The Monster Who Wasn't

by T C Shelley

  ‘No ogres. Just pixies.’

  ‘You are such a pain.’ Bladder turned his rump to Sam and moved to guard the door. Sam crawled forward, and Bladder put a paw over his mouth, signalling him to hush, and they both crept outside. Then they stretched on the ledge, flattening their bellies against the dirt to watch the business of malice continuing way down below at the bottom of the Great Cavern.

  The clusters of monsters and imps had grown. Brownies moved faster, if possible. The ogres returned through exits and aimed kicks at the defenceless. A few boggarts waved their arms around, shrieking like apes.

  In the middle of this scene, Thunderguts stood. Tiny as he was from a height, his massive body smothered his throne. He pointed and gestured at pixies and brownies, sending them skidding off on errands.

  Sam watched the sea of mouldy green and stagnant yellow. Even the touches of red and orange reminded him of blood and clay, rather than vivid sunshine.

  ‘Why do you think he wants me?’ Sam asked.

  ‘It would have been better if it was just for dinner, but I don’t think so. You don’t get this busy unless you got plans. An’ he’s not a blockhead.’

  ‘What’s a blockhead?’

  Bladder smirked. ‘What you are. Thick as two short planks, Imp.’ His claw pounded the dust. ‘If you’re stupid enough to want to find this baby, I’m stupid enough to help you. But when we get out, we’re never coming back into this dung hole, not even for Hatching Day. Don’t think we’ll be able to after this. You better take the rest of the tins an’ stuff.’

  ‘Thank you, Bladder.’ Sam reached for him, but the gargoyle slapped his hand away.

  ‘You’re gonna get me smashed. Again.’ Below them, the mass of bodies washed over each other. ‘Come on then. It’ll probably get us killed and I’ll hate you forever,’ Bladder said, but this time he didn’t push Sam’s hand away when the boy stroked the great cat’s mane. ‘You really don’t know anything, do you?’

  Sam stared across the cavern at all the holes, big and small, some leading to whole other caverns and corridors to the world outside. Beatrice was hidden inside one of them. He knew that much.

  CHAPTER 15

  They climbed as high as they could, keeping in the dark of the cavern roof. Few imps had business in the higher regions, so the pair met nothing as they scrambled along. Bladder made Sam rest often, and Sam felt stronger, despite a light-headed giggliness and feeling like every important emotion had been shoved into his feet.

  At last they sat on a ledge overlooking the entrance to the Pixie Cavern. A small waterfall ran from the darkness above the cavern and followed the outer curve of the doorway. Sam chewed a cracker.

  ‘You know pixies don’t trade in crackers or soup,’ Bladder said.

  ‘I have chocolate.’

  ‘You what? And you never told me?’ Bladder glared at him, then chuckled. ‘Yeah, I wouldna told me neither. I can’t believe I said that.’ He climbed downwards. ‘Let’s get on with it.’

  Sam put his face into the trickle of water, rinsing away dirt and lapping until his thirst died. Then he followed Bladder into the cavern entrance, clinging to the ceiling above gangs of sweet-faced pixies clambering over each other and up the walls. Boggarts and brownies mixed with them, and neither Sam nor Bladder wanted to be among the hundreds of swarming creatures.

  Minute coloured globes lined the tunnel, half of which were broken while the other half flickered and fizzed. Sam touched the end of one, and it burnt him.

  ‘Fairy lights,’ Bladder said.

  Sam gulped. ‘Made of fairies?’

  ‘No, good grief, it’s just lights, all right?’

  Soon the corridor narrowed, and the fairy lights spread upwards to cover the ceiling, forcing Sam and Bladder to drop to the floor. They stood out, being twice the height of most. The few leprechauns rambling about only came to Sam’s shoulder. Everything else was knee high. While a couple of brownies studied them, the rest chatted with friends or nibbled on food clenched in tiny fists.

  Sam and Bladder stepped out on to the top of a road, and a small cavern rose overhead.

  Fairy lights encircled the door to each burrow. Greater, whiter lights hung like daggers from the edge of each level. Glittering decorations wrapped lamp posts on the walkway. Their yellow light bulbs had been replaced by cheerful pink globes.

  Small holes covered the contours of the walls, cramming imp dwelling on top of imp dwelling.

  ‘It’s pretty,’ Sam said. Bladder didn’t reply.

  Imps sauntered about. A few sat on a bench near a pond. Plastic water lilies covered the surface of its brackish water. Triangular, plastic trees, shoved hard into the ground, surrounded it. More fairy lights twinkled between their fake leaves.

