Shadow Spell (13 page)

‘Look!'
hissed the voice in her head.

Hilary blinked. She felt a change inside, as if something had re-arranged her vision to show her what was really there. She drew in a horrified gasp.

Standing outside the kitchen, in between Hilary and the way out, was a scaly green, hunch-backed, one-eyed monster with fanged teeth, huge talons and bulging muscles that looked designed for tearing people apart. Its eye glowed redly and it was clutching a chicken leg in one hand and a lemonade bottle in the other. It was wearing a pair of torn red trousers held up with rope.

It snarled.

Hilary screamed and dived into the bedroom, slamming the door behind her.

The Thing in red trousers threw the chicken leg and the lemonade bottle after her, and lurched into motion.

Running to the window, Hilary pushed it open. Outside, the night was quiet. The bedroom looked out at the back of the flats and below Hilary was a paved path that ran across the lawn and over to the car park. At
her back the door juddered and split and Hilary screamed again as Red Trousers smashed through it, tearing the wood into splinters. It opened a mouth fringed with knives and gave a screeching roar that froze her blood. It leapt, and that one bound should have brought it down on top of Hilary, where it could shred her tender Quick body like paper and scatter her bloody remains around the room. A bit like her aunt. And her mother.

But then a miracle happened.

There was a sound like a thunderclap as the front door exploded into splinters and something tore through, setting fire to the wallpaper as it went. It hurtled into the bedroom, moving so fast it made the air spin. Just before it whacked into Red Trousers – right in the middle of its leap – and sent it smashing against the wall, Hilary caught a glimpse of something wearing a fancy waistcoat.

In a bundle of claws and teeth, Red Trousers and Fancy Waistcoat slithered down the wall and rolled on Hilary's bedroom floor, snarling and screeching as they slashed at one another. There was a sound of splintering wood and claw marks appeared in the wardrobe. Then the bedside lamp crashed to the floor and the duvet caught fire. The racket was horrible.

Hilary didn't wait to see any more. She scrambled out on to the window ledge and took a breath.

Just as she was about to jump to the paving stones way below, hoping she wouldn't break any bones, her eyes
focused on something standing there, lit up by the garden lights. It looked like some kind of weird, glittery mud-statue and it was holding out its arms as if to catch her. She blinked, hesitating for just a moment.

‘You have friends,'
said the voice in her head, and Hilary knew now that it was the voice of the spell cast by her sorceress ancestor, Senta Melana. She also knew that it was trying to help. So she went.

The night whirled around her as she fell, glad that she had put on a pair of trousers that morning instead of a skirt. It only lasted a second, but it was still long enough for Hilary to feel the dewy air slipping past her, and to see the lawn and the path rushing up to meet her. And then it was over and she was hanging safely a couple of feet off the ground, held in the arms of the weird mud-thing.

‘Jik!' it said, and to Hilary it sounded pleased at a job well done. It dropped her gently to the ground. ‘Bikik gik qwik!'

Hilary scrambled to her feet as some horrible earsplitting howls rained down from her window, closely followed by most of her wardrobe.

She ran for her car and the mud-thing followed. Behind them, flames licked the walls, billowing out of the ragged hole where the window had been. Glancing back, Hilary saw Red Trousers, bursting through the flames as it leapt to the ground after them. Only, as it hurtled through the air, it
changed shape
.

‘
Going back to Natural Bogeyman,'
murmured Senta's
spell.
‘Now we've got trouble!'

Red Trousers hit the ground running, moving so fast it was just a streak of blurred air. Hilary yelled as it hurtled past her, knocking her to the ground, then fizzed back into view, landing on top of her car with a loud
crump
. It stood there, scanning the area for any sign of Fancy Waistcoat. The car began to buckle under its weight. With a snort of satisfaction, it decided it had won the fight and turned its attention back to Hilary. It grinned horribly and drew in a long, deep breath. The mud-creature threw itself over Hilary, flattening her to the ground.

