Authors: Chris Speyer
When the pain had subsided a little, he wrapped his arm in a towel and returned to his room. He didn’t want to touch the bracelet, but he was too tired to think what to do with it. He turned off the light and lay on his bed. In a few minutes, he was asleep.
g
When Zaki woke, the first thing he noticed was the pain from his burnt wrist, then that the laptop was gone from the bedside table. Michael must have come back in the night and taken it. On the table, beside where the laptop had been, there was a circular scorch mark. No wonder the bracelet had burnt his wrist.
The bracelet! With a jolt of panic, Zaki was fully awake. The bracelet! Where was it? Had Michael knocked it on to the floor? He searched under the table, under the bed, the whole room. There was no sign of it. Michael must have taken it. Picked it up, perhaps, to see what it was. What if he put it on?
Zaki flung himself out of the door and raced the few feet to Michael’s room. No Michael. There was the usual mess, but his brother wasn’t there. Frantically, he began to search the room. Where in all this clutter had Michael put the bracelet? It must be here! Please, God, let it be here! He searched every surface, threw the jumbled bedclothes off the bed, ferreted through the boxes of CDs, sifted through the piles of discarded clothes, shook out every garment and went through every pocket.
When he had finished, he went back and did it all again. The bracelet was not in the room. Michael must have it with him.
Fingers of ice gripped Zaki’s heart. Maunder’s spirit was thriving now. Like some monstrous larva that devours its living host, it would overpower whoever next wore the bracelet.
What was the time? Just after seven – very early for Michael to be up and about on a Sunday. Maybe he never went to bed. As he left Michael’s room, Zaki almost collided with his father. His father looked him up and down.
‘Zaki, did you sleep in those clothes?’
Zaki realised that he was still in his uniform from Friday.
‘Zaki, go and have a shower and put something clean on, right now! Honestly! I don’t know what’s go into you two!’
‘Dad, have you seen Michael?’
‘No I haven’t. Isn’t he in his room?’
‘Dad, he’s gone. I think we should look for him.’ Zaki headed for the stairs.
‘Zaki! Come back here and get in the shower, now!’
‘Dad, it’s important!’
‘Get in the shower! Do what you’re told! Your brother may be a teenager but you’re not. Don’t you start acting up!’
‘But, Dad, you don’t understand . . .’
‘No I don’t. Now go and wash.’
What should he do? Disobey his father? Make a run for it? No – maybe he should keep him happy. Perhaps then he’d help him look for Michael.
He turned and went to the bathroom but as he opened the door his father called after him, ‘Zaki – your shoulder – shouldn’t you be wearing your sling?’
‘No, it’s fine. Seems to be better.’
‘Zaki, are you sure . . . ?’
‘It’s fine!’
Zaki shut the door behind him. He didn’t want a long discussion with his father about his shoulder and he didn’t want him to see his burnt wrist.
He washed quickly and put on clean clothes, making sure his sweatshirt sleeve covered the livid red burn. He found his father in the kitchen, eating breakfast.
‘I’m going to look for Michael.’
‘Eat some breakfast before you go anywhere.’
‘Dad, I think Michael might be in trouble.’
‘He is. He’s in trouble with me. You can tell him that if you find him! Where did he go to last night?’
‘I don’t know.’
Zaki’s father shook his head, then, in a gentler voice, said, ‘Come on, sit down and eat something.’
Zaki poured himself cereal and milk and ate it standing up.
‘Dad,’ he said through a mouthful of cereal, ‘won’t you help me look for him?’
‘No I will not – I’ve got better things to do.’
Zaki finished his mouthful.
‘Right. I’m going.’
He put down his bowl and bolted for the door.
‘Aren’t you going to have anything else?’
‘No!’ Grabbing his jacket from the hooks by the front door, Zaki was out and in the street before his father could mention homework or any other thing that might delay him.
Where to start? Was Michael acting like Michael, or was Michael acting like Maunder?