  Boggarts slid around the edges of the cavern, hugging the shadows.

  Sam and Bladder stopped on the footpath, blocking the route of an annoyed brownie. The imp growled.

  ‘Don’t let them see your fear. Keep it down,’ Bladder said.

  ‘Huh?’ Sam followed Bladder’s gaze to his shaking hands. He steadied them before taking off his backpack and reaching inside for the chocolate. A few small faces turned and stepped closer at the flash of the purple paper, then with sneaking steps and gathering swiftness, pixies and brownies surged around him, piling out from doorways and shadows.

  In moments, Sam couldn’t move.

  Bladder rammed in front of him and tossed his rock-heavy lion’s head. Pixies scattered, leaving them in the centre of a tight circle of imps.

  ‘Come on, get on with the questions,’ Bladder said.

  Sam held up the two hundred grams of purple-papered sweetness and fat. Pixies, brownies and other light-fingered imps gawped at it. Many ‘oohed’ as if he’d performed magic.

  Teeny hands reached high, but Sam held the chocolate above their heads.

  ‘What do you want for it?’ one asked.

  A creature in hessian pants and shirt stared him in the eye and edged closer. ‘What does pigeon want? We can pay in dust.’

  Sam wanted Beatrice, so who would know where she was? He thought about who Maggie had brought into the kitchen? What distinguished any of them? They all wore brown rags. Then he remembered, ‘I’m looking for a pixie wearing a bright blue ribbon.’

  The crowd laughed. Something yelled, ‘I gotta pink-frilled leprechaun in high heels.’

  ‘I know the very pixie you mean. His name is Nutty-Arm,’ said a greedy-faced pixie, appearing from a burrow at the back of the cavern.

  ‘Keep your voice steady,’ Bladder said.

  ‘You taking advice from a gargoyle? That’s not gonna get you in trouble,’ the pixie said.

  A couple of brownies laughed. ‘You tell him, Billygrabber.’

  ‘Scum of the monster world, gargoyles,’ Billygrabber said. ‘What you need with Nutty-Arm?’

  ‘I think he might know who stole a baby from a family. I want to know what happened to her. I need to find her.’

  The word ‘baby’ travelled the crowd. A few gasped. Many burst into tears. Someone cried out ‘ash now’, while more imps retreated to the safety of dark burrows. Other pixies’ faces paled, and they raced towards the exit, throwing longing glances at Sam’s raised hands as they left. The remaining crowd thickened and slithered around him. A hush of voices spread through the crowd: ‘That’s him, he’s the one.’ Frightened pixies watched him from the eaves and wreaths of fairy lights. A few hid behind the artificial trees.

  ‘Leave it, Billygrabber. Not worth your boots if the crone finds out about this.’ A group of pixies pulled at the pixie, dragging it a few paces.

  ‘No, no,’ Sam called after it. ‘What’s the crone got to do with Beatrice? Does she want to eat her?’ Hunger had been on the crone’s face on Hatching Day; maybe she was still hungry. Maybe she’d figured out a way to without the sword knowing.

  A groan lifted from the crowd, and more of the imps scarpered, this time muttering ‘crone’ and ‘baby’ together. Even Bladder
twitched.

  Billygrabber chuckled. ‘Stay there. I’ll get Nutty-Arm for you.’ It dashed off to a cave and returned dragging Nutty-Arm, shoving him in front of Sam.

  Nutty-Arm bowed and smiled so much it made Sam ill. The pixie’s jacket was the colour of mould and the electric-blue ribbon still hung around its neck, a startling colour against sombre clothes. A snaky smile slid across its face.

  ‘Here he is. You’ll give me the chocolate, right?’ Billygrabber said.

  Sam lowered his arm to head height. It was enough – the imp sprang, clutched it and ran away with the sweet treat. A few imps, bolder than most, had waited for this and they squealed and scurried after the chocolate nicker, a few blood-cooling squawks echoing from its direction.

  Sam and Bladder were left alone with Nutty-Arm and fewer than a dozen others. No longer hidden in the crowd, Sam recognised them from the Kavanaghs’ kitchen: the sprite, brownies, other red-headed pixies, the boggart.

  ‘I know you,’ Sam said. He studied the other pixies, the boggart’s bland face, then he turned his attention to the three brownies standing with them. ‘And you. You’re the ones who cleaned the dishes.’ He looked around remembering the kitchen party. ‘I can’t see the dancing goblin anywhere.’

