I waited. The candle flames juddered, though there were no draughts or open windows and the air felt still and heavy. I breathed in the scent of the basil and myrrh, hoping it would somehow help to have the fumes inside my head. Then I did the chant again, a little louder this time. The curtains fluttered and as I came to the end of my words, there was a sudden, violent swoosh as they pulled themselves open. I found myself staring, eyes wide and heart hammering, at my reflection in the night-black glass. The candle nearest to the window went out, leaving a ghostly trail of grey in the air. I whipped my head around as the next one went out. Then the third. And the fourth. I couldn’t see a thing.
I took some deep, long breaths and wiped a moustache of sweat away from my upper lip. Something was happening. My whole body was shaking and I felt like I was standing on the edge of something deep and dark. But I had to keep going. Barney started scratching, frantically, at the bedroom door and his whine turned to a louder growl. For a second, my brain went back to normal: Mum was going to go mad when she saw the paintwork. ‘Shh. Calm down, boy. Sit!’ I hissed at him.
I swallowed. One more time. The magic books were quite big on the rule of three. I stood up, my knees trembling, coughed and started again. I only got partway through the words this time, when the notepaper whisked out of my fingers and into the air. A breeze, out of nowhere and colder than death, whirled its way around the room, tugging at my hair and my limbs, knocking down books, my clock, my lamp, bringing them all crashing to the floor. There was a strong smell of earth and decay. I squeezed my eyes shut and crouched down, covering my head with my hands and yelling, ‘Stop it! Get out of here! Leave Zoe and me alone! Whatever we did to bring you here, we’re sorry! We don’t want you anymore!’
The door burst open with a crash and Barney threw himself into the room, barking and snapping at the air. The window panes rattled, as if someone was trying to force them open. My posters ripped themselves from the walls and a photo in a frame clattered to the floor and smashed into pieces. I threw myself onto the bed and pulled the duvet over me, shaking so hard the bed hammered against the wall. Something heavy landed on top of me and I screamed, before realising it was Barney, trying his best to guard me. His barks were like gunfire, never letting up against the crashing and smashing of my room tearing itself apart.
I don’t know how long it was before things went quiet. I waited, trembling, for a few seconds. Pulling down the edge of the duvet, I peered over it into the carnage that was my bedroom. Was it over? Breathing hard, I clambered across Barney and lowered my trembling legs to the floor. I reached up and snapped on the light, which shone for a beat. Then with a small explosion the bulb popped and the room was dark again – too black to make anything out, though the stench of decay was so thick I could almost touch it. Something small and hard hit me in the face and I yelped, trying to smack it away. And again and yet again –little pebbles, hard as bullets. I threw my hands up to my face, feeling grit on my skin, and doubled over in pain, attacked from all sides by stones and soil, filling my eyes, my hair, my fingers. I flung myself onto the floor, curling up tight in a ball. It was like being on a battlefield. I didn’t know if I could survive. Barney’s howl seared through my whole body as the stones and filth rained down. The thought flashed through my mind that I was going to be buried alive. And then, a mind-splitting crash as the window smashed open, letting in a gust of freezing night air. I stayed in a shivering heap on the floor, listening, chewing my knuckles to stop myself from screaming out loud. But everything had stopped. And there was a strange, empty silence.
I opened my eyes, blinking back my tears and peered around. The whole room smelled like a churchyard and the floor was covered in soil and the smashed remains of my things. But the air was dead and quiet again. The only sound was Barney’s panting. He shuffled over to me and thrust a wet nose into my face. I pushed myself up with my hands. There was the sound of sobbing, turning into a wail. The howling came from me.
24
Starting again
There isn’t much I can tell you about the weeks afterwards, because they’re something of a blur. I remember Mum coming back and finding me, weeping and shivering in my room, with Barney steadfastly by my side. Then there were doctors, sleeping pills, counselling sessions. So many people suggested I’d smashed up my room all by myself that even I started to wonder how much had all been in my own head.
Sandra came to see me and told me I was brave and wonderful, though I couldn’t have felt any less like it. The police put out pictures of Dave alongside those of Kerry. And from time to time, there’d be new reports: someone looking like Dave or Kerry had been spotted, in Southheads, in Fellingstall, or even further away. But they never came to anything. I guess her family never stopped looking for her, though Luke and I never spoke to each other again.
Dad moved back in with Ellie and shortly afterwards he told us that she was going to have a baby. He said it was good news. Something to celebrate, after all the Kerry stuff – and that if I wanted, Barney could come to live with us for good. I packed him into the car: my consolation prize. But also my bodyguard.
In my head, I would talk to Zoe and I would be furious with her for not being around, because she was the only one who would’ve understood how I felt right then. And then I would say sorry. I was only angry with her for leaving me and not replying to any of my letters to The Cloisters, for not letting me know if I’d chased away those cold shadows that followed her around even more than they did with me. It felt like there were big, ice-blasted holes in my life where other people used to be.
In the street, people put their Christmas decorations up. Fairy lights blinked behind windows and on the rooftops, all except one house – Kerry’s. I thought how this would be my first Christmas without Dad here and then I hated myself for being so selfish. After all, this would be the Jones’s first Christmas without Kerry. Funny how days that are meant to be happy just get worse when you’re missing someone. It made me wonder what they were all for.
First week in January, we moved house again. Mum said it wasn’t doing me any good, passing Kerry’s home every day and being so close to where everything happened. She began using the words ‘fresh start’.
And this is it. I give a last salute to Mum and I walk in through the toughened glass doors, out of the rain. I follow the crowds of other kids until I get to a reception desk, and a soft-voiced secretary takes me along to my new classroom. The other kids stare at me as the teacher tells them my name. They know no one starts a new school just after Christmas unless something weird’s happened. I’m just hoping no one links me with the name of Kerry, the girl from the other side of the city who went missing and never came back. The girl I wanted rid of so I could be with Zoe, who I lost in the end after all. Kerry, the girl who isn’t following me around anymore and who will be with me for the rest of my life.
‘Well,’ says the teacher. ‘We have two empty seats, so you have a choice, Anna.’
I scan the classroom. At the back, a girl with rainbow-coloured hair is staring through the window, as if in her head she’s already somewhere out there. I wait for her to turn and notice me, but she doesn’t so much as glance. In the second row, another girl is blushing, adjusting her glasses and throwing me an eager smile. I cross my fingers and say a few words in my head to Zoe.
Then I make a choice.
THE END
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Misper was very loosely based on something that happened to me when I was a child. It was a quite insignificant incident in many ways and I promise it was not as dark as the fictional events in this novel! But it shows that strange and small things can inspire a story.
I’d like to thank Trevor Byrne for editorial input into a very early draft, which transformed it from a story for younger children into one targeted at teen readers. Huge thanks are also due to my agent, James Essinger, for his editorial work and his stubborn faith in the stor
y.
Thanks, always, to Mark, Naomi, Patrick and Mary for their constant love and support. As ever, this book is for them.
Contents
1
Good cop, bad cop
2
Zoe. And Kerry
3
And Jodie
4
Birthday
5
The gig
6
Trouble
7
Sulphur
8
Witchcraft
9
‘Bela Lugosi’s Dead’
10
Curse
11
Blade
12
Parents’ Night
13
Ritual
14
Luke
15
Shadows
16
Demolition
17
Flat 1413
18
Three’s a crowd
19
Caught
20
Halloween
21
The Misper
22
A good heart
23
Chasing shadows
24
Starting again
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
The Misper Page 20