The Book of Beasts

by John Barrowman

  It’s not your dad any more, he repeated to himself. It’s not your dad.

  ‘Keep your eyes and your imagination with the Grendel,’ Jeannie coaxed. ‘You must be able to control it, or we will never take it through the portal. And you must do that, Mattie. You must put the last beast in with its kind, into Hollow Earth forever.’

  ‘I can do that,’ croaked Matt, doing his best to disguise his pain with a weak grin.

  ‘I have faith in you.’ Jeannie leaned closer. ‘Son, I’m so sorry but this is going tae hurt.’

  Before Matt had a chance to prepare himself, Jeannie yanked the bone quill from his side and placed it in Matt’s hands. The pain was blinding. There was a ripping sound as Jeannie tore a piece of fabric from her blouse and packed it into the wound.

  Hundreds of smoky tendrils with gaping mouths swarmed over Malcolm’s body as the Grendel sucked blindly at Malcolm’s engorged heart. Seconds later, only bones remained on the cave floor. Matt knew his dad had become something ugly, a festering monster riddled with hate. But he couldn’t help himself. Tears streamed down his cheeks.

  ‘Mattie, son, can ye hear me?’ Jeannie said gently.

  Matt swallowed and nodded.

  ‘You’re doing fine, son. Stay with me.’

  Jeannie turned to Solon and Carik. ‘Take care of yourselves,’ she said. ‘Find a way to heal these islands.’

  ‘I hope we meet again some time,’ Matt told Solon and Carik. It was an effort to speak. ‘Thanks for helping me, both of you.’

  ‘Now scat,’ said Jeannie with a smile.

  Solon and Carik left the cavern. Matt felt their loss immediately.

  The stench from the Grendel filled the cave with a sickening mustard fog as its hunger swept towards Jeannie. It began to move.

  ‘We have to open Hollow Earth right now, Jeannie,’ whispered Matt. ‘I want to go home.’

  Jeannie squeezed his hand. ‘Then draw, son. Draw, like our lives depend on it.’

  Matt knew that they did.

  Matt released the Grendel from his mind. Swiftly, he turned his eyes to the manuscript page and began to draw.

  The Grendel lurched forward and touched the etching of the hellhound with the shapeless tip of its bloodied nose. At its touch, the hellhound’s heads snapped forward. Its paws tore from the wall as it hurled itself out of the drawing, straight into the wide sucking mouth of the Grendel.

  A great silver helix spun slowly against the cavern wall where the hellhound had leaped from the stone. It was rotating, getting faster, sending blinding ribbons of light out into the cavern.

  ‘Ready, Mattie?’ said Jeannie.

  Matt pictured his family, sitting round a roaring fire at the Abbey. He was going home. Somehow.

  ‘Born ready,’ he said.

  The Grendel seemed calm now, as if it knew where it was going. It needed only the smallest nudge to put its head up against the spinning helix. The helix flexed and widened, pulsing like a great white heart, enveloping the monster.

  Jeannie took Matt’s right hand as he finished the drawing. ‘Now!’ she cried.

  Matt and Jeannie stepped behind the beast and into the silver light.

  SIXTY-SIX

  Auchinmurn Isle

  Present Day

  Zach searched for Em in every room of the children’s floor of the Abbey as carefully and quietly as he could. He trusted that his movements were stealthy, and that he was opening and closing doors without much sound. He also knew from nights when he and Matt would sneak into the kitchen for slices of pizza or Jeannie’s cake which floorboards on the Abbey’s back staircase squeaked.

  After a fruitless hunt in the kitchen, he moved across the foyer and into the library. Maybe she’d fallen asleep reading. It wouldn’t be the first time.

  He had only taken a few steps into the room when an intense pulse of light exploded in his brain, dropping him to his knees. He squeezed his eyes against the pain and gagged at the taste of salt and seaweed in his mouth as the vision flickered in front of his eyes.

  Em was holding the reins of a gilded seahorse as she drove a golden chariot across the bay. She was dressed like a warrior in silver chain mail, a steel-grey breastplate and a purple cape that matched the streak in her hair. A quiver of arrows hung from her shoulder. The cape was veined with threads of silver, and billowed out behind the ethereal-looking chariot. An army of smaller but equally resplendent seahorses in a rainbow of colours followed behind her.

