HOBS

Daniel Cullen

Copyright © 2023 Daniel Cullen

All rights reserved

The characters and events portrayed in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living or dead, is coincidental and not intended by the author.

No part of this book may be reproduced, or stored in a retrieval system, or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, or otherwise, without express written permission of the publisher.

ISBN-13: 9781234567890
ISBN-10: 1477123456

Cover design by: Daniel Cullen
Library of Congress Control Number: 2018675309

Published by Abbey Road Publishing
www.narrowdark.com

For Thomas & Pob

Buy me stuff.

"All this country is hollow.  Could you strike it with some gigantic hammer it would boom like a drum..."

Sir Arthur Conan Doyle

Contents

Title Page

Copyright

Dedication

Epigraph

Part 1

CHAPTER 1

CHAPTER 2

CHAPTER 3

CHAPTER 4

CHAPTER 5

Part 2

CHAPTER 6

CHAPTER 7

CHAPTER 8

CHAPTER 9

CHAPTER 10

CHAPTER 11

CHAPTER 12

CHAPTER 13

CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 15

CHAPTER 16

CHAPTER 17

CHAPTER 18

CHAPTER 19

CHAPTER 20

CHAPTER 21

CHAPTER 22

CHAPTER 23

CHAPTER 24

Part 3

CHAPTER 25

CHAPTER 26

CHAPTER 27

CHAPTER 28

CHAPTER 29

CHAPTER 30

CHAPTER 31

CHAPTER 32

CHAPTER 33

CHAPTER 34

CHAPTER 35

CHAPTER 36

CHAPTER 37

CHAPTER 38

CHAPTER 39

CHAPTER 40

CHAPTER 41

CHAPTER 42

Part 4

CHAPTER 43

CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 45

CHAPTER 46

CHAPTER 47

CHAPTER 48

CHAPTER 49

CHAPTER 50

CHAPTER 51

CHAPTER 52

CHAPTER 53

CHAPTER 54

CHAPTER 55

CHAPTER 56

Acknowledgements

About The Author

Part 1

Thursday

CHAPTER 1

Town Mouse

The bus pulled up with a smooth hush of brakes and Jac Jenkins barged out through the doors before they’d fully opened. Ignoring the driver’s bellow of protest, he hiked a battered old schoolbag onto one shoulder and sprinted across the street.

Seconds later, three more boys jumped out of the bus and onto the pavement. They waited for a break in the traffic and then set off after him.

It was market day in Woolmouth. After a morning of steady rain, the clouds had finally cleared to reveal bright blue skies and the village was bustling with activity. An old, cobbled square sloped up through the centre, and today it was filled with trade stalls – a colourful shanty of noise and smells that threatened to spill out onto the puddled road.

Jac ducked under the patchwork tarpaulin roof and plunged headfirst into the throng. His heart was beating so hard he could feel it in his skull. Come on, come on, he thought desperately. Keep moving!

He tried to head in a straight line, but it was impossible; the market was a crowded labyrinth. Every few yards he’d hit a bottleneck of shoppers and vendors haggling in loud, Derbyshire accents, and he had to squeeze between teetering stalls to find a different route.

A woman laughed as he rushed by. ‘You causing trouble again, lad?’

He glanced back. ‘Who, me? Nah, come on!’

‘Careful,’ she called. ‘You’ll hurt yersen!’

‘That’s what I’m trying to avoid,’ he panted, before running straight into the back of a broad-shouldered trader. Jac flinched as the man spun around to reveal thick eyebrows furrowed over a huge, black beard.

‘Alright, youth? What’s yeh hurry?’

‘Sorry,’ Jac stammered, trying his best to ignore the thunderous scowl being cast in his direction. ‘Being chased by maniacs.’

‘Maniacs, is it?’ The man studied him. Jac was short, even for a twelve year old, and his new school blazer was way too long on the arms. He had light-brown skin and a mass of dark, curly hair, which erupted in every direction from the top of his head. He was staring back up with a nervous half-smile.

Finally, the trader grunted. ‘Well then…’ Reaching across to his stall, he plucked one of the many knitted objects lined up there. ‘Best tek this,’ and he held out a small, woollen figure. It had a furry mane, a large, squashed nose and two five-pence coins for eyes.

Jac took the figure with a puzzled frown. It was one of the ugliest things he’d ever seen. ‘Um… thanks. What, erm—’

The man’s eyebrows lifted and his beard split into a wide, toothy grin. ‘For luck!’ he boomed. ‘Now, go on, off with yeh.’

With a slight shake of his head, Jac blundered on through the throng. What was it with this place, anyway? Most of the time it was deserted – a boring little rural village. Then, once a week, came this invasion of battered white vans. Suddenly, you couldn’t move for nylon knickers, squashed fruit and – he glanced down at the knitted monstrosity in his hand – and whatever this thing was. It was nuts.

‘There he is!’

Talking of nuts…

‘OY!’ The gravel-like tones of his pursuers were unmistakable. ‘Where you going, Town Mouse? We want to talk to you.’

‘No thanks.’ Stuffing the figure into his blazer pocket, Jac hopped over a crate of oranges and slipped deftly between two vans. Finally. He was at the edge of the market: home free. His street should be just…

But it wasn’t. He was back at the main road. With a horrible jolt, Jac realised he’d managed to double back on himself.

‘Lost?’

He spun round; the three boys were standing right behind him, mouths twisted into triumphant sneers. Jac felt his body stiffen. He knew who they were, of course – everyone at school knew the Butcher brothers. Tyler, Baz and Daz: six fists, three heads and half a brain between them.

‘What’s the matter, newbie? Don’t know your way around yet?’ This was Tyler. A large face squashed beneath a bowl haircut. He was the eldest; about two years older than Jac.

‘Course he don’t!’ said Baz. ‘Not got a map, has he?’

Daz – the youngest – sneered. ‘Aw, can’t find the tourist office?’

They circled around him, blinking as they stepped into the sunshine. ‘OY!’ shouted Tyler. ‘I’m talkin’ to you. What? Don’t they have manners in London?’

‘OK! OK!’ Jac said, stepping back into the shade. ‘I get it, I’m the new kid. Big target, right here. But come on, do we have to do this again? Can’t you lot just leave off?’

‘Leave orf!’ shouted Tyler, causing his two younger siblings to snigger. ‘He’s a right cockney, in’t he?’

‘Yeah, gor blimey guvnor!’ mocked Baz.

Jac winced. ‘Oof! You got me, devastating burn. So… we done?’

As the three boys continued to advance, Jac glanced back: a trestle table full of fruit boxes was blocking his retreat. There was nowhere to go.

‘Say grass!’

Jac blinked. ‘What?’

‘Grass!’ Daz repeated. He pronounced the word with a flat ‘a’ – like mass. Then, in a moment of inspiration, he added, ‘Y’know, GRAARSE!’

The brothers burst into fresh howls of laughter, sounding like three badly blocked drains. Not one of them noticed the heavy bulge in the tarpaulin above their heads, or the steady drip of water from the edge.

But Jac did.

‘Say – say CAAARSTLE!’ Baz gurgled.

‘No, bath!’ Daz brayed over the laughter. ‘BAAARF!’

‘How about moron?’ said Jac, quietly. ‘I can say that.’

The laughter stopped.

Tyler stepped closer. His face loomed over Jac, eyes glinting like two glass shards in squashed dough, and Jac shrank back against the table.

‘You need to be careful, Town Mouse,’ Tyler breathed. ‘You don’t belong here. No one knows you. No one likes you. Maybe you should’ve stopped in London – instead of running away.’

Jac felt a nasty clench in his stomach. He swallowed hard.

Tyler smiled. ‘Oh, yeah. I know what happened. I know why you’re here. I know all about it.’ He glanced back at his brothers, throwing them a sly wink before turning back. ‘Poor little mouse. Is he sad? Is he gonna cry? Or is he just…’ He broke off with a frown. ‘What’re you doing?’

Jac had raised both his hands in the air. He stretched up until he could feel the heavy weight of the bulging plastic sheet above his head.

‘Big target,’ he said, keeping eye contact with Tyler. ‘Right there.’

And he pushed.

The weight shifted quickly, as several litres of cold, brown rainwater sloshed forwards over the edge of the tarpaulin. It splattered loudly onto the cobbles, drenching the three brothers who stood beneath.

For a moment, the Butchers were too shocked to react; they simply stood, frozen in horror, gasping in and out like beached fish as water trickled from their chins.

‘GEEEEH!’ managed Tyler, finally.

Baz nodded frantically. ‘‘BUUUURGH!’ he agreed.

Jac didn’t hang around for Daz’s erudite contribution; he dodged between the stunned trio and sprinted out onto Main Street. There was a furious roar from behind him, followed by the pounding of heavy feet. The Butcher brothers were not giving up.

Skidding out onto the pavement, Jac turned left to follow it around the edge of the market and risked a quick glance over one shoulder. His pursuers were horribly close; close enough to see the look of fury in Tyler’s eyes. Jac felt his blood turn cold.

‘Not good!’ he gasped. ‘Not good! Not good!’

Swerving between shocked pedestrians, he ran past two fruit and veg stalls, a riotous flower stand (almost tripping headfirst into the potted plants) and on towards the Hope & Anchor pub. He had his bearings now: Roundhill Lane was the next left. If he could just—

The car seemed to come out of nowhere. It screeched to a halt across the cobbles right in front of him, and Jac had to put his hands out to save himself from sprawling straight over the bonnet. He had just enough time to read the word ‘POLICE’ before the door opened and a man in a sergeant’s uniform stepped out.

‘All of you, stop! Right there!’ the man boomed, his voice loud enough to silence the square. All around them, people stopped to watch the drama unfold. Jac felt himself cringe with embarrassment.

‘What the hell d’you think you’re doing?’ the sergeant continued. ‘Running through the street like a herd of elephants. You could’ve hurt someone!’ He pointed over Jac’s head. ‘You three: go home and dry off.’

Without a word, the Butcher brothers turned and slouched off down the road, followed by a few amused jeers from the gathered shoppers. Jac ducked his head down and turned away, ready to follow suit – until a large hand clamped down on his shoulder.

‘And you,’ the voice growled dangerously, ‘in the car. Now.’

CHAPTER 2

The Hill

With a sense of impending doom, Jac walked around, opened the door and flopped down into the front seat of the police car. After a moment, the sergeant climbed in behind the wheel and turned to face him.

‘Seriously?’

Jac stared down at his hands. ‘Hey, Dad.’

‘What was that? You’re supposed to be making friends, not starting fights.’

‘I am,’ Jac said flatly. ‘They’re my new BFFs.’

With his open, friendly face, Sergeant Wesley Jenkins – Wes for short – was the sort that everyone liked as soon as they met him. In fact, most people noticed his smile before they noticed his uniform, a trait which came in handy sometimes.

He wasn’t smiling now.

‘You do know what I do for a living?’

‘Hard to miss it, Dad.’ Jac reached toward the door handle. ‘Can I go?’

‘Wait. Are you OK?’

Jac slumped back. ‘I’m fine.’

‘Talk to me. What—’

‘Everything’s fine!’

Wes looked up to the roof of the car. When he looked back, his expression had softened.

‘Look, Jac, it’ll get easier. I promise. This is a good place, but it’s small. Everyone knows each other. They’re tight knit and the kids pick up on anything new. They hear your accent and they feel threatened, you know?’

Jac almost laughed. ‘My accent? Have you heard this lot?’

Wes paused, giving him a piercing look. ‘So? They sound different. Does that mean you can’t communicate? You can’t try and make new friends?’

Jac didn’t reply.

‘Come on. Are you even—’

‘What’s the point? These people don’t want to know me.’

Wes flared. ‘Right, enough! It’s been three months. You think it’s your accent that’s keeping people away? Grow up! It’s you, Jac. You’re angry all the time!’ He paused and took a breath. ‘I don’t… that isn’t what I meant. Of course you’re angry. Of course you are…’

They both sat in silence for a moment.

‘You just need to give them a chance. Give this a chance.’ Wes bowed his head and, for one awful, horrible moment, Jac thought his dad was going to cry. Instead, he ran a hand over his face and gave a tired smile. ‘I keep wishing she was here, you know?’ He looked out through the window and the smile broadened. ‘She’d have loved this place.’

Jac’s eyes flashed dangerously. ‘What?’

‘This. All this. Woolmouth. She—’

‘No,’ Jac said, his voice brittle. ‘She would never have left London.’

Wes shook his head. ‘Jac, listen to me,’ he said gently. ‘Your mum loved Derbyshire. And, honestly, I think she’d have jumped at the chance to get away from the city.’

Jac felt a cold ache blossom up from his belly and into his chest. It took a few seconds before he could reply. ‘Yeah?’ he choked. ‘Well, I guess we’ll never know, will we?’

The words fell out of his mouth like stones. Too heavy. Too hard. He could almost feel them scraping past his lips and thumping into the footwell between them. He turned away, already feeling the mutinous tang of tears at the back of his throat.

‘Are we done?’

His dad was still. Sitting straight-backed and cold. ‘Homework?’ he said quietly.

Jac wiped his eyes, his hands were shaking. ‘Yeah. Not – I’ll do it later. Can I—’

‘Just go.’

Barging the door open, Jac fled.

He ran past the pub and up Roundhill Lane. It climbed steeply, and soon he was above the village. His own house was just ahead, but Jac ignored that; instead, he dodged through a stile beside the road and clambered up the steep hill beyond. The hill was small and pudding-bowl round, with a neat circle of trees at its peak. Jac reached the top, exhausted.

At last! he thought, collapsing onto the old stone ledge that jutted out between the copse. FREE!

He could see right across the valley from here, starting with his own house below, over the jumble of crooked rooftops and wheezing chimneys that was Woolmouth, and then across the meadows towards Farlock town. Clouds tumbled across the sky on a light breeze and the October sun was still warm against his skin.

But Jac glared at it all with a bitter scowl. She’d have loved this? Had his dad really sat there, with a big, dumb smile on his face, and said that Mum would have loved this?

Mum.

Sudden, unguarded memories flashed into his mind. Soft, dark skin. Deep, brown eyes. Her smile. Her laugh. The hospital corridors…

He flinched away, feeling his mouth fill with saliva. Feeling the fist inside him tighten.

It seemed like it was always there, these days: that clenched fist in his stomach. A constant, powerful ache. And every day the fist would clench even more, pulling him in on himself. Pulling tighter and tighter until his spine bowed and his body ached.

A bird landed nearby and began to whistle a delicate tune, until Jac threw a twig; the bird flittered up into the trees behind him with an indignant trill.

And now this place.

With a sigh, he fished his mobile from his blazer pocket and checked the screen.

No signal.

‘Of course not,’ he muttered. There was never any signal. He held the phone up higher and waved it about. ‘Come on…’

Everything about Woolmouth was wrong, especially the people. He’d tried exploring, but locals kept talking to him. Complete strangers. They’d come up and say made-up words like Ayup or Aah-do. It was insane! Even the traffic was weird. Half the population seemed to drive about in homemade cars with exhausts coming out of the bonnets – like a cross between Postman Pat and Mad Max.

But, the worst thing, the absolute worst thing, was the Wi-Fi.

Jac stood up and stretched his arm, lifting the phone higher and higher until, finally, a single bar appeared in one corner.

‘Yes!’

Still holding it up and being very careful not to lose the signal, he unlocked the screen and scrolled through his accounts. It didn’t take long, they all told the same story: no new messages.

Sadly, Jac dropped the phone back into his pocket and slumped down onto the stone ledge. He’d tried so hard to stay in touch with his mates from London, but Woolmouth was like a communication barrier. Every time he tried to join in online games: no signal. Group chats: no signal. A simple text message: no signal. He was completely cut off. And, as the weeks stretched into months, they’d all just – stopped trying.

Angrily, he threw another twig down the hill.

This place was a mistake. Why couldn’t his dad see that? There was nothing here, no supermarket, no cinema, no fast food. It was too small, too boring, too quiet.

RRRUMMMBLE!

Jac frowned. Was that thunder? He scanned the horizon for dark clouds, but the sky was clear. Maybe—

CRRRA-ACK!

He stood up in alarm. Just across the valley was Lowdale Wood. It stretched right to the top of the hillside, where – unless he was seeing things – the trees were beginning to shake.

Moving quickly, Jac picked up his schoolbag and rooted inside. His dad had told him, over and over, not to take his camera to school, but… there! He snatched out a battered old Canon SLR and used it to zoom in.

He was right: the trees were shaking. And it was getting worse. The movement spread out, rippling through the foliage and sending a flurry of birds into the air. He was about to zoom in closer when, with a sudden roar, the trees burst into flame and a stream of bright crimson light exploded into the sky.

Jac took a photograph without thinking and then slowly lowered the camera.

The light thrashed through the air, twisting and thrashing like a ferocious serpent. It almost looked alive. Even as he watched, open-mouthed, the light changed direction – abruptly diving back down towards the village. The roaring sound grew louder and the air crackled with electricity as the light flickered across rooftops.

As it flashed up over his house.

As it flew straight towards him…

CHAPTER 3

Thirteen Minutes Earlier

Ted Dakin was scared of the dark.

Of course, there was nothing wrong with that – lots of people were scared of the dark. It was one of the most common phobias in the world, especially among younger children. The problem for Ted was that he was a 37-year-old security guard: dark places were an occupational hazard. Normally, it wasn’t too bad, but this latest job… well, it was a killer.

Taking a deep breath, he flicked on the torch and started down into the dank gloom. The ground was uneven and he kept losing his footing on loose stones. As he stumbled, the beam from his torchlight swept erratically over ancient crags and then up into the yawning void above.

The cavern was vast; a cathedral-like expanse of shadow and rock. It was like stepping into another world; a dark, crooked world, hidden deep below the grass and soil. Distant minerals sparkled and danced in the dim light, and he could see pale stalactites hanging overhead. They glistened like wet teeth.

A shiver ran through him and he paused. Ted had never been particularly perceptive, but even he couldn’t deny the strong sense of unease that came over him in that moment. Glancing back, he saw the small hoist-lift that had brought him down and he actually considered turning around. There was still time. He could just – leave.

‘SKRT…! Ted!’

He almost cried out.

‘Where are you?’

Ted unclipped a small, two-way radio from his belt and thumbed the button. ‘On my way,’ he growled. ‘What’s going on? I’ve just left the gate unmanned.’

‘Get down here!’ The woman’s voice was shaking. ‘Quickly, before… FZZHHH!’

The feeling of unease hardened into a knot of blunt fear. ‘Say again. I can’t—’

‘HELP! For God’s sake! We’ve— SKRRKT!’

‘Where are you? What’s wrong?’

The radio gave no reply save for a static hiss.

He tried again. ‘Hello, Professor? What’s happened?’

Another dead hiss.

With a curse, Ted jammed the radio back into his belt and ran the last few steps to the edge of a massive crater in the centre of the cavern. The surrounding ridge was silhouetted against a harsh, inner glow that lit up his face as he peered over the edge.

This was the main excavation site. A circle of powerful halogen lamps had been erected just inside the basin. They threw a stark, blanket of light across a chaotic jumble of generators, trestle tables and storage tents. Ted had only been down here a handful of times, and on every occasion this crater had been full of movement. An excited frenzy of noise and activity. But right now – it was as still as a tomb.

He raised a hand to shield his eyes from the glaring lights below. ‘HELLO?’ His voice was loud, shattering the silence. There was no response, no movement. Nothing.

A heavy-duty, plastic pathway led into the pit. Nervously, Ted pocketed his torch and started down. His footsteps cast a resounding echo across the cold, still air. At the foot of the slope, he called out again, but by now it was obvious there was no one around to answer. The site was deserted. The only sound was the faint hum of the generator.

Ted slowed, his eyes fixed on the scuffed, mesh flooring. He didn’t want to look up. Didn’t want to lay eyes on that – thing. But that must be where they were. The team must have found a way inside. He stopped, took a deep breath and slowly lifted his head. There it was, in the centre of the crater, rising up through a complex tangle of metal scaffold and wooden boards.

The Primary Artefact.

Most of it was buried, speared into the rock, yet still it was huge. Leaning back, Ted followed the towering shape up and out of the pool of light. A domed column of pure, featureless black that stretched all the way to the craggy ceiling above. Despite the halogen lights, that strange, impenetrable surface remained shrouded in darkness, like the ghostly prow of some colossal submarine.

Professor Thorn had made the discovery four months ago and now ran the excavation with ruthless, uncompromising efficiency. This was her find, her dig, and the rest of the team acted on her strict orders, which meant total secrecy.

A cold flutter ran across Ted’s skin and he lowered his gaze. He didn’t care how important it was – that thing still gave him the heebie-jeebies!

Ahead, the pathway led through a gap in the scaffolding and down into a deep trench. Halogen lighting rigs had been set up on either side of a freshly exposed section of the mysterious black shell and, in the centre, was a small, round opening.

Ted eyed the doorway warily. It looked very dark. Who knew what was in there? Unclipping the radio, he raised it to his mouth one last time.

‘Professor?’ he said. ‘Can you hear me? I’m at the entrance to the Artefact.’ He paused. ‘Can anyone hear me?’ The guard let out a long breath. Then, slowly, carefully, he began to approach the half-buried structure.

He stopped when the halogen lamps exploded.

The two nearest the doorway went first; detonating in a shower of sparks that rained down onto the dust. Ted cried out in shock, instinctively ducking as more explosions flashed across the site.

All around him, the air suddenly felt charged, as if it were full of electricity. And, as he cowered, a low, ominous rumble rolled across the cavern. A flash of light caught his eye, and he turned, slack-jawed, to see a bloom of flickering red mist swirl up from the trench.

The mist seethed and flared like a living thing as it spiralled across the Primary Artefact. Scaffolding buckled around it, splitting and falling about Ted in a clatter of bouncing poles and crashing planks. He fell back, screaming soundlessly into the noise. He watched the mist surge to the top of the dark tower, condense into a concentrated beam of dazzling crimson, and then blast straight through the rock ceiling. It left a perfect round hole before vanishing into the afternoon sky.

For a few seconds, there was a soft patter as the vaporised remnants of stone and soil rained down. After that, the only sound Ted could hear was his own breathing; harsh and ragged with shock. A hazy shaft of daylight filtered through the hole, but it was too far and too faint to penetrate the total dark that now surrounded him.

Total. Dark.

A slow, cold panic began to scrape up Ted’s spine. This was it: his worst nightmare come true. Numbly, he reached for the torch, fingers groping uselessly at his pocket. He couldn’t think. His brain was numb; stunned into a dreadful paralysis…

Until something in the shadows growled.

Pure, primal terror sliced through Ted’s gut like a silver knife. Forgetting the torch, he scrambled to his feet and ran. Bouncing off tables, tripping over chairs, lurching blindly through the crater, his only instinct was to escape.

Without the lamps, it was impossible to find the track and he used his hands to haul himself up the craggy slope. The rock cut into his fingers, but he didn’t care. His eyes were fixed on a tiny smudge of green light shining dimly from above: the hoist-lift control button.

Finally, the ground levelled out and Ted stumbled forwards with a sob of relief. The lift was still there. He wrenched open the plastic scissor door, the ceiling bulb flickered on…

‘Stop!’

Ted froze.

‘Wait. Please, wait for me!’

The voice was close, too close to ignore. Taking a deep breath, the guard stepped away from the lift, out of the halo of warm light, and ventured back towards the edge of the crater.

‘Hello?’ he croaked through dry lips.

A figure stepped up from the pit and Ted felt a swell of relief. ‘Professor Thorn!’ He gestured back towards the lift. ‘Quickly. We need to get out of here!’

But the figure didn’t move. Professor Thorn’s face hovered in the void like a torn paper mask. She stared back at him with empty eyes and, in that moment, Ted knew he’d made a terrible mistake.

The growl came again – low and guttural – as something darker than night climbed out from the crater to stand beside its master.

Ted felt all the air leave his lungs in a long, whimpering breath. Every impulse screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t move; his whole body was rigid.

‘No, no, nooo…’ he moaned. ‘What – what is it?’

The Professor studied him for a moment, then tilted her head with a sudden, horrific knuckle-crack of bone.

‘Hungry!’ she hissed.

CHAPTER 4

Local Celebrities

‘Izzee dead?’

‘Dunno. Geyim a prod wi tha’ stick.’

Jac felt something sharp poke against his leg and he opened his eyes. As he did so, he heard a sudden rustle of movement nearby.

‘Whu… what?’

The world was blurry. He blinked until it came into focus and he found himself sprawled out across the floor. A camera – his camera – was lying a few inches from his face. He stared at it for a moment, looking at his own reflection in the lens. What was his camera doing here?

What was he doing here?

Confused, he started to sit up. This, it turned out, was a mistake. Everything hurt! It felt like he’d just been wrestling an octopus. A big octopus – with anger management issues.

Giving a soft moan, Jac leant back against the old stone ledge and ran a shaky hand over his face. He felt woozy, as if half his brain were still asleep, and there was a high-pitched ringing sound in his ears.

What just happened? he thought, rubbing fists against his eyes. He’d been sitting on the rock, trying to get a signal on his phone and then… Lightning!

He felt his mouth go dry as he suddenly remembered. Red light thundering across the sky towards him, crashing into his body – lifting him up into the air! He cast a slow, bewildered look around. Had that really just happened? Everything looked so normal.

And that was when he saw them. All but hidden amidst the wild froth of grass and weeds were two pairs of small, silver eyes.

They were watching him.

‘JAC!’

He turned with a jolt. Mrs Bailey, their next-door neighbour, was standing at the bottom of the hill. She raised an arm and Jac responded with a quick wave before looking back to the long grass.

The eyes had vanished.

But they’d been right there. He’d seen them… hadn’t he? Jac slumped back. Maybe it was just a trick of the light. Or maybe I’m going insane, he mused bleakly. First it’s magic lightning, and now I think the grass is watching me.

A wheezing rasp cut across his thoughts. Short and squat, Mrs Bailey stomped up the hill like a belligerent chest of drawers. She had a deep, ruddy complexion that spoke of a life outdoors and wore a bright pink cardigan over mud-spattered dungarees. A tangle of unruly grey hair was tucked inside a battered sunhat.

‘Y’alright, lad?’ she called up.

Good question… ‘Er, yeah,’ Jac stammered.

‘Really?’ She came to a halt a few feet down from him and paused for a moment, leaning on her stick to catch her breath. ‘Coz, yeh look like a bulldog chewin’ a nettle.’

In the short time they’d been living here, Mrs Bailey had quickly established her presence. She was fiercely friendly – or maybe just fierce, Jac wasn’t sure which – and spoke with the blunt eloquence that seemed common to all inhabitants of Woolmouth.

‘I’m fine,’ he replied, giving her a watery smile. ‘Honest.’

‘So, what were it?’

The smile faltered. ‘Pardon?’

Mrs Bailey fixed him with a piercing glare. ‘The light! I saw it out window, some sort o’ red flash. What were it?’

Jac stared back. She’d seen it too? So it was real! He opened his mouth, then quickly closed it again. What would he say? That it came up out of the trees? That it had snaked back and forth through the air before taking aim at him? That, somehow, it had seemed to be alive? She’d think he was mad.

The woman scowled. ‘You must’ve seen summat. The whole sky lit up. Made me drop me brew!’ She leant even further over the stick to study him. ‘You bin drinking?’

‘What? No!’

‘Don’t worry – we’ve all been there.’ She tapped the side of her nose conspiratorially. ‘I found half a bottle of rum in the recycling bin last week.’

Jac frowned. ‘I wasn’t…’

‘Weren’t even my bin.’

‘I wasn’t drinking. I was just…’ He cast about, looking for inspiration. ‘I was looking for my camera. Oh, look, there it is.’ With a deep breath, he grabbed the camera strap and clambered to his feet. As he rose, an odd shiver ran through his body. It wasn’t painful exactly, more like a crackle of electricity.

‘Not all yeh dropped.’

Jac looked up. With some difficulty, the old woman was bending to pick something else up from the long grass. He watched as she straightened and he felt a sudden thrill of recognition. Two silver eyes glinted in the sunlight. Except – no, not eyes. Coins.

‘Oh, that,’ he said, relaxing slightly. ‘One of the stallholders gave it to me.’ Jac peered at the knitted figure in Mrs Bailey’s hands and shook his head. ‘What um… is it?’

Mrs Bailey raised her eyebrows. ‘This? It’s a Hob, o’ course!’

Jac blinked. ‘Hob?’

‘Yeh can’t live long in Woolmouth without knowing about Hobs! Local celebrities, these are.’ Mrs Bailey wiggled the doll at him. ‘Little people. They live underground an’ only come out when it’s dark.’

‘Little people,’ Jac repeated. ‘So, like, from fairy tales?’

The woman frowned. ‘Did I say fairy tales? No, lad. Hobs are real.’

Another electric shiver bubbled through Jac’s veins as he thought back to those eyes, watching him from the grass.

‘Real?’ he croaked.

‘Oh, aye!’ said Mrs Bailey. ‘Everyone around here knows about Hobs. They’ve been in’t valley for donkey’s years. Steal yer biscuits if yeh not careful!’ She nodded towards the village. ‘There’s folk down there as leave gifts out fer ’em. Toys, clothes, books – you name it. Big Dave on Water Lane puts a bowl of milk on’t porch every night. Says the one time he didn’t, they came in an’ stole his custard creams.’

Seeing Jac’s expression, she grinned. ‘Ah know it’s daft, but it’s an old tradition an’ we like to keep it goin’. Besides, tourists love it. Here...’ She threw the knitted figure across and Jac caught it awkwardly with his free hand.

‘Mek sure an’ kip him safe. They’re good luck, them!’

The doll’s grumpy little face glared up at Jac through a wild mane of knitted hair. Was this what he’d seen in the grass? Had it just been the sun reflecting off those silver coins? It would make sense, except… there’d been two pairs of eyes. He was certain of it.

A distant siren wailed through the air and Mrs Bailey turned to squint across the valley. ‘Looks like a fire in Lowdale Wood,’ she murmured.

Following her gaze, Jac saw hazy swirls of smoke twisting out through the trees. A light breeze fluttered up the hill, bringing with it the faint smell of woodsmoke.

‘Probly summat to do with that big light in’t sky,’ Mrs Bailey said pointedly. ‘But then, you din’t see none o’ that, did you?’

Jac shrugged.

‘You’re about as much use as an inflatable dartboard.’

Jac smiled. ‘Sorry.’

The woman grunted. ‘Neyer mind. I’m fixin’ for me tea, anyway.’ She threw a final glance at him. ‘You should do the same, lad. Light or no light, you look right peaky to me.’

And, so saying, Mrs Bailey set off down the hill.

‘OK,’ Jac called after her. ‘Thanks!’

She raised a hand without looking back and Jac watched her lurch unsteadily towards her house, before lifting his gaze back towards Lowdale Wood.

The smoke was getting thicker.

He tracked his eyes down, following the distant foliage until he came to a gap in the tree line, just below the smouldering fires. It looked like some sort of hollow in the landscape. That was it. That was where the red light had come from.

Tomorrow, Jac thought, fixing the spot to memory. I’ll take a look after school.

He heard a wooden door slam; Mrs Bailey had just gone inside for her tea. The thought prodded at him and he suddenly realised how hungry he was. More than hungry, ravenous. Maybe she was right; maybe he just needed to eat.

He reached over to grab his bag and, in doing so, realised something else: the aches and pains he’d felt upon waking were gone. In fact, apart from that weird electric tingle, he felt fine. Great, in fact.

With a final, furtive peek toward the long grass, Jac stuffed the camera back into his bag and ran fast down the hill.

Very, very fast indeed.

CHAPTER 5

Doxy’s Farm

A strong wind shrieked across the valley that night. It chased through Woolmouth and up into Lowdale Woods, whipping the branches into a frantic midnight dance.

Just above the thrashing trees was Doxy’s farm, a ramshackle collection of low stone walls and sagging rooftops, huddled together against the blustering wind. Slate tiles rattled like scales across a dragon’s back and an old weathervane squealed loudly in protest.

At the side of the house, a porch light blinked on. It cast a warm glow across the cobbled courtyard. Moments later, the door opened and a portly, red-cheeked man peered into the storm.

‘Tilly?’

The old farmer’s voice was quickly snatched away by the wind. He gathered a thin dressing gown tight about his body and called again, louder this time. ‘Tilly! Here, girl!’

He waited a moment and then, with a sigh, stepped outside. His slippers offered scant insulation against the cold stone, and he felt the first prickle of rain as he trudged through the courtyard towards the sloping fields beyond.

‘Bloomin’ dog. Tilly!’

A shrill noise rose above the howling wind. Was that a bark? A whine? Exasperation turned to unease as the farmer pushed through the metal gate and out onto the grass. His eyes strained against the swirling darkness.

‘Come on, Tilly! Here, girl.’

A dark line of trees rose up to either side of the fields and the farmer gave a small shiver as he stepped into their thrashing shadows. As well as offering a view of the Woolmouth lights below, this small patch of land was home to his livestock. It wasn’t much these days: a flock of sheep, some cows, a few chickens and two horses called Porgy and Bess.

The stable was in the near corner, so he made for that first. He called again and this time there was a definite yap from somewhere ahead.

With a sigh of relief, he saw the familiar shape of his Border Collie hunched down in the grass.

‘Tilly! There you are.’ The dog ignored him, too busy gnawing at something propped between its paws.

‘What are you doing out here, you daft thing?’ A smile creased the farmer’s lips as he drew near. ‘What’s that you got? Have you—’

It was a bone.

The farmer stopped. The bone was fresh; he could see it glistening in the moonlight.

‘Where’d you get that?’

The dog looked up, her muzzle greasy with blood. Cursing, the farmer quickly strode the last few steps to the stable and peered inside.

Empty.

One hand still on the padbolt, he turned to scan the fields below. The animals were gone. All of them. He hissed out a long breath between clenched teeth. A sudden noise cut through the night air. Loud, jagged – wet. Like someone ripping a lettuce in half.

He squinted toward the tree line at the edge of the field. A scurry of clouds had covered the moon, but there was something there, just visible in the half-light. It looked like a small mound.

Without thinking, the farmer started down the field, his eyes fixed on the prominence. A soft haze seemed to be rising up from it – was that smoke? The clouds parted and a pall of moonlight flushed the shadows away. The mound glinted in the half-light. A low moan escaped the man’s lips.

Carcasses.

