The Hunting Ground

by Cliff McNish

  A cry of pure delight shot from Cullayn’s lips that lit up the air like a firework display. Standing back at the tree-line he watched Mum, in awe at what he’d achieved. Dad, on the other hand, gazed down at the sword in an almost puzzled way, as if he couldn’t quite understand how it had got there.

  While Mum bent over Dad in horror, Eve ran. It was not from Cullayn she was running, but me. I’d arrived, but got too close. She still thought I was going to hurt her.

  ‘It’s OK!’ I shouted. ‘I won’t do anything to you! Eve!’

  ‘Go after her, Theo!’ Mum gasped, holding onto Dad. ‘Go on!’

  Eve was heading towards the house, and I went to cut her off, but that was a mistake. She saw me and ran in the opposite direction – towards the lake.

  There was no sign of Cullayn. Janey was high up the slope, holding her neck in pain. Mum had taken the sword out of Dad’s chest and was pressing her hands over the wound, trying to keep him alive.

  Eve reached the lake. Without even thinking about what she was doing, she ran straight onto the ice.

  No, I thought. Dad had spelled out to us how freezing cold the water is under the ice crust. In temperatures like this you’ve got a few minutes to get out at most, or you’re dead. Eve wasn’t thinking about that. She skidded on her flat shoes. Only her lightness prevented the ice from shattering.

  I frantically called her name. If she had trusted me in that moment I’d have been able to get her back to shore easily. ‘Eve, it’s OK,’ I said. ‘Please listen. I won’t hurt you. Just get off the ice!’

  She looked at me heart-brokenly. I could tell she wanted to believe me. I could see how scared she was of the ice breaking, and I realise now that she’d have taken anyone’s help in that moment except mine. ‘Eve!’ I called out. ‘Come here!’ From the shore I held out my hand to reassure her.

  Then both of us heard a noise near the house.

  It was Mum, crying. I knew it meant that Dad was dead. Janey reached Mum seconds later, and knelt beside her. Mum didn’t seem to notice Janey was there. She clutched Dad to her, sobbing. But a moment later she glanced up, spotted Eve, left Dad with Janey and rushed towards the lake, waving her arms.

  It was exactly what Eve needed. She trusted Mum, and she flung her own arms out wide, skidding towards her across the lake. I made sure I stayed well back. But as she got near the shore, Eve slowed down. I didn’t understand the reason until I saw the thin crack branching outwards along the ice from the front of her toes.

  ‘Eve, don’t move,’ a voice said. Not mine. Not Mum’s. It sounded a bit like Mum’s voice. But it was Cullayn, somewhere out of sight, whispering.

  And Eve did stay still. Just for a second. But that second was the only one she had left to get to shore before the ice splintered under her. I remember watching Eve gaze down at her own small feet. And then she screamed and lunged for the shore. For a moment I thought she might make it. But the ice sheet shattered, and she fell like a stone into the water.

  She bobbed up again seconds later, gasping with the cold, screaming ‘Mummy! Mummy!’ Terrified, hemmed in by ice, she splashed in a doggy-paddle style out into the middle of the lake instead of back to shore. From her gasps, I could tell how bitterly cold the water was.

  It didn’t matter how terrified Eve was of me now, I had to get to her. Taking my shoes off to reduce the weight, I stepped onto the ice. It cracked straight away. Swaying, backing off, I tried to think what to do.

  ‘Theo, go to the house!’ Mum yelled, running towards me. ‘Find something with a long handle!’

  I sprinted back to the house. Found a broom in the kitchen.

  By the time I got back to the lake there was no sign of Mum or Eve. Where were they?

  Then Mum surfaced between sheets of ice. ‘I can’t find her!’ she rasped, already half-frozen. ‘I can’t—’

  Eve suddenly appeared in the water nearby, her uptilted face coughing and spluttering. Mum immediately grasped her with her left arm, holding Eve’s face out of the water, and with her right began beating her way back to shore.

  They should have made it. Mum was already exhausted from the extreme cold, but she was a good swimmer and I’m sure she was still strong enough to make the bank. If she’d been on her own I think she’d have done it easily. But she was also trying to save Eve, and Eve was panicking. She kept flailing her arms, hitting Mum, and so Mum had a choice. Either to leave Eve, or take all her weight, battle her panic and try to get them both out.

