Jessie’s Dad groaned. ‘All right. Just for a minute. I don’t want you getting all wet.’
He went to the door and turned the key in the lock. At last! Storm jumped impatiently.
But, before Jessie’s Dad could open the door, a shrill ring came from the front door and he groaned even louder.
‘She’s early,’ he said. ‘Stay here, Storm.’
Stay? When someone was at their front door. It wouldn’t be Jessie or Ben, because they’d let themselves in. Was it the Not-Boy, then? Or, worse, the professors?
Storm followed Jessie’s Dad into the hall, tensed and ready to fight any intruders.
But it wasn’t the Not-Boy or the professors. A lady stood on the doorstep, damp from the rain, her clothes smelling of car fumes.
‘Hello, Stephen,’ she said.
Storm froze where he was. He recognized that voice – he’d heard it come out of the telephone many times. It was the Mum-Person! He flattened himself to the floor, his tail thumping a warning. She was the one who’d made Jessie cry.
She’s trouble. Don’t let her in.
Jessie’s Dad ignored him, and now the Mum-Person was stepping inside the house, putting down a bag and an umbrella. ‘I’m sorry to spring this on you,’ she said.
‘It’s fine.’ Jessie’s Dad didn’t sound like it was fine. He straightened a picture on the wall, then started picking up stray shoes. What did he want shoes for? Was he going out? No . . . Now he was putting the shoes in a tidy line. ‘Jessie and Ben aren’t back yet,’ he said. ‘Did you want a cup of tea or something?’
He was being terribly polite. This was why he’d wanted to clean up: because he knew the Mum-Person was coming. For some reason it was important for her to think their house was tidy.
‘Did you tell them I was coming?’ the Mum-Person asked. ‘It’s just that Jessie sounded so upset on the phone yesterday I couldn’t stop worrying.’
And whose fault was that? Storm growled.
Jessie’s Dad picked him up. ‘I thought you could surprise them,’ he said.
He didn’t mean that. His scent always sharpened when he was lying. Storm didn’t know why he’d lie, or why he wanted Jessie and Ben to be surprised.
‘Actually,’ Jessie’s Dad said, ‘I didn’t want them being disappointed if you couldn’t make it after all. They’re both coming home for lunch today. Go into the front room – it’s tidiest there. I’ll just let Storm into the garden for a bit.’
He seemed to relax a little after that speech, as if the words had got bundled up inside him like a hairball, and he’d had to get them out.
‘Thank you.’ The Mum-Person dabbed at her eyes. ‘I’m afraid I might be starting to react already.’
Storm squirmed in Jessie’s Dad’s arms. He didn’t want to go out any more. He had to stay here to defend Jessie when she came home.
I am Storm of Odin and I will not be manhandled.
But apparently he would be. Jessie’s Dad tucked him firmly under one arm and took him to the back door. ‘There you go,’ he said. ‘You run around for a while, there’s a good dog.’
The door closed, shutting him off from the Mum-Person. Storm scratched the door. I’ve changed my mind. Let me back in. I’m sorry I messed up your kitchen, but you wouldn’t listen.
It was no use: the door remained shut. Storm lay against it with a sigh.
A few minutes later, a flash of tabby tore across the garden.
Storm leaped to his feet, his tail wagging. Cat! You’re back. Not that I care, he added quickly, remembering himself. What happened?
The cat shuddered, her hair standing on end. Dark magic. Magic that even a cat could not fight. Beware, stormhound, the hunters know what you are. They are coming for you.
The Valkyrie-Lady from next door must have been watching because she came running outside. ‘Nutmeg, where have you been?’ She scooped the cat up. ‘Naughty dog. Leave my cat alone.’
I wasn’t touching your cat.
The Valkyrie-Lady threw a slipper at him, then turned and stamped back indoors, taking the cat with her. Storm nosed at the slipper. How many of these things did she have? Did she keep spare ones just for throwing? He sighed, then sneezed. At least he knew the cat was safe, but that meant he had a promise to keep.
The rain grew heavier. Storm padded to the tree and sat down under the shelter of its branches. He considered chewing up the Valkyrie-Lady’s slipper, but he couldn’t be bothered. What was the point of destroying one slipper if Odin laid waste to the whole town?