His animals; all of them. Slaughtered and gathered in a hot, steaming pile. He broke into a lolloping, stumble-footed trot. ‘No, no, no, no.’

He stopped when a dark, crooked shape emerged from the heap. It crouched atop the mutilated bodies for a moment, then reached down and pulled something loose. That wet, ripping sound came again. The farmer couldn’t help it; he cried out. The crooked thing shifted: it was looking at him.

For a moment, the farmer simply stared back, transfixed by the sheer, dreadful spectacle before him. Then, as if a switch had been flipped in his brain, he turned and fled.

Floundering back up the field, drawing desperate gasps of cold night air, the old man ran as if his life depended on it. Just before the metal gate, he slipped and fell, losing his slippers to the squelching mud. He pushed himself up, only for his hands to slip again, causing him to drop, face first, into the ooze.

Whimpering, he crawled through the muck on hands and knees until he reached the gate. He gripped the bars, using them to climb upright. There was something behind him. He could almost feel it reaching out for him, feel the cold breath on his neck…

With a cry of horror, the man threw the gate wide and charged, barefoot, through the courtyard to the open door. Only then did he turn, staring back with wide, frantic eyes, before slamming the door firmly shut.

Alone in the field, Tilly looked up from her prize and sniffed the air.

There was something approaching. Another animal. The sheepdog stood up, planting her paws on either side of the bone to guard it. She leant forward, hackles raised, and gave a low growl of warning.

After a few seconds, something in the darkness growled back.

Part 2

Friday

CHAPTER 6

Greenfields School

‘They’re dead – all of them!’ the girl said exuberantly.

She was riding in an electric wheelchair and her two friends, a boy and another girl, were huddled close as they followed the pavement to school.

The boy gave a knowing nod. ‘My dad says it were a fox got in.’

‘Yeah, but your dad’s a plank.’

‘Hey!’

‘So, what happened?’ the second girl quickly interrupted.

‘Dunno.’ The first girl pulled her chair to a halt beside the wall and leant on one of the arms. ‘But old Doxy stopped by our house this morning and he was in a right state! Reckons he’ll have to close the farm.’

‘My dad is not a plank—’ the boy began.

‘Coz all his animals were killed,’ the girl continued, ignoring him. ‘And, I mean all of ’em. Sheep, cows, horses, even the dog. And not just killed: ripped apart.’

‘Yeah, by foxes!’ said the boy. ‘My dad says—’

‘Your dad’s a plank and you’re a plank,’ the girl snapped. ‘And stop interrupting. I haven’t even got to the best bit yet.’

‘Ooh!’ The second girl leant in close. ‘Go on, then. What’s the best bit?’

The girl in the wheelchair paused for a moment, allowing the tension to build before lowering her voice to say, ‘There was no blood. They were drained!’

‘What?’

‘Oh, my God,’ said the boy. ‘You actually had me going there!’

‘Pack it in, I’m serious—’

‘Right. Killed by Dracula, were they?’ said the boy.

‘Yeah! Buffy the livestock slayer!’ added the second girl.

‘No, listen right…’

‘Wait,’ the second girl said, looking up. ‘Is that lad earwigging’?’

‘He is, too,’ said the boy. ‘Go on, nosy. Push off!’

They all turned to glare, and Jac felt his cheeks flush with heat as he hurried on through the school gates. But, once through, he couldn’t help pausing to glance back. Was that true? An entire farm slaughtered. How does that even happen?

And that wasn’t the only strange thing around here. The fires he’d seen yesterday were still smouldering across Lowdale Woods; he knew, because his dad had been called in to help divert traffic this morning. Then there were those eyes he’d seen in the tall grass, and that weird red light in the sky, and…

…And something happened to me.

It was still there, that restless energy. Like a constant, electric shiver in his veins.

‘Shift yerself, gormless!’ A group of year elevens pushed him aside and the grey reality of a Friday morning reasserted itself. Jac quickened his pace, keeping up with the chattering crowds that streamed towards the main doors.

Greenfields was a fairly modern school, all concrete and glass, sited about two miles up the valley from Woolmouth in the town of Farlock. Its classrooms were grouped in clusters, joined together by long, interconnecting corridors that ran all the way from the main entrance to the sports hall.

The reason for such an extended layout was completely lost on the pupils, who seemed to spend most of their breaktime walking to the next lesson. To Jac, it looked like a giant concrete snake, and he entered the main doors with a slight shudder of apprehension. Don’t be so stupid, he told himself. It’s just school – no one’s out to get you.

‘There he is!’

‘Get him!’

A large hand grabbed Jac’s shoulder, spinning him round.

‘Payback time, Town Mouse!’

Oh no! With everything else that had happened, he’d forgotten about the Butcher brothers. And now they huddled in close, forcing him back against a row of blue lockers. The fist in his stomach clenched.

‘Thought that were funny yesterday, didn’t you?’ growled Tyler.

Jac struggled to get free, but was quickly pushed back against the locker doors with a bang.

‘Let me go...’ he managed.

Baz sneered from behind Tyler’s shoulder. ‘You what?’ he frowned in mock confusion. ‘What’s he say?’

‘Dunno,’ said Daz. ‘Still can’t understand that accent.’

‘I think he said leave it aaart!’

‘Yeah! Up the apples and stairs!’

The two younger boys laughed until Tyler shot them a fierce look. ‘Remember yesterday,’ he said, turning back to Jac, ‘walking home soaking wet? Was that funny?’

He turned to place two, slab-like hands on either side of Jac’s head, and then leant in close. ‘You’re gonna pay for that, newbie,’ he spat, with a blast of bad breath. ‘And then you’re gonna do everything I tell you.’

‘Sure,’ Jac said, ducking nimbly beneath a thick arm. ‘I’ll start off by buying you a toothbrush.’ He strode away from the group, walking quickly down the corridor.

‘What’d you say?’

Jac kept walking, head down, eyes focused on the grey vinyl floor. Just walk away, he told himself. Don’t engage. Don’t look back. Don’t run.

He glanced up. The doors were close, less than ten metres. There were classrooms on the other side. Safety.

‘HEY!’

Don’t engage…

‘I didn’t say you could go yet.’

Don’t look back…

‘Last warning, Town Mouse.’

And don’t run.

WHAM!

The fist smashed into Jac’s right ear, knocking him sideways against the wall.

Hot pain blossomed across his face. He tried to turn, but someone shoved him hard and he sprawled back onto the floor. Something – either a fist or a foot – caught him in the stomach, leaving him gasping for breath as he rolled onto his side.

He could see them now, grinning like sharks as they closed in on him.

‘Hold him,’ hissed Tyler, glancing around to check for teachers. ‘Hold him down!’

As one of the brothers grabbed his legs, Jac saw other pupils closing in – but there was no help there, just excited faces, hungry for a glimpse of action. Phones up and ready, they formed a tight circle. A low chant broke out: ‘Fight! Fight! Fight!’

He felt an arm clamp down over his shoulders, pulling him back against the floor. He tried to shake it off, but it was too strong. The Butchers were too strong. He wouldn’t stand a chance against one of them, let alone all three.

Tyler loomed above him. ‘Lesson time, newbie.’

Jac glared up into the challenge of those cold eyes and felt the anger welling up inside him. He felt something else, too: an electric jolt of energy – the same, restless energy he’d felt all morning, only sharper, stronger. It was bubbling up through his whole body.

He clenched his hands into tight fists. Whatever this was, maybe he could use it. Drawing back his leg, he felt a fizz of power flood through his muscles like liquid fire. He kicked out and his foot connected with something – hard. There was a loud squeal and one of the brothers fell back into the crowd. The chanting stopped.

‘I said hold him!’

The arm across his shoulders tightened. Jac grabbed it, felt another jolt of strength and pulled. This time, the arm let go. There was a cry of pain from behind as Jac heaved himself up from the floor. He saw shocked faces as the crowd reared back. It was working, he was doing it! He was—

Tyler’s fist hit him square in the face, snapping his head back and sending another slash of pain across his nose. Jac staggered; he could feel his legs begin to buckle.

No! Don’t fall.

A thick hand grabbed his shirt. ‘You’re gonna wish you’d never come here!’ Tyler snarled, drawing back his fist again…

‘Teacher!’

…And, just like that, it was over.

Jac blinked away the pain in time to see the two younger Butcher brothers disappear into the throng. Tyler stayed a beat longer, pushing Jac back onto the floor.

‘You can’t hide behind teachers and daddy-cop forever,’ he said quietly. ‘You are dead, Town Mouse.’

And, like a bad dream, he was gone.

‘Alright, people, stand back. Back please!’ A stern-looking man was forcing his way through the corridor. Beside him, was a girl in a red coat – her finger pointing the way.

Jac scrambled up, grabbed his bag and pushed through the double doors into the next hallway. Without looking back, he slipped through a side door and away.

CHAPTER 7

Alone

The door closed behind him, leaving Jac alone in a silent stairwell. He followed it up to the next floor, turned and slumped onto the cold, concrete steps. He let his head fall back against the banister with a soft bump.

‘So, Jac,’ he muttered, ‘how was school today?’ Gently, he lifted one hand to his nose. A shudder of pain shot across his face, filling his eyes with tears. His fingers came away with blood on them. ‘Oh yeah, great. Thanks for asking.’

‘Are you talking to yourself?’

Jac turned with a start. There was a girl standing at the twist of the stairs below.

‘Because you sound like a loony,’ she added.

Jac recognised her; she was the one that had pointed him out to the teacher. She was pale, with cinnamon brown hair and green eyes. She wore a lumpy red duffle coat that was at least two sizes too big for her.

The girl studied him in silence for a moment, then slowly ascended, trailing her hand along the banister as she approached.

‘I saw what happened,’ she said.

Jac sniffed. His nose was dripping blood and a dull ache was spreading across his face. He was hurt and humiliated; all he wanted was to be left alone.

‘You do know that was Tyler Butcher. Why would you pick a fight with him?’ She stopped a couple of steps down and fixed him with a curious look, as if he was a jigsaw puzzle with a piece missing. ‘That’s just stupid.’

Jac glared back at her; the restless energy was crackling through his bones, making his whole body shake. ‘I didn’t pick a fight!’ he said through clenched teeth. ‘And I don’t need some snitch to go running to teacher for me.’

The girl’s eyes darkened. ‘I’m not a snitch, moron. I’m the reason you’re still breathing!’

Jac climbed to his feet; his legs were unsteady beneath him and he had to grab the rail for support.

The girl took another step. ‘What’s wrong? You look—’

‘Just mind your own business, will you?’

She jutted out her chin. ‘Whatever. I won’t bother next time.’

‘Fine!’

‘Fine!’

Jac pushed through the doors and stumbled into an empty corridor. Thankfully, the girl did not follow.

Still holding his dripping nose, Jac followed the hall until he found a boys’ toilet. He stepped inside, walked to a sink and studied himself in the mirror. His nose was swollen and there was blood on his shirt. He ran the tap and sloshed cold water over his face, then grabbed a handful of paper towels and tried to clean up his clothes as best he could.

Finally, he gave up and just stood there, staring at his reflection. He didn’t know how much more he could take. He hated this. It was bad enough being the new kid. The odd one out. But did he have to be on the Tyler Butcher hit list as well? He just wanted to fit in – be the same as everyone else.

But you’re not like everyone else. Not anymore.

The thought whispered in his ear, low, sly – and undeniable. The energy was everywhere, from his toes to his teeth, shivering through his body like some restless, impatient spirit.

Looking down, he saw his hand was shaking. He stretched out his fingers and willed them to be still. However, if anything, the shaking grew worse; his hand was almost vibrating.

‘What is wrong with me?’ he muttered, bringing his trembling hand closer. He could feel the energy rushing to his fingertips. Electric needles fluttered beneath his skin. Itching, scratching, straining to be released…

A low chime interrupted his thoughts and Jac looked up in dismay. That was the bell for assembly. He was supposed to be in the sports hall – which was on the other side of school.

Cursing, he threw the bloody wad in the bin and ran.

It took five long minutes of clattering stairs, wrong turns and deserted corridors before he found the entrance to the main hall, by which time he was very late. He sprinted across the gallery and pushed straight through the double doors.

To be fair to Jac, those doors had seemed much heavier yesterday. Maybe someone had oiled them overnight, or maybe they’d come loose. Whatever the reason, today they shot away from his hands and swung back into the walls with an almighty crash.

Jac froze.

More than eight hundred pupils filled the hall – and they were all turning in their seats to stare at him.

CHAPTER 8

Assembly

On the stage at the front of the hall, Mrs Flint, the headmistress, had stopped speaking. She peered at him over her glasses. ‘You!’ she snapped, her voice clear and sharp in the silent hall. ‘Are late.’

Jac felt a shiver flicker across his body. His hands twitched.

‘Well?’ Mrs Flint added. She clicked her fingers impatiently. ‘Move, boy! Come and sit down. Quickly.’

Hitching his bag up onto his shoulder, Jac stepped inside and walked across towards the chairs. Behind him, the twin doors swung shut with another loud bang, making him wince.

Reaching the aisle at the centre of the hall, he started down it hesitantly, looking left and right for a seat. The entire school watched as he walked, listening to his footsteps echo across the silent hall. Row after row, all full of unfamiliar faces staring back at him. He wiped his bloody nose with a sleeve.

‘Sit down,’ boomed the headmistress.

He nodded helplessly, still searching until – there – an empty place on the right! But as he approached, he saw the occupant of the next seat along; it was the girl from the corridor. She narrowed her eyes at him and deliberately moved her huge, red coat over onto the empty seat. Jac shot her an equally vicious look before hurrying past.

This was getting silly. There had to be somewhere to sit.

And so there was: right at the very front, directly under the glare of the headmistress. Jac quickly strode the last few steps and threw himself into the empty seat, pulling his bag with him.

But his bag had other ideas. It caught on his seat armrest and ripped open, spilling books, pens and pencils all over the polished wooden floor in a clatter of noise.

Jac stared in horror. No! Could this morning possibly get any worse?

Feeling his cheeks burn red with embarrassment, he fell to his knees and scrabbled for the fallen items. His shoes squeaked across the polished parquet floor. He was keenly aware, not only of Mrs Flint’s laser-like glare boring into the top of his head, but also of everyone else in the hall watching, waiting in agonising silence for him to finish.

Finally, after what felt like an hour, he threw a last book back into his ruined bag, climbed into the seat and stared furiously at his knees.

The silence continued.

Sweat prickled across his skin.

‘So…’ the headmistress said finally, her voice colder than ice water. ‘Are we all quite settled? May I continue?’

Jac didn’t move. He didn’t even breathe.

‘Wonderful. Now – as I was attempting to say – here at Greenfields, we have always endeavoured to make sure that this is a safe environment. Somewhere you can learn and grow without fear…’

It was over, she was moving on. He started to relax.

‘However,’ Mrs Flint added sharply. ‘As most of you will have heard, there was an incident at Doxy Farm last night in which, unfortunately, a number of animals were injured.’

Doxy Farm! Jac sat back up. That’s what those kids had been talking about by the school gates. Another surge of electric energy crackled through him and his legs jerked out straight. He frowned at them.

‘By all accounts, this was a particularly savage attack. One that has left Mr Doxy and his family in a state of very understandable agitation.’

The restless energy was growing stronger and Jac was finding it increasingly hard to stay in his seat. There was a loud pounding in his ears. Looking down, he saw his hands were beginning to shake again…

‘This isn’t just a problem for the farmer,’ Mrs Flint continued. ‘Frankly, it’s rather worrying for all of us. The police are not yet certain what they’re dealing with – it could be a wild dog, maybe even a wolf. But whatever’s responsible for this attack, it’s obviously dangerous.’

Jac lurched forward in his seat as another jolt spasmed through him. He saw the boy next to him glance across. What is wrong with me? he thought, feeling ready to scream. Looking down, he saw something blue and white on the floor – his science workbook.

‘So,’ Mrs Flint’s voice sounded very distant now, ‘until this thing is caught, you – all of you – need to start practising vigilance and care.’

Jac kept his gaze fixed on the book as blood roared in his ears. He blinked and tried to focus on the cover. Key Stage Three Science. His vision shifted. The words swam. He blinked again.

‘—especially after dark. Does everyone understand? This is extremely serious.’

Slowly, Jac reached out a hand. Pick up the book, he thought, desperately. You can do that. It’s easy. But his arms were rigid, his teeth were clenched. His hand began to vibrate as he stretched out…

‘—anywhere outside of school.’

Almost there, twitching fingers brushed the book cover…

‘Do not go out alone and do not venture into isolated areas. Even in groups. Because, and I mean this, if you do—’

BANG!

Everyone in the hall froze.

The shocked silence that followed was disturbed only by the soft crackle of burning paper, as hundreds of tiny, charred flakes swirled gently down to the floor.

Jac blinked. It was his book.

His science workbook had just exploded.

CHAPTER 9

Trouble

The headmistress glared at the school caretaker over long, steepled fingers.

‘Well?’ she said, sharply.

‘Nothing.’

One thin eyebrow rose in surprise. ‘Nothing?’ she echoed.

The man shrugged. ‘There’s a lot of mess, a lot of shredded paper and a lot of cleaning up to do, but no fireworks have been let off in the hall today, and that’s a fact.’

‘You’re certain?’

‘Course I’m certain!’ he bristled. ‘I’ve cleaned up enough accidents to know when someone’s been chucking fireworks about. There’d be plastic casing everywhere, for a start. And you can smell it. Stinks the place out something rotten does a firework. I remember this one year, just before Bonfire night—’

‘Yes, thanks Clifford.’

‘Right.’

Mrs Flint sighed as the caretaker trudged out of her office, and then turned back towards the other occupant of the room.

‘So then,’ she said, ‘what am I supposed to believe? That this was some freak occurrence?’

Jac’s throat felt very dry. He glanced towards the large bottle of water that stood, unopened, beside two glasses and felt a sharp stab of thirst. Swallowing, he shook his head.

‘I don’t—’

‘You don’t know,’ Mrs Flint interrupted. ‘Yes, you’ve said that. In fact, you’ve been saying that for the past thirty minutes and, frankly, I don’t believe you. Something happened to your book and it was not an act of God.’ She paused. ‘Unfortunately, I don’t have any proof, yet, so there’s not much I can do, is there?’

She sat back, studying him.

Unsure what else to do, Jac attempted to arrange his face into a look of pure-eyed innocence. As the silence dragged out, he felt a single trickle of sweat run down his cheek.

Finally, Mrs Flint spoke. ‘I know you’re new to this school, Jenkins,’ she said quietly, ‘so let me be very clear. There are two things you need to understand about me. One: I will find out what happened here today. And two,’ she paused, fixing him with a steely gaze. ‘I shall be keeping a very close eye on you from now on. Do you understand?’

He nodded.

‘Good. Now get out.’

***

Jac’s day did not improve.

The entire school had witnessed the dramatic demise of his science text book and they all had an opinion on the matter. He spent breaktimes frantically trying to escape classmates who either wanted to yell at him, high-five him, or both. And the lessons were even worse; he was surrounded by whispered conversations and furtive glances. Even the teachers were staring; it was like sitting in a very bright spotlight.

By the end of the day, he was thoroughly fed up and, when the bell rang, he almost cried out with joy. Throwing books into his ripped bag, he dashed from the classroom and pushed eagerly through the thronging halls towards the main exit.

Halfway there, he stopped. A nasty thought had struck him: the Butcher brothers. They’d been waiting for him this morning – would they be waiting again now?

Stupid question. Of course they would.

He turned and cut off down an adjacent corridor. Despite the time, it was still crowded and he had to work his way around chattering groups of people. As he passed a huddle of girls, he heard a sudden flurry of excited whispers and barely stifled giggling. One of them shouted something after him and he saw more faces turn to stare.

Enough.

He stalked over to a frosted glass fire door in the wall and used both hands to slam down the push bar. The door opened easily and he hastened through, stepping out into a small car park. The door closed behind him with a soft click.

Jac blew out his cheeks and let out a long sigh of relief. He’d done it! He’d made it through the day – and it was a Friday, which meant no school for two entire, blissful days. No suspicious looks, no furtive whispers and, best of all, no Butcher brothers…

‘Is that him?’

Jac froze. The voice was close, very close. It was also horribly familiar. Slowly, he took a step to the right and peered around the edge of the nearest car.

Tyler, Baz and Daz were standing about twelve feet away. He hadn’t seen them at first, because they were hunkered down beside a low wall. Fortunately, they hadn’t seen him, either: they were all facing towards the main forecourt leading out from school. It was full of children, chattering and laughing as they thronged towards the gates.

One of the brothers – Jac couldn’t tell if it was Baz or Daz – shook his head.

‘Nah. Too tall.’

‘Well, keep ’em peeled,’ Tyler grunted. ‘He’s got to come out soon. And when he does…’ Instead of finishing the sentence, he punched a heavy fist into his palm.

Very, very carefully, Jac stepped back towards the door. He held his breath as he retreated, knowing what dire consequences would follow if he made even the smallest sound. Eyes fixed on the three crouching figures, he put a hand out behind him, groping for the handle. Unable to find it, he turned to look.

His stomach lurched: there was no handle. Of course there wasn’t, because this was a fire door. He felt his heart sink as the realisation dawned. There was no way back inside: he was trapped.

The three boys hadn’t moved. However, even as he glanced over, one of them – Daz – turned his head. Jac stepped aside and ducked down behind a red Mini. Had he been seen? The strange, restless energy bubbled up inside him and he put a hand out to steady himself.

It happened as soon as his fingers touched the car: a jolt of power that flashed straight through his fingertips and into the metal. There was a faint plink from somewhere inside the vehicle, and the blaring sound of a car alarm exploded across the concourse.

Jac snatched his hand back in horror. Flashing amber lights cast twin reflections in his widening eyes as he scooted back against the locked fire door. He looked around for an escape, but it was too late; the sound of approaching footsteps clattered over the hooting alarm. The Butcher brothers were coming – and he was a sitting duck.

CHAPTER 10

Her!

The door behind him opened so quickly that Jac fell backwards and ended up splayed across the floor. Before he could recover, a hand had grabbed his collar, pulling him further inside. Needing no encouragement, he scrabbled his legs through the door and kicked it shut after him.

Clambering quickly to his feet, he turned, ready to thank his saviour. But the words died on his lips. It was her. The girl in the long red coat. The girl who had snitched to a teacher. The girl who had made him walk to the very front of assembly. Her!

He opened his mouth to speak, but she shook her head and indicated to something over his shoulder. Glancing back, he saw the distorted outlines of three, large figures just outside the frosted glass. Thankfully, they seemed to be focused on the red Mini, which was still merrily honking away.

Beside him, the girl raised her hand. She was holding a small, black fob key, which she pressed once. The car alarm blinked off, pitching them all into a sudden, still silence.

Jac stared, very aware of how visible he must be. The silhouetted figures were so close – it seemed inevitable that they would turn and see him. He braced himself for the cry of recognition. But, instead, there was a low grumble of voices as they drifted away out of sight.

He waited until he was sure they were gone, before letting out a long, shaky breath.

‘Thanks,’ he croaked. ‘That was—’

‘Are you STUPID or WHAT?’

Her anger caught him by surprise. ‘What?’

The girl turned on him. ‘Really? Coz I’d have said stupid. Let me try this one more time.’ She jabbed a finger at the door. ‘That was Tyler Butcher.’

Jac frowned. ‘Yeah, I—’

‘You don’t pick a fight with Tyler Butcher.’

‘I wasn’t—’

‘And you definitely don’t do it twice in the same day!’

‘OK, OK,’ he said, holding up his hands. ‘I get the picture.’

‘Good! Because this is the absolute last time I rescue you from the Butchers.’

‘Fair enough,’ Jac managed. ‘But – seriously. Thanks. I owe you.’

Ignoring him, the girl pushed past to cup her hands against the frosted glass. ‘Doesn’t look like they’re going anywhere soon.’ She turned back to fix him with an angry glare. ‘Which means I’m stuck in here.’

Jac shook his head. ‘Why are you stuck? It’s me they’re after.’

The girl gave an impatient sigh. ‘Don’t you get it? Tyler’s a bully. He bullies people. That’s his thing, OK?’ She looked away. ‘You’re nothing special, just flavour of the month.’

Something in her voice had changed, and Jac quickly made the connection. ‘Tyler’s gone after you, too,’ he said.

‘Duh!’ The girl slumped against the wall and slowly slid down until she was sitting on the floor. ‘He goes after anyone different,’ she muttered, picking at the thread on one of her coat sleeves.

The building was quiet now, and Jac realised that they were alone in the corridor. Everyone else must have already gone home.

‘Why are you down here, anyway?’ he asked.

The girl shrugged. ‘My mum teaches art. That’s her car you set off.’ Another sour look. ‘It’s also where my phone is.’

‘Right,’ Jac mumbled. ‘Sorry.’

With a sigh, he hunkered down on the opposite side of the corridor and stared at his hands. At least they weren’t shaking anymore.

‘What’s your story, anyway?’ the girl asked.

He looked up, surprised to find the girl still watching him. ‘What d’you mean?’

She raised her chin in a brief gesture. ‘I’ve seen you. Sitting away from everyone else in lessons. Eating on your own like a hermit. You don’t talk to anyone. You don’t join in. It’s pretty obvious you don’t want to make any friends here.’

Jac took a breath, ready to protest, but no words came. He realised that she was absolutely right – and the fist inside his chest gave another, nasty twist.

‘But today?’ she continued. ‘Complete one-eighty. Suddenly you’re an attention-seeking missile! Getting into fights, blowing up the sports hall, setting off car alarms – how did you do that, anyway?’

Jac flashed back to Mrs Flint’s office and rubbed a hand over his face. ‘I don’t know,’ he said dejectedly. ‘The book just—’

‘No, I don’t mean the book. I mean the car.’ The girl nodded toward the car park. ‘That alarm hasn’t worked in years. Mum keeps saying she’ll get it fixed, but she hasn’t. I know she hasn’t. So, how did you set it off?’

‘Oh. That.’ Jac let his head fall back against the wall. ‘Doesn’t matter.’

The girl frowned at him. ‘What d’you mean? Why not?’

‘Just – trust me,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘You wouldn’t believe it.’

‘Oh really?’ The girl raised her eyebrows and sat up straight. ‘Well, now you’ve got to tell me.’

Jac puffed out his cheeks. OK, he thought. Why not?

‘Fine.’ He leant forwards and took a deep breath. ‘Yesterday afternoon, just after school, I got struck by a bolt of red lightning.’

‘Red… what?’

‘Lightning. Bright red. Came up from the ground, shot across the sky and hit me.’

‘Are you…’

‘When I woke up this morning, I felt different. Like, weird different. And now, every time I get stressed or nervous, my hands start shaking and some power – like a charge of electricity – shoots out through my fingers.’ He looked up. ‘OK? That’s what happened to my book. That’s what happened to your mum’s car.’

For a long time, the girl didn’t move, but simply looked back at him. Finally, she narrowed her eyes. ‘You’re right,’ she said, twitching her lips into a faint smile. ‘I don’t believe you.’

‘Of course you don’t, because it’s crazy! But look…’ Jac rooted inside his bag until he found his old SLR camera. He flicked it on, brought up his last photo and then shuffled across to the girl’s side of the corridor. ‘What about this?’ he said, shoving the camera under her nose.

She squinted down at the display. ‘What about it? That’s just a blurry shot of Haunted Hollow.’

‘That’s the lightning.’

‘No. That’s Haunted Hollow.’

‘No. That’s—’ He broke off with a frown. ‘What’s Haunted Hollow?’

The girl pointed at the screen. ‘That is, there, just below the weird reflection.’

‘The lightning.’

‘Uh-huh. Well, just below your lightning is a gap in the trees, see it?’

Jac nodded.

‘That’s Haunted Hollow. It’s an old quarry. Really creepy place. Used to be deserted until some company moved in a few months back.’

‘Huh.’ Jac turned the camera back and stared at the picture.

‘You are so weird,’ the girl said, watching him. ‘What’s your name, anyway?’

‘Jac,’ he said, looking up. ‘What’s yours?’

‘Helen.’

‘Hi, Helen! So, how do I get to Haunted Hollow?’

CHAPTER 11

Flight 714

The sleek Gulfstream G650 private jet was almost ready for takeoff. The sumptuous interior, which included a home cinema system and wood-panelled bar, had seating enough for eight executive passengers. Today, however, it would carry only one: a Professor, en route to Paris.

Justin Clark stood in the crew galley, peering out from behind a Rosewood veneer partition wall. He was watching a woman, reclined in one of the white, leather seats. She was very thin, with short, grey hair and an intelligent face. She was also, as far as he could tell, asleep.

Justin leant back. He had been working as a corporate flight attendant for almost six years now. It was a hard job, but well paid and he was good at it. He knew exactly what he should be doing right now and it was definitely not this.

What he should be doing was playing the perfect host. Putting his passenger at her ease, making light conversation, talking through the menu, fixing a coffee, or maybe even a cheeky pre-flight cocktail. Instead, he was here, hiding in the galley, refolding cotton napkins for the fifth time in a row.

It wasn’t her manner, or the way she’d cut across his friendly meet-and-greet with a terse grunt – working with high-end clients meant that he was used to the occasional rude passenger. No, it was the way she moved. It wasn’t natural.

It was too abrupt, too brittle. Like watching a bird. As she stepped aboard, she’d flickered rapidly towards him, bones crackling, coat billowing. And her eyes had been fixed on his with a look of such cold, reptilian vehemence that it actually made him step back. It had felt like being slapped.

He put the napkin down and risked another peek. She hadn’t moved. Come on, he told himself, this is ridiculous.

With a deep breath, Justin straightened up and stepped through into the main cabin. He just needed to check that she was comfortable – that was all. Then, with any luck, she’d sleep for the rest of the journey.

Forcing a smile, he made his way stiffly down the plane towards her chair. ‘Good evening, Professor. How are we? Everything OK for you?’

No response. Not even a twitch.

He lowered his voice to a whisper. ‘Are we having a power nap?’

Nothing.

With a relieved sigh, he started to turn, but then caught sight of a tan strap hanging down below her armrest. The seatbelt was undone. He paused for a moment, biting his lip. Every instinct told him to walk away, but he knew that wasn’t an option. Passenger safety was his responsibility, no matter what. Or who.

He knelt down, took hold of the hanging strap and, very gently, pulled it up and over the still figure. The clasp was on the window side, just inside the chair. A cold prickle fluttered across his skin as he leant in close.

As soon as the buckle clicked into place, he stood up, absurdly relieved to see that the woman’s eyes were still closed. Looking across, he noticed a small, silver case on the floor beside her. That should be secured for takeoff. With a small grunt, he hefted the case up and over her lap.

CLICK.

His breath hitched and he jolted upright… but the passenger hadn’t moved.

Glancing down, he saw that one of the clasps on the case had come undone: it was unlocked. A glimmer of light made him blink; there was something inside. Something bright.

Carefully, Justin turned to place the silver case onto a polished wooden table that swept out from the curved wall. The other clasp released with a pop and, taking the lid in both hands, he slowly lifted it open. Dazzling bright light spilled out, making him gasp. It was warm, like sunlight, and there, nestled amongst thick foam padding—

‘What are you doing?’

Justin almost screamed out loud. The lid slammed shut and he spun to see Professor Thorn. She was directly behind him, her dark eyes fixed on the silver case.

‘I was just… this, this needs to be—’

‘Curiosity splattered the cat into lot and lots of little… gooey... pieces.’ The woman’s head lifted with a sudden crack of bone. ‘Did you know that?’

‘I… I was—’

‘My property.’

With shaking hands, Justin lifted the case and offered it to her. However, the woman stayed exactly where she was, unmoving, eyes fixed on his. Justin felt a trickle of sweat run down his neck.

Quite suddenly, she jolted forwards. Justin cried out and recoiled, almost buckling back across the table. Her face was obscenely close to his own, so close that he could taste her breath at the back of his throat.

A clicking sound made him glance down. Her fingers were slowly embracing the edges of the case. They looked like long, pale, spider legs.

BING.

‘Good evening, Professor Thorn, this is your captain speaking. Welcome onboard flight 714 to Paris. I’ve just been cleared for takeoff, so please fasten your seatbelt. I’ll be back to you with flight times once we’re up in the air. Until then, I’ll leave you in Justin’s capable hands. Sit back, relax and enjoy the flight.’

The intercom snapped off. Professor Thorn hadn’t moved. Her face was inches away from Justin’s. He could see a dark streak of matt lipstick bleeding into the fine lines around her mouth. There was dust in her hair.

‘Please,’ he whispered, ‘don’t—’

‘Is there a lavatory on this plane?’

The young attendant blinked several times as his brain tried to process the question.

‘I… yes. Yes, there’s—’

‘Go and stand in it.’ Thorn turned abruptly and moved back to her seat. ‘I don’t want to see you again.’

Justin stared at her a moment longer, then stumbled quickly up the aisle. Moments later, a red sign blinked on: WC Engaged.

The jet shuddered slightly as it taxied onto a runway. With a deep roar, the Rolls-Royce engines powered up to full throttle and the pilot lifted the plane effortlessly into the air. Thorn watched through her window as the ground banked away below. The daylight was beginning to fade, but the towns and villages were still clearly visible, cosy lights twinkling warmly from the distant houses.

Soon, those lights would be snuffed out for good.

Soon, the creatures would be strong enough to hunt, and they would spread out across this small island like a dark shadow, devouring every living thing until it was nothing more than a dead rock. And then this poor, ignorant little world would tremble, because it would know, at last, what waits in the darkness.

The silver jet sliced through the sky like a razor in the wind.

CHAPTER 12

Haunted Hollow

Security lamps were flickering to life along the wire fencing. They cast cold light down onto bold, red lettering:

RESTRICTED SITE.

ABSOLUTELY NO UNAUTHORISED PERSONNEL BEYOND THIS POINT.

ALL trespassers will be DETAINED INDEFINITELY.

Thorn Inc.

Jac let his bike coast to a halt and stared up at the sign. His eyes lingered on the third sentence. Detained indefinitely? That was pretty serious wording for an old quarry site. Frowning, he dropped his bike down on the grass verge and glanced around.

There were no cars on this lonely stretch of road. The only sound was the soft creak of branches swaying in the early evening breeze. They framed a sky that was still aglow with daylight – and yet here, in the woods, it already felt like night had fallen.

Haunted Hollow was certainly living up to its name.

