Monster (20 page)

‘Piss-poor, Dianna.’ Maggie again.

‘I kept trying to give it to her, but every time I went to, I chickened out. And more and more time passed and it got to the point where I couldn’t give it to her because it meant it was such a big deal. So I didn’t.’

‘This could be her last ever contact with her brother and you read it before she did!’

‘It’s so bad, Dianna.’ Regan this time.

‘I know. I know. I’m so sorry.’

‘How long have you had it?’ Regan again.

‘She will never, ever forgive you for this. Never.’ Maggie again.

Dianna ran out of the room, sobbing her heart out. She ran down the stairs, stopping when she came to my step. She
was behind me, just for a moment, silent. Then she ran to the bottom, across Main Hall, and out into the kitchen corridor.

All was silent. All was still. I took the letter out of the envelope. Along with it fell a wood-carved pencil and a single coffee bean.

I went back to the dorm and lay on my bed. I stayed there for hours, reading the letter, stroking it like it was the most precious jewel, and smelling the coffee bean. And the handmade pencil with Colombia’s motto written on it
Libertad y Orden.
Freedom and Order. I tried to smell Seb on the letter but I couldn’t. I just smelled paper. And Dianna’s peach deodorant.

See you soon.

See you soon.

See you soon.

Murder capital of South America. Murder capital of South America. Murder capital of South America. Murder capital of South America. Murder capital of South America.

I believed it now. The phone call had sowed the seed. This had only made it blossom in my head like a black rose. He wasn’t coming back. I wasn’t going to see him again. I had to face that now.

My brother was dead. It was the first time I’d really felt it, even without knowing for sure. I could see my parents, there at the British Embassy in Colombia, making plans to bring his body back to England. My mother inconsolable; my dad’s face like it was when Nanna died, drawn and pale and tear-stained, like I’d never seen him before. Both of them broken.

We’d have to plan a funeral, like we’d planned Nan’s. We’d have that disgusting fat man from the funeral parlour
come to visit us again, and sit at our dining table and eat our cake and drink our tea, and promise us ‘the utmost respect at this most distressing time’ and we’d have to look through that horrific catalogue of flowers and caskets and pick the right one. And we’d have to choose hymns and a reading, even though Seb never set foot inside a church, and then some vicar who’d never even met Seb would get up and talk about him like they were friends from way back. Yuck.

And we’d have to choose songs to play at the service, even though I knew the only song Seb would have wanted was ‘Killing in the Name’ by Rage Against the Machine and no way would Mum want that. She’d probably choose some hymn and then there’d be a big argument.

I could see it all, in my head, like a bad dream coming true.

And pain. There was so much pain inside me. And there was nothing I could do to stop it. I just felt angry. And sad. And then so angry. And then so sad again. It came in waves.

My heart thudded like an underground train. I thought about going downstairs and walking out into that snow and giving myself to the Beast. Calling for it. Waiting for it. Not even putting up a fight.

COME AND GET ME! I’M READY FOR YOU. TAKE ME! KILL ME!

But I didn’t even have the will to do that. I just wanted to hug my letter and hold the pencil against my cheek, smell the coffee bean on my pillow and never open my eyes.

Now I kept seeing the dead sheep behind my eyelids, lying cold on the doorstep. Its dirty wool. Its red throat. Its dull, dead eyes. Seb’s dull, dead eyes.

Lamb to the slaughter.

Lamb to the slaughter.

Slaughter to the lamb.

I didn’t hear the door open, didn’t hear Tabby crossing the floor. Not until I felt her lying beside me and her arms around my waist. I turned round and hugged her back.

‘All right, Mousey?’ I sniffed, resting my chin on top of her head. ‘Where did you spring from? The Hidey Hole?’

I felt her nod. ‘I was in the Fiction Library. Are you coming down for dinner? Regan’s cooking it.’

‘Joy,’ I muttered. She was back in the fold then. ‘What are we having?’

‘Cheese pie and chocolate cake with mint Angel Delight. I made the Angel Delight.’

‘Wow, did you?’ I said. ‘Who made the cheese pie?’

‘Clarice peeled the potatoes and I helped to grate the cheese. And Maggie’s doing the washing-up. She told Clarice off for grating too much cheese and they had an argument.’

‘Did they?’

She nodded. ‘Yeah, and it was loud. Maggie pulled Clarice’s hair.’

‘Oh dear,’ I said.

‘And Regan walked Brody for you.’

‘She walked him?’ I said, pocketing the coffee bean and the pencil—all I had left of Seb.

‘Yeah, but Regan didn’t see the monster when she walked him. She said I should call you for dinner.’

