by Jen Storer
‘Such a relief,’ said Ava, shaking out her dreadlocks. ‘Hats are the most ugly inventions. I would never choose to wear one if I didn’t have to.’
Angus flicked off his hood.
Graini knelt by the fire and took two white stones from her knapsack. With a series of rapid ‘click clacks’, she banged them together and made a flame. The firewood was dry. It flared eagerly. Ava added pine cones and an extra log.
Once the fire was underway, the goblin girls spread their beach towels around it and sat down.
Martha sat on the car seat, wrapped snugly in the Donut Lady’s cardigan. Angus sat on the ground beside her, warming his hands by the fire. The cave floor was gritty and cold. He drew his knees to his chest and shifted uncomfortably.
Martha rubbed her head.
‘Are you okay?’ whispered Angus.
‘I’m fine,’ said Martha. ‘I haven’t even got a bump. Nothing.’
‘The Singing Stones are most efficient healing tools,’ said Ava.
‘And you are our most efficient healer,’ said Graini quietly. ‘Thank you, Ava.’
‘Yeah, thanks, Ava,’ said Martha.
Even in the shadows of the cave, Angus could see Ava’s cheeks flush.
‘Anyone want a donut?’ He drew the bag out of his pocket. ‘They’re cold but they’re still good.’
Martha took two but the goblin girls shook their heads.
‘We cannot eat such comestibles,’ said Ava. ‘We cannot assimilate these foodstuffs. Sugar would addict us and drive us mad — like Reafen.’
‘Hey, yeah. I bet that’s why she stole the Donut Lady’s batter and stuff,’ said Angus. ‘Reafen wanted to be sure she had a hot, sugary donut hit any time, day or night.’
They all laughed but with little merriment.
‘We have some delicious gim,’ said Ava eagerly. ‘And dried snow chrysanthemums. We would be happy to share.’
‘Gim?’ said Martha. ‘Chrysanthemums?’
‘Seaweed,’ said Angus. ‘And flowers.’
‘No thanks,’ squeaked Martha.
They sat quietly for a time, eating their snacks, listening to the wind circle the cave. Below they could hear the sea breaking over the rocks. Angus checked the time. Again.
‘We’re glad you got away,’ said Martha finally. ‘We’re glad Lynch didn’t hurt you ...’
‘You left us for dead,’ said Graini.
‘Sorry,’ said Martha guiltily.
‘Yeah,’ said Angus. ‘Sorry.’
There was an uncomfortable silence.
‘So,’ said Graini, ‘have you dealt with Lynch before?’
‘Huh?’ said Angus. ‘No way. We saw him once, that’s all.’
‘At Reafen’s shop,’ said Martha. ‘He was so rude! And he couldn’t get into the shop.’
‘He couldn’t get in, even though we had only just come out,’ said Angus. ‘It was weird.’
‘Not weird,’ said Graini. ‘Reafen would have put a charm on the shop. To block the likes of Lynch.’
‘Really?’ said Martha.
‘Some of the old magick is still useful,’ said Graini. ‘Especially in this world. Take our boat for instance.’
Ava laughed. ‘Someone did try desperately to steal it,’ she said, shaking her head as if this were a great joke.
‘Some fellow from the carnival,’ said Graini.
‘Barney,’ said Angus and Martha together.
‘He is your friend?’ said Ava with surprise.
‘Nah,’ said Angus. ‘We’ve seen him around, that’s all.’
‘When he tried to climb on board, our boat fought back,’ said Graini.
‘Pardon?’ said Angus. ‘What do you mean it fought back?’
‘Yeah,’ breathed Martha. ‘What kind of a boat have you got?’
‘A small, enchanted vessel,’ said Graini matter-of-factly. ‘Built centuries ago. Blessed by a Viking magician.’
‘We’re very fond of our boat,’ said Ava. ‘Would you care to see a sketch?’
The kids leaned forward as Ava slid her notebook from inside her jacket. She flicked through the pages, turned the notebook sideways and passed it to Angus.
‘There it is,’ she said, tapping the page. ‘Graini is a gifted artist, don’t you agree?’
Martha looked over her brother’s shoulder at the sketch. ‘That’s awesome,’ she breathed.