Cautiously, he crept forwards. The site entrance was just ahead: he could see an automatic barrier and, off to one side, a small, well-lit guard hut. He scooted over, and squatted down beside a window, slowly raising his head to peek inside. There was a chair, some cabinets, a table with an open carton of orange juice – but no guard.

Jac let out a long breath. He wasn’t sure if this was good or bad. Maybe there was no one here because they were already on site? Was he about to walk straight into a security patrol? He shook his head. Stop overthinking. Just go!

With one final glance around, he ducked under the barrier and onto an old, tarmac track that led past the hut and into the woods. Giant trees formed a crooked tunnel over the trail, and the shadows grew deep as he followed it through. He flicked on his phone torch, but the tiny light provided meagre illumination.

The track led through to the top of a narrow gorge, where it abruptly sloped down, cutting through the hillside. He could see a line of parked cars near the bottom.

Just as he was about to continue, there came a rustle of leaves from somewhere beside the path. Swinging the phone around, he leant forwards and peered into dense foliage. Thick trunks rose through a dark froth of ferns and heather, their mottled bark bleached white in the pale beam.

‘Hello?’ His voice sounded strangely muted, and the only reply was the soft moan of the wind, drifting through clawed branches.

After a few seconds, Jac lowered the torch. Annoyed at himself for being so jumpy, he turned and walked away, stoically resisting the temptation to look back over one shoulder.

As he descended, two great banks of rock loomed up on either side, throwing a deep curtain of shadow across the track. Walking into that shadow was like walking into a fridge and he paused to fasten his coat. But, as he reached for the zip, a loud scurry of pebbles rattled down the track behind him.

Jac spun, heart pounding. That wasn’t just the wind; something was following him!

Aiming the faint beam back up the hill, he saw movement at the top – some sort of large shape. A flutter of fear ran through his body and, with it, energy. Before he could react, the energy had crackled across his fingers into his phone. There was a dull pop and the torch went out.

The breath caught in Jac’s throat and he took a faltering step back. Trying very hard not to panic, he widened his eyes, willing them to adapt to the fading light. There! A flash of colour. It was coming down the track towards him. It was red. It was—

‘Well, this is pleasant,’ called a familiar voice. ‘Not at all creepy or terrifying.’

It was Helen.

‘Oh!’ Jac croaked as a wave of relief ran through him. ‘It’s you.’ He cleared his throat. ‘I mean… yeah. Hi, I thought that was you.’

‘Well, I had to come, didn’t I?’ Helen said, hands deep in her oversized coat pockets as she drew near. ‘I couldn’t miss out on a chance to explore Haunted Hollow! Besides, I wanted to see that weird lightning you kept gibbering on about.’

Jac’s heart was still hammering against his chest. Taking a deep breath, he tried to regain his composure. ‘Yeah sure, OK. If you want to tag along, that’s cool with—’

A sudden scream from the darkness made him spin so fast he dropped his mobile.

Behind him, Helen giggled. ‘Relax,’ she laughed. ‘It’s just a fox.’

‘That was a fox?’

‘Wow, you really are a city boy.’

Jac felt his ears tingle with embarrassment as he reached for the fallen phone.

‘Come on,’ Helen continued, setting off. ‘It’s obviously way too spooky under all these trees.’ She paused after a few steps, glancing back with narrowed eyes. ‘As long as you don’t mind me tagging along, that is?’

‘Yeah, yeah.’ Pocketing the mobile, Jac ran to catch up with her and they followed the trail down together.

‘So, I’m guessing there weren’t many foxes in London?’

‘Actually, I think there were,’ Jac replied, stepping over a wide pothole in the track. ‘I just never heard them scream before.’

Helen smiled. ‘What was it like?’

‘Huh?’

‘The Big City.’

He glanced over in surprise. ‘You’ve never been?’

She shrugged. ‘Once, when I was a kid. But I don’t really remember.’

‘Oh. Well, it’s just – London, you know. Lots of people, lots of smells, lots of noise. Chaos and concrete, and I was part of it. We lived in a block of flats opposite the park. I used to meet my mates there before school. And Brick Lane market. Heard of it?’

Helen shook her head.

‘It was just up the road. It’s amazing. I used to go with my mum so we could look at all the graffiti. And sometimes we’d catch the tube to Piccadilly Circus, just so we could be there. Right in the middle of the city. Just… her and me.’

‘Sounds like you miss it.’

Jac looked away. ‘Yeah,’ he said softly.

‘We used to live in Yorkshire, up by the coast.’

He looked back in surprise. ‘Really?’

‘Yes really.’ Helen arched an eyebrow. ‘You’re not the only kid to ever move house, you know.’ She cracked another smile, but it quickly faded. ‘I do miss it, though. I miss the sea.’

‘Why’d you move?’

This time, it was Helen that looked away. ‘My parents split up a couple of years ago. Mum couldn’t afford the house on her own, so she moved us down here, into Nan’s old house. There’s my sister as well, so we’re pretty cramped, but it’s OK. Or, it was until the Butcher brothers started sniffing around. They follow after me at break, saying stuff about my mum, calling me names.’

Jac scowled. ‘That sucks.’

‘Yeah. I think Penniless Parker is their latest masterpiece.’ She shook her head. ‘Ugh, anyway. Drama. What about you? Why did you move away from London?’

Jac shrugged. ‘My dad. He applied for transfer out of the Met a few months back. Now he’s the new Sergeant at Farlock Constabulary and I get to live…’ Jac gestured expansively to their eerie surroundings, ‘Here.’

Helen cocked her head to one side. ‘Poor you!’

He grinned at her. ‘I know, right?’

‘What about your mum?’

The smile froze on Jac’s lips. A flare of pain – actual pain – shot through his heart. An internal spasm that was at once unexpected and horribly familiar. It was like punching a bruise.

‘She… didn’t come,’ he said.

‘Oh, right. Wh—’

‘Looks like we’re here. Come on.’

He trotted quickly ahead, leaving Helen standing alone beside the parked cars. After a pause, she followed after him.

The track levelled out onto the overgrown expanse of an old, disused quarry. It was an uneven plane of flat rock and dry mud, surrounded by dark, looming limestone walls. A sad cluster of mildewed portable cabins stood to one side, cracked windows reflecting multiple figures as Jac crept past.

The ground was criss-crossed with fossilised tyre marks and strewn with piles of stone and rubble. Coming to a halt, Jac quickly wiped his eyes with the sleeve of his jumper and looked around. There was no indication of life at all.

‘So much for sneaking about,’ Helen said, drawing alongside. She glanced across when he didn’t reply. ‘Maybe you got the wrong place?’

‘Maybe.’ He looked down and kicked at the floor. ‘Doesn’t look like anyone’s been here in years. Sorry, I guess this was a waste of time.’

‘It’s weird, though.’ Helen was looking back up to the track. ‘Why are there so many parked cars?’

Jac turned to look, but as he did he caught sight of something else. To their left, partially hidden behind a jagged outcrop, was a large orange box. It was attached to a vertical gantry that cut down into the rock.

Together, they ran towards the small structure. At the front was a narrow scissor door set with two oval windows and, inside, Jac saw a panel set with three buttons.

‘I think it’s a lift,’ he said, peering through the dusty window. ‘Must go below the quarry. I bet everyone’s down there!’

Jac turned to see that Helen had stopped a few yards away.

‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

She was crouched at the edge of a large tarpaulin sheet that had been spread out across the ground. It was held in place by a number of small rocks around the edge.

‘Wait a sec.’ She pulled an edge up and peered beneath. ‘There’s something under here – like a crater or something.’ She leant forwards, feeling with her hands. ‘It’s deep. Feels like – oh!’ She slumped forward into the tarpaulin.

‘You OK?’

‘Yeah, but the ground’s really soft, like it’s – OH!’

Jac started to move, but it all happened too quickly. There was a whoosh of plastic as Helen fell through the tarpaulin. The sheet quickly slithered after her, disappearing into a large, round hole that had been concealed beneath.

CHAPTER 13

Falling

Jac threw himself forward, managing to grab one corner of the tarpaulin before it disappeared completely. Twisting his hand, he wrapped the plastic around his wrist as it snapped taut. He cried out in shock as his body was yanked through the dirt and over the edge of the hole.

Desperately, Jac scrabbled at the ground with his free hand, managing to hook his fingers into a shallow ridge. He felt himself twist around with the momentum, his legs and lower body slipping sickeningly into the void, until he was hanging over the ledge.

His right shoulder screamed in pain. He could feel the jagged rock ledge biting painfully into his armpit as the weight of the tarpaulin sheet threatened to pull him into the darkness. Below him, a smudge of red swung into view. With it, a pale face and a pair of very frightened green eyes.

‘Don’t let go!’ Helen gasped.

Jac opened his mouth to reply, but before he could speak, something tore. The tarpaulin went suddenly, horribly, slack.

‘NO!’

There was a deep thud.

‘Helen!’ he called desperately. ‘HELEN!’

Nothing.

What do I do! What—

‘Ow.’

‘Helen! Are you alright?’

‘Ow.’

‘Where are you?’

There was a groan and something rustled just below him.

‘I’m here. I landed on something.’

‘Are you OK?‘

‘I’m fine. Let go – I’m right beneath you.’

‘Let go?’ Jac squinted into the darkness. ‘Well, that doesn’t sound like a very good idea!’

‘It’s fine. Trust me – let go.’

She sounded close, but Jac couldn’t see a thing. Then again, he was so far over the ledge it was unlikely he’d be able to climb out, so there really wasn’t much of a choice. He closed his eyes and let go of the ridge.

There was a second thud.

‘Ow!’

‘Told you.’

‘Ow!’ Jac stood up painfully. ‘You said it was… that really hurt!’

‘It’s metal, I think.’ Helen’s voice floated out from the darkness beside him. ‘We landed on top of something big.’

‘On top?’

‘Yeah, feel with your hands. It curves down.’

Jac crouched and brushed his fingers across the floor. She was right. The ground sloped smoothly away. However, when he moved his hands further down, he found something else: a series of tiny shallow grooves. There were lots of them, running across the metal surface in thin patterns. And, as he touched them, he felt something change.

‘Whoa!’ Helen gasped. ‘What did you do?’

Jac stood up and looked around in amazement. The grooves he had felt were symbols – strange, intricate symbols – and they were flickering to life beneath his fingers. One by one, they lit up until there were hundreds of them, tumbling away in a delicate neon inscription.

The walls of the cavern became visible in the distance, and Jac and Helen could just make out the outline of a crater, far below. Whatever it was that they’d landed on was still half-buried in the rock – and it was huge.

Jac flinched back from the edge. ‘We are really high! How do we get off this thing?’

Helen frowned. ‘Hang on, I think something’s—’

A high-pitched whine cut her off. The floor jolted beneath them. There was a muffled pop, like a balloon bursting…

And both children vanished.

CHAPTER 14

Incident Report

‘Jac? You OK?’

Wes rested one hand on the banister as he pulled a coat on over his uniform. ‘Work called,’ he added. ‘I’ve got to pop out for half an hour. Mrs Bailey’s here if you need anything.’

There was no reply.

‘Talk to myself.’

‘Teenagers!’ Mrs Bailey called from the kitchen. ‘Probably asleep.’

Wes grimaced. ‘He better not be. I told him to get that room unpacked.’ Walking through, he found the old woman rooting through cupboards.

‘You OK?’ he asked.

‘Where’s the tea?’

Wes pointed at a foil packet beside the kettle. ‘Just there.’

‘That’s bags,’ she said, dismissively. ‘Where’s the tea?’

‘Um.’ Wes lowered his arm. ‘I don’t think I’ve…’

Mrs Bailey fixed him with a hard look. ‘No proper tea. Right.’

‘Sorry.’ He grabbed his car keys from the table. ‘I’ll make sure to pick some up tomorrow. Thanks so much for this.’

‘Go on,’ Mrs Bailey said, grimly picking up a teabag between finger and thumb. ‘Off with you.’

‘I won’t be long!’

Wes closed the door behind him and unclipped his radio.

‘Sandy?’ he said, walking towards the patrol car. ‘It’s Wes. I’m just leaving now. What’s up?’

‘Had another call from Sam Baxter,’ the radio squawked. ‘He’s got the bungalow on Pottle Lane. Says something happened to his van last night. He’s worried it might’ve been – you know what…’

Climbing into the car, Wes grinned. ‘Of course. What are we on now – escaped lion?’

‘You never know, Sarge,’ came the reply. ‘Could be Bigfoot!’

Wes laughed. ‘Glad I’ve got my truncheon, then!’

Still smiling, he put the car into gear, and headed down into the village.

CHAPTER 15

Inside The Primary Artefact

‘What…’ Helen’s voice was a ragged tremor. ‘What just… happened?’

Jac didn’t reply. He just shook his head. His whole body felt rigid with shock.

‘We were outside,’ Helen whispered. ‘And now we’re inside.’

‘I know.’

‘How…?’

‘I don’t know.’

They were standing in a very small recess – so small, that they both had to crouch down in order to fit. It arched over them toward a narrow opening, which was screened by a dirt-stained glass panel. There was some sort of large hall on the other side, but the glass was too thick with grime to see through properly.

Taking a small step forwards, Jac reached out with his hand. But, before he could wipe it clear, the panel juddered open with a billow of dust.

They both stood very still, staring wide-eyed at the view beyond.

‘No way…’ Helen breathed.

Just for a moment, Jac thought they were back in the woods. A huge, dark chamber swept out before them. It was almost as wide as a football pitch and perfectly round. Glowing, domed pods rose out of the shadows and slender, glass pillars grew up through the floor like crystal tree trunks. There were even delicate cables that looped, vine-like, between the pillars.

Beside him, Helen swallowed. ‘Is this… Is this what we landed on?’

Jac nodded slowly. ‘I think so.’

‘It looks… bigger.’

Trance-like, they stepped out of the recess. Everything was tilted, presumably because of the angle that the structure was buried in the rock, and they had to walk at a slight lean. The floor was wreathed in a thin, swirling mist that bloomed about their feet as they crept forwards.

There was some sort of opening in the centre of the chamber – a massive opening. The floor curved around it, following the shadowed walls to form a wide, donut-shaped balcony. Pale light filtered hazily down from somewhere above. It glimmered across a thin, black column, that speared straight down through the middle of the void.

‘What is this place?’ said Helen.

Gentle walkways sloped up through the mist into oval openings in the ceiling above. Warm lights sprinkled the shadows, and the floor undulated with soft, organic shapes that rose up into wide display panels. If it weren’t for the thick layer of dust and debris that covered everything, it would have been quite beautiful.

Jac approached one of the glowing domes. He wiped a circle in the dust with his sleeve and peered through the mottled glass. Inside, a cluttered jumble of mould-covered seats faced out toward a circle of empty screens. The seats were very small, as if they’d been designed for children.

‘Weird,’ he muttered. ‘I think these are control booths or something.’

Helen, who was examining one of the tree-like pillars, looked up. ‘Controls? For what?’

Jac turned in a slow circle, looking out across the darkened chamber. ‘This is a spaceship.’

Helen stared at him. ‘Are you serious?’

‘Look at it. What else could it be? Everything’s tiny, like it wasn’t designed for humans. And it’s buried in a crater, which means it must have, I dunno…’

‘Crash-landed?’ Helen whispered.

‘Well, yeah.’

Helen gave a strange little laugh. ‘OK!’ She walked on towards the edge of the balcony. There was no barrier there, just a stark drop into the empty abyss.

As Jac moved to join her, he saw more levels above and below, all encircling the vast chamber of space. The strange black column cut straight down through the centre like a solid black line.

A tiny console, tarnished and dull, curved up beside the ledge. There was a dim display screen at the top and Jac stooped to brush his hand across it without really thinking.

The effect was immediate: light erupted across the chamber. Waves of illumination rippled across the curving walls, while hundreds of tiny screens sparkled across the pillars and the glass domes flickered like fire-pits.

A shock of dazzling, warm light flushed down through the abyss, and Jac and Helen turned in time to see dozens of slender walkways swing out from the floor, to form delicate bridges across to the central column.

Then, an explosion of sound: the shrill cacophony of a siren, howling throughout the ship.

Helen clamped her hands to her ears. ‘WHAT DID YOU DO?’ she shouted.

Jac shook his head, wincing against the noise. ‘I don’t know…’ His fingers were still touching the small glass console and its dust-covered screen was now glowing with blue symbols.

‘WHAT?’

‘I said – I DON’T KNOW!’

‘WHY IS THERE A SPACESHIP,’ Helen yelled, ‘BURIED IN THE QUARRY?’

But Jac didn’t reply; the symbols on the console were responding to his touch. They had changed colour beneath his fingers.

A flare made him look up; the central column was now alive with lights. A huge monolith of control panels and flickering screens. Frowning, he stepped out onto one of the narrow walkways.

Helen screamed, making him spin around. She was pointing fiercely at his feet.

‘ARE YOU SURE IT’S SAFE?’ she shouted.

Jac looked down and a jolt of adrenaline crackled up his spine: there was nothing beneath him.

Like a lot of things on the ship, the walkways were made from some sort of transparent crystal, the difference being that these weren’t covered in dust. He could see straight through to another bridge just beneath him, and another below that, and another, and another…

Jac had never suffered from vertigo before. However, as he stood there gazing into the abyss, he felt a ripple of weakness squirt through his legs. He couldn’t see the bottom, but it must have been hundreds of feet deep. The central column ran all the way down, disappearing into the depths like a great, black shaft.

The sheer size of it all made him feel dizzy.

Suddenly, the alarms stopped and the ship plunged back into silence.

‘Warning,’ said a calm, female voice. ‘System reserves are critically low. Please reinsert the Central Stem.’

CHAPTER 16

Bob

‘Look!’ Helen pointed to one of the screens on the column where symbols, similar to the ones on the console, were rippling across the display in time to the voice. ‘It’s the ship – the spaceship – it’s talking to you!’

‘Please reinsert the Central Stem.’

‘Er, hello?’ said Jac.

‘Regeneration of power chambers is not possible without the Central Stem. Primary systems are unable to function at this level. Shutting down until repairs are complete.’

‘What – no!’ Jac sprung to life. ‘Don’t shut down!’

There was nothing else for it. Closing his eyes and trying very hard not to think about breaking glass, he walked forwards until he was standing before the screen. Helen followed, taking delicate steps.

Another console jutted out below the screen. It was very low and Jac had to kneel down to wipe away some of the dust. He stabbed randomly at the display. Half-obscured symbols flickered and glowed beneath his fingers.

‘Hello?’ he said. ‘Please don’t shut down! Who are you? Where are we?’

‘Hello, I am Bob. Please reinsert the Central Stem.’

‘Stop saying that! What’s a Central Stem?’

‘The Central Stem is my primary power source. Scanning.’

There was a humming noise from deep behind the controls, and then an arc of white light flickered out from a small metal aperture below the screen. It traced an intricate blur of patterns in front of Jac and then clicked off, leaving him blinking.

‘You do not have the Central Stem.’

‘I know! That’s—’

‘You do have the Elemental.’

Jac froze. ‘What?’

‘Elemental presence detected. You are unified.’

‘I think this computer’s bust,’ Helen said, standing over him. ‘It doesn’t make any sense.’

‘No, wait!’ Jac leant towards the console. ‘D’you mean the red lightning?’

The computer ignored him. ‘Hostile approaching,’ it said. ‘Advise immediate action.’

‘Answer me! What’s the Elemental?’

‘Cargo breach. Unable to contain. Option one: immediate evacuation. Option two: immediate termination. This system is now powering down.’

With a ripple of lights and a click, the computer turned itself off.

Seconds later, the rest of the screens flickered off. Then lights across the entire vessel dimmed as the ship plunged back into semi-darkness. Above, the golden light faded back to a dim glow that flushed down through the crystal walkways.

Jac stared at the blank screen. ‘On!’ he said, his voice echoing across the silence. ‘Activate! Come back! What’s the Elemental? What happening to me?’

Glancing back, he saw that Helen was already halfway along the bridge.

‘Hey! Where are you going?’

‘Out.’

‘Out? What? Why? What about this? I need to get it back on.’

‘Good. You do that. I’m leaving.’

‘Don’t…’ Jac struggled to his feet. ‘Stop! Wait a minute!’

‘Jac,’ said Helen, spinning to face him. ‘Did you hear what that thing said? Hostile presence and immediate termination? I’ve never spoken to a spaceship before, but those sound like bad things. I’m getting out, right now.’

‘Oh, come on,’ saic Jac. ‘You don’t really think there’s—’

They both stood very still, listening. It came again – a low, scraping sound.

Helen’s eyes widened. ‘Yeah,’ she murmured. ‘I do.’

Jac quickly moved to join her, scanning the levels below. There were dozens of them, with walkways leading throughout.

‘OK, how do we get out?’ he asked.

‘I don’t—’ Helen froze as a shadow passed across her face.

They both looked up.

A dark figure was moving out onto one of the bridges above.

‘See!’ Helen hissed. ‘There is someone here. I knew it!’

Jac narrowed his eyes, squinting up at the figure. He was pretty sure it was a man, but there seemed to be something wrong with him. The silhouette was distorted through glass, but he could see that the figure was stooping forwards as he moved. No, Jac corrected himself, the man was walking on all fours.

Who walks on all fours?

Suddenly, the figure stopped and dropped flat against the glass bridge. Jac felt a sharp stab of fear. Whatever was up there, it was looking straight down at them.

CHAPTER 17

The Lurking Horror

Dust motes spiralled slowly through dim shafts of gentle light. Once the bustling centre of an intergalactic starship, the cargo bay was now as silent and still as a photograph.

A small light, muffled by a layer of dust, blinked red. Moments later, a dull clunk echoed across the walls. The light turned green. Another clunk, then a loud grinding sound as the main doors juddered open, sending a soft bloom of air billowing through the chamber.

‘RUN! MOVE!’ cried Helen as she ran through the opening.

Jac was right behind her, bouncing off the wall as he peered back over his shoulder.

‘I think we lost him!’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Not really.’

‘Great. How do we get out of this thing?’

‘I don’t know! Wait, where are we?’

Despite their panic, the pair skidded to a halt.

They were standing before a vast, shadowy arena.

The floor was covered in a thick, white mist, through which rose row after row of tall, glass columns. There were hundreds of them, each connected to the ceiling by thick, looping cables. The columns glowed from within, emitting a soft, blue light that shimmered through the swirling mist.

Jac trotted over to the nearest one and wiped his hand across the frosted glass. Pale light flickered between his fingers, and his eyes glittered as he peered inside.

‘Come on,’ whispered Helen, pushing past, ‘we need to find a way out.’

‘Uh-huh,’ Jac muttered. There was something inside. Something dark. He couldn’t see much. Just a dim shadow, but – wait! What was that? He squinted, moving his face closer to the glass. There. It was tiny, less than a flicker, but he’d seen it.

‘Jac?’

The form inside had moved.

‘Jac!’

With an effort, he tore himself away and moved to join Helen.

‘Look. This one’s open!’ She was crouched down beside a metal dais. The glass tube that had encased it was gone, presumably retracted into the floor. ‘Careful. There’s blue gunk everywhere.’

Jac squatted down beside her and poked a finger into the puddled liquid. It came away in a trail of bright blue goo.

Helen flinched. ‘Don’t touch it!’

‘Why not?’

‘Because! You’ll get… space rabies or something.’

‘Space rabies.’

‘Or something.’

Jac wiped a hand down his hoodie.

‘There must be hundreds of these things,’ Helen breathed. ‘Wonder what was in them?’

‘More like who was in them,’ said Jac, climbing to his feet.

Helen gave him a sharp look. ‘What does that mean?’

‘Pretty sure I saw something moving in that tube.’

She stood up slowly. ‘OK, stop. I’m freaked out enough already.’

CLUNK!

They both turned; the sound had come from the main entrance.

‘What was—’

‘Down!’

They couldn’t see from where they crouched, but it sounded like someone was moving towards them.

‘Now what?’ Helen hissed. ‘We’re trapped.’

‘This way.’

Keeping low to the mist, they crept between the rows of glass tubes, working their way up until they were near to the open doors.

‘See anything?’ whispered Helen.

Jac peaked his head up for a second and then quickly squatted back down. ‘Nope.’

‘Who d’you think it is?’

He shook his head. ‘Security guard?’

‘Security guard? You think?’ hissed Helen.

‘Dunno. But it’s the least creepy thing I can think of right now.’

‘SHH!’ Helen put her hand up. ‘Listen.’

Neither of them moved. There were no sounds beyond the flat, constant hum of the chamber.

‘I think he’s gone past,’ she said.

They stared at each other for a moment and then Helen gave a sudden, manic grin.

‘Leg it!’ She grabbed Jac’s arm, yanked him up and started sprinting toward the opening.

Jac loped along after her with long strides, as they plunged into the curtain of shadow that fell down across the entrance bay. It was only as they neared the doors that he pulled back.

Helen glanced over one shoulder. ‘Come on!’ she hissed.

‘Wait, I’ve got a feeling—’

‘Stuff your feeling. Move!’

However, instead of following her, Jac forced them both to a stumbling halt. Looking past Helen’s frantic face, he saw movement in the open doorway. There was something there. Something big.

And when it stepped into the chamber, he had to force himself to suppress a scream.

Helen turned to follow his shocked gaze.

‘What are you—’ She gasped and staggered back into him.

It was not a security guard.

It wasn’t even human.

CHAPTER 18

Disturbance at Pottle Lane

Wes coasted slowly down Pottle Lane. It was a lonely little track at the edge of the village; more path than road. Eventually, he spotted a sturdy, white-walled bungalow fronted by well-manicured lawns. Leaving the car, he crunched down the gravelled driveway and rang the bell.

A tall, rather gangly looking man answered the door. He beamed through a wild, ginger beard.

‘Eyup – you must be the new plod!’

Wes smiled back. ‘Sergeant Jenkins. And you’re Mr Baxter?’

‘Sam. Sorry to call so late, but,’ he nodded back over one shoulder, ‘she heard noises, and after last night we’re not tekkin any chances.’

‘You mean the attack at the farm?’

‘No duck – Sergeant – sorry. I mean what happened here.’

Wes frowned. ‘Here?’

‘Din’t they tell you?’ Sam twisted to shout back into the house. ‘You told girl on’t desk, din’t you, love?’

A figure appeared in the hall behind him. ‘Course I did… ooh hello.’ The woman padded forward and stretched a hand over her husband’s shoulder. ‘You the new rozzer, then?’

Wes took her hand. ‘That’s me. Pleased to meet you, Miss…?’

‘Sally. His better half.’

‘They done the van, see?’ said Sam.

Wes’s grin faltered. ‘Er…’

‘I say they, coz it looks like there was more than one of ’em, but I might be wrong.’ Sam nodded at the white van parked on the drive. ‘Happened last night. Set the alarm going – I reckon that put the fright on ’em, coz they was gone by the time I looked.’

‘Right,’ Wes began. ‘So, what—’

‘It’s coz of the meat,’ Sally said, flatly. ‘He runs delivery for th’ butchers. That van reeks.’

Sam frowned. ‘It does not reek.’

‘Oh yes?’ Sally folded her arms. ‘So what do you think got ’em so interested in our driveway, then? Smell o’ the roses, were it?’

‘I cleaned the van last month. You saw me clean it.’

‘It reeks!’

‘Sorry, sorry...’ Wes raised his hands and the couple turned their attention back to him. ‘What exactly happened last night?’

‘See for yourself,’ Sam replied, pointing.

Wes walked over to the vehicle. It was parked beside a tall conifer hedge. Aside from a slightly fusty smell, there was nothing obviously wrong with it.

‘Other side,’ Sam said, making a twirling motion with his finger.

‘Right.’ Wes moved around the bonnet – and stopped dead.

Earlier, when he’d spoken to Sandy about this, he’d joked about Bigfoot and they’d laughed. Despite what had happened at Doxy’s farm, this whole escaped animal thing seemed a bit ridiculous, a bit funny. But, as of right now, the joke was over.

The side of Sam’s van had been ripped apart.

Deep, savage cuts criss-crossed and buckled the metal. The slashes were so deep that he could see the plastic stacking crates inside. Wes swallowed. Unless he was very much mistaken, these looked like claw marks.

‘See what I mean?’ Sam said, his feet crunching in the gravel as he joined Wes beneath the shadow of the conifer hedge. ‘Now, you tell me, Sergeant. What sort of animal could do that?’

CHAPTER 19

Hunted

Jac couldn’t believe what he was seeing.

The creature was tall and crooked. It wore a long, leathery cloak that reached to the floor and its body was swathed in stained bandages that hung in tattered loops. There was machinery in its skin. Cogs and pistons in its arms. Cracked dials in its chest. It looked like a science experiment gone wrong.

Very, very wrong.

The bandages covered some of its face, but not enough. There were still glimpses: puckered white skin, a slitted nose, a ragged mouth glistening with sharpened, metal teeth. And its eyes – huge, black and wet – staring out at them with wild intensity.

The creature took another heavy step closer. Helen grabbed Jac’s hoodie and pulled him back. The creature made no move to follow. It didn’t need to.

Something scraped behind them. A sound like nails on glass. They spun round to see two more bandaged monstrosities emerge from the fog. They were still dripping with blue slime.

One of the things dropped onto all fours, slitted nose flaring as it sniffed the air. The huge, bat-like eyes never left the two children. It made a low, rumbling noise and the other creatures growled softly in response. Slowly, all three of them began to close in.

‘Jac, what…’ Helen breathed, her voice tight with fear as they backed away. ‘What do we do?’

But Jac couldn’t reply. He could barely think. These things were creeping closer and closer. Herding them. Forcing them back into the bay, away from the exit. There was nowhere to go, no way out…

Wait. He narrowed his eyes. It was hard to see through all the mist, but it looked like there was a recess in the curving wall behind them. Could it be an escape?

‘Jac!’

He turned back. Two of the creatures had stopped moving. They were waiting, half crouched: poised. The third was closer. Much closer.

‘RUN!’

Together, they sprinted into the mist, weaving between the blue cylinders as fast as they could.

There was an explosion of movement behind and Jac felt the floor vibrate. Something crashed and he felt a wet flicker across his cheek. He risked a glance over one shoulder and saw wild eyes. The thing was smashing through glass tubes as if they were toys.

He knew, then, that they wouldn’t make it. The recess was too far away and these things were too fast.

‘Head for that hole!’ he shouted and veered off, back towards the row of open cylinders.

Helen looked across in horror. ‘Are you crazy!’ she screamed.

There was a crash from behind, and Jac saw the nearest creature turn to follow him.

I must be! he thought to himself.

The creature caught up with him in two massive bounds and pounced. More out of instinct than anything, Jac threw himself to one side. He skidded, arms stretched, across the glass floor and slithered to a bump against a control terminal.

There was a feral scream and he managed to turn around in time to see the creature, scrabbling frantically, as it slithered into another of the tubes. It smashed straight through it and disappeared in a spray of gloop and glass. Another ragged shape fell out of the tube. It hit the floor with a heavy thump and lay in the mist – twitching.

Jac looked up; he was still lying on his back and the small terminal curved out overhead. He reached up with one hand and frantically ran his fingers across the controls.

‘Come on, come on!’ he pleaded. ‘Do something!’

Bleep.

‘Hello?’ he hissed. ‘Bob?’

Beside him, a small panel slid open to reveal an alcove full of circuitry and wires. Jac frowned at it. ‘No, that’s a service hatch. Do something better…’

A deep growl thundered across his thoughts.

He turned to see the creature rise up from behind the shattered tube, its mouth a ragged snarl of metal teeth. The creased, pale face was criss-crossed with stained bandages that hung down around mottled skin.

In his panic, Jac’s mind flashed back to one of his dad’s old records. Some heavy metal band from the ’80s. He couldn’t remember the name, but there was a picture of their mascot on the sleeve – a weird zombie monster called Eddie. Eddie the Head.

It was almost funny. Except, this was no mascot. As the thing – Eddie – drew near, a smell caught at the back of Jac’s throat. A reeking, sickly sweet stench, like rotting dog food mixed with something else, something oddly familiar.

The thought vanished as he saw a twin reflection of his own, terrified face in glistening black eyes. He pressed himself back against the terminal and felt the opening to the service hatch scraping his shoulder. It was hopeless, but there was nowhere else to go. He reached back and shuffled himself inside the tiny space.

It was a tight squeeze, but he managed to pull his knees in just as the creature lunged at him. With a roar, it thrust an arm inside and Jac found himself staring in horror at three vicious-looking blades raking the air in front of his face. Eddie’s got claws!

Desperate, Jac cast around. Apart from a thick nest of wires, there was nothing else in the small space. He was trapped. And here came the arm again, yanking at the opening, making it bulge and buckle and then, eventually, tearing away a whole section. This thing was unstoppable!

A large, black eye appeared at the ruined hatch. The creature grunted when it saw Jac. He pushed himself back amongst the wires as far as he could, but it wasn’t enough: he was a sitting duck.

And then it happened.

A jolt of energy, so powerful it made his jaw clench and his body spasm. A shudder of electricity ran down his arms into his fingers. A crackle. A flash. And the thick bundle of wires beside him began to twitch.

Before he could think, Eddie grabbed his ankle and dragged him out through the hatch. Jac kicked and struggled, but it was no use. He was yanked up into the air by one leg. Twisting around, he saw a pale face dipping towards him. Saw the sliver flash of metal teeth. Cold breath fluttered across Jac’s face and he squeezed his eyes shut, unable to watch as those teeth closed into him…

However, instead, his ankle was released and Jac dropped to the floor in a painful clatter of limbs. He quickly scrabbled back and got to his feet. The ragged creature ignored him. Its attention was fixed entirely on the control terminal. Jac frowned. Why had it let go?

A glimpse of silver gave him the answer. Something was slithering out from the service hatch. He shook his head in disbelief. It was the wires. Now, instead of just twitching, they were actually moving; joining into a writhing silver tendril that rippled through the air like some bizarre mechanical snake. Jac knew he should run, but he couldn’t tear his eyes away: it was hypnotic.

Eddie swiped out with a claw and the tendril exploded into a bloom of silver that hung for a second, before whipping back to coil fluidly around Eddie’s arm. The creature screamed, pounding and ripping out fistfuls of wriggling strands as it was lifted into the air.

Yet more tendrils rippled out from the hatch, rising up to tear into the thrashing form from all directions. They whipped and stabbed, slicing into the creature’s flesh. Gurgles of thick, black blood spattered across the floor.

