Guy shrugged. ‘I don’t know. Only you can discover that.’
‘So I could do it now?’ I froze and tried to focus my thoughts with a look of intensity, but then quickly stopped, worried that I just looked like I had constipation.
‘No.’ Guy shook his head solemnly. ‘You need a guide. A mentor.’
‘Like your mum?’
He nodded.
‘Will she show me?’
‘No.’ Guy’s eyebrows dipped in deep thought. ‘But I can. There are lots of things to show you. I think you’d be amazed.’
‘Now that I can believe.’ I bit my bottom lip as I considered what to do. ‘So, you need somewhere to hide. You can’t go back to your foster parents because they’ll just send you away again and you don’t want to be caught and put back into care. Mum and Dad won’t let you stay here. Mum’d just call Celia.’
‘You’re the only one who can help me.’
‘So no pressure then?’ Guy didn’t respond to my ironic comment. ‘You could stay here, somehow. Every time my parents come up though, you’d have to hide – I dunno – in the cupboard or under the bed.’
‘When I’m Pica it’s easier to hide. I wouldn’t be here all the time. I need to fly.’ His face revealed his sense of hope at this plan.
‘Can you change at will then? Or does it just suddenly happen?’
‘I choose when to be Pica, and when to be Guy, but it is very tiring for me. Then I need time to get my energy back.’
‘Can you only become a magpie, or can you change into other creatures?’ There were still a million questions I wanted to ask.
‘That’s something I’m working on.’ He let a little smile escape. ‘I think we have the potential for endless transformations, but I might be wrong. Perhaps it depends on your numen, or your strength of character.’
‘So what exactly do you need then?’ I asked him directly. ‘I mean if you stay here then what should I get for you?’
‘Clothes.’
‘You can use mine. Have you got stuff at your foster parents’ house?’
‘Not much,’ he said with a grimace. ‘I don’t really own much.’
‘Anything else?’ I said, amazed that a teenager could survive without a mobile or games console. ‘No toys, books, music, films?’
‘No.’
Life for Guy really was quite simple.
‘I can bring you some food – but only bits, otherwise it’ll be obvious.’
‘I don’t need much food. Just enough to keep my body working properly. I can find most of the food I need.’
Just then I heard the front door.
‘Mum’s home. You need to make yourself scarce.’
Chapter Twenty-three
Before Mum had even taken off her coat, I watched in amazement as Guy suddenly froze, seemed to shimmer, change colour, and shrink rapidly. Then, within seconds, a heap of clothes lay empty on the floor. The trousers twitched a few times before a small, black head popped out from underneath the waistband, then the whole magpie followed, and hopped rapidly across my carpet with a shake of its wings. That was the first time I saw the transformation happen that way; it was miraculous. Pica disappeared under my bed and I kicked the scattered clothes out of sight as Mum jogged up the stairs.
‘Hiya, sweetie. How you feeling today?’
‘Yeah, a bit better, thanks.’
Mum placed her palm over my forehead. ‘You seem fine. Maybe back to school tomorrow. Have you got enough work to be getting on with or shall I phone the school for more?’
‘I’m fine, Mum. Honest.’
Continuing in an unresponsive manner, I impatiently waited for her to leave me alone, so I could interact with Pica. She eventually gave up on me and disappeared downstairs with a tut. I kicked the door firmly shut, then got on all fours, placing one cheek on the carpet so I could peer sideways under my bed.
He took a few steps forward and nodded his head, blinked, and turned his head sideways so that one eye stared at me. He seemed to twitch and his tail wagged up and down like a happy puppy, so I put out my hand and he hopped straight on, up my arm, and onto my back.
‘Stand up, Luke.’ The voice sounded like that of a small child trapped in a metal box.
I slowly got up and he cleverly balanced himself, using his wings and tail as I shifted position to finally stand. He ended up on my shoulder, like a pirate with his parrot. Without thinking, I reached out to stroke his head, but the beak felt hard and powerful as Pica snapped it a few times as if to warn me to keep fingers away. Putting out a flat palm before him, he stepped onto it and I carefully swung him round and down onto the windowsill so I could face him properly.
