‘David . . . Go!’ Ceridwen said.
David’s arm jerked. ‘She’s never called me David before.’
Jessie pulled at him again and this time he followed her. The ground rose sharply, slippery with mud. Storm zigzagged in front of them, sniffing at the earth.
‘I should have stayed a hare,’ David muttered as a red flash lit up the trees behind them. ‘Hares never have this kind of trouble. You become human, then you start to think like a human. You start caring about things, and it always ends in disaster.’
A tree fell over behind them with a crash that made Jessie jump. Her heart felt like it was about to burst out of her. Ceridwen shouted, and the shout turned into an animal cry of pain. Looking back, Jessie could see flashes of light, like fireworks through the trees. She slowed, but Storm ran back and nipped at her heels.
‘I wish I’d never even heard of Abergavenny,’ she said, breathless.
David caught up with her. ‘If it helps, I’m glad you’re here. If I have to be in mortal peril, I’d rather do it with a friend.’ He clambered up a steep patch and turned back, holding out his hand. ‘You don’t seem very surprised by all this. Most humans refuse to believe in magic, even if it happens right in front of them.’
Jessie grasped his hand to pull herself up. ‘I think if something is happening right in front of you it’s a good idea to believe in it.’ Besides, after seeing David turn into a hare and back she was prepared to believe anything was possible.
Storm ran around them, barking, as another flash of magic lit the sky.
‘Don’t worry,’ Jessie said to him. ‘They won’t hurt you. I won’t let them.’
They couldn’t help by going back. They had to go on – they had to find the Hunt. It was the only way Storm would ever be safe.
They kept running, stumbling over the rough ground, until the slope levelled and they emerged from the trees on to a wide ridge where the wind howled in their faces. Jessie stopped, and rested her hands on her knees, panting for breath. Above them, the sky rolled with thick, black cloud. Jessie could just make out the town spread out between the mountains.
‘Well, we’re here,’ she said. ‘What do we do now?’
Storm growled like thunder. Straightening up, Jessie saw a red mass collect over the treetops and three shapes rise into it. The professors.
Jessie reached for David’s hand, her insides churning. Ceridwen had failed. The professors were coming – and where was the Wild Hunt? Storm jumped up at her, pawing at the bottom of her coat.
‘It’s all right,’ Jessie said. Her voice shook. ‘I won’t let them have you.’
‘Neither will I,’ David said fiercely. Jessie shot him a grateful smile and started to run along the ridge, looking about for anywhere they could hide. Nothing. There weren’t even any trees up here, just rough jags of rock. The sky rumbled and an answering tremor shook the ground.
‘You can stop running now,’ a voice said behind them. It was Professor Utterby.
Jessie stumbled. David let out a low cry of dismay.
The three professors stepped on to the mountain ridge together. Nuffield and Ryston had lost their weapons, and all three of them were bleeding in places – that was something, at least. Professor Utterby leaned on his staff and held one hand inside his coat as if injured.
David started forward. ‘What have you done with my aunt?’ His whole body was shaking.
Professor Utterby smiled and drew his hand out from under his coat.
Jessie gasped. Storm barked and David swayed and stumbled.
Professor Utterby held a white hare by the back legs. It twitched feebly in his grasp, its amber eyes wide open but clouded and unseeing.
‘Your aunt’s magic isn’t as strong as she likes to think,’ Professor Utterby said carelessly. ‘She really shouldn’t have challenged us. It was three against one, after all.’
‘Let her go,’ David shouted. His face was white, his fists clenched.
‘Gladly.’ Professor Utterby tossed the hare’s limp body into the grass. ‘And, in exchange, you’ll hand over the dog.’
David stood, tears running down his face with the rain. He’d agree. He had to: he couldn’t let his aunt die. He’d let the professors take Storm, and he’d blame himself forever for it. Jessie’s ankle throbbed and she had a stitch in her side, but she barely felt the pain. The professors had won.
‘She might even recover – in time,’ Professor Nuffield said with a smile.