  ‘Mum, grab the broom!’ I yelled. She reached for it, but she had only one hand free, the broom was soon wet and the one time Mum managed to catch it the handle slipped from her grasp.

  I kept edging nearer Mum with the broom, but the ice was splitting all around me and Mum was still too far out. She shouted for me to keep back.

  I don’t know how Mum managed the next thing. It must have been with the last of her strength that she lifted Eve to the surface of the water and flung her towards a wide patch of ice near me.

  Eve clung to the ice but still wouldn’t grab the broom handle until Janey arrived and held it out to her. From there she reached Janey’s outstretched arms. Soaking wet, shivering, Eve made small crying noises, but she was safe.

  That fact brought a brief smile of wonder to Mum’s frozen face. I kept telling her to swim, but her arms were too numb.

  ‘Keep going!’ I pleaded, seeing that she was barely moving now.

  ‘I can’t any more,’ she told me simply. ‘I can’t. I’m done.’

  And as she said that she gazed steadily at me, and at Eve, and it was as if she was drinking us in, trying to remember us in some way for whatever was to come. And then I saw a look on Mum’s face that I’ll never forget.

  ‘Oh God, Theo,’ she whispered. ‘I’m so sorry to leave you like this. We love you both. Always … always know that. Look after your sister.’ Then, gently, as if a wave had simply washed over her head, she dropped beneath the surface of the water and was gone.

  *

  That’s it. That’s all of it. Three hours later I’m sitting here, inside the house. I can’t believe I’m safe while Mum and Dad are dead. THEY ARE DEAD. The only reason I’m alive is that Janey somehow held onto me, preventing me from jumping in after Mum. I’ve got a vague memory after that of Janey rubbing the shivering Eve, wrapping her up in her own dress, warming her body up.

  But Eve wanted Dad. She pulled away from Janey and ran towards him. She lifted his neck up, trying to make him listen. She didn’t realise he was dead. Then, finally understanding, she just ran and ran towards the main doors of the house. That’s when Cullayn reappeared. Gliding like a skimming stone across the lake’s surface, he settled unseen behind Eve and followed her inside.

  I set off after them, but had to stop for Janey. She’d started choking. Her neck was in a terrible state where Cullayn had squeezed it. She could barely breathe by the time I got her home, it was so swollen. Her parents answered the door, and for once they did something good for her, getting into their car and taking Janey to hospital.

  Since then I’ve been looking for Eve. I know she’s hiding somewhere inside the house, scared of Cullayn but also scared of me. I don’t want her to be scared of me. I can’t believe I let Cullayn get to me like that. I can’t believe the way I hit Eve and held her in that headlock. If I find her, I’ll just guide her gently. I won’t go near her. I’ll just lead her to the village, where other people can help us. I’m going to stop writing now and look again for Eve. I have to find her.

  *

  It’s 9.35 p.m. I just called the police. I explained what had happened to Mum and Dad. I can tell the woman on the phone didn’t believe me, especially when I told her about Cullayn, but they’re sending someone.

  *

  9.42. A moment ago, I heard Eve’s voice. It was very distant but I’m sure it was coming from the East Wing. Maybe Cullayn dragged her in there. Or maybe Eve ran in there to hide from me. I don’t know. But I’m going in there to have a look.
Wish me luck. I don’t even know why I’m recording this. I don’t know who might read it. If you are a stranger, I just hope you’re not stuck in this terrible house. Whoever you are, I hope that you’re somewhere safe, a long way from here. I wish I could see your face. How old are you? I wish I knew what you look like. Whoever is reading this diary, I really wish you were with me right now. I wish someone was.

  Theo Stark

  22

  DON’T YOU TRUST ME?

  Elliott stopped reading. The diary ended there. A signature was the last thing Theo ever wrote. The ink of his name stood out on the page like a final bold statement.

  Numbly, Elliott clenched the last diary page in both hands, staring at the paper as if by sheer willpower he could reveal the fate of Theo and Eve. Why hadn’t Theo come back to record what happened next?

  Elliott had so much admiration for Theo in that moment. He couldn’t imagine the strength it must have taken for him to go into the East Wing, knowing Cullayn was there – to go after Eve simply because it was the right thing to do.