‘Like a new pet,’ I said without thinking.
‘You don’t own me, Luke.’
‘No, sorry. I was joking.’
Of course, magpies couldn’t smile. I wondered if birds even had a sense of humour, but then remembered that this was something Guy himself struggled with at times.
‘I’m not really sure how Frisky’s going to react when he sees you.’ This new danger had only just occurred to me.
‘Should be fine. Never know with cats.’ Pica opened his beak and the words came out, sometimes closing and sometimes staying open – not like with cartoon birds whose beaks become ‘lip-synched’. Speaking for birds must be like singing – it came from their throats.
‘I’ll try to keep you two apart then, just in case.’ I also wasn’t sure how a zombie cat would respond.
‘Need to go out. Must fly.’ The head kept changing angle with almost robotic, staccato movements. The sunlight streaming in through my window showed off his sleek, black head and some white speckles on his chin. The blue on his back was deep and vibrant and every now and then the green pierced through the darker colours. I noticed just how black the feathers were. Almost like an absence – an opposite of light.
Once I’d opened the window, Pica took to flight and soared over the trees beyond the houses opposite.
How strange my life had now become.
That evening I had a bath and it turned out to be another wonderful experience. I held my nose and slipped right under the warm comfort of its surface. I was only under water for a minute or so before I came gasping back up for air, but in that moment I once again connected with something awe-inspiring.
Water must have the ability to remember, because that’s the only way I can explain my experience. I somehow tapped into the ‘memory’ of water. All in a few seconds I lived the many incarnations of water; flowing streams, meandering rivers, gushing cataracts, expanding ice, voluminous oceans, still lakes and stagnant ponds. I fell miles as a raindrop and evaporated as steam. I rose in giant cloud formations and dropped as ice and snow, fluttering to the ground amongst happy children. I refreshed the dusty fields, brought relief to millions who swallowed me in thirsty gulps. I smashed, drenched, seeped, flooded, and surged in tides that affected the whole planet. I was the centre of life itself – a habitat and a source of fertility. Fecund nature required my soothing touch to make life grow and flourish. No tiny drop must ever go to waste.
Then my lungs burst out for air and those ‘memories’ vanished – but I knew its significance. That fleeting experience had taught me a great deal. I understood.
Chapter Twenty-four
A photo of Guy appeared on the news and front cover of the local paper with the headline ‘Police Puzzle Over Missing Boy.’ The photo was one from a few years ago, which I hardly recognised as him – probably an official photo from one of his many previous schools. He wore a green tie and black blazer. The article remained vague and included an interview with Celia and Ernest. I read it carefully – twice.
“A search is underway for a teenager who has gone missing from his foster home. The police, school, and emergency services were contacted when the fifteen-year-old boy, Guy Tellumo, never returned to his Eastbridge Green home. He was last seen on Thursday by his foster parents, Mr and Mrs Parmenter, who believed he was on his
way to school. When we contacted the school the Headteacher reported that the boy had not attended his lessons on that day, or for some weeks before.
‘He’s a quiet lad,’ Mr Parmenter told us. ‘He didn’t have many friends and tended to keep himself to himself.’
Police suspect that he may have run away, and confirmed that the boy in question had a history of disappearances. The search has begun and the police have released a statement.
My parents quizzed me. Ernest and Celia came to visit, hoping I might know something.
‘Just any little clue – a snippet. You might be able to think of something he said or did that we didn’t know about. Perhaps a place he used to go to?’
I considered telling them about Coney Island, but decided not to in the end, although I’m not completely sure why. Instead I denied all knowledge and refused to admit that I had anything but a parting or fleeting acquaintance with Guy. I must have been convincing because the adults accepted my plea of ignorance.
