Tell the Story to Its End (19 page)

‘You all right?' he called. I nodded. My head was full of
noise
.

‘I'm fine,' I said. He frowned, squinting in the sun.

‘Right. Good. Here, don't I know you?' he asked.

I shook my head, my heart racing.

‘I've seen you, I'm sure of it. From the school, perhaps? I do assembly there, sometimes.'

‘I live here,' I said. ‘In Coxborough.'

In the silence Eren screamed and sighed.

‘No,' said the man, pulling his dog closer. ‘No, that's not it … but…'

‘What?' I said, louder, wary. The dog yapped and bounced.

‘You're that guy's son off the news!'

‘Shut up!' I screamed, as loud as I could, my throat and lungs suddenly burning. ‘You shut up about my dad!'

My face was raw with anger, my voice wild and howling and fierce. ‘Leave it alone! Just stop! Stop!' I stood for a second, frozen in surprise, glared at the man, spat on the ground.

‘I didn't—' he began, then stopped, looking worried, looking around. ‘I just—'

‘The lot of you,' I said. ‘The lot of you, shut up. Shut up!'

I ran, I ran, I ran. In the air all around, and the roar in my head, Eren sang and whispered his words. The dog was barking, echoing off, far, far away.

*   *   *

My face was hot and my sides were sore. I was alone, still raging inside. My breathing was hard. I was walking to Gran's house, to Uncle Rob's house. I had to find out what I could do. Em and Tak were probably looking for me, or searching for those reporters. Maybe they were even asking Em's dad about it all. I didn't care, I really didn't. In the high, clear sky, flocks of starlings twisted and turned above the pines. What a joke. All this light, all this space, and suddenly it all seemed so empty. I was angry, almost impossibly angry, clenching my fists and gritting my teeth. I spat on the ground again. Lies and half-truths and stories. Stupid. I knew things
they
didn't know. I had Eren. He was a story those journalists would kill for. He'd kill them if they even dared to tell the world. I was sure that he could kill, if he wanted. I smiled at that, then my stomach felt cold and heavy and I stopped. ‘Eren,' I said under my breath. It was magic, that word. Pure, mad, magic.

‘Eren, Eren, Eren. What do I do?'

Of course he could hear me. How could he not? He was in my head. White eyes in the night. Black eyes in the day. A quiver in the shadows, a haunting in the woods. Flames in the sky, cracks in the moon. He was
real
, something so much bigger than … than this! I slapped my hands against a fence post, kicked at a dandelion and left it, broken and dead. He was real. This was the joke. I walked faster now, almost laughing. He would be laughing too, up in the loft, up in the hidden, hiding place.

Yes, he would.

*   *   *

I knew Mum would be looking for me. Maybe Rob had phoned the police. I had to be quiet, getting into the house. The back door was best, and it wasn't even locked. Easy. I took my trainers off, tiptoeing in my socks. Every noise was sharp and clear. The clock was ticking. The wind rattled a window somewhere. A siren in the town wafted in on the breeze. I heard Rob's voice. I heard Bekah in the living room. I had to get upstairs quickly in case they opened the door and saw me. The shining painted banister creaked if you leaned on it too hard, so I kept my hands away, creeping in, creeping up. I knew he was shifting around in the attic, scurrying and watching. The weight of the house above me pushed down on my mind. Rob's voice again, a sudden bitter laugh. News of Dad? News of me? I rolled my eyes at the closed door and hurried up the stairs. I didn't want any more mess. I only wanted the truth.

 

TWENTY

‘Tell the story to its end.'

Does he sound bored? I don't think so. But he doesn't sound so alive, right now. Maybe there's a way out of this, if I can think quickly enough, act quickly enough.

‘No,' he's saying. I drag my mind back to him.

‘No, no way out. I was just feeling a little sad, kiddo.'

‘What are you sad about?'

He looks at me with eyes that have seen too much. ‘What have I got to be sad about? That's what you're asking me?'

I stand perfectly still, waiting. As still as night. As still as death. As still as a timeless song.

