Hollow Earth

by John Barrowman

‘I can’t see their lips clearly enough to find out,’ Zach told them. ‘But either way, I don’t think we should hang around. If we hurry, we should be able to make the half-three ferry. We can pick up our bikes on the way back to the dock.’

  They dodged out of the bus shelter and cut through a nearby garden, using the winding lanes behind the town centre to make their way back to the beach where they had left their bikes, eventually reaching the ferry with ten minutes to spare.

  On the other side of the Haylie Brae, the stranger lay sleeping. He had pulled into a lay-by and watched Matt’s caladrius circling overheard. After he’d taken his shot, he’d climbed from his motorcycle, stretched out on the grass, and, with the warmth of the sun on his face, he had fallen asleep.

  Now, as he woke, it was dusk, the sun an orange ball setting behind the peaks of Kintyre. Climbing on to his Harley, the stranger headed back into Largs.

  FORTY-SIX

  ‘Oh dear God, what happened to ye?’

  Jeannie enveloped Matt in her ample bosom the moment the three of them stepped into the Abbey’s kitchen.

  ‘Is it an eye infection?’ she asked, tilting Matt’s head, scrutinizing his bloodshot eyes. ‘Do ye have a fever?’ She placed the back of her hand against his forehead. ‘Or is this something I’m better off not knowin’?’

  ‘Probably better not knowing.’ Matt stepped away from her embrace. ‘But if it’s any consolation, I’m okay and I learned a lesson.’

  ‘Yeah, right,’ signed Zach behind Jeannie’s back. ‘Not to be such an easy target next time.’

  Discreetly, Matt gestured a response to Zach.

  ‘Is there any news on Grandpa?’ asked Em.

  ‘He’s still critical,’ said Jeannie. ‘Still in the coma. Are ye going to go and see him later?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Matt. ‘I just need to lie down for a few minutes.’

  I’m wiped. Plus I need to sleep off this headache. Do not do or say anything about what happened today to anyone until we see what’s inside Mum’s satchel.

  Em nodded in agreement.

  Without Matt and Renard, dinner was a quieter affair than usual. After updating everyone on Renard’s slow but steady progress, Mara said very little. Em and Jeannie blethered about a show on the telly that they both liked, and Zach signed with his dad about the storm, about how high the tide had come in, about how many downed trees the three of them had spotted when they’d biked through the woods earlier, their hands an animated blur.

  ‘I’m glad you’re visiting your Grandpa this evening,’ Simon told Em. ‘I think hearing your voices will help him immensely.’

  ‘Will he know we’re there?’ asked Em.

  ‘I’m sure of it,’ Simon smiled.

  ‘Do the police have any more news about who may have hurt Renard and broken into the Abbey?’ asked Mara, helping Jeannie clear the dishes.

  Simon relayed various details from the Chief Constable about the search for Sandie. According to the police, Sandie had completely disappeared. No trace of her whereabouts had been found anywhere.

  ‘The more time that passes without a ransom note,’ added Mara, ‘the less likely it is that she’s been kidnapped, surely?’

  ‘That doesn’t mean she just up and left for no reason,’ Em said frantically.

  ‘Of course not,’ consoled Mara, ‘but we can’t rule out the possibility that she left for a reason we don’t yet understand.’

  ‘Like what?’

  Simon sent a scorching glance across the table.

  ‘I guess it’s not my place to say,’ said Mara, after an awkward moment.

  Clearly the adults were keeping information back. Em felt awash with frustration. She was about to speak up when Zach intruded on her thoughts.

  Don’t forget we’re holding out on them, too. Don’t say anything you’ll regret.

  Simon topped off his and Mara’s coffee. ‘The Chief Constable has traced every plane, train, car and ferry from John O’Groats to the Isle of Wight,’ he said. ‘If Sandie’s left the UK, she has not done so by any … ah … normal method.’

  ‘You mean she could have animated something to get herself out of the country?’ asked Em, getting more juice from the refrigerator and pouring herself another glass. ‘Wouldn’t the Guardians know if she’d done that?’

  ‘Not necessarily,’ said Simon. ‘Remember, since your dad left, your mum no longer has her own Guardian. Renard had stepped into that role, but he won’t be any help until he’s well enough for us to talk to him.’

