‘It’s all right,’ he whispered. ‘That’ll be Turpin. She’s probably trying to get a good look at whatever . . . whoever it is.’ He reached out and moved the curtain again. Tanya found that she was holding on to his other arm tightly. They both stared through the window into the clearing.
At first, they saw nothing. Then a breeze ruffled the greenery, taking the washing on the clothes line and lifting it into a gentle dance.
‘Look!’ Ratty pointed. ‘Over there, through that gap in the laundry.’
Behind a green shirt flapping on the line, a pair of thin, pale legs were visible. They were walking slowly towards the van, as though in pain. And no wonder, for only one of the feet had a shoe on. The other was bare and caked in something brown, mud perhaps . . . or congealed blood. A knee-length blue dress came into view as the figure limped closer. Its fabric was torn and muddied. Water dripped from its hem.
A small hand parted the washing on the line and then the figure slipped through. Tanya’s body went rigid. Though her face was almost colourless and the blonde hair was plastered wetly to the cheeks, she recognised the girl immediately.
‘It’s her,’ she said, her voice choked. ‘The girl on the poster . . . the girl who went missing by the river! Nessie Needleteeth didn’t get her – she must have escaped!’
‘She’s soaked, poor thing,’ Ratty said, his face ashen. ‘We have to help her.’
He moved to the door and opened it, stepping outside.
‘Are you all right?’ he called to her.
The girl paused on the other side of the campfire, her face contorted with sobs. She shivered and shook, water dripping from her wet clothes and hair.
‘Please help me,’ she said, through stifled sobs. ‘I’m so cold! I don’t know where I am. I . . . I fell in the river and I got lost.’ Another wretched sob escaped her lips.
‘Tanya, fetch a blanket,’ Ratty said urgently, crossing the clearing. ‘They’re inside the seats. And get another soup bowl; we need to warm her up!’
Tanya rushed to the table and fumbled with one of the benches. Sure enough, the lid lifted up and inside there were piles of blankets and pillows. She dragged one out and jumped down from the van – then gasped as something held her back. She turned round, bewildered.
‘Oberon, what are you doing?’ she scolded. ‘Let go!’
Oberon released her T-shirt from his jaws and backed away, bumping into the table leg. His hackles were up and he shifted from side to side in agitation.
‘What’s wrong, boy?’ she asked.
‘Tanya, the blanket,’ Ratty prompted. Tanya turned back towards him. He had almost reached the girl, who had stopped now and was crouched down, clutching at her foot.
‘Oh, it hurts,’ she moaned.
Oberon began to bark wildly as Tanya took a step towards the girl, but there was another noise, a thumping coming from above. She paused and turned back to see Turpin perched on a branch overhanging the van, whacking a stick against its roof. Her head was shaking from side to side and she was saying something – something Tanya could not hear over the girl’s wails and Oberon’s barking – but Tanya did not need to hear the words to know that Turpin, as well as Oberon, thought something was very wrong.
She whirled back to face Ratty, who was frozen to the spot. Whatever it was, he’d noticed it now, too. His eyes were fixed on the girl’s face, and they were wide and shocked. He took a step back, towards the van.
The girl reached out her hand to him. ‘Help me,’ she repeated, through chattering teeth. ‘I fell into the river and got lost. I’m so cold . . .’
It was the girl’s colour, Tanya realised finally, that wasn’t quite right. That gave it away. Her skin – lips, especially – should have been bluish if she was so cold. But they were virtually colourless, like the rest of her. Even her dress was bleached and pale.
She looks . . . wrong
, Tanya thought.
Not like a real person at all, but like . . . like . . .
Like a photograph that had once been in colour, but had been bleached out by the sun.
Ratty took another step back. The girl stopped crying and slowly stood up. And, in the gaps between Oberon’s barks, Tanya could finally hear Turpin’s high-pitched voice saying two words over and over again:
‘Glamour! Danger!’
Ratty spun on his heels, panic etched across his face. ‘Get back in the van!’ he cried.
Tanya turned and dived back inside, confused and terrified. The van was now full of steam from the soup boiling away furiously on the hob, causing her to skid on the slippery floor. She hit the table hard, sending a painful jolt through her elbow. She watched the girl slowly stand up as Ratty raced towards the van. She was no longer sobbing. Instead, her face was curiously blank. The sudden change sent a ripple of fear over Tanya’s skin. What on earth was going on?