  My friend, Elliott thought, his mouth compressed with emotion. With all of his heart he wished he could go back fifty years in time. Either to stop Theo going inside the East Wing, or to be there at his side. Theo was dead. Elliott was absolutely sure of it, and he felt closer in that moment to Theo than he had to anyone else in his life except Ben and Dad. And thinking about them brought him back to the present.

  Standing up, Elliott unlocked the bathroom to confront Jane Amanda Roberts.

  She was outside the door. She had made her way up from the sunshine heat of the morning room. Wary and thin, tense and still, she observed him closely. Despite the last diary entry, Elliott still had no idea whether or not he could trust her.

  ‘So,’ she said briskly, ‘you have the facts now. Cullayn didn’t hang around to offer evidence to the police. The only verdict that made sense to them was that of a wife who inexplicably went insane, stabbed her husband and killed her own children. It looked like she’d drowned herself afterwards in the lake. I offered the police the true story, but you can imagine what they made of that. They drained the lake, expecting to find Eve and Theo’s bodies. Didn’t. Commenced an exhaustive search of the house. Still couldn’t find them. Embarrassing for the police. Not being able to find the bodies, I mean. But clearly the mother had disposed of them somewhere. A loose end, but the officers on the case lived with it.’

  Elliott gave her a belligerent stare. ‘Why didn’t the police find the bodies?’

  ‘Because Cullayn hid them first, of course.’

  ‘Where?’

  ‘His secret room inside the East Wing. It’s all in the diary. A compartment. Beautifully concealed. It’s where his heart is, you might say.’ She gave Elliott an astute look. ‘Don’t pretend you don’t know what I’m talking about.’

  Elliott thought of the smooth wall inside the dark passageway.

  ‘Yes,’ Janey said, reading his expression. ‘The descending floor. The steps. Such a little staircase, but so hard to walk down, eh? The police searched the East Wing for days, but they weren’t looking for a concealed room. Poor Eve and Theo were lying entombed in graceless silence long before the investigation was complete.’

  ‘How do you know that?’ Elliott demanded, keeping his distance.

  Janey looked impatient. ‘Because Eve told me. I met her weeks later. She was dead, of course, but not yet the tainted thing she is now. Cullayn hadn’t quite got his full clutches into her then.’ Janey picked at her fingernails. ‘You want to know what happened to Theo?’

  Elliott glared at Janey, wanting to shut her up, but needing the truth.

  ‘I don’t trust you,’ he said. ‘You’re working with Cullayn. In the diary Theo says Cullayn possessed you.’

  ‘That was briefly,’ Janey snapped. ‘I shook his influence off for good afterwards.’

  ‘Don’t give me that!’ Elliott shouted. ‘You opened up the East Wing! You think I didn’t see the screwdriver?’

  ‘I had no choice about that,’ Janey said. ‘I had to pretend I was co-operating with Cullayn.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘I can’t reveal that yet. You’re going to have to trust me.’

  Elliott stared fiercely at her. Did he trust her? No. But if he was going to have any chance of rescuing Dad and Ben, he knew he needed an ally. Janey was the only one available. Her dress was still adorned with the favourite flowers of the ghost children. That reminder of the old ghost-caring Janey made Elliott decide to keep an open mind.

  ‘You know from the diary that Theo responded to Eve’s shouts for help,’ Janey said. ‘I suspect that Eve was already ensconced in Cullayn’s secret room by then. Everything he did was leading her there. The room’s a trap, of course. The handle to open the door from inside ceased working in Cullayn’s time, even if Eve could have reached it. A nice irony that. Killing her the same way he was killed. That would definitely have appealed to Cullayn. No way out of the room, except via his powers, and he wanted her dead. Looking for Eve, Theo eventually made his way inside the secret room as well.’ Janey hesitated. ‘If it makes you feel any better, Eve told me that Theo cradled her head at the very end. Her last living memory was of him telling her stories of hope, and holding her.’

  Elliott tried to take that in. ‘So Theo was still alive when Eve died. He outlasted her.’

  ‘Yes. He died a day or so later. I sensed it. So did the ghost-children. I assume he departed the same way as his parents, went peacefully onward. It’s so hard for the ghosts to stay rooted to our world.’

