courtyard. Peter is standing next to it, holding his hand out to shield Garth. And beyond the pile of wood stands Mr Grayson with Winifred in his arms.

I look at my little sister in despair.
We should have left her back in the flat
, I think sadly.

She wouldn't have been safe in the flat
, Mr Lancer's voice says in my mind.

Mr Lancer
, I think in surprise.
Where are you?

Coming, now that I've found you all.

Come faster, then. Win's in trouble.

She'll be alright
, he says.
She's got her big brother there to protect her.

The urge to vomit returns, but I don't think it's the Orb this time.

Me? But I can't protect her! I can't protect any of them!

‘I'm disappointed in you, my old friend,' Mr Grayson is saying to Will. ‘The William I knew didn't mess up his priorities with something as sappy as emotions.'

Yes, you can
, Mr Lancer says.
I'm not going to get there in time, James. You're the one who has to stop Grayson.

But I can't. He'll use the Orb.

So use it against him. Take control of it.

What?

‘What is it with you and pathetic little girls, anyway?' Grayson jiggles Winifred up and down, looking at her curiously, obviously trying to work out the attraction. Winnie screams and kicks her legs ineffectually at him. ‘Now why would you give up my company for that?'

‘Well, she's a lot cuter than you are,' Will says.

Mr Grayson laughs. ‘Granted,' he says, ‘but your preference for the cute things in life has left you a wee bit powerless.'

You've got a connection to the Orb, Jim. You said it yourself. Use it. Reach out to it and take control.

But Kit said the connection was there because it's controlling me! She said I was dangerous and I couldn't be trusted and –

It doesn't matter what Kit said, or what anyone else says
, Mr Lancer says sharply.
Just trust yourself.

I think of all the times I've made mistakes or made a fool of myself. I think of the last few weeks and how I thought I was going crazy. I think of the lies I've told the people around me, and Michael calling me irresponsible. I think of Mum, my aunts, the four policemen, the three neighbours and the seven therapists who didn't believe me when I was four years old.

Nobody's ever trusted me. Why should I?

I can't.

Try.

I take a deep breath and push my mind out towards the Orb in Will's hand. I ignore all the talking and yelling and just concentrate on getting to the doll's head. The closer I get, the stronger the resistance becomes and the sicker I feel. I push on anyway, until I'm an inch away from it, wavering on the brink. Hatred pulses from the Orb, telling me to get away, that I can't have it, that I'm useless and powerless and pathetic and I can't do this.

Yes I can
, I tell it.

I close my eyes.

‘My dad disappeared when I was four,' I whisper.

The resistance stops. The nausea fades. I plunge into the Orb, and a scream that seems to come from the direction of the woods echoes around my mind before everything goes dark.

It's warm.

I open my eyes and find myself in a sphere of blue energy, pulsing gently around me. It's quite relaxing, actually. I watch the shades of colour as they cascade down the sides of the sphere, melding into each other like different flavours of ice-cream when they start to melt and you swish them around with your spoon until –

Did you want something?

Jeepers! Who said that?

‘Hello?'

Hi, there.

Still nobody. ‘Are you the Orb?' I ask.

Sure am. What can I do you for?

Huh. Seems friendly. Is this really the thing that's been making me hurl all over the countryside?

‘Well, we've got a bit of a situation outside, don't know if you've noticed. There's this Hoarder that needs mind-controlling.'

Which Hoarder?

‘The one just outside. Evil. Red jumper.'

Who, Grayson?

‘Yeah, that's the chap.'

The Orb hesitates.
You want me to mind-control him more?

I frown. ‘What do you mean?'

I'm already controlling him. Been doing it for weeks.

‘What? He's being controlled? By who?'

Whom.

‘Whom, then.'

I don't know.

‘Well, that's very helpful,' I say sarcastically.

Look
, the Orb says in a testy voice,
I don't take inventory on who uses me. I just do what I'm told. You don't like it, take it up with the person who made me.

‘Alright, alright.' Blimey. It's like dealing with a petulant teenager. ‘Well, we don't like the way he's being controlled. I'd like to change it, please.'

To what?

‘Oh, I don't know. Can't you just wipe his whole mind? I think that would solve our current dilemma.'

I could do that, sure
, the Orb says.
It takes a lot of energy, though. You might want to stand back a bit, or you might lose your French vocab or early childhood or something.

‘Okay, no worries. Hey,' I say, thinking of something. ‘Energy from where?'

Huh?

‘Where does your energy come from? Kit said you weren't powered by the Twelfth or Thirteenth Dimensions.'

Oh, no. I'm a human-dimensional power… thingy.