‘I have seen worlds grow and die, until their ashes don't even float on the wind of the highest mountains. I've loved the legends of men whose names are lost, loved people who aren't even memories. The trees you climb now will be the coal that heats the rooms in a thousand years that house the babies that grow to found the empires that will crumble to dust while I sit and watch. I've seen libraries burn, my boy. I've seen books crackle and split and crack to black earth and shadows. I've waited and slept and ignored more history than you and your islanders will ever know happened. Don't tell me I can't have a moment of thought before the bite.'

I frown. Before the bite?

We stand, just watching each other. Dust dances and circles around in the pale, chalky light of a moon. His wings unfold from his shoulders with a creak. He's strong.

I
PULLED THE
ladder up after me. I'd never done that before, not once since I first climbed up, not once since everything changed. It rolled away flat, well used and smooth, and I pulled the hatch door closed. No easy way down, today. It made the room even gloomier, despite the window and the afternoon sun. Years of dust can hide the light just as well as a curtain. Eren had his head to one side, watching me with a still, fixed grin, his claws folded behind him and resting on those wings. ‘What's wrong, little mop?'

The silence swam around us, thick, old, dusty. Eren rustled his wings, soft as velvet. In the cold, black room I was suddenly less sure, less rushed and angry.

‘Everyone,' I said. His eyes were wider than before. Nothing moved. The noise of the world behind the window hummed. ‘Truth and lies. Dad. And you! The stuff you've been doing. They
all
just—'

‘Yes,' he said. Deep in the blackness something changed about him. He leaned towards me, smiling, showing his pointed teeth, all fur and breath and fire.

‘So,' he said.

‘So.'

‘What's to be done? I've been enjoying things, up till now.'

Downstairs I heard soft bumps. Mum packing.

‘My dad,' I said, but he shushed me.

He picked a spider from his fur. ‘You'll stay,' he said.

‘What?'

‘It's how it goes, little man. You'll stay.'

‘What do you mean, I'll stay?'

‘Eggs is eggs,' he said. ‘Night is black. Pain is bad. Sleep is good. These are truths. Well, you say they are. You'll stay.'

He was spreading his wings out. They shuddered, dry bones cracking, the fur and skin brittle and patchy. I thought of a canvas stretched tight over a tent, stretched till it broke and snapped.

‘Eren,' I said, feeling suddenly sorry for him.

‘Alone?' he said, his wings still stretching, turning up and out.

‘I've got to go,' I said. ‘It's over. I think we're going to leave.'

He chuckled deep and low in his throat.

‘Pay attention now,' he said. ‘Mind your manners, mind your step, mind your language!' With one thin finger he reached out to touch my forehead.

I shook my head. ‘No game,' I said.

‘No?' he said. He nodded, his hand frozen an inch from my face. ‘No more games. Yes. And your mama?'

‘What about her?'

‘Running off again? Running with her, are you? Going to hide from the world? Little rabbit!'

‘You shut up,' I said, staring at him. My throat was tight. I was angry again. He grinned like a devil, moved away again, and I snapped.

‘
Shut up!
You just sit here in your loft and act all wise and clever, but what do you know about me? You can laugh and giggle all you want and get in my head and dance away in my dreams, but you're just nothing. You're just a shadow of a dead world! That's what!'

‘And what kind of world you got here, boy?'

‘This is mine!' I shouted, pointing to the window. My voice was a roar. I was screaming at him. ‘
Real
things! All the stuff you don't have. You're just—'

‘You can run away, can you? Back to a mum who keeps you blind from the truth. Your dad's gone, boy, he's gone and finished. Going to play with your friends? Good little child! You can tell stories in the mud and make your little apple pies and pretend you're not
terrified
of everything. You child!'

‘You're a monster! You're the child!'

‘Bah!' he snorted. ‘Look in your heart. Look in my eyes. Let's see what it is you really feel. Tell me this. Do you really never want to dream with me again?'

I stopped, stumbled, tried to shake my head clear. ‘What can I do?' I asked. ‘Everything's wrong.'

‘Fix it,' he said.

‘How?'

‘Give in. Be what you can be, boy! Admit the way things are.' He was moving towards me again. ‘Let me,' he said. Let me see the whole tale, the whole, amazing thing. Give it to me.'

