The Changeling (28 page)

Caitlin seemed to know the place well – she stopped a little girl in a flounced white communion dress. ‘Anything interesting on the menu today, Katie?’

The child consulted the piece of slate in her hand, written on with chalk. ‘Tinned frankfurters, Laughing Cow cheese, Tayto crisps.’

‘Cheese and onion?’

‘Course. A packet of Kimberleys but they’re a bit stale. Wedding cake. Fanta. Barry’s tea.’

Ultan breathed, ‘Excellent.’

‘We’ll have the wedding cake, Laughing Cow cheese, a few cans of Fanta and some Taytos. And a pot of Barry’s for Fat Boy there. And bring us some light into that corner.’ Caitlin marched off towards the back of the bar, where there was a collection of sturdy sugán stools.

As they followed her, Ultan murmured to Aoife, ‘These guys are dangerous, but the food here is great.’

‘What on earth is this place all about?’

‘Some of the older changelings like to get their hands on human food. I don’t know how they manage it, but they source some really nice stuff. They claim they get it off new changelings who happen to have it on them when they’re called down. But everyone knows one or two of them are sneaking it in from above.’

‘They know a way to the surface world?’

Shay looked round sharply. ‘Is that true?’

Ultan whispered, ‘Ssh, keep your voice down – you’ll get us thrown out.’

As she took her seat, Aoife turned to study the drinkers at the bar. They were soberly dressed, most wearing suits and ties, and all keeping themselves to themselves. One of them had a small plastic bottle of Coca-Cola in front of him, from which he was sipping very slowly.

Caitlin slapped her arm. ‘Don’t be staring at them! They don’t like it!’

‘But if they know the way—’ Aoife met Shay’s eyes.

‘Danu’s sake, let’s at least get some food into us before the two of ye start asking stupid questions and we all get our throats cut.’

‘
What?
’

‘I’m telling you, these are serious hard guys. You got to be a lunatic to risk getting your name called by a dullahan just for a bag of Taytos – even if you can get good money for it.’

The child came over with a lighted candle, which she jammed into a crevice in the wall beside them, and then with two tin bowls which she set on a fifth stool. The Laughing Cow cheese came in individually wrapped triangles; the wedding cake was roughly cut, and one of the figures that had topped it – the bride – was still stuck into the icing of one slice, though her head was missing. Caitlin unwrapped a cheese triangle with ill-concealed relish. ‘God knows why anyone would still want to eat this human crap.’

‘I’m in heaven – cheese-and-onion Taytos!’ Ultan ripped open a packet with his teeth and began cramming them into his mouth. ‘Where’s my tea?’

‘Coming.’ The child ran off again.

Eva sat on Aoife’s knee looking around. ‘Is this home?’

‘No, honey – later. Do you want some cake?’

‘Crisps and Coke.’

‘Is it possible to get her some Coke?’

‘No, it’d cost every coin we have, and I wish you’d stop lugging that stupid kid around with us,’ Caitlin said irritably. ‘You’re like a banshee with her. People are looking.’

‘No one’s looking.’ It was true – every single patron of the bar had their backs firmly turned.

Except for one small man, who had just come down the stairs and was staring straight at them across the shadowy room. Aoife became horribly aware of the wealth of stolen enamelled money and red passes at the bottom of Caitlin’s kitbag. ‘Crap.’

Shay, a slice of wedding cake in his hand, followed her eyes. ‘What’s the—? Oh, I see.’

The zookeeper was coming towards them, almost bowing – his usual peculiar mixture of servility and authority. ‘Come along now, lads and lassies.’ The drinkers and eaters at the bar didn’t look behind them or move a muscle.

Caitlin stood up, face flushed. ‘You owed us them passes and money, Seán Burke – those cooshees are worth a fortune and you know it.’

‘Quite right, quite right. Come on now, yer carriage awaits. The Beloved wants a word.’

Ultan nearly choked on his crisps. ‘
The Beloved?
’

‘Lovely man, lovely man . . . Gave me my first job here, insisted I was the man for it, even though I warned him about my heart . . .’

Caitlin said in a trembling voice, ‘Is it this stupid sheóg here that’s got us in trouble? You can take her and good luck.’

Also standing up, Aoife snapped, ‘No, you can’t!’

