The Watching Wood (19 page)

There was more giggling and scuffling as the owners of those blue and green feet appeared to tussle and then scurry away as something bigger approached. Grace couldn’t see it at all, but its shadow covered the floor and its breathing wheezed and rattled like wind through a rusty wind chime.

‘Hiding.’ A voice to her right made her stomach squirm. It was like an old door, creaking with eerie musical notes. ‘They’ve snuck away and are hiding in dark corners. But they cannot run.’

‘My aboraceous friend is right.’ This voice was slurpy, like water slopping in a trough. ‘The witch-oags must be in hiding within the castle walls, but might I stress, dear friends, that it is not the young ones that hold the power here. The Three took the island. To take back the home, we must find the Three.’

‘But the young ones are so tender and juicy.’ The creaking voice snickered and loudly licked his lips.

The slurpy voice didn’t laugh, but others did. Grace felt an
urgent need to pee. She crossed her legs beneath the curtain, twisting the fistful of Delilah’s jumper in her hand. Beneath the material she could feel her friend’s narrow shoulders trembling.

The creatures were spreading out through the corridors, whooping and squealing as they ran through the empty passageways. Several bodies scuffed past the curtain and it shifted in the girls’ hands, but still they went unnoticed. Until…

‘What do I see?’ the creaking voice whispered. ‘A little foot. One juicy little foot.’

Grace looked down in horror at her left shoe, out beyond the safety of the curtain. She snapped it back under the velvet but the damage was done.

‘I know where the witch-oags are.’ The voice was getting closer. ‘I know where they’ve gone to hide. They think I can’t see them there, but they don’t know they’re in plain sight!’

The curtain was whipped away and, before them, stood the owner of the creaking voice. He looked like the gremlin that attacked Adie, but much taller, with fleshy bulbs protruding between the black splinters of his arms, legs and neck. His yellow, needle-toothed grin stretched beyond the width of his cheeks, as if detached from his face and his long, pointed tongue slithered noisily over his lips.

‘Let the feasting begin.’

‘No!’ Grace shrieked. She looked pleadingly at several
other faeries that remained in the reception hall. One, with a long face, elongated, bent limbs and a body like a mushroom stalk, frowned and regarded her carefully. ‘We’re not who you want. We haven’t done anything wrong.
Please
!’

‘Mmm, tasty morsels, I love it when they cry,’ said the gremlin. ‘They’re keeping bad company and now they must
die
.’

He snatched her wrist, his grip like a vice. She squealed in pain and shock as his jaws stretched wide.

‘Please, we just want to get home. We don’t belong here. We’re not who you’re looking for!’

‘I think you’ll find,’ a sing-song voice behind them made the gremlin stop suddenly, his mouth open, ‘that this particular group are considered outcasts amongst witch-kind. If it’s revenge upon the Three you seek, these witch-oags will make a less than satisfying meal.’

The gremlin glared at the tall, shaggy beast that stood in the passageway.

‘And who are you?’

The mushroom faery stepped between the two.

‘Years, centuries,’ he whispered earnestly. ‘You are too young to remember, aboraceous, but this is the Phooka. And he has been missed.’

The Phooka smiled, an odd look on a goat, and held open his shaggy arms to the mushroom faery, who stretched up on his spindly limbs and hugged him warmly, dark streams staining his white, oval face.

‘You have been missed,’ the creature whispered again.

‘Witches are witches,’ the big gremlin snarled, ignoring the reunion, ‘dinner is dinner, and meat is meat. The Three are not here, these creatures are, and I want to eat.’

‘I met them in the dungeons.’ The Phooka looked at the girls, and Grace still felt uneasy under the stare of those yellow eyes. ‘They defied the Three and were punished. I freed them myself; a little indulgence to irk the Three before my strength is fully restored. But then I owed them something. They have a little pet that was of some assistance to me.’

The scattering of other faeries in the hall murmured curiously as the little wood nymph crawled from Delilah’s collar, standing on her shoulder and swinging on her earlobe. He grinned at the other creatures, giving each of them a good view of his teeth that were finally losing their pink stain.

‘Fascinating,’ said the mushroom faery. He crept forward to tickle the wood nymph under the chin. ‘He seems quite attached.’ He glanced at the nymph’s firm grip on Delilah’s ear. ‘Literally.’

