by T C Shelley
‘The child wept for its mother and father, for it would never see them again, and the dog wept for the brothers and sisters of its litter, for it would never see them again.
‘The dog-child did not know what to do and returned to the pool, to look at its new face in the water. It conversed with itself, trying to decide. As it did this it noticed that when the dog led the conversation the creature’s new body became the dog, but when the child wailed and sighed for its parents, the creature’s body resumed a human form.
‘It learned that it could decide its form, even as two voices ran in its head.
‘It went home looking like the child and told its story to the humans.
‘At first the people did not believe, but the child let the dog take form and the people understood.
‘At first, people were suspicious of this union. The hard of heart talked of killing the twin-souled creature, but the children of the tribe loved the dog and could see only play in its eyes. At night, the adults watched the child for signs of deception and each one saw only peace as it slept, a quietness none of them had ever felt after dark.
‘One day, the child told the people that the dog wanted to go home and the people agreed. They had learned the good of dogs and some of the children harboured in their hearts a desire for their own pup.
‘When that first shifter returned to the den of its kind, it did not arrive alone. It took its other soul, and the children of the human tribe.
‘One by one, the children of dogs and the children of humans entwined and became shifters.
‘The twin-souled sleep peaceful at night, their dreams full of play, they walk confident in the day, knowing a friend is always close. Blended by a generous hand, there are none more at peace in this world than the twin-souled.’
‘Well, I’ll be …’ Hoy Poy said. ‘So just a boy and a dog smooshed together? Does it happen a lot? I don’t know if I want to be smooshed with someone.’ He got off Sam’s lap. ‘No offence, Sam. Although I realise the dogs in the park told the truth – there is such a thing as a good boy.’
‘It’s fine, I’m just getting used to being monster, fairy and human. I’m not sure I’d cope with anything extra.’
Amira laughed. ‘I don’t think so, but who knows?’
Just before lunch, four human-looking children and one human baby returned a happy pug to his surprised and grateful mistress, then went into Sam’s house.
Richard sat in the living room, the volume down on the TV. He put a finger to his lips. ‘Michelle’s been asleep three hours. She only meant to lie down for thirty minutes. What good kids you are. I suspect that’s the deepest sleep she’s had in ages.’
‘Let’s go for another walk tomorrow,’ Wilfred said as they left. ‘Please.’ He held up the ball and all three shifters nodded.
‘Well, I hope you’re not going to neglect us next weekend. I thought we were going to have a day out finally,’ Bladder said as the stars arrived over the roof of the Kavanagh house. ‘Can’t go out at night, and now you’re too busy for us during the day.’
Sam apologised.
‘Don’t worry about him, Sam. It’s important you make friends more like yourself, and closer to your age,’ Wheedle said.
Bladder harrumphed. ‘Beatrice is older than Sam.’
‘But Sam is closer to twelve than four hundred,’ Wheedle said, poking Bladder with a hoof. ‘Give it a rest, you grump, you’re making him feel bad.’
Spigot leaned into Sam. The bird stared up at the stars, ignoring the conversation. He put his beak on Sam’s shoulder.
Bladder peered at Sam. ‘Oh, well, I didn’t mean to do that. I just missed you. I thought we could show you The Lanes and the sweet shops.’
‘Next Saturday, hey?’ Wheedle asked.
Sam agreed.
School got better very quickly.
The shifters were in most of his classes. At break and lunch, he walked with them to their bench outside and they all smelt the air. He’d sometimes go through the canteen and wave at Nick, who was happy he’d made friends as bizarre as him. He didn’t have to watch what he said with the shifters, and when he told them things they didn’t nod and ask what he thought it meant. When he described ogres and pixies, they knew he meant ogres and pixies. Words meant what he meant them to mean.
He’d even been able to swap bits of his lunch, although he drew the line at Wilfred’s Puppy Treats. He didn’t like the smell of those.
CHAPTER 7
On Friday night, Wheedle tapped on the window. He was not alone; Bladder was on the other side of the ledge and Spigot stared sadly into the night sky.
‘Misses the little birdy,’ Bladder said. ‘What’s ’er face? Yonah.’