‘Hey, me too!'

Oh, nice!

Well, how about that. I made a friend.

‘Okay, well, I've gotta go. You'll handle the Grayson mind-wiping stuff?

Leave it to me.

Suddenly I'm back outside again, the cold night air biting at my face. Grayson and Will are still exchanging unpleasantries, Peter's still shielding Garth, and Winifred's still squirming in Grayson's arms. I must only have been gone for a second.

I quickly move my power out of the Orb and into a protection shield surrounding it. I have to time this right.

‘Here you are,' Grayson is saying to Will, ‘about to give the evil genius a device that will give him total power over an entire town, all for a couple of girls.'

‘Am I?' Will challenges.

‘Yes, you bloody well are,' Peter says in a choked voice, staring helplessly at Winifred. ‘You have to!'

‘Do it,' I say calmly.

Will hesitates. I can't tell him my plan, but he must know something's up – he's never heard me be calm before. Then he steps around the pile of wood and holds out the doll towards Mr Grayson, who reaches out his hand and grasps it. Will continues to hold onto it. ‘Hand her over,' he says dangerously.

Mr Grayson's mind prods at the Orb, and finds me there skulking around it. ‘I'll take it without the protection shield, thank you, Mr Munkers,' he calls out across the courtyard.

He can only feel me there. He can't feel the Orb itself, growing hotter and faster and more insistent, pushing at my shield, trying to break its way out.

‘Give her to Will, and I'll take it off,' I tell him.

‘I don't actually think you're in a position to give orders, sonny,' he says, giving Winifred a squeeze that makes her cry out. ‘Take the shield off.'

Fine. Have it your way.

I rip my shield away from the pulsing Orb and surround Winifred with it. Then I hurtle her into Will's chest with such force that they're both sent flying backwards to land in the snow on the other side of the wood pile. A second later a bright blue light springs out of the head of the doll and surrounds the roaring headmaster in its sizzling sphere. The light reflects off the snow, and the rest of us jerk our heads away from the bright glare.

Then suddenly it disappears and, turning back, I see an ordinary-looking man standing in a snowy courtyard with a rather dirty doll in his hand, a blank look in his eyes. We all stand around looking at this empty man. Then Mr Lancer appears from behind me, puffing a little. He pats my arm, walks up to the ex-Mr Grayson and takes the doll out of his loose grip.

‘It's alright,' I say. ‘I have control over it now.'

‘Nobody should have control over this,' he replies.

Will picks himself up, passes Winifred to Peter and pulls out a hipflask from his jacket. He empties the contents onto the mound of rubbish. Then he hands a box of matches to Garth. ‘There you go, kid,' he says. ‘Light her up.'

Garth grins at him and grabs the matches, and after a few goes one flares into life. He throws it onto the wood pile, which blazes into a nicely burning fire. Mr Lancer walks up and throws the doll on top of it.

We all watch quietly as its plastic face disintegrates in the flames.

It turns out Chaplain's Orb can't be burned. It just becomes a messy plastic lump from the melted doll's head, with charcoal thrown in for good measure. We also try smashing it to pieces with spades and swords, without success. Garth picks it up and throws it at a window. The window breaks. The Orb doesn't.

In the end we decide to bury it.

Which was a great decision, until I'm volunteered to dig.

Will and I walk up the track into the woods with the Orb in a sack, and get to work digging it a nice hole to live in.

‘This doesn't feel very maximum-security,' I say, taking a well-earned break. ‘Shouldn't it be put in a bunker or a safe or something?'

‘And draw attention to it?' Will says from the bottom of the hole. ‘This is safer. No one knows it's here and the Guardians and Hoarders can't sense it.'

‘I can.'

Will grunts. ‘You sense a lot of things that no one else can.'

‘It's gone, you know,' I say, peering through the trees. ‘The presence is gone.'

‘What, the shadowy presence that lives in the woods and takes control over evil Hoarders and stalks your dreams?'

‘You still don't believe me?' I say incredulously. ‘I was right about me not being mind-controlled, wasn't I? I suppose I could sense the Orb when nobody else could because we're both human-dimensional power… thingies.'

Will grunts again. ‘Maybe.'

‘So?'

‘Well, all I've got to say is, if this shadow thing was strong enough to take Grayson down, it must be pretty damn terrifying.'

‘It is. I've been terrified for days.'

‘You're terrified of flowers.'

‘Who told you that?'

‘Claire.'

Bloody Claire. ‘Only pansies. They look like they've got faces. They're creepy.'

‘Uh-huh.'

