The Feral Child

by Che Golden

  She began to scramble back and climb to her feet when he raised his hands and began to shriek. The undergrowth erupted around them as hidden things rushed toward her. Maddy didn’t wait to see what was coming. She ran.

  She could hear John screaming behind her, and he was getting closer. There was an angry hum in the air, and as her feet found the broad smooth path that led to the entrance gate and the parking lot, Maddy could hear a sound like fat raindrops falling on leaves. It sounded like feet.

  She ran faster, her breath burning her lungs, her heart squeezed tight with fear. “Don’t look behind, don’t look behind, don’t look behind,” she chanted. She offered up the silent prayer of desperate children everywhere: PleasegodpleasegodpleasegodpleasegodgetmeoutofthisandIwillbegoodpromisepromisepromise.

  George found the gap in the fence. She saw the white tip of his tail disappear and threw herself after it.

  As she wriggled through, a hand clutched the heel of her sneaker and began to tug. She screamed and clawed at the ground, breaking her nails on the concrete, trying to drag her way out as the hand grabbed her ankle. She kicked back hard and felt a crunch, heard a squeal. She squirmed out of the gap and into the parking lot. She was up and sprinting again as soon as she hit the tarmac, but she had not gone more than a few strides when she ran into something a lot bigger and wider than she was. An inky blackness closed around her face and stopped her breath; she screamed again and beat at it with her fists, only to be swung high into the air to find herself staring down at her grandfather.

  Chapter Two

  “Here you are! And why do I find you here? How many times have you been told not to go into the castle,” he shouted, his face puce with anger. “You could break your neck in there in the dark!”

  Maddy was too shocked to do anything but stare at him as her breath came in frightened gulps. George was barking at the hole in the fence, the hair on his back still standing on end.

  Granda put her down. “What is going on with the pair of you?”

  “There was a boy in there,” said Maddy. “He was really weird, and he tried to pull me into the trees. George bit him, and we ran for it, and I think there were other people chasing us as well.”

  Granda whistled for George, but the little terrier didn’t seem to hear him. “Come here, George, you eejit!” he shouted, and the dog reluctantly slunk to his side.

  “A boy, you say?”

  Maddy nodded.

  “What did he look like?”

  “He had red hair, green eyes, about my height. He said he lived in the castle. But no one lives in the castle grounds, do they?”

  “What did he say his name was?”

  “John. Do you know him, Granda? Does he live in there?”

  Granda stared at the fence and rubbed his stubble with the palm of his hand. The red drained from his face, leaving him jaundiced under the sulfur glow of the streetlight. “Let’s go find your granny; she has been worried out of her mind over you.” He turned on his heel and strode off toward the village square, clearly expecting Maddy and George to trot after him in the wake of his long, billowing coat. Maddy stood there with her mouth agape. Someone had just tried to kidnap her, and Granda wanted to go home for dinner?

  “Where are you going?” she yelled at his back. “Why aren’t you going to find that boy and that weird cult he’s probably hanging out with? We need to do something!”

  “Time enough for that in the morning. I’m sure he’s long gone by now.”

  “Are you at least going to call the police?”

  “No point,” said the old man. He turned to look at her. “Don’t you think you’re overreacting, Maddy? You got into a fight with another child, and now he’s a member of a cult? This is Blarney. I think we would notice if something like that were going on.”

  “So you know who that boy is then?”

  “I know of him,” he said. “There’s no need to involve the police.”

  She glared at the old man. “You don’t believe me. You think I’m lying.”

  “Maddy, don’t be starting another fight. I really could do without it tonight.”

  “Fine, be like that!” Maddy started running, ignoring Granda’s shouts. George chased after her as she ran down the lane toward the row of terraced cottages that framed one side of the village square. The little one-story houses were lit up, their warm yellow lights puddling on the tarmac of the road. The chip shop on the side that faced the castle was lit up and packed with teenagers. The night lights of the supermarket next to it cast sharp shadows on the grass of the square, while the side that faced her grandparents had the comforting presence of the Garda Siochana station, with its blue light above the door, and the Blarney Hotel, where the bar was doing a good trade tonight. They all looked so inviting, standing against the dark and silent castle, and Maddy’s legs went weak with relief as she realized she was safe.