‘I’m sorry, Spigot. I’m sure she’ll be back when Daniel returns,’ Sam said.
The eagle sighed.
Wheedle shuffled against the bricking. ‘You did say we got you tomorrow. You did, didn’t you?’
‘Definitely,’ Sam said.
The gargoyles grinned.
Wheedle continued. ‘So, anyway, we’re off now to get to The Lanes. Don’t wanna get caught on our way there, but you’ll meet us at in Brighton Square in the morning? D’you know where it is?’
‘I can google it,’ Sam said.
‘Ooh, could ya? Can we see what that is?’ Wheedle asked.
Sam let the gargoyles into the bedroom and he showed them the phone Michelle had given him. They were very impressed when he found the map.
The gargoyles left a little later. They climbed down the wall to the footpath.
Sam watched them disappear down his street, chatting and carefree. Each one happy.
Sam was excited to be free to see his pack in Brighton Town. He even used a bus by himself and thanked the driver profusely, showing his bus pass until the man said, ‘Just get on, will ya?’
The traffic dragged along the packed street. He remembered those first few days living on the cathedral; the world had grown so big since then. He knew how to use public transport, he could dress himself, even when it involved buttons and shoelaces, he’d gained family and friends without losing his pack. Could life be any better? The sun shone, the sky was the colour of Michelle’s eyes, and he wandered around without having to explain anything to Children’s Services. He could see the gargoyles every day, without them having to break and enter (the gargoyles had set off the alarm twice at the children’s centre. Bladder had broken a CCTV to stop from being videoed).
That world was three weeks ago, and already it was fading into a distant past. He’d never been allowed out to have an outing with the gargoyles while in the service, and this was another new and wonderful freedom that came with being with the Kavanaghs.
His stomach lifted when he saw his stop.
Sam got off along North Street near the first narrow corridor of The Lanes, a ‘twitten’, Michelle called it. His phone showed the way to the square and peering at the map on the screen he almost missed the sweet shop. Its smell caught him and he had a wonderful thought and felt for the pocket money Michelle had given him.
Inside the shop, the shelves displayed all sorts of sugary wonder. He didn’t have to beg, wasn’t expected to steal, and he enjoyed the experience of choosing something he thought his pack would want. He smiled at the girl behind the counter, who repaid him with a sweet grin reminding him of May, the girl from his first sweet shop. She put a dozen sugar mice inside a paper bag, and he bulged it into his pocket. He hoped it might make up for not spending the previous weekend with the gargoyles, then he stepped out into the captured heat of The Lanes.
Old shops tight-lined the corridors. Small squares of dark-framed glass peered at him, some clear but many with the misshapen blur of melting glass. They barely allowed light in, and did not welcome the prying gaze of an imp child wondering what secret human business went on inside.
He trotted until he came to where the sea breeze from Brighton Beach cleared out the warm stifle. It was a good day, sunny but cool.
He wondered if moods controlled the weather. Everyone seemed happy.
Gaggles of chatting teenagers pushed by him in the direction of Churchill Square and he found himself in a small quadrangle which was the central hub of The Lanes. In the bright morning light, people wandered in couples and triples, throwing pennies into a fountain overlooked by a statue of a boy and a girl riding two dolphins. People dived into the coffee shops and restaurants and used the square as a thoroughfare to other places. Sam looked in the windows; there was no specific pattern to the things you could buy, except small, everything had to be small. There were ice creams and jackets, bed linen and toys.
Two benched pigeons with grey feathers and greyer faces gaped in his direction; seeing just another boy, their gazes slid over him as they flew away.
Outside the cafe, Bladder, Wheedle and Spigot posed with silly faces. Stony still.
‘I love these,’ a girl said to her friend. ‘I see them all over The Lanes. Someone must move them and reposition them. They can’t be stone. What do you think they’re made of?’
‘Sighs,’ Sam said.
She studied Sam. ‘Why would it have anything to do with their size?’
‘Not a lot of regret in them,’ Sam replied.
‘Sounds artistic. Do you know who made them?’
