‘It’s no use running.’ The eerie voice rose up from behind. It had changed now. It was no longer the voice of a little girl, but instead deeper and older . . . and much more cunning. ‘There’s nowhere for you to go.’
Tanya turned back, coughing. Anger made her bold.
‘What have you done with Ratty?’ she yelled. Another bout of coughing almost cost her her balance. A plank of wood cracked beneath her. She wobbled, then managed to right herself, hopping to another sturdier piece. She was ahead of Turpin now, but Oberon had beaten them both to the other side and was waiting patiently. More lumps of wood broke away and were sucked into the green water rushing past them.
‘Don’t worry about the boy,’ said the creature. ‘He’s safe. He won’t be harmed as long as he gives us what we want.’
‘Lies!’ Turpin hissed. ‘All lies!’
‘Then why are you chasing us?’ Tanya demanded. ‘If Ratty’s the one you want?’
The thing smiled. ‘To make sure you understand we don’t mean any harm to your friend.’
‘Close your ears,’ said Turpin. ‘It says these things only to slow you down!’
Tanya knew Turpin was right; the creature was trying to distract her, but at the same time the urge to find out what was going on was too strong to ignore.
‘What is it that you want from Ratty?’ she demanded.
The creature’s eyes narrowed craftily. ‘He stole something long ago. A memory. Now he must give it back.’
Tanya thought of the letter from Ratty’s father. It had only mentioned a dangerous ‘someone’, not
two
people, and Ratty hadn’t known what the memory was at all. ‘Then you’re wasting your time,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t know where it is or even
what
it is!’
‘Perhaps not,’ said the thing. ‘But
somebody
does . . .’
Tanya was almost at the riverbank, with only a few dangerous steps left to take. She knew she had to keep moving, but found herself unable to tear her eyes away from its face. Something odd was happening. Its face was bubbling and rippling, becoming longer and losing the childlike plumpness. Things shifted – bones, Tanya realised – under the surface of the skin, and the hair thinned and fell out in clumps leaving a bald, scabbed head. The cheeks hollowed and the eyes became sunken. It was awful, grotesque, and yet Tanya couldn’t look away.
‘What’s happening to it?’ Her voice shook, thin and scared.
‘The running water,’ said Turpin. ‘It cannot cross the river without breaking the tricksy glamour. Whatever it really is, we shall soon see.’
‘But why is it still chasing us?’ Tanya said, panicked. ‘Ratty said running water would stop a fairy.’
‘Only if it
is
a fairy,’ Turpin squeaked. ‘And only then from chasing a human.’ She dodged a flame that had begun to singe her wing. ‘It can still chase other fairies – like Turpin.’
The thing edged closer. Its body was changing now, too. The shoulders widened, ripping through the blue dress and leaving it in tatters. Underneath it, the pale skin hung in doughy folds, as though it had been stretched and strained many, many times.
On the riverbank Oberon began to growl. Tanya looked up. His hackles were raised and his teeth bared, his brown eyes fixed intently on something in the water. She followed his stare to the murky-green river, seeing nothing except broken wood and bubbles. Then something shifted just under the surface, and she thought she saw a strand of hair floating on the surface before it vanished in an eye blink.
The bridge shook dangerously, and the sounds of splintering wood rose above the creaks and groans. It collapsed further, sinking deeper into the bubbling water. With no time to hesitate, Tanya took a flying leap at the riverbank, clearing the last of the wood. She landed ankle deep in water, not quite making the bank first time. She gasped as the cold water and mud sucked at her feet, but managed to squelch her way out to safety. Anxious, she turned and scanned the bridge for Turpin – and froze.
The bridge was now almost entirely underwater. Huge pieces of it were breaking away and floating off with the swirling current. Between two huge planks, partially underwater, Turpin floundered, watching the creature. Her expression was one of horror mixed with something else that Tanya could have sworn was recognition.
Frozen, Turpin was whispering something, a word Tanya didn’t recognise: ‘Morghul . . . Morghul.’ It made no sense. Was it another type of fey creature . . . or could it be a name?
Behind her, the scab-headed creature grinned, reaching out.
‘Turpin, move!’ Tanya yelled.
‘Can’t!’ Turpin struggled in vain, getting nowhere. She was trapped.
Tanya cast her eyes about for anything that could help. If only she had something she could throw to Turpin, to help pull her free . . .
Oberon’s leash! It was still wrapped tightly round her wrist. If she went back on to the bridge a little way and threw it, it should be long enough to reach Turpin.
