Finn looked at her, brown milk dribbling from his spoon. If only she knew how far away he had just been. “No Smoofyland. Anywhere but Smoofyland,” he groaned.
Clara turned the tap, which spluttered and spat out sludgy, undrinkable water into her glass. She grimaced as she held it up to the light from the window. “That keeps happening,” she said. “I went to rinse Mrs Walsh’s teeth yesterday and almost made them blacker than when she came in. They were black enough to begin with.”
Emmie arrived down the stairs. Finn remembered when she had first arrived in Darkmouth: she had hardly been able to contain her excitement at being in the infamous Blighted Village, fizzing like the human version of a mint dropped into a bottle of cola. She’d been so eager for the life he led, even when he hadn’t wanted it. She would talk at one hundred kilometres an hour, and rush into trouble twice as fast.
She wasn’t like that so much any more. Instead, she was more often subdued, cautious and, he felt, suspicious.
Finn tried to shake off the idea that she was suspicious of him. They’d been through so much together, he wanted her to trust him. Even when he was lying to her. Even when he was holding on to a secret so big he could still smell it despite showering for so long last night his mother had banged on the door fearing he’d slipped and knocked himself out.
In his schoolbag, he had a half-living device that would open gateways to the Legends.
Of course Emmie should doubt him. He was beginning to doubt himself.
“Hey,” he said, Chocky-Flakes milk dribbling down his chin.
“Hey,” she replied, and popped two slices of bread into the toaster.
“Tell him Smoofyland will be great,” Clara asked her.
“That place in Slotterton with the sparkliest rollercoaster in the world?” asked Emmie.
“You’d think he doesn’t want to go on a holiday,” Clara said. “That he just wants to sit here waiting for whatever disaster lurks around the next corner.”
Finn felt a rush of panic, a tightening of his chest, an implosion. He caught his breath, blew out, drew in air steadily, calmed himself.
“You OK?” Emmie asked him.
He nodded and kept eating, watching the goldfish picking at the stones in its bowl, the silence broken only by the sound of toast springing up.
“Gotta go,” he said. “See you at school.”
He didn’t go straight to school, though. Instead he went to find his dad, who was already at work at Woofy Wash. Finn hurried, propelled by a rush of honesty. It was wrong to keep this secret. No matter the consequences, it would all have to come out. He should tell his dad everything. About the kidnapping. About going to the Infested Side. About the assistants being up to something strange in the remnants of the cave and what the Legends had said about people on this side trying to open gateways. About how dangerous it could be. About the flashes of light. About the Legends. About the request that he steal Gantrua. About the Orthrus. About everything.
“Dad—” he started as he walked into the shop.
“Good morning,” said Lucien, standing by the counter.
Hugo was behind it, apparently deeply unimpressed by Lucien’s mere presence.
Through the back, they could hear the sounds of cats, dogs, possibly a parrot, plus something that sounded like it was coughing up a squeaky toy.
Finn felt himself clam up again, the lid slamming shut on his honesty. He did his best to give Lucien a look that said he hated every single molecule in his body. Lucien, though, wouldn’t give him the satisfaction and instead addressed Hugo.
“I don’t want to delay you from whatever sort of emergency dog-washing scenario you might have going on,” he said, as if he meant it sincerely. He didn’t.
Finn fervently wanted to grab a bottle of Shampoodle off the shelf and make him drink it down until foam began to pour from his ears.
“Then make it quick, Lucien,” Hugo said, framed by wall posters of a cat having its teeth brushed and a gerbil being taken for a walk.
“It is clear that things are getting a little … how best to put it? Chaotic. Yes, chaotic.”
“Gateways?” guessed Hugo.
“Two of them. Only yesterday. One outside here, as it happens.” He looked at Finn, who instinctively looked away.
Finn didn’t want to reveal what he knew: that he had been pulled through one of those gateways, and pushed back home through the other.
“Not my place to interfere, right, Lucien?” said Hugo.