‘No, sorry, I don’t, but whoever it was must have been very kind.’
The girl nodded. ‘I think you’re right. They do make everyone happy. Anyway, really clever, whoever made them.’ She and her friend walked on, and for a minute the square was clear.
‘Told you, if anyone looks at us in The Lanes, it’s just to admire our handsome faces,’ Bladder said.
‘Yeah, though trying it in the park didn’t work out so well,’ Wheedle added.
Spigot gave a gleeful shriek.
‘Let’s get up there. You should see the view,’ Bladder said.
The four of them slid around the corner, checked no one was looking and scaled the wall, pulling themselves up on to the top of a flat overlooking a pretty rooftop restaurant and the cafe they’d just been sitting near. A brisk Channel wind tickled Sam’s face. It felt so nice to be in an open breeze; the warm square had nothing on clean sea air.
‘I brought you something. Three each.’ Sam pulled out the deformed paper bag and shook open the top, showing the sugar mice to his rocky family.
Spigot pecked at one and held it in his beak. ‘Kark!’ he said.
‘An attempt at bribery?’ Bladder asked, and laughed.
Wheedle seized a mouse, popped it straight in his mouth. ‘That’ll make Spigot feel like a real eagle,’ he said as he sucked. (It came out ‘rike a rear igor’, but Sam understood.)
‘Next time I’ll get green liquorice grass so you can feel cowish.’
‘I’m fine,’ Wheedle replied through sugary sucks. ‘Besides, I don’t want to have to think about what you’d have to bring to make him feel more …’ Wheedle nodded at Bladder, who opened his mouth and hissed like a strangled pussycat.
‘Cherry liqueurs for me,’ the lion-faced monstrosity said as bits of sugar flaked between his fangs.
Sam stood up to see the pier. He liked the sweets but his imp nose could make out the tangy aroma of vinegar and oil on hot chips. The sign for his favourite chippy was easily readable. Another sharp wind hit him. He shivered. He had noticed the nights getting colder lately; he hoped it didn’t last long.
‘So, you got here?’ Bladder asked.
‘Yes, by bus. I’m learning all the ways humans do things. I’m learning so much. Even at school.’
‘They teach stuff at school?’ Wheedle said.
Sam chuckled. With all the talk of new friendships, they’d never had a conversation about why he went to school in the first place.
Bladder leaned forward, taking nips of his sugar mouse. ‘Yeah, go on.’
‘I’ve learned about war.’
‘Good grief,’ Bladder said. ‘Do they teach anything useful?’
‘They teach us about numbers in Mathematics. Also, we read a lot of stories in English. Who knew stories could be so wonderful? I learned about force in Science, velocity and mass – it’s about how if you throw something heavy it has more power behind it.’
‘I could have told you that,’ Bladder said.
‘Tell us everything,’ Wheedle said.
Sam explained his lessons in detail and described the teachers and their methods to a giggling audience; he drew diagrams in the air. He promised to let them have a look at his books when they got home.
They all sun-baked on the roof and enjoyed the daylight. When they got bored with that, Wheedle asked, ‘Wanna do a tour of The Lanes, then?’
Before Sam could answer, Bladder sat up. ‘What’s that?’ His voice had dropped and the good humour had gone.
Spigot sneezed, then Sam smelt it too. He sneezed as well.
‘That’s fairy dust,’ Bladder said. ‘Back up, Sam.’
‘Can you see her?’ Wheedle asked.
Sam knew who her meant. If they could smell fairy dust, it only meant one her: Maggie.
He squinted and looked between the words on the shop window – Collars and Crufts – and saw a dazed-seeming man behind the counter talking to a big man whose back was to Sam. ‘No, just two men in the shop.’
‘That ain’t her,’ Wheedle said.
They all peered down. The big man stepped out of the shop wearing an impossibly heavy coat. He carried two cages out of the door and put them on the pavement in front of the window. He had a wide face and mouth and a flat nose. His eyes were quick and dark, scanning everyone and everything in the square. He stank. The scent of the man was wild and potent, it made Sam want to scream, it made him want to run down there and tear at him. Bladder’s mane fluttered and the stone lion snarled.