  ‘Maybe we should try to find our dad after all?’ Em said hopefully. ‘If nothing else, he might be able to tell us if Mum’s … okay.’ She couldn’t bring herself to say out loud the words ‘dead or alive’.

  Mara nodded. ‘That’s a great idea—’

  Simon slammed the pudding bowl down on the table. ‘Why do you keep going on about finding Malcolm, Mara? For one thing, no one’s heard from him in years. We can hardly afford to divert all our resources – to say nothing of the police resources – to start a wild-goose chase. For another, don’t you think if he was anywhere close – and, of course, if he gave a damn – he’d have sensed something was wrong and shown up by now?’

  ‘I’m sorry, Simon,’ Mara said calmly, ‘but I can’t help wondering if Malcolm leaving them years ago and Sandie leaving them now – well, perhaps the two events are related.’

  Em almost choked on her juice. Zach thumped her back, passing her his water. Furious, Simon stood up.

  ‘I don’t think it’s fair of you to put stupid notions like that into their heads, Mara.’ He gathered up his dishes. ‘I’m sorry, Em, but what Mara’s suggesting is really not the case. Now if you’ll excuse me, I need to check on a couple of things before we head to the hospital. Give me half an hour, then rouse Matt and we’ll head out.’

  Em cleaned up her place at the table more quickly than she’d ever cleaned up after dinner before. Mara’s theory didn’t seem nearly as stupid as Simon suggested. Not because it hurt her feelings that her dad might not care about her – because it did – but because she and Matt had considered the very same thing the night their mum had disappeared.

  What if their mum’s disappearance did indeed have something to do with why their dad had so hastily abandoned them all those years ago? Where did that leave them now?

  FORTY-SEVEN

  Zach and Em went to retrieve the satchel from Sandie’s studio. Em was itching to see what was inside, especially if there was even a remote possibility that its contents might offer some insight into what had happened to her mum, and possibly her dad as well.

  With a drawing of a lock and key she’d scribbled firmly in hand, she led the way across the Abbey compound. Zach had brought a camping torch to use inside the studio; the floodlights in the grounds were enough until then.

  It was easier to telepath than sign in the dark.

  How would we even begin to start looking for your dad, Em? Do you remember when he left?

  I remember he and my mum had a huge fight. I don’t know where we were, but I think it was in the middle of the night. That’s what Matt remembers too. In the morning, he was gone. No goodbyes. No notes. Nothing. Maybe Mara can help us? She knew my mum and dad back in the day, growing up here. But we have to ask her without telling your dad.

  I know.

  When they were halfway across the lawn, the power went out, throwing the Abbey and its grounds into darkness. Now the only illumination came from the shipping beacon on top of the tower on Era Mina.

  What’s going on?

  Maybe a power cut.

  They waited, knowing that the emergency generator would kick in soon. But in the seconds before the lights came back on, Em heard glass breaking from the far corner of the cloisters.

  Grabbing Zach, she bolted around to the rear of the building just as two figures ran from Sandie’s studio, clutching something bulky. The light from Era Mina swung around and hit Mara’s mirror installation, and for an instant it looked like a cro
wd of people surging through the trees. Zach’s thoughts were instant. It’s the couple from the beach.

  Matt! Em sent her own message almost as fast. They’re stealing the satchel!

  Jolting up in his bed, Matt was awake in a flash. Grabbing his jeans and trainers, he was dressed and downstairs, through the empty kitchen and out into the grounds in no time at all. He caught sight of Zach disappearing into the woods. Em slowed at the fringes of the trees, giving him time to catch up.

  Growing up on the island, Zach knew every tree, every stream, every clearing in the forests and glens. By contrast, the fleeing couple were ill-prepared for the island’s terrain, tripping and stumbling through its underbrush. Tiring, the woman glanced over her shoulder.

  Zach, don’t let them out of your sight. Matt and I will catch up in a minute.

  Directly ahead of Zach, the man dodged clumsily around a fallen pine. The woman chose to hurdle it instead. Then suddenly they were both gone.

  Zach inched closer to where they had fallen out of sight. He wanted to laugh at what he saw. They had sunk into the ground up to their waists, and were scrambling desperately to reach the branches of a nearby tree for leverage.