And then Jessie was angry. The professors didn’t need to do this. They could take Storm now and there was nothing she or David could do to stop them. They just wanted David to admit his aunt had lost.
She bent to stroke Storm’s wet coat with a trembling hand. ‘Don’t worry,’ she said. ‘It’ll be all right.’ It was the biggest lie she’d ever told. How could anything be all right after this?
Lightning split the sky right above her.
‘You could still join us,’ Professor Ryston said. ‘Don’t you want to know all the secrets of the world?’
Was he really that stupid?
‘No,’ Jessie said. ‘I don’t.’ She wanted to be normal, to live with her mum and dad and Ben, and she didn’t even care where they lived any more. She wanted to go to school, go to birthday parties, draw pictures of Storm playing in the garden and not have to worry about people trying to hurt him. Mum and Dad had split their family in half, but the professors were threatening to destroy everything.
The rage inside her compacted down to a single, white-hot point. She stood up straight and faced the three of them. She knew she couldn’t beat them – she’d just seen them defeat Ceridwen. All she could do was gain them a little time for David to do something clever, or for help to come. ‘I am Jessica Price,’ she said. ‘Protector of my Friends and my Home. Professor Utterby, Professor Ryston, Professor Nuffield, by all the laws of magic, I challenge you.’
Everything stopped. Her words hung in the air like thunder. The professors stared at her, their mouths dropping open.
‘Jessie, no!’ David said, aghast.
Professor Utterby took a step back. ‘You’re challenging us? You and the puppy?’
Jessie hadn’t thought to bring Storm into it, but she felt him pressing against her legs. She locked her knees to stop them trembling and nodded. ‘Yes. Me and the puppy. The sorcerer’s challenge, right? You can’t do anything until you’ve accepted or surrendered.’
Professor Utterby laughed softly. ‘I don’t think so. Nuffield, get the dog.’
Ryston shook his head. ‘Sorry. This is unorthodox, but she has challenged.’
‘He’s right,’ Nuffield said.
Jessie’s heart pounded.
‘They’ll kill you,’ David whispered, his voice fierce.
‘I know.’ They didn’t want to, though: she could see the hesitation in their faces. It was the only thing that gave her hope.
Professor Utterby lowered his gaze. ‘It appears we have no choice. Challenge—’
Then Storm howled.
CHAPTER 38
I am Storm of Odin and I am here.
His cry felt like a solid thing, crashing off stones and trees, echoing right up to the sky and back. He filled it with all his frustration, his rage at this confusing, broken world. The dog prison, the vet with her needles, the annoyance of cats. The obedience class where humans practised pretending they were in charge. He caught the scent of hare, the solid warmth of sheep and, with them, a faint but unmistakeable trace of dogs, horses and ancient magic.
He was a stormhound, a creature of the Otherworld. His heart beat with magic. And his tears . . .
He dropped his head, left Jessie’s side and padded to where the white hare lay shivering in the grass. She would have killed him, but only because she didn’t know any better. And she was David’s family, not by blood but with ties far stronger than that. If she died, David would suffer, and Jessie with him.
‘What’s he doing?’ Professor Utterby murmured.
I am Storm of Odin, stormhound of the Wild Hunt. He blinked, and two of the drops of water that ran down his face were not rain. They spilt in twin silver trails from his eyes and dripped on to the hare’s body.
The hare shuddered. Lightning broke the sky and all the rocks around them heaved as if the mountain were about to split open.
‘Stop him,’ Nuffield said, his voice sharp with panic. Storm jumped back, snarling as Professor Utterby moved to grab him. Another flash of lightning. And, on the ground, white fur bristled, shifted and changed.
Ceridwen stood between Storm and the professors, whole again.
‘The tears of a stormhound,’ David breathed. ‘They heal all injuries.’
He ran to Ceridwen, and she put an arm round his shoulders, gazing down at Storm. ‘I never imagined anyone would shed tears for me,’ she said. ‘Let alone a stormhound. I may have been wrong about you.’
