Adam Slater - Hunted

‘What happened when Mum moved into our flat in the town?’

‘Some of the spells I made worked on you directly. And I added some charms over your mum’s window boxes and around the building there in town. The spells aren’t just protective; they’re concealing. I wanted to hide you. So your powers have been hidden, not just from whatever’s out there, but also from yourself.’

Callum was still listening quietly, growing increasingly annoyed with Gran’s pacing. Then he realised that it wasn’t the pacing that was making him angry: it was what she was saying. He didn’t blame his grandmother for trying to protect him. But to do it without his knowledge, to use some sort of magic on him without telling him what was going on, that felt like betrayal.

‘After your mother died and you moved in with me, I stepped up the security. Once you’re inside this house, nothing should be able to find you. You’re safe.’

Gran finally stood still. She rested her hands on her hips and looked at Callum.

‘Safe?’ Callum blurted angrily. ‘Safe? I’m seeing more ghosts than ever. I can predict the future. The thing with no face – or with my face, depending on its dress sense – that thing is killing my schoolmates. I think your spells are collapsing.’

‘I don’t think it’s the strength of my spells that’s letting you down,’ Gran said with sorrow in her voice. ‘Quite the opposite. Your own powers are getting stronger. You’re getting older, Callum. You’ve become more difficult to hide. I thought that if I kept you away from the occult – brought you up to believe it was all stuff-and-nonsense – then maybe those powers wouldn’t be triggered.’

‘All you did was make me feel like a lunatic!’ Callum exclaimed in outrage. ‘You made me think I was the only person like this in the world!’

‘It was a gamble,’ Gran said, her hands out towards Callum. ‘I thought it might work. Sometimes a chime child doesn’t know his or her own strengths. I tried to keep your power hidden as best I could. I tried, but obviously I failed. I’m sorry.’

Gran leaned heavily against the back of her armchair. She looked old and tired, but Callum didn’t have it in him to feel sorry for her. He could not believe how much she had been hiding from him. He felt anger burning up inside him, like a volcano.

‘Well, maybe I can tell you what happened to my father,’ Callum raged. ‘Maybe this thing without a face tore out his eyes and ate them!’

‘His body was never found,’ Gran said wearily. ‘Your monster leaves bodies behind, doesn’t it?’

‘Did he even know he was a chime child, or did you hide that from him, too? What else are you hiding from me?’

‘Oh, Callum.’ Gran shook her head. ‘Part of the reason I felt so strongly about protecting you is because I failed to protect your father. Yes, he knew he was a chime child. He was so sure of his abilities, and so quick and able when he used them. There’s a set of books he studied – books passed down from one generation of chime children to the next, containing information about the Netherworld -’

‘Books,’ Callum repeated, as evenly as he could. ‘I’m guessing these would be the books on that hidden shelf up there, then? The ones you’re so precious about, you threw my friend out of the house when she went near them? Passed from one generation to the next. So they should be mine.’

If Gran was surprised to learn that he knew about the secret library, she didn’t show it.

‘I’m sorry, Callum,’ she said again, with that same weary air of defeat. ‘I was wrong.’

‘Wrong? No kidding!’ Callum yelled. ‘You’ve tried to hide me, but that monster – whatever it is – still found me, didn’t it? It stood on the patio, grinning at me last night. It chased me halfway around the school today. It knows I’m here. All it has to do is wait!’

Now Callum was on his feet, too. He faced his grandmother. ‘You didn’t want to trigger my powers? I’m being blown off the map by them, and I don’t know anything about them! What is this thing that’s after me? What does it want? What does it do – besides rip out people’s eyes? Why does it do that? How can it be stopped? Are you hiding that from me as well?’

‘No, Callum, I’m not. I don’t know how to stop it.’

‘At least tell me what it is! You say you’ve been trying to protect me all my life – now’s your chance to really do it. Tell me!’

‘Callum, I don’t know what it is.’ Gran’s voice was so despairing that Callum knew she was telling the truth. ‘But I’ll tell you what. We don’t need to stay here. If the Shadowing is beginning, we can leave. We -’

Gran broke off, clapping a hand to her mouth. Callum stared at her. A horrible twisting sensation in his stomach told him that they had reached the deepest secret of all.

‘What’s the Shadowing, Gran?’

‘It’s nothing,’ replied Gran, hastily. ‘But I’m serious, Callum. We can pack a couple of rucksacks in ten minutes. We’ve still got time to catch a train to Manchester tonight. We could be in the Lake District in a couple of hours. We can lie low for the weekend and make plans. Figure out our next move. I’ve got a friend from school who lives in Scotland -’

‘Gran. Gran!’ Callum interrupted. ‘This isn’t helpful. What do you mean “if the Shadowing is beginning”?’

‘Don’t ask me, Callum.’ Gran’s voice was desperate. ‘I can’t tell you.’

‘You have to!’

‘Callum, I can’t!’ snapped Gran. ‘It’s too dangerous. I know this is hard, but you just have to trust me.’

Callum shook his head. Maybe Gran could keep him safe, and maybe she couldn’t. Either way, he was fed up with being lied to.

‘If you won’t give me answers, I’ll have to get them some other way.’

Yanking open the door, Callum stormed out of the cottage. He stomped up the path to the front gate, shoulders hunched and head down, gritting his teeth as he tensed himself for the harrowing walk through Marlock Wood.

‘Callum, come back!’ Gran called after him in desperation. ‘It’s not safe!’

Callum didn’t answer.

He set off up the road into the dark.

Halfway through Marlock Wood, Callum began to run. His heels hit the road with dull thumps. He was running the race of his nightmare again, driven by dread, not knowing where he’d end up. But in the nightmare, his surroundings had been unfamiliar. Now he knew where he was. Now he was awake. He didn’t know if he was running towards the menace of his evil dream or away from it, but he knew it was real.

He ran out of the wood and through the tidy, empty streets of the housing estate, cars and garden walls lit faintly orange by the street lights. When he reached Marlock High Street at the top of the hill, Callum paused. He had lost all sense of time waiting in the police station, and he had no idea how late it was now. The high street, usually quite lively on a Friday night as its pubs and restaurants began their weekend rush, was deserted by the living. Maybe news of Ed’s murder had spread and was keeping people off the streets. Only the fluttering, pale ghosts came and went along the pavements. Callum ignored them. It seemed strange that these harmless shades had once seemed so frightening. Compared to what was hunting him now, they were no danger.

Panting a little as he looked around, Callum saw the sign that pointed towards the train station. The yellow-brick house by the station, Melissa had said. That was where she lived – the only place he might find the answers he needed. He hoped it wasn’t too late to make an unexpected visit. At the station approach he glanced up at the dial on the nineteenth-century clock tower and was surprised to see that it wasn’t yet nine o’clock.