‘Leave her or bring her, whichever ye decide, girlies. ’Tisn’t the sheóg the Beloved is after. And no one’s in any trouble. All he wants is to get a good look at ye all, ’cos ye’re all so lovely. Come along, stand up there, lads.’

‘Oh God . . .’ Ultan was cramming the rest of the crisps into his mouth as fast as he could, cheeks bulging. ‘At least let me eat another bag . . .’

‘Take it easy, lad, there’ll be plenty more meals for all of ye. ’Tis just an invitation to a pleasant chat, not a walk down death row.’

Taking a slow, unhurried bite of his cake, Shay said, ‘Supposing we don’t want to be going anywhere?’

‘Ain’t no one here going to help you, my lad, if force turns out to be necessary. But why would it be? Sure, there’s nothing wrong here at all. Now get up and follow me.’

And still the men at the bar sat with their backs turned.

The coach blocking the narrow lane at the top of the steps reminded Aoife of the horse-drawn vehicles travellers used for funerals in Clonbarra – high-wheeled, polished black. It sat in silence, the door open. The coachman was hunched on the box, the hood of his cloak pulled up, a long white whip in his hand. A lantern hung from a hook beside him, burning with a rotten scent. Four small black horses were harnessed to the vehicle; they stamped and tossed their heads.

‘Climb up, take a seat!’ The zookeeper gleefully ushered them up the steps of the coach. The interior was empty. Two hard benches faced each other across a narrow aisle. There were no windows apart from a small rectangular shutter behind the rear seat, which was bolted. A whip cracked up front, the carriage jerked, jangled; the high wheels creaked and began to roll away. Seán Burke ran alongside them for a few paces, holding open the door. ‘Say hello to the Beloved from me, and if he has any other kind of a job going – something in an office, say . . .’ He slammed the door on them, plunging them into darkness. Aoife kneeled up on the back seat, fumbling for the shutter and jerking it open; the coach was already thundering along very fast, careering wildly round torch-lit corners.

Caitlin threw herself down on the opposite bench, a furious expression on her freckled face. ‘I don’t know what this is about but it’s definitely nothing to do with me. I didn’t steal anything.’

Ultan crouched down holding his hand out to Eva, who was sitting cross-legged on the floor with her back to the bench, eating Taytos. ‘Come on, just one.’

‘No.’

‘Poor Ultan’s tiny tum is hollow with the hunger—’

‘
No!
’

Shay joined Aoife on the back seat, also kneeling to look out, his head close beside hers. He said under his breath, ‘I’d say if all this buck wants with us is a chat, we should sit quiet and let him do all the talking.’

She smiled – it was so like Shay Foley to advise silence as a strategy. ‘But if we want to find the way home, maybe he’s the best one to ask.’

‘I’m serious, Aoife. I don’t think we should let him know what’s in our minds. I don’t like being dragged off to see him like this, whether we want to or not.’

‘Me neither, but I suppose it’s not as if he’s the devil. The people of Danu left him in charge of the queen’s daughter, so he can’t be a monster. He was the queen’s Beloved.’

‘Then what does he want with us? We’re nothing to him.’

‘Maybe he likes to welcome new arrivals. Or maybe he wants to know how we captured all those cooshees. The zookeeper said he’d only ever seen a dead one before.’

Shay fell silent, staring out of the small window, his cheek so close to Aoife’s that she could feel the heat of his skin. They were rattling along more crowded streets now, the driver making very little attempt to avoid what was in his path. Changelings who had just leaped out of their way remained frozen in position as the coach crashed by – mouths open, arms wide. A stall shuddered and nearly keeled over, ripe plums smashing on the cobbles. Clouds of pink chaffinches rose twittering.

Caitlin suddenly unfolded her arms and slapped Ultan across the head. ‘This is
your
fault, ya thick eejit!’

‘Ow! No it’s not! How is it?’

‘You went mouthing off about my book!’

‘
Your
book?’

‘And that aul slobberer of a zookeeper must have heard you and told the Beloved!’

‘Ow! Give over hitting me! You shouldn’t have stolen it in the first place!’

‘How else would we have managed out there? It saved our lives a ton of times!’

‘Caitlin, you can’t even read it—’

‘
I can so!
You’re just jealous. And now I’m going to have to dump it before they search my kit.’ She stood up and pushed in between Aoife and Shay, the leather volume in her hand, readying herself to toss it from the moving coach; then sank back onto her seat again, mournfully turning pages. ‘But it’s been so
useful
.’