‘Firebreath,'
hissed Senta's spell,
‘keep down!'

But before Red Trousers could breathe out, Fancy Waistcoat got in first.

A tornado of fire ripped over Hilary's head and caught Red Trousers full on. It gave a last furious howl and exploded, along with the car. For a long moment the air was filled with nothing but the sound of roaring flames and the stink of oily smoke.

When Hilary finally peered out from behind her hands, the night sky was filled with black smoke and red flames. As well as the burning wreckage of the car, the fire in her bedroom had spread to the rest of the block and people were milling about outside, dressed in their nightclothes or wrapped in a blanket. Sirens echoed through the air, growing steadily louder, and flashing lights fought with the glare from the fire.

Hilary got to her feet. Her blue eyes were wide in her
heart-shaped face, what you could see of it under the dirt. She was battered, bruised and not a little scorched, and her hair looked like a pale gold bird's nest. Her clothes were torn and covered in mud and oily smuts and she badly needed a wash; and on top of the loss of her aunt, her mother and her sister she had just lost her home and all her worldly goods. But through it all her beauty shone like a beacon.

She stood looking thoughtfully at the two strange creatures in front of her. In the background, someone from a neighbouring building was handing out tea in chipped mugs to the refugees. Fire engines and police cars pulled up. People in helmets began running about and shouting.

‘You know,' Hilary said at last, ‘I think Hilary Jones died today, killed in that burning building. And I don't know what's going to happen next, but I do know,' she pointed a finger, ‘that you two have got some explaining to do. So let's get on our way, shall we? You can fill me in as we go. And it had better be good!'

A broad smile stretched across Thing number two's face, revealing a row of mismatched and very jagged teeth. His red eyes glowed.

‘It will be,' he said. ‘Don'chew worry about that!'

Skerridge was getting more and more bad-tempered as the night wore on. It was something to do with the way they kept running across new patches of Raw. It gave
him a doomy feeling inside and he didn't like it one bit. Without Jik, who instinctively knew the lie of the land, they would have been hopelessly lost by now.

‘Blimmin' Strood,' muttered Skerridge. ‘Rippin' the Drift up like a piece o' paper.'

‘Wik gik sik-sik-wik,' said Jik, studying the Land ahead.

Skerridge gave him a look that would have cooked a steak in seconds. ‘Whadya mean, souf-souf-west? Wha's that when it's at 'ome? We jus' wanna get ter 'Ilfian!'

‘He's taking us to Hilfian,' said Hilary patiently, ‘we just have to go round all this freezing misty stuff.'

Jik set off, leading them on through a patch of dense woodland. Hilary followed, with Skerridge coming last and grumbling busily. He was finding the journey hard going. Not just the strange zigzag path they were having to take to avoid the Raw, but also having to do it all at the painfully slow pace that Quick always used. He kept having to remind himself not to break into superspeed. He grinned and brightened up a little. At least there was something he could do about
that
.

‘So,' asked Hilary, wanting to get things straight in her mind, ‘this weird mist that keeps sending us out of our way is the Raw, the basic stuff of magic that the Land was made from and is now going back to?'

‘That's it,' said Skerridge. ‘It's lethal to Fabulous because they too are made from raw magic and it dissolves them on contact, taking all that they are back into itself so that they cease to be. It's also lethal to
Quick, because its sub-zero temperatures freeze their socks off in next to no time. That's why we all have to go round it, not through.'

Hilary spun around. Behind her an evil-looking kid in a duffel coat stared back from the depths of a hood, pulled forward over its pale dead-looking face. Its eyes glittered menacingly.

‘You changed shape,' she said accusingly.

‘I'm entitled. It goes with the territory, it's what bogeymen do. And this way I won't miss superspeed so much.' Skerridge grinned, showing a neat row of small, pointed teeth.

‘Even your
voice
changed.'