‘Yes,’ said Graini. ‘It is an awe-inspiring vessel and that Barney person tried to steal it. When our boat would not allow him on board, he became angry. He tried to take a slice of our boat’s timber.’
‘He hacked at it with a tomahawk,’ said Ava with a grimace.
‘So our boat bit him,’ said Graini. ‘And hurled him aside ... And that’s how his arm got broken,’ she added. ‘You do not want to get bitten by one of our boats. They have an exceptional grip.’
Ava giggled. ‘But still he fought on,’ she said, her eyes gleaming in the firelight. ‘He was most determined. He ran at our boat and tried to chop off its head!’
‘So there was no other option,’ said Graini. ‘Our boat blasted him with flames from its mouth. Whoosh!’ She waved her arms around her head. ‘This would-be thief, this double-dealing, axe-wielding boat-basher got his greedy mitts scorched and the snivelling coward passed out on the beach.’
‘We discovered him soon after,’ said Ava. ‘We knew he wasn’t just some lonesome New World tramp. We could see he had done battle with our boat — his wounds were consistent. Graini caught the thought-images too. She and our boat have a psychic connection, you know. She sees fleeting visions and senses if our boat is troubled. And our boat was distressed. We led it to a new secret mooring. Then we carried him, Barney, through the silent streets to our hide-out at the hat factory.’
‘Ava aided him with the Singing Stones,’ said Graini. ‘And I dressed his wounds and set his broken arm.’
‘Does every goblin have a set of special stones?’ said Martha. ‘Singing Stones. Water Stones. It seems like it.’
‘We do,’ said Ava. ‘They are our Birth Gifts. We goblins are blessed to understand the earth’s hidden treasures. We are honoured to guard these treasures with reverence and ... use them sparingly and with discretion.’
‘She means they use them carefully and with respect,’ explained Angus when he saw his sister’s confused expression.
‘I know what she means,’ snapped Martha.
‘But back to Barney,’ said Ava hurriedly, not wishing to see another argument. ‘We left him there to rest and recuperate, then we plonked him down where we knew he would be quickly discovered.’
‘He had more than learned his lesson,’ said Graini. ‘The matter was done with.’
All four fell silent. Martha picked up a piece of driftwood and poked at the fire. A stack of blackened pine cones toppled down the logs and collapsed in a shower of sparks.
‘You know what?’ said Angus. ‘I think it’s time you gave us some other answers.’
‘Angus,’ warned Martha, ‘don’t be so pushy.’
‘Pushy?’ said Angus. ‘That’s rich coming from you, Martha.’
He turned his attention back to the goblin girls. ‘Why are you two chasing the narrare? Why did you come to our world? Were you chosen to do this task?’
‘Graini and I, we came here because ...’ said Ava and she glanced at Graini for reassurance.
Graini nodded. ‘Tell them.’
‘We came here only because we hoped to prove ourselves — to show that we are strong and able and of the elite Guardian Class.’ She looked at Angus imploringly, almost willing him to understand, perhaps to even sympathise.
‘Go on,’ he said gently.
‘It is called a Rite of Passage, Angus Jack,’ said Ava. ‘Do you know of these things?’
Angus nodded. So did his sister — although Angus could see the confusion in her eyes. Clearly she was too proud to admit the truth.
‘Just so we’re all on the same page,’ he said, pretend
ing to be muddled, ‘a Rite of Passage is like a challenge or an ordeal that marks the transition from one stage of life to another. It’s kind of like a test that a teenager might have to pass in order to become an adult.’
‘You understand precisely.’ Graini crossed her arms, satisfied with this explanation.
Martha avoided her brother’s gaze, but there was the hint of a smile at the edge of her lips. She appreciated his kindness.
‘In the Old Realm traditions,’ Ava continued, ‘the more daring and dangerous and unbelievably treacherous the Rite of Passage, the more glory. To seek and find the legendary stolen narrare became our passion. Even as children we talked about it constantly.’
‘We defied our families, our friends, our elders, in order to take this journey,’ said Graini. ‘Before us, no-one had been brave or committed enough. To top it off, our folk had grown more and more careless. Narrares were being bought and traded. It was terrible to witness. But Ava and I are of the new generation. And we were determined, do you see? Determined to prove ourselves and to take back what is rightfully ours — for the loss of our narrares, the scattering of our narrares, is a terrible calamity. It means the loss of our stories. And without our stories, our legends, our memories, who are we?’
