Storm Hound

by Claire Fayers

  He’d said ‘Professors’! These must be the people Jessie had talked about yesterday with the Not-Boy.

  Jessie nudged Storm behind her. ‘Stay,’ she murmured. She couldn’t hope to protect him with her puny human body, but she was trying anyway. Storm felt pride surge through him and a snarl rose in his chest. His hair prickled.

  Careful, young one, the Great Dane growled. Don’t start a fight you can’t win.

  ‘That’s a very large dog,’ Professor Ryston said, his gaze snapping to the Great Dane. ‘When did you acquire him?’

  ‘I am in the middle of teaching a class,’ said Fuzzy-Lady, putting her hands on her hips. ‘If you could kindly . . .’

  Professor Utterby tossed something that looked like soot into the air. ‘Sit,’ he said. ‘The rest of you, stay.’

  Fuzzy-Lady paused, her mouth opening, then she sat down on the floor and crossed her legs. The other humans all stood as if they’d been frozen – even Jessie.

  Storm’s ears flattened. This was the worst kind of magic, smelling of ancient graves and desolate mountainsides. He tugged at Jessie’s leash, but she didn’t move.

  The three professors moved forward. Storm felt a creeping compulsion to howl, to spill his shadow across the hall and send these three intruders running for their lives. He tensed, feeling all his hair stand on end as the professors walked towards the Great Dane.

  Begone, and take your magic with you! Storm snarled. Too late he remembered the cat’s warning about keeping his magic hidden. It was too late now, anyway; his shadow was halfway across the floor

  Professor Utterby paused mid-stride and started to turn. But then the sharp, bright smell of lightning cut through the cold hall.

  ‘Storm, stay,’ Jessie said.

  Storm looked up at her in surprise. She’d been frozen a moment ago. How had she broken free?

  The scent of dark magic fled, leaving a clear patch where Storm could breathe freely. His shadow settled back down, puppy-sized again.

  Jessie had magic! Only a little, and clearly unused and untrained. She didn’t seem to realize it herself. The professors weren’t looking at him now – they were all staring at Jessie.

  ‘You were in chemistry yesterday,’ Professor Utterby said. ‘How long have you had this dog?’

  Jessie drew in an unsteady breath. ‘A few months. We got him back home, in London.’

  She’d lied. Well done, Jessie. Storm felt Jessie trembling. He crouched, ready to leap at the man. His shadow pulsed like lightning about to break forth from a cloud. He was a stormhound, not a terrified pup, and Jessie was only a child. It was up to him to protect her.

  Professor Utterby’s gaze shot back to him as the door opened again and the Not-Boy walked in.

  Like a thread snapping, the spell that held the humans broke. The Great Dane growled. His voice was echoed by the Labrador. Some of the other dogs took the chance to snap up crunchy treats from the floor, chewing loudly.

  Fuzzy-Lady scrambled up, her scent a mixture of confusion and fear, as if some part of her tiny human mind was aware of what had just happened. ‘You need to leave,’ she said. ‘You can’t come in here and disrupt the class.’

  Professor Utterby looked as if he were about to argue, but then he nodded curtly. ‘I believe the rain is easing. We’ll be on our way. I will see you in class tomorrow, Miss Price. Please forget we were ever here.’ He stalked out, followed by Ryston and Nuffield.

  The Not-Boy jigged from foot to foot. ‘See you tomorrow,’ he said to Jessie, and ran out.

  Did you see that? Storm barked happily. We ran them all off without even trying. They won’t come again in a hurry. Can I have another of those crunchy things?

  Jessie shook her head, her scent a mix of lightning and worry. ‘Heel, Storm,’ she said, and while Storm was still wondering what that was supposed to mean, she ran after the Not-Boy.

  He couldn’t have gone far, but the street was empty – except for the flash of a rabbit or hare, tearing behind a hedge.

  CHAPTER 20

  David bounded away, his ears and tail twitching, the sudden rush of all his senses coming into focus, making him momentarily dizzy. He heard Jessie shouting his name, but he didn’t stop. He shouldn’t have dragged her into this in the first place. And now the professors had noticed her.