‘Well, anyway, you lot could have started believing me
before
you left me up here on my own with an evil presence. And I don't see why I have to do the grave digging while the others get to de-zombify the teachers,' I complain, leaning against my spade and surveying Will's work. ‘You missed a spot.'

He empties his shovelful of dirt onto my sneakers. ‘Hey!' I screech, kicking my feet.

‘If you don't start helping, you're the one who's getting buried tonight,' he warns me.

‘Okay, okay,' I mumble, and move some earth about half-heartedly. ‘That's deep enough now, isn't it?'

‘Said the expert on graves.'

‘It's only a little mind-controlling orb.'

‘Do you realise what'll happen to us if anyone ever finds this?'

‘So we just make sure they don't,' I say.

‘What do you suggest, genius, that I guard the place day and night and kill anyone who comes near?'

A strangled sound comes from down the hill. We look up and see Martin Hacker, still a bit damp from his dip in the pool, staring at us with bulging eyes.

‘Oh, hi, Martin,' I say, waving a hand stained with red paint and walking down the track to meet him. ‘I'm glad I bumped into you. Listen, we really need to –'

He yelps and takes off down the hill as fast as he can go.

‘…talk,' I finish, confused at this change in our relationship. I turn and look back up the track to where Will, spattered in red and standing in a hole in the ground, is watching. ‘I wonder what got into him.'

Will shrugs. ‘People are strange,' he says, and keeps digging.

Finally we throw the sack into the hole and mound the dirt back on top. I can sense the Orb pulsing gently right up to the last moment.

There are still quite a few people milling about the school when we get back. Kids are running around, parents are chatting to each other, and teachers are looking confused over certain doors that have been pulled off their hinges and furniture that's been smashed. It sounds like nobody remembers anything particularly out-of-the-ordinary happening in the Christmas show this year.

Among those present is Mr Grayson. He's walking about with a blank smile on his face, saying “Merry Christmas” to everyone. He even says it to me and Will as he passes us by outside the main doors. Mr Lancer walks up to us with Jem in tow, and smiles at our bemused faces. ‘He seems to have picked up the phrase from some parents,' he says. ‘If I can teach him some inspirational sayings we might keep him on for Spring Term.'

I make some shushing noises at him, because Tracy Beckett's just walked up behind us, holding a plastic bag.

‘Hi, Tracy,' I say loudly. ‘So, did you find your elf shoes?'

‘Never lost them,' she says. ‘I just used them as an excuse to run around the school all evening.' She turns to Mr Lancer. ‘Warwick, the last of the staff has been mind-restored now, but there's still a mess to clean up in the hall. I think I'll hang around and get that sorted, if you don't mind.'

‘No worries, Tracy. Thanks for the updates tonight.'

Tracy winks at me and turns to go.

I don't believe this. Tracy Beckett is a Guardian? Miss Ponytail Girl herself? Jem and I exchange looks of disbelief.

‘Oh, I almost forgot,' Tracy says, turning back and handing me the plastic bag. ‘This is for you.'

‘What is it?' I ask, peering into it.

‘Christmas gifts for your family,' she replies. ‘I figured you probably hadn't had time for shopping, what with the world-saving and all, so I picked some things up.'

I rummage around in the bag – books, scarves, CDs. I look up in surprise. ‘Thanks.'

‘Don't mention it,' Tracy says. ‘I pinched them from “lost and found”, mostly. Except for Garth's present – I had to break into “confiscated items” to find something he might like.'

Yeah, that'd be right. My hand touches something sticky at the bottom of the bag. That must be it.

‘Anyway, I've got to run,' Tracy says. ‘I have to keep up my cover by snogging Richard Walters right in front of Emily Channing.' She rolls her eyes. ‘Work, work…'

And off she goes.

I should be happy – I just experienced my first perk of being the world's biggest freak – but I'm too worried. I turn to Mr Lancer.

‘You said in the courtyard that Pippa was going to be okay, right?'

‘Yes, I did.'

‘So? What's happening with her?' I ask, fearful of the answer.

‘Right now?'

‘Yes.'

Mr Lancer cocks his head. ‘She's debating whether to have brandy butter or brandy custard on her pudding tomorrow.'

He smiles at my look of astonishment and nods his head towards the wall at the bottom of the steps, where two young girls are sitting, chatting happily to each other.

My face breaks into a grin. I leap down the stairs at top speed, Jem right behind me, then slow to a nonchalant walk for the last few steps.

‘Thanks so much for all your help tonight,' I say to Pippa and Kit, jumping up to sit on the wall next to them. ‘Really clever, how you got yourselves all stabbed in the back and rendered unconscious like that.'