Yes, you were, Storm agreed.
‘Of course you were wrong,’ Jessie said. ‘Storm is the best dog in the world.’
Not a dog, Jessie. He raised his head to the sky and howled again.
‘Excuse me,’ Professor Utterby said, ‘I hate to bring it up, but the child did challenge us.’
Then the sky parted overhead and thunder came charging over the mountain like the hooves of giant horses. The sky filled with howling: dozens of voices answering him. Storm felt himself swell with the sound.
I am Storm of Odin, hound of the Wild Hunt. I am here.
He turned and faced the figures emerging from the storm. Horses alighted on the brown earth, breathing out smoke and flame. Hounds rushed past, barking in a frenzy. And, at the head of them all, swinging his legs over his horse and jumping with a thump on to the storm-flattened grass, was a figure clad in grey armour. He stood taller than the horses, broad-shouldered and wild. His hair flowed out from beneath a bronze helmet. He held a spear that was as tall as he was. His left eye was dark as the hills, and, where his right eye should be, a livid scar spread across the empty socket.
Odin. The god of the storm.
Storm flattened himself to the grass. The Wild Hunt had returned.
CHAPTER 39
Jessie stared in amazement. Dogs surrounded her – dogs so big their shoulders were level with hers, some as black as midnight, others with long, pale coats and red ears. And horses with crimson manes, their breath steaming in the rain, hooves churning up mud on the mountain ridge. And, in the middle of them all, the man she’d seen in her dream. His armour was patched and broken as if it had weathered a thousand storms. His single eye burned with fierce light and the ground trembled where he trod.
The three professors had turned completely white. Ryston and Nuffield were trying to hide behind Professor Utterby.
‘Girl, we accept your challenge,’ Utterby said quickly. His face twitched in a nervous smile. ‘Now no one can touch us until we have fought.’
Ceridwen cast Jessie a frown. She seemed least affected of them all by the sudden appearance of the Wild Hunt.
‘You challenged them?’ she asked Jessie. ‘By all the powers of magic, whatever possessed you to do such a stupid thing?’
Jessie swallowed the lump in her throat. ‘They were going to kill Storm.’
Storm stood up, and Jessie saw that he’d grown. He was almost as tall as she was now, his head level with her shoulder. Jessie ought to be afraid, but somehow she wasn’t. The dogs and the horses, even the tall, one-eyed man, seemed familiar, and not just from her dreams.
Odin looked from Jessie to the professors and back. ‘You were a brave child before, and you still are,’ he said. ‘If you have challenged, then you must follow it through and fight.’
Then he smiled, and handed Jessie his spear.
And Jessie remembered . . .
Baby brothers were boring, even on holiday.
Especially on holiday. Mum and Dad had no time to play. All they wanted to do was feed the baby, change the baby’s clothes, bath the baby. Everything was about the baby, and Jessie was starting to wish Ben had never arrived in their house.
Now it was raining and she wasn’t even allowed to go in the garden. She hated this silly little house, and she hated being a big sister. Why should Ben get everything, just because he was smaller?
The front window had a wide, wooden seat, and she knelt there with her face against the glass, watching the rain. Maybe, if it rained hard enough, this house would be washed away and they could all go home.
The sky outside grumbled as if agreeing with her. Then Jessie saw something. As the thunder rolled, a quick flash of light lit the clouds and she thought she saw horses.
‘Look,’ she said. But Mum was asleep, her head nodding on her chest, and Dad wasn’t there at all. Jessie slid down from the seat and padded out to the staircase. She heard his voice, singing to the baby.
‘Horses,’ she said.
Dad paused. ‘That’s nice. Be a good girl.’
But she wanted to see the horses. She looked up at the front door, then stood on tiptoe and grasped the handle. It was almost too high to reach, but she just managed it. The door swung inwards, almost knocking her off her feet. Silly door. Jessie picked up Mum’s umbrella – she knew you needed umbrellas in the rain – and, trailing it behind her, she walked out uncertainly into the storm.
