by Jenna Grey
“Bert, he’s here. I can see him as clearly as I can see you. Sigurd’s here. I think that his spirit couldn’t rest until he knew that we’d found the stone.”
Bert followed Polly’s gaze and stared at the spectre without seeing it.
“What do you want?” Polly asked, and then realised how ridiculous that was, because he couldn’t speak English. But she somehow knew he understood.
“He wants us to give him a proper burial. Can we do that?” Polly asked,
“We can lay his bones to rest,” Bert said, pulling himself to his feet. “Help me.”
Polly couldn’t take her eyes from the spirit who just stood there watching them, his face expressionless. Polly did as she was told, daring to touch the bones and knowing that she would feel more of Sigurd’s life. This time, though, the memories were of life, not death: holding his newborn son in his arms, days and nights of happiness with his family and friends. Bringing his son Bragi back from whatever dark place he had gone to with the Hellstone. Words filled her head, words she knew were important, the words Sigurd had used to bring Bragi back. She didn’t remember them, they were said and gone before she even heard them, but she knew they were still there in her head ready for her to use them if she ever needed to.
They laid the bones out as well as they could, reforming his body. They found his helmet nearby and cleaned it as best they could, laying it on his chest and Bert took off his windcheater and put it over the top, covering Sigurd’s skull.
“It’s the best we can do,” Bert said. “Rest in peace, my friend.”
Polly looked across at Sigurd’s ghost, and he gave her just one slow nod. Then he was gone.
“Are you okay, sweetheart?” Bert asked.
“Okay. I think he might finally be at rest now. Sigurd’s son Bragi is here somewhere as well. He died with his father. So sad. All that trouble Sigurd went to to give his son a warrior’s death so that he could go to Valhalla and he still died this ignoble death.”
“Oh, we both know that’s not how it works,” Bert said. “I’m sure they both ended up where they were supposed to go.”
Polly wasn’t so sure that was a good thing, knowing what she did of Sigurd’s life. He had done terrible things. She pushed it from her mind.
“I wish Finn would hurry up, I want to get out of this place,” Polly said.
“He won’t be long, dearest,” Bert whispered. “Then we’ll go home, and we never have to come back.”
“Someone should come back, though, shouldn’t they? In a little while, when things have died down, and this mess has been sorted out, someone should come back here to excavate and let everyone know what happened here to these men. Their story needs to be told because nobody knows it right now. We could find a way to let people know, couldn’t we?”
Bert gave a long and very weary sigh.
“We can try. I’m sure we can find a way, even if it means using a bit of magic.”
Finn drove them all the way back, out of necessity, rather than choice. All any of them wanted to do was to get back home. It was an awful journey; rain lashed down on them the whole way, perhaps the gods shedding tears for Bram, a true believer. The windscreen wipers could hardly keep up with the driving rain, and neither she or Bert dared to speak to Finn, in case it broke his concentration. All Polly could think of was that for all of the misery they had gone through, what good had it actually done? Her uncle still had the Hellstone, and they had no idea how to use the Torinstone. It all seemed to be an exercise in futility. She told Finn what had happened, how Sigurd’s ghost had appeared, and he accepted it without question just as she’d expected.
“You said you heard the spell he used on the Hellstone?” Bert said.
“Yes, but I can’t remember a word of it.”
Bert gave her a cheery smile.
“Oh, that doesn’t matter, you heard it. Once heard, a spell is never forgotten. There are ways to retrieve it.”
“Just a pity we haven’t got the stone,” Polly mumbled.
They got back home, all miserable and exhausted and threw a few ready meals in the microwave. There was no sign of Liam, and Polly was at least grateful for that; she really couldn’t face a confrontation with him at the moment.
“I’m going to put the sword hilt in a safe place, protected by every spell and charm I can think of to keep it hidden from anyone that might be taking too much of an interest,” Bert said.
“Do you think my uncle knows what we’ve been doing?” Polly asked. “When he sent those things after us, did he know where we were, or were they like homing missiles, just seeking us out wherever we happened to be?”