Swallowing hard, she stood at the river’s edge. The last thing she wanted was to climb back on to the sinking bridge, but if Turpin was to have any chance she had no choice. Screwing up her courage, she leaped back across the water, landing badly on a smoking lump of wood and jolting her ankle painfully once more. She gritted her teeth and began to unwind the leash.
‘No!’ Turpin shouted, seeing what she was about to do. ‘Go back. You must escape!’
‘I’m not leaving without you!’ Tanya shouted.
‘How touching,’ the scab-headed thing crooned. Its bony fingers wrapped round Turpin’s arm and tugged, hard. Turpin’s screech of pain made the hair on the back of Tanya’s neck stand on end.
‘Let her go!’ she yelled, shaking the leash free. ‘Take your hands off her!’
The creature grinned and tugged again, the movement forcing them deeper into the water. Now only Turpin’s head and shoulders were visible. The river weed rippled around them . . . then erupted in a green fountain of hair, teeth and long, lean arms. Nessie Needleteeth rose out of the water and loomed over them, her wide, gurgling mouth open and her hideous teeth glinting. This time, Turpin’s screams were joined by those of the other creature as the river hag sank her teeth into its droopy white flesh, dragging it backwards. Something snapped beneath the water and Turpin bobbed to the surface. She tried to lift herself on to a piece of nearby wood, but her face twisted in pain and she fell back into the water again. Just inches from her face, violent thrashing movements disturbed the water and horrible gargling noises filled the air. Things crunched and bubbled below the water. Shreds of faded blue fabric rose to the surface, floating eerily downstream. The water stilled.
Then, further along, the pale-skinned creature broke the surface of the water, gasping. It fought the current, but whatever injuries it had sustained had weakened it, and it thrashed and drifted away from Nessie’s clutches and out of sight.
‘Turpin!’ Tanya shouted. ‘Grab this!’ Clipping one end of the leash to her belt, she threw the looped leather end in Turpin’s direction. It hit the water just out of her reach and sank. Quickly, Tanya gathered it in and threw again. This time it slipped through Turpin’s fingers and vanished beneath the water once more. Growling in frustration, Tanya hauled it in a second time.
‘Please catch it this time,’ she murmured, for she could see that Turpin was losing strength. She threw a third time and it seemed to work . . . until a green hand shot out of the water and seized the leather loop. It tugged, pulling Tanya to her knees. She cried out as she landed, splinters piercing the palms of her hands. The river hag lurched out of the water again, Oberon’s leash clenched firmly in her fist. Her other hand reached for Turpin, encircling the fairy’s wrist. She smiled a terrible smile, water leaking from her teeth. White shards of bone were tangled in her hair. She yanked the chain again, pulling Tanya flat against the sinking wood.
Tanya spat river water out of her mouth. She struggled, trying to unclip the leash from her belt, but succeeded only in grazing her knuckles against the wood. Another pull from Nessie took her out further. Thinking fast, she grabbed the chain with both hands and tugged with all her might, pulling Nessie towards her. The river hag’s mouth opened in surprise and she toppled forward with a screech, spraying foul water into the air. Tanya used the distraction to unhook the leash from her belt and yanked it again violently. It was enough to wrench it free from Nessie’s fingers – but not enough to make her release Turpin.
The river hag rose up in fury, her eyes blazing. Her mouth opened and the song began, a watery, lilting gurgle that Tanya knew would sound very different if she were not protected. She staggered backwards, sliding on the damp wood. Nessie cut through the water like an eel, still clutching Turpin.
Tanya twisted away from the water, hauling herself over the wreckage of the bridge. Like a shepherd, Nessie was herding her to the middle of the river, where the centre of the bridge was now completely underwater. Tanya was all out of ideas. Not only had she failed to save Turpin, but it now looked unlikely that she would escape the river hag, either. She considered jumping off the bridge and trying to swim for the bank, but having seen Nessie move so quickly she knew she would never make it in time. Besides, she would never forgive herself if she abandoned Turpin now. There had to be something she could do . . .
She caught sight of the poster of the missing girl on the board nearby. Its tattered corners flapped in the breeze like a trapped bird trying to fly away. A horrid thought forced its way into Tanya’s mind: would it be her own face on that board in a few days’ or weeks’ time? Would she be just another missing person, like that poor little girl? Even though she was protected from Nessie’s song, she knew that the river hag did not really need magic to kill her. All she would have to do was hold her under the water until Tanya could no longer fight. Or perhaps a slow roll in the mud at the bottom of the river like crocodiles did, until their prey stopped struggling. And then those teeth . . .
