POWER AND FURY

by James Erith

  Twenty-Nine

  An Abuse of Power

  The dreamspinner was astonished to learn a couple of things. First, that it was Cain who knew about the children’s dreams and their gifts. Second, that Archie had no idea about his own gifts; but Cain knew enough about them to exploit him.

  Gaia thought it through, reaching the same conclusion. One of them must have gone to Cain. But dreamspinners were neutral in all things. They did not meddle, and they never had.

  Only four dreamspinner Elders had seen the gift ceremony: Genesis, Asgard, Juno and herself.

  Was Genesis bitter about appearing in front of the boy? No, it didn’t add up.

  What about Asgard? He was the one who had objected to the Gifts of the Garden of Eden being given to children, but he was also the most passionate about giving dreams.

  Or Juno, the quiet one?

  Yes, Gaia thought, maybe it was her. Why? What was her motive?

  Another thought whistled into Gaia’s mind. Cain was a spirit, so what if he had travelled through one of their magholes, or perhaps the maghole of another dreamspinner, to escape Havilah?

  It was the only possible explanation she could think of.

  She searched her vibrations.

  Nothing close by.

  This dreamspinner would have to be caught in the act. But dreamspinners moved so fast through the universes, it was as if they were a multi-dimensional fluid.

  Catching one would not be easy.

  Thirty

  Archie Tells Kemp

  The incredible silence hovering over the room was broken by the bell.

  ‘By my watch,’ Mr Steele said, hitching up his sleeve and twisting his arm as though showing off a priceless treasure, ‘the time is approaching half past nine. After I have dismissed you, you have an extended free period. Please use this for last minute drama rehearsals; like learning your lines, Mr Ford; or practising your clarinet, Miss Buxton; or for recital practice before the programme this afternoon, Mr Anderson.’

  Mr Steele stuck his nose in the air and twitched his moustache. It was a signal that he was going to say something profound. ‘Now, about the weather. There is a rather large cloud brrrewing right above us.’ He rolled the ‘r’ rather dramatically.

  ‘To put your minds at rest, our headmaster has been in touch with the Met Bureau to find out if this might be a cause for concern. I am happy to report that, as far as they know, there are none. This morning and this afternoon, there is a high chance that we may get a little wet; indeed there may even be a possibility of a heavy downpour. But all school activities are scheduled to go on as usual.

  ‘Daisy de Lowe, please remove that lipstick from your desk. Now, remember, class, just in case lightning strikes, what would be the best course of action to take? Anyone? Ah, yes, Alexander?’

  ‘Put up your umbrella, sir.’

  ‘No, you do not, Alexander. And stop laughing. Allen, will you desist from flicking paper balls at Daisy please?’ He glared at the boys, ‘Umbrellas, as you know perfectly well, are for repelling water. I’m talking about lightning strikes.’

  Steele raised his eyebrows in anticipation. ‘Kemp, what would you do?’

  ‘I’d get the hell out of there before I was shrivelled to a crisp.’

  The class laughed.

  ‘Well, it’s better than holding up an umbrella, but where would you go?’

  Little Jimmy Nugent put up his hand.

  ‘Yes, Nugent.’

  ‘I’ve been told that, if you get in a car, the rubber tyres would earth the strike, wouldn’t they, Sir?’

  Mr Steele clasped his hands together. ‘Very good, Nugent, and you’re absolutely correct. Either get indoors, or hop in a car—’

  ‘My granddad,’ Nugent continued, ‘got killed by a bolt of lightning in 1983, while walking his bull terrier called Plank—’

  ‘Did he, Nugent?’ Mr Steele sensed one of Nugent’s stories coming on. ‘How fascinating. Perhaps you might fill me in another time.’

  Steele turned back to the pupils. ‘Now, Class, do your best today and make us all proud. Afterwards, have a safe and relaxing break. You are dismissed.’

  The pupils instantly divided into several small groups. Archie remained in his chair, twiddling his pencil.

  Kemp quietly made his way over. ‘Come on, Archie, it can’t be that bad. You look terrible. I can help if you want... if we’re still friends?’

  Archie shrugged. ‘Sure. Sorry about the outburst. Been a bad morning, that’s all.’

  ‘Sounds terrible—’

  ‘You have no idea,’ Archie replied. ‘Really, if I told you, you would never, ever believe me.’