Jac had seen enough. He turned from the grotesque struggle and ran.

Staggering blindly through the fog, he careered between glowing glass tubes. One of them swirled open as he approached and another dark creature tumbled out in a slosh of blue gloop. He tried to dodge aside, but his foot skidded in the slime and he pitched forward onto the floor. Beside him, a black claw rose up through the mist.

Jac scrambled away, slipping and sliding as he went. He heard a low hum as another tube opened. And then another. And another. He spun around in a circle: everywhere he looked, dark, crooked creatures were rising slowly through the fog. It was like a scene from a bad zombie movie.

Suddenly, a hand reached out, grabbed his hoody and pulled him down beside an open cylinder.

‘Omigodithoughtyoudbeeneaten!’

Helen stared at him with wide eyes.

Jac breathed a shaky sigh of relief. ‘I’m OK,’ he managed. ‘But those things are everywhere!’

‘It’s OK, they’re really slow. Come on!’ Helen dragged him by the wrist, dodging between groggy, shuffling creatures. A few of them looked up as the children passed.

Some of them began to follow.

The wall curved up before them. Helen reached it, followed it to the opening – and stopped. The recess was just that: a curved hollow, no more than two metres deep.

‘Oh God, it’s a cupboard.’ She turned, eyes wide. ‘Now what?’

‘Get in,’ Jac bundled her through. ‘At least we’re hidden.’

As soon as they were inside, a curved glass door slid partway across the entrance. It was identical to the recess they’d first appeared in, except that this door had a small circle of light in its centre.

‘OK,’ Helen gasped, ‘it’s another transporter thing. Make it work!’

Jac looked about helplessly. ‘Make what work? There’s nothing here!’

‘I dunno, you’re the one that keeps turning things on,’ said Helen. ‘What about that circle?’

‘Won’t that just open the door?’

‘Maybe, but it’s worth—’ She broke off with a sudden intake of breath as a dark shadow fell across them.

It was Eddie.

Slivers of wire were still rippling across its torn face. One of its eyes had burst – hanging in a ruined mess over stained bandages. The other was fixed on them with pure, black fury.

‘Jac. The circle.’

The monster roared, sending a spit-flecked cloud of breath across the glass. More creatures crowded in around it, slitted nostrils flaring and twitching as they sniffed for prey. Eddie found the opening. It reached in with a long, bandaged arm. Helen screamed as it grabbed her coat.

‘Press the circle!’

Jac stepped forwards and slammed his hand against the circle of light. There was a small pop, like a balloon popping, and the creature staggered back, clutching the oozing stump where its arm had been. It looked up with one, livid eye.

The recess was empty.

CHAPTER 20

Not Funny Any More

‘Dispatch, this is Jenkins.’

‘Hey, Sarge. Was I right?’

‘What?’

‘Bigfoot?’

Wes took off his hat and threw it in through the car window. ‘No. Listen, I need you to get a forensics team down here.’

Sandy’s tone shifted from amused to serious in an instant. ‘What’s happened?’

‘Another attack.’ Wes shook his head. ‘This is bad, Sandy. Something tore up the side of Sam Baxter’s van like it was paper.’

‘Seriously?’ She sounded shocked. ‘But, that’s residential. That’s in the village.’

‘Yeah.’ Wes dragged a hand over his face and tried to gather his thoughts together. ‘OK, we need to know what we’re dealing with here. See if you can contact someone. Try the Wildlife Crime Unit – and, if that’s no good, call the RSPCA.’

‘OK.’

‘OK – thanks. And let the Inspector know. She’s going to want to see this.’

Wes turned to lean back against the patrol car and let out a long breath. He’d seen some stuff while working at the Met – scary stuff. But nothing like this.

‘So much for a quiet life in the country,’ he muttered.

He lifted his gaze up, over the Baxters’ bungalow, towards the trees at the top of the valley. They cast a cold silhouette against the darkening sky.

Thank God Jac’s home, he thought.

CHAPTER 21

Sunshine

Grass.

He was standing on grass.

A soft breeze feathered Jac’s hair as he looked up. The sun was a sullen red smear across the horizon.

‘We’re outside.’

They were standing in the middle of a long, sloping meadow. The quarry was below, hidden behind a dense tangle of shrubs and trees. Fading sunlight glimmered through the thicket, dappling the grass with flecks of gold.

‘It worked. We’re outside!’ He turned to Helen, but she seemed slightly less impressed, presumably because of the severed arm that was still attached to her sleeve.

‘Whoa! Is that—’

‘Get it off!’

‘Oh God!’

‘Get it off!’

‘That’s horrible!’

‘I know! Get it off!’

‘I’m not touching that!’

‘Getitoff! Getitoff! Getitoff!’

Rather reluctantly, Jac reached out and tried to pluck the grisly appendage from Helen’s coat. However, the metal claws were tightly burrowed into the cloth and would not release their grip. There was a smell of decay coupled with that oddly familiar machine tang.

‘Right,’ said Jac, using both hands to pull at the severed limb. ‘So this is the most disgusting thing I’ve ever done.’

‘Just unhook it!’

‘I’m trying!’

‘Getitoff!’

‘Stop leaning back!’ Jac yanked again, pulling Helen into a ray of misted sunlight. There was a sudden, fizzing hiss.

They both recoiled.

‘What was that?’ said Helen.

Jac still had hold of the bandaged limb. He lifted it back up into the sunlight and the hiss came again. The mottled skin began to blister and blacken, as if burnt. Smoke billowed out from the ragged stump. It was shrinking. The claws retracted, releasing their grip on the coat.

He let go. The limb dropped to the ground and burst into flame. They both stood back as it burnt. A fowl stench filled the air and – there – that familiar machine smell. Suddenly, Jac realised what it was.

Petrol.

They watched until the thing had curled into a smouldering husk.

‘Thanks,’ Helen croaked.

‘Yeah.’ Jac nodded. ‘No problem.’

Glowing cinders drifted up into the air. He nudged what was left of the husk with his toe and it collapsed into a heap of ash.

***

Ten minutes later, they were both picking up their bikes from beside the empty guardhouse. Neither of them had said much on the walk down.

Leaning her bike against one hip, Helen held up her phone. ‘Finally,’ she muttered.

Jac glanced across. ‘What?’

‘Got a signal.’

‘So?’

‘So? There’s a spaceship full of monsters under the quarry. I’m calling the police.’

Jac twisted around, almost dropping his bike. ‘No. Don’t!’

Helen flinched back. ‘What?’

‘You can’t. Not yet.’

She looked at him as if he’d just pulled a hamster out of his nose. ‘Are you crazy? We’ve got to—’

‘STOP!’ Jac raised a hand to grab her arm. ‘Don’t… just don’t.’

Helen shook her head, eyes wide. ‘What are you on about? Why not?’

‘It’s my dad. The police is my dad! I can’t…’ He looked away, back into the woods. ‘I can’t let him go – not down there.’

There was a long pause. Finally, Helen lowered the phone.

‘OK, I didn’t think of that.’ Her voice softened. ‘But Jac, we’ve got to tell someone. We live here. And, after what happened up at Doxy’s farm – your dad, I mean…’ She paused, weighing her words. ‘He’s already looking for those things, isn’t he?’

Helen waited, but there was no response.

‘Wouldn’t you prefer he knew what he was looking for?’ she pressed. ‘What’s, like, waiting for him?’

Jac closed his eyes for a moment. Then, abruptly, he pulled his bike onto the road and swung his leg over the saddle.

‘C’mon,’ he said, ‘we need to get back. He doesn’t know I’m out.’

He kicked down hard on the peddles and Helen watched him steer the bike down the hill. A slight flare made her look up. She frowned. The security lights along the perimeter fence seemed to be flickering in his wake.

CHAPTER 22

A Plan

The sky was dark by the time Helen wheeled into Woolmouth market place. She saw Jac waiting for her at the edge of the square; he was sitting on a low wall beneath a street lamp.

She dismounted, dropping the bike at the kerb, and walked across.

‘Listen—’ she began.

‘I know,’ said Jac. ‘And you’re right, I have to tell my dad. He needs to know. It’s just…’ His eyes flicked up, briefly meeting hers before lowering them back towards the concrete. Helen was shocked to see tears glinting in the lamplight.

‘Jac?’ She took a small step forwards. ‘What is it? What’s wrong?’

A breeze drifted through the square, gently chasing dry leaves across the cobbles. Jac watched them for a while before speaking.

‘My mum died,’ he said softly.

Helen froze. The words were like magic; they seemed to slow down time.

‘She had leukaemia,’ continued Jac. ‘We only found out last year, but it was already too late. A few months later, she was gone.’ He swallowed. ‘That’s why we moved to Woolmouth. Dad couldn’t cope. He couldn’t stay in the flat – not without her – so he took the first transfer out of London.’

He paused for a moment. ‘And that was it. No warning. No choice. We left. Everything and everyone I’ve ever known. Now we’re just… alone. And it really, really sucks.’ He shook his head. ‘I’ve been mad at him for so long. We barely even talk anymore. But, after this, suddenly I’m terrified. I mean, what if I lose him as well? What if…’

But Jac didn’t get to finish, because suddenly Helen was hugging him so hard he could barely breathe.

‘Jac, I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, squeezing him even tighter. ‘I‘m so sorry.’

A huge wave of sadness flushed through Jac and he closed his eyes against a blur of tears. But then something very strange happened. For the first time in months, he felt the fist in his chest start to unclench. He took in a deep lungful of air and let it go in a single, shaky breath.

‘Listen to me,’ Helen said, pulling back to gaze into his face. ‘You are not alone. OK? Not anymore.’

He nodded, not trusting himself to speak, and Helen nodded back. Then she spoke again, and what she said surprised him.

‘And, actually, I don’t think we should tell your dad.’

Jac wiped his eyes with the back of his hand and blinked at her. ‘No… you were right before. He has to know what he’s up against.’

‘Yes, absolutely. But not yet.’ Helen shook her head. ‘I was thinking on the ride down – about how that arm just burnt up in the sunlight. And then I thought, maybe we should wait. At least, until morning, when the sun comes out. That way, we know they can’t come out and get us.’

‘Us?’

She gave a quick nod. ‘I think we should all go. Me, you, your dad, my mum. Anyone, everyone, as many people as we can get. We take them to the quarry and show them the hole – they’ll see the ship. They’ll see that it’s real and they’ll have to believe us.’

‘OK…’ Jac frowned. ‘Then what?’

‘Well, then, that’s it. Your dad can call in the army or the government or, I don’t know, Men in Black.’ She flashed a weak smile. ‘Point is – we don’t need to go back inside that ship. None of us do.’

Helen watched him take in the words. ‘Look, come to mine in the morning. I live on Water Lane, number 23. I have to walk my dog, Barney, so we’ll go together and figure it out on the way.’

Jac nodded. ‘OK, yeah.’ He paused. ‘But… what about tonight? What if those things…’

‘I know.’ Helen looked away, biting a nail. ‘But you saw: most of them were only just waking up. They were really slow.’ She shrugged. ‘So, maybe they won’t even come out of the ship.’

‘Yeah. Maybe.’

‘Look, it’s…’ She puffed out her cheeks. ‘I don’t know what else to do.’

A car drove into the square. Twin beams swept across their faces, making them flinch back, shying away from the light like fugitives. Helen waited until it had driven past before speaking.

‘We’d better get inside.’

‘Yeah. I’ve still got to sneak past my dad.’ Jac stood up. ‘Lock the doors and windows.’

She gave a small nod. ‘You too.’

‘See you in the morning.’

‘OK.’

Jac watched her pedal away, then wheeled his own bike across the square toward Hilltop Lane. It was too steep to start peddling, so he walked it up the hill. But, as he neared Spitewinter House, he stopped.

He kept thinking back to that tiny service hatch on the ship. His mind replayed the events over and over: the narrow space, the creature glaring at him, its claws reaching in and… And what?

What did I do?

He stopped and leant the bike against an old stone wall. The wheel turned and the bike slipped to the pavement with a clatter, but Jac barely noticed.

What’s happening to me?

He held his hands up before him. They looked normal. But those wires had come to life. They’d torn into that creature, slicing into skin and flesh. Black blood spattering across a metal floor.

He’d done that. Him.

Jac dropped his hands. Maybe he and Eddie were the same.

Maybe they were both monsters.

CHAPTER 23

Midnight

Jac’s eyes snapped open.

His room was dark. It was the middle of the night and yet, suddenly, he was wide awake. The noise that had wrenched him from sleep still hung in the air like a sigh.

He looked around his room. Spitewinter House had three floors and Jac’s room was at the top: a converted attic with sloping eaves and a large, round window looking onto the garden. There wasn’t a light, but his dad had fixed fairy lights into the beams, which cast a dim light across the room. The door was still closed. His clothes were still piled on the floor, where he’d thrown them after sneaking upstairs. Nothing was out of place.

So what had woken him so abruptly?

Slipping out of bed, he crossed to the window and pulled the curtain open, drenching the room with silver moonlight. Cool night air, fresh and sharp, whispered in through the open casement and sent a chill through him. Maybe the sound had come from outside. Could it be one of those creatures from the ship? Had Eddie followed him home?

He leant on the sill and peered down. Directly below him was a small courtyard, with stone steps leading up into the back garden. The garden was a dark froth of wild grass and untamed bushes that stretched out for half an acre towards the broken stone wall that marked their boundary. Beyond that was the little hill, a round silhouette against the clear night sky. Nothing moved. Even the wind had died away to silence.

Jac shivered; it had probably been another fox. He still wasn’t used to the sound of the countryside at night. London had been noisy, but at least it was constant. A grey drone that could be tuned out. This place was different. It was full of things that hooted and rustled and shrieked.

He was about to let the curtain drop, when he saw something odd.

Towards the furthest boundary of the garden, near the stone wall, was a dim spot of light. He almost hadn’t noticed because it was so faint, like a star reflected in water.

He frowned. The light was in the grass. For a moment, he wondered if it could be something electronic, a dropped watch or a mobile phone perhaps. But that didn’t fit; the glow had a warm hue and it flickered slightly, like a flame.

Then it began to move.

Jac watched in anxious silence as the glow slipped erratically across the moonlit lawn. It was working its way, slowly but surely, toward the steps. He took a deep breath, closed the curtain and crept quickly from the room.

Two minutes later, still in his pyjamas and carrying one of his dad’s heavy-duty police torches, Jac was tiptoeing out through the back door onto the paved courtyard.

He climbed the steps slowly, feeling the rough, cold stone against his bare feet. Halfway up he stopped, sensing movement. There was a rustling sound and that warm glow began to flicker through a tangle of tall grass. It looked like a tiny lantern.

Fascinated, he took another step, and then stopped when something sharp pricked against his stomach. Looking down, he was surprised to see a long stick poking out from the foliage. The stick ended with a sharp metal tip that glinted dangerously in the moonlight.

‘Tha’s close enough,’ said a gruff voice.

CHAPTER 24

Visitors

Jac froze.

His eyes travelled slowly along the spear to a dark figure, partially hidden amongst the long grass. The figure was small, no more than two feet tall, and looked like it was wearing a thick, furry coat. Unless… Jac blinked and leant in closer.

‘I said tha’s close enough!’

The spear jabbed out threateningly and he was obliged to drop down a step.

‘Tharrim?’ said the figure.

‘Reckon.’ This reply came from slightly further back, by the dancing light. They both spoke with thick, Derbyshire accents.

Squinting, Jac swept bright torchlight up into the greenery. There came an immediate cry of alarm, and he caught a glimpse of silver eyes as the nearest figure fell back, dropping its spear.

‘Chuffin’ eck!’

‘Turn ’at thing off. Now!’

Jac clicked off the light with numb fingers and the steps plunged into darkness. But what he’d seen stayed with him. Those eyes. He’d seen them before…

A furry arm stretched out from the shadows and reached for the fallen spear, pulling it quickly back into the grass. So. Not a furry coat. Fur. Jac shook his head slightly, as if that would shake loose some kind of an explanation

‘Who… what… are you?’ he stammered.

‘Hush!’ hissed the one with the light. ‘Kip tha noise dahn, else tha’s like to wek house. Wey dun mean yeh any ’arm.’

‘Yeah?’ Jac tried to keep his voice steady as he stared defiantly up at the hidden creatures. ‘Tell that to your mate with the spear.’

There was a pause.

‘Wha’s tha name, lad?’ the voice said at last.

‘Jac.’

‘Ah’m Thomus – an’ the daft bogger who can’t kip ’old owis spike is JonJon.’

The spear waggled above the grass. ‘Aah-do.’

Jac raised one hand slightly. ‘Hello,’ he said numbly. ‘Er…’

‘Weyer Hobs.’

There was another pause. ‘Hobs?’ asked Jac.

‘Ar. Yer lot ’as other names fer us – dwarves, gnomes, goblins, pixies.’

‘Hobs are real?’ Jac mumbled. He was beginning to feel lightheaded.

‘Thassit.’

‘Ow!’ said Jac, pinching himself.

‘Wha’ d’yeh do that fer?’

‘Checking I’m not asleep.’

‘Raight.’ The speaker, Thomus, paused. ‘Is tharra normal hooman thing then, or are yeh a bit—’

‘Stop! Just, stop. This is getting too weird too fast.’ Jac took a deep breath. ‘First it’s weird lights and buried spaceships, and now there’s pixies in my garden!’

‘Dunna wittle, youth. Ah know this must all seem a bit—’

‘Insane?’

‘Diffrent. But this is a fust fer us, an’ all. Ah’ve not spoke to one o’ yer lot. Not many of us has. An’ I told yeh – weyer not pixies, or any such nonsense.’

‘Right. You’re Hobs. Actual Hobs. You’re real. And you live in my garden.’

‘Geeower! Wey live in Narrowdark.’

Jac looked blank.

‘A’s a city—’

‘Best city in’t planet!’ interrupted the other figure, JonJon. ‘A city o’ steam an’ brass ut runs under th’ valley.’

‘Under?’ Jac struggled. ‘As in, under the ground?’

‘Ar.’

‘Under this valley? Under this house?’

‘Ar.’

‘A city. That no one knows about.’

‘Ar.’

‘Yeah. OK, why not?’ Jac sighed, running a hand across his face. ‘Is this even real, or should I just give up now and go nuts?’

‘Issit real?’ Thomus lifted his lamp. The faint light flickered across a wide mouth, a squashed, round nose, a huge eruption of shaggy brown hair and eyes that shone like two silver pennies. ‘Aye. Reckon it is.’

Jac stared.

‘These’re bad times, lad,’ continued Thomus softly. ‘Very bad times. Tha’s why weyer ’ere.’ He lowered the lamp and crouched down. ‘The valley in’t safe nomor. Theyer’s summit bin set loose. Summit terrible—’

‘The creatures… you mean those creatures, that attacked the farm.’

‘No lad. Ah mean you.’

Me.

Jac froze. He felt the breath catch in his throat. ‘You were there!’ he gasped. ‘At the top of the hill.’

‘Yup,’ Thomus said. ‘Wey saw it all. Red fire in’t sky, cuttin’ through trees an’ stone an’ soil. Destroyin’ everthin’ it touched. Everthin’… ’cept fer you.’ He paused, silver eyes glittering from the shadows. ‘Ah know wha that means, even if tha dunt.’

Hardly daring to breathe, Jac leant closer to the hidden figure. ‘What does it mean?’

JonJon laughed. ‘Go on, then. Tell ’im this brillyant idea o’ yers!’

‘The light were red,’ Thomus snapped back. ‘You saw it yeh-sen.’

‘An Elemental!’ barked JonJon cheerfully. ‘Ayf-soaped bogger thinks yeh bin turned into an Elemental!’

Jac felt a cold trickle run through his heart.

‘Now dun’ go tellin’ ’im that!’

‘Why not – s’what yeh think!’

Jac raised his hands. ‘Wait. Did you just say Elemental?’

‘What ah think,’ said Thomus, ignoring Jac completely, ‘is tharrit’s ower job to guard Narrowdark – whatever it teks.’

‘Ar, but lookit ’im,’ said JonJon bluntly. ‘Ah’ve seen more fat on a chip.’

‘Ah saw what ah saw,’ said Thomus. ‘So did you. An’ raight now, the tunnels’re crawlin’ wi’ monsters – how long fer they brek through t’city? Eh?’

There was no reply.

Thomus sighed and turned back to Jac. ‘Listen, youth. It’s true, ah dunno what really happened to yeh on that hill. But ah do know this: that light were alive. It curved across sky, changed direction and aimed for yeh. Theyer’s only one thing ah know of can do summat like that, an’ it’s a thing o’ legend.’ He shook his head. ‘Mebbe ah am ayf-soaped, but weyer desperate, lad. Wey need help.’

‘But how can—’

‘Owd up,’ said JonJon suddenly. ‘What spaceship?’

Jac turned. ‘Pardon?’ he said, helplessly.

‘Couple o’ minutes back, yeh said ’bout a spaceship.’

‘Oh, yeah. The ship! It’s buried in the quarry.’

‘Is that raight?’

‘Yes!’ Jac nodded. ‘Like – a real spaceship.’

‘OK.’

Jac looked helplessly between them. Did they not understand? ‘I’m serious! It’s full of these weird, monster robots and—’

‘Whoa! Yeh bin onboard?’ said JonJon.

‘Yes! And—’

‘Were yeh bitten?’ said Thomus.

‘What? No, I—’

‘Scratched? Cut? Owt like that?’

Jac shook his head. ‘No, nothing. But did you hear what I said? There’s a spaceship! It spoke to me.’

‘She spoke?’ Thomus’ voice was incredulous. ‘Yeh spoke to Bob!’

Jac frowned. ‘You already know about the ship?’

‘Course wey do. What’d she say?’

‘Um, not much – there wasn’t time. But she used that same word. Elemental.’

‘Chuffin’ eck!’ JonJon’s spear clattered to the ground for a second time.

‘Ah told yeh!’ Thomus said, turning. ‘Ah told yeh it were th’ light.’

‘Yeah, but ah din’t think yeh was serious!’ JonJon retreated further back into the grass. ‘Chuffin’ eck!’

‘What?’ Jac hissed desperately. ‘What does it mean?’

Thomus turned back. ‘Means theyer’s a chance.’

‘For what?’

There was no immediate reply and Jac got the impression he was being studied from the shadows.

‘Look lad,’ Thomus said finally. ‘Those creatures yeh saw dahn theyer—’

‘The monster robots?’

‘Theyer called Rangda,’ Thomus continued grimly. ‘Old bio-weapons from the Undyin’ Wars, raight nasty ones, too. Bin locked away in that ship fer a couple hundred year. They was safe, secure – ’til now.’ He shook his head. ‘Whoever it were released ’em, they knew what they was doin’. They din’t jus’ activate Rangda – they took th’ Central Stem an all.’

‘Meaning we can’t de-activate the chuffin’ things,’ grunted JonJon.

‘Raight.’ Thomus leant forwards slightly towards Jac. ‘But mebbe you can.’

‘Me?’

‘Bob’s bin on critical reserves since the crash,’ said Thomus quietly. ‘She ain’t spoke to no one in more’n a century. But she spoke to you.’

Jac squinted up at the figures. ‘I don’t get it – how do you know so much about that spaceship?’

‘Don’t be soft. It’s ower spaceship.’

‘Your…?’ The words echoed through his skull. Jac flashed back to those tiny seats he’d seen, and the control console – so low, that he’d had to bend down to touch it.

‘Ah told yeh, lad, we’re not from fairy land.’ Thomus stood up. ‘C’mon JJ, grab yer spike. We need to get gowin.’

‘Whorrabout ’im?’

‘Eh’ll have to wayt. She needs to hear on this.’

Jac shook his head. ‘Wait, you’re leaving?’

‘Fer now,’ said Thomus. ‘Jus’ dun’t tell no one abowt th’ ship.’

‘What? No way!’ Jac took a step up. ‘I’ve got to. Those things are dangerous.’

‘More’n yeh can imagine.’

‘We’ve got to call in the army, or the government, or—’

‘Calm it.’ Silver eyes glinted in the shadows. ‘Listen. Say owt abaht this to anyone an’ yeh gonna get folk killed. Trust me – there’s more to Rangda ’n bad breath an’ sharp teeth. Anyone as goes dahn theyer is dead. Worse than dead. So kip tha’ gob shut.’

Jac felt his knuckles tighten around the torch. He was about to speak again, when a small, white square arced out from the grass to land at his feet.

‘Tek this,’ said Thomus.

Jac stooped to pick up a folded piece of paper. It was held shut by a spiral clasp, which he removed before opening it out. The sheet was A4, with a small, red triangle printed at the top alongside the words Thorn Incorporated. And that was it. Other than a company number at the bottom, it was blank.

‘It’s a letterhead,’ he said blankly.

‘Whoever bruk in’t ship left a bunch o’ stuff in the cavern,’ said Thomus. ‘Most all owit were stamped wi’ that triangle.’

Jac frowned at the logo. Thorn Incorporated. The name was oddly familiar. He was sure he’d seen it recently…

A sudden rustle made him look up. He blinked. The light had disappeared.

‘Hey! Hello? HELLO?’

He ran up the last few steps and scanned the grass. For a moment, he thought he saw a dim flicker of light by the wall. But, as he watched, it faded away and the garden became still once more.

Part 3

Saturday

CHAPTER 25

The Pendant

‘Oy, Lazybones! Wake up!’

The words took a while to filter through, but eventually Jac opened his eyes. He was staring blearily at the kitchen table, its old wooden counter pitted and stained by decades of use. Groaning, he raised his head.

Morning sun poured in through the open windows, making him wince. His dad was standing at the stove, silhouetted in golden light.

‘Late night?’ he asked.

Jac rubbed his face. ‘Nah, I’m fine.’

That was a lie. Sleep had not come easily after he’d returned to bed last night and now he was so exhausted that he barely remembered coming downstairs. The letterhead, along with its spiral clasp, was folded up in his pocket. If not for that, he might think his nocturnal encounter had been some bizarre dream.

Stifling a yawn, he pulled the hood of his sweatshirt over his head and was just starting to slump back down when a plate appeared under his nose, bringing with it a warm smell of maple syrup and hot butter. His eyes widened and he jolted upright.

‘Pancakes?’

‘Peace offering,’ Wes said, leaning against the table.

With a sudden surge of hunger, Jac grabbed a fork and sliced into the thick pile. Syrup oozed onto the plate. He crammed a hot hunk of fluffy pancake into his mouth.

‘This is amazing.’

A slight smile twitched across his dad’s face. ‘You always were a sucker for American pancakes.’ He reached for his cup and took a long drink of coffee before speaking again. ‘Can we talk?’

‘Sure.’

Wes took a deep breath. ‘Look, I know how hard it’s been for you since your mum died. Moving out here, leaving everything behind.’

Jac glanced up. ‘It’s OK.’

‘No, it isn’t. It really isn’t. I’ve been so wrapped up in work and the house and everything, I just… haven’t been around for you. And that’s not fair, not after everything else we’ve been through. So, from now on, I’m there. Whatever it is. Whatever you’re going through. You can talk to me. I want us to be friends again, OK?’

Tell him! said a voice in Jac’s head. Tell him about the ship, about the Hobs, about the Rangda… But Thomus’ gruff warning from last night still resonated in his ears and he knew he couldn’t say anything. Not yet. Instead, he just smiled and nodded.

‘Yeah?’ Wes smiled back. ‘OK, good. Great. And look, I made you something.’

Jac glanced at his plate.

‘No, not the pancakes.’ Wes reached into his back pocket. ‘This.’

He held out a brown wristband. It was made from soft leather with a tie string at either end, and a silver pendant in the middle. The pendant was carved into the shape of a sun and set with a tiny yellow jewel. Jac recognised it instantly. His mum had worn it on a silver necklace.

‘I know it’s probably not very cool, or whatever,’ said Wes, passing it across. ‘And you don’t have to—’

‘I love it.’

‘You’re sure? I just thought… Your mum always wore that necklace. I know she would’ve wanted you to have it.’

Jac’s eyes were shining as he stared at the silver sun. He could almost hear his mum’s laughter as the pendant danced and glittered at her neck.

‘It’s brilliant,’ he managed. ‘Thanks, Dad.’

Wes sat back with a look of relief on his face and watched as Jac tied the leather band around his wrist. He took another quick swig of coffee.

‘Listen, I’ve got to pop out this morning. Why don’t you come with me?’

Still looking at the bracelet, Jac shook his head distractedly. ‘Sorry, can’t. I’m meeting someone.’

Wes almost spat his coffee out. ‘Pardon?’

‘Helen, from school. We’re going for a walk.’

There was a long pause. ‘You’re going for a walk.’

Jac looked up, saw the expression on his dad’s face and groaned. ‘Don’t…’

‘A walk. With Helen.’

‘Please don’t do this.’

‘With a girl called Helen?’

‘Stop.’

’What?’ Wes widened his eyes in innocent surprise. ‘I’m only asking. Can’t I ask?’

Jac shovelled pancake into his mouth and glowered as his dad pulled out a seat and sat down opposite.

‘So.’ Wes placed his elbows on the table and steepled his fingers theatrically. ‘What’s she like?’

‘Fine.’

‘And when did the two of you meet?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘Aha. I see.’

‘…Dad!’

‘And you like her?’

‘No!’

‘Oh. You don’t like her?’

‘No! I mean, yes,’ Jac spluttered. ‘I like her, but not… it’s not—’

‘Not what?’ Wes prompted, his smile widening.

Jac shook his head. ‘Why did I tell you? I’m such an idiot.’

His dad laughed. ‘OK, OK, I’m just messing.’ He pushed his chair back. ‘I worry, you know I worry! So it’s… ah, it’s just great to see you making friends!’ He crossed over to where Jac was sitting and wrapped two big arms about him. ‘But you take care, OK? Stay on the paths. Don’t go anywhere near Lowdale Wood.’

‘OK.’

‘I’m serious,’ said Wes. ‘There’s some weird stuff going on at the moment and I don’t want either of you anywhere near it.’

Jac didn’t trust himself to speak, so he just nodded and leant against his dad. They stayed like that for a moment before Wes straightened.

‘Right,’ he said, striding towards the fridge. ‘Juice! You’ll need your energy for this walk.’

CHAPTER 26

Water Lane

Five minutes later, his belly full, Jac pulled on a pair of muddy high-tops, grabbed his mums’ camera and set off toward Helen’s house. Hitching the camera strap over one shoulder, he crossed the lane to a stile in the stone wall, clambered over and set out across a wide, sloping field.

It was a fantastic morning. The sun was still low, sending a blaze of gold flickering through the treetops to dapple the soft grass with light and shadow. Just below the field lay Woolmouth, a sea of crooked rooftops and plump chimney pots. The rolling hills and dales beyond stretched out for miles and miles. There was so much space – he felt as if he could lift his toes and fall into it.

Jac turned his face to the rising sun, feeling its warmth across his skin. He touched a finger to the leather band on his wrist. His mum had always loved sunny days. Happy days, she called them. Sunshine days are happy days.

He remembered laughing as she grabbed his hand and pulled him out of the flat and over the road to the little park, so that they could sit and bask. She would close her eyes, tilt her head and smile up into that golden haze.

She had even dressed in sunshine colours: yellow dresses or orange shirts – the sun-shaped pendant shining bright at her neck. And, towards the end, when her hair started to fall out, she’d wrapped a beautiful russet turban around her head…

Jac closed his eyes.

Maybe Dad had been right, after all: maybe she would have liked Woolmouth.

***

Helen’s house was easy to find – a narrow terrace at the end of Water Lane, with yellow window frames and a bright green door. Jac knocked a neat rhythm and gave a wide smile as the door flew open.

‘What!’

The smile faltered. Before him was a black-eyed warrior: a girl, about fifteen, with short green hair and wearing a long, black jumper. She looked like she was about to hit him with something.

‘Who’re you?’ she demanded.

‘Jenkins. I mean Jac! I’m Jac Jenkins.’ Smooth. He took a breath. ‘Is Helen—’

‘You selling summat?’

‘What? No.’ He took a small step back. ‘Is this number 23?’

‘’Course it’s 23! It sez so right there, can’t you read? Oh wait!’ Her eyes widened and a look of perverse pleasure flashed across her face. ‘Are you looking for Helen? Omigod you are! Wow. That is so tragic.’

She gave him one last, scathing look, and then turned on her heel and walked back inside.

Jac stood on the pavement and swallowed. The door was still open, but he was uncertain what to do next. Should he follow her in, or wait out here? Happily, the decision was made for him when a large Springer Spaniel burst from the house and knocked him over.

‘Barney!’ shouted a familiar voice. ‘Where are you?’

‘Urgh!’ explained Jac, his face full of dog nose. ‘Urbugh!’

‘Oh, hi. Don’t worry – he’s just being friendly.’

‘OK,’ Jac replied from where he lay sprawled in the road. ‘Good.’

With one last slobbery lick, Barney was dragged off. Jac stared at the sky for a moment and then sat up.

‘Come in,’ Helen shouted, wrestling the Spaniel back inside. ‘I need to find his lead. Sorry about my sister, by the way. Mum says she’s at a difficult age – which is, like, parent speak for total cow.’

Struggling to his feet, Jac grabbed his camera from the pavement and followed her inside. ‘Listen,’ he said, walking into the kitchen whilst wiping dog gob off his face. ‘I’ve got to tell you something. Seriously, you are going to—’

He stopped. A woman he didn’t recognise was sitting at a long wooden dining table drinking tea.

‘This is my mum,’ said Helen.

‘Call me Peggy,’ the woman said with a broad smile. ‘I see you’ve already met Barney – sorry about him, blummin’ pain!’

But Jac didn’t reply.

The table was covered in dozens of tiny clay figures. Strangely proportioned and all in different poses, they each had a thick mane of sculpted hair and small, silver eyes. Just like the two creatures that had visited him last night.

‘You alright, love?’ Peggy said.

‘Yeah,’ Jac said vaguely. His eyes drifted down towards the near end of the table, where a sheet of A4 paper had been propped up in front of one of the figures. A single word was written on it: HOBS.

It had been underlined several times in red ink.

CHAPTER 27

Tales of the Hob

Peggy saw the look on Jac’s face and chuckled. ‘D’you like them?’ She held up the figure she was working on.

Jac swallowed. ‘Er—’

‘Oh, don’t get her started!’ said Helen, fastening a leash to Barney’s collar. ‘She’ll start banging on about the little people.’

‘Little… people?’ Jac croaked.