“Nothing came through that we could find,” Lucien continued, “but we have to believe the Legends are poised to return. Maybe your old enemy Mr Glad isn’t quite gone yet. These are great and mysterious worlds we deal with.”
Finn’s secret screamed in his head. He kept his mouth shut in case it escaped. In the back room, an animal squealed, so like a child that Finn wondered if it actually was a child.
“We may have stirred a viper’s nest,” Lucien continued. “Just because we have captured one of their leaders—”
“Just because Finn captured one of their leaders,” interjected Hugo.
Lucien barrelled on regardless. “… It does not mean this is the end. For all we know this is only the beginning. We have grown complacent and lazy over the years, as each Blighted Village has gone quiet. What happens when the Legends come back? What if that’s been their plan all along? These creatures live for many more years than us. What if they decided to use that to their advantage, to withdraw for a decade or three? That’s hardly the length of a lunch break as far as they’re concerned.”
The general noise of upset animals from the rear of the shop grew louder. Finn wished they’d quieten down so he could properly concentrate on figuring out what Lucien was building to. He fiddled with the bell on the desk.
“Hugo,” continued Lucien, “I’m not so blind that I can’t see how difficult this is for you to be stuck here, working this job, watching while all these out-of-towners come in and try and run Darkmouth for you.”
“Great,” said Finn. “Just give us the keys to our house and we’ll get things sorted again.”
“Finn,” said Hugo, with a hand out to quieten him. “Not now.”
“Not now?” asked Finn.
“It’s fine, Hugo,” said Lucien. “I understand the young man’s frustration. He was destined for great things and now here he is, as are you, watching while others decide when this ordeal must end.”
“Others?” said Hugo, sceptical. “You’re the only one making decisions.”
Lucien considered his response a moment. “Hugo, I want to get you involved with us again.”
Finn straightened up, wary but interested.
Hugo was silent, curious.
“It’s not right to have someone of your experience sitting here on the sidelines waiting for a result of the investigation,” said Lucien, “when it’s clear that we could use your knowledge of Darkmouth at times of difficulty.”
“Me too?” enquired Finn.
“Yes, why not?” Lucien said, like that was a fine idea. “Next time there is an invasion, or a gateway, or some enemy running through our streets we’d like you both there.”
Hugo’s face lifted.
“To direct the traffic,” concluded Lucien.
Hugo’s face fell.
“Traffic?” spluttered Finn, red rage coming over him. How could Lucien do this? How could his father sit there and take it?
“Not only to direct traffic, of course,” Lucien said brightly. “Crowd control too, if necessary. Reassuring the locals, the shopkeepers who own places such as—” he picked up a small clump of fur sitting on the counter, examined it before clapping it from his hands, “—this establishment.”
“Maybe we can give the Legends speeding tickets,” said Finn. “Ask them to wait at traffic lights while we desiccate them.”
Hugo didn’t quieten him this time.
“The Most Great Lives of the Legend Hunters is such an important book,” said Lucien, the cha
nge of focus abrupt and pointed. He folded his arms, ignoring the sounds of animals rising at the back of the shop. “It is the one they will look at for many generations to come. It is the book that defines a Legend Hunter’s reputation. Or a traitor’s. All they want to do is print a new version. Finn, you must know that if you don’t act properly, if you refuse to help, suspicions will grow. The Most Great Lives writer is due here any day now. You don’t want the black paper to fall over your family’s name.”
Woofy Wash’s owner, Mr Green, stuck his head from his office door. “It sounds like a zoo out back, Hugo. What’s going on?”
“Think about it, Hugo,” Lucien said, tapping his fingers on the counter. “That’s all I ask.”
“Oh, I’m thinking about it all right,” said Hugo.
Lucien was enjoying this. Finn knew it. He knew his father knew it. It was as clear as the shine on Lucien’s wispy-haired scalp that he had come simply to humiliate them under the guise of friendliness.
