The Feral Child by Che Golden Page A

faeries this long because we’ve learned to protect ourselves from them and make sure we don’t cross paths with them too often. Draw the attention of the Tuatha, and nobody is safe. I’m fond of Stephen, but I won’t risk you or your grandmother for him. And his father would say the same, if it were you that was missing.”
    Maddy leaned forward and put her head in her hands. She stretched the skin on her face with her palms while she stared at the floor. She couldn’t believe this. Faeries existed, they had stolen Stephen, and Granda, her strong, sort-anything-out Granda, was just going to sit by the fire and hope the faeries didn’t notice him.
    She got up and walked to the window to watch the rain. It hadn’t stopped since Stephen went missing. It was lighter now, a constant soft rain, as if the leaden sky was weeping. The dark clouds were spreading out from Blarney Castle, stretching long black fingers toward the village. As she watched, the clouds became slightly thicker and blacker and spread their shadow a little farther, but the rain never got any worse. There were no dogs barking, the birds roosted miserablywith their sodden feathers fluffed into balls, while the saplings were bending almost to the ground under the weight of water.
    “Was it like this before, when the others went missing?” she asked.
    “What?”
    “The weather.”
    Granda looked at the window, then he got up and steered her away by the shoulders.
    “No, this is different,” he said, his face grim. “But the Samhain Fesh is almost upon us, when they are at their strongest. It will be over soon, and then we can all get back to normal.”
    “Except for Stephen, of course,” she snapped. She shrugged his hands off her shoulders, furious at his weakness, at how little he seemed to care.
    “Maddy, you have to let this go. It will send you mad otherwise.”
    “No, I won’t! You’re actually just going to leave him? Would you leave me if they took me?”
    His jaw dropped, and she could tell she had scored a point.
    “Of course not! I look after my own, because it’s all I can do,” he shouted. “I thank God it isn’t you, and I look away, like plenty of others have done in this village.”
    “How many times has this happened exactly?” asked Maddy, her voice shaking with shock and anger.“How many other children have you Sighted let go into the mound and done nothing to help?”
    “That’s enough now, Maddy,” he said. “There’s nothing more to talk about.”
    “No, because you should be doing something!” she yelled.
    “WHAT CAN I DO?” Granda shouted back. “Do you want me to go marching into the Garda station and start telling them faerie stories? What do you think will happen then, Maddy? Do you think they’ll say, ‘Oh, right so, now that you’ve told us, we’ll just go and swap the changeling for Stephen and arrest any faeries that come back into Blarney’? They will think I’m mad, Maddy, an old man who’s gone soft in the head. There’s plenty of Sighted sitting in mental hospitals who will never be free again because they tried to tell people about the faeries, and that’s not going to be me. Because what do you think will happen to your granny if the faeries find out I’ve tried to tell people about them? She can’t even see them coming, Maddy. I have to keep my own family safe. There’s nothing I can do for Stephen now.”
    Anger flooded Maddy’s head and pressed against her eyeballs. It turned her breath so hot it scorched her lips as she glared at him. “I’m not going to drop this,” she said.
    “Yes, you are,” said Granda.
    “You need to stick up for your friends,” said Maddy. “You taught me that.”
    Granda looked back at her, his bloodshot eyes wet with unshed tears. “There are some fights, Maddy, you have to walk away from.”
    She shook her head slowly. “No, you’re wrong. If I let Stephen go, that’ll be just as bad as you and everyone else in this village who have