  Elliott shook his head. ‘No. Theo would never have left Eve alone. Never.’

  Janey threw her head back and laughed. It was a bitter noise.

  ‘You give insufficient credit to the owner of Glebe House, Elliott. Theo had to depart, and quickly, or Cullayn would have snatched his spirit as surely as his sister’s. However, you’re right. There must have been some kind of battle at the moment of death. Theo was a special boy. Cullayn must have been waiting eagerly on his last breath to gather his spirit for himself. Somehow Theo eluded him. I’d like to have witnessed that. I might have learned something about shortcutting this long journey had I seen how Theo accomplished it. Even so, patience, your unwitting help and that of your brother and your father have brought us to where we are now.’ She offered Elliott a small bow.

  He gave her a hard look.

  ‘I see you still trust me even less than you like me,’ she said. ‘I always knew I’d have to do this alone. But trust me or not, do you believe that Cullayn has Ben and your father?’

  Elliott reluctantly nodded.

  ‘Then you are not a complete fool after all, and maybe that offers us an advantage.’

  ‘What advantage?’

  ‘Two of us to divide Cullayn’s attention.’

  Elliott assessed the sarcastic, scheming woman in front of him. Was this really the girl Theo had admired so much? Yet, thinking about it, hadn’t Janey possessed the very same traits in those days, only as part of a more rounded personality? Perhaps the only way she’d survived the bitterness of these past fifty years was to dig deep into scorn.

  ‘You’ve changed,’ he said.

  ‘Yes,’ Janey admitted, her look only briefly sad. ‘She’s irrecoverable, that silly, naive version of me. I stopped thinking of her about forty years ago. Anyhow, we can chat away if you wish, but, remember, every minute we stand debating here your father is that same minute closer to death. He’s lost a lot of blood already.’

  Elliott tensed, studying Janey. ‘What are you planning to do in there?’ he asked uneasily.

  ‘Stalk the hunter, claim his power, make him grovel for forgiveness and offer none, that sort of thing.’ Janey gave Elliott a disarmingly intense smile. ‘Cullayn wants only one thing.’

  ‘To hunt.’

  ‘Exactly. The everlasting hunt. The power to leave Glebe House and roam the world. And Ben’s going to help the owner achieve his goal. We haven’t got
long before Cullayn shoves him onto the hunting ground.’

  ‘What about Dad?’

  ‘Amusement value only, but to Cullayn that means a lot. Come on,’ Janey said tetchily. ‘We can’t wait here. We need to reach in by the backdoor while Cullayn’s still cooing over his new acquisitions.’

  ‘The backdoor?’

  ‘I haven’t got time to explain everything, Elliott.’ Without waiting for further questions, Janey turned around and began walking at a fair clip down the staircase. Elliott hesitated, then raced after her, catching up once she was outside the East Wing.

  ‘Look inside the darkness,’ Janey said curtly. ‘Face it.’

  Elliott hesitated. Inside the entrance a few chinks of daylight suffused the otherwise murky entrance corridor.

  ‘Afraid?’ she challenged him.

  ‘Yes,’ he admitted.

  ‘Good. Fear gives you an edge, but too much leaves you cringing and useless. I allowed you two journeys inside to get over that.’

  ‘What about you?’ Elliott challenged her back. ‘Your tricks didn’t work last time against Cullayn, did they?’

  ‘I know others now.’

  Elliott flinched as without warning Janey thrust her hand into the air of the East Wing’s open entrance. A dizzying sensation followed, the air seeming to stretch as if the focus of the universe had momentarily flexed. Then Janey curled one of her arthritic hands, and with the singular intent of a bird of prey dragged her open fingers brutally backward.

  Her blue eyes narrowed as something caught.

  Then she yanked hard, seeking a fuller hold with two more fingers.

  ‘The entrance is already open,’ Elliott pointed out.

  ‘My way inside, not his.’

  Janey tugged harder, gripping the air, determined. Moments later Elliott felt rather than heard something detach, and next he knew Janey had hold of his hand, and her entire outline was flaring with apricot-hued light as strand by strand she hauled her once-dark hair through the divide, and Elliott with it. Elliott screamed, every cord in his neck taut with pressure as Janey heaved her old body and his younger one into the East Wing.