by Che Golden
The front door was glazed top and bottom with a dimpled brown glass that allowed her see a watery outline of a figure standing in the hallway. From the curve of the big belly she could see it was Uncle Jack. She didn’t have a front door key – she guessed her aunt didn’t want her to feel like she was a member of the family or anything – so she knocked on the glass to be let in. She scanned the street behind her as she waited, her fingertips touching the smooth surface of the letter box for the comforting feel of metal. But apart from the odd car whizzing past and a few small kids playing with a skipping rope, there was not a soul to be seen.
She turned back to the door and squinted through the glass – Uncle Jack hadn’t moved and it looked as if he was on the phone. Maddy hissed through her teeth with frustration and tried to ignore the sick feeling of fear in her stomach. The skin on her back crawled as she faced the door – as peaceful as things here looked, she didn’t completely trust that some triple-jointed, long-nailed hand was not going to reach out and grab her. She knocked again and glared at Uncle Jack.
‘Come on. What are you doing in there? What’s so important you can’t answer the door?’ she muttered.
But still he yakked on and still he ignored her. The sweat that was trickling under her clothes now had nothing to do with the heat. A little voice in her head kept yammering at her to get inside, to get out of sight, that the longer she stood on the doorstep the more chance there was something bad was going to happen to her. Not logical, but still …
‘Oh, stuff this!’ said Maddy, and leaned her thumb on the doorbell. Leaned hard and kept it there.
The shrill ring of the doorbell jangled through the air, and with each second that passed Maddy waited for Uncle Jack to notice she was there and walk his huge stomach the tiny distance to the front door. But he turned his broad back to the door, the phone still clamped to his ear, while a smaller, thinner figure shot like an arrow from the kitchen at the end of the hallway, a figure with an irritated walk and a dome-shaped hairstyle. Maddy’s heart sank. It was Aunt Fionnula.
She yanked the door open and glared at Maddy, her pencilled eyebrows shooting up her forehead, almost disappearing into her dark hair, stiff and highly flammable with its lacquer of hairspray. She had been at her part-time job today and coral-coloured lipstick had wandered into the thin lines that radiated from her pinched mouth. She was squeezed into a pencil skirt and a fussy blouse, and her big feet, forced into a pair of pointed shoes, flapped on the end of her stick-thin legs like flippers. Her cold eyes scanned the street for a second, alert for gossiping neighbours, and then her bony, hard fingers clamped down on Maddy’s shoulder and yanked her into the house.
‘Do you HAVE to make a show of me, every chance you get?’ she asked, her body quivering as she looked down at Maddy. Maddy felt a grim sense of satisfaction when she realized that, even with heels on, Aunt Fionnula did not have enough height to look down the length of her beaky nose at her. Maddy had been growing, and soon she would be as tall as her aunt.
‘I just wanted to get into the house,’ Maddy said, her voice a low growl. Every conversation with her aunt went like this – they were like two dogs fighting over a bone. But she couldn’t suppress a shudder of relief as Aunt Fionnula closed the door on the harsh sunshine. ‘If you gave me a key I wouldn’t have to stand on the doorstep every time, banging on the door to be let in.’
Aunt Fionnula narrowed her eyes at Maddy and said, ‘What have you done this time?’
It was only then that Maddy became aware of the unnaturally jolly tone Uncle Jack was using on the telephone as he walked away into the kitchen. A tone he normally only used with his boss or Granda. Maddy swallowed. Una must have talked to Granda already.
‘Granda is on his way out here,’ said Aunt Fionnula.
‘Right now?’ asked Maddy.
Aunt Fionnula shook her head, her eyes never leaving Maddy’s. ‘No, after dinner.’
‘What has that got to do with me?’
‘He is insisting on coming over, for no good reason,’ said Aunt Fionnula. That would annoy Uncle Jack. He was always nervous around his father-in-law and he hated having him in the house.
‘Why does that have anything do with me?’
Aunt Fionnula thrust her face so close to Maddy’s that she could see a smear of lipstick on a yellowed front tooth as Aunt Fionnula bit her words out. ‘It always has something to do with you.’
