‘You!’ he shouted. ‘Leave! My! Sister! Alone!’
The creatures were taken by surprise, but only momentarily. For every one he dispatched, two more took its place. He felt himself grow heavy with accumulated bugs and rats. They clung to his clothes, to his hair, to his ears and fingers. He flailed and whipped his head from side to side, fighting once more for his own life.
The light flared again, and in that split instant of the brightest possible light, he glimpsed how his shadow looked against the wall of the tunnel. His arms and legs were rippling with the creatures trying to bring him down . . . but even worse than that, the shadow looked deep, and dark, and enticingly safe.
A rat crawled up over his head and its snout thrust against his left eye.
He shut his eyes, and in the darkness found a new strength.
This is it, Jack thought. They’ve got me now. But I’m not giving up.
He stopped thrashing about and stood absolutely still, though it took every ounce of self-control that he possessed, as the rats and bugs squirmed all over him, noses and paws and feelers and legs thrusting at his ears and eyes and the corners of his mouth.
‘You’ll have to kill me,’ he said quietly and with great certainty, spitting out a cockroach that swarmed across his lips. ‘Because I am not joining you, not now, not ever!’
No more bugs crawled into his mouth or nose. A rat squeaked and stopped probing at his eyes with its nose. Then all at once, the mass of creatures fell away. He heard the sodden, rolling thuds as thousands of soft bodies hit the floor of the tunnel. He heard their squeaks and chitters of complaint, individual again, not a massed noise.
He felt, more than heard, a roar of frustration off in the dark, and he braced himself, ready to defend himself against a renewed attack.
But no attack came. Slowly Jack opened his eyes.
The worm-thing was gone. The rats and insects that had made it up were scurrying away, back up the tunnel, or into cracks and holes.
The shining figure had also disappeared. Several last wisps remained, gleaming off the damp bricks and mortar of the tunnel. Like the last of the insects, they soon faded.
Then the underground world was dark, and Jack was alone.
He looked down at his feet, able to see well enough – somehow – to know that he wasn’t standing where he had been before. He was under the broken ladder now, whereas before, he was sure, he had been further along the tunnel, where he had been thrown when light and darkness had first met. Something had moved him away from the creatures that had attacked him – or he had moved himself . . .
‘Jaide,’ Jack said in a hesitant whisper. ‘Are you here?’
If the worm-thing had seen his sister, he was thinking, perhaps she was in the tunnels with him.
But there was no answer, only the scurrying sound of retreating rats.
At least he was being ignored for the moment. Whatever had happened, it had deflected everyone from looking for him. The bugs were gone, presumably searching elsewhere, and the ghostly Grandma X was gone, too.
He didn’t know how to feel about her now: he was supposed to think that she was an evil witch, as Jaide did, but instead he took a kind of comfort that someone was looking for him. He hadn’t been forgotten.
‘Jaide? Come back! Please!’
Silence.
He knew he couldn’t stand there all day, calling helplessly into the shadows. While the rats and bugs were busy getting themselves together, he had to take the chance to make another run for it, even though that meant backtracking the way he had come.
There had to be a way out of these tunnels.
He ran back, following what he hoped was a faint smell of the sea. A slight downward slope was also cause for optimism. As he ran, the tunnel widened and others joined it. The smell of salt and seaweed grew stronger while the sound of the rats and insects behind him grew fainter. If only he had followed this tunnel originally, he thought, he could have been out ages ago!
A new noise reached his ears – the booming of waves, surging and thundering against the shore. He began to run faster along a lazy bend to the left, certain now that he had found a way to freedom.
The pipe straightened, and he saw what truly lay ahead.
Water. Seawater, rippling and foamy. The pipe was submerged in the ocean, and he had no way of telling whether it came back up into the air or not. He could either swim for it and hope for the best, or turn back and try to find another way.
But the . . . the . . . whatever it was that controlled all the rats and insects and everything in the tunnel . . . was behind him. Turning back wasn’t an option.
Jack splashed into the salty water. It rose steadily up his legs as the pipe angled downward under him. When it reached his waist, he held his breath and ducked under.
There was no light at the end of this tunnel. Just more water as far as his eyes could see.
For a moment, Jack seriously considered swimming as far as he could, and he would either get lucky . . . or drown. But the moment passed.
‘Where there’s life, there’s hope,’ muttered Jack after he broke the surface and took a deep breath. It was one of the sayings his father used, and it made him feel both slightly better and intensely alone. If only his father was with him now!
A tiny wave slopped across his ankles as Jack retreated out of the water. He looked behind him and saw another slowly rolling in, and noticed that the water level was rising. The pipe did lead to the sea, and the tide was coming in. Soon the whole maze of pipes would be full of sea water.
‘I really have to get out,’ Jack muttered.
He didn’t expect an answer, but he got one.
The voice, the dark, insidious voice, was back inside his head.
+Jaaackaaaraaannn.++
‘Leave me alone!’ Jack shouted. He clenched his fist and, unable to hit anything else, punched the palm of his other hand.
+Come back, troubletwister,++ said the voice. ++We don’t want you to drown.++
‘So show me the way out!’