  Until she saw her grandmother standing in the doorway with her hands on her hips. She looked really, really angry. Maddy slowed to a walk. If she could, she would have reversed.

  “It doesn’t take much to guess where you have been all this time while your supper has been getting cold,” she said as Maddy and George tried to squeeze past her. “You have been told a million times if you have been told once, young lady, that you are not to go into the castle on your own. And that fool of a dog not even on a leash—what would happen if a car came?”

  Maddy knew it was not a good idea to be a smart-mouth, but by now it was a reflex action. “Duh—he’d be killed.”

  Her grandmother was not amused. She drew herself up to her full height—all five feet and one inch—and pointed into the house. “In. That dog is to go out to his kennel right now, and you’re to get yourself washed before dinner. And look at the state of your jeans, covered in muck. You have me ashamed of my life, going around the road like that . . .”

  Her grandmother’s scolding voice drifted after Maddy as she walked through the house. She let George out into the garden. There was a metal chain attached to his kennel, and she clipped the free end to his collar. Granda’s two big hunting hounds, Pedlar and Bewley, poked their noses out of their kennels and huffed sleepily. George whined and licked Maddy’s nose.

  “Sorry, boy,” she whispered. “We’re both in the doghouse tonight.”

  “Maddy,” piped a high voice. “Maddy, Maddy, Maddeeeee.”

  She smiled and looked over her shoulder to the garden wall. Straining to see over it was a three-year-old boy with a plastic dinosaur gripped in one fist.

  “Hi, Stephen,” she said.

  “Maddy, Maddy, what do-a?” he asked.

  “Not much,” she said.

  “Come play!”

  Maddy really wanted to chill out with a DVD, but the cynic in her looked at Stephen’s golden-blond hair and big blue eyes—he would make an excellent buffer between her and Granny.

  “Ask your mom first, and then we can play in my house,” she said.

  “Mammy says ‘yes,’” called a woman’s voice. Mrs. Forest, Stephen’s mother, was smiling indulgently at her son from the kitchen doorway. “Just for an hour, and then he needs to get to bed.”

  Maddy grinned as Stephen jumped up and down, shrieking with excitement. She leaned over the wall and scooped him up by the armpits, kissing the top of his head as he wrapped his legs around her waist. He was soft and cuddly in his pajamas and dressing gown, his chubby feet swallowed up by Mickey Mouse slippers. She nuzzled his hair and breathed deep. He had just had a bath and smelled of shampoo and baby oil. As she walked up the garden with him balanced on her hip, he chattered nonsense to her, waving the dinosaur around for emphasis. She had to whip her head out of range a couple of times to avoid getting hit in the face.

  “We have a visitor,” she said as she walked into the kitchen.

  Granny turned from the oven and smiled at Stephen before narrowing her eyes at Maddy.

  “I bet you think you’re awful cute, don’t you?” she asked.

&nb
sp; Maddy widened her eyes in mock innocence. “Who, me?”

  Granny shot her one of her looks before smiling down at Stephen again.

  “Are you hungry, peteen?”

  “Oh for God’s sake, don’t be stuffing him. He’s probably just had dinner,” said Maddy, but Stephen nodded his head.

  “Would you like a sugar sandwich?”

  “Oh yuck!” Maddy pulled a face while Stephen crowed with delight. “He’s going to grow up deformed if you keep giving him stuff like that to eat.”

  “It never did you any harm,” snapped Granny.

  “That we know of,” muttered Maddy, stomping into the living room.