  ‘Try me.’

  Archie sighed. ‘Nah. You’ll only laugh.’

  ‘Go on. I promise I won’t tell a soul.’

  ‘Look, Kemp, we’ve been there.’

  ‘If you don’t talk to someone, it just gets bottled up. My shrink told me that.’

  Archie fingered his pen. What did he have to lose? ‘You won’t believe me,’ he heard himself say.

  ‘I promise you I won’t judge. I’ll just listen. That’s what friends are for, right?’

  Archie exhaled. ‘Okay,’ he began. ‘If you really want to know, last night I was visited by something that, as far as I could tell, was a ghost.’

  ‘A ghost?’ Kemp coughed. ‘Really?’

  ‘Yes. Really.’ Archie fired back. ‘I told you that you wouldn’t believe me.’

  Kemp eyed him suspiciously and raised his hands. ‘Cool. A ghost... carry on.’

  Archie rubbed his forehead. ‘Well, this ghost promised me stuff if I met up with him.’

  ‘Yeah? What did you say?’

  ‘I think I kind of agreed. I was half asleep. What would you do?’

  ‘I’d probably agree too,’ Kemp said. ‘Was it a nice ghost or a nasty ghost?’

  ‘Bit of both, I think. It was wielding a knife, but at the same time I’m pretty sure it wanted to help.’

  ‘Well that’s all right,’ Kemp said, sounding like an authority on the subject. ‘The ghost had a knife and it didn’t kill you. That’s a start.’

  Archie hadn’t thought of this.

  ‘Any idea where you’re hooking up?’

  ‘That’s the problem,’ Archie replied. ‘I can’t remember. I thought it was a dream, so I agreed to everything and said the first thing that came into my head.’

  ‘What makes you think it wasn’t a dream?’

  Archie pointed at the coat. ‘This.’

  Kemp looked at it. ‘An overcoat! Bleeding heck, Archie.’ Kemp wondered if Archie hadn’t entirely lost his marbles.

  ‘I know,’ Archie said, quickly realising it must sound idiotic, ‘but I swear it’s the same coat the ghost was wearing. I remember those buttons with the snake up a tree.’

  Kemp thrust out his jaw and furrowed his brow. ‘How do you know it isn’t Old Whatsisface’s?’

  ‘Old Man Wood,’ Archie said. ‘His name is “Old Man Wood".’

  ‘Yeah right, chill your boots,’ Kemp said, holding the coat up. ‘I mean it’s pretty big—about his size—are you sure he wasn’t... giving it to you? You know, offloading it before he took it to the charity shop.’

  Archie shook his head. ‘No, definitely not. Old Man Wood only has patched up clothes, certainly not an overcoat like this one. Anyway, there’s more.’

  ‘More?’ Kemp raised his eyebrows. ‘Blimey. I mean, great.’

  Archie turned his head up. ‘Look at these. Cuts from the blade of the knife I was telling you about—’

  ‘From the ghost?’

  Archie nodded.

  Kemp inspected Archie’s face. ‘Nah, I don’t believe you. You could have got those from a bramble or that hare when you ran to school yesterday.’

  Archie shook his head. ‘No, honest to God, look how neat they are. And a ghost definitely visited in the middle of the night.’

  ‘You’re one hundred percent sure?’

  ‘Ye
s.’

  Kemp guffawed. ‘Look, Archie, everyone knows ghosts don’t carry things like knives or hit people.’

  ‘This one did.’

  Kemp struggled to contain his laughter. ‘Don’t get me wrong, Archie, but it doesn’t stack up. Why would a ghost want to harm you?’

  Archie thought for a second. ‘To prove it was real.’ Archie felt in the coat pocket and slowly withdrew the knife, shielding it from prying eyes.

  ‘Here. Look.’

  Kemp’s eyes fell to the gap under the desk where Archie held the knife. He swore under his breath.

  ‘Blimey, Archie, that’s a beauty,’ he said. He could hardly prise his eyes away. ‘So, what did this ghost say?’

  ‘That’s where it gets blurry,’ Archie began. ‘He said he was on a mission to save his mother. He said that she was going to die, and that I had to help protect her at any cost.’

  ‘Epic. He sounds all right to me,’ Kemp said. ‘I’d do anything to protect my mother.’

