The Monster

by Garth Nix

  When they had run out of things to see in the mall, they went back to Tara’s house and worked off what Susan Shield called a sugar-and-food-colouring buzz in the pool. Neither Jack nor Jaide had brought bathing suits, but Tara had spare sets for guests. They were brand-new, with their tags still attached.

  When the sun started to go down, they went inside and dried in front of the television. Tara’s mother had come home from work, and her father had emerged from his study. The smell of roast chicken was already filling the house.

  Jack tore his eyes from the television long enough to remember why they were there. Excusing himself to use the bathroom, he went up the long corridor to Mr McAndrew’s study and, clutching the antique pillbox in his hand, just in case, poked his head through the door.

  Inside, he saw a desk with a computer, two filing cabinets and a wall of glass-fronted cupboards. Through the glass he saw self-help books and several award statues. Someone liked McAndrew’s houses then.

  Also on the desk was an inbox full of invoices and blueprints, an old chocolate tin with a bristle of pens sticking out of the top, and a photo of Tara and her mother against a white-mountained backdrop. There was nothing to indicate an affiliation with The Evil.

  But there wouldn’t be, Jack told himself. It wasn’t like being in a religion, where people wore crosses or headdresses. Being an agent for The Evil didn’t come with a uniform.

  Footsteps sounded in the corridor behind him and Jack backed out of the study, heart hammering. To his relief, it was just Fi-Fi, tongue lolling and tail happily wagging. Jack abandoned his search of the study and went to the bathroom before he could be discovered by someone less happy to see him.

  The role of investigator was reversed over dinner.

  ‘Tara tells me you’re both interested in buildings,’ said Mr McAndrew, reviving the lie they’d offered at school the previous day. ‘I’m very pleased to hear it. We need young people with bright ideas to keep us moving with the times.’

  ‘Yes,’ Jaide replied hesitantly.

  ‘Some buildings,’ added Jack. ‘Uh, old ones mostly.’

  ‘There’s a lot of opportunity in old buildings,’ said McAndrew. ‘You get a great old property, of really solid make, and it’s easy to strip out the insides, keep the facade, split it up into a ton of apartments . . .’

  He carried on from there for so long that the twins forgot where he’d started. But that was better than when he started asking questions, with Zena adding her questions in as well. Both Tara’s parents wanted to know everything about the twins – where they had come from, why they had moved to Portland, what their parents did, and so on. Neither Jack nor Jaide had faced such a concentrated interrogation since discovering their Gifts and the Wardens, and they found it difficult to keep the lies straight.

  ‘Your house exploded ?’ Tara’s mum put her fork down and covered her mouth with her hand. ‘That must have been simply terrifying.’

  ‘Sort of,’ said Jack. ‘Luckily Dad was there to save us or –’

  He stopped as Jaide kicked him under the table.

  ‘But I thought your father was overseas?’ said Tara’s father with a frown.

  ‘He is now – that is, he was just back before he went again. I mean, he travels a lot.’

  ‘Looking for antiques?’

  ‘Yes. Really expensive ones.’

  ‘Well, I think you’re very brave,’ said Tara’s mum. ‘Both of you. And I want you to know that you’re welcome here any time. If there’s anything we can do to make this difficult time easier for you . . .’

  ‘If your parents are looking for a permanent home, for instance, or a decent gas contractor who understands the building code –’ said Tara’s dad, earning a kick under the table himself.

  ‘What?’ he said to his wife. ‘Everyone needs somewhere to live, don’t they?’

  ‘They’ve already got somewhere, dear. Don’t be pushy.’

  ‘It doesn’t hurt to ask. And they said they’re interested in buildings . . .’

  Tara put on a pained expression while her parents bickered good-naturedly. Jack and Jaide concentrated on eating, now that the attention had shifted from them. The food didn’t seem to be laced with anything magical, and it was much nicer than Grandma X’s had been recently. Jack had seconds even though he knew there was dessert.

  Tara’s parents drank a bottle of wine between them with dinner and by the end were performing duets of their favourite old rock songs, much to Tara’s horror.

  ‘Let’s get out of here before they start digging out their old Van Halen records,’ she said, putting her plate on the floor for Fi-Fi to lick up the scraps. ‘I bet you never have to put up with anything like this.’