He was acting like Maunder. If he had been acting like Michael, he would still be in bed. Where would Maunder go? What would he do? He was from another time. What would be familiar to him? The harbour. He’d make for the harbour. That seemed the most likely . . . The girl! Rhiannon! He’d try to find Rhiannon!
Zaki’s route to the harbour took him close to Anusha’s place. He decided to make a short detour. He was going to need help.
It was Mrs Dalal who opened the door and she ushered him in with a big friendly smile.
‘We’re all having breakfast. Come and join us.’ Then she called, ‘Anusha! It’s Zaki!’
Anusha looked up, in surprise, from her breakfast, but Mr Dalal jumped to his feet as Zaki entered the kitchen, as though Zaki were an honoured guest.
‘Zaki! What brings you out so early? Take a seat! Take a seat! What will you have? Tea? Coffee? Some toast?’
‘Thanks, Mr Dalal, but I’ve already had breakfast.’
‘My! What a very early bird you are!’
‘I was wondering if Anusha could help me.’
All looked at Anusha.
‘What’s happened?’ she asked, her eyes searching Zaki’s face.
‘We have to find Michael. It’s quite urgent.’
‘Michael?’ asked Mrs Dalal.
‘My brother.’
‘I’ll just get my trainers.’ Anusha was gone and back in a matter of seconds.
‘Is something wrong?’ enquired Mrs Dalal, looking concerned.
‘He’s supposed to be helping my grandad in Salcombe, but he hasn’t turned up,’ Zaki lied.
‘Is there anything we can do to help?’ asked Mr Dalal.
‘You couldn’t give us a lift to Salcombe, could you? He’s probably there, but he’s met up with some mates, or something.’ Grandad’s launch, Zaki thought. They could borrow Grandad’s launch.
‘No problem. Do you want to go now?’
‘Yes please.’
They bundled into Mr Dalal’s car and fifteen minutes later he dropped them off by the boat shed.
‘If you need a lift back, just call me.’
As soon as her father had driven off, Anusha seized Zaki by the arm. ‘What’s happened? What’s going on? Why are we looking for Michael?’
As briefly as he could, Zaki told her about the mask, the bracelet and Maunder, and the fact that the bracelet was gone when he woke up. ‘We need to find Michael and we need to warn Rhiannon. I thought we’d take Grandad’s launch and see if
Curlew
is still in Frogmore Creek.’
The boat shed was locked and Grandad’s car was missing from its parking place.
‘He’s gone somewhere. Probably taken Jenna up to Bolt Head for a walk.’
‘So, what do we do?’
‘He never locks the back. Dad keeps telling him he ought to.’
They squeezed down the narrow passage between the boat shed and the shed next door and let themselves in. Zaki got the lifejackets and helped himself to Grandad’s bunch of boat keys. He scrawled
Taken the launch, Zaki
on a scrap of paper and left it on the workbench.
The old launch’s engine kicked over twice then juddered into life. They cast off and headed out through the moorings, setting the small craft rocking as the launch’s wake fanned out behind them. There was a stiff southerly breeze blowing up the estuary from the sea and Zaki wished he’d put some more clothes on. He looked at Anusha sitting in Jenna’s favourite spot in the bow. He was impressed by the way she hopped in and out of boats as if she’d been doing it all her life. Should he have brought her? Should he have got her mixed up in all this?
They swung round Snapes Point and into The Bag. Ahead, the mudbanks were already appearing as the ebbing tide drained the shallow upper reaches of the estuary. As they passed
Queen of the Dart
, Frogmore Creek opened up to starboard. There was no sign of
Curlew
.
‘She’s gone!’ shouted Anusha over the throb of the engine.
Zaki turned into the mouth of the creek, just to make sure she hadn’t moved the boat. The bottom was mud and weed here and no good for anchoring, she might have moved upstream. He continued round the next bend but there was no sign of her. Any further up would be too shallow for
Curlew
.
‘What now?’ asked Anusha, coming astern so that they could talk more easily.