  He kept running, his hare legs carrying him quickly until he reached the park by the bus station and the narrow river. An orange-and-black motorbike stood, leaning against a tree. David glanced around to make sure he was alone, then drew in a shuddering breath and turned back into a boy.

  ‘Auntie Ceridwen?’

  She stepped out from behind the tree. The look in her eyes made David want to tuck his tail into his legs and bolt for the mountains. But he didn’t have a tail at the moment, or the option of bolting anyway. He curled his fingers into his palms to stop his hands from shaking.

  Ceridwen growled at the back of her throat. ‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’

  David picked at a thread on his trousers. ‘I was following the professors. Like you told me to, remember?’

  ‘Don’t cheek me. I told you to keep an eye on things from a distance and make sure they didn’t see you. Your friend was shouting after you, you know.’

  ‘I heard her.’ David shoved his hands into his pockets angrily. ‘What’s wrong with making a friend? Just because you like being on your own all the time, it doesn’t mean I have to do the same.’

  ‘How much does she know?’ Ceridwen asked.

  Of course, that was all his aunt really cared about: making sure their various secrets were kept. ‘Nothing,’ David said. Ceridwen stared at him disbelievingly and he felt colour rise to his cheeks. ‘I already told you. She’s guessed there’s something up with the professors, but she has no idea what’s going on. She thinks the profs are bank robbers or something.’

  He hated lying to his aunt, but she had ways of meddling with people’s memories if she thought they knew too much. He attempted a smile. ‘She wouldn’t believe me even if I told her – which I’m not going to do.’

  That was true enough. No one would ever believe him. Magic existed. His aunt policed it out of family duty. David wasn’t really a boy, but a hare who could change shape, and the professors were searching for some sort of magical artefact, probably powerful and dangerous.

  His aunt started to walk, assuming he’d follow. He should take off in the other direction: that’d teach her.

  ‘This is because you still haven’t found out what the professors are looking for, isn’t it?’ he said, following her. ‘It’s not my fault, so don’t take it out on me.’ His aunt turned her head to glare at him and he hunched his shoulders. ‘Sorry.’

  Ceridwen slowed and sighed. ‘Morfran, I know this isn’t always easy, but I’m not making up these rules to annoy you. I’m trying to protect you. Magic and mortals are like oil and water. They don’t mix.’

  David took his hands out of his pockets and ran one through his hair, feeling the notch in his ear. ‘They could, though, couldn’t they? I’m a mix.’

  ‘And what would your human friend say if she knew?’ Ceridwen asked. ‘Just because you can walk on two legs, it doesn’t make you one of them.’ She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t underestimate yourself, Morfran. When I rescued you, I did it because I felt sorry for you – an injured baby, clinging to life. I didn’t think you’d even survive, but you surprised me. You proved to be far stronger than you looked.’

  ‘And you taught me magic,’ David said. She could have kept him as a pet, but instead she’d taught him to draw power from the earth, just like the ancient enchanters had done. She’d given him consciousness and the ability to change shape, so now he was more boy than hare.

  The first stars were appearing over the mountains. David dropped his gaze from them. He should be grateful – and he was. It was just that sometimes he wished he could be David the boy instead of Morfran the . . . whatever he was.

  ‘I made an
exception for you because I could see you were special,’ Ceridwen said, as if reading his mind. ‘But magic must be contained. It should never have entered this world in the first place.’

  ‘That wasn’t your fault,’ David said.

  Ceridwen sighed. ‘I know. But I must bear the responsibility for it. There are always people like the professors trying to pull magic out of its proper place. If I leave them to it, before we know it they’ll be summoning monsters from the Otherworld and no one will be safe.’

  Monsters from the Otherworld.

  David stopped still. His aunt’s words bounced in his head, colliding with all his jumbled thoughts: the professors searching the mountains, Professor Nuffield talking about the Wild Hunt. And, just now, he’d been afraid the professors had followed Jessie into the dog class, but they hadn’t been looking for her at all.