‘The Woolmouth Hobs!’ announced Peggy grandly. ‘It’s for an exhibition. There’s a village art festival coming up and I was thinking of maybe getting involved. You know, Derbyshire Legends and all that.’

Helen looked unimpressed. ‘Yeah, well, your Derbyshire Legends are all over the dinner table, Mum.’

‘England’s full of folk tales,’ Peggy continued, ignoring her. ‘But the ones from around here are different. They’re all about Hobs – little creatures that live underground, singing and dancing and having a grand old time. And, the thing is, people genuinely seemed to believe they were real. Use a cloth, dear.’

Jac, who was wiping sticky hands down his jeans, took the offered cloth. ‘Thanks,’ he mumbled.

‘Local farmers would leave a bowl of cream out on the hearth for them at night,’ continued Peggy. ‘Others left clothes and toys – there are a few that still do, though they won’t admit it…’ Seeing Helen’s knowing smile, Peggy broke off. ‘Yes, OK. I know it’s daft, but I’ve been wanting to sculpt again for a while now, and this is as good an excuse as any. I know it’s a load of old cobblers, but—’

‘They’re incredible,’ Jac said.

Peggy blushed. ‘Oh! They’re just – well, thanks love.’ She cast a faintly bemused look across the table. ‘To be honest, I don’t even know if I’ll enter. The festival’s an open-house trail and most people are more interested in nosing about each other’s living rooms than they are in the art.’ She lifted a hand, gesturing at the tiny kitchen. ‘I can’t imagine too many people cramming into this place. There’s not enough room to swing a cat!’

‘What about ours?’ Jac said. ‘Our garden’s easy big enough.’

‘Yours?’ Peggy shook her head. ‘Oh no, I don’t think—’

‘No, really – my dad would love it. I know he would!’

‘Really?’

‘You should ask him,’ Jac nodded. ‘Definitely.’

‘Yeah?’ Peggy smiled. ‘Well. Maybe I will at that.’

Helen groaned. ‘Oh, well done, Jac!’

***

Twenty minutes later, walking between lopsided gravestones in the village churchyard, Helen’s knowing smile had long vanished.

‘You can’t be serious!’

‘They were like, two feet tall! I couldn’t see much more because—’

‘They’re REAL?’

‘Yes, they were—’

‘Hobs? Hobs are real?’

‘They were in my garden.’

‘Come on! Little hairy people? You’ve got to be—’

She broke off as an elderly man and his daughter walked by on the path. The woman flicked them an odd glance as she passed, and Helen waited until they’d left the churchyard before speaking again.

‘Well, don’t tell Mum, whatever you do – she’ll be unbearable.’

They heard more voices approaching along the path and so they turned to head into the oldest part of the grounds. Barney ran ahead of them, scampering between ivy-choked tombstones and stone angels. The back of the cemetery was an overgrown mess of bushes, trees and nettles that ended abruptly at a steep precipice: an old brick wall that dropped more than ten feet to the meadow below.

They sat down on the edge of the wall, their feet kicking out over moss-covered bricks, and Jac told Helen all about his midnight visitation from two small, furry beings called Thomus and JonJon. As he spoke, Barney stretched himself out on the grass beside them and closed his eyes.

Helen didn’t interrupt once; she just sat staring out over the sun-dappled meadow below. When Jac had finished, he reached into his pocket and held out the folded letterhead.

‘This is what they left me,’ he said.

Helen didn’t reply.

‘It just says Thorn Incorporated,’ Jac persevered. ‘I think I’ve heard the name, but can’t remember—’

‘The quarry,’ Helen interrupted. She gave a slight shake of her head, as if coming out of a daze. ‘Thorn Incorporated owns the quarry.’

Jac stared at her. Of course! He’d been too tired to remember it last night, but now he could see it, crystal clear in his head: Thorn Inc. It had been printed on the sign by the guardhouse. ‘So this is – some company dug the ship out?’

Helen nodded. ‘I guess.’

‘Which means they released the Rangda.’ He frowned at the creased logo. ‘But why would – hey!’

Helen, who had just plucked the letterhead from Jac’s hand, ignored him. She studied the logo for a moment and then drew out her phone. ‘Right,’ she said, tapping into it. ‘Thorn Incorporated. Thorn…’

She scrolled down. ‘OK. Here it is. Used to be called the Thorn Institute. First registered in…’ She squinted at the screen. ‘1931? That is old. What else? Based in Paris. At the Triteon on Rue de Moutarde. Um, and…’ she frowned. ‘Huh.’

‘What?’

‘Thorn’s a person.’

Jac blinked and looked over Helen’s shoulder. ‘Huh?’

‘Professor Thorn. Some sort of archaeologist. The company must belong to her.’

‘OK.’ Jac leant back. ‘So, it was an archaeological dig. They must’ve found the ship and – what? Released the creatures by mistake?’

‘Yeah, maybe.’ Helen puffed out her cheeks and exhaled a long breath of air before passing the sheet back to Jac. ‘This is so crazy. I couldn’t sleep a wink last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw those things. All crooked, pressed up against the glass, clawing at me.’ She shivered slightly, and then leant forward so that her hair hung across her face. ‘And now…’

‘Hobs.’

‘Hobs! And they want us to keep it all secret.’

Jac folded the letterhead and pinned the spiral clasp onto the corner. ‘Pretty much, yeah.’

Helen turned to him, eyes wide. ‘But can we really do that? I mean – what if those things get out again? We can’t just do nothing! What’s the plan here? Did they say anything else?’

‘Actually,’ replied Jac, as he tucked the paper into his pocket and took a deep breath, ‘there is something else.’

Helen frowned. ‘OK…’

A flicker of nervous energy was tickling across Jac’s skin. He felt his fingers twitch, and clenched his hand into a tight fist before looking up into Helen’s eyes. ‘Remember the red lightning I told you about?’

‘That hit you?’

‘Yeah. Well, those two Hobs saw it happen. And they have a name for it. Elemental.’ He paused before adding, ‘And it’s still inside me.’

‘You…’ She raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’

‘It’s some sort of power, or energy,’ said Jac. ‘I don’t know. But it’s here – in me. And they think I can use it to stop those things leaving the ship, but I don’t… I don’t know how.’

‘It’s still in you?’ Helen sat up. ‘Are you joking?’

‘I can feel it.’ Jac put his hand to his chest. ‘I can feel it all the time.’

Helen stared at him for a long time. ‘Jac,’ she said finally, ‘that’s – OW!’

A small, round stone had just thumped off the side of Helen’s head. She recoiled and brought her hands up to her face as Jac twisted around.

Three figures were approaching from the church. There were wide smirks on their faces and trouble in their eyes. Jac scrambled to his feet as they approached.

‘Eyup Town Mouse,’ said Tyler Butcher, his smile growing. ‘We’ve been looking for you.’

CHAPTER 28

The Butcher Brothers

Jac glanced around, looking for someone, anyone, who might help. But this part of the graveyard was empty and the wall was too high to jump down. They were trapped.

Helen grabbed his arm and used it to pull herself up. She was shaking; there was a cut in her forehead, and a thin line of blood trickled down her pale face.

‘Are you OK?’ Jac said. ‘Should we phone your—’

‘IDIOTS!’

He stopped talking. She seemed fine.

‘MORONS!’

‘Uh-oh,’ said Tyler, drawing to a halt. ‘Penniless Parker looks upset.’

‘Ah! Bless,’ laughed Baz, beside him. ‘D’you reckon they’re on a date?’

‘Yeah!’ joined Daz gleefully. ‘A date in the graveyard!’

‘Must’ve been Parker’s idea. Probably all she can afford.’

Helen held Barney’s lead in one hand and touched at her head with the other.

‘Do shut up,’ she said, wincing.

Tyler laughed. ‘And what if we don’t, eh? Penniless?’

Jac clenched his fists. ‘That’s not her name.’

‘What’d you say?’ Baz said. He strode forwards and drove a large hand into Jac’s chest, sending him sprawling back onto the grass. A hard kick to the ribs quickly followed. Pain pushed the air from Jac’s lungs, making him choke and gasp for breath.

‘What’s your name, then?’ the boy jeered. ‘Orphan Annie?’

‘Stop it!’ Helen cried angrily, keeping Barney on a taut lead. ‘Leave us alone. My mum’s with us, she’s in the church. She’ll—’

‘Don’t bother,’ Tyler smiled. ‘I know your mum’s not here. And I wouldn’t care if she was.’ He turned back to where Jac was lying on the ground. ‘I told you this wasn’t over.’

‘Ty! Look at what the new kid dropped!’

Baz was holding something up by its strap and Tyler’s eyes glittered when he saw it. He held out a hand. ‘Bring it here!’

Jac stared up in dismay; it was his mum’s SLR camera. He’d only brought the thing so that Helen could have a proper go, and now he was going to lose it to the Moron Brothers. He would’ve kicked himself, if Baz hadn’t already done it for him.

‘Hey,’ he wheezed, struggling to rise. ‘That’s mine!’

Baz pushed him back down with one foot and then leant down, putting all of his not insubstantial weight onto Jac’s chest.

‘Wrong.’ His little eyes sparkled with excitement. He stayed a moment longer, giggling, and then straightened up and turned away.

Deep down, Jac knew that he should probably just stay where he was and let them keep the thing. It wasn’t worth the hassle; after all, it was only a camera…

Correction, he thought, narrowing his eyes. It was mum’s camera.

With a heave, he launched himself up and forwards, barrelling into the back of Baz and taking him totally by surprise. There was a loud wail of alarm as the boy pitched forwards, face first into a muddy puddle, and Jac managed to snatch the camera before anyone could react.

Tyler lurched forwards. ‘I warned you, Town Mouse!’ he growled, grabbing hold of Jac’s hoodie. In one swift movement, he dragged Jac to the edge of the brick wall and held him out over the brink.

‘Tyler, NO!’ Helen ran forward, her eyes wide with shock. Daz grabbed her arm as she passed, pulling her back so that she fell painfully on the grass. Barney was yanked back on his lead. He gave a low bark.

‘Keep your mutt away from me,’ Daz warned as he turned away. ‘Or I’ll chuck him over an’ all.’ He pulled Baz up from the mud and, together, they went to join their older brother.

Tyler’s grip was like a vice. ‘Camera. Now.’

Jac kicked out with his feet, but could find no purchase on the wall. Looking down, he saw ivy-covered bricks falling away below him and a long drop into a scrabble of nettles below.

‘You want me to let go?’ Tyler said, his voice deadly serious. Baz loomed up beside him, an angry round face smeared with mud, whilst Daz grabbed the camera and started to pry it loose. Jac struggled against them, but it was no good: he could feel his grip on the strap slipping, saw Tyler’s grim smile.

And then a sudden jolt of electricity spasmed through his arm…

CLICK!

…And everything went quiet.

Tyler’s grip loosened slightly and Jac took the opportunity to pull his jacket free and clamber back onto firm ground. He found himself nose to nose with the brothers and almost stepped back again.

‘Let it go!’ he shouted, yanking his camera free from Daz’s grip.

But Daz didn’t react. In fact, he didn’t even move. Jac moved to one side with a puzzled frown. He could hear his own breathing, harsh and ragged. There were no other sounds. The brothers stared ahead in silence.

Three pairs of arms were still reaching towards the precipice, but they were stiff and unmoving. Three faces were still twisted into ugly snarls, but their features were frozen.

The Butcher brothers had turned into statues.

CHAPTER 29

Freeze Frame

‘I think you… did something.’

Helen was standing with her hands clutched to her chest, her eyes were wide. ‘There was a red flash from the camera and they…’ She shook her head. ‘They just stopped.’

Beside her, Barney let out a low whine.

Jac turned back. It was true: the Butchers were still set in the same positions. Still reaching out over the wall. Still clutching at air, but unmoving. Like a photograph.

Slowly, he reached out a hand towards Baz, the nearest brother. He pressed a finger against his shoulder and watched as the boy rocked lightly back and forth.

What is happening…

‘OK.’ Helen’s voice cut across the air and Jac pulled his hand back. ‘We need to get out of here.’

Jac blinked at her. ‘What?’

‘Now. Come on.’

‘But, I mean, shouldn’t I do something?’

Helen frowned. ‘Like what?’

He took a few steps back from the ledge and shouldered his camera. ‘I don’t know.’

‘Right. So let’s go. Quickly.’

He turned to face her. ‘I can’t just leave them here.’

‘Jac, we don’t have time,’ replied Helen. ‘There are more important things at stake right now! And besides, we don’t know how long they’ll even—’ She broke off and looked past him. Jac heard a rustle of movement.

‘What!’

‘WHAT?’

‘He’s gone!’

Jac turned. The three brothers appeared to be back to normal. They were huddled together, peering down over the wall.

‘Looking for me?’ he said quietly.

Three round heads turned to stare at him.

Baz almost fell back over the edge. He pointed a quivering finger. ‘WITCH!’

Daz was frowning so hard it looked like he might strain something. ‘But, you, that’s…’ he spluttered. ‘I was here and you was here and… now I’m here and you’re there!’

Tyler straightened up very slowly. He looked back at the drop and then at Jac. He didn’t speak; he simply stared, eyes narrowed.

‘I feel sick,’ announced Baz.

‘Yeah.’ Daz was already moving towards the path. ‘Come on, Ty. I don’t like this.’

The two younger brothers loped unsteadily away, casting nervous glances back as they went. Only Tyler stayed where he was.

‘What was that?’ he said finally, eyes still fixed on Jac.

Helen took a step forwards. She was holding Barney on a tight leash, a bright smear of blood across her forehead.

‘Careful, Tyler,’ she said. ‘Your brothers are leaving you behind.’

Tyler jabbed a finger in her face. ‘You—’

She grabbed his finger and bent it back. Tyler screamed and snatched his hand away.

Helen took another step forwards. ‘Don’t threaten me, Tyler Butcher,’ she said fiercely. ‘Because, you know what? I’ve seen scary. Proper scary.’ Leaning forwards, she put her face up to his. ‘And you’re not it.’

Tyler opened his mouth to reply, but a low growl from Barney cut him off. He glanced down nervously and then back up into Helen’s eyes. What he saw there made him flinch.

‘This…’ he stammered. ‘This isn’t—’

‘Run,’ Helen said, her voice dangerously calm.

Tyler backed away, stumbling, almost falling. ‘You – just watch yourselves!’ he shouted, then turned and hastened towards the church gate and his brothers.

Helen watched until they’d all disappeared from view and then spun to face Jac. He almost flinched.

‘So,’ she said, eyes blazing. ‘You weren’t kidding.’

Jac looked down. He didn’t know what to say. It had happened again – the same as with his history book, the same as with those wires. The red lightning had taken over. He was a freak. A monster. He was out of control and now Helen was probably terrified.

Admittedly, she didn’t look terrified…

He took a deep breath. ‘Look, I didn’t know that was going to happen. All of this – it’s what I was trying to tell you before. There’s something wrong with me. I’m—’

‘Incredible!’

He frowned. ‘What?’

‘That! That was so cool! How did you do it?’

‘Wait, you mean… you’re not freaked out?’

‘Freaked out?’ Helen laughed. ‘Are you serious? Of course I am! But this – what did the Hobs call it? The Elemental? This is amazing!’ She widened her eyes. ‘Dude! You’ve got powers. You’re a superhero!’

‘Yeah?’ Jac began to smile and then stopped. ‘Except, I don’t have a clue how to—’

‘This is SO cool!’ Helen grabbed his arm. ‘C’mon, let’s find out what you can do!’

CHAPTER 30

Thorn Incorporated

It was raining in Paris.

The driver drew up alongside a puddled pavement, cranked the handbrake and glanced into the rear view mirror with heavy-lidded eyes.

‘Nous voilà,’ he grunted. ‘Rue de Moutarde.’

He leant forwards over his steering wheel to peer out through the wet windscreen. A tall, graffiti-covered wall ran alongside the pavement. ‘Er – you are sure this is correct address?’

His passenger ignored him. Of course she did – she hadn’t spoken for the entire journey. The driver started to lean back, but froze as a sudden cracking sound filled the car. The woman was uncrossing her legs. He winced. It sounded like snapping twigs. Talk about stiff joints!

As the woman stepped into the rain, the driver shrugged and reached into his glovebox for a boiled sweet. He froze, arm still extended, to stare down at the thick wad of money that had just landed in his lap.

‘Non, madame, c’est trop – this is too much. Just to drive from the airport?’

The woman ducked her head in through his open window, bringing her face close to his own.

‘Correct,’ she said.

‘Ha!’

The woman drew even nearer, her eyes burning. ‘That, and forget it ever happened.’

The black Citroen accelerated away in a grinding of gears as Professor Thorn walked up to the wrought iron gates at the front of her property.

They were rusted and covered in ivy, but the faded gold title across the top was still legible. Water dripped from the ornate lettering:

- L’institut Thorn -

The gates opened with an angry squeal and the Professor stepped into the overgrown grounds. An old chateaux rose up through the rain. Its windows boarded, its blackened stonework worn and cracked.

She strode jerkily along the cobbled courtyard towards a doorway. With a brief glance back at the gates to make sure that there was no one about, she stepped into the sheltered porch and held up her hand. A tiny shrill emitted from the ring on her finger and the heavy, metal door swung open.

It was dark inside. A deep, hollow darkness that seemed to tumble on and on into a huge, gasping void. She stepped into it. The door closed behind her with a solid thunk, instantly muffling the sound of the rain.

Professor Thorn paused, her face tilted to one side. She stayed perfectly still, a pale mask hanging in shadow. She was listening for something. Something very faint.

There.

Her grip on the silver case tightened, making her finger joints crack.

And then she was moving again, sweeping through the empty lobby in a billow of coattails and clicking joints. Dust bloomed across the floor, swirling in her wake as she passed.

For this building was not as dormant as it seemed. A distant, throbbing hum pushed through the walls like a heartbeat. And when the Professor opened the doors onto a great hall, the hum grew significantly louder.

It was coming from the attic.

CHAPTER 31

Trial and Error

‘OK.’ Helen carefully placed a plastic triceratops and stood back. ‘Go!’

They were in the yard behind Helen’s house: a small patch of cracked concrete surrounded by low, brick walls. Jac stood beside the back door, looking down toward the far end, where a plastic chair had been positioned beside the wall. The toy dinosaur was standing on the cushion.

He felt a bit silly.

‘What should I do?’

Helen had retreated to stand behind the collection bins. ‘Blow it up!’ she shouted.

He raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m trying to control the power, not blow stuff up.’

‘Oh.’ Helen sagged slightly. ‘OK. Well, just see what happens, then.’

Jac turned back to the chair. Right, he thought, staring at the toy dinosaur. Focus. He felt the flush of energy in his chest and opened his mind to it.

Focus.

A warm shiver ran through his body. The energy seemed to be responding. Was this actually going to work?

Focus.

Slowly, Jac held up one hand. He closed his eyes and pictured the dinosaur. He breathed in and felt his fingers twitch…

‘What are you doing?’

Jac spun to see a girl. She was standing at the back door, glaring at him; it was a glare he recognised.

‘Why are you standing with your arm out?’ said Kat.

He quickly dropped his hand. ‘Erm—’

‘Are you mentally ill?’

Helen stepped out from the bins. ‘Hey, Kat, you remember Jac. He’s—’

‘Like I care?’ snapped the older girl. ‘Listen, I’m not a babysitter, so whenever you two are finished playing make believe, there’s food in the fridge.’

‘Where’s Mum?’ said Helen, joining her sister at the back door.

Kat jerked her head at Jac. ‘At his house, with his dad.’

Jac frowned. ‘What’s she doing there?’

The girl’s glare intensified. ‘What d’you think, moron? The village art trail’s coming up and apparently someone had the bright idea of my mum using their garden.’

‘Oh.’ Remembering his conversation with Peggy earlier that day, Jac nodded. ‘OK.’

‘No, actually. Not OK.’ Kat moved closer and jabbed a hard finger into his chest. ‘Just because your dad’s single, doesn’t mean he gets to try it on with my mum. That is so not happening!’

Jac took a step back as that comment blossomed painfully through his brain. His dad wasn’t single. What was she thinking? Why would she say that? The fist clenched in his chest.

Kat stayed a beat longer, eyes blazing fiercely, then turned and stomped back indoors. ‘Make another sound and I’ll lock you both out!’ she shouted, before slamming the door with a glass-rattling bang. Seconds later, the sound of very loud music filled the air.

‘My sister, ladies and gentlemen!’ Helen said, swooping her hands theatrically toward the closed door and giving a small curtsy. ‘Guaranteed to be a delight at any occasion.’

She flashed a tight smile before turning to trot back down the yard towards the chair. ‘And don’t worry,’ she called, ‘pretty sure my mum’s only interested in your dad’s garden!’

‘What?’

‘Joking!’ she snorted.

‘Oh! Yes, I…’

‘Right.’ Helen moved the dinosaur up onto the wall. ‘Let’s try again.’

She glanced back when Jac didn’t reply. ‘You ready?’

‘Yes…’ he said hesitantly. ‘Yeah. We’ll find it.’

Helen shook her head. ‘Find what?’

But Jac didn’t answer. He was staring straight ahead, a blank look on his face. ‘OK,’ he said again. ‘Right… See you later.’

After a moment, Helen walked back towards him. ‘Jac,’ she said slowly. ‘Who are you talking to?’

He blinked twice and then looked back at her with bright, clear eyes. ‘That was him.’

‘Him?’

‘Thomus.’

‘The Hob?’

Jac nodded.

‘So, what… they’re phoning you up now?’ said Helen.

‘I could hear him, clear as day. But, here...’ Jac tapped his head. ‘In my mind.’

‘How does that work?’

Jac frowned and then reached into his pocket. He drew out the small metal spiral, held it up and squinted at it. ‘I don’t think this is a paperclip.’ He stared at it for a moment and then, in a swift motion, thrust it back into his pocket and started moving. ‘Come on!’ He grabbed Helen’s wrist as he walked past. ‘We need to go.’

She turned in a bewildered circle. ‘Go?’ she echoed. ‘Go where?’

‘Something called Barton’s Mill,’ said Jac, pulling her out through the gate. ‘No idea why. Hoping you know the way!’

CHAPTER 32

An Audience with The Queen

Barton’s Mill was a ruin. Abandoned in 1926, it had quickly been reclaimed by nature. All that remained now were a few moss-covered walls jutting up through the trees at the edge of Lowdale Wood.

Jac stared down at it from the top of a steep bank. ‘And you’re sure this is the right place?’ he said.

‘For the third time, yes,’ Helen snapped. ‘You said Barton’s Mill. This is Barton’s Mill.’ She trotted on down the uneven path and, after a moment, Jac followed.

At the bottom was a footbridge leading over a gently babbling brook. They clomped across and stepped into the shadow of the trees. Jac felt the world go silent and a flicker of unease ran through him. They were back in Lowdale Wood; exactly where his dad had told him not to go.

‘I’ve only been to Barton’s once before,’ Helen said, following the path into the woods. ‘Mum doesn’t like it, says it feels haunted.’ She slowed as they approached the mill. It was a dark, crooked ruin. Empty windows leered at them from broken walls and the ground was scattered with ancient stones, all but hidden beneath the grass.

‘Can’t imagine why,’ Jac muttered.

Helen stopped beneath an old chestnut tree. ‘Now what?’ she said.

Jac shrugged. He glanced around and was about to reply, when a voice boomed out from above.

‘Took yer long enough!’

They looked up to see two silver eyes glinting amongst the leaves. There was a rustle, and the creature jumped down, hitting the ground with a light thump.

‘AAAARGH!’ Helen clamped both hands to her mouth. ‘God, sorry!’ she added, looking mortified. ‘That was really rude.’

‘S’alright,’ grunted Thomus. ‘Fust time ah saw one o’ you lot, ah screamed an’ all.’

The Hob was small, no bigger than a tree stump, and covered in thick, brown hair. He wore a faded Miss Piggy T-shirt that looked like it had been fished out of a bin (possibly because it had) and a pair of mustard yellow trousers. Bright eyes peered out from beneath a shock of wild hair that surrounded his face like a lion’s mane.

‘Yer reet, youth?’ he said, nodding at Jac. ‘Thot ah told yeh to kip tha mouth shut. Who’s yer mate?’

‘Oh. Um. This is—’

‘Helen!’ She gave a small wave. ‘I was with him on the spaceship.’

Thomus looked at her for a moment and then raised his arm. He prodded at a small device strapped to his wrist, peered at it for a moment and then nodded.

‘Eyup,’ he said, speaking into his wrist. ‘Ah’ve got ’im. An’ there’s another here an’ all.’

The two children exchanged a look.

‘Raight.’ Thomus glanced up. ‘Step back.’

A low, creaking noise began to rise up from the ground and it took Jac a moment to realise what was happening. It took him a while longer to actually believe it.

The roots of the chestnut tree were beginning to move, as if they were slowly stretching out after a long sleep. Thick, brown limbs unfurled and extended and, as they spread, they pulled the ground apart to reveal a large, round hole. By the time the creaking stopped, the hole was about six feet across.

Jac waited a moment before moving carefully forwards. He squatted down by the opening and peered inside. There were lots of different shadows, sprinkled with tiny flickers of orange light, but everything seemed slightly hazy. It didn’t make sense. He squinted, willing his eyes to focus, and then…

‘Narrowdark,’ said Thomus.

‘Oh God!’ Helen was standing beside him. ‘Is that… are those houses?’

Jac looked again and felt his knees go weak. She was right; he was looking down into a vast cavern. The flickers of light were coming from domed structures – hundreds and hundreds of them, all jumbled together across an undulating canyon floor. From up here, they looked like upturned cauldrons.

‘It’s a city!’ he murmured.

Great plumes of steam rose up from hidden streets, and with them came a tantalising waft of spices and wood smoke. Jac’s senses were reeling; it was like catching a glimpse into another world.

And then a pale circle emerged from the shadows: a platform. It was rising up from the subterranean metropolis on chain pulleys. As it approached, Jac could see three figures onboard, as well as a metal chest and something wrapped in a stained blanket.

He quickly climbed to his feet and stepped back as the dais clunked solidly into place amongst the roots of the chestnut tree.

Two Hobs stood before them in the dim light. The third sat behind a wide dashboard at the back. This one was slightly larger than the others and was wearing brown dungarees over a thick, blue jumper.

‘Aah-do, youth!’ he called, giving a cheery wave.

‘Shurrup, JonJon!’ This from the small, stooped figure standing at the front of the platform. He squinted out at the sheltered nook from beneath a hooded cloak, his bright eyes full of suspicion. ‘Wer thi followed?’

‘No.’ Thomus pointed to the strap on his wrist. ‘Weyer on us own.’

The hooded figure grunted, still scanning the trees. Finally, his eyes flicked onto Jac. ‘This ’im?’

Thomus nodded.

‘So, this is wurrit comes tuh.’ The Hob stepped off the dais and approached the two children. ‘Hoomans.’ He glared up at them. ‘We ain’t had direct dealin’s wi’ your sort fer years.’

Jac blinked down. Unsure what else to do, he half-raised a hand in greeting. ‘Alright?’ he said.

‘Ah’m Raven,’ said the Hob. ‘Adviser to the chosen Queen, an’ chief of security for the kingdom. Our city is under attack. Our people dying. Our very existence in danger.’ He threw back his hood with a flick of the hand, revealing a mop of grey fur, and fixed Jac with a hard stare. ‘So, no lad. Ah’m not alright.’

‘Raven.’

The voice was soft, yet that single word carried an irrefutable sense of authority. Raven bowed his head as the second figure stepped forward from the dais. She was dressed in a pink cloak which ran down over pale clothes. A thin, gold circle glinted from amongst her mane.

As she approached, Jac noticed a line of faded cartoon animals printed across the inside of her cloak, and he spoke without thinking. ‘That’s Pepper Pig.’

He looked up to find her studying him. ‘Sorry, I didn’t mean…’

The Queen smiled. ‘Much of our clothing comes from up here. Villagers, those who know of us, leave gift packages by the woods. It’s an old tradition, but one that serves us well. Please,’ she added. ‘Sit.’ Her accent was slightly more refined, more regal, than the others, but there was still a local tilt to her words.

Feeling a little numb, Jac slumped down onto the grass.

‘I imagine this must be a lot to take in.’ The Queen glanced across towards Helen, who came to sit beside them. ‘For both of you.’

Slowly, the Queen settled down by the roots of the trees and crossed her legs. ‘But time is short, so I’ll come straight to it.’ She leant back slightly, appraising Jac. ‘Thomus told me about you. About what he thinks he saw.’

Jac, still staring at her, gave a slight nod. ‘The red light,’ he croaked. ‘The Elemental.’

Raven snorted.

The Queen tilted her head. ‘Perhaps.’

Jac frowned.

‘I know what you’ve been told.’ She glanced at Thomus, but the Hob was turned away, apparently watching the trees for movement. She turned back to the two puzzled children with a sigh. ‘Do either of you know what the Elemental actually is?’

Jac shrugged. ‘It’s like – a power?’

The Queen shook her head. ‘The Light has many names… the Undying, the Infernarul, the Elemental… On this planet, you had another name for it. You called it Magic.’

A soft breeze flittered through the clearing and Jac felt the hairs on the back of his neck stand up. ‘Magic?’ he echoed softly.

‘We’ve lived here long enough to learn your legends,’ said the Queen. ‘All those stories of witches and wizards, gods and heroes… they are all part of what makes you human. They connect you to your world. You see, the Light is more than just power, much more. It’s the soul of the planet. The wonder. It flows through everything and everyone.’

‘It flows through him,’ insisted Helen. ‘I’ve seen it.’

‘Cobblers,’ Raven muttered.

The Queen raised a hand and her adviser fell silent. But when she looked up, there was a sad smile on her face. ‘I’m sorry to tell you this,’ she said finally. ‘But Earth’s Light is gone.’

CHAPTER 33

The Vard

‘Gone?’ Jac stared at the Queen in confusion. ‘But, that doesn’t make sense. How can it be gone?’

‘It was taken,’ she said. ‘Almost two thousand years ago. All you have left are those old stories. Fractured memories of a forgotten truth. This planet, like so many, has been robbed of its wonder, by the Vard.’

Helen shook her head. ‘I don’t understand.’

With a small movement, the Queen gestured up at the sky. ‘This little world of yours is part of a very, very big galaxy. And that galaxy is dominated by a single race of beings. An ancient civilisation called the Vard. They discovered, long ago, how to strip the Elemental Light from planets like this and weaponise it.’

‘What, you mean they’ve been here? To Earth?’ asked Helen.

‘Long back. A time your historians still refer to as the Dark Ages.’ The Queen gave a humourless laugh. ‘If only they knew how fitting that title was. The chaos and damage caused by the Vard drew a cloud over all human history and left a scar that can never heal. They truly are a curse.’

‘Wait,’ said Helen, leaning forwards. ‘So, you’re saying that all those old storybooks, all those fairy tales about witches and wizards – they’re true. Magic is real?’

‘In essence.’

‘And these Vard – they stole it?’

‘Aye,’ spat Raven. ‘An’ be thankful that’s all they took!’

‘But what about me?’ demanded Jac. ‘What about the red lightning? My powers?’

The Queen turned to fix him with a shrewd look. ‘Well, quite,’ she said crisply. ‘What about you? Is it possible there was a trace of light left below the rock? That the Vard were driven away before completing a full excavation? After all, humans are an exceptionally aggressive species.’

Helen nodded vigorously and was about to speak, when the Queen lifted a hand. ‘Or,’ she continued, her eyes locked on Jac, ‘could it be that what struck you was not the Elemental Light? That it was, in fact, something else entirely. Something… unknown.’

Jac released a breath he didn’t realise he’d been holding. ‘Unknown?’

‘Our forefathers crash-landed that ship more than two hundred years ago,’ said the Queen. ‘Generations of Hobs have lived and died since then, and much has been forgotten.’ She leant back. ‘There are many things hidden away in that old vessel that are a mystery even to us.’

Raven grunted. ‘Enough philosophisin’, let’s get towit.’

He turned abruptly and walked away. Unsure of what was happening, Jac watched the old Hob stomp over to the ruins of Barton’s Mill. A cold trickle ran through his stomach. Whatever was about to happen, he was pretty certain it wasn’t anything good.

‘See this?’ Raven kicked at an old stone lintel, half-buried in the grass. ‘Float it up in’t air.’

Jac blinked.

‘A true Elemental Warrior is a force o’ nature,’ continued Raven. ‘Able to do owt. Yeh reckon yeh’ve got that sort o’ power? Then show us. Lift the stone.’

The clearing had suddenly become very silent. Helen turned to Jac with wide eyes. Beside her, the Queen was also watching him closely. It was as if everyone were holding their breath. Waiting.

Jac swallowed and looked across. The lintel was huge; a moss-covered block of gritstone, jutting out from the nettles. It looked impossibly heavy.

Raven spat into the grass. ‘We’re on th’ clock ’ere, boy.’

A small trickle of sweat ran down Jac’s neck as he tried to gather his thoughts. He’d never actually controlled the power; it had always just – happened. He closed his eyes and tried to focus. However, the Queen’s words echoed through his mind:

All those stories of witches and wizards, of gods and heroes…

You called it magic…

But Earth’s Light is gone.

No. Jac clenched his fists. Come on! Show them. Focus.

He forced himself to think about the stone lintel. The dead weight. The feel of rough grit against his fingers... A shiver of energy ran through his bones. He reached for it and felt something respond. Something… But what?

The Elemental is gone. Stolen. So what is it? What’s inside me? Is it something bad, something dangerous? What if—

‘Enough.’

Jac opened his eyes to see Raven striding towards him.

‘Wait!’ he said. ‘Just – just give me a minute.’

‘We dun’t have a minute.’ The Hob stopped before him, eyes hard as flint. ‘Can yeh lift the stone or no?’

Jac looked into those eyes and then away to the buried lintel. The energy fizzed inside him. A restless, nameless, directionless thing. Finally, he looked away.

‘Thut as much.’ Raven turned towards the Queen. ‘Mebbe eh ’as got th’ Light, mebbe not. But either way, eh can’t control it. An’ that meks ’im more dangerous than the chuffin’ Rangda.’

‘That’s not true!’ Helen protested. ‘We can help. Ask your ship. Ask Bob.’

The Queen made no reply. Her gaze stayed on Jac, her expression unreadable. Finally, she climbed to her feet.

