The Book of Beasts (18 page)

‘To roast a pig is a long process,' Solon said, still looking around. ‘It's early in the day still. This is all very mystifying.'

Suddenly Matt doubled over in pain when a tall robed figure appeared out of the shadows of the animal pen.

‘Then allow me to explain,' it drawled.

Auchinmurn Isle
Present Day

Em knew she was being followed the moment she stepped off the garden path and turned into the rows of raspberry bushes that bordered Jeannie's kitchen garden. The night was clear and the moon bright but, like most evenings in this part of Scotland, it was chilly and damp and every plant in the garden was heavy with moisture. At first Em thought she was feeling the heaviness of the humidity on her skin, but after a few more steps beyond the garden she was convinced she felt a presence nearby.

She'd sneaked out of bed as soon as the Abbey had quietened, her body none the worse for the animated arrow wounds. Having listened outside Zach's door until she no longer heard movement, she had then sneaked down the back stairs and out through a door she'd drawn and animated at the back of the pantry.

Two more steps and she felt it again. Closer this time. A prickling on her skin, and a twinge in her mind. She quickened her pace through the bushes and cut back in towards the garden, ignoring the occasional scratch from the branches. She pulled up the hood of Matt's sweatshirt, which she'd been wearing for days, smelling him in the fabric. She'd refused to let her mum wash it.

Were those footsteps?

Em glanced round. Jeannie's garden was bordered with fruit trees in full bloom, but in the quarter-acre of tilled space, other than the prickly berry bushes behind which she now crouched, there were not many places to hide – even in the dark.

Whatever it was, was moving closer. She had to find a hiding place, and fast. Quickly pulling her sketchpad from her pocket, she sat cross-legged in the darkness and began to draw.

A trellis sprouted from the ground, complete with thick vines and roses growing through the latticework. Each rose had a tiny twinkle of light at its centre that looked ethereal, magical. The heavy scent of roses fought for Em's attention with Jeannie's lavender and sweet basil as she ducked behind the verdant tangle.

She heard the telltale click of the garden gate and shivered, clutching tightly to the only item approaching a weapon that she had, preparing herself for something horrible to emerge from the shadows up ahead.

Wisps of clouds floated past the moon. A gull screeched over the bay.

A hand grabbed Em's shoulder.

Em pivoted and charged, knocking Zach flying into a patch of rhubarb.

Get off me, Em!

Em's heart was hammering so hard she could barely hear herself think, let alone Zach as well.
Jeez, I could have really hurt you, you idiot! What are you doing sneaking around in the dark?

Oh, funny you should ask.
Zach stood up, pulling leaves from his hair.
And you couldn't have hurt me with your sketchpad.

Em brandished a pair of pinking shears and glared.
I could have done some serious damage with these, though.

Zach glared back, his thoughts flying fast and angry into Em's head.
What are you doing out here? You know we shouldn't leave the Abbey after dark.

I was taking a walk.

With pinking shears and a sketchpad?

Zach put his hands on Em's shoulders. She felt the full force of his determination.
The truth this time. You've obviously been taking this little walk for the last few nights.

How do you know?

Too much muck on your wellies and it's only been wet at night.

Em pulled away from him sulkily.
You think you're so smart, Sherlock!

Picking up her sketchpad from under the rhubarb where it had landed, she waved Zach forward, resigned.

If I show you something, it has to be our secret.

Don't you think your family has enough secrets to last a lifetime?

‘Funny,' Em signed, punctuating her response with an extra gesture
. I mean it, Zach: I need your word.

Fine. In the meantime, what happens to that?

He nodded at the animated trellis.

Ripping out the page, Em shredded her drawing. The trellis blazed brightly for a few seconds, then, as if someone were snuffing out candles, each twinkling bloom puffed out one at a time. Finally, the trellis sank into the ground and disappeared.

Keeping to the shadows, Em led Zach towards Jeannie's potting shed.

Two silhouettes standing at Sandie's sitting-room window watched the light of Em's trellis animation fade to nothingness.

‘What's she up to?' Vaughn asked.

‘I wish I knew,' Sandie said, watching. ‘Simon and Renard have taught her well. She's keeping a lot locked in her mind at the moment.'

Outside the window an owl hooted. Sandie saw it glide out of a nearby pine tree, swoop to the ground and then rise into the night sky with a wriggling rabbit gripped in its claws. She felt like that rabbit: battered, torn and heading towards the end. Turning away, she took Vaughn's hand and led him from the room.

Out in the darkness, a thin line of light glowed round the potting-shed door.

As they stopped at the door to the potting shed, Zach looked at Em.

‘
If I know you've been sneaking out, your mum probably does too,' he signed.

‘She's afraid I'll snap under the strain.' Em lowered her hands. Telepathy was easier in the darkness.
But I won't. I'm stronger than that.

