It was at this point, as Jared faced her fully, that Bo saw the red claw marks on his cheek. She looked down at her short nails dubiously. It was too dark to see properly, but she thought there might be a few bits of skin tucked under them.
‘You’re saying I attacked you? Scratched your face?’ If that was true, then maybe – maybe – she could understand why he’d felt it was necessary to bundle her in the back of his camper.
Jared laughed. ‘It surprised me, too. I had you down as more of a knee-to-the-balls kind of girl.’
Bo gave him her sternest, most narrowed eyes. Finally, he stopped laughing.
‘So how did I go from scratching your eyes out to being hog-tied at the top of the Lychgate Mountains, then?’
‘Ah. Yes. Well, I had a thought, you see. I reckoned that if people were wandering in trances all over the country, then we’d have heard about it in the news by now. So it must be something localised to Blackfin.’
‘Well, obviously.’ Despite her confident tone, it had never occurred to Bo to question whether the phenomenon might be more widespread. Everything weird she had ever seen had been tied to her hometown.
‘So I put you in the back of the van and started driving out of Blackfin as fast as I could. I’m guessing you snapped out of it right around the time we passed the signpost at the edge of town.’
He was right about that. ‘But why weren’t you all trance-y? Didn’t you hear the voice?’ Bo shuddered at the memory of that eerie, sing-song voice. A voice that could manipulate you to do whatever its owner wanted.
‘I didn’t hear any voice,’ Jared said, frowning. ‘Do you mean like a disembodied one?’
‘Yeah. I suppose so. I couldn’t hear it with my iPod on, and I’m guessing that’s why I didn’t go into the trance like the others at first. I think whoever’s behind it all realised what I was doing, though, and made my iPod start blaring this awful noise so I’d pull my earbuds out. But that doesn’t explain why you didn’t hear it, and why you weren’t affected.’
Jared shrugged. ‘You said you’ve only seen kids out sleepwalking. Maybe I’m too old for the voice to affect me.’
‘That could be a factor, I suppose. But from what I’ve seen, I think the adults might go into some kind of super-deep sleep while the kids sleepwalk. That’s what happened to my neighbour when she was babysitting my brothers. Twice.’
‘Okaaay,’ Jared rolled his lip-piercing between his teeth. ‘So if only kids get called out of bed by the voice, and adults go into a deeper sleep, maybe I’m just somewhere in between?’
He was nineteen: on that cusp between being a teen and a fully-fledged adult. That could be it, Bo supposed. But something in Jared’s expression made her think there might be more to it.
‘There’s something else, isn’t there?’ she said. To his credit, Jared didn’t try to lie.
‘Yeah. I’m not really… Mind tricks don’t tend to work on me. Family trait, you could say – like how some people can’t roll their tongues.’
Bo thought of her own peculiar family trait, and how useless it had always proven to be. Well, except for extricating herself from the ropes Jared had tied her up with … she supposed that had been a little bit helpful. And, Bo grudgingly admitted, Mrs Peeps’ flexibility had helped her earn her senior position among the club’s dancers. But, generally speaking, being extremely bendy had little going for it.
‘You say that like mind tricks are an everyday thing for you,’ Bo said. Jared didn’t answer, or meet her eye. ‘Have you encountered something like this before, then?’
‘Not exactly like this, no.’ Jared shrugged, his shuttered expression telling Bo he didn’t want to talk about it. ‘If you’ve decided not to brain me with that tin, I’ll take you back home,’ he said.
Bo’s natural instinct was to get out and make her own way home. Well, first to push him for answers, then make her own way home. But she hesitated. It really was a very long walk back into town.
She chewed the inside of her cheek as she glanced at the clock built into the dashboard. It was ten past one. Would the voice have gone quiet by now?
If she slid back into that strange, hypnotised state, she decided it would be better if it happened inside Jared’s van rather than wandering alone in the Lychgate Mountains. Setting aside the whole tying-her-up-and-abducting-her thing, Jared didn’t appear to have nefarious intentions where Bo was concerned.
‘Yeah, a lift would be good, thanks,’ she said, finally. ‘But I’m hanging onto the beans.’
She wasn’t stupid, after all.
Bo took the seat next to him, watching silently as the signpost marking the town limits came into view at the side of the road. The van rumbled past it. Jared and Bo exchanged a glance, but she didn’t hear the voice again, and didn’t feel herself slipping from consciousness as she had done the other times. Whatever the voice was doing in Blackfin at night, it seemed to have passed.
The witching hour, Bo thought. She’d read about it in the library, though different texts gave different times for it. Some said it was as late as 3am. Well, if anyone’s looking for proof that the witching hour starts at midnight,they need only come to Blackfin and watch, Bo thought.
She smiled to herself, imagining Sky’s and Cam’s faces when she told them about what she’d seen happening in town late at night, and then getting kidnapped by Gui’s new employee and threatening him with a tin of beans. This was exactly the kind of random stuff Sky loved.
The smile slid from Bo’s face. She wouldn’t be telling Sky any of this, or at least not until she went back to the cemetery.
She rubbed her fist against her breastbone as though she might rub away the deep ache she felt there.