‘You're welcome,' Kit answers brightly, adjusting her posture as Will comes up behind her and wraps his arms around her middle.

‘In fact, all the Guardians were pretty useless tonight, apart from Mr Lancer,' I say critically. ‘I didn't see Tracy or any of your other pals pitching in against all the Hoarders.'

‘How many Hoarders did you see tonight?' Will asks.

‘Um, three, I think.'

‘There were twenty-two,' he says. ‘The other Guardians were fighting them off all evening so we could get to Grayson and the Orb.'

‘Oh. Well, I still reckon it was lucky I came along to help.'

‘Yes, it was,' Kit says. ‘Thank you.'

‘Did you have fun?' Pippa asks.

‘Tons. I got strangled and everything.'

‘And I got to use a sword,' Jem adds.

I peer at Pippa's face. ‘Promise you're okay?' I say seriously.

‘Good as new,' she says, smiling. ‘Kit fixed me.'

I look up at Kit in surprise. ‘You can do that? Heal people?'

‘Sure. How did you think we fixed your arm and nose the other day?'

I shrug. ‘I guess I didn't think.'

‘Not all Guardians can do it, but I got hurt badly once,' she explains. ‘Someone really powerful healed me. I was unconscious at the time, but I kind of remember how he did it.'

‘Well, did you have to be unconscious this time to fix Pippa? Because that was problematic.'

‘Sorry,' she says. ‘I couldn't break our connection fast enough. Won't happen again.'

‘Good,' Claire says, walking up with Peter, Garth and Winifred. ‘You scared the life out of me.'

‘What happened?' Peter asks.

‘Pippa got stabbed in the back.'

‘It was wicked,' Garth tells him.

‘Glad to oblige,' Pippa says dryly.

‘Now, you realise that this evening is one of those things we do
not
tell Mum and Dad about, don't you?' Claire says sternly to Garth and Win.

‘What, that the headmaster was trying to take over the world with a
doll
?' Garth snorts. ‘Please! That's too lame to tell anyone. My version is going to have spaceships in it.'

‘Throw in a few pterodactyls as well,' Will suggests.

‘So this is where you all got to,' a voice says behind us. Michael and Mum are walking down the stairs, buttoning their coats and looking completely normal. I scan their faces for signs of damage, and notice Peter and Claire doing the same.

‘So, Mum,' I say, trying to sound casual, ‘how did you like the show?'

‘Oh, it was lovely, dear,' she replies. ‘I thought you were all brilliant, especially when… when…' She frowns, then looks guilty. ‘I don't think I saw any of it. I'm sorry, love, I must have been distracted with work. I've been so busy, lately.'

‘Well you didn't miss much,' Michael says, laughing. ‘It sent me right off to sleep. I woke up slouched in a chair with nobody in sight. Not enough action sequences, obviously. Although, I do remember…' His eyes narrow. ‘Did some guy run off with Baby Jesus in the Nativity play? What was that about?'

Will looks at him disdainfully. ‘It was symbolic of how religious institutions have callously derailed Jesus' holy message for their own political ends for two millennia,' he explains.

Michael stares at him for a moment. ‘Yes, well, I think it might have gone slightly over your audience's head,' he says eventually.

‘Art often does.'

‘Okay, kids, let's start walking home,' Mum cuts in before the conversation can escalate. ‘Mince pies, hot chocolate, then bed. It's the big day tomorrow.'

For you, maybe, woman. I plan to sleep my way through it.

‘Good golly, there are two of you!' Michael exclaims. He's finally noticed the presence of two Pippas.

‘You knew that,' I tell him.

‘Did I?'

‘Yes.'

‘Oh, that's right. So which one are you going out with?' he asks me.

I point to Pippa.

‘And which one is Jem going out with?'

I begin to point to Kit, but freeze when I notice that Will is nibbling one of her earlobes. ‘Ah… It's complicated,' I say.

‘I'm very open-minded,' Jem says.

‘Yes, well, time to go,' Michael says briskly, and leads Garth and Winifred away in a hurry. Mum rolls her eyes, kisses Jem goodbye, and walks off with Claire and Peter sticking close by her side. My smile wavers as I think about what my parents have gone through these last few days.

‘They're fine,' Kit tells me softly. ‘They don't remember anything.'

I nod.
But I do
, I feel like saying. ‘Do you think I've done enough world-saving?' I ask instead.

She takes my hand and squeezes it. ‘No,' she says, ‘but you can have tomorrow off. Merry Christmas, Jimmy.'

I sigh, and smile wearily. ‘Merry Christmas, Kit. Merry Christmas, everyone.' And I walk off after my family.