The coach thundered on between thick marble columns. Heavy bronze gates swung shut, and a long dark tunnel began to unfurl behind them, echoing violently with the sound of their passing. The walls curved away into dimness as the coach travelled upwards in increasingly steep circles, leaning more and more to the left. As it swung round the tightest curve yet, Shay slid heavily against Aoife. ‘Ah – sorry.’

She laughed. ‘It’s OK.’

But he grabbed the back of the seat and jerked himself away from her, looking pale, as if what had happened were far from OK – as if the very feel of her against him was a violation of his space. Not looking at Aoife, he said loudly to Caitlin, ‘So, this Beloved guy – what’s he like?’

The girl said grumpily, ‘How would I know?’

‘Doesn’t he run this show?’

‘Yeah, but I never, like,
met
him.’

Ultan asked pointedly, ‘Then why don’t you read us all about him out of your precious book?’

Scarlet-faced, Caitlin stood up again, and this time didn’t hesitate but hurled the book out of the back window. It bounced several times along the stone road, pages flying open, and ended up face down. ‘There! Happy now?’

Ultan said, ‘Oh, absolutely. No one coming this way will notice that lying there in full view.’

‘Who cares if they do? We’ll be miles away by—’

The carriage screeched to a halt, horses whinnying loudly; they all went flying.

After a long moment, all four of them got back to their feet and peered out of the narrow window. The stolen book was still guiltily visible under the archway through which they had just passed. Speechless, they turned and stared at the windowless door. No one opened it. Then came the sound of leather and metal tack being unhitched; horses’ hooves clopped evenly away, fading into the distance.

Looking up from her crisps, Eva said calmly, ‘Are we home yet?’

‘Not yet, honey.’

‘I want my—’

‘Oh, for . . . I’m sick of all this messing!’ Caitlin rattled the door handle furiously. ‘Locked! Will I just burn our way out?’

Ultan said sourly, ‘Sure, set this tiny enclosed space on fire with us in it.’

‘Will I?’

‘
No!
’

‘Hang on.’ Aoife pressed her palm to the bronze latch. The door opened wide, and the sweet scent of fresh hay flooded in. (Caitlin complained loudly behind her, ‘Why didn’t she do that before, the fool?’) She jumped down to the stone straw-covered floor. The shafts of the coach were empty, the points resting on the ground. A single torch, set in a conical bronze bracket, showed red leather reins hanging from a hook and a heap of hay in one corner. They were in a stable – a long one, with a low arched ceiling. Tens of wooden stalls stretched away into the dark; the tall figure of the coachman was leading the four horses into the darkness, his hood pulled up over his head, the orange lantern dangling from his hand. ‘Hey!’ Aoife called after him, running forward a few paces. ‘Wait! Where are we? Stop!’

The coachman stopped and turned. Under his black hood, where his head should have been, a cloud of flies hummed busily around the raw stump of his neck. The lantern in his hand was not a lantern after all, but his own decomposing head.

For a long shocked moment Aoife could not move.

The dullahan took a single pace towards her, and the rotting orange head opened its mouth – a long pale tongue protruded, and a mouthful of maggots spilled onto the stable floor.

Aoife slowly lifted her hand. Her arm was shaking. No power in her fingers.

A low voice very close to her said quietly, ‘Go.’

The headless coachman turned on his heel and continued on into the darkness, the four horses clopping softly after him.

It took her a moment to find the speaker in the dim light – but then she realized that he was only a few metres away, leaning casually against the side of the nearest stall. He was wearing a long black coat over a loose dark shirt; his face was in shadow, but a shuttered lantern was sitting in the straw at his feet and by its faint light she could see that he was wearing heavy leather boots.

She said shakily, ‘Thank you.’

‘I’m glad to be of service to you.’ He reached down for the lantern, opened the shutter and held it towards her at arm’s length, studying her face. His eyes widened, and he caught his breath as if what he saw were very surprising, or very gratifying, or both. He said softly, ‘You’re welcome home.’

‘Thanks – we only just got here today . . .’ Aoife glanced behind her, expecting to see the others climbing down from the carriage. They were, but she could hardly make them out because the carriage was so far off – a black silhouette against the light of the single torch. It was as if, instead of taking a few paces after the coachman, she had run a hundred metres deeper into the stables. She turned back to the man. ‘Where is this place?’