  The image disappeared in a flash, leaving Zach on the library floor with floaters dancing in front of his eyes. His nose was bleeding.

  Wiping the blood with the hem of his T-shirt, he got to his feet and bolted from the library. He didn’t care about the pounding at the base of his skull or the blood at the back of his throat. He could sense Em at last, and his mind was awash in her pale violet light.

  He knew exactly where he’d find her.

  Zach burst back into Em’s bedroom, skidding across the sopping wet floor. Em was soaked and shivering, lying in a fetal position directly beneath the pulsing image of her comic-book drawing.

  Zach gazed once again at the centre image of the warrior princess riding across the waves on her golden chariot. It was still pulsing with the energy and light from an animation.

  Grabbing a blanket from the bottom of her bed, he stripped Matt’s soaked hoodie from Em’s body and wrapped her in the soft blanket. He was about to toss the hoodie aside when Em’s eyes snapped open.

  ‘No!’ she cried, grabbing it from Zach’s hand and pressing its soggy folds to her chest.

  Shh, Em. It’s OK. It’s going to be OK.

  Zach pulled her close as she shivered and cried, wrapping her tightly in his arms and sending calm and soothing thoughts into her mind. Em relaxed against him at last.

  For a while they sat together on the floor of her room, saying and thinking nothing. Zach pulled a handful of long, sparkling silver threads from Em’s hair. When he brushed them to the ground, they sparked and fizzled, then disappeared.

  Em opened her eyes and smiled up at him sleepily.

  Hey.

  Hey to you too. What happened? Where have you been?

  Oh, Zach, I’m so happy to see you.

  She lifted her hand and touched his chin, sending a jolt of electricity through him. He tugged out a fresh glittering strand of silver from her hair and held it before her eyes.

  You fell out of your own comic book?

  Em sat up, pulling the tarp tighter round her body, the light of memory in her eyes. She looked around the room at her familiar belongings. I just… imagined myself into it. And now I’m here. With you.

  She grinned broadly at Zach. As her intense feeling of accomplishment flooded his mind, Zach returned her smile. It was impossible not to. Then he pulled her into a hug.

  He pushed her away again almost at once.

  Jeez, Em, you’re burning up. I need to get your mum.

  Em’s teeth had started chattering. It’s the effort of animating by imagination. I’ll be fine. I just need to… sleep…

  Her eyes rolled under her eyelids and she passed out.

  SIXTY-SEVEN

  Henrietta de Court did not like to lose.

  ‘Mon dieu!’ she hissed in rage, staring at the space where, moments earlier, Em had been lying. ‘You could not think of one thing to animate that might have kept her here?’

  Tanan scowled in response, rubbing at the welt on the side of his face where Henrietta had slapped him.

  ‘And you,’ Henrietta spat, whirling round to Mara. ‘What about you? Useless, the pair of you. Now she is gone and we have no means of returning to the past to help my son! I should have got rid of you both, years ago, the last time we had this kind of trouble.’

  ‘You need us,’ Tanan said sullenly. ‘You are just a Guardian.’

  Henrietta pursed her lips. He was right. That reality had driven her ambition and fuelled her son’s rage.

  ‘There now, my dears,’ she said, alterin
g her tone. She smoothed Mara’s long silky hair from her face and wiped the tears from her cheeks. ‘Let us say no more of this. We will simply retrieve Emily and begin again.’

  Mara seemed grateful for the reprieve. Tanan remained watchful. Henrietta admired Tanan’s ambition almost as much as his skill as an Animare, but she sensed that when Malcolm returned, he might not be so pliable. She did not have the strength to keep him under control for the rest of her life. When the time came, she would seriously have to consider which Animare was the most use to her.

  ‘She has undoubtedly alerted the Abbey to our whereabouts,’ she said briskly. ‘So the first thing we must do is abandon this charming abode.’

  ‘And then what?’ asked Tanan.

  ‘And then we watch, we wait and we try again.’

  ‘If we couldn’t convince the girl to bend to our will this time, then what makes you think we’ll be more successful a second time?’ Tanan demanded. ‘Renard and Sandie won’t let her out of their sight when they find out what happened. Add Vaughn and Simon to her own private security team, and we may not get another chance.’