  Breathless, Matt and Em stopped next to Zach.

  They look like they’re in—

  Em finished Zach’s thought with a grin. Quicksand.

  Matt held up a pen, while Em held up her arm, a drawing of the clearing complete with quicksand dashed across her skin. Zach high-fived them, but there was no time for celebration. The couple may not have been going anywhere, but the trophy they’d taken from Sandie’s studio most certainly was. He heard Em’s gasp in his head, as clear as a bell.

  The satchel’s sinking. Get it!

  The three of them bolted from behind the tree. Matt held Zach’s feet as Zach stretched out to grab the satchel from the thick muck and pull it back to safety.

  The couple didn’t seem surprised to see them. The woman was still making vain attempts to pull herself from the quicksand, but with every move she was sinking even deeper.

  Matt crouched at the edge of the swamp. ‘We’ve been studying the history of this island. You’re lucky we didn’t drop you both in hot tar!’

  ‘If you keep still, you’ll be okay,’ added Em a little more kindly, kneeling next to her brother.

  ‘Who are you?’ Matt demanded.

  ‘Let us out of here first,’ said the woman, holding her arms in the air as the quicksand squelched around her hips. ‘Then we’ll be happy to share some personal details with you …’

  ‘You’re not exactly in a position to barter, are you?’ Matt pointed out.

  The woman scowled. ‘But we’re the only ones who know what has happened to your mum.’

  Em glanced at Matt, then at Zach.

  She’s lying. I wish she wasn’t, but she is.

  ‘You know we’re not stupid,’ said Matt. ‘I’m guessing you even know we’re Animare, since you don’t seem to be freaking out about sinking in the kind of quicksand you’d normally find in a rainforest.’

  The man raised his arms in a mock surrender. ‘You win. I’m Tanan Olivier. This is Blake Williams.’ His voice had a slight French accent, his eyes a jade-green colour Em had never seen before. ‘When your mother left London, she took something that did not belong to her. We came to take it back.’

  ‘And that’s why Mum has gone?’ Em was concentrating hard on the tone and the pitch of Tanan’s voice, doing everything she’d learned from her grandfather.

  ‘Not exactly,’ said Tanan.

  What he’s saying might be true, but he’s doing a good job of masking his real feelings. I don’t like him—

  ‘You were trying to drug me this afternoon,’ Matt said, cutting through Em’s thoughts. ‘Were you trying to kidnap me?’

  ‘We felt your mother might need a little … persuasion to hand over the item we wanted.’ Blake eyed the satchel in Zach’s arms. ‘But in the end, you weren’t necessary.’

  ‘Charming,’ Em muttered.

  ‘You still haven’t answered my sister’s question,’ Matt went on. ‘Is that why our mum has gone? Do you know what happened to her?’

  ‘When we got to the studio on the night of those unfortunate attacks,’ Tanan said smoothly, ‘your mother was nowhere to be found.’

  Blake squished closer to the edge of the muck. ‘The only reason we decided to stay on the island was in case she returned when she heard what had happened to Renard. We got lucky with the satchel in her absence.’

  ‘Enough, Blake.’ Tanan turned back to the twins. ‘When we were searching the Abbey, your grandfather was already injured, lying at the bottom of the stairs. We left as soon as we heard your housekeeper coming. We knew she’d call the police.’

  He’s mostly telling the truth … but there’s something else. It’s like he’s telling us just enough so that I can’t get underneath to the full truth. I wish I was better at this.

  ‘If you only searched the Abbey, then how did you know about the satchel in our mum’s studio?’ asked Matt.

  Tanan grinned. ‘Those clever little watches of yours. It wasn’t difficult to add our own tracker the day Blake talked to you at the café in Seaport, trying to convince you to show us your private performance.’

  Matt removed his watch and shoved it angrily into his pocket. Em left hers on, figuring it hardly mattered now. Zach remained behind the twins, the satchel hooked over his shoulder, the torch focusing on Blake and Tanan’s faces.

  ‘Who do you work for?’ asked Em.

  Blake scowled. ‘You’re getting nothing else until you get us out of here. My shoes are completely ruined.’

  Em turned to her brother. ‘What do you think, Matt?’

