The Monster of Shiversands Cove (8 page)

A feeling surged through me.

Hope.

Maybe, just maybe, it wasn't just dogs who were terrified of fireworks. Maybe wolves were too: werewolves . . . or were
fairies
.

I leaned all my weight to one side. I was going to
force
the werefairy to turn and to fly where
I
wanted: straight towards the fireworks.

Then they began.

First, a huge rocket screeched up into the sky, then exploded in a shower of thousands and thousands of tiny hot sparks. Then there were more: more and more huge fireworks, all going off, one after another.

The sky was ablaze with a dazzling display of lights and sounds. The werefairy was trembling, panicking. He didn't know which way to go. He was whimpering and quivering, and flapping about in the sky.

Then, another rocket soared straight towards us, screeching its way over the end of one huge werefairy wing. I smelt burning. I heard sizzling. The werefairy howled in pain; then he dropped me.

I plummeted.

Down and down I went, like a stone. Then, I crash landed but not in the water. I smacked down on to the tarpaulin cover of the pleasure boat. I slid down the cover and on to the deck, and landed, sprawled at the feet of two small kids sucking on lollipops.

 

 

They gaped down at me, then gaped up at the sky. Gaped up at the hairy, flapping figure with one smouldering wing. And all three of us watched the werefairy, flapping and flapping and flapping, flapping his way out to sea. We watched him disappearing into the distance, flapping like he was never
ever
going to stop.

And then, the werefairy was gone.

 

Chapter Thirteen

Afterwards

We made it back just in time. The grown-ups found us standing on the balcony like nothing had ever happened: no werefairy, no sea monster, nothing.

Pearl had been rescued from the water by a lady with lots of long golden hair who was out swimming.

‘I was lucky she was so far out,' said Pearl. ‘She pulled me to shore, then just waved and swam off again.'

‘Busy doing some last-minute training for the triathlon, I expect,' I said.

Dad told me about the triathlon. It's a big one, in Lightsands, next week. A race in three parts: swimming, then cycling, then running.

‘Probably,' said Pearl. ‘She was a very strong swimmer.'

* * *

Talking of strong swimmers, that sea monster and all those attacks, that swerving through the water, smacking its tailfin down, I reckon they were all aimed at Harry. Maybe a monster can spot other monsters. Maybe it doesn't like other monsters being in its territory.

It certainly seemed harmless to humans. Maybe it wasn't really a monster at all, not on the inside.

Unlike Harry.

I had a
lot
of questions about Harry. Where did he come from? Why was he here? Where did he go? Were there
more
werefairies out there or just Harry?

I'll never know the answer to those questions but I don't mind, because one thing I
do
know. Battling a werefairy is a good way for two kids to become friends. And, back home, I've made a new den: a better one, with Pearl. When Rory comes to visit – happening soon – we'll show him. I reckon he'll like it.

As for Pearl, she was three, maybe four, when she saw her monster. It was a giant slug thing with big purple pincers. It slithered into next door's garden and ate their Chihuahua.

‘Mum and Dad told me it was a dream,' Pearl said. ‘But I always thought it was weird that the dog went missing the morning after my dream.'

Now she knew why.

* * *

Magnus wasn't too sad about Harry being gone because he found a note tucked under his pillow.

Dear Magnus,

Thank you for being my friend
.

I have to leave you, because I have a very important new job. I am now tooth fairy to some royal babies
.

Harry

Fifteen whole minutes it took me to decide what kind of handwriting a fairy would have.

Magnus was thrilled. ‘A note!' he said, clasping his hands. ‘I must take a picture of my note for Fairy Fenella!'

* * *

Mum turned up the next day and I knew straight away that Dad had been talking to her, telling her how I scared Magnus about monsters and pretended to see things through the binoculars. When Mum asked me to show her the cliff path, I knew she was planning a chat with me.

She was. As we stood at the top of the cliff path, Mum spoke. ‘Stan,' she said. ‘About monsters . . . all this pretending . . .'

She stopped. She stood still. She stared out to sea and went pale. ‘Oh my goodness,' she said.

I knew why. The sea monster was out there, basking, right next to Tide Island. It was floating on its back, worn out by yesterday. It had stretched itself out on the surface, frills flopping all around its head.

I could see it, clear as clear and, I realised, so could Mum. She blinked and shook her head. We walked on and the chat was over.

* * *

Magnus and Claudia never spotted the sea monster but they did spot something else.

I was building a theme park for gorillas in the sand with Pearl when I heard thudding behind me. I turned and saw Claudia and Magnus thudding across the sand.

‘Princess Splishy-Splashy,' bellowed Claudia, pointing. ‘Look. Look! She's back!'

So we looked and there she was, sitting out on the rocks of Tide Island and combing her long golden hair. A mermaid, who gave us all a friendly wave.

Pearl took one look and her jaw dropped. ‘Her,' she said. ‘It was her!
She
was the swimmer. She was the one who rescued me.'

Just then, Mum came out of Shiversands Cottage. ‘Lunch is ready,' she said. She stopped and gaped at the rocks of Tide Island, at Princess Splishy-Splashy, sitting there, waving. She rubbed her eyes and went back inside.

Poor Mum.

Maybe I'll explain to her one day, explain that the dream she had, the one that seemed so real to her when she was small,
was
real. Maybe I'll explain that she's got magic eyes.

Or maybe not. I doubt she'd believe me.

* * *

As for magic eyes, it doesn't seem to matter what you see first: a fairy, a monster, a mermaid. Once you've seen one magical creature, you can see them all.

So I'm keeping my eyes peeled.

Maybe there are goblins on our planet. Real ones.

You never know.

First published 2015 by

A & C Black, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

This electronic edition published in 2015 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

50 Bedford Square,

London, WC1B 3DP

www.bloomsbury.com

Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

Copyright © A & C Black 2015

Text copyright © Emma Fischel

Illustrations © Peter Cottrill 2015

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

All rights reserved

No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior permission of the publishers

A CIP catalogue for this book is available from the British Library

ISBN: 978-1-4729-0741-7

ePub: 978-1-4729-0709-7

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