  ‘No,’ said Jaide, thinking that now she could see what Tara’s parents saw in each other. Physically they were completely different, but they laughed at the same jokes and they liked being together. ‘No parent is perfect. Our dad’s jokes are awful, and Mum couldn’t bake a cake to save her life.’

  ‘Were you scared of your grandmother when you first came to Portland? She looks a bit strict.’

  ‘Oh yeah.’ Jack resisted the urge to tell Tara how they’d initially thought Grandma X was a witch.

  They played games – proper computer games, not old board games their father had owned thirty years ago – until bedtime, which came much later than the twins were used to now. Because it was a Saturday night, Tara’s mum declared they could stay up and watch a movie. Tara had an extensive collection so it took at least fifteen minutes to decide which one. By the time it had started, Jack was already feeling sleepy. Luckily it was a girly movie he wasn’t very interested in, so he dozed on a beanbag, feeling pleasantly full and contented.

  He woke from a dream of being smothered to find Fi-Fi sprawled across him, dribbling into his shirt. The credits were rolling over a pop song he didn’t like. Jaide was sound asleep on her end of the couch, snoring softly. He tried to sit up, but Fi-Fi was as heavy as a mountain and refused to wake up.

  ‘Help!’ he called out.

  Tara blinked out of a daze. ‘Oh, hey. Fi-Fi, wake up!’

  The dog snorted and jerked upright, releasing Jack.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said, rubbing feeling back into his legs, or trying to. ‘Are you OK? You were staring at the screen like the movie was still playing.’

  ‘I was, wasn’t I?’ Tara smiled and shook her head. ‘I was just thinking about those moths. It was weird how they attacked us, like they knew what they were doing. Why would they do that?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Jack, hoping his face didn’t betray the lie. ‘Animals are weird.’

  ‘Dogs certainly are,’ she said, giving Fi-Fi an affectionate pat.

  ‘Pins and needles!’ cried Jack, kicking his feet in the air. ‘Pins and needles!’

  Tara laughed. ‘You’re weird too, Jack Shield. And so’s your sister.’

  Jack bit down on the urge to say, You should talk. ‘Gee, thanks.’

  ‘I meant it as a compliment.’ She wasn’t smiling now. ‘I don’t keep friends for long because we’re always moving. Will you be my friends for as long as I’m here?’

  He nodded. No matter what her father might be up to, Tara seemed OK, and of course the pool, television and great food helped.

  They woke up Jaide and went to bed. The twins slept right through the night. There were no weird dreams, no unusual incidents and breakfast the next morning was perfectly delicious, with pancakes, yogurt and freshly squeezed orange juice. Tara’s dad instantly vanished into his office with a cup of coffee. Tara’s mum was in a hurry to get to the shop in order to open it by nine. She left the kids snacks, and strict instructions to remind Tara’s dad to get them to the train on time.

  ‘You know what he’s like,’ she said to Tara. ‘If we didn’t keep reminding him, he’d probably forget we’re here.’

  ‘It’s true,’ said Tara, as they waved Zena off in her zippy little car. ‘Dad once called me Fi-Fi by mistake.’
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  ‘Ouch,’ said Jaide, fighting a sense of frustration that had been building in her all morning. They only had an hour or two to go before they left, and so far they had nothing. Being forgetful and self-centred wasn’t a sign that someone was secretly working for The Evil. If she couldn’t find something, they would have to go home empty-handed. Despite all the circumstantial evidence – the van, the weathervane pointing to the building site, the weird discarded skin – there was nothing that directly pinned anything in Scarborough to the troubles in Portland.

  It wasn’t until they were actually at the railway station that they got something to make the trip worthwhile.

  Tara had convinced her dad to let Fi-Fi come with them to say goodbye. The dog took up half the back seat, forcing Jack and Jaide to squash together on the other side. Just as they arrived at the station, he jumped into the back, his giant feet scrunching posters and tearing up pamphlets, so the back of the van began to look like a confetti delivery had exploded.

  Tara’s father twisted round in his seat as he stopped the car, his face red and angry.