‘Okay,’ I said, manoeuvring myself off the bed. ‘What did Dianna do?’

‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘I haven’t seen her.’

I looked at her. ‘Why, has she been up in Leon’s room?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t know. She was a bit sad.
Maggie said she was useless and then called her a rude word and she went out the door and didn’t come back.’

‘Out? Out where?’

‘She ran off. Can I have two lots of chocolate cake, Nash?’

Then we both heard it: travelling from the kitchens along the corridor, through the open door of Main Hall, up the staircase and into our dormitory. The sound of one person’s horrific scream.

Maggie’s.

‘I
t attacked me … th-th-the Beast!’

Maggie was curled into a ball against the fridge door when I rushed into the kitchen with Tabby. Apparently, she’d been emptying the dustpan outside the back door when something big and brown and hairy had lunged at her and growled.

‘What did it look like?’ I bent down to her.

‘What do you mean, what did it look like? What do you
think
it looked like, a pickled onion? It looked like a bloody massive hairy wolf!’ She was shaking hard.

I smoothed her hair gently. ‘A wolf?’

‘Yes, a wolf. You know, brown hairy things with sharp fangs. Scares the crap out of little pigs and kids in red coats?’

Clarice ran in.

Regan piped up, ‘The Beast is supposed to be cat-like. Like a big black panther, or a sabre tooth tiger. It’s definitely not a wolf.’

‘How many times have you seen it, Regan?’ Maggie shouted, getting to her feet. ‘It was brown and it had big pointed ears and huge teeth and yellow eyes and … urghhhhhh! It was disgusting.’

Clarice was biting her pink nails in the doorway. They were all stumpy. ‘Did it hurt you? Are you hurt or—’

‘No, no, I was back inside before it came any closer. I just saw this horrible head and then I ran in and bolted the back door.’

I could smell alcohol on Maggie’s breath as she spoke. I went to the window and climbed up on the rung below the sink to look. Everything outside was white, as usual, as far as I could see. The formal terrace was there, with its snowed-over flower beds, bare bushes and frozen fountain. All lay undisturbed. No fangs, no fur. No nothing.

I climbed down and faced them again. ‘It’s not there now. There’s nothing there.’

I saw the cheese pie on the side, steaming slightly and browned perfectly on top. It looked almost appetising. ‘Let’s eat.’

‘Never mind the sodding cheese pie,’ said Maggie, visibly sweating now with stress. ‘Nash, this situation is getting more and more fucked up and it needs to get UN-fucked right now.’

Tabby went over to Maggie and clutched her hand. I beckoned Regan and Clarice to follow into the corridor.

‘How much has Maggie had to drink?’ I asked.

‘I don’t know,’ said Regan. ‘She went to check on Leon about an hour ago and they were drinking then.’

‘Who was drinking?’

‘Maggie and Clarice.’

I looked at Clarice. ‘How much has she had to drink?’

She shrugged. ‘A bit. A lot. I don’t know. I wasn’t keeping tabs.’

‘Where’s Dianna?’

‘I don’t know. She was pretty upset about your letter. Everyone was so angry with her that she ran off.’

‘Did she go outside?’

‘I don’t know. I think so.’

I felt a deep stab of guilt, despite Dianna’s crappy behaviour. What if the Beast already had her scent?

Regan whispered, ‘The booze cabinet’s nearly empty too. Do you think … Do you think Maggie might have imagined the Beast?’

‘No, I don’t think she imagined it, she gave too much of a description. And I don’t think she’s lying; she’s too shaken up. But she said it looked like a wolf, not a cat. That goes against everything we’ve heard so far from Leon and the myth book. And …’

They both stared at me. Neither of them was going to speak, so I had to.

‘… it’s not what I saw that night in netball.’

Regan’s mouth opened wide and her face grew about a foot in length. ‘So you
did
see it! I knew it, I knew you saw it!’

‘Keep your voice down. I don’t want to frighten Tabby.’

Clarice started biting her other hand, which had even less fingernails. ‘So you’ve definitely seen it? What, recently?’

‘About a week ago, I think. I don’t know. But it didn’t come anywhere near me and it didn’t look like a wolf.’

Regan’s face was full of alarm. Her glasses steamed up. ‘This is bad, isn’t it?’

‘I’ve no idea
what
this is,’ I said. I caught my breath. Call it bravado or a death wish, but I just wanted to see it for myself now. I wanted to scare it away. I wanted to do something; something other than just being afraid. ‘I’m going to go out. And take a look round.’

‘Are you mad?’ said Clarice. ‘Why would you do that? Why would you go outside when clearly something horrible is out there, waiting to attack you?’