‘We are no-one,’ said Ava sadly.
Angus could not help but smile. These goblin girls were actually quite cool. They were so brave, so full of grit, that you had to like them. He glanced at his sister. She was glowing with admiration. If anyone understood rebellion, it was Martha.
‘So, why did you take our narrare?’ asked Ava finally.
‘Yes,’ said Graini. ‘Confess to us this moment, please.’
‘What use is it to you?’ said Ava. ‘You are not robbers or thieves or plunderers. And we don’t believe that you are selfish and seeking self-importance.’
Angus stared across the fire at Ava. How he regretted putting her at risk. What a traitor he was, leaving her behind in that rotten hat factory. He wished there had been another choice. But at the time there seemed no other way.
‘I believe you are both kind and truth-speaking,’ Ava continued quietly. ‘I believe you are gentle, peace-loving humans.’ She thought for a moment. ‘I believe that you aren’t even greedy.’
‘Greedy?’ said Angus with surprise.
‘There is a problem,’ said Ava earnestly, ‘with humans and greed. Do you know of it, Angus Jack?’
Angus sighed. ‘Yes, I know of it.’
‘The narrare is for our father,’ said Martha plainly.
‘Someone’s holding him hostage,’ said Angus. ‘Apparently Dad knows all about the narrare. Reafen showed it to him heaps of times and Dad must have got all ... obsessed.’
‘Reafen,’ snorted Graini.
‘This morning Dad’s study was ransacked,’ said Angus. ‘There were drawings and models of snow domes, I mean, narrares, tossed all over the place. The room was trashed — and he was gone. The next thing, I get this message saying he’s trapped and they, I mean, she, will kill him if we don’t get the narrare ...’
‘She will kill him,’ said Graini with alarm. ‘Who is she?’
Angus shrugged. ‘All we know is that we have to be at the Vanishing Lady’s tent at midnight ...’
‘So it is not Lynch who holds your father hostage,’ said Graini thoughtfully.
‘We’ve never even seen the tent,’ added Martha. ‘But that’s where we have to hand over the narrare. Then this nutcase will let the Prof go.’
‘And you believe this?’ Graini looked more than a tad incredulous.
‘We don’t have a choice,’ said Angus gloomily.
‘We have risked everything to find the narrare,’ said Graini. ‘We are fighting to protect it, to keep it from the wrong hands, and now you want to give it over. Just like that.’ She snapped her fingers.
‘He’s our father!’ said Angus. ‘What do you expect us to do?’
Ava moved closer to the fire. ‘The Vanishing Lady ...’ she pondered. ‘Why does this sound familiar?’
‘Tell me,’ said Graini, ‘how precisely does this Vanishing Lady vanish? What is her mode of magick?’
Angus shook his head. ‘No idea,’ he said. ‘I expect it’s just some lame carnie trick.’
‘She’s probably got a fancy trapdoor,’ said Martha. ‘I think that’s how they mostly do it.’
Angus nodded. ‘It’s all smoke and mirrors.’
‘Mirrors?’ cried Ava and Graini, and the kids jumped. ‘Mirrors,’ repeated Angus slowly as something dreadful dawned on him. ‘No ...’ He groaned and bowed his head. ‘I just remembered, the cheval mirror in Dad’s study, it was shattered, wrecked. I’d forgotten until now. So much has been going on, and the study was like a war zone, everything else was wrecked too. But the mirror — it was even worse than yours, Martha. Even the frame was split in two.’
Martha’s jaw dropped.
‘Tell us everything,’ said Graini. ‘Every tiny detail you can snaffle from your brain.’
It was pointless holding back. Angus relayed all he could remember while the goblin girls listened earnestly. He watched the time closely too, aware that it was passing quickly.
Graini stood up. ‘Oh, this is no good,’ she said. ‘No good at all. Mirrors, Ava. Do you hear this? Mirrors. This cannot be a coincidence.’ She paced in front of the skeleton graffiti.
‘Sit down, Graini,’ said Ava. ‘You’re making me feel dishevelled.’
But Graini would not sit down. She stood in the mouth of the cave, an arc of bleak, windy sky behind her. ‘If this Vanishing Lady is Varla,’ she said gravely, ‘what will we do?’