The space inside him felt as vast as the sky, and the call of the Hunt echoed through it. He stood up. He was a stormhound, not a puppy. It was time he acted like one.
He walked to the fence and examined the ground. The earth was loose near the corner – it must have been where the hare had got in. Storm dug at it, scrabbling until he’d made a space the size of a puppy. Then he started to heave himself through. He’d grown in the past couple of weeks. He had to drag himself, panting hard. His collar caught on a jutting edge of wood and started to tear. But eventually it was done. He stood on the other side, panting and shaking mud from his coat, his collar hanging half off.
He hadn’t said goodbye, but maybe it was for the best. Goodbyes made humans sad and he didn’t want his last memory of Jessie to be a sad one. He started off down the road. If he could make it back to the mountains, he could find somewhere to hide. And then, if – no, when – the Hunt returned, he would . . .
He didn’t even notice the tall woman, not until she stopped, shot out her hand and grabbed him by the scruff of his neck.
‘I recognize you,’ she said. ‘Stormhound.’
CHAPTER 32
Storm shrank back on the pavement. The Not-Boy’s aunt crouched in front of him, one hand pressing down on the back of his neck so he couldn’t move. She smelled of fire and ancient woods. Old magic. Storm flattened himself to the ground, suddenly feeling how small he was in this body, how easy it would be for the woman to pick him up and walk off with him.
Ceridwen drew back a fraction, her scent becoming less ancient magic and more growing confusion. Rain fell around them in a steady rhythm.
‘You’re not exactly what I expected,’ Ceridwen said.
Storm snapped at her, trying to twist out of her grip, cursing his silly puppy body that was too small, too weak to do anything.
‘I can understand why Morfran tried to hide you, you looking like this,’ Ceridwen said. ‘Are you really a puppy? If this is a disguise, it is certainly convincing.’ She lifted him up in one hand. ‘I’m afraid you’ll have to come with me.’
She didn’t sound afraid. She sounded . . . sorry.
And then another voice. ‘Stop!’
The Not-Boy. He came racing along the road, out of breath, his clothes flapping wetly.
‘Auntie Ceridwen, wait!’
Ceridwen’s fingernails dug into Storm’s neck. He wriggled harder. Unhand me. Ouch!
Ceridwen ignored him. ‘Did you think I wouldn’t notice, Morfran? You come home late, you make friends with humans. And then I found your clumsy protection spells. I knew you were hiding something.’
The Not-Boy really had been trying to protect him.
Odin will reward you for this, Storm promised.
A car swished by on the road. Ceridwen shifted her grip on Storm, tucking him under one arm and keeping the grip on his neck with her other hand. ‘I told you stormhounds are dangerous. You never listen, do you?’
‘You’re the one who doesn’t listen!’ The Not-Boy shouted. ‘I was taking him back to the Hunt. He’s only a puppy.’
Ceridwen held Storm up to look at him, as if checking how big he was.
He wagged his tail uncertainly. See? Puppy. You can let me go, and I’ll be on my way. I’ll ask Odin to strike you with thundery vengeance another day.
Ceridwen half smiled. ‘I can understand you, you know, little stormhound.’
She wasn’t sure what to do now. She didn’t know what t
o make of him. Storm wriggled.
But then her grip tightened on him again. ‘Puppy or not, we can’t have him running free in this world.’
‘Why not?’ the Not-Boy’s face turned red. ‘You keep saying that the worlds shouldn’t mix, but you use magic all the time.’
‘That’s different.’
‘How is it? You taught me how to use magic too. You taught me how to change shape, and now you want me to pretend I’m a boy. I’m not! If Storm shouldn’t be here, then neither should I. Are you going to kill me too?’
Storm already knew the sorceress meant to harm him, so finding out she meant to kill him wasn’t a surprise. It was surprising, however, how angry the Not-Boy sounded about it. He wriggled and managed to twist his body round a little until Ceridwen’s fingers were across his nose. She let out a hiss of breath.
‘Don’t be ridiculous, Morfran.’
‘I prefer the name David,’ the Not-Boy said tightly. ‘And I won’t let you hurt Storm. He’s harmless.’
Harmless? Speak for yourself, Not-Boy.