We stared at each other as the world turned outside the window.

‘If I choose you,' I said, ‘if I say I'll stay with you…'

‘Yes?'

‘What's it mean?'

‘It means forgetting, Oliver Munroe. It means forgetting your pains and your nicks and your nacks and all that. It means not
being
forgotten, ever, by me, or … those 'uns downstairs. It means get-backs and little revenges on all the boring never-listens who spoke and spoke and never … ever' – he let his breath fall out, hot and dry – ‘
listened
. To your tale. Your story. To the story of you! And it's a good one, too. A good, good story. And believe me, child, from the likes of me, that is a
compliment
. I glory in the history of legends and nightmares, boy. I ride the dust of words spoken throughout all that ever was. That's what I am, and that's what it means! Being above death and above right and above wrong and above time and … beyond those things. Stories are
life
and it's stories what I know.'

I looked into his face, saw his eyes, saw the stars behind them and thought about Dad, about Mum and Jasper and Takeru and Full Lot Jack and sleeping cats and falling stars. ‘Be more than human,' he said. ‘Be more!'

‘Dad—' I said, but he cut me off.

‘Liars,' he said, ‘and bad 'uns.
Protecting
you. As if you were weak.
Hiding
things from you, as if you were stupid! You see, don't you? You see?'

I bit my lip. My hands were shaking.

‘The cat,' I said.

‘Hm? What's that? Speak up, little mouse.'

‘The cat,' I said. ‘You made it. It was a story and then it was real. You have power. I felt it. You control things. You
live
stories. Couldn't you … couldn't you change things? Bring
him
here. Make things better. Make things right.'

Tears stung my eyes. My voice was trembling, getting louder. I wanted to beg, wanted to make him understand, make him agree.

‘Your dad,' he said. ‘Your Papa. Huh. Well, now. Well, well, well. Who needs Eren now? Who needs silly old scary old Eren?' He paused, chewed his lip. ‘Why,
you
do, don't you, Oli? You need Eren. You need me. You need the only one who never lies, never fibs, never gets distracted or
busy
.'

‘I always listened to you, Oli,' he said. ‘Isn't that right? I
always
listened to what you said. Your words are magic to me. And I could help your Daddah, couldn't I? You could be with me, and everything could be just like it was.'

‘You could? He'd be here? With Mum?'

His laugh sounded like a growl. ‘How much
faith
are you willing to show?' he said. ‘Let's take a leap, eh? Let's take a jump! In the end, little pet, I'm the only one who cares completely.'

I looked at him, at his eyes the colour of candle flame. I clenched my fists, wiped my face. Suddenly, silently, in my mind, in my heart, something clicked. I nodded. He was
right
.'

He'd always listened hadn't he? Always watched. Always paid attention. He'd always cared and never lied. To stay with him and dance in the stars, to see the red-hot sun of years ago …

He looked at me and smiled, sharp teeth and a pink tongue.

‘Give up,' he said, and he raised one claw. ‘This is your chance for adventure! Think of the wonders and the magic I showed you.' He was leaning forward. His feet clicked on the floor.

I raised my hand and reached out.

 

TWENTY-ONE

I know Mum looked for me. I know she looked in the loft, searched around, peered through the dust, but I was already gone. I'd already left. I'm part of Eren's world now. She'd never have found me. Nothing but shadows, here. Nothing but silence. He probably grinned at her, hidden in the corner, old and mad. There was nothing to see. Mum closed the door and left.

I think that was the moment, really, when Eren knew he'd won.

Every time I tell this, I know I'm getting weaker. Eren doesn't care, of course. It's all the same to him.

‘And so I heard your story,' he says. I nod, numbly, trying to remember how all this felt, but I know that I can't. I don't know where we are. Maybe it's not a real place. Maybe it's a myth-place. I'm trapped here.

‘It's a good one, mind,' says Eren. ‘Tales within tales! I'm full, me. I'm stuffed!'

He wafts a hand towards me. ‘Once more, eh? Just one more time.'

‘It makes you stronger. Bigger,' I say.