The big gremlin bristled.

‘A tiny-brained nymph, just a little brown rogue, will not come between me and delicious witch-oags.’

‘You underestimate your dryad kin, my friend. Wood nymphs are suspicious by nature, and mischievous by heart. This is a bond not easily formed.’ The mushroom faery looked deep into Delilah’s big, brown eyes and smiled a little. ‘If she
has his friendship, then she has earned it.’

He sighed and stood up somewhat, keeping his knees bent.

‘I think we can turn these little ones loose. They are no threat to us.’

The big gremlin scowled, but didn’t stop the girls as they scooted to the front door, keeping their backs against the wall.

‘Thank you,’ Grace breathed.

She noticed Jenny giving the Phooka an uncertain wave, though he didn’t respond.

Through the door and into the open air felt like impossible freedom. Grace squinted against the green hue that suffused the landscape, but was grateful to feel the sun on her skin.

They were crossing the dry, cracked rock, halfway to the woods, when they heard the dreadful scrape of wood on stone. Behind them the big gremlin had slunk from the castle, his black, fractured limbs scratching on the rock as he made his way – moving on four legs, then two, then four again – towards them. The pale lumps of flesh dotted over his body bobbed and shook as he moved.

Then something caught his eye. He froze, staring at something in the distance to his right and, just like that, he was scrambling back to the castle.

The girls didn’t stop to see what had terrified him into retreat. They just ran for the safety of the woods and the promise of home.

19

No Waiting

Tithon Castle was infested. It looked like some defenceless animal, swarmed by locusts that crawled up its face, into its eyes and ears. Rachel felt sick. Faeries filled the grounds and clung to the stone walls and, even some distance away, she could hear a wave of terrible sound; growling and screeching, the smacking of lips.

‘Hurry,’ she called to the Hunter at the helm. ‘Please, hurry!’

She shuddered as she watched the barricaded windows on the ground floor being cleared by the creatures, and the hordes in the castle grounds disappearing inside the building. In her peripheral vision, she caught a glimpse of something blue.

It was a water sprite standing right beside her and smiling.
She was nonplussed for a moment until another one popped up in front, and then another. The Hunters were doing what Hunters did best. They would infiltrate the castle undercover of glamour, and attack the faeries from within.

The ship finally slowed, its keel grinding into the rock below. Rachel watched Aruj tuck the magical nuke into the leather baldric that crossed from his shoulder to his waist, before he glamoured himself into a tall, wiry beast. She took several deep breaths, but doubted she could hold any glamour of her own for more than a few minutes. She was still shaky from the trauma of the woods and the flame-running that caught the Hunters’ attention. She needed rest, but there was no time.

Gripping the gunwale she readied herself to glide from the ship as soon as it was stationary, but several faeries running from the castle made her pause. There were five smaller faeries, and one large gremlin behind. Wait, they weren’t faeries….

‘Grace!’ she screamed at the top of her lungs. ‘Jennnny!’

They didn’t hear her, but the gruesome thing that followed them stared in her direction, then hot-footed it back to the castle. The girls disappeared into the woods.

What time was it? Was she too late? Could she catch them?

Her tiredness forgotten, Rachel vaulted over the timber gunwale, slowing her fall just enough to ensure an untidy landing and no broken legs. She could hear Alinda calling
for her in a worried voice, but she didn’t look back. It was now or never.

With the sound of her own breath pounding in her ears, she wondered how she could ever have considered not going home. Now that it was just ahead of her – this one chance almost within her reach – she wanted it so badly it made her head swim. She wanted to see her family. She wanted her dad’s chicken curry for dinner. She wanted to walk through the school gates and know that her friends would be there. She wanted to laugh with them, and annoy them, and complain about Mrs Quinlan’s smelly kitchen with them.

She pulled open the leather jerkin that was too tight over her cotton blouse. It was just dressing-up. That’s all the Hunters’ Mansion had been, a game of make-believe. But the game was over now, and she was ready to go home.

The forest seemed lighter somehow. Even over the rushing feet of her friends, Grace could hear birdsong and scuffling in the bushes and trees. Empty of faeries, the place felt and sounded like the woods in Dunbridge.