  ‘I think we leave them squishing in this mud. Maybe start it boiling.’

  Tanan and Blake’s eyes widened.

  ‘Nice … but we can’t do that,’ Em said. ‘Even if everything they’ve said is true, then at the very least, they didn’t try to help Grandpa when they found him. They just stepped over him like a pile of rubbish and left him bleeding on the stairs.’

  ‘Maybe we should send my dad or Mara to figure out what to do with them,’ signed Zach, beckoning Matt and Em away from the quicksand. ‘I bet they can persuade them to talk more.’

  ‘Hey! You can’t leave us like this,’ cried Blake.

  ‘Oh, yes, we can.’ Em turned, holding up the drawing on her forearm. ‘For a while anyway, that’s exactly what we’re going to do.’

  FORTY-EIGHT

  Despite their resolve in front of Blake and Tanan, Matt, Em and Zach couldn’t agree on whether to tell Simon and Mara about the couple, make an anonymous call to the local police, or simply wash off the drawing and allow the couple to flee. At that particular moment, the latter options seemed preferable to admitting to Simon that they’d broken the First Rule again.

  But as soon as the twins pushed open the French doors, Simon and Mara were waiting to pounce. Instinctively, Zach tossed the satchel into the woodpile outside the kitchen door, so that the adults wouldn’t notice it.

  ‘Where have you been?’ Simon demanded angrily.

  ‘When the lights went out, we saw two people running from Mum’s studio,’ said Em, ‘so we decided to chase them. Matt heard me in his head … and we didn’t have time to get you or Mara. Plus we were afraid they’d get away … so we decided to trap them instead and now, ahem … we’ve come to get you for … you know, help.’

  Simon paced in front of the three of them. ‘You decided to chase and trap them?’

  Em slowly held up her arm, the drawing still vibrant and shimmering. ‘Quicksand,’ she said. ‘We drew quicksand, and now they’re stuck in it.’

  Mara snorted, gulping back her laughter.

  ‘And now what?’ said Simon in disbelief. ‘You’ve left them there?’

  ‘We weren’t sure what to do,’ Matt jumped in. ‘But they’re not in any danger really. The mud’s warm.’

  Simon’s temper e
xploded. ‘Oh that’s just brilliant! And I suppose when they get free, they’ll just wander into town, telling everyone they were taking a lovely mud-bath in the middle of Auchinmurn Woods. Don’t you think we have enough going on right now without calling even more attention to ourselves?’

  Zach stepped between his dad and the twins. ‘I don’t think they’ll say anything, Dad. They seemed to understand what Em and Matt had done, you know, with the drawing. They claimed they had been sent to get something that Sandie had taken.’

  ‘They must be working for Sir Charles Wren,’ said Mara at once.

  ‘Who’s Sir Charles Wren?’ asked the twins in unison.

  ‘Next to Renard,’ explained Mara, giving Simon the chance to calm down, ‘Wren is one of the most powerful Guardians in the world. He’s the head of the European Council of Guardians. He and Renard have been at odds since your birth, with your grandfather in favour of changing the rules of binding, and Sir Charles and his followers adamant we remain true to our ancient traditions.’

  ‘He’s a very dangerous man,’ added Simon, still seething. ‘One who has never taken easily to the passive role of a Guardian.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ asked Matt.

  ‘A Guardian must protect their Animare at all costs and take nothing in return. Renard and the other Guardians could never prove it, but there have always been rumours that Wren has used Animare for his own financial gain.’

  ‘Like Grace Fortescue?’ asked Em.

  ‘Exactly,’ Simon said. ‘Your grandfather thought that whatever Wren was orchestrating, it involved you and Em. He had met recently with Guardians based in Scotland, and they were convinced Wren was plotting something.’

  ‘We must do something about those two in the swamp, Simon,’ Mara said, pulling her phone from her jacket and glancing at her watch. ‘Plus you’ve already missed the start of visiting hours. We can fill the kids in about the rest of these conspiracy theories when you get back from the hospital.’

  ‘Have the Chief Constable meet you at the swamp,’ Simon instructed Mara. ‘We’ll give you both enough time to get there before Em scrubs off the drawing and frees them. The Chief will know what to do next.’