‘We can’t,’ she said flatly. ‘The ship is inactive. The Central Stem, her power source, is gone. Stolen, by whoever released the Rangda.’

Helen shook her head. ‘But, what if—’

‘Raven,’ said the Queen, ignoring her. ‘A moment.’ She turned without another word and walked out of the clearing.

***

‘Well, I mucked that up,’ Jac said.

He was watching the Queen and her adviser as they stood talking beside an old, ivy-covered wall. However, they were leant in close and their conversation was inaudible from this distance. With a deep sigh, Jac flopped back onto the grass.

‘Not yer fault,’ said Thomus. ‘Raven’s gorra reet cob on.’

‘Yeah, he’s right, though,’ Jac muttered, staring up at the sky. ‘If I can’t control the Light, what use am I?’

‘But it wasn’t fair!’ Helen protested. ‘He just kept shouting.’

JonJon spoke up from behind them. ‘Eh’s angry. We lost more people this mornin’ an’ eh blames hissen.’ He was dragging the large, covered shape off the dais. Reaching down, he grabbed the stained blanket and yanked it away. Jac propped himself up on his elbows as a dead Rangda rolled limply onto the grass. Huge, lumpen and misshaped, it hissed gently in the dim light.

‘We bring ’em up ’ere to get rid,’ grunted JonJon. ‘This’un killed near thotteen before we copped it.’ He kicked the dark form, pushing it towards a glittering shaft of sunlight. ‘Two o’wem were no more’n kids.’ He kicked again, then quickly stepped back as the lifeless cyborg burst into flames. Everyone watched in silence as it flickered away to ash.

‘What are they?’ Helen said quietly.

‘Bio-mechanical weapons,’ Thomus said. ‘The Vard use ’em to clear planets before minin’ fer the Elemental.’

‘Clear… planets?’

‘Like ah said before, there’s more to ’em than jus’ teeth an’ claws.’ Thomus nodded at the smoking pile of cinders. ‘They’re a virus. A transferable, pre-programmed virus. One bite frum a Rangda an’ yer whole system’s overrun wi’ nanotech. You,’ he pointed at Jac, ‘become like them. An’ before anyone knows wha’s going’ on,’ Thomus said, now pointing his finger at Helen, ‘yeh start bitin’ people. Spreadin’ the corruption ’til theyer’s no one left.’

Helen swallowed and shuffled back slightly.

Thomus scratched at his mane. ‘When the Vard come knockin’, they dun’ muck about. All sorts o’ cyber horrors get released. It softens up the locals – gives ’em summit to focus on whilst they mine fer Light.’

‘And that happened here,’ Jac said numbly. ‘On Earth.’

Thomus nodded.

‘But that’s…’ Helen shook her head. ‘I mean, why don’t we remember all this?’

‘Course yeh remember,’ said Thomus. ‘Every culture on’t planet remembers. Ogres, werewolves, dragons, trolls – where d’yeh think all that comes from? They’re all real, all based on bio-weapons. And the Rangda? Come on! Pale skin, big teeth, allergic to sunlight.’

‘Oh!’ Helen gasped. ‘You mean…’

‘Ar,’ Thomus nodded, ‘the V word.’

Helen opened her mouth to reply, but then closed it again.

‘Weyer immune to their bite,’ Thomus continued. ‘Bob spiked their nanotech before freezin’ ’em, so the venom dun’ affect us. But you lot,’ he nodded at the children, ‘yeh defenceless.’

‘Tha’s why yeh couldn’t tell no one,’ added JonJon. ‘Sendin’ hoomans in theyer’d jus’ be fuel t’ fire.’

Thomus sighed. ‘Which means it’s all on us. An’ between you an’ me, ah dun’ think the Queen knows whut to do. Tha’s why she’s up ’ere. Despite everthin’ ah reckon she still believes you’re the answer. A real-life Elemental Warrior come tuh save us all.’

Jac stared at the swaying branches above. ‘Except I’m not,’ he said quietly.

A sudden murmur of raised voices made him sit up; the Queen was returning. Raven followed a few paces behind and he didn’t look happy.

‘JonJon,’ she said as she swept past him, ‘bring the chest.’

He nodded and ran to drag the metal casket down off the dais.

Jac scrambled to his feet as she approached. ‘Miss… um, Queen,’ he stammered. ‘Please, there must be something I can do. I want to help. We both do.’

‘And so you can,’ the Queen replied briskly.

JonJon pitched the chest down beside Jac with a thud. ‘Eyr ye go,’ he said, stepping back. ‘Roverdroids.’

Jac crouched down, examining the chest. ‘What are Roverdroids?’

The Queen was watching him. ‘Last night, Thomus gave you a mark,’ she said. ‘A branded paper. Did you discover its source?’

Helen nodded. ‘Thorn Industries. It’s a person – a professor. Only, we think she might be in Paris.’

‘Good.’ The Queen gestured towards the metal chest. ‘Use the droids. Find this professor. If she released the Rangda, then it’s clear she also stole the Central Stem. The Stem is Bob’s primary power source; an energy cell made up of compressed sunlight. There’s nothing else like it on the planet. Get that back and we may yet save the ship.’

Jac looked back at the box. ‘But, how—’

‘Thomus will show you,’ said the Queen. ‘But hurry. I need the Stem in my hands before dawn.’

‘Dawn?’ Helen echoed. ‘What happens at dawn?’

‘Enough rattle.’ Raven turned and stomped back onto the dais. ‘Wey’re wastin’ time up ’ere.’

JonJon hurried over to settle himself at the control panel and the pair of them waited patiently as the Queen walked across the clearing. Just before stepping onto the platform, she paused to look back.

‘We’ve fought tooth and nail to keep these things contained,’ she said softly. ‘But time is running out. The ’borgs are getting stronger every hour and, by tomorrow night, they’ll be unstoppable. They’ll destroy Narrowdark. Then the valley. Then the world.’ She paused, her words resonating in the small glade. ‘So please, find that Stem.’

No one spoke as she took her place beside Raven.

JonJon pulled a small lever on the dashboard and the platform sank slowly down into the earth. Seconds later, the roots creaked back into place and soon there was no sign that the hole had ever existed.

CHAPTER 34

Roverdroids

‘Wait here,’ Helen said, opening the front door to her house. ‘I won’t be a tick.’

Jac set the chest down gratefully and slumped back against the wall. He felt the stone, rough against his fingers, and felt a flush of shame. What was wrong with him? Why couldn’t he have just moved that stupid lintel?

He shook his head and looked up. The sky was a wash of purple sweeping across into the fading embers of a distant sunset: night was coming.

Ping!

He reached for his phone as Helen appeared at the door.

‘All clear!’ she said. ‘Kat’s out with the dog and my mum’s still at your place.’

‘Yeah,’ Jac said, scanning his mobile. ‘Dad just texted. They’re clearing the garden to make room for a… gazebo, whatever that is. He’s driving over to pick me up when they’re done.’

‘Well, that gives us a bit of time, at least.’ Helen gave him an anxious look and then bent down to take one end of the chest. Together, they manoeuvred it inside and up the stairs.

Helen’s room was small, bright and full of books. There was a wooden bed against the far wall and, just above it, a latch window looking out across the backyard. She moved a couple of worn paperbacks with her foot, and they carefully lowered the chest down in the middle of the room.

‘OK,’ she said, straightening, ‘you can come out.’

They both stood back.

With a loud clunk, the chest lid lifted slightly and then creaked fully open. A shaggy head blinked up at them. It didn’t look happy.

‘Remand mi never t’do that again,’ said Thomus. ‘Smells like a cow’s bum in theyer.’ He jumped out and quickly glanced about the room before turning back to rummage in the chest.

‘Raight,’ he said, pulling out a large metal device and setting it down on the rug. ‘Give us yer hand.’

Jac peered at the device. It was a smooth-sided, silver box with four thin slots at the top. ‘Is that a toaster?’ he said.

‘No, give us – course it’s not a toaster! Give us yer hand.’

Frowning, Jac held out his hand.

‘Thassit,’ Thomus said. He opened a small panel on the side of the box. ‘Now, release the Light.’

‘What? But, I can’t just—’

‘Gi’e ower. Quit yer rattle an’ dowit!’

Jac felt a stab of anger and, at the same time, a prickle of energy bloomed across his hand. It spread to the ends of his fingers in tiny crackles of crimson light that flickered out towards the box.

‘Cooool!’ whispered Helen.

Thomus gave a satisfied grin. ‘Not an Elemental Warrior, eh?’

The flickering light cast twin reflections in Jac’s eyes. ‘I don’t get it,’ he whispered.

‘Simple,’ Thomus said, watching a flicker of light pulse across the silver box, before stabbing at the control panel. ‘It responds to yer emotions.’

Jac lowered his arm. ‘So, I do have the Light.’

‘O’ course yeh do,’ the Hob grunted. ‘This ’ere’s old tech, from ship. Only way it’ll work is wi’ universal power source.’

‘Like the Elemental?’ Helen said.

Thomus nodded. ‘An’ the Queen knew that when she gave it yeh.’ He climbed onto the bed, undid the latch and opened the window. ‘Tha’s why Raven had a face like a slapped bum,’ he added, jumping back down.

He pressed a stubby finger against the open panel. ‘Ah jus’ need tuh… theyer.’ Two small metal discs shot out from the slots in the top of the metal box. They rose up to hover in front of the two children.

‘Roverdroids,’ said Thomus.

Jac stared in alarm at the spinning disc in front of his face. ‘What?’

‘Biomimetic drones. Dunna wittle – jus’ stay put.’

They both did as they were told, watching nervously as the discs fluttered before them. Then, with a sudden flurry of activity, twin beams traced a pattern across each of their brows and a wall of light shimmered up from the box. It formed a floating screen in the middle of the room, which quickly focused into two separate, but very similar, images.

‘That’s us,’ said Jac. He squinted back at the floating discs. ‘So, these are cameras? Hey!’ He jumped back as the two Roverdroids suddenly turned and shot out through the open window. ‘What happened? Where are they going?’

‘Paris,’ said Thomus, still focused on the control panel.

‘Paris?’ Jac echoed. ‘Like, Paris Paris? In France?’

‘Yup,’ said Thomus. ‘Ah purrin that address yeh give me. Now, shurrup an’ press the connectin’ doofer.’ He tapped a stubby finger to the side of his head. ‘Like this.’

Trance-like, Jac moved his hand to his temple, aware of Helen doing the same thing beside him. There was something there, like a cold fleck of metal. As soon as he touched it, a red curtain fell down across his eyes and he was plunged into sudden and complete darkness.

CHAPTER 35

Paris

‘Owd up,’ came Thomus’ voice. ‘It’ll tek a mo.’

‘What’s happening?’

Jac turned towards Helen’s voice, but there was nothing there, only a flickering blackness. He held up his hands – but they weren’t there…

‘Pack it in,’ came Thomus’ voice. ‘Jus’ relax. Looks like theyer’s a storm ahead.’

A storm? Jac squinted, trying to focus on the swirling darkness around him. Wisps of grey hurtled past and he could hear the sound of rushing wind. A twinkle of white made him look up and he saw the moon flickering out from behind dashing clouds.

He was in the sky. He was flying in the sky.

A shriek of lightning flashed past and, for a moment, everything was lit up with savage brightness. In that frozen second, he caught a glimpse of glittering rain, swirling mist, and of the other Roverdroid rushing through the air beside him at an incredible speed. The moment passed, darkness returned and a thick growl of thunder rumbled into the night.

Reaching up, he touched the silver shard by his temple: instantly, the vision disappeared and Helen’s room shimmered back into view.

‘Wossup?’ said Thomus from the console.

‘No way!’ Jac grinned, feeling a balloon of excitement swelling up inside him. ‘No way!’ He touched the band again and was instantly back, soaring through the air. ‘This is AWESOME!’ he shouted.

‘It’s like VR!’ called Helen, her voice beside him and yet not beside him. ‘But without the V!’

The Roverdroids had risen above the churning storm clouds by now. Up here, the night sky was crisp and clear, the moon was a silver disc of light, and the stars glistened like diamond dust. It was beautiful.

As they flew ever faster, Jac caught sight of a huge triangular shape rising up through the clouds ahead. It looked like a massive shark fin. He stared back at it as they shot past. That was the tail fin of a plane…

However, before he could fully process the thought, his Roverdroid plunged back down into the cloud and, for a few seconds, there was nothing but buffeting shadow. Jac glimpsed Helen’s droid beside him as they punched out into the screaming torrent of wind and rain that raged beneath.

Jac felt his belly flip at the sight of a vast orange and neon city stretched out below. A glittering web of criss-crossing lights, twinkling hazily through the driving downpour. Paris!

‘Look at that rain,’ said Thomus. ‘It’s wazzin’ dahn!’

They plummeted through the storm. Glistening steeples and floodlit spires emerged from the mist as they drew closer, and Jac caught a sudden, heart-stopping glimpse of the Eiffel Tower shining like a ghostly beacon away to his right. Then it was gone, lost behind a blur of brick and glass, as he fell amongst the clustered buildings.

Deep in the city, streets had become rivers. Water gushed from narrow rooftops, flowing down walls like a liquid skin and spattering onto the shimmering pavements below. Cars slashed up arcs of water like speedboats as they sped past people, bent low under battered umbrellas.

The Roverdroids fled through a jumble of cobbled streets, flashing past noisy cafés and steaming restaurants, until finally slowing to dart left, through a narrow alleyway. They slowed even more, emerging into a dark, deserted courtyard. A single yellow lamplight shone dimly through the spattering rain.

‘Tha’s as close as ah can get yeh,’ Thomus called out as they came to a halt. ‘This Triteon place should be nearby. Ah’ve turned autodrive off, suz yeh can control droids yersens frum ’ere.’

Jac looked around him at the little courtyard, amazed at how natural it felt, the Roverdroid emulating his every movement perfectly. As far as he could tell, he was really there, standing in the rain in the middle of Paris. And yet, he felt warm, his skin was still dry, and he could still feel the carpet of Helen’s room beneath his feet.

It was a very cosy sensation.

‘Jac, over here!’

He turned to see the other Roverdroid floating towards another passageway at the far side of the square. Jac was after it, swooping neatly below the lamppost. The passage led onto a long, tree-lined road. Dark buildings loomed up either side like giant tombstones. An old, dripping street sign read Rue de Moutarde.

‘This is it,’ Helen whispered.

They set off along the pavement, past empty offices and silent apartment blocks, the cracked concrete facades covered in faded graffiti. There was a sense of abandoned neglect and the city seemed strangely muted. Here, the only sound was the mournful wail of the wind.

Gradually, the looming shadow of an old chateaux emerged from the mist, its steepled towers and arching walls slowly resolving into solid form. The Triteon Institute was a ruin, its elegance decayed by the passing years.

Pausing at the iron gates, Jac felt an icy chill trickle into his heart. It was like looking up at some ancient, gothic castle. The building was completely dark – save for a single window, high in the roof, where a light flickered through rain like a sputtering candle.

CHAPTER 36

Inside the Triteon

They entered through a cellar window at the back of the building. It only rose a few inches above the weeds, but there was just enough space for the two Roverdroids to slip through.

Once inside, Jac drew to a halt and looked around. It was quiet now they were out of the rain. A dim shaft of grey light from the window gave faint illumination to a large, crypt-like cellar. Vaulted ceilings, black with grime, stretched away into the shadows.

‘Lovely place,’ he muttered, moving forwards. He dodged between narrow veins of rainwater that dripped steadily onto the flagstone floor. Despite the faint light, he could see quite clearly: it seemed that, somehow, the Roverdroid was enhancing his vision.

‘Look at this.’ Helen had floated through a broad archway in the far wall. Following her, Jac found himself in a chamber that ran below a featureless stone stairway. The other droid was hovering next to some old wooden crates that had been piled up against the stairs.

‘There,’ she said.

Jac saw it instantly. A large, red triangle was stamped on the side of the crates along with the words ‘Thorn Industries’.

‘Same logo,’ he whispered.

The stairs led up to a narrow door. It was already slightly ajar, and Helen used her droid to nose it open until there was enough of a gap to peep through.

‘It’s ok,’ she whispered. ‘Come on.’

They emerged into a long, dilapidated galley kitchen filled with rusting cookers and sagging cupboards. A flicker of lightning from outside cast a sudden, jagged pattern across the tiled floor.

‘Find a way up t’top,’ said Thomus, quietly. ‘But go soft.’

Thunder boomed as Jac and Helen drifted out through a service hatch into an abandoned canteen. The windows were all boarded up, but thin slats of blue light slanted across a wide room, scattered with dusty tables and overturned chairs.

Helen paused. ‘Anyone else hear that?’

Jac drew up beside her. He could hear the storm buffeting against the walls outside; but, just below that, there was something else: a deep, rhythmic hum. It almost sounded as if the chateaux was breathing.

‘What is it?’ he whispered.

‘Dunno,’ said Thomus. ‘But be careful, theyer’s summit not raight ’ere.’

Helen turned to scan the cluttered room. ‘Reassuring,’ she muttered.

They found a wide stairway leading to the higher floors and climbed slowly, rising past peeling wallpaper and dark landings. The chateaux appeared completely derelict and yet, the higher they climbed, the louder the humming sound became – a vibration running through the entire building.

At the top of the stairs, rainwater dripped steadily through the cracked panes of a domed skylight. Beyond that, a once magnificent plaster ceiling hung in ruins above a broad landing; it had left a trail of thick, pale dust across the mildewed carpet. Both Roverdroids stopped dead.

There were fresh footprints in the dust.

‘Thomus…’

‘Ah seeyum.’

Moving slowly, Jac and Helen followed the footsteps towards a tall doorway at the end of the gloomy landing. The humming grew louder as they approached. A deep, throbbing pulse, so loud that Jac could feel it in his bones. They stopped before the closed door.

‘Um, how—’ began Helen.

‘Extend.’

Jac heard a faint whirr as two tiny metal claws unfolded from either side of his Roverdroid and clicked into place before him. He wiggled his fingers and saw the intricate metal digits replicate his movements exactly.

‘Gently does it,’ said Thomus. ‘Wey dunno what’s on t’other side.’

Jac moved forwards, reaching out and watching in wonder as two delicate arms extended before him. Instinctively, he grabbed for the door handle – and missed! His heart skipped a beat as the claws knocked against the wood with a loud clunk. He froze, watching the door…

Once he was certain that it wasn’t going to fly open, Jac took a deep breath and tried again. This time, he managed to grip the old handle with metal fingers. Slowly, carefully, he twisted down. The handle moved, the latch clicked and, with a low creak, the door swung open.

The room beyond was pitch black and, as he drifted inside, it took a few moments for the droid to adjust its sights. At first, all Jac could make out were thick rafters clustered beneath a sloping roof. Then, as his vision cleared, he realised he was in a long, narrow attic.

Teetering stacks of assorted technical equipment had been piled beneath the eaves and dozens of thick, black cables curled across bare floorboards. At the far end, a workbench was set up before a tall balcony window, which looked out across Paris.

But Jac wasn’t interested in any of that.

He was focused entirely on the huge dome in the middle of the room. All the cables fed into sockets running across the base and it was slightly raised up from the floor. A soft, green light glowed from beneath. The light pulsed in time with the loud, throbbing hum that filled the air.

‘Chuffin’ ’eck!’ Thomus breathed. ‘Tha’s a Core Extractor.’

Jac drifted towards the dome. ‘A what?’ he whispered.

‘The Vard use ’em to harvest Elemental Light frum planets.’

‘Really? This thing?’

‘It’s only tiny, but still – must’ve teken decades to mek.’

‘Guys…’ Helen said warily.

‘This means Professor Thorn knows,’ Jac interrupted. ‘She knows about the Elemental!’

‘Yeah,’ Thomus agreed. ‘S’pose she does.’

‘Guys.’

’Heh! Someone’s in fer a disappointment!’

Jac nodded. ‘Because it’s too late. The Elemental can’t be extracted. It’s already here, in me.’ He paused. ‘So then – this whole machine is…?’

‘Useless!’ Thomus confirmed cheerfully. ‘Total waste o’ time an—’

‘GUYS!’

‘Wossup?’

‘Is this the same room we saw from the street?’ Helen hissed.

‘Reckon it is. So?’ replied Jac.

‘So, what happened to the light?’

There was a moment of silence and Jac felt his stomach sink. She was right. When they’d seen that window from outside, it had been brightly lit. Now, apart from a soft glow from the Extractor, the attic was completely dark.

‘Oh,’ said Thomus.

And then everything happened too fast. As Jac turned, a flash of lightning lit up the sky outside, throwing the long room into sudden, stark silhouette. In that moment, he saw Helen’s Roverdroid, saw a figure looming up behind it, saw a metal crowbar slash through the air…

He choked out a desperate cry of warning, but it was too late. There was a loud crack as the room plunged back into darkness.

He froze, heart thumping in his skull. ‘Helen?’

‘Jac, what happened? I’ve lost connection.’

Another boom of thunder echoed across the sky as Helen’s Roverdroid rolled across the floor. Jac gasped: one side was completely caved in.

‘Gerrout of it!’ Thomus hissed as a crooked figure stepped from the shadows.

Moving quickly, Jac fled towards the Extractor. Metal steps led to a wide, overhanging gantry that encircled the machine and he quickly bobbed down out of sight, then turned and peered cautiously between the rails.

Professor Thorn was deathly pale. She wore a long coat that billowed behind her as she click-clacked over to Helen’s ruined droid. She studied it for a moment, shoulders hunched, face hidden. Then, suddenly, her head jerked up and Jac stopped breathing.

She was looking straight at him.

CHAPTER 37

The Woman In Black

‘Now what?’ Jac hissed, ducking back behind the gantry.

‘Hang on.’ He heard Helen walking across her bedroom. ‘I can see your view on the display. Spin around. See if there’s another way out.’

He turned, using the Roverdroid’s enhanced vision to scope out the edges of the dark room. It wasn’t good: except for stacked crates and piles of discarded components, there was nothing but solid walls and thick, timber beams.

‘Wait!’ Thomus yelped. ‘Old yer ’osses. Go back a bit.’

Jac glanced back towards the far end of the gantry, where a metal workstation had been fixed in place beside the ladder. A jumble of screens were clustered over two, angled control panels and, between them, secured by a metal cradle, was a small, green stone. It was glowing softly.

‘Thassit,’ Thomus said. ‘Tha’s the Central Stem she took out o’ Bob!’

‘That thing? It’s tiny!’

‘It is,’ Thomus agreed. ‘But theyer’s enough energy in tha’ green pebble to power a planet.’

‘Hobs.’

The word cut across the room. Jac spun around to see Professor Thorn, still glaring up at his hiding place. She kicked Helen’s stricken Roverdroid with one foot. ‘I thought you all died in the crash.’

There was a small click and Thomus’ voice crackled out from a speaker in Jac’s droid. ‘Yeah?’ he boomed. ‘Well, ah’m happy to disappoint yeh!’

The woman shook her head. ‘I don’t have time for this.’

‘Mek time! You released bio-weapons into our valley. Theyer killin’ kids!’

‘Which is unfortunate,’ Thorn drawled. ‘But there are greater things at stake than your valley.’

‘Are yeh mad?’ Thomus spluttered. ‘How can yeh justify settin’ Rangda loose?’

‘You’ve been stranded on this little planet for too long, Hob. You’ve forgotten that the universe is at war. You’ve forgotten what’s at stake.’

‘Forgotten!’ Thomus was incredulous. ‘Wey lost our home! Of course ah’ve not forgotten! But the war is over.’

‘Not for me!’ Thorn snarled. Her words echoed across the long room and she looked away, towards the window. ‘Enough of this. Just leave.’

‘Gladly,’ Thomus grunted. He clicked off the speaker and spoke to Jac: ‘Now’s yeh chance. Go! Get th’ Stem!’

Without a thought, Jac broke cover and shot up towards the workstation.

He heard a low growl as the Professor turned back. ‘Don’t you dare!’ she hissed.

A sound, like snapping twigs, echoed across the room as Jac floated down to the control panels. He used the droid’s motorised claws to clasp hold of the green stone.

‘Quick!’ said Helen.

However, the stone was held firmly in its cradle and wouldn’t budge. Jac scrabbled at it, desperately trying to get a decent grip.

‘She’s coming!’

‘I know, I know!’

The gantry reverberated as footsteps pounded up the ladder towards him. It was too late, he’d run out of time. But then, just as he was about to give up, the Stem shifted in its cradle.

‘Got it!’ he breathed. ‘I—’

CLANG!

The world went topsy-turvy as Jac’s Roverdroid was sent spinning into the air. He caught a glimpse of Thorn, crowbar gripped tightly in one hand, and then he was falling – bouncing down the side of the dome to skitter out across broad, wooden beams.

But, even before he came to a halt, he knew he’d succeeded. He saw the green stone rolling across the floor towards the window. The sudden impact had jarred it loose.

Go, he thought, motioning forwards.

Nothing happened.

He tried again. Go! This time, the droid rolled sluggishly to the side.

‘Yeh reet, lad?’ Thomus sounded anxious.

‘Dunno,’ Jac replied. ‘It’s not responding.’

‘Ah’m not surprised. Everthin’s flashing red lights back ’ere!’

Go go go! Jac thought, leaning his whole body forwards. Slowly, the droid rose up until it was about two feet in the air. It wobbled slightly, listed alarmingly to the left and then started forwards in an erratic bobbing motion. Looking up, Jac tried to locate the stone, but everything seemed much darker than before. He cursed. The enhanced vision was broken, too, which meant he wouldn’t be able to see if—

WHOOSH!

A blur of metal whistled through the air as he bobbed down. The crowbar had missed by millimetres, which meant Thorn was standing right behind him. He heard the click of her bones as she raised the bar again.

‘Go left!’ Helen cried.

Jac moved without hesitation, sending the Roverdroid skidding wildly between stacked crates and into a dense curtain of shadow that fell across the edge of the attic.

‘Stay by the walls!’ Helen gasped. ‘Where is she?’

Jac spun around, but the pale woman was gone.

‘Worrabout the Stem?’ said Thomus.

Jac glanced across; the green stone was still there, glowing softly on the floor. The tall window rose up behind it and he could see rain gusting in through cracked glass panes, making the pale curtains billow and bloom like two dancing ghosts.

Cracked panes…

‘Got an idea,’ he said.

Moving slowly, Jac set off through the shadows, taking care to stay close to the wall. He tried to survey the room as he went, but it was no use; he could barely see without the Roverdroid’s night vision. Thorn could be anywhere.

‘Careful,’ whispered Helen.

Jac flexed his fingers and saw the two pincers wiggle in response: at least they still worked. The Stem lay on the floor just ahead. He floated unsteadily into a haze of damp light coming from the window. The stone was close now, just a few more feet and…

Professor Thorn emerged from the gloom, pulling her coat about her like a cape. She’d been standing behind the desk, waiting for the damaged Roverdroid to come to her.

‘This game is over,’ she rasped, raising the iron bar up over her head.

Jac knew he wouldn’t make it. His droid was barely functional and there was a mad woman standing over the stone, ready to strike. He was doomed.

Unless this worked.

Pitching forward with all his might, he sent the erratic droid hurtling towards the Professor.

‘Whoa!’ Thomus roared. ‘Are yeh mad?’

Jac shot across the boards, stretching out tiny claws as Thorn swung the crowbar. Grabbing the Stem, Jac twisted his body to flip upside down, holding it up like a tiny shield. There was a strangled cry as Thorn pulled violently to one side. She missed the green stone by inches and the bar smashed into floorboards with a vicious crunch.

‘Idiot!’ she snarled. ‘Do you have any idea what you… wait! Stop! Stop!’

But it was too late. Still accelerating, Jac crashed through the frail window in a glittering explosion of shattered glass. He swung out onto a rain-drenched balcony suspended high amongst the rambling spires of the old roof. Wind buffeted him and he paused for a second, frozen in a moment of doubt. He was too high up – there was nowhere to go.

A soft tinkle of glass from behind: Thorn. With no other choice, he launched the droid forwards between crooked iron rails to fly out over the edge of the balcony in a long, graceful arc…

And then dropped like a stone.

CHAPTER 38

Seasick

‘Stop!’ Professor Thorn stretched out a pale hand through the slashing rain. ‘Please! You don’t understand! This isn’t…’ But her words were lost, whipped away by the wind.

Jac didn’t care. He was plummeting down the side of the chateaux, straight towards the paving below, and his Roverdroid was refusing all attempts at slowing down.

‘Thomus, I can’t pull up!’

‘Owd on.’

‘No, seriously!’

‘Ah’m jus’ twairtlin wit buttons…’

Somewhere, in the back of his mind, Jac realised that this wasn’t real; that he wasn’t actually streaking towards the ground at an alarming rate. However, it was hard to believe that when he was close enough to see cracks in the pavement.

‘Thomus!’

‘Almost theyer…’

But it was too late. Jac screamed, closed his eyes…

‘Gorrit.’

…and opened them in time to see the ground swoop past. With a violent lurch, the Roverdroid catapulted up and over the rusting wrought iron fence.

‘Raight then,’ Thomus continued calmly, ‘autopilot’s engaged. Should bring yeh straight back ’om. An’ well done, that were sahnd thinking wi’ the Stem.’

Jac braced himself, ready to be launched up into the clouds. But, instead of rising, the Roverdroid simply accelerated. Buildings became a blur as the Roverdroid sped ever faster through the rainswept city. It weaved crazily through narrow streets like a misguided missile, and Jac felt a sudden swell of motion sickness in his stomach.

‘How do I go up?’ he gasped, bouncing off a signpost.

‘Vertical thrust’s all norsed-up,’ muttered Thomus. ‘Bit low, issit?’

‘Yes,’ shouted Jac, eyes wide. ‘It is a bit low!’

‘Jus’ kip ’old ow that Stem.’

By now, the Roverdroid had joined a motorway out of the city. Jac watched in horror as he zig-zagged between the flashing lights of oncoming cars. He bounced beneath a lorry, leaving a trail of sparks, before careering drunkenly into a merging lane. Finally, the droid abandoned the road altogether and howled out across open countryside. It twisted and dived over hills and meadows at incredible speed, and Jac swallowed back another wave of nausea as he dashed out across the Northern Plains of France.

‘Yeh reet in theyer?’

‘NO!’

‘Belter. Dun’t drop Stem.’

The scenery began to level. There was a blur of lights and then sudden darkness: he was over the sea. Huge cliffs of rolling, foam-topped water whipped by in the howling wind. Some waves were too high and the droid punched straight through them in flurries of froth, nearly tearing the tiny stone from Jac’s grasp.

And still the droid sped on, leaving the storm behind as it streaked over the English coastline. Jac watched helplessly as he dashed through dark forests and undulating moors, then into the hazy orange glow at the outskirts of London. He flashed over the M1 and chased a moonlit river up into the dales of Derbyshire where, finally, the Roverdroid began to slow.

A surge of relief ran through him as the droid dipped into a broad valley. It sailed through Farlock town, past his school, past Lowdale Wood and over the fields until he saw the comforting lights of Woolmouth village ahead.

He was home.

The Roverdroid fluttered unsteadily down a steep bank of grass towards the main square. Within seconds it was drifting, unnoticed, past the steamed windows of Gill’s Fish Shop, before turning onto Water Lane. It bounced lightly off a car bonnet and slipped in through the open window of number 23.

There was Helen, standing up from her bed. There was Thomus, turning from the screen. And there, most bizarrely of all, was himself – a red visor shimmering across his face. He watched as his own arm reached up to touch his brow.

With a shimmer of light, Jac was looking out through his own eyes. He put out a hand to steady himself and the Roverdroid fell at his feet with a low thunk. It was soaking wet, covered in scratches and had a large dent down one side.

There was also a small green stone, clamped firmly between its pincers.

CHAPTER 39

A Parting of the Ways

‘Here you go,’ said Helen, holding out a small canvas tote bag. ‘Best I could find.’

The bag had the words I Wuv My Dawg emblazoned on both sides. Thomus raised a single, shaggy eyebrow before wrapping the Central Stem inside and tucking the bag into his pocket. He jumped onto the bed and peered out through the open window.

Jac looked up. He was still packing the Roverdroid away. ‘What are you doing?’ he asked.

‘Checkin’ coast is clear.’

The battered droid dropped into the chest with a clunk.

‘You’re leaving?’

The Hob paused with one hand on the ledge. ‘Ah need to get this Stem tuh Bob.’

Jac stood up. ‘Yeah, but Bob’s surrounded by robot vampires, remember? You can’t just saunter in there. You need a plan.’

Helen folded her arms. ‘He’s already got one,’ she said flatly.

Jac frowned. ‘What d’you mean?’

‘He’s going in at dawn.’ She nodded towards Thomus. ‘That’s it, isn’t it? That’s why the Queen wanted the Stem tonight. You’re going into the ship.’

With a sigh, Thomus turned back. ‘Wey’ve no choice. It’s bin almost three days since Rangda were activated. After tonight, they’ll be full power an then theyer’s no stoppin’ ’em.’ He shrugged. ‘It’s ower last chance.’

‘OK.’ Jac grabbed his hoody from the floor. ‘Then I’m coming with you.’

‘No, lad,’ Thomus said gently. ‘You’re stoppin’ topside.’

‘What? No. I can help – you know I can help.’

Silver eyes twinkled as Thomus smiled back. ‘Yeh already helped. Both on yer.’ He patted his pocket. ‘This. This is compressed sunlight; enough power to get Bob back online. This gives us a chance.’

Jac held up his hands. ‘You know what I mean! The Elemental. Tell the Queen I can use it. Tell her I can fight!’

‘Ah can’t do that.’

‘But I—’

‘Be said, lad,’ Thomus said firmly. ‘Raven were hard, but eh were straight. Yeh not ready.’

The words cut deep, and Jac clenched his fists as his mind flashed back to his failure with the buried lintel. ‘Oh, come on!’ he stammered. ‘That’s not fair!’

‘It mayn’t be fair, burrit’s true. Ah can’t risk yeh dahn theyer.’

‘Risk me? That ship’s stuffed full of killer cyborgs. They’ll tear you apart!’ Jac winced at his own words. ‘I mean…’

‘No. Yer raight. Mebbe they will.’ Thomus grimaced and then looked up. ‘But there’s no time fer owt else. Yeh still got tha’ communicator?’

Jac’s hand instinctively reached for the silver spiral in his pocket.