Skerridge giggled horribly. ‘Evil Kid With Duffel Coat doesn't speak the same as Natural Bogeyman, see,' he said with exaggerated patience. ‘You have to be consistent to change shape properly. Anyfin' else just ain't done.' He blinked. ‘Oops.'

Hilary shook her head and turned back to the path. ‘I wish we could all superspeed.' She glanced up at the sky where the moon hung, half covered by clouds like giant crows circling around its pale globe. ‘If I've gathered anything at all about the Drift, I'm betting that night in the open isn't recommended.'

‘Not recommended at all,' said Skerridge. ‘But then you've got us to protect –

The air blurred. There was a brief yelp from Hilary, then silence.

‘– you.'

The two Fabulous stopped dead in their tracks. They swapped a glance.

‘Erm … where'd she go?'

Jik shrugged.

Skerridge sighed. ‘Blimmin' BMs,' he muttered, swapping back into Natural Bogeyman. He brightened up. ‘Still, time fer a bitta superspeed, I'm guessin'. Did ya see which way 'e went?'

Up on the top of the hill, clustered together in the middle of the clump of trees, two bogeymen watched the sky.

‘'Ere, take a look at
that
,' hissed Bogeyman Rainbow. He straightened his brightly coloured tie, the movement causing the jacket of his too-small checked suit to tear a little more down the back seam.

‘
That
' was a strange wobbly effect on the horizon, as if someone had drawn a veil over the sky and it was rippling in the breeze.

‘Uh-oh,' muttered Bogeyman Polpp, his heart sinking in his chest. ‘Yer right. Looks like tombfolk t' me. Which way are they goin' d'ya fink?'

The air fizzed. ‘Over 'ere I woulda fort,' said Skerridge, popping into view. ‘What wiv you wavin' that about under their noses.' He nodded at the trussed-up bundle at their feet.

‘Strood sent us t' sort out Azork an' the tombfolk,' said Bogeyman Rainbow cheerfully. ‘So Maggot 'ere's our bait. I caught it 'angin' about in the woods.'

Maggot, also known as Hilary Jones, scowled over the top of its gag made of an old, not too clean handkerchief.

‘S'yer nickname. I chose it,' said Rainbow proudly, seeing the look. ‘S'like, yer bait, see, an' when someone goes fishin' …'

Polpp snorted irritably. ‘Blimmin' Strood,' he muttered, ‘didn' used ter do stuff like this in the old days. Snatchin' Quicks fer bait, assassinatin' people, takin' orders.'

Skerridge eyed Polpp thoughtfully, wondering what was going on in his head, until Rainbow grabbed everyone's attention.

‘They've got Maggot's scent, look!'

On the skyline, the soft ripple effect had changed direction and was headed right for them. At once, Polpp and Rainbow nipped behind the trees to wait. Skerridge went with them. Now, the hilltop looked pretty much empty of everything but one trussed-up Quick female and a few trees. Bogeymen were good at hiding and it was amazing how a large, hairy, bony bogeyman could fit neatly behind a slender tree trunk.

‘When I give the word, we're out an' breavin' fire, right?' whispered Rainbow. ‘No 'angin' about. No givin' 'em time to fan out or go up. An' certainly no givin' 'em time t' land!'

There was an outbreak of muttered yeps from Polpp and Skerridge. In vapour form the tombfolk would be vulnerable to fire, but if they touched the ground and
took solid form they would be indestructible.

Silence fell as the tombfolk billowed towards them.

From inside the hill, looking out through a thin layer of topsoil, Jik watched. As soon as Skerridge had gone to look for Hilary, he had dived into the earth and swum through it until he was just below the surface right next to where Hilary was lying.

The turquoise streak at the edge of night rippled as the hive swooped lower. The trussed-up Hilary shivered as she watched, hoping that she hadn't come all this way to help a girl she had met only once, to save a world she didn't know, just to end up dying horribly at the hands of the vampire tombfolk.