The soup was rich and red and packed with vegetables, and it warmed us up after our soaking. The thunder rumbled on outside, and the lamps in the old house flickered with every thunderclap.
“This is like something out of a horror movie,” Oscar said. “Any minute now a zombie will push against the window, trying to come in and eat our brains…”
“Stop it,” I said. “Zombies aren’t real. Are they, Aunt Isa?”
Aunt Isa tucked a wet lock of hair behind her ear. “It depends on what you mean by zombies,” she said in a calm and factual tone, as if we were just discussing some kind of exotic animal.
Why didn’t she just say no outright? It would have been so much more reassuring. Oscar looked up with an excited, freckly grin, of course he did, and started questioning the expert.
“Half-rotten cadavers crawling out of their graves to eat the living,” he said. “That kind of zombies. Are they real?”
“I’ve never heard of anything like that,” Aunt Isa said. “Zombies tend to be fairly peaceful – poor, confused souls so affected by poison and witchcraft that they no longer know if they’re dead or alive. You have to feel sorry for them. No, it’s the person who creates the zombies you should be afraid of.” She blew on her spoonful of soup to cool it down. “This business about eating the living – that sounds more like a revenant.”
And that’s when I got goosebumps for real because I knew only too well what a revenant was. A hurt and lonely girl called Kimmie had turned into Chimera because of a revenant.
“Someone trying to get back to life,” I whispered. Someone who stole lives in order to become alive enough to “crawl out of the grave”, as Oscar put it. Chimera was dead now and Kimmie’s soul was free – but what had happened to the hungry one who wanted to live again?
KA-BOOOOOOOooooooom. Yet another crash of thunder shook the house and the light disappeared for a few seconds before it came back on, flickering as if it didn’t know whether it was welcome or not.
“I think we’d better light some candles,” Aunt Isa said. “It looks like the power could go any minute.”
Oscar leaned towards me and whispered in a distorted zombie voice.
“Brrrrraaaaiiiiinnnnnsssss. I want brrrrraaaaiiiiinnnnnsssss…”
“Oh, stop it!”
Alichia returned and put the bowl with the meat scraps to soak in the sink – or rather, the empty bowl: Kitti had cleaned her plate.
“What dreadful weather,” she said. “If it doesn’t stop soon, you’d better stay the night. Then you can talk to Shanaia tomorrow morning.”
“Is she still asleep?” I asked.
“Yes, indeed she is. It’s probably my fault. I gave her a little of my universal mixture, and it’s great for getting a good night’s sleep…” She pointed to the jam jar with the leech still on the kitchen table. “Have you fed it?”
“No,” Aunt Isa said dryly. “None of us really felt the urge.”
“It’s just another wildworld creature,” Alichia said, sounding reproachful. “And a useful and interesting creature at that!”
She unscrewed the lid and retrieved the leech with practised ease. She set it down on her forearm without hesitation, where it attached itself immediately and started drawing blood.
“That’s so cool,” Oscar said. “Doesn’t it hurt?”
“Not at all. On the contrary.” Her smile was aimed at both Oscar and the hungry leech, I thought. “It numbs me first. A leech is a tiny, living pharmacy. Not only can it take away pain, it can also make the blood run without coagulating. It has been a medicinal remedy for thousands of years across the world, and it’s still being used today – even by some of those stuck-up doctors who don’t normally give two hoots for nature. There, my little friend. That’s enough. You let go now…” She stroked the leech a couple of times with a delicate forefinger and hummed to it, and the animal released its hold as if it had been trained to do so. Alichia eased it back into the jam jar. There was a little blood on Alichia’s arm, but again she hummed a couple of lengthy notes and stroked her skin, and the flow stopped. It was nothing like the bloodbath I’d caused when I tore that same leech off my dad.
“It’s clearly related to the medicinal leech,” she said.
“But if they’re so… so good for us…” I said, “then why did Shanaia get ill? And aren’t you scared of getting ill too?”
