Adam Slater - Hunted

Melissa’s house was small and smart, with a brass plate on the door that said ‘Old Stationmaster’s Cottage’. Callum waited until he was breathing normally before he rang the bell.

Melissa answered the door herself. She opened her mouth to exclaim aloud, then clapped both hands over it before any sound came out. For a moment Callum thought she was going to hug him, and he stepped back warily. But she managed to restrain herself. Instead, she grabbed his arm with one hand and hauled him inside, holding a finger to her lips with the other hand to warn Callum not to say anything. Then she called out over her shoulder, ‘It’s one of my friends from school, Mum. Everybody’s so upset about what happened today. Can I make him a cup of tea?’

‘Right-o,’ called a woman’s voice from the front room. ‘Come in and have a chat then, if you like. Best to talk about it.’

‘Thanks, Mum.’

‘And try not to make a mess, Melissa.’

Melissa screwed up her face and led Callum to the kitchen.

Her house seemed enormous to him. It wasn’t really much more than a cottage itself, but the ceilings were higher and it was three times as wide as the Nether Marlock alms houses. The kitchen had been extended with a modern glassed-in area to make room for an ageing sofa and large pine table stacked with magazines and newspapers.

‘I’m so glad to see you,’ Melissa said with honest warmth, briskly clicking the switch on the electric kettle and banging down two mugs on the crowded table. ‘But look, I’m not going to take you in to talk to my mum. Everyone in town’s gone hysterical over this murder and she’s not too happy about me being called as a witness. What happened? Did they prove your alibi?’

Callum nodded.

‘Yes!’ Melissa crowed, slapping one palm down on the tabletop hard enough to make the mugs jump. ‘I’m so pleased! So does that mean you’re free?’

‘Depends on your definition of freedom,’ Callum said, leaning his elbows on the table and burying his face in his hands. After a moment he ran his fingers through his hair – it was tangled as a bird’s nest after this evening’s carry-on. He looked up at Melissa. ‘I think I know what’s happening,’ he said.

Over mugs of stewed tea that neither of them could drink, Callum told Melissa everything that had happened over the past week. He left out nothing, not even the details of his dream, his meeting with Jacob, or the fights with his grandmother. Even Melissa, who had been so eager to believe that Callum was a chime child, looked overwhelmed by the undeniable connection of the faceless monster with Ed’s murder – and with Callum himself.

She bit her lip, then stood up, went to the back door, and looked out into the night.

‘Come on,’ she said, and beckoned. ‘The best thing you can do – the only thing you can do – is to find this Jacob. OK, you don’t know what he is, but he’s obviously not the one who’s killing kids. You said yourself he’s a ghost, not a monster like this other thing. Maybe he knows what’s going on. He might have answers.’

‘He tried to warn me,’ Callum said, thinking. ‘But I thought he was threatening me. I thought it was him doing the killing. You’re right. I don’t know if he can be trusted, but . . .’

But whatever else Jacob might be hiding, his warning about the ‘dark reflection’ had been accurate. And now that Callum thought about it, even Doom’s howling had only ever served to protect him. It had scared him, true, but it had also scared off Ed and his gang, and even the faceless thing that was trying to kill him.

‘I don’t know if any ghost can be trusted,’ Callum said. ‘But no ghost has ever hurt me, and Jacob’s the only one who’s ever tried to talk to me. Maybe he does have answers.’

‘Come on, then,’ said Melissa. ‘He hangs out in the churchyard, right? So we need to go there. If we sneak out by the back door, I don’t need to tell my mum we’re going. I’ll leave a note, though.’ She scribbled a brief excuse on a pad and stuck it on the fridge. ‘Hopefully she won’t see it till I get back.’

‘Aren’t you afraid?’ Callum marvelled.

‘Of what? “Ancient monuments can be dangerous”?’ Melissa gave a hollow laugh, but then her face became serious. ‘Well, I guess I am. Aren’t you?’ She opened the back door softly. ‘I’m not afraid of walking through the woods; not usually anyway, so that’s all I’m thinking about at the moment. If I sit here moping about Ed I’ll just get myself down. At least your faceless monster isn’t going after my eyes.’

‘You don’t know that,’ Callum said. ‘Don’t even think it.’

‘I told you, I’m only thinking about getting myself out the door. Now just come on, before I change my mind!’

Callum followed Melissa. They made their way cautiously down the side path to the front of the house. Melissa gave the air a little victorious punch when they got through the front gate without being noticed. Callum answered her with a grim smile under the street lamp.

‘Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.’

*

The moon was rising over Marlock Wood as they came to the lane that led to the ruined church. Now Melissa let Callum lead her.

‘Do you think your Grim will be there, too?’ she asked in a low voice, sounding strangely eager. ‘Do you think I’ll be able to see it?’

‘I don’t know.’ The moonlight cast blue shadows over the old tombstones. ‘Be careful where you walk,’ Callum added, as though the ordinary danger of uneven ground was all they had to worry about. His voice sounded hollow as he spoke.

They picked their way through the overgrown graves until they came to the church.

‘It was round here that I saw him,’ whispered Callum. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’

Melissa nodded, swallowing hard. Callum gave her a tight smile and they stepped round the corner of the church.

Jacob was standing by the ancient yew tree, bathed in the moonlight. The gigantic black Grim, Doom, sat on his haunches at Jacob’s heel. They looked as if they’d been waiting there ever since the day the Victorian photographer had tried to capture their image with collodion and silver nitrate. As Jacob caught sight of Callum, the faintest trace of a smile played on his lips, but when Melissa stepped into view he frowned.

‘She is a mortal,’ said Jacob accusingly.

‘So am I,’ Callum answered fiercely.

‘You know well what I mean. She’s not a chime child. She has no connection to the Netherworld. She should not be here.’

‘Why not?’ Callum stood his ground. ‘She lives in Marlock too. Maybe her ancestors are buried in this churchyard.’

Melissa moved closer to Callum’s side.

‘Are you talking to him – to the ghost? Is he here now?’ She drew a sharp breath. ‘Can you see the Grim?’

Callum gave a curt nod. ‘Jacob’s unhappy that you’re here,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t worry. I’m going to insist.’ He turned back to Jacob.

‘Melissa’s a translator,’ Callum told him. ‘She’s not of your world, but she understands it. More than that – she’s fluent in it. I can see things she can’t, but I don’t know what they are. Melissa knows their names. She knows how things work. She’s told me more than you have, and more clearly. She can help.’

Jacob paused, and looked Melissa up and down suspiciously. After a moment he said with disdain, ‘Will she scream and run if she sees me?’

Callum carefully repeated the question, to warn Melissa. ‘Will you scream and run from Jacob?’

Melissa gave a snort. ‘Would I be here if I was going to scream and run? I – Oh.’

Jacob tilted his head towards Callum with a wry smile.