Skinned (7 page)

Jacob's sunken black eyes held a faint gleam of amusement. ‘You mean maybe your distrust of me will help you defend yourself against the Grim?'

Callum ignored him. ‘I just . . . I need the most extreme challenge I can get. This is too slow . . . I'm not going to get anywhere at this rate. I need to be able to deal with bigger stuff, sooner.'

Jacob looked at Callum for a minute, as though assessing how serious he was. Then he held out his pale hand to pull Callum up. His dead skin was cold as the frosted stone of the church walls.

‘Both of us at once,' Jacob said.

Callum nodded seriously, and braced himself.

Doom leaped towards Callum's throat with his icy fangs bared; Jacob transformed into the hideous image of himself once again, lashing out ferociously with bloody claws.

‘BACK!' Callum shouted at once, squeezing his eyes shut and waiting for impact.

Stay back
. Callum fixed the thought in his mind – and to his amazement, as he opened his eyes again, he
saw that Jacob and Doom were pushing against a shimmering barrier. They couldn't touch him. Callum felt focused. He was doing it! He was actually –

But it only worked for a moment. As soon as he began to congratulate himself, the barrier collapsed. Doom snarled viciously, his teeth scraping dangerously close to Callum's skin as Jacob tackled him around the waist. Callum slammed to the ground hard.

How was he
still
not getting this? Callum squeezed his eyes closed and let out a fierce cry of frustration that echoed into the gathering night.

‘Get up. We will try it again.' Callum opened his eyes as he heard Jacob's voice. The Born Dead was looming over him with a faint smile.

*

An hour later and darkness had fallen, but the welcoming light was on over the cottage porch. Callum stood for a moment with his hand on the latch, trying to shake off the halting progress of his training session, and bracing himself for more tension
inside the cottage. But when he let himself in, he was amazed at the sight that greeted him.

Gran and Melissa were both sitting at the table, with Gran's old radio-cassette player in front of them. The chime child books and various discarded sheets of paper lay on the floor around. Melissa was grinning broadly, and even Gran had the beginnings of a smile playing on her lips.

‘Try it again –' Gran looked up. ‘– Oh, hello, Callum.'

‘Callum!' Melissa exclaimed. ‘Come and see what I've been learning!' She tucked her wild, curly hair behind her ears, eyes shining with excitement. ‘Watch,' she said, but then hesitated. ‘Actually, can you show me one more time, Mrs Scott?'

‘Frank Sinatra,' Gran commanded her radio, one hand hovering in the air above it.

On cue, a jaunty crooning started up. Gran hadn't touched the radio.

Melissa leaned close to it, bringing both palms above the old radio. ‘OK, here we go.' She took a deep breath. ‘Um . . . Nine Inch Nails!'

The radio instantly changed tunes, and thundering
heavy rock began to blare out of its speaker instead.

‘Louder!' Melissa told it.

The volume increased and the table began to rattle with the noise.

‘Whoa,' Melissa exclaimed as the music became deafening. She narrowed her eyes, and the song swelled to a dramatic close.

Melissa leaned back for a minute looking triumphant. Gran nodded once and gave Melissa a tight smile. ‘That's it.'

Callum was impressed, and not just with the magic. If it wasn't quite hugs all round between Gran and Melissa, it was certainly going better than he'd expected it to.

‘Cool,' Callum said, though he couldn't help feeling a bit subdued. Why was it Melissa could get the hang of things so quickly when he'd been struggling all evening to do something that was supposed to come naturally? He sighed. ‘So it's going well then?'

‘Melissa's a fast learner,' Gran said. She glanced over at Melissa's grinning face. ‘Of course, you have to remember that this isn't too difficult, manipulating
something as simple as this old radio's mechanism . . .'

‘We've been working on a few other things as well,' Melissa told Callum eagerly, oblivious to Gran's cautions. ‘And before you ask, don't worry – I've made a start on reading the chime child books too.'

Callum smiled weakly. Of course she'd managed to fit that in too. He folded his arms and tried not to think about how far he still had to go.

‘How . . . uh, how was your practice?' Gran asked, interrupting his thoughts. ‘Are you sure it's a good idea trying to work on your skills by yourself?'