‘He wants to talk to you.’ Uncle Jack loomed over them both, his big belly straining the buttons on his shirt. He was holding the phone out to Maddy. She took it with trembling fingers.
‘Hello?’
‘Una told me what happened,’ said Granda. His voice sounded angry and scared at the same time. ‘She also told me you asked her to keep it secret from me.’
‘Not forever,’ said Maddy. ‘Just until—’
‘Just until you had time to do something stupid?’
Maddy bit her lip as Aunt Fionnula flounced off to the kitchen and Uncle Jack ambled his way to the living room opposite her, a newspaper tucked under one arm.
‘I’m not stupid,’ she said in a low voice, tears pricking at her eyes.
Granda sighed. ‘I never said you were, Maddy. But you can’t sort everything out on your own. People get … hurt, if we are not careful.’
Maddy closed her eyes. Bang Bang. She thought of his grave, high up on a hill, surrounded by lush green fields. She thought of Fionn and her silvery green fingers falling into the snow.
‘Granda …’
‘Pack your things. I am moving you tonight.’
‘Where?’
‘Somewhere you can be surrounded by iron,’ said Granda.
‘What will Granny say if I am not living here?’
‘Let me worry about that. Just get your things ready.’
She heard a click and the hum of the dialling tone as Granda hung up on her. She sighed and put the phone down on the glass top of the hall table. The glazed door to the living room creaked open and her cousin Danny popped his head around the frame. He looked pale and tense.
‘We’ve got a problem,’ he whispered, and he jerked his head toward the TV.
Really? thought Maddy. Let’s just add it to the list.
But she said nothing and simply slipped into the room, where she perched awkwardly on the arm of the sofa. It was a long and narrow room, lined with an overstuffed sofa and equally corpulent armchairs, all shoved tight against the walls in a vain attempt to create an illusion of space. It might have worked, had Aunt Fionnula not been so fond of patterns. They were everywhere, from the swirling carpet to the floral sofa to the stripes and borders and polka dots on the wall. The only plain things in the room were the burgundy-coloured velvet curtains that hung in dusty swags from the small window. A mahogany-veneer display cabinet groaned with china figurines and framed photos. When it was switched off, the television was the simplest thing in the room and ironically the most peaceful place for Maddy to rest her eyes. The flat screen was too narrow for Aunt Fionnula to balance ornaments or dried flower displays on.
The local news programme was playing and Maddy came in just in time to see a familiar face flash up on-screen. She felt the blood drain from her cheeks and flicked a quick glance at Uncle Jack to see if he had noticed her reaction, but he had his newspaper held firmly in front of his face so he could ignore his son and inconvenient niece and read undisturbed. Dimly, Maddy became aware of what the newsreader was saying.
‘Canine experts from Fota Wildlife Park have been called in to help the local Gardaí search for what some witnesses have claimed is a wolf running loose in the grounds of Blarney Castle,’ said some bland-looking bloke in a suit that didn’t fit properly. ‘A spokesperson for the Gardaí has said there are no animals missing from the wildlife park or from local zoos and that it is likely a large domestic dog, but that people should avoid approaching the animal and call the Gardaí if they see it.’
As the newsreader talked, an image flashed up on the
screen. It was a fuzzy picture taken on a mobile phone by someone with a shaky hand. But there was no mistaking that silvery fur or the way the tongue lolled through those wide, open jaws. Or how those black lips turned up ever so slightly, making the animal look as if it was laughing.
It was Nero.
CHAPTER THREE
Danny stood up quickly, his face as white as paper, as the newsreader moved on to another story. He plucked quickly at the short sleeve of Maddy’s T-shirt and nodded his head toward the stairs. She flicked another glance at Uncle Jack, who was still trying to pretend he was alone in the room, and followed Danny out. Aunt Fionnula was banging pots and pans in the kitchen, cooking dinner in her own vengeful way. And the house only got noisier as they climbed the stairs.
