The Moon Child

by Cate Cain

  Jem staggered to the right, keeping to the line of the jetty.

  “Here!” Tolly hissed. “We’re here. Two more steps forward and one to the left. Then duck.”

  Jem followed Tolly’s voice and found his friend crouched behind a stack of wicker lobster pots, all of them threaded with wide fronds of stinking seaweed. The pots were piled at the far end of the T-shaped jetty, far enough from the ship for them to remain unnoticed but near enough to see what was happening.

  “Stash it there on top of my one.” Tolly helped Jem shrug the sack from his shoulders. “There, if we balance it like this, it means we can’t be seen easily from the land side either.”

  The boys knelt together, scanning the busy scene from their hiding place. Cleo squeezed in between them and wrinkled her nose – at the stench of the seaweed, Jem guessed. Crewmen moved up and down the Fortuna’s rattling gangplank. They looked like worker ants, each one bent double under a sack or a trunk. Meanwhile, bulky items swayed up and out from the hold, dangling precariously over the ship before being lowered to the jetty.

  Captain Trevanion stood on the far side of the jetty with Goodman Winterbourne and a group of other Port Melas men – the councillors, Jem supposed. One of them had a sheet of paper and a quill pen, and as each bundle bumped ashore he made a mark on the sheet. Madame de Chouette was paying them handsomely for their welcome.

  Jem looked up at the Fortuna. Her bulging black side loomed above the simple jetty of Port Melas, casting a giant shadow. As the ship rocked gently in the calm waters of the bay she looked like a sea monster, a leviathan, waiting to engulf the little settlement. No wonder Goodman Winterbourne and his council had been wary of granting them safe harbour.

  In the sharp light of day he could now see odd carvings running across the Fortuna’s timbers, from the prow to the stern. Tiny figures fleeing from coiling serpents, misshapen creatures with an impossible number of limbs, twisted insect-like forms with ragged wings. Jem blinked as a memory stirred – he had seen something like it before.

  He glanced up at the figurehead – the red-haired woman with the star in her hair.

  “Tolly, look!” He nudged his friend. “Up there.”

  “Where?”

  “The figurehead. It’s different.” Jem stared again. The painted woman’s eyes were fully open now and her mouth yawned wide in a smile that revealed rows and rows of serrated teeth.

  “Is it? I never got a clear view, but looking at it now, I’m glad.”

  A commotion on the jetty took their attention. Jem peered round the edge of the wicker pots and saw a flash of brilliant green in the midst of the crowd at the foot of the gangway. As Madame de Chouette stalked along the jetty the wind caught at her cloak, blowing it apart so that the emerald silk lining showed clearly. People stood aside to let the hooded figure pass. She clasped the red-haired boy who was really Ann tightly to her side. Anyone who didn’t know better would see a sickly youth supported by his loving aunt.

  “Look! There’s Ann. How can we get her away?” Jem clenched his fists so tightly that his knuckles hurt.

  At the same moment a familiar oblong package was winched from the hold. The mirror.

  Three crewmen stood ready on the jetty to guide it down into place. As it bumped onto the wood, there was a sharp crack. Madame de Chouette spun round, her single golden eye wide. There came a tinkling, splintering noise as every tiny fragment of mirror glass still set into the frame crumbled from its place. Some of it fell to the jetty where it glittered in the sunlight, some fell inside the torn grey oilskin wrapping.

  “No!” It was almost a cry of pain. Madame de Chouette released Ann and swept back along the jetty to the mirror.

  “Which of you has done this?” She threw back the hood of her cloak and turned her pointed white face from side to side, scanning the crewmen and the Port Melas folk. Her jewelled eye-patch glinted and Jem noticed that several of the folk formed the sign against the evil eye with their fingers.

  “Captain! Where are you?”

  All eyes turned towards Trevanion. She swirled round and began to advance towards him. “I thought my instructions were clear. The one thing I most specifically warned you to take great care of has been destroyed. You will pay dearly for this.”