‘Varla?’ said Angus. ‘Who’s that?’
The goblin girls seemed reluctant to reply, reluctant to go further.
‘Who is this Varla?’ said Angus again. ‘You have to tell us!’
‘She is an enchantress from the Old Realm,’ said Ava, dropping her voice.
‘You mean she’s some kind of witch?’ said Angus.
Ava nodded. ‘A witch. Yes.’
‘Many love her,’ said Graini darkly. ‘But many more fear her. For Varla is a tyrant. A cruel, self-seeking fiend. And ...’
‘And what?’ Angus stared.
‘She deals in the Wild Magick,’ breathed Graini as a shadow fell across her face.
‘The Wild Magick?’ said Martha.
Ava hugged herself fearfully. ‘Necromancy — the raising of the dead. Mind and spirit possession. Shape-shifting. All sorts of deadly trickery and gruesome sacrifices and killings. Please, Angus Jack, Martha Jack,’ said Ava, glancing about as if the walls had ears, ‘don’t make us say more. Just know this, your problems are escalating. You must engage our help. You must!’
Graini left her spot by the entrance and joined them, squatting by the fire, frowning at the kids through the smoky haze.
‘We’re coming with you,’ she said. ‘To this tent. To this Vanishing Lady.’
‘No way!’ Martha shook her head. ‘We have to go alone.’
‘We can’t risk it,’ agreed Angus. ‘You’d draw too much attention ... Actually, I think we should get going now, Martha.’
‘You must not face this Vanishing Lady alone,’ said Graini. ‘Do you hear me? It is not possible. If indeed this is Varla, you will need all our help. All our valour and insight.’
Angus and Martha faltered.
Ava reached out shyly and touched Angus’s hand. ‘You must trust us, Angus Jack,’ she said softly. ‘It is time we helped one another, for your problem is now also our problem, and we are all of us in imminent danger.’
Angus studied her face, the determined little chin and broad cheekbones. The curve of her dark lashes and the silvery dreadlock that fell across her left eye. Ava smiled and his heart thumped. He hoped he wasn’t going red ... and with that his cheeks flared.
‘All right,’ he said. ‘Time’s running out. But do you absolutely promise to stay hidden? No-one can see you with us. Do you understand? Not eve
n some random kid on a merry-go-round.’
‘Naturally,’ said Graini. ‘We will be hidden at all times, even from you. We are masters of disguise.’
‘Yes,’ said Angus doubtfully. ‘Absolute masters ...’
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
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The rogue tent
At the dreary end of the boardwalk, beyond the shooting galleries and inflatable slides, the laughing clowns and the haunted house, they found a red-and-white striped tent. It was Victorian in design, perfectly round with a red pennant adorning a central mast and carved wooden masks with grotesque expressions hanging from the edge of the roof.
The rain had settled in. It pooled behind the masks, trickling like tap water down the sides of the tent.
‘Could this really be it?’ said Martha. ‘The tent we’re looking for?’ She drew closer to her brother. They were standing under the awning of a disused kebab van.
‘Must be,’ said Angus, looking about. A tall, rain-washed sign at the entrance to the tent suddenly came to life: Beware the Vanishing Lady. The sign was surrounded by flickering light bulbs, red, purple, green; one or two sparked and crackled.
‘I don’t like the look of it,’ said Martha, lowering her voice. ‘It’s creepy. And how come we’ve never noticed it before? It’s like it just popped up from out of nowhere.’
‘It’s just another tent,’ said Angus, covering his eyes from the rain. He looked up at the sagging pennant. He could not make out the emblem on the pennant; it was too wet and bedraggled. ‘Why should we notice one more tent in all this? Besides, I’m always at the shooting gallery and you spend half your life on the Paratrooper.’
They stared at the tent a moment longer, neither of them feeling satisfied with Angus’s explanation, both of them wondering how they could have overlooked something so fancy — and why, for that matter, it was tucked away on the deserted fringes of the carnival.
‘Come on,’ said Angus finally.
They pulled their damp clothing around them, bowed their heads against the rain and quickly picked their way across the mud and puddles to the big stripy tent. There was a ticket booth out the front but there was no-one in it, just a brass cash register, a reel of dusty paper tickets and a bar stool.