‘I want to kill him,’ Bladder said.
Even gentle Wheedle’s face twisted into a scowl, his nostrils flared and a front hoof scraped the tiles.
The man dropped the cages and then turned back to the store. As the door opened, Sam’s attention was caught again. The scent of fairy dust blew out. It didn’t intoxicate him the way it would a normal human, but it did distract him. It was more powerful than before. The humans in the square talked louder and giggled, breathing in the heady powder.
‘Wow, it’s really pongy,’ Wheedle said. ‘How’s he got so much dust?’
‘Don’t know, but I’m pretty sure I should bite him,’ Bladder replied.
‘What’s he doing, do you think?’ Wheedle squinted through the shop window. ‘I can see the man behind the counter, he looks as dust-dazed as they come. There’s a woman in there now. Where’d she come from?’
‘There’s a woman?’ Sam peered too, but the glaze caught so much sunlight he had to move about to see the three shapes. The man behind the counter had a sickly pale face and looked like he wanted to vomit, but the big man who’d been outside and the new woman both had their backs to Sam.
‘It’s Maggie, isn’t it?’ Wheedle asked.
Spigot twittered.
The cages rattled, and Sam’s attention turned to them. Each one held a dog. A larger dog in one, and a lanky pup in the other. Their fur was mostly black, but a beige love heart shape encircled each dog’s eyes and nose.
Sam gasped. ‘Amira?’
The larger dog paced the two steps inside the cage. ‘Help!’ it barked. ‘Someone, please, let us out.’
‘All right, you save the dogs and I’ll bite the man,’ Bladder said, but Wheedle and Spigot pulled the stone lion back from the edge. ‘Let me go. That man wants biting.’
‘Don’t be stupid, Bladder,’ Wheedle said. ‘That’s Maggie down there.’
‘Me? What about him?’ Bladder said as Sam tore down the wall.
Sam slipped to the pavement as Wheedle bellowed, and Bladder’s oofs followed as he tried to climb down too, but Wheedle and Spigot held back the stone lion. Sam darted around the fountain to get closer to the cages, and the smell of panicked
dog hit him. He studied the cages. Each had a slide lock. Up close to the dogs he could smell fairy magic again, deep and strong. Someone had sprinkled a lot of dust on them.
‘Back away, monster!’ the adult dog said.
The pup darted to the front of her cage. ‘Sam?’
‘Amira!’
‘Is this the boy from school?’ The mother dog took a deeper sniff. ‘I see what you mean,’ she said to Amira. ‘My apologies, Sam. Your top tones are very … um …’
‘Don’t worry about that now,’ Amira yapped. ‘Let us out, Sam, before that creep comes back. Before she sprays more of that stuff on us.’
‘Shush, then,’ Sam said. ‘Don’t make them hear you.’
Both dogs stared at him. Quiet.
Sam heard the chipping of gargoyles sneaking down the side of the building.
‘If I get you some clothes, can you go upright?’ Sam had no idea where he’d get clothes from, but he had to do something. ‘No one’s going to let them cage humans. How’d you get in here anyway?’
‘We were at home, and they rang the bell. When Mum opened the door, I saw the man throw something at her. I raced up the stairs, but she came in too and then the smell filled the house,’ Amira said.
‘Fairy dust,’ Sam said.
‘At first, it made me dreamy. She told us both to shift into our dog form and we followed her right into their car. It was awful. I wanted to go. It seemed fun for some reason. Then the man drove us here. The woman said something about setting a trap. They threw that stuff over the man in the pet shop too, and he just gave them these cages.’
‘A trap?’ Sam asked.
Amira’s mother said, ‘I can’t change at all. She threw that fairy-dust stuff over me and I couldn’t focus. My head’s clearer now, but I still can’t shift back. Let us out, Sam. There’s a safe house only a street away. We can get there before they’ve even realised we’re gone.’
Sam looked through the window, the strange man and the black-hooded woman faced away from him. Neither seemed interested in the dogs.
The mother dog barked, ‘Please,’ and brought Sam back to his immediate problem.