She looked a little surprised, as if the thought had never even crossed her mind.
“Of course a leech bite can get infected, just like any other wound,” she said, “and they can transmit diseases if they’ve sucked blood from people or animals who were sick, but that rarely happens. I’m as fit as a butcher’s dog, darling, and I’m never ill. Don’t you worry about me.”
I thought about my dad, who’d been lying in the grass unconscious, and who was still too out of it to remember what had happened.
“Can it make you pass out?” I asked.
“No, darling. That takes more than a single, little leech bite.”
“But what if you got several? Four or five, say?”
She shook her head. “I still don’t think so. Would you like to try for yourself? It’s fairly sated now, so it’ll only take a few drops.”
She stuck her hand into the jar and fished out the leech again, but I withdrew instinctively. Quite a long way back…
“Eh… no thanks. I don’t really feel like it.”
“No? Are you sure? It’s a useful thing for a wildwitch to know.”
“I’m game!” Oscar said, sticking out his arm. “I’ve never tried this before!”
Neither had I, but I still wasn’t tempted. I’d never been bitten by a spider or a snake either, yet that didn’t make me want to “try” it! Oscar made it sound like a new rollercoaster ride.
Alichia looked at Oscar’s outstretched arm, a little taken aback.
“Very well, my friend. Let’s see if it wants to.”
“No, Oscar, don’t you dare!”
“It’s completely safe,” Alichia said.
“It might well be,” I said. “But how are you going to explain the marks to your mum when you get home?”
Oscar quickly pulled back his arm.
“Oh, I’d forgotten about that…” he said.
An angry flash of lightning turned everything in the kitchen black and white like an old photograph. The thunder crash came rolling almost at once, and this time the lights flickered for longer.
“You drink your tea,” Alichia said. “And I’ll get you some bedding. You won’t be going anywhere tonight.”
Aunt Isa looked as if she were about to say something – perhaps she felt it was a decision we should make ourselves. But before she had time to object, there was another flash of lightning. The thunder followed instantly this time, and when the light went out, it didn’t come back on.
“Looks like we’d better find some candles,” Aunt Isa said.
Alichia had made up a bed for me in one of the turret rooms, that is, if you could call Westmark’s rounded corner protuberances turrets – they weren’t really tall enough. The raindrops pelted the windowpane, the storm raged and the trees creaked. I won’t get a wink of sleep, I thought. I was dog-tired and was desperate for a good night’s rest, but there was something about the thunder… maybe I’d paid too much attention to Oscar’s ridiculous zombie stories. I certainly jumped every time there was a flash of lightning and the shadows in the room turned pitch-black and scary.
There was a click and the door opened – softly and carefully – as if whoever was outside didn’t want to be seen or heard.
“Who is it?” I said, possibly a little louder than strictly necessary.
“Only me, darling,” Alichia said and opened the door fully. She had a steaming mug in one hand. “I didn’t want to wake you, if you were asleep.”
“I wasn’t.”
“No, so I can see. Thunder and lightning can be daunting to even the bravest. But I was wondering if maybe a cup of hot chocolat
e might cheer you up?”
She said it as if it was going to be our little secret.
It was very nice of her, of course, but the soup and the tea were already sloshing around my tummy, and I didn’t fancy anything else. I just couldn’t think of a polite way to say no.
“Er, thanks…” I said. Mostly so as not to hurt her feelings.
She came right inside, put the mug on the bedside table and sat down on the edge of my bed.
“How was your Tridecimal, darling?” she asked and patted my hand. “Was it exciting?”
The question made me feel guilty. All those animals, all those eyes… I’d promised to help, but I was no closer to finding out how, despite everything that had happened.
“It was… fine,” I said. I sipped my cocoa like a good girl, but was really wishing she would leave. Not because she wasn’t being nice, because she was – awfully nice, in fact – but I thought that business with the leeches was gross, and it was hard not to think that the hand now patting me also liked stroking leeches. It was like the few times I’d met someone who wanted to be my friend more than I wanted to be theirs – it made me feel sort of embarrassed and guilty even while I was wishing they would just go away.
