The Changeling (17 page)

‘He’ll soon be back to himself,’ said the younger boy, squatting down beside her. ‘That stuff is powerful. Made it from berries of hawthorn. I do have special skills that way.’

‘Shay, wake up! Shay, we’ve been rescued.’ A terrible sob was pushing its way out of Aoife’s chest into her throat. ‘Wake up – oh please, wake up . . .’ Why hadn’t she said it while she had a chance?
I love you too.

‘Give him more, Ultan – a bird never flew on one wing.’

‘I don’t think it’s going to do the trick, Donal.’

‘It will, it’s my
power.
You just haven’t given him enough! Here . . .’ The child grabbed the flask and tipped all the rest of it into Shay’s mouth.

‘Aah . . . Christ, what the . . .’ Shay’s eyes flew open and he rolled over onto his front, shuddering, coughing up foaming red liquid from the depths of his guts. His Mayo shirt was torn across the back, and his skin was violently bruised and scraped. ‘Holy Mother of . . .’ He struggled to sit up and nearly fell backwards.

Aoife caught him, cradling him, supporting him. She was sobbing with happiness. ‘Oh my God, you’re alive . . .’

His head lolled against her shoulder. ‘Is that you?’

‘Can’t you see me?’

‘Everything’s purple . . .’

‘
CAT! CAT!
’

A tall, broad-shouldered, big-boned teenage girl with a bright red waist-length plait came leaping – flying, almost – over the high brambles and giant ferns that clustered around the entrance and landed, knees bent, in the centre of the cave. ‘Come quick, I seen it asleep in the sun!’ A year or two older than Aoife, she was wearing flared maroon cords with embroidered patches, a flowered blouse and strings of coloured beads swinging from her neck. She stared at Aoife – ‘Where’d she come from?’ – and then at Shay, slumped in Aoife’s arms. ‘What’s the matter with your man?’

Donal boasted, ‘I gave him my juice!’

‘You did what? No wonder he’s looks rough. Come on, Ultan, we can creep up on the cat while it’s sleeping.’

Ultan said to the child, ‘You stay here.’

‘Hey, no, I want to come! Caitlin?’

‘Course you can. Don’t humanize the kid, Ultan, he’ll be grand. Hurry!’ The girl leaped high over the brambles again, out of the cave.

‘Donie, I’m telling you, stay here. Ye’ve got no powers.’ But as the plump teenager forced his way through the thorns in Caitlin’s wake, the small boy, with a wink at Aoife and a finger to his lips, sneaked after him.

Aoife cried hastily, ‘Hey, no – come back, tell us where . . .’ And then the child was gone.

Left alone in the cave, she bent her head over Shay. ‘Can you see me yet?’

His green-gold gaze drifted up towards her, and seemed to find her face. He said dreamily, ‘
Wahu
 . . .’ and his eyes moved away again, slowly taking in the cave, the ferns, the trickling water, the dragonflies. He sat up suddenly. ‘What the . . .? I thought we were dead and a million miles underground!’

‘I know! But then these two lads turned up and dug us out and we were alive and here!’

‘
How?
’

‘I don’t know! It’s incredible! Maybe we made it all the way under the cliff and came out in the valley on the other side . . .’

Shay twisted to stare at her. ‘That must be it. What an escape. I can’t believe you’re alive.’

‘Me neither, about you.’

He said nothing for long moment, facing Aoife with his ankles crossed and his arms wrapped around his knees, his eyes moving slowly across her face, as if he were still uncertain she was real.

Maybe she should say it now.
I love you too.
But then, back in the cave with the roof crashing down on them, he had been sure they were about to die. And people might say a lot of things they don’t really mean, in that sort of situation.

He broke eye contact, and glanced towards the cave mouth. ‘Where did the lads go?’

‘They ran off when this girl came in saying she’d found their cat.’

‘They must live nearby. I wonder do I know them?’

‘You might. I think I kind of knew the older one myself, I just can’t think where from . . .’

‘Come on, we’ll track them down and get a lend of one of their phones to call John Joe. Tell him there’s been a miracle.’ Shay stood up unsteadily. ‘Ah Jesus, the state of me, I’m in bits . . .’ Aoife offered her arm, but he waved it away. ‘You’re grand. Go on, I’ll follow.’