I shrugged and looked at Regan.

‘I’ll get the javelins,’ she said.

Regan and I suited ourselves up in jumpers and coats and snuck out the side door to the kitchen so that nobody would stop us from going. Not that anybody would have. Maggie was still too traumatised, Tabby was too young, Clarice thought we were nuts and Dianna had gone AWOL.

I slowly turned the knob and we stepped out into the clawing cold air. The whiteness was still startling, but we could pick out landmarks on the horizon—hedges, fences, walls, follies.

Regan stepped forward and peered around the corner in both directions. ‘Clear.’ I joined her on the path of the formal terrace. Looking down, I saw she had two small spray cans in her grasp. One was a half-empty Dove 48h, the other was a travel-sized Elnett Super Hold, almost full. She’d taken them both from the Saul-Hudsons’ en suite.

‘Thought you could spray it in its eyes or something if it gets too close,’ she said, handing me the Dove one.

‘Thanks, Regan.’ I took the can from her and stuffed it in my coat pocket.

Snow crunched beneath our boots as we walked, slowly and determined, our breath clouding as we breathed. Every sound was a threat.

Something wasn’t right. I couldn’t put my finger on what, but there was a charge in the atmosphere. It wasn’t just me and Regan outside. There was something else out here too.

My heart thrummed painfully as we rounded the building, making our way down the steps towards the formal gardens and the Great Plat on the west side of the school.

‘You need anger and you need fear. You’ll think better,
’ I heard in my head.

Seb’s voice. Karate on the rug.
Always teach not by words but by example. Only a true attack has a true defence.

He was always telling me that fear was a good thing to keep you on your toes. I never believed him. I still didn’t. Regan didn’t look scared at all. The javelin was grasped in her left hand, her eyes ahead, always searching. Waiting. I remembered what she’d said about her grandmothers. She wasn’t afraid of the Beast. The Beast was the cancer. The Beast was her fear. The Beast was how people saw her at the school.

It was everything she wanted to get rid of.

‘It’s got much colder, hasn’t it?’ Her breath was a cloud in her face.

‘Yeah. The barometer in the Hall read six below.’

‘I’ve got a hole in my glove.’

‘I’ve got a hole in my tights.’

I laughed, even though it wasn’t funny. Regan smiled.

All was still and unthreatening as far as the eye could see. The ponds were frozen in the Ladies Garden and the Rotunda, and nothing had disturbed the places where little white piles of snow had settled on tree branches, hedges
and the tops of walls. A choir of frosty crocuses hung with bowed heads to our left. Not a sound came. No birdsong even. Everything the same.

Until I looked down.

I nudged Regan, and she followed my line of sight to the pathway beneath our feet, leading up some slate steps to the formal garden and borders, which the kitchen window overlooked. There were footprints—small and semi-circular, like they’d been made by hooves—dotted in a straight line towards the steps, up the steps, and beyond.

We followed them.

‘Why would they be hoof prints, Nash?’

‘I don’t know,’ I whispered, steadying my javelin in my fist.

‘What the hell has two hooves?’

‘I don’t know,’ I said again, quietly, as we followed the line of prints towards the kitchen window. ‘Mr Tumnus? The devil?’

Suddenly Regan’s eyes widened and she thrust her javelin directly forward, missing my face by inches. I gasped and ducked away just in time.

She screamed. I screamed. Her target screamed, diving to one side as the javelin flew past its head and stuck solidly into a holly bush. The Beast was a man. A man with a navy-blue Bath University hoody on and Nike high-tops and jeans. A man with a wolf’s head.

Quickly, I pulled out the little can of hairspray, pressing the nozzle right in the wolf’s face. I kept it there until it started speaking.

‘What the hell are you doing? Stop. Get off me!’ said the thing beneath the wolf-head, launching into a coughing fit. Two pink hands fumbled to rip off the head, and there before
us stood a sweaty, red-faced Charlie, breathless and annoyed, his blond hair sticking to his forehead. I stopped spraying and threw the can into the hedge.

‘Oh my God, you scared the crap out of us!’ I shouted, hitting him squarely in the arm.

‘What? What the hell are you two on? You just nearly kebabbed me!’

‘We thought you were the Beast!’ Regan ran to retrieve her javelin from the bush.

‘The Beast?’ he laughed. ‘It was supposed to be a joke.’

‘It was you at the back door? You attacked Maggie?’

‘Yeah.’ He smiled. ‘I actually came in peace. I brought the mince pies missing from your order the other day.’ He pointed to a white carrier bag sitting in the flower border, containing five boxes of iced mince pies. It was almost invisible amid the snow. ‘I put a free box in for the inconvenience. The wolf mask was an afterthought, really.’