Alichia was in no hurry to leave – she seemed to have all the time in the world.
“What animal did you meet?”
“There were… several.”
“Really? Well, that happens sometimes. Were you frightened?”
“Not really.”
She sighed.
“Well, I think we are making our wildwitch children grow up much too soon.” Suddenly she looked so sad that I felt even more guilty about wanting her to leave. Perhaps she was lonely. I mean, there must be a limit to how many thrilling conversations you can have with a leech.
“Do you have children?” I asked.
“One. That’s to say… I had… I had a daughter. She was your age when she… disappeared.”
“I’m sorry to hear that.”
I remembered the picture in the house on stilts. A girl with blonde hair like Alichia’s and eyes almost the same shade of raisin-brown. That must be her – the missing daughter.
And then something clicked into place. Tridecimal Night. Fair hair and brown eyes. Mum’s voice:
“Her name was Lia. Her mother was also a wildwitch, but Lia wasn’t sure if she wanted to be one herself. She… she was a gentle girl, a little insecure at times, but brave in her own way. We always stuck together and so no one ever really teased us. She had brown eyes like you, but very fair hair.”
Was that her? If so, she hadn’t just disappeared. She’d been killed. Eaten alive. Eaten by the animal she’d tried to help.
Did I remind her of Lia? Was that why she was sitting here, stroking my hand, being nice? I didn’t like to ask. But I drank a little more of my cocoa, and smiled cautiously.
“Thank you,” I said. “Now I don’t feel scared any more.”
“I’m glad,” she said, patting my hand again. “Sleep tight, darling.”
I didn’t think I’d be able to fall asleep as long as there was thunder and lightning across Westmark. But my eyelids grew heavy, in fact my whole body grew heavier and heavier until at last I was asleep.
When I woke up, I couldn’t remember where I was.
I wasn’t properly awake, and my body felt as if I had gained about twenty-five kilos in my sleep. The duvet covering me was like a damp sack of cement pushing me down into the mattress, and it wasn’t until I heard the distant rumble of thunder that I remembered the storm, Westmark, Alichia and the leeches.
I fumbled for the light switch, and I found it, but nothing happened when I pressed it. The ancient wiring in the house seemed to have given up the unequal fight against the storm.
I knew there were candles, candlesticks and matches on the chest of drawers next to my bed, but when I reached out my hand, I almost knocked over the cocoa mug.
Finally I found the matches and managed to light a candle. And that was when I spotted it. Or rather, spotted them.
Up my arm in an almost straight line, there were five round marks. And inside each of them, I could clearly see the little “Y”-shaped bite marks left behind by a leech.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
The Bloodling Awakens
Yuuuuck. I rubbed my arm as if I could erase the bites. Yuck, yuck, yuck. How did I get those?
It must be Alichia. It had to be. Unless I’d been walking in my sleep and ended up in some swamp, which was highly unlikely, so it must be her doing. And I’d felt sorry for her and drunk her cocoa and let her pat my hand… Yuck.
Perhaps that explained why everything felt so leaden? The duvet, my arms, my legs?
And if she had done it, then why? I wasn’t ill. I didn’t need to be treated with leeches.
I struggled out of bed. I had to find Aunt Isa this instant. But where was her room?
I cursed Westmark for being old and big enough to offer guest rooms to a whole army. And I cursed Alichia, who’d insisted it was no trouble at all to make up beds in separate rooms. Had she done it on purpose? So that I’d been alone, and she could put her disgusting leeches on me?
I staggered across the floor to the door. I was perfectly capable of walking, I told myself. My legs might weigh more than usual, but I could do it! When I realized how dark the passage was, I decided to go back to fetch the candlestick and luckily my legs seemed to get a little more mobile with every step I took.