  Madame de Chouette seemed to have forgotten her “nephew”. Fabien stood alone on the jetty staring blankly at his feet. Except for his tufts of short red hair quivering in the wind, he was as motionless as a statue.

  It was the chance Jem had been waiting for. “Now, Tolly! While Madame’s attention is on the captain.”

  Grabbing the staff, he exploded from behind the lobster pots and pelted down the jetty. He heard the beat of Tolly’s feet on the planks just behind him.

  “I hope you’re right about this,” came his friend’s breathless voice.

  Ann was just yards away. Jem wasn’t sure what he was going to do exactly, but if he could reach out …

  “Stop!”

  The single word filled Jem’s ears and made his head ring. The air around him thickened like porridge. He tried to catch Ann’s hand, but it was like pushing through wool. He balled his fist to punch a way to her but it was hard to move his fingers.

  Madame de Chouette’s voice came again. “You will obey. Look at me.”

  He tried to force himself not to turn back, but it was impossible. The movement wrenched every muscle in his neck. As he twisted round he caught sight of Tolly’s desperate face and then, outlined against the black hull of the Fortuna, Madame de Chouette.

  Slowly she extended her arms. Brilliant green silk cascaded around her as the lining of her cloak spread wide. Then she smiled. “Did you really imagine it would be so easy to save your friend?”

  Jem tried to run but he was rooted to the spot. He couldn’t even close his eyes. Her outline wavered in the sunlight. At first it was as if a great green wave was rolling along the jetty to engulf them and then his vision blurred, leaching all the colours away. Madame de Chouette was now black as night, her cloak held apart like the wings of a massive bird. The folds of fabric billowed around her, rippling and rearranging themselves into jagged rows of sheeny black feathers.

  Then slowly the woman’s face hollowed and lengthened. Something hard and skeletal spread across her face – a mask of sharpened ochre bone erupting through the skin to replace her brows, her nose and her lips. The black pupil of her rounded amber eye was like a bottomless pit. She took a single step forward and Jem heard something tear: the bronze talons at the tips of her blackened claws ripping through the fabric hem of her dress.

  She rolled her head, flexed her claws and gathered her wings into two sharp points that rose behind her back. Then she lowered her head.

  Every atom of Jem’s body screamed at him to run, but he couldn’t move a muscle – even though he knew the owl was ready to hunt.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

  Aroooo!

  The long eerie howl echoing around the bay made the air shudder.

  Then the wolf landed low with a mighty thump on the jetty planks in front of the hideous feathered creature. The muscles of its massive grey flanks flexed as it gathered itself. It was huge – bigger than any dog Jem had ever seen.

  The wolf turned its ice-blue eyes on Jem and Tolly. It wrinkled its muzzle, snarled and then threw back its head and howled again. Jem’s heart pounded like a hammer, and he could hear his breath come shallow and fast, like a cornered fox. There was silence for a long moment and then from every direction, answers came. It sounded as if a hundred wolves chorused in unison, their doleful cries rising and falling on the wind. The owl creature blinked once and jerked its head to one side.

  Without taking its eyes from the boys, the wolf rolled its head and a new wave of terror rose through Jem’s body as its black scimitar claws scraped against the jetty. It was if the animal was testing them. The staff in Jem’s right hand would be useless against such raw, muscular power.

  It was the end, Jem knew it. Between them, the wol
f and the owl would rip both him and Tolly apart. The wolf, narrowed its eyes and crouched, ready to spring.

  Jem found himself thinking of his mother, of Goldings, of Gabriel, of little Simeon, of Master Jalbert, of the king, of Ann, of Tolly, of Cleo. Every person and everything he had ever cared about crowded into his thoughts. A corner of his mind registered the fact that it was true what people said. When you were about to die, your life did flash in front of you.

  With an ear-splitting howl, the wolf leaped … twisting in mid-air to fall upon the owl woman. There was a shrill screech of terror and then the creatures tore viciously at each other, their forms blurring to a heaving, tumbling mass of black and grey and red.

  Growling and screeching, they slammed against the jetty planks, first one gaining advantage and then the other. Jem watched in amazement as the shrieking combatants melded into a rolling ball of fury.