  ‘Don’t you worry about him, m’lord,’ said the tallest of the three.

  ‘He’s ash now, isn’t he? Sam asked.

  The imps’ little faces paled.

  ‘Can’t be helped. Silly mistake. Anyway, the rest of us is here and we is all at your service. I’m Cutpurse, and these are my comrades, Angler and Betty.’ The brownies bowed low.

  ‘I want the baby back,’ Sam said.

  Nutty-Arm tried to grin, but it looked painful.

  ‘You know where Beatrice is, don’t you?’ Sam looked at Bladder. The gargoyle waved its paw in a ‘go on’ motion. ‘Maggie told you not to. She told you she was mine.’

  ‘I know, I know.’ Nutty-Arm winked at him. ‘You’re right, it was wrong. I’m sure I’ll get my botty smacked.’

  A few titters rose from the group.

  ‘Please, just tell me where she is, and let me take her home,’ Sam asked.

  ‘He said “please” to me,’ Nutty-Arm said. Its face pinked in pleasure. ‘Like I was a troll or an ogre.’

  ‘Nutty-Arm ain’t got the baby no more,’ the boggart said. ‘There’s consequences for baby-napping, even if you ent the baby-napper. We ditched it.’

  ‘Shut it, Bogweed!’ Cutpurse smacked it too.

  Bogweed mouthed insults at the back of Cutpurse’s head.

  ‘Can you tell me where she is?’ Sam asked. Bladder growled at Nutty-Arm. The pixie hissed in return.

  ‘Well …’ Angler started. ‘Don’t do no harm to help, and Maggie did say it were his.’

  ‘Don’t do no harm to help?’ Bladder repeated. ‘Imp, pixies ain’t –’

  ‘That’s right, she might still be alive,’ cut in Cutpurse. ‘An’ if she is, maybe sending her back upside means the souls got no beef wivvus.’

  ‘Imp,’ Bladder said. ‘A word, Imp.’

  ‘Shut it, you fossilised dinosaur dropping,’ Angler said.

  Bladder roared. Nutty-Arm’s eyes widened.

  ‘Let’s go, Imp.’

  ‘But they just said they’d take me to Beatrice,’ Sam said.

  Bladder screwed up his face. ‘Maybe they did, but I know I hate this many pixies in one place, an’ I smell lies. Something’s not right here. Pixies ain’t this helpful.’

  ‘But we might be able to get her before something eats her,’ Nutty-Arm said, smiling.

  ‘You’re not usin’ your noggin’, Imp,’ Bladder said to Sam. ‘You ask a few questions of the pixie an’ they act all nice. But these creeps run with a banshee. That makes ’em more dangerous than the normal kind.’

  ‘You’re probably right.’ Sam poked his sore hand. ‘But I’ve got to find Beatrice.’

  Bladder’s voice softened. ‘An’ they ain’t makin’ any demands. Since when have you heard of a pixie not hagglin’? Whatever’s happenin’ here smells off.’ Bladder put a claw to Sam’s chest, then turned away. ‘Let’s just leave.’

  Cutpurse leaped forward. ‘No, no, no, we do want one thing.’

  Bladder turned back. ‘That’s more like it. Gold. Mounds of white chocolate?’

  ‘We’ll show you if you don’t tell no one about this,’ Angler said. ‘If Thunderguts hears we’ve … well, there’s consequences to baby-napping.’

  The pack of pixies and brownies nodded their innocent-looking heads, muttering in agreement.

  ‘An’ maybe if you had any more chocolate …’ Bogweed started.

  Bladder pushed in front. ‘He’s already paying you in silence. An’ I’m not going to hurt Nutty-Arm, no matter how much I’d like to.’

  Cutpurse eyeballed Sam. The face was cheery and round, a friendly face, but his eyes remained cold and stony, as dark as his hair, and light did not reflect in them. Sam wished the brownie would stop staring.

  ‘Could you show me where you took her?’ Sam asked.

  ‘If you’re happy to keep silent about our involvement in the incident, then we are happy to reunite you with your tot, all right?’ Cutpurse said.

  Sam nodded.

  CHAPTER 16

  The imps led the way out of the main tunnel. As they walked back up the slope, Cutpurse clicked his fingers and a brownie ran forward with a pungent, flaming torch. They passed two small goblins, who stared at the group with wide eyes. The pair dashed off into the dark.