Storm growled, then he opened his mouth as wide as he could and sank his teeth into Ceridwen’s hand. They were only puppy teeth, but they had the force of a desperate stormhound behind them. Ceridwen yelled, her grip loosening on him. Storm kicked her hard. His collar ripped away completely and the next moment he was falling.
He hit the pavement and ran.
‘Storm!’ the Not-Boy shouted.
Storm ran faster. A low roll of thunder shook the clouds overhead. His paws kicked up water as he raced through puddles. It was almost like being back in the Hunt, except he was on his own, and he was the prey this time, not one of the hunters.
He came to a road and dodged between cars. Horns sounded on either side of him. Glancing back, he saw the Not-Boy and his aunt, still holding the broken collar.
A silver car slowed.
Out of the way, Storm barked at it.
The back door opened and, too late, Storm saw the two eager faces inside. He tried to stop, to change direction, but he found himself lifted up and dragged backwards.
‘Got him!’ Professor Nuffield exclaimed.
CHAPTER 33
Jessie arrived back at the house, soaked and out of breath. ‘Dad, Ben, I’m home. Where’s Storm?’
She stopped, staring at the umbrella and the bag in the hall. Mum’s umbrella. Mum’s bag. Her heart leaped. It couldn’t be – Mum was in London. This must be another trick of the professors.
But Ben shouted from the front room, ‘Jessie, Mum’s here!’ And then, impossibly, Mum appeared in the doorway, her face breaking into a smile, her arms out.
‘Hello, Lightning Bug,’ she said. ‘I’ve missed you.’
Jessie couldn’t move, but it didn’t matter because Mum was across the hall in two steps.
‘Your hair’s all wet,’ she said. She pushed a strand of it off Jessie’s face, then wrapped her arms round her.
‘It’s raining,’ Jessie said, her voice muffled against Mum’s shoulder. In that moment, Jessie didn’t care about the professors, or David, or anything else at all. Mum was here, which meant that everything would be all right.
‘It’s just that you sounded so upset on the phone last night,’ Mum said, drawing back. ‘So I took the day off work and drove straight here. You don’t mind, do you?’
Jessie wiped her eyes. ‘Of course I don’t mind. How long are you staying? The weekend?’
‘If you’ll let me. We can go shopping. And I’ve brought photos of the new flat. I thought you and Ben could choose the colours for your bedroom.’
‘Red,’ Ben said. ‘I want it to be red – even the ceiling.’
‘You can’t have a red ceiling.’ Jessie laughed.
‘We can if we want. It’s our room.’
Jessie’s laughter caught in her throat. It wasn’t ‘their’ room, though, was it? David had said that travelling between places meant you never belonged anywhere. But he was wrong – he had to be. They couldn’t go through their lives not belonging.
Mum sneezed. ‘Sorry – dog hair. I’ll have to get used to that.’
‘Storm’s in the garden,’ Dad said. ‘He wanted to go out.’
Jessie stiffened, a sudden image of Professor Utterby flashing through her mind. She pushed past her mum and ran to the kitchen.
‘We can paint the ceiling blue,’ Ben shouted after her. ‘Then we can lie in bed and pretend we’re looking at the sky. And you can draw a picture of a castle for the wall.’
Ignoring him, Jessie flung open the back door. ‘Storm! Come in – now.’
But the garden was empty.
No sign of Storm, not under the tree or in the flower bed. A single blue slipper lay on the grass. Jessie threw it back into next-door’s garden and leaned over the fence to see if Storm had somehow got through. He wasn’t there. She already knew he wouldn’t be. A tight panic gripped her. Professor Utterby had said they wanted Storm, and now he was gone. They’d taken him, and she hadn’t even noticed.
‘I only let him out a few minutes ago,’ Dad said. ‘He must be here.’ He bent down to look under the bushes in the flower bed.
Jessie stood shivering as Mum and Ben came outside too.
‘It’s the pet-nappers,’ she said. Mum and Dad would never believe her if she told them the truth. ‘They’ve been taking people’s dogs and now they’ve got Storm.’
Dad hugged her. ‘This is my fault. I shouldn’t have let him out on his own. I thought he’d be all right in the garden. Don’t worry – we’ll find him. He can’t have gone far.’