  Archie realised he’d hit a nerve. ‘Sorry, Kemp. I didn’t mean—’

  ‘Chill, Archie, I know you didn’t mean anything by it.’ Kemp was fully intrigued. ‘Was there anything in it for you?’

  ‘Well, as I said, I think he talked about a partnership of some sort. That’s the part I can’t remember. I would find out at this meeting, I suppose, not that I can go.’ Archie laughed and turned a little red. ‘I think I agreed to meet it bang in the middle of the football match.’

  Kemp chuckled. ‘Blimey. Even with the dead, your planning skills are rubbish.’

  Archie screwed up his face. ‘Somewhere along the line, he went on about power and strength, or something,’ he said, scratching the desk. ‘Maybe it’s in my head from a general lack of sleep?’

  Kemp was intrigued, but also concerned about his friend. If Archie’s story was completely made up, this was nigh on madness. You had to hand it to them, though; these de Lowe kids were damn interesting.

  Archie studied Kemp’s face, and quickly reached a conclusion. ‘You think it’s bollocks, don’t you?’ He put his head in his hands. ‘I’ve been sucked in, haven’t I?’

  Kemp shrugged. ‘Probably your old Old Man Woody friend playing a joke or something—’

  ‘Or I’ve been hallucinating from one of his bitter apples?’ Archie added.

  ‘Yeah,’ Kemp said, as though this would have been perfectly normal. He’d heard about the old man’s curious apple collection. ‘Probably one of those apples. I can’t believe you didn’t see it all along.’ He slapped Archie on the back. ‘You ought to be getting along, don’t want to miss your warm-up.’

  Archie cocked his head and looked at his watch. ‘Rats! Is that the time?’ He gathered his things together. ‘Hey, Kemp, thanks for the chat. Please don’t think I’ve turned into a nutter.’ He slung the bag strap over his shoulder. ‘Promise me you won’t tell anyone about this.’

  ‘You lot are all nutters,’ Kemp said. ‘But you, Archie, are the only one worth your salt.’

  Archie noted that the look in Kemp’s eyes had turned harder. Maybe his thoughts had moved on to his sisters.

  Archie ran to the door. ‘See you later.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Kemp shook his head.

  If it wasn’t strange scientific experiments, or an infatuation with ghosts, or girls being brilliant at games designed for men, then it was some other random thing in the de Lowe family. Extraordinary disorganisation, say, or manic recklessness, or unbelievably old helpers and missing parents.

  Mr Steele reappeared. ‘Time to lock up,’ he said. ‘Please grab your things as the school won’t re-open until after half term. Take everything you need.’

  Chairs scraped against the floor as the remaining students stood up. Kemp slipped into his overcoat and gathered the contents of his desk, dropping them haphazardly into his bag. He tucked in his chair and headed towards the door.

  ‘Kemp,’ Mr Steele called out, ‘haven’t you forgotten something?’

  Kemp looked puzzled.

  ‘Your coat?’

  ‘That? It’s Archie’s,’ he said quickly. ‘But, er, don’t worry, I’m seeing him later. I’ll take it for him.’

  At that moment, he saw the slip of paper covered with Archie’s scrawny handwriting.

  Kemp scanned it for a second, and noticed the underlined location. It must be where he was meeting this so-called ghost.

  He folded it and crammed it into his pocket.

  ‘Jolly good,’ Mr Steele said running his hand over his chin. ‘Have a nice break, Kemp. It’s good to see you’ve decided to watch the game after all. That’s the spirit we like to see in you.’

  Thirty-One

  Storm Glass Shatters

  Archie tore down the corridor, almost colliding with a bevy of girls.

  Daisy stood in the middle of the pack, holding centre stage.

  He reddened. ‘Daisy, shouldn’t we be getting ready?’

  ‘We’ve got plenty of time,’ she said, studying her watch. ‘It’s only just gone ten. At least half an hour before we need to change.’

  Archie blushed even more and shook his wrist. Stupid watch. ‘Yes. Sure. Right.’ It wasn’t going well. Individually the girls were fine, but as a group they scared him to death.

  ‘I’m going to see if I can find Isabella. Want to join me?’ Archie said.

  ‘No. Not really.’

  Archie’s face went purple. ‘Please,’ he squeaked.