  ‘Dogs,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper. If Odin was around today, you might see a giant dog prowling in the mountains, Professor Nuffield had said. David closed his fingers into his palms, his nails digging in. ‘They’re not hunting for a magical artefact, they’re looking for a dog – one of Odin’s dogs, a hound of the Wild Hunt.’

  He risked a glance at his aunt, trying to read her expression. He hoped she’d be pleased he’d worked it out. But as realization slowly crossed her face – the realization that he was right – she turned white.

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘Stormhounds are terrible creatures. Monsters who live only for the pleasure of hunting and destroying. If there was a stormhound here, it would kill everything in its path – animals, birds, people.’

  David’s heart thumped. The shadows along the river looked suddenly threatening, as if each one might contain a stormhound getting ready to pounce.

  ‘Why would the professors want a stormhound?’ he asked. ‘I mean, if they’re that dangerous?’

  ‘Because they are created from magic. Their blood, bones, hair – every part of them – can be used in magic spells. Even the tears of a stormhound – if such a creature could ever cry – are said to heal all injuries. Just think of what the professors could do with that sort of power.’

  David thought, and his mind led him in all sorts of unpleasant directions. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. ‘Friday the seventh on Mount Skirrid. That’s what was written on the map in the professors’ staffroom. Is that where the stormhound will be?’

  ‘Or where they’re planning to kill it.’ Ceridwen put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes like stone. ‘I’m here, remember, and it’s my job to protect you from this sort of thing. Tonight, I’ll renew our defence charms and I’ll cast a confusion spell over the town. That should distract the professors for a little while. We must use that time to find the stormhound and dispose of it. Before the professors find it, before it can do any harm.’

  David knew his aunt didn’t like casting that much magic. This must be really serious.

  ‘You’ll need to end your friendship with the mortal girl too,’ Ceridwen said.

  David’s heart dropped. ‘Jessie’s not my . . .’ He started to protest, but even as he spoke, the words felt wrong. He looked down at his feet. ‘I like her – she’s different.’ She was too. She’d seen through Ceridwen’s disguise spells and she seemed immune to the professors’ magic. An image rose into his mind: Jessie facing down his aunt, her dog growling like a storm cloud at her feet.

  He pushed the image aside. If Jessie had any magic, she didn’t know about it, and it was better to keep it that way. He knew what Ceridwen did to people if she thought they were misusing magic. ‘You keep telling me I should behave like a human,’ he muttered, ‘and humans have friends.’

  ‘And you’re going to get your friend killed if you drag her into this,’ Ceridwen said harshly. ‘Have you considered that?’

  No, of course he hadn’t. David squashed the ugly swell of guilt inside him. ‘I didn’t drag Jessie into anything. She kept asking questions. Was I supposed to ignore her?’

  His aunt sighed. ‘Maybe it was a mistake to send you into that school on your own. I thought you could handle it. I keep forgetting how young you are.’

  Now he felt doubly guilty – for putting Jessie in danger and for letting his aunt down. David kicked at the grass. ‘All right. Let me have one more day in school and I’ll tell Jessie I can’t be friends with her.’

  ‘You, wanting to go to school? You’ll be wanting to do homework and sit exams next.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Come on. I’ll race you home.’

  The air shimmered and the two people vanished. Seconds later, two white hares, one smaller and with a notched ear, bounded along the street in the direction of the river.

  CHAPTER 21

  What was the point of being a stormhound if you were stuck in a house all day? Storm should be out and about, prowling the streets and looking for dark magic, not shut indoors while the humans went about their mysterious work and school tasks. Jessie ought to study faster so she could come home early and get on with more important tasks – such as attending to a bored stormhound.

  He was hungry too. He’d refused breakfast this morning in an attempt to show Jessie something was wrong with the world. It had worked, but not in the way he’d expected. Jessie’s Dad had threatened the vet again, and he’d thrown the uneaten meaty chunks into a metal bin which was full of so much unappetizing rubbish that Storm had left them alone. He was getting soft: he’d eaten far worse than that in Odin’s halls.

