picks on rock, the smell of sweat and fear. She’d been down here in the dark for ever, in the cold, surrounded by fear.
As she slept, she scratched at the mark on her wrist.
A pool of darkness seeped from the gap in the boards by Callie’s bed and oozed out across the floor, slow as oil, so black it seemed to suck the last of the dim light from the room. She muttered something and tossed in her sleep, trying to break free of the dream, of the noise of hammers and pickaxes.
The floor was covered now, the bed afloat on an oily pool of something blacker than mere darkness.
Callie woke with a gasp, tangled in the bedclothes. She was blind, nothing but the black dark around her.
Out of the silence came a sound. The sound of hammer on stone. Callie froze, breath held tight.
Crack!
And again,
Crack!
And again.
Impossible. It was the noise from her dream. She must still have been asleep.
The noise was all around her now. All around. Inside the walls of her room, under the floor, in the roof.
She wasn’t asleep.
Callie screamed. She scrabbled for the switch of her bedside lamp.
Light.
The noise stopped.
“Callie, what is it?” The door flew open and her parents hurried into the room, switching on the main light. No one noticed the last fingers of darkness slipping down between the boards again.
“Did you hear it? Did you hear it? What’s happening?” Callie gibbered.
“Hear what, love?” Julia asked, putting an arm round her shaking daughter. “We heard you scream, that’s all.”
“You’ve had a bad dream, that’s all, Callie. You’re okay now,” said David.
“No! I mean, I
was
dreaming, but then I woke up and it was dark, but really, really dark, and then the noise from my dream started up again. You
must
have heard it – hammering in the walls.”
Julia and David listened to Callie’s half-hysterical monologue, and tried to reassure her.
“You only thought you woke up. You were still asleep. The noise in the walls was part of the dream too,” Julia told her.
“No – I was awake. I’m sure of it.”
“Callie, you couldn’t have been. If there had been hammering, we’d have heard it. It’s just your imagination working overtime.”
They must be right. She must have still been asleep.
Chutney Mary chose that moment to saunter in, jump onto the bed, and present Callie with a dead mouse.
“Lovely,” observed Julia.
The cat purred proudly and head-butted Callie, and as though a switch had been flicked, everything seemed normal again.
“I’m okay now,” Callie said. “Sorry I woke you.” She picked the mouse up by its tail and dropped it out of the window.
“Sure?”
Callie nodded. “I’ll read for a bit before I go back to sleep, but I’m fine now, honestly. It was just a really vivid dream.”
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
6. GREY DAY
Callie woke to the sound of shouting. For a few seconds she thought she was dreaming again, then she made out her parents’ voices, arguing about something.
They did argue, sometimes, but she’d never heard them shouting like that. She couldn’t make out the words. Could they be arguing about her? Had her dad found out what she was?
She didn’t want to go downstairs into the middle of it. Just as she was wondering whether she ought to, she heard the front door slam and there was silence. One of them had left for work.
Callie pulled the curtains open, but she wasn’t quite quick enough to see who had gone.
It was a chilly grey morning: east coast weather. The haar had drifted in overnight, but she’d been expecting that, and she knew it wouldn’t be gone until the afternoon. The weather seldom surprised her now; there seemed to be some special new witch-sense she’d acquired that gave her a pretty good idea of what was coming in the next day or so. One useful thing, anyway.
Josh was going to Falkland Palace with his mum, so Callie was at a loose end. She would usually have thought about scrounging lunch at The
As she slept, she scratched at the mark on her wrist.
A pool of darkness seeped from the gap in the boards by Callie’s bed and oozed out across the floor, slow as oil, so black it seemed to suck the last of the dim light from the room. She muttered something and tossed in her sleep, trying to break free of the dream, of the noise of hammers and pickaxes.
The floor was covered now, the bed afloat on an oily pool of something blacker than mere darkness.
Callie woke with a gasp, tangled in the bedclothes. She was blind, nothing but the black dark around her.
Out of the silence came a sound. The sound of hammer on stone. Callie froze, breath held tight.
Crack!
And again,
Crack!
And again.
Impossible. It was the noise from her dream. She must still have been asleep.
The noise was all around her now. All around. Inside the walls of her room, under the floor, in the roof.
She wasn’t asleep.
Callie screamed. She scrabbled for the switch of her bedside lamp.
Light.
The noise stopped.
“Callie, what is it?” The door flew open and her parents hurried into the room, switching on the main light. No one noticed the last fingers of darkness slipping down between the boards again.
“Did you hear it? Did you hear it? What’s happening?” Callie gibbered.
“Hear what, love?” Julia asked, putting an arm round her shaking daughter. “We heard you scream, that’s all.”
“You’ve had a bad dream, that’s all, Callie. You’re okay now,” said David.
“No! I mean, I
was
dreaming, but then I woke up and it was dark, but really, really dark, and then the noise from my dream started up again. You
must
have heard it – hammering in the walls.”
Julia and David listened to Callie’s half-hysterical monologue, and tried to reassure her.
“You only thought you woke up. You were still asleep. The noise in the walls was part of the dream too,” Julia told her.
“No – I was awake. I’m sure of it.”
“Callie, you couldn’t have been. If there had been hammering, we’d have heard it. It’s just your imagination working overtime.”
They must be right. She must have still been asleep.
Chutney Mary chose that moment to saunter in, jump onto the bed, and present Callie with a dead mouse.
“Lovely,” observed Julia.
The cat purred proudly and head-butted Callie, and as though a switch had been flicked, everything seemed normal again.
“I’m okay now,” Callie said. “Sorry I woke you.” She picked the mouse up by its tail and dropped it out of the window.
“Sure?”
Callie nodded. “I’ll read for a bit before I go back to sleep, but I’m fine now, honestly. It was just a really vivid dream.”
“Goodnight then.”
“Goodnight.”
6. GREY DAY
Callie woke to the sound of shouting. For a few seconds she thought she was dreaming again, then she made out her parents’ voices, arguing about something.
They did argue, sometimes, but she’d never heard them shouting like that. She couldn’t make out the words. Could they be arguing about her? Had her dad found out what she was?
She didn’t want to go downstairs into the middle of it. Just as she was wondering whether she ought to, she heard the front door slam and there was silence. One of them had left for work.
Callie pulled the curtains open, but she wasn’t quite quick enough to see who had gone.
It was a chilly grey morning: east coast weather. The haar had drifted in overnight, but she’d been expecting that, and she knew it wouldn’t be gone until the afternoon. The weather seldom surprised her now; there seemed to be some special new witch-sense she’d acquired that gave her a pretty good idea of what was coming in the next day or so. One useful thing, anyway.
Josh was going to Falkland Palace with his mum, so Callie was at a loose end. She would usually have thought about scrounging lunch at The
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