‘Could you drop me off at the cemetery?’ Bo said to Jared. ‘There’s something I need to do.’
An hour later, she crept through the back door of her house, her shoes clutched in one hand in case the sound of her footsteps woke her mother. But Bo needn’t have worried; as she slipped through the back door and up the stairs, the whole house was silent. It was only when she reached her room and took off her coat that Bo remembered the book she had stuffed inside it, and which she had sort of accidentally pilfered from Jared’s van.
Chapter Six
…rats everywhere, even in my … woke in a bath of icy … damn that girl! And damn that silent spectre of a brother! I see the evil in him just as plainly … parents made of it, if such demon spawn even have parents? I should have drowned them at birth were they my… Curse them, as they have cursed me to a life with only half my sight … swear it, if those evil twins come near my church again…
It felt as though Bo had only just drifted off to sleep when her mother knocked softly on her bedroom door. Bo blinked awake, the image of a wrinkled hand scratching words into a leather-bound volume lingering for a moment before her mum’s face appeared in a crack in the door.
‘Oh, Margaret! Are you seriously not awake yet? We have to leave in five minutes or we’ll miss visiting…’
The use of her real name let her know that her mother was in no mood to be trifled with.
‘I’m up, I’m up!’
Bo, who was blatantly not up, slithered out of bed and raked her hands back through her hair. Her black, Cleopatra-style bob fell neatly back into place, as always. She wasn’t entirely sure if that was another of the town’s quirks, or a simple case of genetics; just as Mai Peeps was a wonder of orthopaedic dexterity, she too was blessed with always slinky hair.
Got to take the rough with the smooth, I suppose, Bo thought. Then she corrected herself: The bendy with the smooth, anyway.
‘Wait, visiting? I didn’t know we were going to see Dad today.’
Bo’s father was currently serving an eight-month prison sentence for a little light theft – his latest stint of many behind bars – and Bo regularly managed to lose track of the visiting schedule.
Her mother sighed. ‘I reminded you about it two days ago! And it’s on the calendar in the kitche
n.’
Bo winced guiltily. She really ought to make the effort to visit her father more often; but then he really ought to make more of an effort to not do things that would get him thrown in prison in the first place. Or at least not get caught.
‘Well, you can come with me next time. It’ll actually make it a bit easier for me. I’ve dropped the twins off at Ernie and Phil’s; they’re having a sleepover there tonight. If you’re not coming to see your dad, I’ll go straight into work afterwards. It’s a late one tonight, so I won’t get home ’til three-ish. Will you be all right to feed yourself today?’
‘I’m sure I’ll manage.’
Bo aimed for a warm smile, sensing she was still on thin ice for forgetting about visiting her dad. But warm smiles weren’t exactly Bo’s thing, and her mother only sighed again before disappearing from the doorway.
Nevertheless, Bo was quietly pleased about not having to accompany her mother. She would much rather be left alone to try and figure out what was happening in Blackfin, and what it had to do with the author of the journal she’d stolen from Jared’s van.
Bo spent the better part of the day reading the journal. Among the fragments of a history she had never heard anyone in town refer to, she caught glimpses of Blackfin life: a sneering mention of Mrs Hemlock, then a teacher of chemistry rather than the formidable headteacher at Blackfin High; a reference to the two-headed fish commonly caught in Blackfin Lake, and which the diarist threw back in disgust at its ‘deviant nature’; an entry about the lightning trees which edged Blackfin Woods, and the inconvenience of having to wear rubber-soled shoes to pass them safely.
All in all, the journal showed the author, who seemed to be some kind of vicar, to be a bad-tempered sort of chap. Quite stuffy and old-fashioned, judging by his writing style. It gave no name for him, though. What the journal did confirm were the names of the black-haired girl and boy: Bruno and Edita.
Unusual names, Bo thought. She wrote them down in her notebook.
There were a few more tantalising hints at who the mysterious Edita might be. She was around sixteen years old by the author’s reckoning, and was indeed Bruno’s twin sister. The pair had some peculiar talents which seemed to have brought them to Blackfin. The girl’s voice, as Bo herself had experienced, could summon any child or animal to do her bidding, and put adults into a kind of mindless stupor. From the snatches Bo read, it seemed Edita rather enjoyed tormenting the journal’s author with her particular gift.
The exact nature of the boy’s talent was less clear, but something the writer speculated about. He wondered whether Bruno’s voice held a similar controlling quality to his sister’s, though the journal offered no examples of it being used as Edita’s was. In fact, Bruno was invariably described as being silent, as though reluctant or unable to speak.
Bits and pieces of the puzzle were coming together, but there were lots of answers Bo didn’t have. Not least of which was why Edita kept calling the children of Blackfin from their beds each night. But Bo would work her way through the puzzle piece by piece until she had all the answers, and could put a stop to the late night wandering.
And she would start by finding out who Edita and Bruno really were.
Ms Stacks looked up from the pile of returned books she was sorting and smiled when she saw Bo striding towards her.
‘Back to research this mysterious east door of yours?’ she said warmly. ‘Or something else?’