The high brambles blocking the entrance were covered with blackberries as huge as grapes. Aoife grabbed a handful as she pushed her way through, cramming them into her mouth. They were so delicious, they brought tears to her eyes. ‘Shay, you have to try some of these.’ The birdsong became even louder as she pushed her way into the sunlit world – and caught her breath in disbelief.

She had been expecting to see the lilac bog land of north Mayo. Instead, she was standing on a white marble ledge gazing out over a vast pink and white blossoming forest of fruit trees, stretching for mile after mile unbroken to the horizon. Hundreds of rainbows arched above it across a turquoise sky, and around the horizon pure white mountains shone. A sparkling rose-quartz cliff sloped upwards behind her, its pointed summit disappearing into the blue; vines tumbled down its crystal walls, and from every crevice of the rock face thrust yet more blossoming fruit trees, haloed in pale blue clouds of butterflies.

Shay had pushed his way out of the brambles and had come to stand beside her. Aoife turned to him, wide-eyed, speechless. A strange joy was rising in her heart, like a warm tide. Was this the world of the Tuatha Dé Danann, the Land of the Young?

He, on the other hand, seemed a little sad. He said, a catch in his throat, ‘So we did die, after all.’

‘Oh . . .’ The tide of her joy ebbed. ‘Do you really think?’

‘A cliff falls on our heads and we wake up in paradise. What else could explain it, apart from our being dead?’

‘I don’t know . . . I just feel so alive . . .’ Really hungry, for instance, even after eating the blackberries. ‘You think we’re in heaven?’

Shay turned to her, studied her face, then slightly smiled. ‘Well, I know I am, anyway. I’m not sure about you.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘Maybe you’re not dead. Maybe in the real world, wherever it is, you’re walking around, still alive.’

‘But I’m here, with you!’

‘Of course you are. My heaven wouldn’t be perfect without you. And if this is
my
heaven . . .’ Shay seemed suddenly very happy, though in a slightly wild way; the depths of his green eyes glinted gold, like the sunlit floor of streams. He took her hands, and his flesh was warm; he pulled her gently towards him, then transferred his grip so he was holding both her hands in one of his. He used his other hand to tilt up her chin. ‘If this is my own perfect heaven, made especially for me . . .’

His mouth came close to hers.

Aoife held her breath. Vaguely she was aware that the birds had stopped singing, as though everything in Shay’s heaven was waiting to see what was going to happen next—

A high-pitched, unearthly howling replaced the silence of the birds, and three voices were screaming and shouting at once.

‘
CLOUD IT AGAIN!
’

‘
I’m trying!
’

‘
AGAIN!
’

‘
It’s getting away!
’

‘
I CAN’T HOLD IT!
’

‘
Move, move, move!!!
’

With a high scream, Donal came bolting out of the fringe of the woods, scrambled up to the ledge and shot straight past them into the cave – his cheek was badly slashed. Ultan and the big bright-haired girl came streaming after him, dragging a large net between them.

‘Get in!’ the girl yelled at Aoife and Shay. ‘Cat’s coming! Get in! Are ye fools or what?
Get in!
’

Once inside, Caitlin and Ultan hastily tied the net over the mouth of the cave, securing it to several thick tree roots that had forced their way in through cracks and crevices. Then they flattened themselves against the walls on either side of the entrance, watching the net like spiders watching their web. Shay pulled Aoife beside him against the damp marble wall; he said in her ear, ‘Are these the guys that rescued us?’

‘That boy there was one of them – I wonder what happened to the little one?’ Donal seemed to have disappeared entirely – but then Aoife saw the top of his head bobbing about at floor level near the back of the cave; he had hidden himself in the hole left by the collapsed tunnel. ‘And that cute little kid back there with the bright red hair.’

‘What are they playing at, running from a cat?’

‘I’ve no idea . . .’

Ultan reached out and tested the net with his hand. ‘Caitlin, do you think maybe you should just blast it, soon as it appears?’

‘Danu, no. Don’t want to kill it. Just cloud it. Ye’ll be able to give it a good dose when it’s stuck in the net.’

‘Just, it got a taste of Donal’s blood—’

‘
Here it comes!
’

A split second later, a huge white cat came leaping over the wall of brambles like a demon out of hell and crashed straight into the net.

Caitlin screamed: ‘Cloud it! Cloud it!’

The creature was a domestic white cat – yet it was monstrous, nearly two metres long from nose to tail. It was struggling to free itself, rolling around in the net, screeching like a tortured soul, clawing at the strands, lashing with its tail. Aoife was sick with horror – she felt Shay pass his arm around her, holding her against him.