  She refused to speak to either of her grandparents while she ate her dinner—Stephen filled the awkward silence with his chatter. Her grandparents had only the one big room, which was dominated by a square dining table. They had an armchair each, on either side of a big black range where a fire burned merrily, and the sofa was pushed under the window, behind one of the armchairs. No one ever used it—it was just a dumping ground for coats and newspapers. There wasn’t much space for Maddy to sit in here if she wasn’t at the table so she usually kept to her bedroom. There was no hallway in the cottage—the front door opened straight into the living room—so she was never far away from the action, but Granny would not let her eat in the bedroom. Fine by me, she thought. I can handle bad vibes much better than these two. No one cares that I get bullied and was nearly kidnapped. There should be a policeman here right now.

  Granda was the first to crack. He had settled himself into his chair with a newspaper, and when Granny banged Maddy’s plate down in front of her, he looked over the top of the paper and pulled a face at them both to make them laugh. Stephen giggled, but Maddy gave Granda a filthy look from the corner of her eye.

  “You’re nowhere near as big as you like to think you are, Maddy, but carry on like this and I’ll soon put a stop to your gallop,” said Granny as she settled into a dining chair opposite. Maddy looked at Granny’s left ear and deliberately unfocused her eyes. That always drove Granny crazy.

  “Look at me when I’m talking to you, or there will be no TV all weekend,” said Granny.

  “No Shrek!” wailed Stephen, his eyes brimming with tears.

  “Not you, pet,” soothed Granny, and the little boy smiled and carried on eating his sandwich.

  Yeah, right. It was all talk. Maddy had been living here a year, and neither of her grandparents had ever disciplined her.

  “I would have been home a lot sooner if that boy hadn’t stopped me,” she said.

  “What boy?” asked Granny.

  “It’s nothing, Maureen. Children’s foolishness,” said Granda. “Best not to get involved. Otherwise it will turn into World War Three.”

  Maddy could have flung her plate at him. Foolishness?! Her right hand was stiff and turning purple with bruises. It hurt, actually hurt, to hold her knife to cut her food. She was sure a nice set of bruises was developing on her arms as well, not to mention the fact that the boy had scared the living daylights out of her.

  “What boy?” Granny asked again, glaring at Maddy.

  “I got into a fight with some kid who claims he lives on the castle grounds and who then tried to kidnap me, but apparently it’s no big deal,” said Maddy, sarcasm dripping from her tongue.

  Granny narrowed her eyes at her. “What do you mean, he tried to kidnap you?”

  “He was trying to pull me into the trees. Said it would be easier if I went with him.”

  “Did he ask you to play?” asked Granda.

  Maddy looked at him out of the corner of her eye.

  “Yeah.”

  “And you said no, I suppose?”

  “What’s that got to do with anything?” said Maddy.

  Granda sighed. “It means he was upset that you didn’t want to play, not that he was trying to kidnap you. Why would a child kidnap another child? It doesn’t make sense.”

  Maddy looked down at her plate and scowled. Her arm ached way too much for that boy to be considered merely upset.

  Granny tutted. “All the same, a boy bullying a little girl—I am sure his mother is very proud of what she’s rearing,” she said. “Bartholomew Kiely, first thing in the morning you’re going to find out who that boy is, and I am going round to have a word with his mother.” Granda grunted and rattled the paper.

  Maddy smirked. Justice.

  Stephen had been staring at them while they argued, his big blue eyes wide. Maddy stroked his hair while she ate with one hand and he licked his plate for any loose sugar. Now he was making his dinosaur march along the pattern, roaring loudly, while Maddy made as much noise as she could scraping up the last of her dinner.

  She could see Granny’s lips thinning in irritation, but Granda tried to make peace. “Come here to me, peteen, and I’ll tell you a story,” he said, putting down his paper and holding an arm out to her.

  Maddy shook her head and glared up at him from beneath her unruly mop of brown hair. “Not in the mood.”

  Granny tutted. “A wee story won’t hurt.”

  “Godzilla, Godzilla!” squealed Stephen, banging his plastic dinosaur on the tabletop.

  Maddy looked at Stephen and sighed. There would be no putting him off now—he would cry if he didn’t get a story. She pushed her chair back from the table and patted her lap. “Come and park your bum,” she said.