  The folk gathered on the jetty began to run, most of them covering their ears to block the terrifying sounds. A man almost knocked Jem into the water. Jem tried to turn and run too, but his legs were like lead weights. Another man caught him roughly by the shoulder.

  “What have you brought to us on that Devil ship?” The man didn’t wait for an answer, but raced on past, the sound of his heavy boots drumming on the timbers.

  “Seal all the doors! Women and children to the meeting house. ’Tis witchcraft!”

  Jem heard the tolling of a single bell. He tried to turn to look back at Port Melas, but it was impossible. Horribly, his eyes were locked on the battle. The wolf lashed out with a huge paw, swiping the feathered creature aside in a blizzard of blood and black feathers. Madame de Chouette crashed against the side of the ship with a sickening snap, then fell back onto the edge of the jetty in a broken, twitching heap. Now the wolf had control. It stood over its opponent and pinned the misshapen wings to the timbers with its paws. Jem watched the owl’s bony, mask-like head straining upward to tear at wolf’s muzzle – held out of reach.

  To the left of his eyeline he caught a glimpse of movement – a blur of black and white. He just managed to drag his eyes to follow the little form of Cleo as she scampered past. Surely she would never abandon Tolly – where was she going? He glanced up and saw that Tolly, frozen to the spot just a few yards away, was watching her intently. Tolly’s eyes widened and then Jem heard his friend speaking into his mind. “Behind you!”

  Something caught his hand. Small fingers worked their way into his. He tried to turn but he was still locked, unable to budge. He heard a familiar voice.

  “Hold on.”

  The hand tightened its grip. Jem felt heat rise up through his arm and flood his body. He fastened his own fingers about the hand. Something white flashed to the right. He turned his head, slowly at first, realising with a jolt of relief that he could move again. He heard Cleo chirrup as someone stepped forward.

  Strands of pale waist-length hair flew about in the wind as the girl stretched out to take Tolly’s hand in her own.

  “Ann!”

  As the three of them stood linked together, Jem was aware of a thrumming sound. A single, trembling note, like the fading echo that lingers after musicians have laid down their instruments. His head was suddenly filled with lights and colours – little explosions of brilliance. For a split second he felt as if the three of them were at the very centre of everything – that this point, here on the jetty at Port Melas, was the most important and powerful place in the world.

  Ann turned to look up at him. Her face was haggard, with shadowed pouches beneath her green eyes. Her small, slender frame was lost in Fabien’s clothes.

  “Can you move now, Jem?”

  He nodded. “But how …?”

  She turned to Tolly. “And you?”

  An anguished howl of pain split the air and, despite themselves, they all looked back. The unearthly creatures were nearing the end of their brutal struggle. The wolf flattened itself to the jetty as it tried to dislodge the owl woman from its neck, its muscular sides shuddering as it fought to breathe. Vast broken wings unfurled, shielding the struggling wolf from view.

  Madame de Chouette opened her curved beak and let out a harsh cry of triumph. She paused for a moment, jerking her massive head from side to side.

  Ann dropped their hands. “Now run, run! Before it is too late. Whatever you do, don’t look back.” She whirled about and started up the jetty towards the settlement, struggling to move at speed in Fabien’s bulky jerkin and wrinkled breeches. Without question Jem and Tolly followed, Cleo darting between their legs. Ann shrugged off the jerkin and pelted forwards, springing from the end of the jetty and onto the frosted mud of the track. She paused to give Jem, Tolly and Cleo the chance to catch her.

  “Where now?” Jem gasped out the words. The muddy pathways of Port Melas were deserted. Every window and every door was barred to them.

  One last long, terrible howl split the air.

  From somewhere behind there was a thunderous explosion. A bolt of lightning threw the world into sharp relief – every house, every tree, every stone was revealed in a moment of dazzling clarity. The booming came again and they ducked.

  “Don’t look back!” Ann repeated the words over the deafening bellow of splitting, groaning timbers, then came a sucking, wailing sound that blocked their ears. As the ground rocked beneath their feet, she reached for their hands again. “Don’t!”