If the professors had taken Storm, he could be anywhere.
Jessie ran back to the house, grabbing her coat from the hall and squashing it on over her wet clothes. ‘I’ll go back towards school. You go and look around the castle – that’s where we take him for walks. It’ll be fine,’ she said, seeing Ben’s pale face. Play along, she thought, pretend everything is all right, even when it isn’t.
She pulled Storm’s lead from the hook in the kitchen and dashed out into the rain. If anyone had hurt Storm, she was going to make them very sorry.
She ran on. Then, halfway along the road that led to the school, she saw David and his aunt. They were standing by the traffic lights, arguing.
‘David!’ Jessie shouted.
They both turned – and as they did, Jessie saw something dangling from Ceridwen’s hand: Storm’s collar.
Jessie’s stomach lurched. She sprinted up the last stretch of road, her feet pounding through puddles. ‘What have you done with Storm?’
CHAPTER 34
Storm snapped at Professor Nuffield’s hands. It did no good, but it was vaguely satisfying when Nuffield yelped in pain. Professor Utterby glanced back from the front seat. ‘Will someone keep that dog under control?’ he asked.
The two professors had first driven back to the school to collect Utterby. Now the car was moving out of town, taking Storm further away from safety, further away from Jessie.
He was a stormhound, Storm reminded himself, not a puppy. He was the one who’d chosen to leave Jessie and he didn’t need the assistance of humans. In fact, he hoped Jessie didn’t try to find him. He hoped he never saw her again – because, if she found him with the professors, there was no saying what they’d do to her. Knowing she was safe at home made Storm braver.
Professor Ryston sneezed, and dug a handkerchief out of his pocket. He wore a jumper that reminded Storm of the Fuzzy-Lady from the dog prison, except that Ryston’s smelled of stale magic. Storm scrabbled across Nuffield’s legs.
‘Calm down, stormhound,’ Professor Utterby said. ‘We won’t keep you long, and then you’ll be free.’
Did they mean to send him back to the Hunt? Storm paused, but then Ryston sniggered. ‘Free of life altogether,’ he said.
That made Storm whine.
‘Do you think he can understand us?’ Nuffield asked.
Utterby braked sharply at a corner, jolting them all forward, then drove
on. ‘A creature of the Otherworld? I have no doubt of it.’
Maybe I’m not a creature of the Otherworld. Maybe I’m just an ordinary puppy and you’re wasting your time.
‘Some people say magic doesn’t belong in this world,’ Professor Utterby continued as if Storm hadn’t said a word. It seemed they couldn’t understand him. ‘Can you believe that, stormhound? I believe magic should belong to everyone – anyone who wants it, that is. The Otherworld has hoarded it far too long.’
You just wait. I’ll show you the power of the Otherworld, Storm growled. He felt his shadow begin to spread across the back seat.
‘If you’d had to fight for every scrap of magic, you’d understand,’ Professor Utterby said. ‘We have devoted our lives to it, building on the traditions of those who came before us. Decades of study, of experimentation, of pushing the boundaries of knowledge. And then I found it – a few lines of a spell, at the back of an ancient book, the ink so faded we could barely read it.’
‘I think this is the right dog, by the way,’ Nuffield said, watching Storm’s shadow writhe.
‘Of course it is. A spell, stormhound, powerful enough to breach the barrier between our world and yours. It took a few attempts, but we did it – we reached into the Otherworld and brought a stormhound crashing down to earth.’
I don’t care what you did. You will release me, or . . . Hold on, a spell?
Professor Nuffield wrapped the spare seat belt round him and pulled it tight, so Storm could barely move. He didn’t resist. A strange lightness filled him. The professors had cast a spell. He hadn’t fallen because he was too weak or too slow to keep up. It had been the professors’ doing!
‘I have to admit I was expecting something a bit more impressive than you,’ Professor Utterby said. ‘But you’ll do. We know all about the power of stormhounds. Your blood, your hair, your tears. You are going to help us restore the Invisible College to its former glory. We can make a hundred different spells from your body. We will use them to seize yet more magic, we will reopen the college and train a whole new generation of sorcerers. We will tear such a rift in the barrier with the Otherworld that it will never close again.’
Storm Hound Page 13