Callum glanced at Melissa, but she nodded encouragingly.

‘It was fine,' Callum said quickly. ‘A bit of a struggle I guess, but once Melissa and I start going through the books it will get better.'

‘Are you sure you don't want me to help you though, Callum? I could –'

‘Gran, I think it's better if you focus on helping Melissa. It's stuff you know more about. You're not a chime child; I don't think you can help me with this. I'm going to work on it myself,' Callum said, with
what he hoped was an air of finality. He didn't want Gran asking too many questions.

‘Right,' Gran said curtly, though a hint of worry creased her brow. ‘If you say so.'

Callum bristled, though he knew she was right to be sceptical.

‘Anyway, didn't you say you had something on tonight? I thought Melissa and I might have some time for her to start telling me about the chime child books.'

‘Well I'm glad you have my diary in check,' Gran said lightly, but Callum could hear the irritation in her voice. ‘One of my old pupils has an art show on at the village hall.' She started up the narrow staircase, moving deliberately slowly as she made her way to her little bedroom.

Callum exhaled. The tense atmosphere between him and his gran was starting to get to him. It was times like this that he missed his mum more than ever. She always kept the peace, and she always knew exactly what to say to make him feel better. He shook his head and turned to Melissa.

‘That went well,' he said with a wry smile.

‘She'll come round. Anyway, listen, I spoke to Mum and she's fine with me staying for dinner. Obviously I didn't mention the tomes of ancient lore that we'll be studying . . . I may have substituted that for maths.'

Callum laughed. It felt good to be in the warm with a friend after the troublesome evening he had had so far.

‘OK then. How about a bit of pasta?'

‘Sounds good,' Melissa said, though her face fell as Callum stepped over to the kitchen and pulled a can of spaghetti hoops out of the cupboard. After heating it up on the stove, Callum brought two bowls over just as Gran came downstairs and put on her coat. Callum felt a twinge of worry.

‘You'll be careful walking to the village, won't you, Gran?'

She tutted at him, but Callum could tell his gran was pleased that he was concerned.

‘I'll be fine. Don't make a mess,' she said, eyeing Melissa in particular. ‘I'll be back in an hour or so. And for heaven's sake, try not to get into any trouble.'

‘No trouble? Too late,' Callum muttered as Gran closed the door behind her.

He turned to Melissa and couldn't help chuckling at the smattering of spaghetti hoops already spread across the table. ‘Right then, do you want to impart some of your new chime child wisdom, O Teacher?'

Melissa grinned and rolled her eyes. She took a deep breath, then her words tumbled out in an excited rush.

‘Well, these four books I've looked at so far are a pretty good selection of what's there, I think. One of them is like that printed encyclopaedia we had a quick look at before the whole Fetch thing. Callum, it's
ancient
– I think it dates to 1535 or something. Thank goodness it's printed, I'd never be able to read it if it was handwritten. I mean, it makes your eyes cross as it is – really weird letters. And the woodblock pictures, they're
amazing
. You look at the picture and you don't see anything at first, then you start to pick out all these odd details –' She paused to draw another sharp breath. ‘And then you sort of wish you hadn't looked so close, because it's a picture of an old woman chewing on a kid's arm like it's a chicken drumstick,
or something, and then you can't get it out of your head. Wow, I kind of wish I hadn't brought it up while I was eating . . .'

Callum laughed at her description – he couldn't help it.

‘It's not funny!' Melissa protested.

‘No, I know . . . but the way you tell it is.'

Melissa punched him lightly on the arm.

‘Ow! OK, OK, so what are the other books like?' Callum said.

‘They're all handwritten – diaries and journals kept by other chime children – your predecessors, I suppose. One of the diaries is about 150 years old and the handwriting is really beautiful, so I had a good look at that one because it was the easiest to read. It's actually a copy of an earlier diary, but it's not pleasant reading. I don't think any of them are. Terrifying stories about battles with demons – but also some useful notes on their powers and weaknesses, stuff I've never heard of at
all
. Mostly the chime children don't seem to have relied on targeting a demon's weak point to defeat it. They made the most of their own powers and
that's
what won the battle. Callum, it's amazing what chime children seem to be able to do! Like, did you know you can control animals? How cool is that? Hey . . . Callum, are you listening?'