Dunbridge.

Home
.

The sun was climbing in the sky, dappling the girls with sunlight, and the higher it got, the more the chance of ever going home slipped through their fingers. They had to hope
Rachel was already there, and that she would stall the Ferryman if they were late.

The little wood nymph nestled into the curve at the back of Delilah’s neck, grinning at Grace. She growled at him, but found that her irritation spurred her on, and that she was keeping perfect pace behind the small girl. Jenny was further on, her powerful legs speeding ahead of the others. Grace didn’t call her back. The sooner one of them got to the pebble beach, the better.

She could hear Una’s laboured breaths as she pounded beside her and could feel her pain. P.E. was a dreaded subject for both of them, and they avoided this kind of gut-wrenching exercise like the plague.

‘I can see!’ Jenny’s voice was strangled with exertion. ‘I can see it … it’s up ahead. Come on!’

She disappeared into a final coppice of trees and the others raced after her.

Grace’s ankle squirmed painfully to one side as the solid forest floor softened into sandy clay and then turned to pebbles. But she ran on, making for the mist-shrouded figure on the ferry. They were just metres away when Jenny stopped dead.

‘She’s not here,’ she exclaimed, turning back to the others. ‘Rachel’s not here.’

The perpetual mist thickened over the water, but was thin enough on land for Grace to see for some distance. There
was no-one else on shore.

‘She’s late,’ she said, almost to herself. ‘But she’ll be here.’

But she didn’t believe it. The sun was rising in the sky – and Rachel should have made it in good time. Something was very wrong.

She felt the sharp edges of the gemstone flower beneath her jumper, and wondered if they could bargain for time.

‘No bargain,’ the rusty voice of the Ferryman drifted through the fog, as if he had read her mind. ‘No waiting.’

The waves licked at her feet. She felt like a bag of sand with a hole in one corner; energy drained out of her and her eyelids grew heavy.

‘Delilah,’ she said cautiously. ‘Can you …? Are you feeling tired?’

‘It’s the water,’ the girl replied, rubbing her eyes. ‘It’s like it’s sucking all the life-force out of us. I won’t be able to do any …’ she lowered her voice and glanced to the Ferryman, ‘
tricks
to keep him here.’

‘Departure,’ the raspy voice sounded again. ‘Have you the payment?’

‘We need a minute,’ Grace said urgently.

‘Departure,’ he repeated. ‘Have you the payment?’

‘We have it.’ Grace whipped the sapphire rose out from under her jumper. ‘But we have one more passenger. We need to wait.’

‘No waiting.’

The Ferryman’s sinewy hands pulled the end of the lamp-pole out of the sea-bed with a
ssslurp
, over his hooded head and back into the water. He started to push the boat from the shore.

‘Nooo!’

Grace lunged and grabbed hold of the bow, stepping shin-deep into the water.

‘Oh,’ she swooned as the cool liquid grasped at her ankles, sapping what was left of her energy.

She instantly felt like she had been without sleep for days, weeks. She fell forward over the hull, dropping the blue rose into the bottom of the boat.

‘Here,’ she gasped, ‘we have payment. But please …’

‘Grace!’

Adie’s voice came from behind as the rest of her slipped over the damp timber and onto the ferry. She felt Jenny’s heavy step land beside her, and squeals and yells as the other three were pulled aboard.

Out of the water, Grace’s head began to clear. Her friends were around her, wheezing and struggling against the energy-sapping effects of the seawater. Jenny was the only one standing. She held one of the Ferryman’s shrouded arms, gritting her teeth with effort, while he continued to punt the boat out to sea. Grace clambered to her feet and grabbed his other arm, but his limbs were like the arms of some great machine; solid and unstoppable. He worked away, oblivious to their efforts.

‘She’s there, I see her!’ Adie pushed past Jenny, pointing wildly and almost toppling over the bow. ‘There’s Rachel! Can’t you see her? On the beach?’

Through the mist Grace saw a figure in boots and a leather jerkin. She recognised the sleek, dark hair immediately.

‘She’s here!’ she screamed at the Ferryman’s hood. ‘She’s made it. Go back!’

But the arms didn’t stop moving.