“Elektra! Tiberius!” Lucien called out.
His children appeared from the back of the shop, pushing rudely past a perplexed Mr Green. Elektra had a parrot feather in her hair. Tiberius had a writhing lump down his jumper.
“Hand it back,” Lucien ordered his son.
Tiberius reached down his sweater, pulled free a shivering gerbil and handed it to Mr Green before leaving with his sister and Lucien. Mr Green shook his head, drew a whistling breath through his clenched teeth and – with a writhing, slippery gerbil in hand – returned to his office.
Hugo had his head down. He took a long breath. When he spoke, it was with enormous control.
“You might think I’m doing nothing, Finn, but you would be very wrong,” he said. “I know what Lucien was up to. But I also know we have to be very careful and not give him any excuse to kick us out entirely. There’s no Council of Twelve to help us. No other Legend Hunters. The Half-Hunters are gone. But I do have some friends left. And I do have a plan, son.” He lifted his head. “So you’re not to do anything stupid, do you understand?”
But Finn had already left.
It was a half-day at school, because they had tests to sit. Finn felt like he was sleepwalking through the hours, his mind elsewhere. They did a history test, and when it was over Finn hardly remembered sitting it.
“How did you answer question seven?” a classmate, Tommy, asked him.
“Genghis Khan, I think,” Finn answered.
“Genghis Khan was the first person on the moon?” said Tommy, looking pretty disturbed that he might have got the question wrong.
The rest of school sort of drifted by, while Finn wondered why he even needed to be there any more. He was going to be a Legend Hunter, no matter how much Lucien tried to prevent it. That was his path, his destiny, and he’d already qualified for it through hard-earned, dangerous, explosive, unprecedented experience.
Why did it matter what year a battle took place that involved no Legends whatsoever? Why worry about the geography of the Asian continent unless a crater had been ripped in the ground by some rampaging creature from another world? These were civilian concerns, not those of a Legend Hunter.
On the way home, Emmie nudged his arm and smiled, as if trying to break through his gloom.
“We should get chips,” she declared as they walked down Broken Road. “Everything is better when you’ve a bag of chips in your hand. Except your breath maybe.”
“Lucien asked my dad to direct traffic if any Legends invade,” Finn said.
“Well, if they invade in the next half-hour we’ll stab them with the crunchy chips at the bottom of the bag,” she said.
She hurried past him and around the corner towards the neon glare of the nearby chip shop.
When Finn got there, Emmie was already inside, weaving through the hard plastic tables and chairs welded to the floor, her red hair aflame under the unnaturally bright light. Behind the counter stood a large man in a green short-sleeved uniform, with a hairnet gripped tight on his bald head.
“Chips please, Mario.” Emmie was sorting the change in her palm, counting how much she could afford.
“Give the money to me,” said Mario.
Emmie slapped the change on the counter and he worked through it with his thumbs.
“I’ll throw in a couple of onion rings and we’ll say nothing more about it.” Mario swept the money into his palm and shovelled raw slices of potato into a wide deep-fat fryer on his side of the counter. They hit the oil with a violent crackle.
“We’re getting onion rings,” Emmie shouted out to Finn, rubbing her hands.
“The lights in the cave under the cliff,” Finn said.
“What?” she asked, no idea what he was talking about.
Finn started to explain. “The flashes we saw. It’s more than just simple experiments …” He caught himself about to blurt something about his visit to the Infested Side, about Sulawan asking why someone was trying to open gateways, but decided against it. Not yet.
“Do you think the assistants might be trying to do something really dangerous?” he simply asked Emmie.
“Ask them yourself,” she said, leaning on the silver counter.
Finn looked back over his shoulder. Across the street, coming in their direction, were Scarlett and Greyson, the two assistants they’d seen head into the cave in the cliff.
Finn ducked behind the counter, and when Emmie didn’t follow he popped up, grabbed her by the shoulder and dragged her to where he was crouched.
“Oi!” protested Mario.