‘Kip it t’hand so’s ah can get word through. If thing’s go bad fer us, yeh to tell folk. Worreyer it teks. Gerrum out o’ valley. Will yeh do that?’

‘Yes, but Thomus, wait. Just wait—’

The Hob pulled himself onto the window ledge. ‘Tek care o’ yersens.’ And, with that, he dropped from sight.

‘Thomus!’ Jac clambered onto the bed and leant out of the window to scan the lane below, but there was nothing to see; it was empty. He stayed there for a moment, staring into the darkness. He could feel the energy coursing through his body. Feel the potential, the power. Finally, he pushed himself back inside and slumped down on the edge of the bed.

‘This is wrong,’ he muttered. ‘He’s wrong.’

‘Is he?’

He looked up in surprise. Helen was staring back at him.

‘Oh, come on! Not you, too?’

She unfolded her arms. ‘Jac, think about it. What would you actually do down there? He’s right. We still haven’t figured out how to control the Elemental. And if you get bitten or, or killed—’

‘But I won’t.’

‘But you might. And then what? Thorn wins.’

They glared at each other for a long moment, but it was Jac who looked away first. He stared down at his hands, willing them not to shake as Helen sat down beside him.

‘Listen,’ she said. ‘I’m not saying you should give up. I’m saying you can still fix this. Save the Hobs, save the valley. There’s still time. We just need to figure out how to use this weird power of yours.’

After a moment, Jac looked back at her. ‘You’ll help?’

Helen rolled her eyes. ‘Idiot. Of course I’ll help. But we’ve got to hurry, there’s only a few hours left.’ She took his trembling hand, threading small fingers between his until, gradually, the shaking stopped. ‘We can do this,’ she said softly.

In that moment, Jac felt a small flicker of hope. Maybe she was right; maybe they could do this. Maybe everything would work out, after all.

And then he heard the scream.

CHAPTER 40

Blood

They both burst onto the landing in time to hear a loud crash from below.

‘Kat?’ Helen called. ‘Is that you?’

Another crash. Someone whimpered. They glanced at each other, wide-eyed, then rushed down the stairs.

It was dark in the hall. The lights were off, the front door was wide open and the side table had been knocked over. Jac moved towards it, but stopped when he heard a noise from the kitchen. Helen was already running down the hall. He followed as she pushed open the door and they both clattered into the brightly lit room.

Time seemed to slow down.

He saw Kat first. She was huddled on the floor with her back pushed up against the cabinets. Her knees were drawn up to her chest and she was covered in blood.

‘KAT!’ Helen hurled herself towards her sister, crouching to grab her shoulders.

The girl screamed again and flinched away.

‘Oh God!’ Helen sobbed ‘What’s – where are you hurt?’

Kat looked up with wild eyes. It took a moment for her to focus. Then, recognising her sister, she sagged slightly.

‘No. I’m… it’s not mine…’

Weakly, she gestured towards the table, and they both looked up to see Helen’s mum, standing over a bundle of towels. She was strangely still.

‘It’s OK.’ Peggy’s voice was shaking. ‘We’re OK. It’s Barney. Get me a bowl of warm water from the sink.’

Barney? Jac looked back down at the bundle of towels and realised with a shock that they were moving. He heard another whimper and saw a brown muzzle appear from under the covers.

‘Shhh, good boy,’ Peggy murmured soothingly. ‘Stay still, it’s alright.’

Snapping out of his daze, Jac crossed over to the sink and filled the bowl with warm water. He quickly hefted it out and carried it over to the table.

‘Thanks, love,’ Peggy said absently. She rinsed her hands and carefully pulled back the towels.

Barney was lying in a shivering heap. There were deep cuts across his flank and his fur was wet and matted with blood. Although his eyes were closed, he managed to give a low whine as Helen approached and, when she reached out to him, he tried to lick her hand. She gently stroked him as her eyes filled with tears.

‘We phoned the vet,’ Kat murmured from the corner. ‘They’ll fix him. They’ll…’ She stopped, dropping her head back against the cupboard with a clunk.

‘Mum…?’ Helen said hoarsely. ‘What happened?’

‘Oh, Helen love, I don’t know.’ Peggy was lightly dabbing at the dog’s wounds with a cloth. ‘We were driving back, Wes and me. And then, all of a sudden, I saw Kat standing by the road with Barney in her arms. They were attacked by some sort of animal… under the train bridge.’

‘The car scared it off,’ Kat whispered. ‘It didn’t like the headlights.’

Peggy cast a concerned look at her eldest daughter. ‘It’s OK now, love. You’re safe.’

‘No, I’m not,’ Kat hissed. ‘None of us are.’

‘Hush, now,’ said Peggy. ‘It won’t come near the house. Animals are afraid—’

‘It’s not an animal!’ Kat cried. ‘Don’t you get it? Whatever’s out there, whatever that thing was – it’s not natural! I saw it…’ She choked back a sob. ‘I saw its face…’

Jac crossed over and squatted down in front of the distraught girl. ‘Kat?’ he said, keeping his voice low. ‘Do you know where it went?’

‘Don’t be stupid!’ she glared up at him. ‘You don’t even…’ She trailed off, something in his expression causing her to pause. Gradually, her frown melted away. ‘You…’ She lowered her voice to a whisper. ‘You’ve seen it?’

Jac glanced back over one shoulder. Peggy was still bent over Barney; she wasn’t listening. Turning back, he gave a small nod.

‘Oh.’ Kat took in a deep breath of air, then swallowed – composing herself. Finally, she nodded back.

‘Where did it go?’ Jac said again. ‘Did you see?’

Kat shook her head. ‘I don’t think it went anywhere,’ she hissed urgently. ‘The car lights startled it, that’s all. It dodged back, but I didn’t see any sign of – oh, wait!’ She broke off, casting a desperate look around the small kitchen. ‘Your dad!’

Jac felt a sudden, heavy weight on his chest. It seemed to push him down into the floor. Even before Kat spoke, he knew what she was going to say.

‘He went back! He went back to look for it.’

CHAPTER 41

The Bridge

A thick fog was settling across the village as Sergeant Wes Jenkins steered his car back towards the old train bridge. He drove quickly, his face taut.

Following the attacks at Doxy’s farm and on Sam Baxter’s van, Woolmouth police had received an increasing number of strange reports, from missing pets to lights in the sky, and people were seeing things that made no sense. And now this. Peggy’s dog was attacked, nearly killed, and Kat – that poor kid! He’d never forget the look in her eyes as she scrambled into the back seat. He shook his head: enough was enough.

The road dipped ahead and, as he crested the hill, he glimpsed the bridge – all but hidden amongst the swirling fog below. Seeing a lay-by, he pulled in beside a Welcome to Woolmouth sign, turned off the engine and stepped out of the car.

It was a cold night and his breath left drifting chugs of mist as he trotted down the narrow road. He shrugged off his jacket as he went, wrapping it around his arm for protection. A heavy-duty, police issue torch bounced against his hip, along with a can of pepper spray and a dog lead. Not exactly riot gear, but it would have to do.

He’d already put in a call to the station. The Inspector was on her way from Farlock, along with a couple of squad cars and a very big cage. They were all agreed: this needed to end, tonight.

The old bridge loomed through the fog, curving over the road like a great, stone mouth. A tall lamppost rose up to one side, the light at the top little more than a dim smudge of orange in the grey haze. Wes drew up beneath it and peered into the void.

‘Right then, Bigfoot,’ he muttered, flicking on the torch. ‘Let’s have a look at you.’

The wind sighed softly as he stepped into shadow. He moved carefully, taking slow steps. His torchlight painted a bright circle across blackened gritstone walls and old graffiti. The walls of the bridge were deeper than he’d expected, and so choked with fog that he could barely see through to the far side.

There came another soft sigh and Wes paused. He put his head to one side: listening until it came again. A cold shiver trickled down his neck: it wasn’t the wind.

It was the sound of something breathing…

Something rustled and he spun in time to see a large, ragged shape drop from the wall ahead. It landed with a heavy thump, but when Wes shone his torch, there was nothing there. The shape seemed to have melted into mist. He swept the beam back and forth, searching in the darkness. A low, sullen growl rumbled through the archway.

He shuffled back a step, holding up a bundled arm for protection as he fumbled for his radio. ‘Dispatch!’ he hissed urgently. ‘This is Sergeant Jenkins. I’m on site and I think it’s here. Repeat, it’s—’

Something hit him, hard.

Wes crashed back against the curving stone wall with a grunt of pain. The torch flew from his hand and rolled out of the tunnel, shining staccato flickers into the shadow. As he struggled to rise, he saw a huge pair of eyes glistening in the dancing light.

And then, with a roar straight from hell, the thing came at him. It grabbed his head, slammed him back into the wall, and…

…nothing.

CHAPTER 42

Payback

‘NO!’ The word came out as a breathless sob.

Jac had stormed out of the kitchen before Kat had finished her sentence. Ignoring the shouts of warning, he’d bolted from the house and sprinted through the village. He’d run so fast that he’d reached the top of the hill in time to see Wes Jenkins walk under the arched bridge.

Swallowing back panic, he started down the road. Nothing else mattered now; just his dad.

He was almost at the bridge when he heard the Rangda. Its roar echoed from the shadows as if the stone itself were bellowing in rage. There was a grunt, a thud… and then a horrible, ominous silence. A black torch rolled across the tarmac towards his feet.

Jac scooped it up without thinking and stumbled up to the archway. He paused a moment, breathing hard, as his eyes adjusted to the darkness: a shadowy figure lay slumped against the wall to his right.

‘Dad!’

He started forward and then froze. He couldn’t see through to the other side of the bridge because something was blocking the view, something big. It was right in front of him. Jac’s mouth went dry. A voice in his head screamed at him to Run! Escape! To scrabble away from this thing before it slashed out with gleaming claws and cut him down…

But Jac stayed where he was.

Because, in that moment, with his dad lying unconscious beside him, he suddenly realised that he wasn’t actually frightened.

It was a somewhat unexpected sensation. For, ever since the Light had struck, he’d been afraid. Afraid of its power, afraid of what it was turning him into. Afraid of himself. He’d become ruled by fear and that was just… stupid. The Light wasn’t some alien being – it was part of him, and he was part of it. They were connected. They were… what was it Bob had said? Unified.

Jac raised his head and looked into the darkness. He was aware of the creature glaring back at him. Its presence was unmistakable: huge and dangerous, like standing in front of a bull. And he could smell it, too: rotten meat, blood, decay. And, beneath all of that, the unmistakable tang of petrol.

These things were flammable; like incendiary bombs waiting to explode. They weren’t just sensitive to light, they were terrified of it – and with good reason. Because, if sunshine could kill them, then maybe…

Even before the thought had registered, he felt the Light respond. It pulsed inside him, sure and steady. And, this time, there was no doubt. No hesitation.

With a low growl, the Rangda emerged from the shadow. Jac saw his face reflected in shining, black eyes. He held the torch up with both hands. A fizz ran through his fingers as the lens melted away into a pool of flickering energy.

The growl became a roar as the creature launched itself forwards. At the same time, crackling light exploded through the bridge. A hundred times brighter than any normal beam, it slashed clean through the Rangda. There was a bloom of fierce white flame, a whoosh of heat and Jac turned away, raising an arm to shield his face. When he looked back, the flames had flickered away and the creature was gone.

All that was left were a few orange embers floating gently in the mist.

Part 4

Sunday

CHAPTER 43

Early Start

It was still dark as Jac stepped out from Spitewinter House the next day. The moon was a delicate sliver in a cold, cobalt sky. He checked his watch. 6:45 am.

Less than thirty minutes until dawn.

Closing the door softly, he made his way through the gate and over to the stile on the opposite side of the road. Street lamps from the village cast a warm, orange glow through the morning mist. It was just enough for him to see a path leading across the dew-glistened meadow.

As he climbed the stile, a sudden explosion of noise shattered the silence and he spun around, just in time to see a flock of starlings take to the sky. He watched them swoop above the trees, and then took a long, steadying breath.

He’d been up most of the night thinking about what he was about to do. About all the ways it might go wrong. Somewhere beneath him was another world, a world of darkness and monsters and danger. And he was about to walk right into it…

‘There you are!’

Helen was sitting on the gate that led into the next field. Like him, she was dressed in a jumper, jeans and walking boots. She also wore her red duffel coat and had a thick scarf wrapped around her neck.

‘Took your time,’ she said, jumping down. ‘Thought you’d overslept.’

Jac grinned and then shrugged one shoulder to indicate his rucksack. ‘Needed more torches. The mini mart only had a few dozen, so I had to raid Dad’s garage.’

‘Is it enough?’

‘Best I can do.’

She waited for him to follow her through and then closed the gate. They continued along the path together.

‘How is your dad?’

‘Fine. They reckon he’ll have a nasty lump for a few days, but nothing worse. I think he’s more embarrassed than anything.’

‘So, he didn’t see you…’

Jac shook his head. ‘He was still pretty groggy when the police turned up. Doesn’t know what hit him. And, once he realised I’d come down to the bridge on my own, he was too busy being mad at me to think about himself.’ He sighed. ‘We hardly spoke a word last night. I knocked on his door before coming out this morning, but he was still asleep. To be honest, I don’t know what I’d have said, anyway. I left a note under my pillow, in case – well, you know…’

‘Yeah,’ Helen said quietly. ‘Me too.’

The silence stretched for a moment, before Jac decided to change the subject. ‘What about Barney?’ he said. ‘Is he going to be alright?’

Helen’s answer surprised him. ‘Actually, he’s much better. By the time the vet arrived, he was walking around.’

Jac frowned. ‘Really? But there was so much blood.’

‘I know. Maybe the cuts weren’t as deep as we thought.’ Helen shrugged. ‘I’m just glad he’s OK.’

‘Yeah…’ Jac felt a twinge of unease, but decided not to say anything more.

They walked quickly, fuelled by a nervous energy, and neither of them spoke until they’d reached the bridge into Lowdale Wood. It was there that Jac paused and turned to face Helen. This was a moment he’d been preparing for.

‘Listen,’ he began.

Helen folded her arms. ‘I’m coming with you.’

‘Right. But, thing is—’

‘I know.’

‘No, listen… we might not be coming out again—’

‘Jac, I know.’ Helen spoke quietly. ‘I know everything you’re about to say. And, you know what? You’re right. I can’t fight those things, I haven’t got any powers. I didn’t even bring a wooden stake. But I’m coming with you.’

‘Helen, what about your mum? Your sister?’

‘What about your dad?’ She shook her head. ‘If we don’t get that Stem back in place, the Rangda will swarm across this valley and kill everyone. Everyone. I can’t just sit and wait. This is our only shot and you know it.’

‘But—’

‘Stop,’ said Helen, holding up a hand. ‘Remember what I said on Friday? In the square? You are not alone.’ She raised her chin. ‘Whatever happens next, we’re in it together. Both of us. Got that?’ She gently nudged him to one side and strode past. ‘Besides,’ she called back over one shoulder. ‘It’s not as if you have a choice in this.’

Jac opened his mouth to reply, but nothing came out. No carefully prepared reasoning. No arguments. Nothing. This was her choice, not his. And, as he ran to catch up with her, he couldn’t help feeling a flush of warmth. The simple truth was, Helen was right: this was their only shot, and he was glad they were taking it together.

It was even darker under the canopy of Lowdale Wood and they had to use their phone torches to find their way through to the clearing. It was eerily quiet. Morning mist drifted across the grass like witches’ breath, while the ruin of Barton’s Mill cast a hazy silhouette against the leaden sky.

Thomus stood alone below the old chestnut tree. He watched, grim-faced, as they drew near. ‘Yeh better be sure abaht this, lad.’ His voice was a low growl.

Jac stopped and pocketed the phone. He raised a hand before him and allowed a spark of Elemental Light to play across his fingers. It cast a flickering reflection in his eyes.

‘I am,’ he said.

Thomus stared at the Light for a moment, and then raised a wrist to his mouth. ‘JJ – you theyer?’

A low grunt crackled out from the communicator.

‘Stay put,’ Thomus continued, ‘weyer on us way.’

He took a step back and motioned at the small platform.

‘OK then, on yeh get.’

CHAPTER 44

Journey into Narrowdark

‘Are you sure this is safe?’ Helen squeaked. They had already sunk down through the roots, and now the hole was creaking shut over them, sealing off the outside world.

She and Jac were huddled together in the middle of the round saucer as it swung gently over the chasm. It was suspended by a series of thin chains hanging from rails in the cavern roof and, apart from a cushioned bench that curved around the edge, there was absolutely nothing to hold on to.

‘Course eh’s safe.’ Thomus was crouched under an old car dashboard that had been bolted to the back of the platform. A number of levers stuck out on either side and a worn steering wheel jutted over his head.

‘Raight,’ he continued, climbing onto a bicycle saddle set below the dashboard. ‘This is a tunboat. Usually, theyer slow, burah’ve had a piggle wi’ controls to mek it go faster. Anyone sees you an’ we’ll koppit, so dob dahn. Gorrit?’

They both stared at him until he flapped his hand at the bench. ‘Sit!’ he said. ‘And kip yer ’eads dahn, wey need t’get shifted.’

As soon as they stepped towards the ridge, the tunboat dipped alarmingly. They both froze, then carefully knelt down, lowering themselves until they were lying across the cushions. Jac waited for the boat to settle and then shuffled forwards slightly, to peer over the edge.

He was overlooking a vast underground canyon. A craggy expanse of shadow, so colossal that most of it was lost from sight in the closing gloom. And there, nestled snugly into the sweeping rock face, was Narrowdark. A strange, bobbled dreamscape of cauldron-like domes and orange lights that shimmered through thick plumes of steam and smoke.

‘This is incredible!’ breathed Helen. ‘It’s like being in a fairy t—’

‘Brahn trouser time!’ Thomus slammed the steering wheel forwards. The chains went suddenly slack and the saucer dropped away beneath them.

Jac couldn’t scream. He could barely breathe. They were hurtling down so fast that his body had no weight. He scrabbled an arm over the ridge and hung on tight, as they plunged through roaring wind with ragged breath and watering eyes.

The canyon floor was a blur as it sped towards them, the distant lights becoming streaks of fire. Jac was dimly aware of Thomus shouting and cursing; and then, with a lurch that made his stomach flip, their descent came to a sudden, jangling halt.

They hung for a moment, swinging in the void, and then came a chatter of gears and they catapulted violently forwards. Twisting around, Jac caught sight of Thomus sitting back in his seat and clinging grimly to the steering wheel with both hands. He kicked a brass lever with one foot and they jolted down even lower.

‘Jac,’ Helen gasped, her voice a whisper in the wind. ‘Look.’

He turned back. A loose flutter of steam rolled across the bottom of the boat and, as it cleared, Narrowdark was revealed.

They were skimming just above the black domes. There were hundreds of them, tumbling across the undulating canyon floor like half-buried cannon balls. Speckled with orange lights, they clustered together in rising slopes and gullies that stretched away into colossal shadow.

‘Bubbleglobes,’ called Thomus. ‘We grow ’em in’t mines ’til they’re big enough t’ live in.’

Shielding his eyes, Jac saw that the light was spilling from oval doorways, round windows and scooped balconies. Narrow lanes meandered between the domes and, as they flashed past, he glimpsed tiny lampposts, steep stairways and crooked alleys.

His senses were reeling. It was like falling into another world. A world that somehow existed just below the valley. Just below his house. It was impossible.

With a clatter of chains, the tunboat veered to follow one of the cobbled streets, until it widened out into a colourful hodgepodge of canvas canopies and drifting smoke. As they soared over the ramshackle shanty, Jac’s mind flashed back to market day in Woolmouth.

And on they went, flying over arched footbridges and wooden signposts, between fat chimneys and domed rooftops. As they punched through a billow of hot smoke, he became aware of a distant roar.

Looking up, Jac saw a huge, shimmering waterfall tumbling out from a craggy fracture in the cavern wall above. The white water cascaded down a series of rocky outcrops before crashing into a swirling cloud of mist.

‘Dark Falls!’ Thomus yelled, raising his voice as they approached the booming torrent. ‘Weyer almust theyer.’

‘Where is everyone?’ Helen shouted.

‘Queen’s already on’t lake wi’ army. Everone else is dahn at Shimmerstone Square, preppin’ fer evacuation. Mind aht.’ He twisted the wheel and began yanking one of the levers back.

They swung past the waterfall, arcing through a plume of freezing vapour, which made both children gasp in shock. Then, Thomus pushed the wheel forwards and they fell straight down into the rising mist.

CHAPTER 45

Shimmerstone Square

For a moment, they were lost in the billowing haze. All Jac could see were his hands, tightly gripping the wooden bench. And then they emerged with a clatter of chains and a spray of water.

They were at the edge of the cavern now, and the sheer rock face loomed up beside them. Directly below, a dark river curved out from the falls. It was spanned by a wooden bridge, which had been hung with lanterns. The lights cast pale reflections in the gushing black water.

‘Tha’s th’ Betweensway river,’ Thomus shouted out as they descended. ‘Runs frum bottom o’ Falls all through Narrowdark.’ He gestured across the bridge. ‘An’ that is Shimmerstone Square.’

A sweeping stone plaza stretched up from the riverbank all the way to the shadowy cavern wall. It looked like a giant stone beach; there were even a few boats listing beside the bridge, and the entire area was lit by hundreds of tiny lanterns that had been strung across in glittering cobwebs. They threw warm light onto the milling crowds below.

‘Wow,’ said Helen.

It was like looking down at a funfair from the Big Wheel. There were stalls, wooden huts and food stands, and everywhere was teeming with Hobs. Many were standing in anxious, chattering groups, whilst others urgently jostled between them, and still more were loading old suitcases onto docked tunboats, or shouting instructions whilst leaning over precarious wooden balconies beside the Dark Falls.

‘This is just… This is incredible!’ Helen shook her head at the frenzied spectacle below. ‘How come no one knows about this?’

‘What, hoomans?’ Thomus chuckled. ‘Fat chance. Whole place is cyber-shrouded. Though, I’ll grant, wey ’ave had trouble wi’ th occasional spelunker.’

The tunboat was directly above the square now, sinking quickly towards a small landing platform on the far side. Jac stared across the approaching throng of shaggy figures with rising alarm.

‘Hold on,’ he hissed. ‘What’s the plan here?’

‘Thar’ll be reet,’ Thomus said calmly. ‘Jus stay wi’ me.’

The tunboat bumped gently onto the stage with a low creak. Thomus jumped down from the saddle, put a finger to his lips and pointed. Not far from where they stood was a small cave cut into the cavern wall. It was bordered by billowing orange sheets and lit from within, so that a soft glow of light spilled out across the cobbled plaza.

Thomus beckoned and, moving very carefully, the three of them crept off the platform and started towards the cave. ‘Kip dahn,’ he whispered. ‘As long as we tek it slow, no one’ll—’

‘Oy!’

They all spun to see an elderly Hob in a bright blue dress, staring back at them. After a long moment, she raised a single, stubby finger.

‘Blazin’ sunlight!’ she shouted. ‘HOOMANS!’

The word was like a gunshot. A ripple flurried across the sheltered square as hundreds of tiny faces turned to look. Thomus took a second to consider the situation.

‘Change o’ plan,’ he shouted. ‘Peg it!’

CHAPTER 46

Below the Dark Falls

JonJon was waiting for them at the foot of a steep, stone staircase that zig-zagged down the side of a craggy slope. It was marked on either side by a line of flickering torchlights that threw dancing shadows across the rocks.

Behind him was a long, wooden jetty that stretched out into the still, black water. It was deserted: only a single, small boat remained on the water.

As they came clattering down the steps, he raised two shaggy eyebrows.

‘Yer late.’

‘Neyer mind that,’ Thomus snapped. He gestured back up, to where a riot of tiny figures were jostled at the top of the crag. ‘Wey bin seen.’

JonJon peered up at them. ‘Raight-o,’ he said mildly. He climbed into the back of the boat, waited until everyone else was seated, and then used a short paddleboard to push them away from the jetty.

Glancing back, Jac saw that the winding stone stairway remained empty, their would-be pursuers still gathered at the top.

‘They wurn’t follow,’ JonJon said, ‘not dahn ’ere.’

Using short strokes, he splashed the boat over to the far side of the lagoon, where a narrow fissure split the cavern wall. It was sealed by a thick, metal wall that stretched into the shadows above, and a small button-pad was set into the rock beside it.

‘Why won’t they follow?’ Helen said.

JonJon looked at her in surprise. ‘Coz it’s too chuffin’ dangerous, flower. Full o’ Rangda in theyer, innit?’

‘Is it?’ Helen eyed the metal wall with alarm. ‘I mean…’

‘Eh’s raight,’ Thomus nodded, eyes glinting silver. ‘Wey’ve sealed all t’other gates, so this is only way in, or aht. Th’ sun’s up, so’s hopefully theyer all kippin. But let’s bey straight – there’s death and danger on t’other side o’ this gate, and you’re still nowt but kids.’

He paused, a troubled look on his small face.

‘Now,’ he continued. ‘Like ah said at start, weyer desperate, else yeh wouldn’t be ’ere. But, if either o’ yeh has doubts, any at all – say it now. Yeh can gow straight back up them stairs an’ tek a tunboat topside.’

Helen glanced across to Jac. She had the same stubborn look she’d had on the bridge. She nodded at him and he nodded back.

Thomus sighed. ‘Fair enough.’ He leant forward to stab the button with his thumb. ‘But don’t say ah din’t warn yeh.’

Water bubbled as the wall slowly began to creak up from the depths. They watched in silence as it rose, dripping, from the water. It shuddered into place above with a loud clunk, leaving them peering into the empty darkness beyond.

JonJon pushed off with the paddle and guided the boat through the opening. As soon as they were clear, there came another rumble of gears and the wall dropped back down, sealing them off from the brightly lit lagoon. Looking back, Jac couldn’t help noticing that this side of the gate was covered in deep, criss-crossing claws marks.

Taking a deep breath, he turned back in his seat.

They had emerged onto a great black lake. It was still as a mirror and surrounded on all sides by shadows, so that the distant banks were lost from sight. In the very centre was a narrow, stone tower. It tapered up towards a dazzling cathedral of light and glass that hung over the water like some colossal chandelier.

Helen gazed up in wonder. ‘Is that the spaceship?’ she whispered.

‘Ar,’ murmured Thomus. ‘We’re bobbin’ aht under th’ nose.’

Contoured glass floors stacked above them in soft circles of rippling light. An intricate cluster of shapes and silhouettes ascended up into the dark rock.

‘Wow,’ Helen breathed. ‘You can see right inside!’

‘Adaptive transfermaytion,’ Thomus said. ‘She dun’t need solid shell dahn ’ere.’

‘It’s incredible!’

‘It’s empteh.’ Thomus sounded concerned. ‘Rangda should be in theyer, where we can seeyum.’

‘Dawn’s already broke. Where are they?’ JonJon turned, squinting into the darkness. ‘Summit ain’t raight.’

Two splashes, loud as gunshots, echoed across the still lake.

‘What was that?’ said Jac.

‘Shurrup!’ Thomus quickly reached inside the lantern and snuffed out the flame with his fingers. He moved up to the edge of the boat, eyes narrowed.

The water was a perfect reflection of the shimmering construction above. Everyone held their breath, straining to see through the shadows around them. No one knew where the sounds had come from; the echoes made it impossible to tell.

‘Ah dunno,’ Thomus said quietly. ‘Mebbe—’

A sudden slosh of water cut him off and they all turned to see the prow of an old, steel barge emerge slowly from the gloom.

CHAPTER 47

The Queen’s Army

‘Wey raight,’ Thomus murmured. ‘It’s th’ Queen’s bowt.’

Wide, flat-sided and crusted with rust, the barge floated low in the water. A few flecks of red paint still stippled the hull and, along one side, faded white letters were just about legible. They read: Sardine. A line of long oars stuck out over the edge, and crowded over the top were a jumble of small, hairy silhouettes.

With a soft patter of thumping paddles, a fleet of smaller vessels, snub-nosed and compact, floated from the darkness to surround them. Covered lanterns bobbed and swayed like fireflies in the darkness, casting a frail light across hundreds of anxious faces.

Jac let his eyes drift out over the small, dimly lit armada with a rising sense of alarm. For some reason, the Hobs all had bits of rubbish tied to their bodies. He could see dinner trays, cricket pads, dustbin lids and other assorted bits of junk. One young soldier lifted a dented saucepan up from her head so that she could peer at him from beneath its rim.

He didn’t know what exactly he’d been expecting, but it certainly wasn’t this.

‘JonJon,’ he whispered, leaning back. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Tha’s th’ army.’

‘That’s the army?’

JonJon grimaced. ‘Ar, ’fraid so.’

To Jac, the word army implied a superior, tactically proficient, organised body. A coordinated execution of force. But this? Some of them were wearing plant pots…

‘OY!’

The shout cut across his thoughts. Jac looked up and felt his heart sink.

Raven was glaring down at them from the gunwale of the barge. ‘Thomus, yer flamin’ great wazzock!’ he called furiously. ‘Are yeh puddled or summit?’

Thomus stood up. ‘Am I eck as like. The lad’s—’

‘Ah shud cloth yer one fer this! Tek em both back topside, now!’

‘Owd on a mo, jus listen...’

‘Gerraht!’ Raven spat. ‘Wey’ve enough on us plate wi’out your nonsense.’

‘Tha’s raight!’ someone shouted from the fleet.

‘There shunt be no ’oomans dahn ere!’ joined a second voice.

‘Big boggers in’t thay?’ added a third.

Thomus raised his hands for calm. ‘Owd yer sweat, all on yer. The lad’s an Elemental.’

A flush of whispers rippled across the gathered crowd.

Raven shook his head. ‘The lad’s dangerous, an’ yeh know it!’

‘Are yeh deaf?’ Thomus jabbed a finger at Jac. ‘Tha’s an Elemental Warrior.’

‘Ah ’eard yeh fost time,’ Raven shot back, ‘an’ eh’s nowt o’ th’ sort.’ He leant over the rail. ‘Ah sin it fer mesen, th’ lad’s got no control. Now, ah’ve telled yeh, an ah’ll tell yeh namor, tek em back up before—’

He stopped abruptly as a shadow flashed over the barge. Something had just swooped across the fleet. Something very big and very dark.

‘Rangda!’ came a shout. ‘Raise lights!’

Instantly, on every boat, lanterns were uncovered and lifted up on long sticks. They blazed in the darkness, a floating shield of light.

‘What!’ Helen breathed, watching as the crooked shape wheeled over the flames. ‘They can fly now?’

Thomus pulled her into the boat. ‘Kip dahn.’

‘When did they start flying?’

‘Told yeh, lass, theyer at full strength.’

‘But, but—’

She broke off as the Rangda looped around to plunge straight down through a gap in the lanterns. It landed on the edge of one of the boats with a heavy thump, making it list dangerously to one side.

There were eight Hobs on board and they all shrank back from the ragged shape looming over them. The huge wings remained outspread, quivering tautly, and for a moment it had the silhouette of a giant bat.

The crew watched warily as the creature stepped down into the boat. Two black eyes glittered in the gloom. The wings dropped with a dry rustle, falling across its body in a leathery mantle.

‘Oh,’ Helen gasped, eyes wide, ‘I thought that was a cape.’

The ragged thing gave a low, guttering growl.

‘Where’s eh come from?’ breathed Thomus. ‘They should bey sleepin…’

The growl grew louder, and then erupted into a horrifying shriek as the Rangda launched itself forwards. Seven members of the crew quickly retreated as it rushed towards them, crouching at the stern of the boat, lanterns raised, spears pointing out.

But the eighth member didn’t move. She couldn’t; she was frozen with fear.

Shaking so much that the dented saucepan on her head jiggled back and forth, the Hob simply stood and gaped helplessly at the descending mass of teeth and claws. Death was coming for her, and there was nothing she could do…

A bright, red light crackled through the air. It struck the cyborg square in the centre, and exploded out in a flash of brilliance that made every Salamander duck down and cover their eyes in alarm. By the time they looked back, the creature was gone. Nothing remained save for a few, glowing embers that drifted down to the lake. They hissed softly in the cold water.

The eighth crew member, who had fallen back over the seat, removed the saucepan and stared about her as a stunned hush fell across the cavern.

The torch in Jac’s hand was still shimmering with energy. He switched it off and lowered it to his side. Slowly, the gathered army straightened up and blinked at him.

Raven looked as if someone had just run up and slapped him in the face. ‘What… what in thunder were that?’ he croaked.

Thomus sat back down with a bump. He looked pretty stunned himself. ‘Yeh know what it was,’ he said, quietly.

‘No. T’ain’t possible! How…’ said Raven.

‘It doesn’t matter how,’ Jac interrupted. He stepped forward and pointed up at the cavern ceiling. ‘My dad lives up there. So does Helen’s mum. So do millions of other people and none of them know about any of this – about what’s coming for them.’ He lowered his hand. ‘But we do, so we’re here to help. Because you shouldn’t have to do this alone. Topside or underside, this is our valley. Our home. All of us.’

The Queen stepped into view, joining Raven at the helm. She gazed down at them for a moment. ‘Bring them aboard,’ she said. ‘Quickly.’

Raven, still looking somewhat pale, gestured vaguely back over his shoulder.

A gaggle of furry figures appeared at the gunwale of the rusting barge. One of them reached her hand down, eyes twinkling.

‘Lob us yeh bags fust, young-en,’ she said.

Jac shrugged off his rucksack and passed it up to the Hob. As she pulled it up over the rail, Jac turned to Helen. ‘Here, pass me yours.’

Helen reached for her bag and then quickly snatched her arm back. She was staring down in horror. Jac followed her gaze and felt a sliver of ice trickle down his spine.

CHAPTER 48

Ambush

A large, pale claw was clutching the edge of the boat. As they watched, it moved, metal talons dragging across the wood, gripping, pulling.

Thinking fast, Jac snatched up a nearby paddle and used it to bash the creeping claw as hard as he could. It slithered off the boat like a dead thing. But, even as the creature fell back into the lake, more cries of alarm began to echo across the cavern.

‘Rangda!’

‘Theyer int watter!’

‘AMBUSH!’

All around them, the water began to swirl and churn. Boats were bobbing and listing as long, pale hands reached up from the lake.

‘Oh no!’ Helen twisted around in her seat. ‘Jac! Sit back down!’

But it was too late. The claw reappeared, slithering up from the depths to grab the other side of their boat. Jac felt the floor tip crazily beneath him, felt himself stagger and fall. Felt the juddering, full-body shock as he pitched headfirst into the lake.