She couldn’t see the horses any more. Where had they gone? She marched to the garden gate and, because it was open, she went through, crossed the lane outside and squeezed through a gap in the hedge into the field beyond. Her umbrella snagged on the hedge and she left it there. She saw sheep in the next field, and a great tree, bigger than anything she’d ever seen before. Jessie started towards it.
Lightning flashed and she fell down, too surprised to cry. Then a horse landed right in front of her, almost as if it had fallen from the sky. Another one followed, and another. Dogs too. Jessie tried to hug the legs of one of them. It licked her face and she giggled.
A tall man got down from a horse. He wore a funny-looking helmet with horns and he only had one eye.
‘Poor face,’ Jessie said.
The man bent his knees until his face was only just above hers. ‘You shouldn’t be out here, little one.’ His voice was deep as thunder. ‘Where have you come from?’
Jessie pointed back across the field. ‘I came to see the horses.’
The horses were beautiful, but frightening too. Something told Jessie they shouldn’t be out here either.
‘You’re too big,’ she said. ‘Go away. Go home.’
The big man gave a rumble of laughter. ‘You’re a brave child.’ He set her on his horse and led her across the grass to the tree. Jessie clung on, rain running into her open mouth, too frightened, too fascinated, to cry.
‘Stay here,’ the man said, putting her down under the tree. ‘You’ll be safe.’ He looked into her face, his single eye holding her gaze. ‘You have a baby brother,’ he said softly. ‘You should protect him. The people you love are your home. As you grow, you’ll understand that.’
Then he called to the riders and the dogs, and they raced across the field and back into the sky. Jessie stood and watched, until there was another flash of lightning and they vanished.
Moments later, she heard Dad shouting her name.
‘Jessie,’ David said, shaking her arm. Jessie blinked and wiped her hands over her face.
‘I really did go outside to see the horses,’ she said. She turned to the one-eyed man. ‘I saw them. I saw you.’
He nodded gravely. ‘Few mortals do. You had a touch of magic to you even then, I think. And now it is up to you. This is your home
– protect it.’
Her home. Jessie glanced to either side at David and Storm. David grinned nervously and Storm bared his teeth and growled. In a moment he was almost as big as the other dogs that milled about the mountain peak. He sat down, bared his teeth and growled.
Utterby stepped back. ‘Maybe I was too hasty . . .’
Odin’s spear buzzed in Jessie’s hand. She gripped it firmly, thinking of Mum and Dad and Ben, the new house, her school, Prisha who’d invited her to a party . . . even Mrs Williams next door. ‘You don’t belong here,’ she said slowly. ‘You’re not taking Storm – you’re not taking anything. Go away.’
Professor Utterby aimed his staff at her, then he seemed to change his mind, grabbed something out of his pocket with his left hand and threw it. White crystals stung her eyes. Salt.
‘Storm, look out!’ Jessie said, remembering the chemistry class. Storm shook himself as the first crystals burst into flame.
‘It’s a shame you wouldn’t let us teach you,’ Professor Utterby said. ‘You have talent. Still, there are plenty of other people in the world who do want to learn. We’ll find them.’
He threw another handful of salt. Little fires flickered all around, most of them going out quickly in the rain. Jessie stepped back, suddenly uncertain. Who did she think she was, challenging the professors?
Storm nudged her. You can do this.
She wasn’t sure whether the thought came from Storm or from herself, but she felt warmth spread through her.
Professor Utterby thumped his staff on the ground and his gaze flicked to Ryston and Nuffield on either side of him. ‘On the count of three,’ he said. ‘One, two . . .’
His staff blazed with magical light. Jessie swung Odin’s spear without thinking. Lightning and earthfire met in a crash that made the mountain tremble. Jessie shouted, but kept hold of Odin’s staff, steadying it in both hands as light poured out of it. Every hair on her body seemed to be standing on end.
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