Even without Aunt Fionnula’s tragic love of pattern and ornament, the house would have felt claustrophobic with all the people living in it. Maddy had a sneaking suspicion Aunt Fionnula didn’t really like children, yet she had managed to have five of her own. The entire family was squeezed into a three-bedroomed terraced house. Life had been a little easier since an extension had been built as a bedroom for Aunt Fionnula and Uncle Jack and they could give the upstairs of their house to their children. But the little house still shook to the sound of boisterous boys – the thudding of their feet, their squeals as games got rough, the blare of music and video games and clatter and crunch as their debris was kicked and stood on.
As the only girl in the family, Maddy’s cousin Roisin had the privilege of a room all to herself, even if it was a tiny box room. It was the calmest, quietest and most private place in the house and Danny headed straight there as his brothers did their best to kill each other in the largest bedroom, kicking and rolling on fallen toys and clothes. Maddy faltered and watched them for a second. Sean was kicking Ronan in the ribs and screaming, ‘Take it back, TAKE IT BACK!’ He was so red in the face he looked as if he might explode. Paul was squealing with delight and jumping up and down on the top bunk bed as he egged his brother on, eyes sparkling. Maddy winced at the thudding noise Sean’s trainer-clad feet made as they hit Ronan’s ribs.
It was a mistake to stop. It distracted the horrors. They jumped up and ran to the door to see what Maddy and Danny were up to.
‘Ooooh, you’re going into a girl’s room,’ crowed Ronan, while Sean and Paul erupted into laughter. ‘Are you going to play with their dollies? Are you going to put on lipstick?’ Sean puckered up and made kissing noises while fluttering his eyelashes.
‘You won’t be so funny if I come over there and give you a pasting,’ said Danny, trying to fix them with his most threatening glare.
‘Go ahead, try it, I dare ya!’ said Paul. ‘You know I can burst ya!’
‘It’ll be worth it,’ said Danny.
The two boys glared at each other and flexed imaginary muscles. Maddy rolled her eyes. It really was survival of the fittest in this house.
‘Why are you going into Ro’s room anyway?’ asked Ronan, who had always been the slightly smarter one. ‘We’re not allowed in there.’
‘None of your business,’ said Danny.
‘If you’re going into Ro’s room, then so are we!’ said Sean, whom Maddy had always considered the slightly thicker one.
Danny opened his mouth to argue with them just as they decided to charge. Maddy shoved him through the half-open door and they managed to slam it shut as the three boys collided with it. Danny kept the door handle up as one of them tried to force it down from the other side, while the other two, probably Sean and Paul, beat on the wood with their fists and feet, howling to be let in. The metal of the handle began to bite into Danny’s hand as it slowly moved down – Ronan must have been hanging off it on the other side, using all his body weight to try to force it down. Maddy put her palms flat against the door and leaned against it to give Danny a hand when she heard Uncle Jack shout, ‘If you break another door in this house, you won’t see daylight for a month!’
The three monsters gave a shriek and ran back to the big bedroom. Maddy heard their door slam and their muffled giggles and snorts. She turned and leaned her back against the door and gave a sigh of relief. Roisin was sitting on her bed, a book on her lap. She sighed and shook her head.
‘I can’t wait until I can move out and get a bit of peace.’
The box room would have been small with just Roisin’s single bed and her chest of drawers squeezed into it, the wardrobe hulking by the window and blocking some of the light, but with a mattress laid on the floor for Maddy to sleep on and her stuff spilling out of three rucksacks, there literally wasn’t room to stand. To get to their clothes, the girls had to walk on Maddy’s bed. Maddy and Roisin were good friends, even now, but Maddy missed her own room at Granny and Granda’s, even if it did have wedding-paper wallpaper.
Danny flung himself on the mattress while Maddy sank down next to Roisin.
‘So you’ve seen the news then?’ asked Roisin.
Maddy nodded. ‘Is it definitely Nero?’
‘If it’s not, it’s doing a very good impression of him,’ said Danny.
‘There have been a few pictures taken, not just the one shown on the TV,’ said Roisin. ‘They’re all over the Internet. People are posting comments on Facebook and Twitter from experts saying it’s a wolf.’
Maddy snorted. ‘Everyone’s an expert online.’
‘Yes,’ said Roisin. ‘But it’s Nero. Things must be bad if he’s here.’