It would be a lot easier to concentrate
, Callum thought,
if my hands weren't so cold
. Despite having been inside for a while, his hands were tingling so hard they actually
hurt
.

Tingling . . .?

Suddenly, Callum's focus was shattered. His brain felt as though it had been pierced by a searing hot knife. He fell backwards out of his chair and on to the floor. His eyes were open, but he saw nothing. Nothing but complete blackness. The utter, darkness of being underground . . .

*

Callum's eyes slowly adjusted to the darkness around him. He was having some sort of vision, but it felt different to any he'd had before. It felt as though he was moving around someone else's dream, and
somehow he instinctively knew that it wasn't happening now, or even any time in the immediate future. It was almost like . . . a premonition. He took a deep breath.

A pair of glowing eyes began to emerge from the blackness. The eyes blinked, causing light to fade in and out of the dark space eerily. Callum could hear a strange clattering, which he realised was coming from the figure with the glowing eyes. Was that noise being made by its teeth? He couldn't make out any more of its features in the gloom, but he jumped as he heard a man's voice somewhere behind him in the darkness, beginning to chant in a language he couldn't understand.

Before Callum's eyes, murky shadows began to emerge from the darkness, illuminated by what he soon realised was a glowing ring on the chanting man's hand. As his voice grew louder, Callum realised that there were other people in the shadows, joining the man in his chants. They were standing in a circle around the figure with the glowing eyes. Then the man with the ring raised his arms aloft and the sound from the group grew faster and more insistent. Callum
could make out the strange creature with the glowing eyes more clearly as the half-light of the man's ring shone brighter.

It was a woman – of sorts.

The chanting group was encircling a blue-skinned, tall, thin . . . hag. Her skin looked ancient and papery, with the unnatural, deathly hue of a cadaver. Her long straggly hair hung around a demonic face punctured by a mouthful of black, pointed teeth. Callum was right – it was those teeth that clattered with a sound like marbles spilling on to a concrete floor. But the most disturbing sight of all was the woman's hands – and her talon-like fingernails. Impossibly long, the claws bent and curled horribly, hanging down at her sides.

Then the woman began to turn, slowly at first, as though she was trying to resist the movement. The five people surrounding her stretched their arms out towards her, their palms held upwards, their chanting reaching a crescendo. The hag began to spin faster and faster and faster, until she became a blur of blue skin and gnarled talons, her clattering teeth creating a deathly din.

Callum gasped. He realised with horror that the hag's own arms were now outstretched – and the claws in her fingers were being pulled
right out of her
. A deafening scream pierced through all the other noise as the twisted talons were ripped from her fingers in a shower of blue-black blood.

Then there was a blast of scorching heat, and the scene began to glow with a terrifying, overwhelming crimson light . . .

With a jolt, Callum came to. He was lying flat on his back in the living room, among the chime child books and bits of paper his gran and Melissa had scattered on the floor. His spaghetti hoops lay in a heap next to him, the bowl upturned.

‘So much for keeping things tidy, eh?' he croaked.

Melissa knelt by him, her face a picture of concern. One of her hands hovered uncertainly in the air above Callum's shoulder, as though she thought it might help to touch him but didn't quite dare.

‘Are you awake?' Melissa said. ‘Are you all right?'

Callum sat up and rubbed his eyes hard, trying
to clear his head. ‘Yeah,' he mumbled. ‘I'm OK.'

‘Was it a vision?'

He drew in a sharp breath and nodded. ‘What exactly did you see?' Melissa pressed. ‘It really knocked you for six – I thought you might have fainted for a second there. I've never seen you react to one like that before.'

‘It was like – it was like being hit over the head with a hot poker,' Callum said. ‘It felt strange, surreal – like it was stronger than any I've had before, reaching further into the future or something.' His words came out in a stutter. ‘I-it was . . . I saw a group of people. Humans, I'm almost certain. But there was one other there who . . . wasn't. The humans, five of them, were all circled around this woman, this
hag
. She had blue skin and claws – her claws were insanely long and sharp. They were doing some kind of ritual, I think.' Callum shook his head, trying to clear the terrifying image from his mind.