  ‘Tara! Get that dog out of here!’ he yelled. ‘Those pamphlets cost me a fortune!’

  Tara gulped, then leaped out of the car to open the van door. Fi-Fi jumped out, licked Tara on the face, then stopped, her huge head snapping round towards the station. She sniffed the air for a second and then was suddenly in motion, galloping off between the rows of parked cars.

  ‘Fi-Fi, come back!’ Tara took off after her wayward dog. Jack and Jaide clambered out and ran after her in turn, before she got herself flattened by cars filing into the car park, or even by the train, which was just pulling into the station.

  It took several minutes of shouting and calling, but eventually they had Fi-Fi by her collar. It took all three of them to keep her still. She strained and tugged, but couldn’t get away from them.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ said Tara. She was scratched and breathing heavily. ‘It’s the cats. They always get her riled up like this.’

  ‘Cats?’ said Jaide. ‘What cats?’

  ‘The train cats. Didn’t you see them when you arrived?’

  Jack looked around. There was a cat sitting on the car park fence, two on the verge, another on the platform and several peering out at him from under parked cars.

  ‘They live under the station,’ Tara went on. ‘Dozens of them. The railway’s always trying to get rid of them, but they keep coming back. Hey, what is it?’

  Jaide had reached across Fi-Fi’s quivering back to grip Jack’s arm.

  ‘Look!’ she said.

  Jack had seen it: a perfectly white fluffball of a cat with part of its tail missing. The same one that had attacked Kleo.

  ‘This is where they come from,’ Jack said.

  ‘Exactly. They must be riding the trains in and out of Portland.’ Jaide noticed more cats arriving as the train readied itself for departure. Ari had said there were rumours of a big fight that weekend. There, right in front of them, was the army assembling!

  ‘We have to do something,’ Jaide said.

  ‘Do what?’ said Tara. ‘They’re only cats.’

  ‘It’s just Jaide got attacked by stray cats once,’ said Jack, with a warning glance at his sister. ‘They make her nervous. But we’re fine here, right?’

  ‘Uh, yeah,’ said Jaide. She made a conscious effort to look normal. ‘Thanks for having us, Tara. We really enjoyed it.’

  Tara brightened. ‘I did too! Do you think you’ll come and stay again?’

  ‘Sure,’ Jaide said. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Great! Sorry about my dad being so grouchy just then.’

  ‘That’s OK. I hope you don’t get in too much trouble.’

  ‘Don’t worry. He doesn’t stay angry.’

  ‘Good,’ said Jaide. ‘Hey, there’s even more cats!’

  She pointed towards the station. There were more cats there, but Jaide just wanted to make Tara turn away. In that moment, she reached down and unclipped Fi-Fi’s collar. The collar fell off and Fi-Fi launched herself at the assembling cats once more, barking like a mad thing. The train cats scattered, hissing and spitting.

  ‘Fi-Fi!’ shouted Tara in dismay. She took two steps to run after the dog, but stopped suddenly as the train’s steam whistle screamed out its departure warning.

  ‘You go,’ Tara told the twins. ‘If you miss the train, you’ll never be allowed back! Go! Fi-Fi, come back!’

  ‘Thanks,’ Jaide yelled as the train’s whistle sounded again. Jack was already running on to the platform. ‘See you at school tomorrow!’

  Tara didn’t reply. She was too busy trying to retrieve Fi-Fi, who had chased the fluffy white cat and at least a dozen others underneath a parked minibus. Tara’s dad and several members of the public were trying to help, but the dog kept running round and round the minibus, dodging humans and lunging at any cat that dared show its head.

  Jaide hid a smile as she waved at Tara through the window of the carriage. Thanks to the cat-hunting Fi-Fi, not one feline had got on the train. That crisis, at least, had been averted.

  ‘You again,’ said the portly conductor, coming up to punch their tickets. ‘Looking more cheerful than before too. Does that mean your trip to Scarborough was a success?’

  ‘Not really,’ said Jack. Without really thinking, he added, ‘We thought we’d find something there, but we didn’t.’

  ‘If that’s the worst thing that ever happens to you, then you’ve reason to be cheerful.’