Bert gave a helpless shrug.
“Who knows – how can we be sure of anything any more? We need to assume that he does know we have something of interest. Whatever his other failings, he’s not a fool.”
Finn tidied up the food trays and threw them in the rubbish bin – not one of them had been more than half eaten. Polly couldn’t even remember what she had eaten.
“I’m surprised that Gaunt didn’t try to have another go at us, set up another trap inside the cave,” Finn said.
“It’s possible he didn’t have enough power left, after sending those demons to us earlier. His power isn’t limitless. If we are this exhausted from expending so much arcane energy, can you imagine how exhausted he must be? I think he would have tried again if he could, but couldn’t find the strength to do it.”
“We need to find out more about the Torinstone,” Finn said. “We don’t even know how to use it. What use is it to us if we don’t have the key to its power? Without that, it’s just a lump of rock.” Polly could tell that he was still so bitter over Bram’s murder – he was barely keeping his anger in check.
“Well, it’s not the time to worry about it tonight,” Bert said, “but if I’m honest with you both, then I have to say that the only way we are going to find out is for Polly to take hold of the stone and see if she gets––”
Finn cut him off with a ‘No’. “Dad, you saw what happened when she touched it. Do you really want her to go through that again?”
Bert put his hands up in the air in surrender. Polly decided to keep out of it until she heard what Bert had to say, but she had to admit that she wasn’t overly keen on reliving Sigurd’s last moments again. Her back was still sending up pain signals every so often, although that could have been because she’d been sitting in a hard car seat for so long.
“I know, I do appreciate that,” Bert said, “and I’ve considered it carefully. I truly believe that Polly had that reaction because she was touching Sigurd’s sword hilt. It was steeped in blood and violence, and that was what she was picking up on. I am convinced that if the Torinstone is removed from the sword, then Polly will be able to get what we need from it without such a dreadful reaction.”
“And if you’re wrong?” Finn demanded.
“I think it’s my decision,” Polly said, firmly. “I’m not keen on getting too close to poor old Sigurd again, but if we don’t find out how to use that stone, then all of this will have been for nothing. Worse – can you imagine what would happen if my uncle called an army of those creatures up and set them loose on humanity? I can’t; we can’t, risk that happening. If there is any chance that we can stop him, then we have to take it.”
Finn and Bert both stared at her, a bit taken aback by her sudden belligerence.
“I love you,” Finn said, giving her a sheepish smile. “And you’re right – it is your decision.”
Bert gave them a very effusive grin.
“Well, it’s too late to do anything tonight. You both go and get a good night’s sleep, and we’ll decide tomorrow what’s to be done. I don’t think that any of us are up to making big decisions right now.”
“We’ll have to sleep in my room, won’t we?” Polly said.
Finn looked baffled for a minute, frowning her a ‘why?’
“Yes, yes of course,” Bert put in quickly. “I was going t
o suggest that we ask Liam to take Polly’s room for the night so that you and she could have your room, Finn, but I don’t think it’s a good idea to disturb him.”
Finn gave a nervous laugh and pulled a ‘duh’ face.
“Oh right, yes, let sleeping dog’s lie,” he said. “We can manage in Polly’s room.”
It was very snug in the single bed with Finn squashed in beside her, but nice too. The bed was against the wall, so Polly could crush up against it and still give Finn enough room to fit in. She snuggled in next to him, too tired to even think about doing anything other than sleep.
CHAPTER TWELVE
Polly left Finn in bed and got up early because all she was doing was lying there getting backache from trying to squeeze in around him. He seemed to be expanding like a gas to fill every available space. She went down to the kitchen and had a look through the cupboards to see what she could find for them to eat. The freezer held little hope for a decent meal; all she found there was a half-empty packet of frozen chips that looked as if they’d been there for several years, and some old Yorkshire puddings buried in ice. There were a couple of ready meals in the fridge, and some almost fresh root vegetables under the sink which she could probably use to make a casserole. In real terms, they were under siege, trapped in the shop by Gaunt and his minions. None of them were particularly keen to leave the shop and go to the supermarket because it was more or less certain that Gaunt had set someone or something to watch the shop; once they got outside, anything could happen. Liam was the obvious candidate for a supermarket run, but she hadn’t seen him since they got back. Of course, think of the devil, and he appears.