+Join us, and we will show you everything.++
‘I already told you, I’m never joining you!’
+Never say never, troubletwister,++ whispered the voice in his head. ++Sometimes you need to change your mind. Remember, we will tell you everything you need to know. All knowledge will be yours.++
‘Yeah, right,’ Jack said. ‘What do you really want?’
+Only to protect you, Jackaran. Only to make you safe.++
‘From who?’
+From the witch. From the Wardens. They are tricking you. Turn your back on them and join us instead. We will tell you nothing but the truth.++
Jack stood shivering at the edge of the water in wet, heavy clothes. If the mental voice had found him, he was sure the worm-creature wouldn’t be far away. A second later, he saw the first white-eyed rat, sneaking along, leading a line of others, all marching in step.
‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Jack shouted. ‘I don’t know who the Wardens are or who you are. I just want to find my sister and go home!’
+Your sister is with us. Come, join her. We do not mean you harm. We will be home to both of you.++
The chill Jack felt came from more than just the cold. The darkness pressed into him again, and he ground his fists into his eyes to keep it out.
‘I don’t believe you! Go away! I . . . I refuse to listen to you! I’m not . . . I’m not here!’
Bright lights flashed behind Jack’s eyelids. His voice echoed wildly in the tunnel. The invasion of his mind reached a peak, and then suddenly it fell away. When the last impressions of his cries faded, the tunnel was silent. The rats were still there, but they were no longer marching in step. They were scrambling about in confusion, turning their heads from side to side, staring bli
ndly in the gloom.
+Ah, you see, your powers grow,++ said the voice. ++But we can teach you more than simple tricks with darkness. Far more! She will never tell you who you really are. But we will.++
Jack almost answered, but just in time shut his mouth very slowly and quietly as the rats continued to look around, staring in all directions, sometimes even straight at him, but without any sign of recognition.
They can’t see me, Jack realised. They can’t see me!
He remembered the way Jaide had looked right through him on the stairs the previous night, and how he had seemed to disappear from the drawing room mirror while playing with the pogo stick. He thought of how well he could see in the dark, when there was no light at all, and how he had escaped the creatures before, when the light had cast such dark shadows across the tunnel. And there was the whole talking-cat thing.
Powers, thought Jack. It says I have powers . . . so maybe I do!
It wasn’t such a weird thought. Since coming to Portland, he had seen far weirder things. And if it meant that the voice couldn’t get inside his head, and the rats could no longer see him, he was more than happy to accept it without explanation.
Jack slipped off his sneakers so they wouldn’t squelch, and tiptoed up the pipe. The rats grew excited as he came nearer and they raced about sniffing – but he edged past without alerting any of them. Further along, there were great mounds of ants and cockroaches, the building blocks of the worm-creature. But he got past them, too, holding his breath and creeping as silently as he could manage.
Now I’ve got to find a better tunnel, he thought. One that goes uphill.
He chose one and started along it, pausing to stifle a yawn. It was only then, the energy lent by fear fading from him, that he realised he was very, very tired. Whatever he was doing to keep himself hidden was also wearing him out.
At the back of his mind whispered a very small voice, his own, warning him that he was running out of the frying pan and into the fire. If the voice was right, and Grandma X was evil, escaping from the tunnels might be the very worst thing he could do . . .
Once at home, Grandma X appeared older and more exhausted than ever, but Jaide, still feeling hot blood burning in her face, felt the need to defend herself.
‘Look at it from our side,’ she said. ‘The bugs – the hot chocolate – the cards —’
‘Yes, yes,’ said Grandma X. ‘I understand. I would have told you everything earlier, but too much foreknowledge can send a troubletwister’s Gifts astray. Even more astray than normal. Obviously, I misjudged that. When this is all behind us, I hope you’ll give me the opportunity to make it up to both of you.’
‘Okay . . .’ said Jaide reluctantly. She wanted an apology less than she wanted answers. ‘But what about —’
‘No time for that this second. Come on. We have work to do! I’ll explain what I can as we go.’
With renewed energy, Grandma X hurried her out to the car, which had somehow started while they were in the house and was waiting with its front doors open.
‘It can’t drive itself,’ Grandma X said. ‘But sometimes inanimate objects gain a certain liveliness when they are long associated with one of us.’
‘One of what?’ asked Jaide. ‘A witch?’
‘I am not a witch!’ exclaimed Grandma X. The car’s wheels spun as they exited the gravel drive and shot out into the lane. ‘The proper name for what I am is a Warden. I was born with a Gift that I have spent my entire life trying to control. You’ll be a Warden, too, one day, if you can get your Gift properly under your command.’
‘How do you know that?’
‘Because it’s hereditary, Jaidith dear. Your father is a Warden, I’m a Warden, my mother was a Warden, her father was a Warden . . . and so on unto antiquity.’
‘But Mum’s not one, is she?’
Grandma X’s foot went down on the accelerator and the car rocked as they hurtled around the corner of Watchward Lane and Parkhill Street.
‘No, she is not. It is one of the trag — difficulties of a Warden’s life that we must marry non-Wardens in order to have the chance of Gifted children. It can make life very . . . tricky.’