  Sam’s group had walked a long way when Angler turned into a side passage. It was so dark it looked like part of the wall and, once inside, the greedy black licked at the torch flames. Sam shuddered. The sparks gave off a dim light, illuminating little ahead. Even the walls were too far away to be seen.

  As they walked, the pixies giggled and Cutpurse often stared back at Sam and Bladder and gave cute waves. Bladder made Sam hang back a safe distance.

  Sam studied the cave roof. ‘How old are you, Bladder?’

  ‘Around eight hundred years or so. Give or take a decade.’

  ‘That’s very old. Will I get that old?’

  ‘Who knows, Imp? I’ve known pixies and brownies last many, many centuries. You’re as pink as they are.’

  ‘What about humans?’

  ‘Nope, they’re weak and sappy creatures and don’t like to let each other live long. Or anything else, for that matter.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Gargoyles live upstairs most of the time, right? We survive humans if we’re careful, but they destroy buildings with big machines. These days at least they pick and choose with their bulldozers, but I remember the Blitz. Wheedle’s only a coupla hundred years old, a bit young and gormless, but the Blitz even made him harder.’

  ‘What’s the Blitz?’

  ‘War. One of the big ones. Humans loved it. They dropped bombs all over London. We didn’t stay at the cathedral then. Daniel moved us down to Brighton, the busybody said it was to keep us safe. But it was too late, we’d seen the destruction. We’d seen what his precious humans was like. Heavy boulders dropping out of the sky. Beautiful buildings, ugly buildings, cathedrals covered with families of gargoyles. All of this done so humans could hurt each other. Death means nothing to them. They’re all the same, Imp. Every single one of ’em. Don’t become them.’ Bladder patted Sam’s arm.

  ‘Families? You said “families of gargoyles”.’

  ‘Did not.’ Bladder shook his head at Sam’s gaze. ‘No, I didn’t! I said “packs”.’

  Sam continued. ‘I don’t think the Kavanaghs are like those humans. They care about each other, and Grandpa Kavanagh’s death meant something. When Beatrice got taken they were …’ He struggled for the word. ‘… devastated.’

  Bladder turned his head away and didn’t answer. Sam reached out a hand to pat Bladder’s ruff. The stone felt warm.

  The tunnel grew snug, and the brownies turned to offer sly s
miles. Bladder sneered at the swaggering imps.

  ‘Not far to go now,’ Betty said.

  ‘Don’t talk to us,’ Bladder replied. ‘Just keep walking.’

  Sam and Bladder halted and Sam pulled his backpack around to rummage. He found the other bar of chocolate, ripped open the wrapper and put three squares in his mouth. The instant energy woke him. Bladder stared up at him, and he dropped two rows into the gargoyle’s mouth.

  ‘Hey, look at that. Cuban heels.’ The gargoyle sniggered.

  Sam looked ahead to see Betty and Angler in the flickering glow; each wore thick-soled boots adding inches to their heights. The cloistered tunnel of dirt muffled the clicking. Sam’s own footsteps were swallowed entirely.

  Cutpurse’s eyes shone in the torch. ‘It’s not long now, is it, Nutty-Arm? A few hundred more paces and we’ll be there.’

  Sam smelt the stink of wet dust and of something long abandoned. He trudged on.

  Angler and Betty slid back to walk beside Sam. ‘Why do you want this one baby so much?’ asked Betty.

  ‘So I can take her home.’

  ‘Don’t tell them that,’ Bladder said.

  The brownies looked at each other. Angler spoke first. ‘I don’t understand. Why’d you need to take her …’ The brownie stumbled over the word. ‘… home? You could play with her here.’

  ‘Because she matters to the Kavanaghs. To her family.’

  Betty frowned. ‘Why’s that matter to you?’

  ‘Because …’ Sam stopped. ‘I want them to be happy.’

  All the imps peered at him and Cutpurse laughed. Even in the barren place his snickers filled the dark.

  ‘Is he addled by his time with them, do you think?’ Cutpurse asked Betty. ‘Humans are awful.’

  ‘I told you not to talk to us,’ Bladder said, then looked to Sam. ‘But he is right.’

  ‘Exactly,’ said Betty.

  ‘Exactly,’ said Angler.

  ‘Who cares what makes them happy?’ Bladder asked.

  ‘They’re nastier than they appear on the surface,’ said Cutpurse. ‘They need to be culled like feral animals.’

  ‘Stop it!’ Sam said. ‘Stop it, all of you.’