The wolves of Tír na nÓg were frightened of the mortal world, having been hunted almost to extinction when they last lived in it. Only pure desperation would drive one of them across the border between Tír na nÓg and the mortal world.
‘Well, things are about to get worse,’ said Maddy. She took a deep breath. ‘The dullahan breached the border and appeared to me outside Great-Aunt Kitty’s home. He said my name.’
Danny and Roisin looked at each other, puzzled. ‘So?’ said Danny.
‘So Una told me that the dullahan is the soul collector. He only speaks your name when yours is the next soul he’s coming for.’
Danny’s jaw dropped and Roisin went white, making her ginger freckles stand out. ‘You’re dying?’ she asked.
‘No, I’m perfectly healthy,’ said Maddy. ‘It means that someone wants me dead.’
‘Liadan,’ said Danny and Roisin at the same time. Maddy nodded miserably.
‘But she can’t do that!’ said Roisin. ‘You’re a subject of the Autumn Court. She can’t attack someone else’s subject without … without …’
‘… Declaring war on the court.’ Danny said the words his sister could not.
They all looked at each other in silence. War. They had faced the abyss once before, had clung to its edge and peered into its darkness, but both worlds had been pulled back from the brink just in time. But Liadan’s move had sent Maddy tumbling into its maw, and as she fell she dragged the Winter and Autumn Courts with her. No doubt the Spring and Summer Courts would rush to join the bloodshed, their monarchs eager for a fight. She had no idea whose side they would be on.
‘We knew this was going to happen,’ said Roisin. Maddy looked at her, but Roisin shrugged. ‘Well, we did. You said it yourself, Maddy – they were never going to give up, never going to stop coming after you. Liadan has wanted you dead for ages and Meabh is just fascinated with you being the Hound. She thinks it’s going to tip a war in her favour, having you tied to the court. God only knows why.’
Last Halloween Maddy had found out that she was the new Hound of Ireland, destined to follow in the footsteps of Cú Chulainn, an ancient Irish hero, the only mortal Maddy knew of who had taken on the faeries and won. It was up to Maddy now to be as strong as him, and to keep the mortal world safe. She had no idea how she was supposed to do that, and Meabh had laughed at her for even thinking she could try, but the Autumn Queen had been very keen to put a collar around Maddy’s neck and bring her into her court.
‘Anyone sort of relieved this has happened?’ asked Dann
y.
‘Are you mad?’ said Maddy.
‘Sometimes I think I am,’ said Danny. ‘I don’t sleep too well at night, I have screaming nightmares when I do, I jump at every shadow and I can’t tell anyone else about any of this, and even if I could, who would believe me?’
‘Cassandra syndrome,’ said Roisin.
‘What?’ said Danny.
‘It’s what everyone has got in that home, including Aunt Kitty,’ said Roisin. ‘They know what’s going on, but when they tell people, no one believes them and either they get locked up for being mentally ill or the fear of what’s coming sends them mad anyway.’
‘Who’s Cassandra?’ asked Maddy.
‘She was the daughter of King Priam of Troy,’ said Roisin. ‘She was cursed to have the gift of prophecy but never to be believed. She knew Troy was going to burn, she saw all those people dying in her dreams long before it happened, but no one listened.’
‘Yeah, that sounds about right,’ Danny muttered.
They sat in silence for a while, lost in their own thoughts, when Roisin said, ‘I want this to be over.’
She carried on talking while Maddy and Danny stared at her.
‘I’m getting the screaming nightmares too, and so are you, Maddy. We share a room; it’s pointless trying to hide it. But the nightmares don’t go away, even when I’m awake. I keep seeing them, beneath the mound, under my feet, staring up with those pale faces, just waiting to break through and kill everyone around them while they set themselves up as kings and queens again.’
‘I’m not sure that they are technically under our feet …’ said Maddy.
‘I don’t care about the physics of it!’ said Roisin. ‘They’re there and they want to kill us all, or at least enough of us so we don’t ever think about fighting back again, ever, and I can’t just forget that. I can’t go to school and live my life and put it to one side that they are constantly probing the barrier, trying to find a way through, that a war in Ireland, if not another world war, is possible. And the Sighted are the only ones that know about it and the only ones that can see it coming.’