Caitlin shrieked, ‘Ultan, it’s getting free!’

‘I’ve got it!’ Thick black smoke was pouring from Ultan’s hands and the beast was writhing, frothing at the mouth, eyes rolling, choking, clearly weakening, drowning in the fog . . . With a last furious effort, it tore the net apart with its teeth, broke free and headed straight for the back of the cave.

Ultan shrieked, ‘
Look out, Donal!
’

Donal’s bright head popped up over the edge of the hole to see what was going on – and that was a terrible mistake. The cat seized his whole head like a ball of red wool, stuffing it into its mouth, wrapping its giant paws around his waist, sinking its teeth into his neck.

With an inarticulate but warlike yell, Shay launched himself from Aoife’s side towards the monster, throwing himself full-length on the beast’s back. The cat instantly bucked him off against the cave wall. At the same moment a hydrant of blue fire burst across the cave – it came from Caitlin’s raised right hand and hit the cat square at the base of its spine, setting its tail on fire; the creature yowled and rose up on its hind legs, whipping Donal’s body even harder from side to side – there was a sharp crack, and the child’s muffled screams from inside the monster’s mouth abruptly ceased.

Aoife still could not move. A terrible energy was rising through her and yet at the same time paralysing her, as if her body were being drained of blood and slowly refilled with freezing acid; with a great effort, she managed to raise one hand towards the dreadful sight of Donal, limp and broken-necked, being dragged around like a dead mouse . . .

The cat, now seriously on fire, dropped the boy and crashed over onto its back, writhing and mewing in agony. The others threw themselves upon it, Ultan wrapping the net around its paws and head, Shay jabbing with his key-ring penknife at the creature’s ribcage – buttercup-yellow blood bursting from every hole he made. Caitlin was shouting at Shay, ‘Stop, ya fool! We have to bring it back alive!’

At last the cat lay trussed too tight to struggle free, bleeding from its wounds, fur smouldering, hissing faintly in its throat.

Donal’s small body was curled up in the corner of the cave.

Before Aoife could get to him, Shay had already gathered him up, holding him against his chest like he had held the lamb on the cliff, touching the child’s closed eyes, his wounded neck, his limp white hands. ‘Come back . . . Come back . . .’

Ultan said, hanging over him, ‘Donie, Donie, come on – you’re in paradise, you can’t die on us now, man!’

The leather flask was still lying among the stones, where Shay had knocked it from Donal’s hands. Aoife pounced on it and shook it desperately into Donal’s mouth. No red liquid dripped out.

Ultan groaned hoarsely, ‘He used the last of it on you two, man. Generous to the last.’

Caitlin, standing further back with her arms by her sides, said grimly, ‘Sure, it was only juice. He never had any real powers. Not old enough. Came home too soon.’ Blue fire was still draining from her hands in fits and starts like they were gas rings on a cooker not completely turned off.

‘He can’t be dead!’ Aoife was trying desperately not to cry. ‘He can’t be, he’s too young—’

‘Wait,’ said Shay. ‘Wait.’ He pushed back Donal’s bright red hair, lowered his head to drop a light kiss on the child’s bared forehead.

The child stirred; eyelashes fluttered open; he smiled, his pale skin flushed, freckles darkened, his hair seemed to turn an even deeper red, eyes not pale blue but brilliant sapphire; he looked up at Shay and said in a voice as high and clear as a bell, ‘Did you ever meet my mam and da? They’re called Padraig and Mary McGoldrick.’ And then his face slumped against Shay’s shoulder, and he was gone.

CHAPTER THREE

They chose a final resting place for the child beneath a large spreading apple tree on the edge of the forest, and lined his grave with dandelions and kingcups, meadowsweet and wild violets. The warm breeze through the apple leaves shook down fruit and blossom into the freshly dug earth.

Aoife found it unbelievable, shocking, desperate, that her first act in heaven was to dig a grave, and for such a little boy. What manner of paradise was this?

And the guilt . . . Her heart was breaking with it. She was the only one who had done nothing to try to save him. Miserably, she pulled up armfuls of wild bluebells and threw them down into the hole. Ultan was sitting on the grass by Donal’s body, his head buried in his arms. Shay was using his key-ring penknife to strip the bark from two willow wands. The girl was standing at the edge of the grave with her arms crossed over her flowery blouse and strings of wooden beads.