She pulled the key for the shed from her pocket and unlocked the door. Before she opened it enough for them to slip inside, she put her hand on Zach's chest.

I need you to swear on your powers as a Guardian that this will be our secret. Otherwise there's no way you're seeing what's in here.

With her purple-streaked hair, her pale skin and her fierce determination, in that moment Em looked years older than thirteen. Zach nodded.

I swear.

Inside, the shed smelled of manure, motor oil and cut grass. The ride-on mower was parked to one side, and behind it stood a wall of rickety wooden shelves loaded with clay flowerpots, bags of seeds and a sundry assortment of gardening tools. A pitchfork, spade and two rakes stood in the corner.

On the other side of the shed was a worn armchair and a stack of books. A small window covered in dirt and cobwebs was in the middle of the back wall, the hazy moon visible above the silhouette of Era Mina.

You're in here secretly reading?

Zach was about to walk further into the shed when Em grabbed his arm.

Stop! There are things I need to switch off.

Zach watched as Em followed the extension cord plugged in behind a large clay pot and running along behind sacks of mulch, leading up to a projector and Em's iPad on a shelf.

You're throwing a hologram against the wall?
Zach glanced around, clearly trying to work out which items in the shed weren't real.
Why not just animate something?

Em rolled her eyes.
Because everyone in the Abbey who might follow me would recognize an animation immediately.

Lifting down the iPad, she closed the program. One by one, the comfy chair, the stack of books and then the entire back wall of the shed shimmered and pixelated. Each image faded to black, leaving a makeshift green screen standing between them and the real back half of the shed.

Carefully, Em pulled down the screen. Zach laughed in amazement.

Bunches of herbs, turnips and leafy plants hung from a clothesline strung across the back of the hut, each bunch in varying degrees of dehydration, along with the dried-out carcass of a squirrel. Apart from a blue plastic tarpaulin covering a canvas the size of a flat-screen TV that was leaning against the wall, all the tableau needed was a blazing hearth, a pot of porridge and a skinned rabbit or two hanging from the rafters to complete the picture of an old crofter's cottage in the eighteenth century.

Zach looked up at the squirrel and recoiled. ‘Gross!'

‘I didn't kill it, in case you're wondering,' Em signed back. ‘It was road kill.'

‘Oh, good. That makes me feel much better!'

‘It's not as bad as it looks.' Em gazed around, thinking about this from Zach's perspective. ‘OK. It looks bad.'

Jeannie's pestle and mortar and Simon's missing clay bowls were spread on a table next to the blue-tarped canvas, along with what looked like a chunk of the Auchinmurn hillside. Zach poked his finger in a plastic bag caked inside with a dark sticky substance, and rubbed his fingertips together.

Is this blood?

Em nodded, holding up the palm of her left hand with a plaster on it.
I mixed the squirrel's blood with some of my own.

Zach pulled a face.
Jeez, Em. What are you doing in here?

Em could feel his concern heavy on her shoulders. With great care, she pulled the tarp from the canvas underneath.

It was the missing medieval triptych from the Abbey.

Em had painted over the picture of Daniel in the lion's den that had been there before. Now the whole painting leaped from the canvas at multiple points the way a 3D film might, an intense heat pulsing from each of the three panels.

The central panel showed a number of strange, skeletal-looking knights surrounding Era Mina's finished pencil tower, wearing armour embossed with wings on their shoulder plates and silver helixes on their breastplates. Each had only half a face. A tall, leader-like figure stood among them, his head tilted back, his long hair painted in broad, expressionist strokes like Cezanne or Monet might have used. A rough-hewn slobbering mud creature dominated the background.

The panel on the right showed a cave opening in the cliff, which Em had rendered in a maelstrom of greys, yellows and blacks. The cave mouth seemed to be pursing, as if in a kiss. The left panel was unfinished.

‘I think the tall one in the middle panel's my dad,' Em said. She could hardly bring herself to look at the image, even now.

‘It's stunning, Em,' Zach signed. ‘The best thing you've ever painted.'

‘You think?'

‘But what is it? Why have you painted it?'

‘I have an idea and it has to do with Albion.'

Zach frowned. ‘What are you talking about?'

Auchinmurn Isle
The Middle Ages

Solon drew his sword. Matt scrambled up from the table, knocking over his chair and food as Malcolm Calder walked into the light.

He swept his cloak behind his shoulders, revealing the beauty of his polished armour – the silver helix appeared to pulse with the rhythm of his heart, the leather sheath hooked to his wide belt protecting the bone quill. He slipped the hood from his head, revealing the full horror of his deformed mouth, his unfinished lips and the shadowy, viscous holes where teeth should have been. When he spoke, his tongue flicked into those cavities, sending clouds of black powder into the air.