Bo frowned, balancing the worn journal at the edge of the librarian’s desk. ‘Both, I suppose. You see, I’ve found this old journal, and it might be connected to the east door thing I was asking you about. Or it might not. The journal mentions twins who visited Blackfin about sixteen years ago, but I don’t think they’re here now…’ Well, except for a disembodied and rather compelling voice. ‘…and I’ve never heard anyone mention them, so I was wondering if you have any records or old photos or anything like that where I might be able to find out more?’
The librarian made as though to take the book, but Bo found her fingers tightening around the leather cover to the point of becoming white-knuckled. Ms Stacks’ smile twitched, and she withdrew her hand.
‘Do you know the names of these twins? That would be a place for us to start our research.’
Bo nodded, relieved the librarian seemed on board to help her. ‘Only first names, but they’re quite unusual, so maybe there’s something… They were called Edita and Bruno. I mentioned him last time I was here.’
She waited for the librarian to write the names down or tap them into her computer, but Ms Stacks didn’t move. In fact, her smile appeared frozen in place, her eyes fixed on a spot slightly north of Bo’s eyebrows.
Bo rubbed at the spot. ‘Have I got something on my forehead?’
Ms Stacks blinked, and her features seemed to unfreeze. ‘Bo! How nice to see you. Is there something I can help you with? Or are you just here to browse the shelves?’
Bo squinted at her, an uneasy feeling beginning to gnaw at her stomach. ‘Uh … no. Just the twins thing I told you about.’
Ms Stacks’ smile widened. ‘Oh, lovely. That sounds like so much fun. Well, you let me know if you need anything, okay?’
With that, the librarian turned away from the counter and went back to sorting through the returned books.
‘Ms Stacks? I really need your help with this, actually,’ Bo said to the woman’s back, but if Ms Stacks heard her, she gave no sign. ‘Ms Stacks?’
She didn’t so much as glance up. Bo was used to the way some adults avoided talking about certain subjects in Blackfin, but not Ms Stacks. She’d always been able to rely on the librarian before. Bo studied the mechanical way the woman sorted through the books in front of her, the glazed appearance of her eyes.
Ms Stacks was acting weird. No, not acting, there was no way the kind librarian was behaving like this on purpose, ignoring Bo and just changing the subject. This was supreme weirdness. Trance-y weirdness. Blackfin weirdness.
Bo took a step back. And another. And then she walked out of the library, the old journal held tight against her chest like it might absorb the thundering beats of her heart.
She couldn’t ignore what was happening now, even if it was demanding an unreasonable amount of effort on her part to try to untangle it all. If it weren’t for her and her little brothers being among the kids affected by the night-time wandering bug, she would quite happily ignore this phenomenon as she did all the others. But not this time.
‘Oh, balls,’ she muttered.
She could go back home and read some more of the journal, she supposed; but she’d been there all morning, and had honestly had enough of its bad-tempered ranting for one day.
Perhaps she should go to Cam’s and see if her friend had any insights? Bo perked up as she always did at the prospect of hanging out with Cam. She glanced up the hill toward her friend’s house, looking for a light on in Cam’s bedroom window, but her eyes lingered instead on the police car sitting outside in the driveway. Cam and her brother had moved to Blackfin to live with their Aunt Holly while their parents went to work abroad. Holly Vega was Blackfin’s lone police officer, and the reason Bo hesitated now. It wasn’t that she disliked her, exactly, but it was difficult to bring herself to relax around the woman who had arrested her father no fewer than seven times to date.
No. Bo wouldn’t be dropping in to ask for Cam’s thoughts on the weirdness she’d witnessed. She’d just ask her at school.
Bo was about to turn and head back home when she caught sight of the small car-repair shop tucked away against the craggier ankle of the Lychgate Mountains. Her thoughts went straight to Sky, and how she would often head to her father’s garage after school instead of going straight home. Bo detested the phrase ‘daddy’s girl’, but she couldn’t deny that Sky and her dad had been close – much closer than Bo was to her own father. She had always envied them a little. Now Sky was gone, and Gui was … well, he was as you’d expect a man to be after losing his daughter.
Having no intention of actually giving the diary back to Jared, Bo hid it inside her messenger bag, and stomped up the hill with renewed purpose. But when she reached the garage, Jared wasn’t there. Seeing Bo’s shadow in the doorway, Gui himself lumbered out of the office.
‘Bo! What a surprise! Come in, come in … hot chocolate? Of course hot chocolate, what am I even saying?’
Bo allowed herself to be swept inside the cluttered office and took the steaming mug when he handed it to her a minute later. Gui was still waffling in his massive, deep voice, and kept at it while Bo blew on her drink, remembering how Sky would smile at her father at such moments, her blue eyes sparkling up at the enormous Frenchman. If Sky were here, Bo wouldn’t be chasing some disembodied voice on her own. She wouldn’t be feeling lost and confused and – though she would never admit it aloud – alone.
‘I miss Sky,’ Bo murmured. Gui paused, somehow hearing her over his own cacophony. ‘Nothing feels right without her here.’
Gui’s smile dimmed, and he sank a little lower in his seat.
Three Strikes Page 15