Things went well for a few days. I brought Guy a little food and drink – just enough to avoid arousing suspicion. A few times I released Pica from my window and took a bus to an agreed point of rendezvous where I could hand him some clothes and a little money. He had to remain disguised or hidden when in human form, and at night he usually tapped on the window when he got too cold and I let him sleep under my bed wrapped in my thickest fleece and wearing my football socks.
Then something went wrong. Guy didn’t appear one night. Initially unworried I was sure he could survive out there using his instincts. I wasn’t his mum for goodness sake – not even his brother. Then I was awoken at about 4.20 a.m. by a familiar tapping sound. The taps were not strong or regular, but were persistent enough to be Pica – perhaps tired after a long flight, or maybe he’d just got lost.
I jumped out of bed, strode towards the window, and, tearing back the curtain, I made out a little forlorn figure behind the misted glass. Condensation ran down in drips as I unhooked the bar and swung the casement open. Pica made a chattering sound rather than use words and at first I wondered if the wrong bird had come in. In the gloomy morning light I peered closely at Pica and could see that something wasn’t right; he seemed to be limping and one blue wing stuck up at a funny angle. His tail didn’t flicker, but pointed down towards the ground, so I gathered him into my hands and instinctively brought him close to the warmth of my chest.
Then something suddenly pressed hard upon my hands and chest as Pica shimmered and expanded rapidly. The weight pushed me backwards and I just avoided hitting my head on the corner of my bed frame. The next thing I knew I was crushed underneath Guy’s naked, sprawled body. He was sweaty and hot, his breathing shallow and uneven. With some effort I wriggled out from under his dead weight, his head thumping pathetically on the floor. With a real struggle, I managed to haul him up onto my bed, where I rolled him under my duvet for him to sleep. I wedged my chest of drawers in front of my door to stop Mum or Dad from just walking in and finding him there. I sat on my chair, watching him breathe and splutter, wondering what to do next.
I must have fallen asleep in the chair, because when Guy’s voice woke me, I came to with a start and felt a crick in my neck, which had been hanging to one side like that of a rag doll. My chin was soggy with saliva.
‘Luke? Are you awake?’
‘Yup.’ I rolled my head round in a big circle, wincing as it clicked, and made loud gristly noises. ‘Ow. You OK now?’ I looked at him properly for the first time. His face was smeared with red and black streaks. ‘What the hell happened to you?’
‘I was attacked.’
‘Oh my God!’ I imagined Guy being mugged in an alleyway and him being too naive to understand why someone would want to hurt him. ‘Who was it? What happened?’
‘It was another male. I didn’t know it was his territory. There weren’t any signs – or I didn’t notice them.’
What signs? Graffiti tags? Then it dawned on me.
‘You mean another magpie?’
Guy nodded, wiping his eyes and scratching at the dried blood on his cheek.
‘I didn’t hear the warning call. Probably too much traffic or noise. I was just inspecting a broken bin bag when he dive-bombed me.’
I pulled a face, trying to imagine the scene.
‘The first dive was to scare me. I tried to show him I was not a threat, but he just screeched and came at me again. Perhaps he thought I meant to take his mate or attack his nest. On the second dive he caught me with his claws on my wing as I attempted to get out of the way. Then he attacked again and again. His beak and claws ripped my flesh. In the end I was forced to defend myself, but then I managed to get away and hide in an open-topped lorry nearby. The other magpie seemed too scared to follow me and the lorry drove off. Because it was warm and safe, I slept and even changed back for a while, just hoping I wouldn’t be found. Luckily, I wasn’t disturbed and I managed to rest for a few hours.’ Guy paused for a moment.
I wondered what would have happened if some burly lorry driver had checked the back of his truck and found a naked, bleeding boy. Or perhaps worse, seen a shivering magpie in the corner. Would he have killed it? My head filled with this horrific image of some ignorant lout stepping on Guy with his size twelve boot, or whacking him viciously with a plank of wood. It was a grizzly thought that I shook away. Here he lay in front of me – alive.
‘When I felt my strength return I changed back into Pica and flew here. It took all my energy.’
‘I didn’t know magpies could be so violent.’