‘Stop!’ Jenny joined in, still pulling against the machine-like arms. ‘She’s here, you have to go back!’

But the boat didn’t stop. Rachel stood on shore, waving and shouting. Grace’s fists clenched and unclenched as she stood on the bow, helpless.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Delilah grab something from the stern and wrap it around herself.

‘Throw me,’ the small girl said, tying the rope swiftly around her waist.

‘
What
?’

‘THROW ME.’

Without another second’s hesitation, Jenny and Grace grabbed an arm and leg each, ran the few steps they had room for, and launched the tiny girl into the air. The other end of the rope was tied to a cleat on the stern and, as the coils of braided hemp ran out, Grace saw the sharp pull on
Delilah’s waist as she landed in the water. Rachel waded in up to her waist, and reached for the small girl paddling ahead of her.

Grace held her breath as Rachel’s and Delilah’s hands reached further and further, getting closer and closer. Their fingers touched. They were going to make it. They were all going to make it home. They were
all
safe …

No!

A sudden movement of the boat on a wave and Delilah was jerked out of Rachel’s grasp.

No
!

Rachel strove to get closer to the small girl, but she was getting out of her depth.

No deeper
, Grace thought, though she wanted to scream the opposite.
No deeper – not in this water. It’ll drown you
.

As if she had heard, Rachel suddenly turned and swam back, her head dipping underwater more than once.

As if on automatic pilot, Grace and Jenny pulled Delilah back to the boat, lifting her, gasping and spluttering, to the safety of the deck.

Far away, their friend crawled from the waves to the shore, collapsing onto one hip and looking back over her shoulder. Through the fog, Grace could still see Rachel’s face. That lovely face. One by one, she felt hands clutch her jumper. Jenny, Adie, Delilah and Una gripped hands, tighter and tighter, so tight Grace lost feeling in her fingers. They clung
to each other and watched their friend, alone on the beach, until the mist swallowed her up and there was nothing.

The fog was swimming, swirling, spreading apart into clumps of dark grey. Behind it was starry black. Grace groaned and turned her face to the heavens. Shiny, iron claws reached for the sky. Her head spun and the claws became the ugly wrought-iron twists on top of the gates of Dunbridge Cemetery. It was night-time. The sky was cloudy but there was no rain.

She was lying on the ground between two rows of gravestones and she wasn’t sure how she got there. She heard the
sshh
of gentle waves and leaned up on her elbows to look past her feet. The fog was thick, moving away as if blown by a giant bellows. The water – the sea – beneath it swept back across the graveyard, disappearing into the night. And in the mist a hooded figure piloted a boat by lamplight.

The Ferryman
.

We’re home
, Grace thought, her mind clearing.
This is Dunbridge
.

Her friends were scattered around her, all struggling to their feet as they figured out where they were. Grace saw Adie’s face light up in recognition of home, then suddenly crumple as the realisation hit them both at the same time. None of them broke the silence of the cemetery; they just
stood and let the grief fall between them. Grace held the moment for as long as she could, because once she moved, it would be moving on without
her
. The second they left this spot, Rachel would be behind them. They would go to Mrs Quinlan and Ms Lemon; they would search all the ancient books in Mr Pamuk’s shop, and Grace would scour every webpage on the internet that made any mention of
Hy-Breasal
or a faery island. They would search for a way to bring her home if it took the rest of their lives.

But Grace remembered the pure astonishment on Mrs Quinlan’s and Ms Lemon’s faces when that weird tube began sucking the girls from their own world. They hadn’t known what it was or where it was taking them.

The graveyard was cold, but Grace held her arms out from her sides so she would feel it more. She heard the flutter of a bird’s wings, even though it was so late, and a crow landed on a stone cross a few feet away. It eyed the girls curiously, then took off with a loud squawk. The moment was over.

Grace moved first, walking forward with her hands held out. Jenny took one, Adie took the other. Delilah and Una joined the line on either side and all five girls walked through the gates. The little wood nymph scurried up and down their arms, and across their shoulders, but Grace barely felt him. Turning onto the black tarmac of the road she paused. The avenue stretched ahead of them,
moonlit and long. Still without a word they moved forward together, and Grace felt a tear in her heart for every step they took.