“How are you feeling?” he asked, as he came up behind her. He looked as if he’d just got out of bed, his hair a tousled mess, his face stubbled.
“I’ve been better,” she said. “Have you seen your Dad yet?” Liam rubbed his eyes with the heels of his hands and blinked at her.
“Yes, I spoke to Dad last night.” Polly carried on peeling the potato, not looking up at him. “He told me what happened.”
“It was awful.” Polly couldn’t say any more, her throat tightening and words refusing to come.
“If you don’t want to talk to me, it’s okay. I understand,” he said, and made to turn and walk away.
Polly turned, shocked, confused.
“Liam, why on earth would you say that?”
He gave a humourless laugh.
“I’m psychic, remember? Don’t you think I can feel the ‘keep away from me’ vibes coming from you?”
“I’m sorry,” she said, and meant it. “It’s not you, I promise. I’m just not quite myself right now. It’s been a tough few days.” Liam moved forwards and slipped his arm around her shoulder pulling her in for a hug. She let him take it, resting her head on his shoulder and taking comfort from his warmth. For a moment she almost forgot that it was Liam; it could have been Finn holding her. She pulled back and looked up into his face, and for the first time, she saw Finn there as well, something in his eyes that looked so familiar. There was a softness there she had never seen before.
“I’m gutted about Bram,” he said. “I really loved that man. I can’t even imagine what it must have been like for you having to see that.”
“It was more awful than anything you could imagine. I’m going to have nightmares about it for the rest of my life.”
He gave her a sad little smile.
“I’m so sorry; this shouldn’t be happening to you. You’ve been chucked into this madness, and you’ve done nothing to deserve it. But you have got an extraordinary gift, an astonishing talent. One day, you’ll be grateful for it.” He reached out and brushed the hair back from her face, tracing the outline of her cheek with his fingertips. She felt uncomfortable. If Finn walked in and saw how close Liam was to her, saw him touching her, she didn’t want to think what would happen. Liam let his hand drop and moved back a step.
“Sorry,” he mumbled.
“That’s okay; it was just what I needed.” Polly felt her face redden and attacked the potato again, just to avoid looking at him.” I’m not sure I could ever see my gift as a gift. So far it’s nothing but a burden. I felt what you felt when you did my tarot reading; I felt Sigurd’s death, and it was terrible.”
“But look what you’ve achieved. You’ve got the Torinstone, and if we can find your uncle and Winchard, we can send them to Hell where they belong.”
“That will make me very happy,” she said. “And back down to earth with a bump, we desperately need some food.”
Liam looked down at the hotchpotch of ingredients on the work surface and pulled a face.
“Yeah, I’d say so. We’re just going out to get some. Dad will be here, and he’ll make sure you’re okay. Finn and I can take care of ourselves. Is there anything you need?”
“No, buy whatever you like to eat. I can cook anything.”
Liam gave a whisper of a smile, slipping forwards and pressing a kiss to her cheek.
“You are really going to regret telling me that,” he said, and turned to go back upstairs.
Trigger warning: this section contains descriptions of snakes and spiders. If either of these are likely to upset you, please click here to skip the section. SKIP.
Finn came back a while later with armfuls of shopping, staggering under their weight. He put the bags down and moved in for a kiss.
“You didn’t say goodbye,” Polly said, pouting a little.
“I didn’t have time. Liam rushed me off,” he said, kissing her on the nose.
“I can see that,” she said, rubbing her hand over his chin stubble.
He laughed and began unpacking the bags.
“We better get this food put away, or it’s all going to go off,” he said, dumping a carrier bag in her arms.
“Where is Liam by the way?”