  Henrietta tipped out the contents of Em’s backpack, which had remained on the bed where Em had left it. A torch, a sketchpad, two nubby pencils, balled-up tissues, a KitKat bar, a photograph of Matt and bag full of scrapings from the stones at Devil’s Dyke. Henrietta looked at the photograph of Matt first.

  ‘He is his father’s double,’ she said, smoothing the picture out with her thumb. ‘Such a handsome boy.’ Slipping the photograph into her pocket, she picked up the bag of scrapings next, turning it over in her hand. ‘What are you up to, ma biche?’ she said thoughtfully.

  She stared at the bag for a while longer before returning it and the other items to Em’s pack.

  ‘Do you have something?’ said Tanan, watching the expression on Henrietta’s face.

  Henrietta smiled. ‘I believe Emily will take us to Malcolm after all.’

  She pulled on the crofter’s tweed jacket and headed for the door.

  ‘Where are we going?’ said Mara, quickly dousing the fire. Tanan rolled the tapestry and hoisted it over his shoulder.

  ‘Era Mina,’ said Henrietta, stepping out into the chill of the night. The moon was dark, hidden behind a veil of clouds. ‘Tanan, cherche pour nous un bâteau. A boat. And I need a warm coat. Fur.’

  SIXTY-EIGHT

  Em’s vital signs were strong and she would make a full recovery. The adults had gathered in the library now, and were standing in a row, looking at Zach with the air of war-time interrogators.

  Zach decided to pre-empt them.

  ‘What do you want to know?’ he signed wearily.

  ‘Everything,’ said Sandie at once. ‘Where has Em been? What has been happening?’

  ‘I’m still puzzling the details out for myself,’ Zach admitted. ‘But I think she went out by herself earlier, and got into some kind of trouble. To escape, she imagined herself into her comic-book drawing. Then she fell out of the picture and into her room. That’s where I found her. That’s what she said.’

  ‘Well, I’ll be damned,’ said Vaughn in wonder. ‘She’s figured out how to fade. Took me years of training to access my imagination in that way, and she did it without any practice into one of her own paintings. Outstanding!’

  Sandie glared at Vaughn. ‘There’s nothing outstanding about my daughter putting herself in mortal danger.’

  ‘What else, Zach?’ prodded Simon. ‘What’s Em been up to? She’s been very secretive lately.’

  ‘Does it have something to do with Jeannie’s shed?’ Sandie added, glancing at Vaughn. ‘Vaughn and I saw you both heading that way the other night.’

  Zach hesitated. Em had sworn him to secrecy about the painting in Jeannie’s shed. Could he break his promise?

  He felt the vibrations as Simon angrily banged the library table. ‘No more secrets! Em’s life… Matt and Jeannie’s lives depend on this.’

  ‘We know Henrietta is on the island,’ Vaughn signed from the window. ‘It’s unlikely she’s here alone. My guess is that Tanan may be with her. Maybe Mara too. Is that where Em has been? Henrietta de Court would love to put Em’s talents to use.’

  Vaughn was the least efficient among them at sign language since he had not spent as much time at the Abbey with Zach as the others. He spelled out his words more slowly, pausing at odd places in his sentences. This usually made Zach smile. Not tonight.

  He slowly exhaled. ‘I don’t know whether Em’s been with Henrietta or not. All I know is that she’s created a painting,’ he signed. ‘A triptych. She painted it over the medieval picture of Daniel in the lions’ den that used to hang in the library.’

  ‘I liked that painting,’ said Renard with a frown.

  ‘Why use an existing painting?’ asked Simon.

  ‘She wanted materials that would have been available in the Middle Ages to create what she needed. Roots and berries for paint, among other things.’ Zach thought of the roadkill hanging in the shed. ‘She’s been having visits from a ghost, a spirit she thinks is Albion. She thinks he’s telling her to paint the things he’s shown her, and then use the painting to rescue Matt.’

  Renard inhaled sharply. ‘The last time Albion appeared, it was to Duncan Fox. We know from Fox’s diaries that he painted the cave mouth to Hollow Earth shortly after that surreal visit.’

  ‘Em included a copy of Duncan Fox’s painting in her triptych,’ Zach signed, remembering.

  Simon shook his head. ‘Creating an authentic work in order to travel in time? I’m not sure that’s possible, no matter how brilliant the Animare.’

  ‘Why not?’ signed Zach. ‘Matt and Em are unique. Who knows what they’ll do next?’