  Stephen toddled over and climbed up on to her lap. He crossed his legs and leaned his head against her chest, popping a thumb into his mouth. She put her arms around him and wrapped her fingers around his bare ankles. They were cold, but Stephen didn’t seem to have noticed.

  “Did I ever tell you the story of Jenny Green Teeth who lives in the river that runs through the village?” asked Granda.

  Maddy rolled her eyes. “Yes,” she sighed, but it didn’t stop him. Maddy spent the next half an hour listening to stories of elves and sprites and all manner of things that go bump in the night, all of whom seemed to live on the castle grounds. It was so obvious, it was tragic. Does he not get that it doesn’t stop me going in there? she thought. The castle was cool and free of the village idiots who lived around here and populated her family. Her fingertips traced circles on Stephen’s baby-soft skin, wondering at the feel of his tiny ankle bones.

  She was beginning to doze off in the heat of the fire, Stephen’s head lolling against her chest, when Granda gave her a nudge.

  “Are you listening to me, Maddy?”

  “Yes.”

  “Then tell me the rules.”

  “What rules?” asked Maddy as she rubbed her eyes.

  “What do you do if you meet a faerie?”

  “This is stupid. I want to go to bed.”

  “After you tell me the rules,” said Granda.

  Maddy sighed and thought for a second. “Never run, because they like to chase.”

  “Good girl,” said Granda. “What’s next?”

  “Don’t eat or drink with them”

  “Because . . .” he prompted.

  “Because you will never be satisfied with mortal food again. Don’t listen to their music or dance with them either because their idea of getting down with the homies is apparently so awesome that you’ll stare at them like you’re brain-damaged for months on end.”

  “Be serious,” he said.

  She looked at him. “We’re talking about faeries.”

  “And they are always listening, so be respectful,” warned Granda. “What else?”

  She sighed and looked into the fire. Stephen’s sleepy weight was warm and comfortable in her arms. She wished Granda wouldn’t try so hard to make her believe this stuff. She rattled off the rest of the rules in a bored monotone. “Never make a vow with them, and never strike a bargain, because they don’t make deals unless it’s in their favor, and always wear iron, because it hurts them.”

  “Good girl.” Granda gave her a kiss on the cheek.

  “Bedtime for this little one, I think,�
� said Granny. She leaned down and pried a sleeping Stephen out of Maddy’s arms, his dinosaur still clutched tight in one dimpled hand. His heavy lids blinked open once and his head fell against Granny’s shoulder as he snored softly. “I’ll bring him home while you get ready for bed. Mary will be missing him.”

  Later that evening, as Maddy was lying in bed half asleep, her bedroom door swung open. Granda was a dark shape in the doorway, blocking the soft glow of the lamps in the sitting room.

  “A little something to help you sleep,” he whispered.

  “George!” she squealed, as the terrier bounced into the room and jumped on to the bed. He cuddled into the crook of her arm. Maddy was delighted to have him in bed with her, but Granda never, ever allowed a dog in the house, and he really must have had to argue with Granny to allow her to have a dog in the bed. She could hear pots and pans being banged about in the kitchen, which meant Granny was not happy. Something was going on.

  “You do believe me, about what happened with that boy, don’t you?” Maddy asked.

  “I do, pet, but there is no point worrying your grandmother,” he said. “I’ve got something for you. It used to be mine when I was your age.” He pulled a necklace from his pocket and bent down to tie the clasp around her neck. It was a little iron cross, cold and rough on her skin. Maddy fingered it, a frown puckering between her eyes.

  “You don’t really believe in all that stuff about faeries, do you?” she asked.

  Granda smiled. “I think you should believe in everything, and then nothing can surprise you.”

  “Really? So you’ve got the whole Allah-, Buddha-, Vishnu-thing going on as well then? Interesting. I must tell Father Damian the next time we’re at Mass.”

  He laughed. “Don’t be cheeky.” His face turned serious again. “You know the Samhain Fesh is only two days away?”

  “You mean Halloween?”

  “I mean Samhain—some of us still remember the old ways, and if you want to make a claim on being Irish, you should get to know your history.”