  Come to think of it, Odin’s hunters didn’t pay their dogs half the attention Storm got from Jessie, Ben and their Dad, or care when the hounds were sick. Storm would have to have a word with Odin about that when he got back.

  Sighing, he stood up and padded to the kitchen – Jessie’s Dad had given up locking him in the back room, saying Storm was scratching the door to pieces, which was an exaggeration, but not completely untrue, though it was entirely the fault of the humans for putting a door in the way of where he wanted to go.

  Next-door’s cat was sitting right outside the back door. Storm pawed at the glass. Hey, cat, how do you open this?

  The cat flicked her paw over her ears. You don’t. There’ll be a key somewhere, most likely, but if I were you I’d stay where you are today. It’s not safe out.

  Storm’s hair prickled. The cat was outside. Did she think she was braver and stronger than he was? Insolent animal, he growled. I do not fear humans, even those who use magic.

  I thought you wouldn’t. The cat began cleaning her tabby fur. But you should be afraid. You’re going to get yourself into trouble, charging off after them. You keep forgetting you’re only a puppy here.

  As if he could forget that. He remembered how he’d been ready to leap at the three professors last night, to teach them the folly of messing with Otherworld magic, his shadow pulsing while his puppy body had trembled pathetically. And the dark magician had looked at him and dismissed him. He’d thought his smallness was his greatest weakness in this world. What if it was the only thing that was preventing the hunters from finding him?

  What about the Not-Boy? he asked, less certainly. Jessie seemed to like him, and he hadn’t done anything to hurt her yet, unlike the Mum-Person.

  The cat wiped a paw across her ear. Let him walk about on two legs if it makes him happy. I don’t think he’s a threat.

  That’s not good enough. This place is filling up with magic. We must do something. Storm jumped up at the back door, trying to grab the handle with his teeth. All he managed to do was slide down the glass and land in a heap.

  After he’d done it the third time, the cat stopped washing. Tell you what. I’ll go and spy out the neighbourhood. You wait here and I’ll bring you word of what’s happening.

  Storm picked himself up and shook himself. Why would you do that?

  Because I’m curious too. And I’m getting tired of you complaining that you don’t know anything. Do you want me to go or not?

  Storm considered. This won’t mean we’re partners, or friends o
r anything, will it?

  Of course not. What do you take me for? I am a cat; you are a creature of the Otherworld. And, even if you weren’t, you’d still be a dog. The cat hissed to show what she thought of dogs.

  Storm wagged his tail at her. Well, then, I suppose it can’t hurt. I give you leave to depart.

  I resent that, the cat said, and walked away, flicking her tail. Storm watched her go, sighed and went upstairs to find some towels to chew.

  The cat didn’t appear again all morning. Jessie came home as usual in the middle of the day, and because Storm didn’t want her to worry unduly (never mind that he was hungry, and the meaty chunks smelled delicious), he wolfed down a whole bowl of food and pawed at her leg until she gave him more. Jessie hugged him.

  ‘Good boy, Storm. Well done.’

  It’s not exactly a heroic achievement to eat when you’re hungry, you know. Storm gave her a quick lick anyway, and escorted her to the front door when it was time for her to go back to school. Then he sat and waited.

  Finally, as the sun dipped behind the mountains, Storm saw tabby fur slinking over the fence between the houses. He raced to the back door, thought better of it, and sat under the kitchen table, pretending he hadn’t noticed her.

  Dog! Nutmeg yowled. Beware!

  Storm leaped to his feet, barking. Beware of what?

  Magic. Dark magic. She dashed away over the fence to her own garden.

  Where is Jessie? Storm barked after her. If anything had happened to her, he didn’t care if he was the size of a puppy – he’d tear those professors apart.

  CHAPTER 22

  ‘Storm!’ Jessie called, opening the front door. She was glad to be home. The professors hadn’t shown up at school today, and David had arrived late, looking red-eyed with tiredness. He’d refused to say a word about what had happened last night at the obedience class, and when she’d invited him back for tea again she thought he was going to say ‘no’, but he’d suddenly changed his mind. And now he loitered behind her on the pavement, looking like he was about to change his mind again.