‘Oh,’ said Jaide thoughtfully. That explained a lot about her father. Knowing Jack would be really interested to hear this, she felt yet another pang of fear for her brother.
‘Where are we going, Grandma?’ she asked, realising they were heading away from the place Jack had been captured, not toward it.
‘To the lighthouse.’
‘What are we going to do there?’
‘We’re going to raise the tide rather more than usual and flush The Evil out of the old tunnels, into the open, and Jackaran with it.’
‘But what if Jack is trapped? He’ll drown!’
Grandma X glanced at her as the Hillman shrieked past the cemetery. ‘Don’t worry. The Evil won’t let your brother drown. It needs him alive to get at us.’
‘Why?’
‘If The Evil takes over Jackaran, it will use him to attack us. Troubletwisters are particularly vulnerable to The Evil, and particularly prized by it, because if it succeeds in taking one over, then it can take over his or her Gift as well.’
‘Why do you call us troubletwisters?’ asked Jaide. ‘Mum thinks it’s just an old word.’
‘It is a very old word, Jaidith, and a meaningful one. Young Wardens just coming into their Gifts are often unconscious causes of magical trouble, and they twist and complicate any existing trouble as well. And believe me, there’s always trouble somewhere.’
‘You’ve been fighting The Evil a long time, haven’t you?’ said Jaide with sudden insight.
‘All my life,’ said Grandma X. ‘Ever since I was a troubletwister like you. The Wardens are the enemy of The Evil. We stop it from getting into this world, and we have done so for centuries. If we ever weaken, all that we hold dear will be destroyed. We cannot let The Evil win, no matter what the cost. Do you understand?’
Jaide sat up straighter.
‘Yes,’ she said in a small voice. She knew very well what Grandma X was saying. They were going to try to save Jack, but his life was less important than stopping The Evil in its tracks. If Grandma X had to choose between them, Jack would lose.
THE CAR SKIDDED TO A halt in the lighthouse car park. Grandma X turned off the engine and pulled on the handbrake before leaning over to cup Jaide’s chin in one old hand, just for a second.
‘You’re a brave girl, Jaidith, and one day you’ll make a good Warden. Remember that, no matter what happens here.’
Then she was sliding out through the car and waving for Jaide to follow. Long brass rods had been rattling around inside the trunk like giant toothpicks, and it took a moment to gather them.
A restless wind sent Jaide’s hair dancing, and she felt the urge to jump up into it, up into the sky with its scudding clouds, to join a solitary seagull that was struggling to maintain a stationary position as it looked for food among the jagged rocks of the reef.
But the moment passed, and the seagull dropped down on a fish or crab with a predatory keee!
‘Bring as many rods as you can carry,’ Grandma X told Jaide, who briefly wondered if they had also come there to fish. ‘We have to stick them in the ground between the lighthouse and Dagger Reef in this shape.’
Using the tip of one of the rods, she drew a U in the ground with a vertical line down the middle:
‘This side,’ she said, tapping the open end of the U, ‘points out to sea.’
‘What’s it for?’ asked Jaide.
‘A spell, I suppose you could call it, that speaks to the ocean, asking it to bring in a storm surge of wind, wave and tide.’
‘Isn’t this going to look weird to normal people?’ asked Jaide as she hurried around the base of the lighthouse, loaded with
rods.
‘There will be no “normal” people about,’ said Grandma X with great certainty.
‘Okay.’ Jaide still felt like someone was watching her, even though she couldn’t see anyone, not even when she looked up to the top of the lighthouse and the observation rail around the light at the top.
The door at the bottom of the lighthouse was padlocked three times on the outside, so no one could be inside. Jaide wondered if anyone ever did go in, except for the workers who looked after the automatic light. It wasn’t open to the public, like some other lighthouses she’d visited.
The ground was soft after the rain of the weekend, so sticking in the rods wasn’t difficult. Jaide and Grandma X put in nine, then ran back to the car to get more. Even with only half of the trident shape completed, Jaide could see it starting to have an effect. Out to sea, the water was growing dark as the wind came, and a line of black clouds was rolling in from the horizon.
By the time the next lot of nine rods was in place, great booming green waves were smashing into the reef below, sending plumes of spray high enough for the rising wind to blow them across the lighthouse, thoroughly saturating Jaide.
‘Go and wait by the car,’ shouted Grandma X, even her powerful voice barely audible over the wind and crashing surf. ‘I have to go do something. Think heavy thoughts!’
Jaide went back to the car, fighting with every step to stay on course, not to be picked up by the wind despite her thinking extremely heavy thoughts. She was shivering and wished she’d brought her coat. But it was undoubtedly colder where Jack was, and soon would become a whole lot wetter, so she told herself not to complain.
The seagull that had been fishing at the reef was sheltering in the lee of the car. She didn’t blame it. Inside the car, Jaide wiped the condensation off the window so she could see what Grandma X was doing. The old lady was standing at the closed end of the trident symbol they had made out of the rods, one hand raised up to the sky and the other holding one of the rods. The spray from the waves below whipped around her, almost like a tornado, and the first, heavy drops of rain came spearing down, as if aiming right at Grandma X’s head.