Zaki put the engine into neutral and let the launch drift downstream on the tide. Now the engine was quieter, Zaki could hear the calls of the waders feeding on the mudbanks, the oystercatchers’ high, whistling cry and the haunting liquid song of the curlews. Some said these birds held the souls of the drowned. Is that why Rhiannon had chosen their name for her boat?
‘I don’t know,’ said Zaki. ‘If Rhiannon was wearing her bracelet, she might have known what happened. Perhaps she’s trying to get away before Maunder catches up with her.’
‘What if he did catch up with her?’
‘You mean Michael . . . Maunder is on
Curlew
?’ It hadn’t occurred to him. But it was possible, of course it was possible. It wasn’t difficult to steal a boat. He could have taken a dinghy from Kingsbridge and come down on the tide.
Anusha nodded. ‘Can you still make phantom creatures without the bracelet?’
‘I think so. I could last night.’
‘Could you use one to look for
Curlew
; see who’s on board?’
‘I can try. You take the helm.’
‘What do I do?’
‘Push the tiller the opposite way from the way you want the boat to go. You’ll soon get the hang of it.’
They changed places and Anusha eased the boat ahead, slowly at first, while she got used to steering. Zaki sat in the bows and gathered his thoughts. He would use the hawk; its exceptional power of sight was what he needed. He recalled the moment in the classroom when it alighted on his arm; its piercing yellow eyes, the hooked beak, the mottled feathers, the way it swivelled its head to look over its shoulder. He held his right arm out level and thought only of the bird . . . nothing happened. How stupid! He’d tried to create it out of thin air! He looked around for a suitable object to transform and found a coil of rope in the bottom of the boat. He stood, cleared his mind once more and thought of the bird, then flung the rope as high into the air as he could. The coil spun end over end, seemed to hang, suspended, go out of focus, blurred, developed an eye, and then the hawk was wheeling and soaring above him.
He sat, closed his eyes, and imagined the world from the hawk’s point of view. Immediately, he was seeing through the hawk’s eyes. The horizon swung up and down in a dizzying see-sawing motion as the hawk’s flight dipped left and right. He saw himself and Anusha in the launch far below. He thought the hawk down the estuary and out to sea and let the strengthening head wind lift it higher and higher until it rose above the rocky pinnacles of Bolt Head. He turned the bird’s head, scanning the coast east and west.
There she was! Reaching fast under full sail, half a mile to sea of the Ham Stone, heading west. The angle of the sail prevented him from seeing how many people were on the boat. He sent the bird after her.
Curlew
leapt and bucked in the short, steep waves that the southerly wind had already whipped up off the headland. Now he could see the cockpit. Now he could see how many were aboard. He let out a groan. Only one person was visible but that person was Michael – at least it appeared to be Michael from the back, but when he saw the scarred face he knew it wasn’t really his brother who was steering the boat. Where was Rhiannon? Had he killed her?
Zaki brought the hawk back across the headland. He held up his arm and made the hawk alight on it, then released it from his mind and the coil of rope dropped back into the boat.
‘I still can’t really believe you can do that,’ said Anusha.
‘I could only see Maunder.’
‘Where’s Rhiannon?’
‘In the cabin, perhaps. Let’s hope so. They’re heading down the coast.’
‘Can we catch them?’
‘Not in this.’
‘Where are they going?’
‘My guess is they’re heading for the Orme.’
‘What if we took
Morveren
?’
Zaki didn’t answer. He looked at Anusha and she looked steadily back at him, waiting for his reply. Take
Morveren
.
Morveren
was a bigger boat than
Curlew
, but heavier. She had a motor and
Curlew
didn’t. They might overtake her.
‘You take the launch back. I’ll take
Morveren
.’
‘Oh no! You said next time you raced you wanted me to crew. Well, this is a race and I’m crewing.’ She altered course, swinging the launch towards
Morveren
’s mooring.
‘Anusha, it’s looking rough out there.’