  The conductor moved on to the next person in the train, leaving Jack to ponder this echo of Custer’s advice. If he had felt cheerful, maybe he would have agreed. But The Evil excision was still roaming about Portland, and so was the monster – unless they were the same thing, which seemed unlikely, since the legends of the monster went back so far – and they had come no closer to finding anything that would tell them what was really going on.

  But much worse than that, he his Gift was still lost.

  CHAPTER FIFTEEN

  Dead End

  Ari was waiting for them by their bikes when the train arrived at Portland Station.

  ‘Where’s Kleo?’ asked Jaide.

  ‘It’s nice to see you too,’ Ari replied huffily. ‘Clearly you didn’t miss me at all.’

  ‘Seriously, Ari, where is she?’

  ‘Patrolling,’ he said. ‘The attack hasn’t come yet.’

  ‘We know, and we know why it won’t. We found out where the cats are coming from and stopped them coming today.’

  Ari looked from Jaide to Jack and back again. ‘What have you done?’

  ‘We helped,’ said Jaide.

  ‘I know we weren’t supposed to,’ said Jack, trying to buck his own spirits as much as Ari’s. ‘But I really think this time we have helped.’

  ‘This is not going to end well,’ said Ari grimly. ‘You’d better tell me on the way, troubletwisters. Your grandmother is waiting for you at home.’

  They saddled up and rode out, with Ari in Jaide’s basket again. It didn’t take them long to tell Ari about the train cats and the way the attack had been foiled. By the time they had reached the sawmill, the cat was completely up to speed.

  ‘From Scarborough, you say – by train? Are you sure?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jaide. ‘We saw that fluffy white cat there, the one who attacked Kleo.’

  ‘That’s Amadeus. He’s Kleo’s main rival.’

  ‘It was definitely him.’

  ‘The train won’t go back to Scarborough again today,’ said Ari. ‘This may work out. But let me tell Kleo, will you? There are ways to present this kind of news –’

  ‘Wait!’ interrupted Jack, coming to a sudden stop in the middle of the road. ‘That wasn’t here yesterday.’

  Jaide jammed on the brakes, almost throwing Ari from the basket.

  There, on the road in front of them, was a series of thick red-brown spatters.

  ‘Is that . . . blood?’ Jaide’s gorge rose at the very thought.
r />   ‘Looks like it,’ said Jack, following it with his eyes across the verge to the building site’s main gate. ‘I think we should have another quick look,’

  ‘No, no, no!’ wailed Ari. ‘Not again!’

  The cat jumped out of the basket and on to the road, in order to sniff the spatters. He pulled a sour face.

  ‘It’s not blood. It’s some kind of oil. And what else did you expect? This is a building site. It’s full of machines. You humans love your machines, but they never seem to work very well. They’re always breaking down – and that’s clearly what’s happened here. Why do you have to see The Evil everywhere? Can’t you accept that sometimes some things in Portland are perfectly ordinary?’

  The twins gaped at Ari. He had never spoken to them this way before.

  ‘Well,’ said Jaide, ‘if it really is oil . . .’

  ‘Do you accuse me of uttering a falsehood?’ Ari challenged, glaring at them with his fur standing on end.

  ‘I don’t know, but –’

  ‘I would never lie about something like this. I might bend the truth where missing meals are concerned or suchlike. But never about Warden matters!’

  ‘Maybe we’ve been jumping to conclusions,’ Jack said slowly. They had lost control of their Gifts, defied Grandma X, accused innocent people . . . and for what? To chase mythical monsters and fleeting shadows all across Portland and beyond, to no end at all.

  Troubletwister, know thyself.

  ‘All right,’ Jaide said. ‘Let’s just leave it . . . for now. If Grandma really is home, we can talk to her and see what she says.’

  ‘She’s there,’ Ari said. ‘I promise.’

  He hopped back up into the basket, muttering so softly under his breath that Jaide barely heard him say, ‘She’d better be!’

  Grandma X was home, bustling about in the Blue Room, lifting objects and looking under them, one after the other.

  ‘Welcome back, Jaidith and Jackaran. How was your trip to Scarborough? Did you find what you were looking for? No, I guess you didn’t – or else it would have found you too, and you wouldn’t be here now, looking at me that way.’