Ratty was perhaps two strides away from the door when another much larger figure came crashing sideways from out of nowhere, knocking him to the ground.
‘Ratty!’ Tanya screamed.
Ratty grunted as he hit the dirt, rolling back in the direction of the campfire ashes. The hooded attacker scrambled after him, grabbing his leg. Ratty grabbed a handful of ash and threw it into his assailant’s face, causing the person to yell – a deep, male voice – and release him.
Coughing, Ratty crawled to his feet. He staggered only a couple of steps before the man was on his feet once more. His face, thick spectacles and the iron-grey hair spilling over his shoulders were now covered with ash. He wiped it away and lunged again.
‘Hurry!’ Tanya urged. Above her, Turpin was still shrieking and kicking up a din in the tree. Tanya scanned her surroundings for something she could use as a weapon. Her gaze rested on the saucepan. She rushed to the hob and grabbed it, then leaped from the van towards Ratty, who was just a whisker from the man’s outstretched fingers.
‘Duck!’ she yelled, hurling the bubbling contents of the pan. Ratty swerved just in time. As the boiling liquid met his fingers, the man’s scream echoed through the clearing. He shook it from his hand, cursing, but somehow kept coming.
‘Quickly!’ Tanya shouted, but Ratty was not quick enough. A split second later, he was grabbed from behind and a dark rag was forced over his mouth. He struggled furiously against it, but his attacker held it firm.
‘No ’ Ratty began, his voice muffled.
Tanya thought quickly. The man was much taller than Ratty and wider, too. Desperate, she decided to take a risk. She threw the saucepan as hard as she could, but this time her aim was off and the man dodged it easily.
In any case, she was too late. Ratty’s limbs went limp and his eyes rolled back in his head. Whatever was on the rag had rendered him unconscious, and she could only watch as he was dragged away.
‘Get the fairy,’ she heard the retreating man say to the dripping figure. ‘We’ll take care of the girl later.’ With that, he vanished beyond the trees, taking Ratty with him.
‘Ratty! RATTY!’ Tanya yelled.
The only response she got was a low, spiteful chuckling. It was coming from the little girl from the river. The little girl who was somehow not a little girl. Tanya stared at her. She – it – had not moved. She was still, watching Tanya intently. Her face was no longer blank, but instead wore a sly, unpleasant grin. She was still dripping water, Tanya realised dimly. That wasn’t right, either, for the river was some distance away. She should not be as wet as that by now.
Tanya jumped as the girl took a step in her direction. Her movements were sure and steady, like a predator. Oberon began to snarl and snap as she came nearer. She gave him a scornful look, then her eyes rested on something above the van. For the first time, Tanya became aware of a muffled sound above her, a quiet, shocked sobbing.
‘Turpin,’ she said hoarsely. ‘She’s coming for you. You have to run!’
The words had barely left her mouth before the river girl launched herself with surprising speed at the camper van, clambering up its sides like an animal before vanishing on to the roof. The van rocked and swayed, and the air was suddenly choked with growls and frightened squeals. Tanya grabbed the table to steady herself, almost tripping over Oberon. Something hit the window behind her and Tanya turned in time to see a wing flash past. It was swiftly followed by a filthy, mud-caked foot before the two figures set off into the trees. With that final jerk, the van was still.
Tanya ran to the door. The sounds of scurrying faded rapidly, leaving only the hiss of the leaves in the wind.
‘Turpin?’ she cried, fighting a bubble of panic that threatened to silence her. ‘Turpin? Ratty?’
Nothing answered her.
They were gone.
10
A Tricksy Magic
T
ANYA SLAMMED THE VAN DOOR SHUT and slid the catch. She stood for a moment, unable to do anything except shake. Her eyes blurred with unshed tears. She forced herself not to give in and weep. Ratty was gone. Turpin was gone. Crying would not bring either of them back or help Tanya return to Hawthorn Cottage in safety. For that she needed a clear head.
We’ll take care of the girl later.
The threat echoed in her thoughts. How long did she have before they returned for her? And what did they even want with her anyway? She drew in a deep breath and blew it out slowly, trying to calm herself. A gentle movement caught her eye. The rowan berry charm in the doorway swayed lightly from where she had rushed past it. It was a reminder that she must focus.