  ‘I agree with Zach,’ said Vaughn. ‘We don’t even have names for the kind of combined Animare and Guardian powers that are evolving in the twins.’

  Sandie stood up angrily. ‘I have names for them. Matt and Emily. They’re my children. What matters is looking after Em, and nursing her back to full strength. What matters is bringing Matt and Jeannie home.’

  ‘When Em wakes up, she can tell us about Albion herself,’ said Vaughn, resting his hand on Sandie’s shoulder. ‘If Em is experiencing leaps in her abilities, then Matt may be too. He may already be on his way home.’

  Sandie smiled gratefully at Vaughn, setting her hand on top of his.

  ‘Show us the painting, Zach,’ signed Renard. ‘When Em wakes up, we’ll decide what to do. But we’ll decide together.’

  PART THREE

  SIXTY-NINE

  The Abbey, Auchinmurn Bay and Era Mina,

  Present Day

  Vaughn stood in front of Em’s triptych, which had been set up in the library. He looked like he was deep in contemplation. Em bit her lip, wondering what he was thinking. Was travelling back in time via the painting to rescue Matt an impossible idea?

  When she had come downstairs after sleeping for a few hours, she had been angry with Zach at first, for breaking his promise and telling the adults her plan. But remembering her helplessness at the hands of Henrietta, a part of her was glad too. She had told the adults everything that had happened to her in the cottage, in the knowledge that she wouldn’t be alone this time.

  ‘The impressions you’ve captured of this unfinished battle, Em,’ Vaughn said at last, tracing the images of Malcolm and the knights and the Grendel. ‘It reminds me of the battle depicted in the Royal Academy tapestry that Henrietta stole.’

  Renard grunted in agreement. ‘The details are different, but the image is much the same,’ he agreed. ‘You saw the tapestry at the cottage, Em. Does it now show this scene instead of the original?’

  Em remembered the ghastly beauty of the tapestry that Tanan had unrolled in the crofter’s cottage. She had been struck by the similarities too. ‘It’s almost exactly the same,’ she said.

  ‘A possible past,’ said Simon a little grimly. ‘Malcolm in victory, conquering the Grendel.’

  ‘Possi
ble but not yet fixed in history,’ Renard said. ‘Remember, time isn’t linear.’

  ‘Concentric circles,’ said Em, recalling the whirling lights above Era Mina, and the helix.

  ‘If the tapestry has changed again, Henrietta will know,’ said Sandie.

  ‘Not necessarily,’ Zach signed. He looked at Em. ‘You said they had to unroll it? Maybe they rolled it up again. Maybe now Matt’s the one standing in victory at the centre, but no one knows that yet.’

  Em smiled at Zach, feeling better at this thought. ‘Can you sense Henrietta’s presence, Grandpa?’ she asked.

  ‘I know that she’s close, but nothing more specific than that,’ Renard said.

  ‘Henrietta is skilled at masking her mind. If she has Tanan and Mara to help her, then she may have also masked her physical presence in some way. But let’s not worry about that.’

  ‘We should eat,’ said Sandie. ‘There’s macaroni cheese, if you can face it. I burned the top, I’m afraid.’

  ‘That’s why ketchup was invented,’ said Vaughn, earning a cuff on the shoulder.

  Everyone turned away from the tall windows and headed to the kitchen. They missed the brief frizz of electricity spidering over the bay outside, revealing for one short moment the animated blue outline of a sleek yacht bobbing on the water. It was gone again in an instant.

  Inside the large and comfortable cruiser, Henrietta was preparing dinner in the yacht’s galley. She squeezed a fresh lime into a mixing bowl, adding chopped garlic and crushed red peppers, blending the ingredients well. Touching her finger to the cloudy liquid, she lifted a droplet to her lips. Perfect to mask the taste of the valerian root she had been feeding Mara and Tanan for the past few days. It had only had a slight soporific effect on Tanan so far, but Mara was already beginning to think she was ill. Today’s dose, added to what had accumulated in their systems to date, would be enough to take care of Mara at least.

  Reaching into a bag on the narrow counter, she lifted out a small plastic box containing a dark green root. She cut two thin slices and chopped them finely, scraping them with the back of the knife into her lime marinade. Finally, she drizzled the poisoned dressing over two of the prawn skewers and popped them under the grill.