Stop it!
she told herself. She had to focus. Nessie hadn’t won yet and Tanya had surprised her once. Perhaps she could do it again. On the riverbank, Oberon began to bark. Tanya looked down at the leash still clenched in her hand, pulling herself on to a piece of wood that was higher up as Nessie loomed closer.
‘Come to me, child,’ she croaked. Her voice was wet and rasping, like something that had drowned long ago. ‘I’ll make it quick.’ She ran her fat, grey tongue over her terrible teeth, eyeing Tanya’s arm. ‘Juicy, juicy, tender . . .’
‘Never!’ Tanya hissed. ‘You’ll have to catch me.’
Nessie threw back her head and laughed, spurting green water from her mouth. Her eyes flashed with excitement. ‘My pleasure.’ She lunged through the water again, dragging a shivering, choking Turpin with her, and grabbed on to a piece of wood near Tanya’s foot that was hanging like a thread. She ripped it away easily and flung it into the water like it was no more than a matchstick, then seized another. ‘If I have to,’ she gurgled, ‘I’ll tear this bridge apart piece by piece until there’s nothing left.’
Tanya glanced desperately to either side of the river, hoping to spot someone who could help her. There was no one, not even a dog walker in sight. She backed away further, stumbling over slippery, crooked wood. She loosened the leash, wrapping the leather strap round her wrist, and allowed the heavy chain end to fall free at her side. As the river hag’s hand took hold of another piece of wood and began wrenching it apart, Tanya swung the leash as hard as she could.
It snapped down on the gnarled, green fingers with a satisfying
thwack
. With a violent scream, Nessie snatched back her hand like she had been stung, releasing Turpin from her grasp.
‘Turpin, swim!’ Tanya cried. ‘Swim for the riverbank!’
Coughing and spluttering, Turpin obeyed. Her movements were slow and jerky. Nessie could have caught her in a heartbeat. The river hag cast a dismissive glance at Turpin escaping then turned back to Tanya with a cruel smile. ‘Small bones,’ she said. ‘Hardly worth picking my teeth with. But you . . .’ She smacked her lips. ‘There’s enough meat on you to keep my belly full for weeks. A leg here . . . an arm there. Ten scrumptious little toes to snack on . . .’
‘Do not listen!’ Turpin squeaked, coughing through mouthfuls of water.
Tanya clutched at the broken handrail, weak with horror. She knew Turpin was right; Nessie was now trying to overpower her with words, to cripple her with fear. She drew the leash through the water, ready to strike again. The river hag sank lower into the water, then vanished beneath the murky-green surface. Tanya’s head whipped this way and that, her eyes finding every bubble, every ripple. The water stilled and became eerily silent, the only sounds and movement from Turpin’s clumsy doggy-paddle as she neared the river’s edge.
Tentatively, Tanya made for the bank along the burnt bridge, still grasping the broken rail for support. She could not remember a time when her heart had ever hammered so hard; every thud seemed to rattle her ribcage. She stepped over a space where a board was missing, testing the next one for safety.
A green hand shot through the gap and grabbed her ankle. Tanya shrieked, trying to shake herself free, but a swift tug pulled her off balance. She slid across the slimy wood, crashing through what was left of the handrail. Turpin’s scream and Oberon’s frenzied barks were the last things she heard before she hit the water.
She crashed into the icy-cold depths, her feet thrashing out, searching for the bottom. It seemed endless. Her toes struck something in the deep, a hard structure: a piece of the bridge, maybe, or a bicycle? Her hands snagged on long strands of slimy weeds . . . or hair. Bony fingers wrapped themselves round her wrists, tugging her down deeper. She lashed out, kicking anywhere, her feet finding soft flesh, freeing herself and buying valuable seconds. Her head broke the surface, submerged in green duckweed. She managed one grateful breath before Nessie surfaced with her, her hands clawing for Tanya’s face.
Tanya rolled, the sky above flashing past her eyes. A dark shadow swooped overhead, skimming the water. Tanya took another choking breath, brushing duckweed out of her eyes. A whirlwind of leaves had blown up from nowhere and was whipping across the river. She saw Nessie’s hands coming for her again, heard Turpin shouting from somewhere behind her . . . and above that a strange, rasping noise, a familiar cawing sound . . .