Finn hesitated and then said:
“Oh, he’s got some business to see to. Best not to ask, as he’s only going to skirt around the truth like he always does.” Polly couldn’t help but think that he was a fine one to talk about skirting around the truth.
Polly reached into the brown paper carrier bag to unpack the fruit, pulling out the bunch of bananas that were as green as Shrek’s backside. Polly tutted and held the bunch up for Finn to see.
“Honestly, you’d thin—” Her words turned to a shriek as she saw the creature crawling over her hand. She flung the bananas away from her, and the spider flew through the air, landing on the table top.
“Keep back; I’ll take care of it,” Finn said. Polly wasn’t going to argue.
“Finn, that’s a banana spider, it’s deadly. Please be careful,” she said.
Finn laughed.
“Well, I wasn’t going to ask it out on a date,” he replied. It was a hideous thing, gangly, with a thin yellow body and spindly black and yellow legs. It made Polly shiver; She hated spiders at the best of times, but this one was a killer. Finn moved closer, picking up the iron from the countertop and moving towards the creature cautiously.
“Don’t kill it,” Polly said. “It’s not his fault he ended up in our bag. Catch it, and we can call the RSPCA to take it away.”
Finn just gave her the look.
“Sod that. You can’t mess about with these things. They are not nice.”
Finn was within reach of the spider now and brought the iron up, ready to strike. It sprang away from him as he brought the iron down, landing on the counter opposite.
“I didn’t know they could jump,” Finn said, looking far less confident now.
Then Polly saw another spider crawling from out of the bag. It slipped down the side and onto the table, moving towards the table edge. This one was larger than the last.
“Oh double fuck,” Finn said, backing off.
“We need to get Bert,” Polly said. “This isn’t right. I think we’re in trouble.”
Finn put as much space between him and the spiders as he could.
“I think you’re right
. Call him.”
They didn’t need to, Bert was already there.
“It’s all right; we can handle this. Just stay calm,” he said, raising his hand and moving towards the nearest spider. Polly could feel arcane energy building in the air around him.
The spider on the counter skittered around, and Polly would swear that it had seen Bert and was ready for him. Bert flung what must have been a spell of some kind at the spider, but it jumped clear and landed on Finn’s shoulder just as the spell hit. Finn gave a yell and tried to brush it off with the iron, but it skittered down his arm onto bare flesh.
“Oh fuck, oh fuck, oh fuck,” he said, “Get it off.”
Polly wasn’t quite sure what happened, not exactly; the creature seemed to explode in a shower of legs. Bert came over and brushed the remnants of spider from Finn’s arm to reveal unbroken skin underneath.
“You’re all right,” he said, turning to the other spider who just seemed to be hunched there, watching them. “Just stay calm and we’ll be fine.” Polly had frozen on the spot, sheer blind terror paralysing her.
The spider leapt and landed on Polly’s head. She didn’t scream, her survival instincts kicking in; she wasn’t sure she could have screamed if she wanted to.
“Just stay still, sweetheart,” Bert said, as he raised his hand and muttered something under his breath. Polly felt the creature pop, her hair sizzling just a little. She squealed and stamped her feet, shaking the bits of spider from her hair. Finn came over and brushed them out.
“They’ve all gone. You’re safe; they’re gone.”
Polly was a quivering mess, shaking, and ready to burst into tears any second.
She heard Bert say, “Oh no,” and Polly turned to see what had caused his outcry.
From under the sink unit, hundreds of small spiders scurried, running towards Bert and Finn. They were black, fat-bodied creatures, and they moved fast.
“They’re Funnel Webs. Polly, get up onto the table. Now.”
Polly didn’t argue, scrambling up onto the table and picking up a can of soup to hurl at the scurrying creatures. She hurled the can down hard and killed or maimed at least half a dozen of them. Bert and Finn were stamping on the others, crushing many of them, but they were too fast and were scuttling up over Finn’s boots within seconds. One bite would be enough to kill him, and there were enough here to finish off a hundred men. Bert closed his eyes, something Polly could never have done with those things running towards her; she could see the magic being drawn to him, his aura bursting into a bright white light.