  Daisy caught his eye. ‘Okay, Ladies,’ she said, ‘I’m off to do battle with those big, bad, beastly boys, and kick the damn house down.’ They shrieked their approval. ‘Wish me luck.’

  Each of the girls made a big play of kissing her on her cheek, before breaking into a chant.

  ‘GO, GO Daisy de Lowe! GO, GO Daisy de Lowe! GO, GO Daisy de Lowe! Go Daisy! Go Daisy! GO Daisy...’

  Daisy put one hand in the air as she waltzed away, wiggling her hips and fluffing up her wavy blonde hair.

  As the twins turned the corner the chanting changed to the old Queen anthem: ‘A-D-L, A-D-L, A-D-L—SHE WILL, SHE WILL, ROCK YOU!’

  ‘You’re awfully glum-faced, what have you done now?’

  Archie groaned. ‘Oh, Daisy, I think I’ve done something insanely foolish. I told Kemp about my nightmare. I don’t know why I did it. He’ll probably tell everyone, like he usually does.’ Archie caressed his temples with his fingers. ‘It’s social suicide.’

  ‘Yup, it most certainly is,’ Daisy replied as she pinched him playfully on the cheek. ‘When will you ever learn? He’s a moron. You’re best off keeping well away from him.’

  They found Isabella in the physics lab with Sue. They were running over an experiment, their heads buried in calculations while an assortment of rubbery tubes and glass devices lay strewn over the counter.

  Daisy was full of bounce. ‘Ready to go, girls?’ she said.

  Her jollity didn’t really have the same effect on the science students.

  ‘Daisy,’ Isabella said, in her most serious tone. ‘I want you to wear these, in your boots.’

  Daisy looked at her in amazement. ‘On my boobs?’

  ‘Don’t be stupid. In your football boots.’

  She fingered the rubbery, gooey material that Isabella handed to her. ‘What is it?’

  Isabella peeled off her lab glasses. ‘In short, it’s a de-energising unit that we’ve created.’

  ‘A what-erising-unit?’ Daisy said. ‘Why?’

  ‘Just in case, that’s why.’

  ‘I don’t understand.’

  ‘Just do it, will you,’ Isabella demanded. ‘One for each boot.’ She handed her a second one. ‘You too, Archie.’

  Archie studied it. ‘What’s it for?’

  Isabella squealed. ‘In case either of you gets struck by lightning. It might help you not fry, that’s all.’

  Archie stuck the strips to the insoles in his boots. ‘Aren’t you’re taking this a bit far—’

  A huge roll o
f thunder shook the building rattling the windows. They looked at each other.

  Isabella raised her eyebrows. ‘No, we’re not. These could save your life.’

  ‘Where’s your Fitz-storm glass-thing?’ Daisy cut in, her tone serious. ‘I need to see what it’s doing.’

  ‘Next to Isabella’s desk,’ Sue said, wafting a hand.

  Daisy picked the storm glass up before quickly putting it down again. ‘I don’t mean to be rude, science-y nerd folk, but have you analysed this lately?’

  Isabella marched over as though it was a complete waste of time. ‘What?’ she snapped.

  ‘This storm test tube thing,’ Daisy began in an unusually serious voice. ‘Have any of you noticed a) how hot it is, and b) that it’s literally crammed full of crystals moving incredibly fast.’

  Isabella stared at it for a moment or two. ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about, Daisy. Yes, it might be a little warm, but so what? As I told you earlier, I’m not sure how it works.’ She dismissed it with a wave. ‘We’ve moved on.’

  Daisy shrugged. ‘Well, you’re supposed to know what you’re doing but I’d keep an eye on it, if I were you.’ She stretched out the gooey strip. ‘Can I put this in my hair?’

  ‘Please, Daisy,’ Isabella said. ‘It must be on the bottom of your shoe. Attach it to the underside of your boot using the sticky Velcro patch or in the insole.’ Isabella sounded irritated by the intrusion. ‘Now, run and get changed or you’ll be late.’

  Daisy skipped off, singing to herself and punching the air.

  As her footsteps receded down the corridor, Archie picked up the storm glass. Immediately, he put it down again.

  ‘Whoa! It’s boiling, seriously. Try it.’

  ‘I’ve just done that,’ Isabella said.

  Sue put her finger to the glass. ‘OW! Scorching!’ she sucked her fingers. ‘Isabella, look! It’s steaming.’