“Please, Mario,” begged Finn and gave him the best look of desperation he could muster. “Can we just wait here until those two go?”
At the mouth of the spitting deep-fat fryer, Mario considered the sight of Finn and Emmie crouching behind his counter before breaking into a sunburst smile and greeting the assistants as they arrived in.
“Hello, my friends,” Mario announced with immense jollity. “What can I get you fine visitors today?”
Emmie poked Finn in the ribs, and pointed towards the corner of the ceiling above them. There was a screen relaying security camera footage of the chip shop. Finn could see Scarlett and Greyson, fuzzy and black and white, from above. He watched them as they ordered.
“Chips,” Scarlett said. “Two bags.”
“The sherbet has been the only thing to work so far,” they heard Greyson say to her, continuing a conversation from outside, it seemed.
Mario shook the potatoes in the fryer while quickly catching the eye of Finn and Emmie crouched at his feet.
“But only for the briefest moment,” Greyson added.
“How many times do I have to ask that we don’t talk about such things in public?” Scarlett asked. “There are a lot of Half-Hunters around the world who would not be happy if they found out what we were doing.”
“Come on, don’t pretend it’s not all you think about,” said Greyson. “We’re so close to a breakthrough, yet so far. And if it is to work anywhere, it should be here.”
On the screen, Finn saw Scarlett sit at a table, and Greyson leaned in close to her to speak lower.
“But the results we’re hearing from elsewhere aren’t any different,” he said. “It’s frustrating that we’re not making progress.”
“Only if you get excited by the idea of risking your limbs in a battle,” Scarlett said, relaxing into the idea that no one but Mario was listening to their conversation.
“Don’t tell me you don’t.” Greyson grinned. “Why else would you be here, doing this, if not to escape the filing and reports and having nothing more dangerous to do than pare a pencil?”
Emmie looked at Finn, still unsure what the assistants were talking about. Finn knew full well. The gateways opening on the Infested Side. The flashes in Darkmouth. It added up to only one thing. They were experimenting with something very dangerous. They were in danger of opening up a door for Legends to pour through.
“Slotterton might give us better results tonight,” Grey
son said.
Finn’s eyes widened at the mention of Slotterton. What was it his mam had said? That it was an old Blighted Village? They must be planning on experimenting there too.
“We can try adding toffee there,” Greyson continued. “As long as that Gantrua Legend doesn’t explode or something on the way. Do you think it makes sense to carry him out of here?”
Emmie flashed Finn a look.
They’re moving Gantrua out of Darkmouth, he thought.
Emmie was frowning and he knew she was worrying about what might happen if Gantrua got loose, or fell into the wrong hands. Finn wondered how she’d react if she knew Finn had been asked to steal the desiccated Legend himself. That he could be those wrong hands.
“Since the reports that gateways opened yesterday, Lucien has been nervous,” said Scarlett. “He just wants that Legend out of here and taken to Liechtenstein where he can be studied more.”
“Do you want salt and vinegar on your chips?” Mario called out to them.
“Salt on one,” said Scarlett, steadying herself, suddenly reminded they weren’t alone. “Vinegar on the other.”
“We’ll do some preparation in the Dead House later, so we’ll be ready to just get straight to it at Slotterton,” Greyson said.
Mario dropped the two bags of chips on their table.
“Could we have two glasses of water to go with these?” Scarlett asked Mario.
“I wish you could,” Mario said to her, “but at the moment the water is all black and tarry. You’d be better off surfacing a road with it than drinking the stuff.”
Mario returned behind the counter where he gave just the quickest of glances at Finn and Emmie hiding low.
“The water problem again,” Scarlett said to Greyson, as if she had asked for the drinks only to test a theory.
“Just like the sap coming out of the trees during the experiments,” said Greyson.
They were silent for a moment, munching their chips, until Greyson spoke up. “Right, to more important matters,” he announced, turning to Mario. “Where’s your toilet, sir?”
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