  It was as if day became night. Something brushed Jem’s face and he looked up. Fine snow was beginning to fall, mixed with black feathers and spots of blood. As the flakes began to settle on the land, the red droplets gleamed like the ruby of Madame de Chouette’s ring. There were shouts and screams from somewhere behind.

  Jem fought the urge to turn back and felt Ann’s grip tighten. “You mustn’t, believe me.”

  He swallowed hard and repeated his question. “Where now?”

  Tolly reached down to gather Cleo into his arms. “There’s only one road out from Port Melas and it’s straight ahead. We don’t have any other option. Run!”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN

  The track disappeared beneath the snow, but they still ran on, pushing through bracken, scrambling over rocks, slipping and sliding – all the time pressing deeper and deeper into the silence of the soaring fir trees. When the ground began to rise beneath their feet they used jutting rocks and rotting stumps to haul themselves upward. Stones and thorns tore at their flesh, but nothing stopped them. If they paused it was to draw breath; if they spoke it was to decide which way to go. Fabien’s undershirt hung loosely on Ann’s narrow shoulders. When Jem saw her trembling he took off his cloak, wrapped it round her and tucked her red shawl about her neck like a scarf.

  The trio were driven by one unspoken thought: the most important thing in all the world was to get as far away from the Fortuna – and from Madame – as it was possible to be, and then to keep on running.

  It was only when they came to a narrow outcrop high above the forest that they halted. It was dusk. The snow had petered out some time ago and the clouds were clearing in the east. A sliver of moon hung low in the purple sky.

  “We’ve been climbing for hours,” said Tolly, panting. “We can’t go any further in the dark and we must be a long way from Port Melas now.”

  Jem thrust his hands under his armpits and stamped his feet. He might not have special powers like his friends, he thought, but at least he was practical.

  “You’re right,” he said. “It’ll be pitch black under the trees soon. We won’t be able to see a thing, but all the same …” He frowned. If Madame de Chouette had won the battle with the wolf, she would be on their trail, he was certain of it. Half of him wanted to keep going, but the other half said they should take cover and wait for daylight.

  “We can take shelter here.” Ann’s voice echoed from the rocky wall at their back. “Look – there’s an opening. It goes back quite a long way, I think. If we could build a fire just inside no one would see the light. We should be safe here – at l
east overnight. Then we can get going again at first light. We all need some rest – although first we need to talk.”

  “I can’t begin to imagine how it made you feel. The darkness, the memories …” Ann reached across to take Tolly’s hand. “And this too …” She brushed the tips of her fingers over the twisted stump of his thumb and shook her head. She frowned at Cazalon’s staff propped against the wall and turned to Jem. “That thing is evil, but I can’t help thinking it’s important too. It’s why I never destroyed it.” She put a hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what would have happened if you two hadn’t come after me. Thank you.”

  Jem poked another stick into the glowing heart of the little fire Ann had made from nothing. “That … woman, Madame de Chouette, do you know who she is?” He pushed away the awful thought that she could be tracking them down right at this moment. They were safe in the cave, weren’t they?

  Ann pulled her thick white hair back from her face and knotted it at the nape of her neck.

  “I know what she is – a witch and a dark one.” Her wide green eyes sparked, then she sighed, looked down at the floor of the cave and traced patterns in the dust with a finger. “But that’s all. I wish I could tell you more. The last thing I remember clearly is Cleo finding the bean in the Twelfth Night cake. There was dancing and laughter. I watched you both and felt so happy. And then the door opened and darkness came in …” She shivered and stared into the flames. “After that, everything gets so confused.” Lines of concentration furrowed her brow. “There … there was a meal. Tolly, you were opposite me at a long table? Something happened …”

  “That’s right,” said Jem. “She forced us both to dine with her, Cleo as well. It was disgusting. If it wasn’t for Tolly, we would have been part of the meal too!”

  “When was that?” Ann’s voice was a whisper.

  “On the Fortuna – not three days ago.”