“Aunt Isa?” It was difficult to whisper and shout at the same time, but I didn’t want to raise my voice too much in case Alichia heard me. I didn’t fancy bumping into her right now. “Aunt Isa!”
There was no reply, neither from my aunt – nor Alichia, luckily. I tiptoed along the passage on bare feet until I reached the next room and listened by the door. I recognized the loud snoring straight away – Oscar.
I ran into his room and over to his bed. He lay flat on his back with his mouth open, sleeping just as soundly as he always did.
“Oscar!” I shook him.
“Shaummmreubjsf,” he said, or something to that effect. Whatever it was, it didn’t make any sense.
There was a mug of cocoa on his bedside table too. Unlike me, he’d drunk all of his. Now it was true that Oscar always slept as if drugged, but I was starting to get a really bad feeling about this. I grabbed his right arm and held the candle to it in order to study it more closely. No round “Y” marks. Well, that was a good start, although Oscar would probably just have thought it was “super-cool” and complain that he hadn’t been awake while it happened.
I shook him again, and he seemed to wake up a little.
“Whaawhaaassupp?” he said, which I was pretty sure meant: what’s up?
“Look,” I said, stretching out my arm. “I’ve been bitten!”
He blinked. His eyes were narrow slits, but he was awake now.
“Coooool,” he mumbled and closed his eyes again. “Good for you…”
“No. No, it really isn’t. I didn’t do it on purpose. It was Alichia. It must’ve been. She made them bite me!”
“Why-would-she-do-that?” He still sounded rather drowsy, but his eyes opened a tiny crack again.
“How would I know? She’s gross. Perhaps she just likes watching them bite people? Or maybe…” I remembered her sad look and her hand patting mine. “… Maybe she has some freaky plan to kidnap me…”
In my mind’s eye I saw a horror movie where Alichia dressed me in her dead daughter’s clothes and pretended that I was Lia. She’d called me “darling” the whole time.
“Why?” Oscar said again, more clearly this time. “I mean, why would she do that?”
“The woman’s mad. She doesn’t need a reason. And I don’t want to be here a minute longer. We need to find Aunt Isa and get out of here.”
“What about Shanaia?”
He had a point. If Alichia really was crazy, she could have done anything to Shanaia.
“OK,” I said. “Let
’s start with Shanaia. At least we know where her room is.”
I thought Oscar took forever putting on his jumper and his shoes. I looked down at my own bare feet, and wondered if I should nip back and get my boots, but my body felt itchy and impatient with worry. We had to get going. Onwards – not back.
When I opened the door to Shanaia’s bedroom, we were met by an icy blast of wind that blew out my candle. The big window overlooking the sea was wide open, and rain splashed onto the floor with every new gust of wind. Shanaia was lying on her side in the old four-poster bed, and most of her bed linen had slipped down onto the wet floor.
I couldn’t relight the candle because I hadn’t been smart enough to bring the matches. But the clouds no longer covered the moon completely and the blue glow that fell through the open window was bright enough for us to see at least some of the room.
“Close the window,” I said to Oscar.
On the mantelpiece there was a lighter, one of those gas ones with an on-off button and a long tip, so you don’t burn your fingers when you try to light a fire. I used it to relight my candle.
“Shanaia,” I called out, not really thinking that she would reply. I was expecting her to be at least as hard to rouse as Oscar.
“Aunt Abbie?” she mumbled in a very frail, almost childish voice.
“It’s Clara and Oscar,” I said. Shanaia’s Aunt Abigael had been dead for years. She’d looked after Shanaia when she lost her parents, and it seemed ominous that Shanaia was calling for her aunt as if she were still alive. But then she half sat up in bed and looked at us with eyes even blacker and darker than usual.
“Clara,” she said. “Sorry. I was in the middle of a dream. It felt so real…” She sounded sad, as if waking up distressed her. “What are you doing here? I’m sorry I didn’t come to your Tridecimal, but I…” Suddenly she shook her head. “Something’s wrong with me. I feel really weird. I sleep the whole time and…”