Quickly, she moved around the van, checking behind each drawn curtain that all the protective charms were still in place. When she reached the kitchen area, it occurred to her that it was strangely warm . . . until she found that the hob was still on from heating the soup. She turned it off and went to sit at the table, glad to take the weight off her jelly-like legs. Oberon laid his head on her lap, whining softly.
Ratty’s letter was on the table where he had left it. She picked it up and read it again. Clearly, his father had been right about having been discovered, but what had become of him? Had he made it to the dungeon below the castle and left further instructions for Ratty? Or had he been captured, too? One thing was certain: Tanya was the only person who knew Ratty had been taken – and the only one who could help him. And, right now, she wasn’t safe, either.
She folded the letter and put it into her pocket. Then she got up and checked the windows once more, this time peering past the curtains for any sign of movement. Everything looked quiet, yet it brought no comfort. Whoever had taken Ratty had been watching them without them knowing and had tricked them just as easily.
A mixture of anger and fear flooded through her. They had been so foolish to fall for it, so utterly gullible. Whoever the little girl was, it couldn’t have been the
real
her that Tanya and Ratty had seen shivering in the clearing. So what was it they had seen – a ghost? She dismissed the idea as soon as it occurred, remembering the girl’s cruel smile. Ghosts did not pretend to be one thing when they were another. Nor did they lure unsuspecting children away from safety to be snatched. They had seen the girl and instinctively rushed to help. Whoever –
whatever
– it had been, it had set out to trap them.
Tanya glanced around the van. She had to leave before they returned for her, but first she had to find some way to protect herself. She guessed that Ratty’s red neckerchief, and the iron and salt he’d been carrying, would have protected him from fairies. So did this mean the man who had taken him was not fey? In that case, she would need a weapon effective against humans.
She moved to the kitchen, rummaging through the drawers. There was nothing, just a little paring knife with a blunt, wobbly blade. She put it back and moved to the door.
‘Here, Oberon,’ she said softly. Oberon squeezed out from under the table, his tail firmly between his legs. He looked even more reluctant to go outside than Tanya felt. ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ she told him. ‘But we have to be brave. Both of us.’
She clicked open the catch and pulled the door back, wincing at the noise. In the silent surroundings, it sounded too loud. She took Oberon’s leash and wrapped it tightly round her wrist. One end was leather, but the other was a fairly thick chain. It could act as a weapon if she needed it. Cautiously, she scanned the clearing, paying attention to the area behind the washing line in case something, or someone, was hidden behind the hanging clothes. All seemed still.
Tanya stepped down from the van, coaxing Oberon out after her. Her heart started to pound. She slid the door shut again. There was no key to lock it, for it had vanished with Ratty. She wondered if it mattered – whether Ratty or his father would ever again return to the van – then pushed the horrible thought away.
She crept past the campfire and ducked under the washing line, heading to the opening where the trees gave way to the meadow. Still there were no sounds of life, no fairies’ whispers, birdsong or evidence of any other creatures. Soon she reached the edge of the trees and could see the meadow beyond, wide open and empty save for the horses in the distance. Where was she safest? In the meadow, she’d easily be able to see if anyone was chasing her, but she would also be seen herself. Here, in the tree-lined grove where she had some chance of staying hidden, it meant that others could hide, too. Either way, there was only so far she could go before the trees ended.
She decided to stick to the fringes of the grove as far as she possibly could. She’d have to make a break across the meadow to get to the river soon enough. The knowledge sat in the pit of her stomach, a tight ball of fear. She crept from tree to tree, keeping Oberon close.
Something crackled behind her. She whipped round, seeing nothing. Oberon’s ears were pricked up and alert, his nose scenting the air. Then a small, brown blur hurtled towards them, flinging itself at Tanya’s legs.
‘Turpin!’ she exclaimed. Her heart leaped; she never thought she’d be so pleased to see Ratty’s grubby little friend.
‘Quiet, silly girl!’ Turpin hissed. Her small face was pinched and scared. She clambered up Tanya’s body and stood on her shoulder, her eyes wide and watchful. ‘We must go quickly.’ She seized a strand of Tanya’s hair and flicked it like a rein. ‘Hurry now.’