‘Pica’s a crow, you know. Corvidae. Scavengers. And can be predatory when necessary.’
‘Really? What, like a bird of prey?’
‘Well, we’re not as big, but Pica eats young birds as well as insects, snails – that sort of thing.’
‘Yuck.’ The thought of eating creepy crawlies made me gag. ‘I never thought of you, I mean Pica, eating other creatures.’
‘It’s no different to you eating beef, chicken, or fish.’
‘Well, I suppose –’
‘The only difference is you don’t do the killing.’
This made me think of Frisky, so I changed the subject.
‘You need to clean yourself up. You can have a bath once my parents are out. I’ll get a bowl of water for you to wash your face. What about the rest of you?’
I pulled the duvet down to his waist, horrified to see more bloody streaks across his chest and shoulders. The sheets were stained too. I screwed up my eyes, hoping reality would change in those few seconds but my sight was met with the same view again. There was nothing else for it; I’d have to get them washed and dried and back on the bed before Mum returned from work.
The cuts must have been from being pecked and on his back he showed me the tiny scratches from sharp talons, as if needles had been scraped across his flesh. The wounds were sharp and precise, and although they seemed tiny on Guy, they must have been more serious on the much smaller Pica.
‘I’ll find that stupid magpie and wring his neck if you like.’
‘No, don’t be silly.’ Guy put his hand on my arm. ‘It was just following its instinct. That’s what they do. It’s a natural reflex. Animals don’t have a conscience like humans. They just follow their gut feeling. It’s intuition. Impulse. A kind of natural perception that they’re born with and never question. That’s all they have to live by. Humans were like that once but now we’ve forgotten what it’s like because now people don’t live with their numen. It’s a great loss. It means most humans are not being their true selves.’
I became aware of my parents’ alarm. They’d be slowly coming around to consciousness now and I had to be alert. Guy nodded his understanding when I put my finger to my lips. I began to get dressed into my school uniform, even though I had no intention of going in. Dad’s footsteps passed my door on his way downstairs to feed Frisky and make the first cups of tea. Mum knocked on the door on her way to the shower as she always did, but never cam
e in.
‘Hiya. I’m up, thanks,’ I called loudly. I heard her call out, ‘Good morning.’
I had to pull the chest of drawers back away from the door quickly and without too much noise.
Guy had curled up onto his side in a foetal position when Dad returned and knocked on my door. I quickly darted forwards before he could enter, making sure I opened it just wide enough to receive the mug of tea. I needed to block Dad’s view of my bed for obvious reasons, and that I had my school shirt on, half buttoned up, showed him I was getting ready.
‘Oh, good lad. That’s the ticket.’ He turned away as I thanked him for the drink.
Once gone, I put down the tea and shook Guy gently.
‘You need to hide in case Mum and Dad come into the room. You understand? Then once they’ve gone you can relax.’
‘You OK, Luke?’ Mum’s voice startled me. I whipped my head around to see her opening my door. She obviously hadn’t showered, then. ‘Who are you talking to?’
I stepped hurriedly towards her.
‘No-one. It was … the radio.’ I stood directly in front of her, probably too closely, as I had with Dad. ‘I was just turning it off.’
‘Oh, OK. Just checking you’re not going mad or that you didn’t sneak someone in. A girl, for instance?’ She said it in a way which sounded like she’d be relieved if I had done – or was I just being paranoid?
She leaned forward to look over my shoulder. I relented and turned to let her past me. I’d never be able to explain this. The police would get involved; it would create horrible tensions with everyone. I’d have to explain it to everyone at school …
But as I turned to look at Guy, he’d gone. The bed lay empty, except for a tiny lump in the middle, which I could see, but would Mum? I even saw it move slightly.
‘Only being daft, love.’ She tousled my hair, gave me a big smile, and turned to leave. ‘You having toast or cereal this morning?’
I gave my choice and closed the door, before sliding down it and onto the floor. The duvet moved and Pica fell onto the carpet, feathers all bristled and jutting out. He shook himself and began preening slowly and carefully.
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