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SOMETHING LIVING
SOMEONE DEAD
There was a ward for each of the four points of the compass, but the twins only knew about Portland’s East Ward because they’d had to fix it. Formerly a charm magicked into a bronze plate in the lighthouse, the ‘something read’ ward was now a piece of romantic graffiti written by their parents before getting married, invested with magical powers from the twins’ Gifts.
The twins had tried to work out what the other wards might be, but Grandma X wouldn’t tell them, and discouraged them from guessing. She just said, ‘You know your Gifts can disturb the wards, my dear troubletwisters. So until you have control of those Gifts, it is best that you do not involve yourselves with the wards. There is a time for everything, you know, and now is not that time.’
After the restoration of the East Ward, The Evil could no longer come through from its own dimension or world or wherever it properly belonged, and everything had gone back to normal.
Or so Grandma X told them. But if there really was a monster in Portland, it must have come from somewhere.
‘Never mind The Evil,’ muttered Jaide, finally reaching for the pages to start her homework. ‘We need protection from our own mother . . .’
They worked in silence until the last maths problem was completed and checked. Jack finished first, but he didn’t go on about it to Jaide. She was already cross. When they were done, they put the completed pages on their mother’s bed, then paused for a moment at the top of the stairs, taking stock.
From below came a faint burning smell, the sound of clattering dishes and the occasional puzzled exclamation.
‘She sounds busy,’ whispered Jaide. ‘Let’s not disturb her.’
Jack didn’t argue. Together they tiptoed down the stairs and out of the front door, then circled around the north side of the house, well out of sight of the kitchen window, until they reached the back garden. The rain of the previous night had cleared, leaving the ground only slightly damp. They climbed the tangled roots of the Douglas fir and debated what was to be done about their missing grandmother. They had been home from school for a full hour and still she hadn’t appeared.
‘Her car’s gone,’ noted Jack, peering into the shady corner of the garden where the yellow Hillman Minx usually sat.
‘And so are the cats,’ said Jaide. She stood on her tiptoes to peer over the fence bordering the garden, in case the cats were hunting next door. Aristotle and Kleopatra were their grandmother’s Warden Companions, and they were often prowling about. ‘Kleo’s always here to keep an eye on us when Grandma’s out, like she doesn’t trust us . . .’
Over the south fence they could see the old fire-blackened house that had been empty ever since the twins had arrived in Portland. This was the house Tara’s father planned to develop. It was a twin to Grandma X’s ancient home, but built on a much narrower plot, which made it seem smaller somehow, crowded in on all sides. They had been warned to stay well away from it because it wasn’t safe.
‘Kleo?’ called Jack, just in case the cats were close but out of sight. ‘Ari?’
There were no answering meows, just the soft sighing of wind through pine needles.
‘Now what?’ asked Jaide, slumping down on to a particularly large root. ‘Should we go looking for the monster ourselves?’
‘We don’t even know if there really is a monster,’ replied Jack. ‘Besides, we have to stay here to suffer from Mum’s cake.’
‘We could look it up in the Compendium –’ Jaide started to say, before Jack interrupted her.
‘No we can’t,’ said Jack. ‘Grandma told us not to go into the Blue Room when she’s not around. We’ll just have to wait.’
The Blue Room was the house’s hidden lower level, entered by a second front door only Wardens and troubletwisters could see, or via a magical corridor that led from the second floor to the basement in a single step.
‘But there’s nothing to do,’ Jaide complained. ‘I wish we still had our trampoline.’
Their trampoline had been blown up along with their old house and all their other toys, and it was one thing Jaide particularly missed. She liked nothing better than being airborne.
‘Yeah, well, if you hadn’t kicked the football into the tree yesterday –’
‘It wasn’t my fault the branch got in the way!’
‘But if you hadn’t been cheating, it would never have gone that high in the first place.’
‘Cheating how?’
‘By using your Gift.’
‘I would never do that.’ Jaide jumped to her feet, inspired rather than offended by the accusation. ‘But that’s how we’ll get it down again. Come on!’
CHAPTER THREE
A Nosy Neighbour
Jaide dragged her brother out of the shadow of the tree and shaded her eyes to peer into the upper branches. They had found the football in a cupboard the previous day. It was old and slightly flat, but they had pumped it up with a bicycle pump discovered on a previous expedition, and had kicked the ball around for an hour before it went up into the tree. Now it seemed impossibly high, a tiny black and white speck caught firmly in the crook of two branches.
She really hadn’t been using her Gift to give the ball even the slightest extra boost. It had just seemed to shoot off her shoe like a rocket. Perhaps she had hidden football talents too, she thought.
‘Are you sure we should do this?’ asked Jack. ‘Grandma –’
‘Grandma keeps telling us we’ll never get our Gifts under control unless we practise them.’
‘Yeah, but inside, where no one can see.’
‘We’re pretty well hidden here,’ Jaide pointed out.
‘I suppose –’
‘Good!’ exclaimed Jaide, without waiting to see what Jack was actually going to say. He sighed, shrugged his shoulders and gestured for his sister to do whatever it was she wanted to do.
Jaide took a deep breath and lifted her hands up, palms out to face the ball. The sun, one source of power for her particular Gift, shone brightly upon her, making her feel warm and full of energy. A faint breeze – which also reinforced her Gift – tickled her arms and face and set her red hair dancing. This was the fun part – starting, feeling the Gift stirring in her, slowly letting it build up before she unleashed it, hopefully under control.
In front of her, a miniature whirlwind spun up out of thin air, hurtling round and round like an elongated top.
‘Go on,’ she told it. ‘Get the ball, and don’t do anything else.’
The tiny twister stretched upwards and then, moving erratically at first but then more steadily, began to ascend towards the tree’s upper branches.
Jack watched her from the edge of the tree’s shade, feeling slightly envious. Jaide could do things with her G
ift, practical things that had an immediate effect on the world. All he could manage when the sun was up was skulking about in shadows. His Gift was fed by darkness and the deeps of the earth.
Feeling left out, he stepped back into the shade of the tree and concentrated on being invisible. The afternoon sun was still bright, and the dense foliage above him cast a thick net of shadows. Diving into them was like pulling a veil down over the world because when he became one with the darkness, ordinary light seemed to slip over him too, like water off a duck’s back. Daytime became dull and thin, and the night as deep as a magical well.
The shadows gathered where the branches of the tree met the trunk. He reached into them, slipping from point to point with the ease of breath. He was a Shadow Walker, someone who could go wherever shadows led, popping in and out of existence – and in this case, that could be right up into the top of a tree.
It suddenly occurred to Jack that he could race Jaide to the ball and, if he was careful, bring it down himself.
Shadow-Jack darted silently up the trunk like a dark, human-shaped lizard, grinning at the thought of how he would surprise his sister.
Meanwhile the tiny twister danced higher, twitching and tying itself in knots. Jaide kept her eyes carefully on it, and used her upraised hands to bat it in the right direction as if she was wielding a motion-guided remote control. Grandma X once had her nudge individual dust motes back and forth in shafts of golden sunlight, but this was much more fun – and considerably more challenging. She could feel her Gift uncoiling in her like a tiger roused from sleep, and she whispered calming thoughts to it.
‘Easy, easy . . . not too fast . . . that’s it . . . no, gently – gently . . .’
The tiny twister came level with the ball, and trembled there for an instant, as though deciding whether to collapse or go sweeping off into the sky. Jaide gritted her teeth, willing it to behave. All it had to do was nudge the ball firmly enough to knock it out of its perch. She could do it with the tip of a finger. Why should using her Gift be different?