I was ripped apart by feelings of anger that he’d done something so idiotic after everything we’d been through and happiness that he was here and he had forgiven me for running off from our date the other day. I wanted to kiss him and hug him and punch him all in one go.

‘Were those your footprints in the snow?’ said Regan.

‘Where?’

‘On the path between the borders.’

‘Oh, yeah. Probably.’

‘They look like hoof prints.’

‘I was on my toes. I saw Maggie in the window and I was trying not to make a noise.’

‘You freak!’ I shouted at him. ‘Do you have any idea what’s happened to us?’

‘Oh, come on, it was a joke,’ he said, gesturing towards
the limp wolf mask in his hand. ‘S’good, isn’t it? I saw it at the fancy dress shop in Bathory Gorge the other day and I went back and got it. You shoulda seen Maggie’s face when I scared her at the back door. It was classic. I got her good and proper that time.’

‘She was terrified, Charlie,’ I told him. ‘We all were. You’ve gone too far this time.’

‘Oh come on,’ he said, willing us to smile and see the funny side. Neither of us did.

‘No,’ I told him. ‘Things have changed now. Pranks are over.’

‘We’re in big trouble,’ added Regan.

‘What do you mean?’ he asked. ‘And why’s there a dead sheep in your driveway?’

We went into the kitchen and told him all about it, behind the safety of our locked main door. We were all starving hungry and ate up both the cheese pie and the mince pies Charlie had brought us as we told him everything. About Matron. About Leon. About the menacing blizzard that had kept us awake night after night. About the phones. About the blood. With repeat choruses of ‘It’s a bloody nightmare,’ and a close group harmony of ‘What are we going to
do
, Charlie?’

‘Hmm,’ he said eventually, when all the nuts of information had been gathered. ‘Hmm,’ he said again. And ‘Hmm,’ he said, once more.

‘So you’ve not got any bright ideas either then?’ said Maggie. Tabby climbed up onto the draining board, Babbitt ear in mouth, so she could sit beside her.

‘No. Well, we’re gonna have to get you lot out of here, aren’t we? I’ll use my phone to call the police. That would
be a start.’ He patted his pockets, like a best man pretending to have forgotten the ring at the crucial moment.

Except Charlie wasn’t pretending.

My heart dropped like a stone. ‘Don’t tell me.’

‘I left my phone at home. It’s charging. I thought I’d only be an hour.’

I shook my head. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Why did you walk here?’ said Maggie, accusing him with her tone. ‘We could have used your car to go and get someone.’

‘I thought if you saw my car coming up the drive, my cover would be blown.’ He nodded towards the wolf mask, lying on the kitchen table. ‘Plus, the roads round here are pretty dicey at the moment. It snowed again last night. It’s better to walk when it’s like this.’

‘Maybe we could risk walking then?’ said Regan, still clutching her javelin like a Roman sentry. ‘It’s still quite light.’

‘But it’ll be dark soon,’ said Clarice. ‘That’s when It comes. I’m not risking my life.’

‘Well, look,’ said Maggie, extricating herself from Tabby’s hug and smacking both hands decisively onto the metal table, which wobbled where the wheels weren’t braked. ‘The school minibus is here, right? He can drive us all out of here and we’ll go to the police station at Toppan. Or at least the nearest phone box.’

‘Charlie just said the roads were dicey,’ said Regan, giving her the most withering look of her collection.

‘Yeah, but we could risk it,’ said Clarice, backing Maggie up on something for the first time ever.

‘I dunno,’ said Charlie, biting his thumbnail. ‘I don’t feel
confident about taking all of you at once. I say I go alone, or take one of you so you can tell the police the whole story.’

I looked at him. ‘I don’t think any of us should go out there. Leon was attacked, Charlie. I’ve seen the teeth marks on his leg. You haven’t.’

Tabby was looking at me, still cross-legged on the draining board, sucking the life out of Babbitt’s ear. I felt awful for admitting the truth in front of her now, but times were changing and she was here dealing with them as much as we were. ‘I’ve seen it. A few times actually. It’s a huge catlike thing. And it has yellow eyes. I don’t know if it’s got Matron or Dianna but if it hasn’t then where the hell are they both?’

Clarice frowned. ‘Hang on, Leon said it had red eyes. It attacked him, it was
on
him and he said it had red eyes. I heard him say that. Didn’t you?’

‘Yeah,’ I said. ‘I heard him say that. But it has yellow eyes. It definitely has yellow eyes.’