The cold hit him like a fist.

He tried to scream, but he had no breath. No time. His entire body spasmed in shock as he sank, thrashing and twisting, into the lake’s cold embrace. Water gurgled and sloshed in his ears. White bubbles rippled through a sea of black.

Lungs aching for air, he stretched out his arms – pulling, clawing his way back towards the light. He kicked out in one final, desperate push, and burst up from the water.

Gasping and spluttering, Jac reached for the side of the boat. Dimly, he saw Thomus, saw an oar being lowered towards him. Numbed fingers bumped against slick wood… And then something grabbed his foot and yanked him back down.

He drew in a mouthful of icy liquid, gagged and then swallowed again. The bitter coldness spread inside him. A dark, burning pain filled his chest. He kicked out wildly with his other foot, driving his heel down into hard flesh. The thing below loosened its grip, but not enough. It pulled again. A quick, sharp tug that took Jac deeper into the freezing lake, deeper into the black.

The lights above grew dim. Jac felt the strength drain out of him. He swept his arms back and forth in wild arcs. Flurries of tiny bubbles danced out from between his fingers to swirl away towards the surface. And, finally, as it grew even darker, he saw his dad.

His dad was lying in bed. Still asleep. Unaware that he would soon wake up to an empty house. Unaware of the note waiting for him, under his son’s pillow. Unaware that he would soon be completely alone…

No!

Jac kicked out with deadened legs and felt the thing below release its grip. He stretched up heavy arms. But it was too far. The pain was too much. He needed to breathe. He had to breathe.

Slowly, inevitably, he started to sink back down…

CHAPTER 49

Shadows in the Wall

A hand plunged down through the water.

It clasped Jac’s wrist and pulled him up. He burst out of the water, gasping for air, and was dragged swiftly over the edge of the boat, to land in a heaving, wet heap.

He retched – coughing water out onto the wood. His body was shaking so violently that he could barely think. His lungs pulled at the air in great, painful rasps and, again, the hands came, holding him, wrapping him in warmth.

Pulling the blanket tight, he sat back and ran a shaking hand across his face. Helen was leaning in, eyes wide with fear. She was talking, but he couldn’t make out the words. Everything was muffled.

He swallowed, stale water burning his throat, and something in his ears popped. Suddenly he could hear – not just Helen, but everything: a clattering cacophony of screams and shouts and commotion.

‘Jac! Are you OK?’ Helen’s face was inches from his own.

‘Thanks… thanks to you,’ he croaked in a husky rasp. ‘Think you just… saved my life.’

She made a sound, halfway between a laugh and a sob, then helped him up until he could see out of the boat. He felt the fist clench in his chest.

The fleet had fallen into chaos.

Many of the boats had already been tipped over and still more were rolling dangerously in frothing water. With a heavy slosh, the vessel beside them completely capsized, its occupants tumbling into the dark lake like dolls. Jac caught a glimpse of a pale shape in the water. He coughed out a warning to the Salamanders as they splashed around their upturned boat, but it was no use. He watched in horror as they each disappeared with sudden, gurgled screams.

Everything was happening too fast. Another boat listed violently. The crew cried out in panic as a huge creature clambered up from the depths. It climbed onto the stern and reared back to let out a fearsome shriek that echoed across the rugged walls.

After a brief pause, something shrieked back.

Shivering, Jac looked up. There was a sound like creaking leather as the shadows in the walls began to move. Shifting into raggedy shapes, they stretched and crawled across the rock.

Rangda.

He stared at them numbly. They’d been there all this time, watching. Waiting.

Thomus was already on his feet. He gave a loud, shrill whistle and pointed up urgently. ‘Theyer in’t rowf. Raise lights. Raise lights!’

But it was too late.

The shadows dropped towards the stricken fleet like crows to carrion. Swooping over the remaining boats, they grabbed and tore and ripped. Struggling figures were carried up into the air, only to be dropped back into the lake moments later, their bodies pale and lifeless. One by one, the lights were flickering out.

Suddenly, Helen was in Jac’s face. She grabbed him by the shoulders. ‘Where are the torches?’ she yelled.

He stared back at her, blinking away the haze. What am I doing? Shrugging off the blanket, he climbed to his feet. A bloom of warm energy flushed through his body, drying his skin. The shivering stopped and his mind cleared.

‘JonJon!’ he shouted, ducking down as a ragged creature howled past their heads. ‘Get us to the Queen’s boat, quickly!’

CHAPTER 50

The Battle at Dark Lake

‘Is it done?’

The Queen was standing in front of her remaining crew. Helen, Thomus and JonJon beside them. Everyone was staring at Jac. He stepped back from the scattered pile of plastic torches, veins of energy still flickering across his skin. He nodded.

‘It’s done.’

THUMP!

They all spun to see a creature at the back of the barge. It was crouched on the ledge like a gargoyle, leather wings hanging down over the side. A low, guttering growl rolled out from the shadows.

‘Let’s hope you’re right,’ said the Queen, grabbing a torch from the pile.

With a hiss, the Rangda dropped onto the deck and started crawling towards them. Tiny lanterns hung along the centre of the boat and their flames danced in the creature’s eyes as it drew near. A long, grey tongue flicked out to taste the air.

The Queen raised her arm, flicked on the torch and released a crackling bolt of red light. Her aim was true. The creature fell back with a squeal, scrabbling at the wood as its body smoked. The skin blackened and stretched, tearing open across exposed metal. The flesh withered, bones shrank, and a sudden smell of acrid burning filled the air as what little remained collapsed into a smouldering heap of ash.

After a pause, the Queen turned back with a bright smile. ‘Well, that worked!’ she grinned. ‘But I’m almost blinded.’

Helen grabbed her bag from the deck and reached inside. ‘Here,’ she said, throwing something across. ‘I thought these might help. My sister used to collect them.’

The Queen caught the object in one hand. She turned it over to reveal a pair of novelty plastic sunglasses. They were bright green and the rims were shaped like giant cartoon daisies. With great dignity, she pulled them on over her mane.

‘Thank you.’ She turned to Jac, eyes hidden beneath two laughing flowers. ‘How long will the torches stay like this?’

‘Uh,’ he swallowed. It still hurt to talk. ‘As long as we need them, I think.’

‘Good enough.’ The Queen raised her voice. ‘Everyone, arm yourselves. We need to protect the survivors.’

There was a flurry of activity as the Hobs helped themselves to torches before hurrying across to Helen, who was handing out sunglasses from her bag. They were all sorts of shapes and sizes; evidently, Kat had been quite the collector.

Raven scowled as he received a pair in the shape of two interlinking love hearts. ‘They’re pink,’ he grumbled.

‘Purrum on, ye gret tart!’ shouted JonJon, running past in a pair of silver Elvis shades. ‘Oo’s gorra torch ter borrer me?’

Helen shook her head. ‘This is the strangest army…’

‘Come on!’ Jac threw her a torch and, together, they hurried to join Thomus at the front of the boat.

Before them was a scene of utter pandemonium. Many of the boats were either overrun or sinking, and the air was thick with shadows. The remaining Hob soldiers were putting up a brave fight, but lanterns and makeshift weapons were little use against the onslaught, as still more creatures loomed up from the lake.

‘Quickly!’ shouted the Queen, raising her hand. ‘Open fire!’

Slashes of red light sliced across the void. They cut straight through the dark shadows and sent flickering reflections across the cavern. Dozens of creatures fell, writhing, into the water, their forms blackened and smoking.

‘Jac, over there!’

Two Rangda had clambered onboard one of the boats and were advancing on the helpless crew. Taking careful aim, Jac unleashed a bolt of light straight into the first cyborg. It let out a scream and reeled overboard in a plume of smoke.

‘One down!’ he said.

The second Rangda stared about in confusion, before lurching forward with a snarl. A blast from Helen’s torch turned it into a shower of glowing ashes.

‘And two!’ she replied, glancing down at the torch in her hands. ‘Wow, that’s amazing!’

As the shooting continued, many Rangda took to the air in an attempt to dodge the beams, and still more disappeared into the lake. Sensing a respite, the remaining Hobs quickly rowed towards the barge, where helping hands reached out to pull them aboard. Within moments, the entire army was on board. Or, rather, what was left of it.

More than half were lost, and many of the survivors were injured or half-drowned. The Hobs huddled together in the cargo hold that ran along the centre of the vessel, shivering and wide-eyed.

The crew spread out along the deck, forming a protective wall around them: nearly two dozen Hobs in gaudy plastic sunglasses, all blasting red light into the darkness.

By now, the Rangda were in full retreat. They fled into the shadows above, flying just out of range of the crackling torch beams. Weapons were lowered and a low cheer resounded across the deck.

However, the Queen was in no mood to celebrate. ‘Get to the tower,’ she commanded, eyes fixed on the circling shapes above. ‘We’re too exposed here.’

CHAPTER 51

The Island

Leaning over the prow, Jac watched as they approached the island. It was small; a flat expanse of smooth rock that sloped out from the water. The tower stood in the middle like a great, stone finger, pointing straight up into the stricken starship. A series of tall windows spiralled down to a small, round door at the bottom.

It wasn’t until they bumped against the rock that Helen spoke. ‘The lights are going out,’ she whispered.

A host of colourful sunglasses all rose to peer anxiously up at the delicate structure above. She was right. The ripples of light were much dimmer than before, and many of the lower levels had faded into complete darkness.

‘Bob’s dying,’ said the Queen. ‘Her reserves are gone. We need to—’

And then came a sound, like a thousand people all screaming at once.

Everyone covered their ears. The circling Rangda had started to twist and scurry through the air, flying faster and faster until, with an ear-splitting howl, they dove straight down towards the barge.

The Queen spun to face her crew. ‘This side!’ she shouted. ‘Covering fire!’

Instantly, the Hobs on the left of the boat started blasting up into the approaching horde. The Queen swept her arm across. ‘This side! Set up a perimeter on the island. I need a clear route to the tower. Spears front, torches back. Watch the water for movement. Move!’

There was a bustle of movement as the Hobs hurried to carry out her orders. Ramps were lowered over the side of the boat and a series of thick, canvas sheets were rolled out over the main deck to shelter the injured.

Everyone ducked as dark shadows swooped low over the old barge – everyone, except for the Queen. She strode purposefully over to where the children were crouched and held out a small, green stone.

‘Take this.’

‘The Central Stem?’ Helen frowned. ‘Why?’

‘Because we can’t all climb the tower, not now.’ The Queen raised her arm. ‘Go on, take it.’ Reluctantly, Helen picked up the stone and dropped it into her coat pocket.

‘This was supposed to be a stealth attack!’ the Queen continued, raising her voice so that she could be heard over the battle that raged around them. ‘By coming in at dawn, I thought we’d catch them sleeping. But the Rangda knew. They were waiting for us. Which means they’re—’ She swung her torch up and fired at an approaching shadow. It exploded into a shower of hot dust.

‘Which means they’re acting under instruction,’ she continued, brushing the dust from her shoulder. ‘I don’t know how or why – and, right now, that doesn’t matter. We’re outnumbered and these things are relentless. They’ll keep coming, picking us off, one by one, until that instruction is met. So our only chance is to end this quickly.’

The Queen nodded up at the elaborate structure above. ‘Bob can do that. She can shut these things down from source. But getting the Stem back is only half the battle.’ She turned to Jac. ‘You have to talk to her, make her understand. She spoke to you once before. I’m hoping she will again.’

Jac swallowed. ‘OK…’

‘Thomus and JonJon will take you up,’ continued the Queen. ‘Follow their lead and stay out of sight. It looks like the ship itself is deserted, so you should be safe.’

‘Owd up.’ Raven, who had been listening to the exchange, stomped across the deck to join them. He gestured up with a stubby thumb. ‘Ah dun’ like ow close Rangda are t’ tower. If they gerrin through them winders, you’ll cop it. So dun’ let ’em see yeh.’ He paused. ‘An jus… yeh bey careful up theyer, raight?’

A ferocious roar bellowed out from above and Raven turned away as a shower of glowing embers scattered the deck. All around them, the attack was getting more intense.

‘This way!’ The Queen pulled them over toward the ramps. Thomus and JonJon were already on the island. ‘Go!’ she shouted, gesturing towards the tower. ‘We won’t last long. Go!’

CHAPTER 52

A Dying Starship

It was a hard climb.

The tower had been built for Hobs, not humans. Therefore, in order to ascend without constantly banging their skulls, both children had to stoop into a low, crouch-like walk, which quickly became agony on their thighs. They also had to take great care at the windows, crawling past on all fours so as not to be seen by any weaponised vampires that happened to be flying past.

All in all, Jac was very grateful to reach the top.

The steps ended inside a neat dome, just inside the lower deck. The ship was completely dark and Jac stumbled slightly as he stepped out onto the dusty glass floor. Then he glanced down and felt a flutter of alarm at the dizzying view below.

The island looked tiny from up here. He could see the battle still raging: crimson lights flickered and flashed across the lake. Many of the Rangda had retreated, drifting up, out of range. The air beneath his feet was thick with swooping, ragged shapes; it was rather like standing over a pool of thrashing sharks.

‘Reckon… ah prowferred it… in’t bowt,’ wheezed JonJon, clambering out of the tower behind him.

‘Way too many steps!’ Helen agreed, following after.

‘Quiet!’ Thomus had been the first to reach the top. He was standing with his back to them, staring out across the shadowed deck.

Jac looked up. ‘What is it?’

‘Thot ah heard summit.’

They all froze.

Thomus pulled off his aviator shades and held up the torch. ‘Can yeh mek this normal?’

Jac nodded and the torch lens instantly reverted to clear plastic. The Hob turned it on and swept a dim beam through the gloom. Everyone watched the circle of light as it travelled across domed booths and glittering consoles. They saw computer monitors hanging in clusters from gantries, twisting control towers, upturned chairs and the hint of more beyond. But the deck stretched far into the darkness, further than the torch could penetrate.

Thomus flicked the switch off. ‘Probly nowt,’ he said. ‘But kip yer eyes open.’ He set off towards a slim column that hung, suspended in a pall of light over the centre of the deck. Casting nervous glances all around, the others followed.

There were dozens more levels stacked above them; they curved around the edge of the hull in huge, circular balconies. As he stepped out from their shadow, Jac found himself looking up into a vast cathedral of open space.

This was the heart of the ship. He’d seen it the first time they were here, but he’d had no idea it was so big. A pale glow from somewhere above sent hazy shafts of half-light through the void. It was like looking up into the colossal ribcage of a long-dead giant.

A single column, the same one he and Helen had walked across to, hung through the middle of the open space. It carved a straight, black line all the way down to the deck before them, tapering to a delicate point about three inches from the glass floor.

Thomus stopped, keeping watch, as JonJon strode up to the pillar and wiped dust from one of the thin screens that curved about it.

‘Ayup,’ he said quietly, ‘anyone at ohm?’

A series of tiny symbols flickered through the grime, and he squinted at them for a few moments before stabbing at the display with thick fingers. Almost immediately, a tiny structure folded out from the column. Jac recognised it at once. It was a Stem cradle.

The Hob moved back and nodded at Helen. ‘Raight then, flower. Yeh know what teh do.’

She nodded back and reached into her pocket to draw out the tiny green stone.

But, just as she was about to step forward, something behind them clicked. It sounded like a dry twig being snapped in half.

‘Well now,’ said a hard, brittle voice. ‘Isn’t this a surprise?’

CHAPTER 53

The Professor

Professor Thorn stepped quietly from the shadows. Her hands were thrust deep into the pockets of her long coat. Her sunken eyes glinted dangerously.

She gazed at them for a time before speaking. ‘I didn’t expect survivors.’

Thomus was the first to recover. ‘Ar, well. Happy teh disappoint yeh. Again.’

‘Hardly a disappointment. It saves me the trouble of trawling the lake for my Stem.’

‘Your Stem?’ he spluttered. ‘Ark ut cheek on it! Yer a thief!’

Thorn took a step closer ‘You have no idea what I am. Give me the stone. Now.’

‘Tell yeh what,’ said JonJon, raising his torch. ‘Why don’t yeh come an’ gerrit?’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘Please. Don’t be stupid.’

Jac heard it first. A low scrape of movement. He spun around – and felt his whole body go tense. They had been waiting in the shadows and now came staggering out with sudden, erratic lurches. There were about fifteen of them. Shambling, twisted things. They heaved forwards, approaching the four friends in a wall of hissing breath and decaying stench.

As they drew near, a clawed hand slashed out and ripped the torch from Jac’s hands. It hit the floor in a clattering explosion of plastic. He heard another crash beside him, and another, but they barely registered.

These things were not Rangda.

They were dressed in jeans and jumpers and boots. Some of them wore hard hats and hi-vis vests. They could almost be human, except that their skin was grey and their eyes were jet black. They looked like walking corpses.

The nearest one had a wild tangle of silver hair. His face was a wizened mask stretched tight across the skull and his mouth hung open to reveal a lolling, white tongue. He was wearing a ripped, corduroy jacket with the word ‘Security’ emblazoned across the pocket.

With a sudden, guttural croak, the old guard lurched at Helen. Her shocked face was reflected in two glistening eyes as his dead tongue quivered hungrily over broken teeth…

‘Stop.’

He flinched like a dog on a leash and shambled back. They all did. Heads bowed. Bodies hunched.

Jac turned to see Professor Thorn’s pale face hanging in the void. ‘My excavation team.’ Her voice was a whisper that ran down his spine. ‘I thought they might prove useful, in case I ever needed to return.’

Thomus shook his head. ‘Yer a monster.’

‘Said the bee to the wasp.’ Thorn turned. ‘I recognise that voice. You were there. In Paris.’

‘Tha’s raight, ah were theyer.’ Thomus nodded. ‘Saw what yeh were building an’ all.’

‘Then you understand why I need the Stem.’

‘Not really, no. Yer hooman. How d’yeh even know ’bout this stuff?’

The woman’s mouth twitched into the ghost of a smile. ‘Come now.’

‘Oh,’ Thomus said heavily. ‘Raight. Not hooman.’

‘No.’

‘Then what’s this abaht?’ He glanced down at the battle still raging below. ‘Why’re yeh here?’

The smile vanished. ‘Necessity. The Elemental Light is all but gone from this galaxy. And what little remains is locked away. Guarded…’

‘By the Vard,’ said Helen.

Professor Thorn’s eyes narrowed. ‘Precisely,’ she said. ‘But it seems that this odd little world has some of its Light remaining. Not much. Barely a trace. But enough.’

‘For what?’

The Professor gazed at Helen for a long time before replying. ‘Retribution,’ she said quietly. Then, with a sudden click of the neck, her face was pointed at Thomus. ‘Why would you bring children here?’

The Hob raised his eyebrows in surprise. ‘Yeh jus released a horde o’ Rangda across th’ chuffin’ planet. Bit late fer ethics, innit?’

Thorn remained perfectly still for a time, head tilted to one side like a bird. And then, with a sudden clack-a-lack of bone, she strode across to stand directly in front of Jac.

Her eyes were fixed on his. Studying him. He flinched back as she reached out to touch his face.

‘The Rangda were a lesson,’ she whispered, tracing a long, cold finger down Jac’s cheek. ‘A warning.’ She gripped his chin, hard, and leant in close. ‘You people should know what’s out there, waiting for you in the black.’

‘Get away from him.’

They both turned. Helen was standing with the Stem held up over her head.

‘I don’t know what this thing’s made from, but I saw how you reacted in Paris. So I’m guessing it’s pretty fragile.’ Her voice hitched. She sounded out of breath, but Jac knew she was trying to control her fear. ‘You let us go. Right now. Or – or I’ll smash this thing against the floor.’

Professor Thorn gave a small sigh. ‘Enough.’ She stepped back and pointed a finger at Thomus. ‘Kill that one.’

He spun – they all did – and JonJon, the only one still armed, raised his torch. But the attack didn’t come from the shuffling, half-dead things behind.

It came from above.

CHAPTER 54

The Choice

With a sound like dead leaves skittering in the wind, a lone Rangda swooped down through the half-light.

It whipped past JonJon, knocking him to the floor and sending his torch spinning off into the shadows, before hammering straight into Thomus. The tiny Hob collapsed like a rag doll. He managed to cry out, just once, before the creature grabbed his mane, pulled it up, and slammed his head straight back into the glass. There was a savage crack; a spray of blood misted the air and Thomus went limp.

With a loud cry of dismay, JonJon scrambled to his feet and rushed over. As he stooped to cradle his fallen friend, the Rangda stepped back. Only then did Jac see that it was missing part of its right arm. He looked up to the scarred face. The single, wild eye.

Eddie.

‘Do you still think this is a game?’ Thorn said quietly.

Helen stumbled back, face pale, her eyes fixed on Thomus’ inert form.

‘I’m sorry,’ the woman continued, ‘but you really don’t understand. I must have the Light. I must complete my work. Nothing else matters. Nothing. So, either hand me that stone, right now, or my team will tear you apart and I’ll pluck it from your little... dead… fingers.’

‘I…’ Helen took another step back. ‘No, I can’t. I—’

‘Very well.’ Thorn’s voice was colder than the black lake below. ‘Kill them all.’

Eddie looked up, his one, fierce eye fixed on Jac.

‘Don’t!’ Helen choked. ‘I’ll smash it! I will!’ She clasped the Stem stone tight, but her hands were shaking, her whole body was shaking. Behind her, the grey people shuffled forwards. They reached out with bone-dead fingers and scrabbled at her coat…

‘Let her have it.’

The words echoed across the ancient ship.

Helen turned to stare at Jac in shock. ‘What?’

He shook his head. ‘It’s over. She’s won.’

‘But—’

‘No!’ JonJon cried, looking up from Thomus. Tears were streaming down his face, but his voice was defiant. ‘Don’t yeh dare!’

Helen’s eyes widened. ‘Jac?’

He held her gaze. ‘It’s OK. Trust me. Give her the Stem.’

She let out a long, shaky breath. Then, very slowly, she lowered her arm and opened her hand. With a grunt, Eddie reached out to snatch the stone. He turned and held it up like a trophy.

Professor Thorn smiled.

‘Finally,’ she said.

CHAPTER 55

A Twinkle of Light

Jac’s mind was racing.

Helen was still staring at him. So was JonJon. He could feel their eyes on his face, both of them desperately searching for answers. But his attention remained fixed on Eddie – and on the small, green stone in that outstretched claw.

The idea had come to him whilst Professor Thorn was closing in on Helen. He’d been casting around, desperately searching for something, anything, that might help. He knew he had to use the Elemental, but how? The torches were gone and there was nothing else here. Nothing…

But then, glancing down, he’d seen a twinkle of light on his wrist.

His mum’s sunshine pendant. He almost hadn’t worn it. Had almost left it under his pillow with the note. But then, just before leaving the house, he’d changed his mind. He didn’t know why, it had just felt right to keep it close. To have some, small part of her with him.

Sunshine days are happy days… Those words had come to him like a whisper from the darkness. And he’d felt a warm flutter across his skin, because his mum was with him. She was always with him. And now, in this moment, he knew exactly what to do.

Sunshine. Bob’s energy was sunshine…

‘Bring the Stem to me,’ snapped Thorn, her cold voice cutting through the gloom.

Still holding out the stone, Eddie hissed and started towards her.

Jac held up his hand. ‘Stop.’

The creature paused, staring across with its one, remaining eye.

Thorn’s face thrust at him like a vulture’s beak. ‘Stop?’ she spat. ‘Are you quite delusional? This is over. Finished. You don’t—’

A flicker of light played across Jac’s fingers and the Professor flinched. Then she became very still. ‘What… was that?’

Jac threw her a grim smile. ‘Wanna see it again?’

The Elemental surged through his body and he could feel it flowing through him and into the ground. It was connecting him to the planet. To the very elements of nature: Earth, Air, Water. And there, in Eddie’s claw… Fire.

Jac threw out his hand and a dazzling bolt of energy slashed across the deck, straight into the Central Stem. The stone pulsed with light – a bright surge, that ran straight down into the Rangda. It staggered back a step before becoming suddenly rigid.

Gradually, the creature’s body started to glow from within. Veins, bones and machinery became visible as the skin turned translucent and then started to split. Golden shafts of incandescence shot out through the openings, cutting across the deck and slicing through the lifeless excavation team. One by one, they collapsed into showers of smoking, hot ash.

‘NO!’ Thorn screamed, her face twisting with fury.

But it was too late; the full power of the Central Stem had been released. An inferno of pure sunlight exploded from the stone. It filled the ship and bloomed out through the glass floor, flooding the cavern below with a whirlpool of splendour that engulfed the fluttering vampires, turning them all to dust.

All except one.

By now, Eddie was little more than a glowing outline. A jagged beacon of pulsing energy. There was a surge, a roar, and the final Rangda exploded in an eruption of machinery and rags.

As light melted into darkness and the ship lapsed back into silence, the Central Stem hit the glass floor with a loud chink.

Very slowly, Professor Thorn lowered her hands from her face and surveyed the devastation. She flinched as something rolled to the floor beside her feet. A metal skull, two narrow fangs stabbing out from its blackened maw.

‘No, this isn’t…’ She looked up and fixed her eyes onto Jac. ‘You!’ she hissed suddenly. ‘You command the Elemental!’ And, for a moment, there was something else reflected in those cold eyes. Something like greed.

‘Jac!’

Helen was reaching down into Eddie’s ashen remains. ‘Quickly, before it’s too late!’ She plucked out the Central Stem and threw it towards him. Jac caught it in one hand and swung back towards the console. As he did so, he caught a glimpse of movement: a sweep of tailcoats across the deck. Professor Thorn had fled.

He shook his head. No time to think about that now. The empty cradle jutted out before him and, crouching, he pushed the stone into place until it locked. There was a satisfying clunk. He stepped back.

Nothing happened.

‘Come on…’

He pushed the stone again, but the console was dark. The central column was dark. Above him, the lights were still fading away. He was too late. Bob was gone.

This was his fault. The Elemental must have drained the Stem of energy. If only he hadn’t—

‘SKRK!’

A flicker ran across the display screen.

‘System… pfzzzl… operational. PSHHT!’

‘Bob?’

‘Running diagnostics. Restoring damaged components.’

‘The Rangda!’ Jac said urgently. ‘Shut down all the Rangda! They’re in the lake!’

‘Scanning… All unconfined elements located. Bio-species: Rangda is now deactivated.’

Jac sagged back. ‘Thank you,’ he breathed.

A soft glow spread out across the chamber, bringing warmth back into the ship. With a cascading shimmer, the levels above blazed into light and a complex array of symbols flushed across every screen. Bob was coming back to life.

There was a dull cheer from far below and, looking down, he saw tiny lantern lights dancing across the island and a crowd of Hobs streaming in through the tower door. He stared numbly through the dusty glass: it was over. And somehow, impossibly, they’d won.

But none of that mattered right now.

‘How bad is it?’ Helen said quietly. She stooped down to pick up Thomus’ aviator shades, and she and Jac crossed over to where he lay.

JonJon pulled his friend close as they approached. ‘He’ll be reyt,’ he growled softly. ‘He’s ot is-sen, but he’ll be reyt.’ Then he buried his face in Thomus’ mane. ‘Are yuh, arkin? Dun even think o’ leavin’ me, yuh daft bogger.’

Helen and Jac knelt down beside him and they stayed like that, the four of them, until the sound of clattering footsteps and excited voices came echoing up from the stone tower.

CHAPTER 56

The Garden Party

‘Well, we made it!’

Peggy raised a glass of champagne and smiled nervously at the large crowd of people that were gathered before her. The marquee was so crammed that some of the guests had to stand out in the garden and peer in. There was even a reporter from the Farlock Mercury gazing expectantly over the top of her camera.

‘And er… well, I just want to say a big thank you to everyone here,’ said Peggy. ‘I haven’t lived in the village long, but you’ve all made me feel so welcome! And I’m so happy to be part of this. The Woolmouth Art Trail is – well, it’s lovely, isn’t it? I think Spitewinter House will be a great new venue. Wes and Jac have opened their house to us all, and I’m so grateful to them for that.’

Wes was standing on tiptoe at the back of the tent. He raised a hand and gave her a broad grin.

‘Anyway,’ Peggy continued, smiling back. ‘That’s enough from me. There’s wine over there, so help yourselves. And – buy lots of art!’

The warm sound of applause drifted up through the evening air to the top of the hill, where Helen and Jac were sitting together on the old stone ledge.

‘We should go down,’ Helen said.

‘Yeah,’ Jac nodded.

But they didn’t move.

It had been five days since the battle. Five days since they had defeated an army of cyborg vampires, thwarted an evil professor and saved the valley. But neither of them felt much like celebrating.

‘I don’t think I’ve ever been in so much trouble,’ Helen murmured. ‘Mum’s still not talking to me.’

Jac nodded. ‘I was only allowed out tonight because the party’s in our garden.’

They both watched in glum silence as people laughed and chatted below.

‘I mean, I get it,’ Helen admitted. ‘Both of us disappearing like that, right after everything with Barney and your dad. Mum wasn’t just angry, she was terrified. Even after I got back, she kept crying. It was horrible. And Kat… I can tell she wants to talk to me about what she saw under the bridge, but… I can’t…’ she shrugged. ‘I can’t say anything.’

Jac looked at her. ‘Are you tempted? I mean – I know we’ve been sworn to secrecy and everything, but… I dunno. Imagine if your mum knew that actual Hobs were living under her house.’

Helen gave a weak smile. ‘Yeah, she’d freak.’ She glanced across. ‘What about you? Are you going to tell your dad?’

‘About the Elemental?’ Jac shook his head. ‘Not yet, anyway. Remember, he didn’t actually see anything that night. As far as he’s concerned, it was just some wild animal that attacked him. And me running off the next day? That was just – acting out. Because of Mum.’

‘Yeah,’ Helen said softly. She leant against him for a moment. ‘Still, at least with the Rangda gone, there are no more wild animals for him to stress about.’

‘Lynxes.’

She sat back abruptly. ‘What?’

‘That’s the official opinion now. A family of lynxes living in Lowdale Wood.’

‘You’re kidding!’

Jac shook his head. ‘They’re putting signs up.’

‘Lynxes!’ Helen’s face was a picture of amused disbelief.

‘I know!’ Jac chuckled. ‘Still, you’re right. At least they’re not vampires.’

Helen paused. ’Yeah… About that.’

‘What?’

‘No, nothing. Just…’ She wrinkled her nose. ‘Well, ever since that night, Barney’s been a bit – weird.’

‘Weird? How weird?’

‘I mean, you saw how quickly he recovered. It was like, really fast. And now he’s acting – I don’t know. Sort of – vampirish?’

It was Jac’s turn to sit up. ‘Vampirish?’

‘Yeah.’ Helen sighed. ‘It’s not like he drinks blood or anything, but he is definitely different. He’s a lot faster, for a start. Even Mum’s noticed that.’

‘OK. But, maybe that’s just—’

‘And he won’t go out in sunlight and his eyes have changed colour.’

‘Oh.’ Jac leant back. ‘OK… so your dog’s a vampire. Brilliant.’

‘Don’t worry,’ said Helen brightly, ‘at least he’s on our side.’ She paused a moment, glancing across. ‘Talking of which, have you heard anything more…?’

Jac nodded. ‘Spoke to JonJon this morning. Thomus is loads better – still not allowed out of bed, but definitely on the mend. Apparently, he keeps asking for Jelly Babies. I said I’d pick some up as soon as I’m allowed out.’

Helen smiled. ‘I’m so glad. For a moment there, on the ship, I was worried that he’d…’

‘Yeah.’

She looked away. ‘Still no news about Thorn?’

Jac shook his head. ‘They sent a couple of Roverdroids back to Paris, but the institute is empty. She’s long gone.’

‘She’ll be back.’

Jac flashed back to their confrontation on the ship – to the look in Thorn’s eyes when she witnessed his power. ‘Yeah,’ he said quietly. ‘I think she will.’

A sudden scream tore through the air.

‘What…?’

There was a loud crash and a flurry of shouts. Seconds later, Barney came shooting out of the marquee with a large pizza box clamped firmly between his teeth.

‘Oh no!’ Helen gave a snort of laughter. ‘Vampire dog on the loose!’

They watched as a crowd of people, including both of their parents, came running out after him. Everyone was shouting as Barney took great delight dodging between clumsy footed pursuers.

Helen stood up with a grin. ‘We better go help.’

She ran off down the hill, but Jac followed at a more leisurely pace. He’d felt strange these past few days. Even more so tonight, as he watched a group of villagers chase a manic, possibly vampiric, spaniel across his garden. It was as if something inside him had become lighter.

At first, he hadn’t understood what it was. But then he’d realised: the clenched fist in his chest was gone.

He still missed his mum – still ached for her. But, for the first time since leaving, he didn’t miss London. Because this was home. This ramshackle garden with its crooked house, this village, this valley and all the people above and below, they were part of him now. This was where he lived.

And it was amazing.

He stopped for a moment. Below him, the marquee billowed with lights and laughter as the party moved into full swing. A group of people spilled out the back and started dancing on the grass. He saw Barney bouncing into Helen’s arms with a happy bark and he saw his dad look up and wave.

Jac waved back and then raised his head to look out across the valley. He felt the last embers of sunlight warm his face and thought of his mum. He smiled.

This was a sunshine day.

Acknowledgements

Thanks to everyone who helped me with this - especially  Helen, who has read this story about 20 times and who is able to second-guess an overly obvious plot point from miles away!

Thanks also to my brilliant editor, Bridget Gevaux, without whom this book would have been an unreadable series of grammatical  catastrophes!

And finally, thanks to Maggie - who gave me the idea in the first place.

About The Author

Daniel Cullen

Just like Jac (the main character of the book,  HOBS) I moved from inner-city London to a tiny Derbyshire village when I was 12.  It was a difficult time; I was scared,  alone - I didn’t fit.  But,  despite all of that, the place intrigued me. Instead of concrete and glass,  there were woods and dales (and caverns!) it was magical.

As I made friends,  I heard stories of the Hob; mischievous creatures that live underground and come out at night.  To some,  they were more than legend,  they were an accepted fact - so much so that local farmers would leave bowls of milk out for them.  I loved that.  In a way,  those stories helped me accept my new home.

I now work as a designer and illustrator,  but the Hobs stayed with me.  And now they're set loose in a new book: HOBS, the first book in the NARROWDARK series.