“Tom?” she whispered.
The raven beat its wings and soared into the air. It passed over my head and stared down at me through terrified blue eyes.
Tom’s eyes.
“No one dies,” I remembered the Prankster saying, but he did not say in what form they would live.
Chapter Nine
Without warning, the ravens suddenly flocked together. They flew off with squawks of alarm.
I looked to see what had scared them and saw a thick black cloud moving in our direction.
It covered Anna and Jack before coming down on me. Wings brushed against my cheeks and sharp claws tangled in my hair. Bats! I glimpsed pointed fangs, and then the ground gave way beneath us.
The bats rose up into the sky as we fell down a steep hill.
The air was knocked out of me as I rolled over and over. At last, I stopped. There was a loud noise of rushing water.
I staggered to my feet and felt blood trickle down my face. It was hard to move but I had to keep going. I had to get to the beacon first.
I walked a few feet and stumbled over something. Looking down, I made out Jack’s pale face. “Here.” I held out my hand.
Jack stared past me at a new burst of sparks. Anna joined us, brushing the dirt off her clothes. She read out the words as they began to form.
“By stepping stones,
Or weeping tree,
is room for two,
but not for three.”
Anna narrowed her eyes. “Later, losers,” she said
She shoved us both aside and raced down to the edge of the river. On the opposite bank was a willow tree, which slowly bent until it stretched like a bridge across the water.
Anna splashed into the river. She grasped the tree’s branches and scrambled onto its trunk. She clung on as it slowly straightened, taking her to the opposite side.
I turned to Jack but he was no longer there. He was down by the river, balanced on the first of a row of stones. When he stepped onto the second stone the first sank under the water.
He glanced back at me. “I’m sorry. I can’t be stuck here, Scott. I just can’t do it.”
Panic rushed over me. I was going to be trapped in the game, just like all the others.
Chapter Ten
I plunged into the water. It was freezing cold. I fought against the strong current. White froth crashed over my head and I was dragged under the surface. My lungs felt as if they were about to explode. For a moment, I wanted to give in, to stop fighting and accept it was over.
Then the current let me go. I shot up to the surface. The opposite bank was near so I swam as hard as I could. I sobbed with relief when my hands touched the river bank. I dragged myself up onto the bank, and spewed out a mouthful of water.
I knew I should get up to chase after the others but my legs were too weak.
“Scott?” It was Jack’s voice. He sounded very scared.
I looked around. Jack was on the final stepping stone. Why didn’t he jump off?
Before I could ask, I heard Anna whimper. She was clinging to the tree trunk.
Making a huge effort, I got to my feet. My sodden clothes clung to me.
Jack and Anna stayed where they were. I glanced around. Maybe there was something lurking in the nearby bushes.
“Anna!” Jack yelled.
I turned back to Anna and saw her skin was turning dark. Her arms jerked above her head and twisted into the shape of branches. “Help me,” she moaned. “Please. . .” Her cries broke off as her face froze and she could no longer move her lips.
I stumbled over to her but my fingers touched rough bark. It was too late. Her body had taken on the form of the tree. The human shape of her could just be made out in the curves and twists of the wood. A faint breeze stirred through the branches, before whispering past my ear. “Don’t. . . leave. . . me.”
I bent over and threw up. When I finally stood up, I looked for Jack. He was up to his waist in the water.
“Jump to the bank,” I yelled, racing towards him.
The tears running down Jack’s cheeks glinted in the moonlight. “I can’t move,” he whispered.
By the time I reached the bank, he had sunk beneath the water. I dropped to my knees and stared down. Against the river bed I could just make out the faint shape of Jack’s body. I plunged my hand into the water but came back with nothing but a handful of silt. Through the murky water I could see what looked like two shining stones. I knew what they were. They were Jack’s eyes, staring upward at a sky that was forever out of his reach.
I felt a rush of hate towards the Prankster. I didn’t know how, but I was going to make him pay for what he’d done.
Above the mountain the light was beginning to soften. Dawn was about to break.
I had to get to the beacon.
But before I could move I heard a long growl.
I wasn’t alone.
Chapter Eleven
For a moment I considered jumping into the river. Then, I thought about what had happened to Jack.
I turned around and saw three huge black dogs.
Their mouths were open, showing long sharp teeth. They strained forward as if waiting for a signal to attack. Their eyes were small and mean and burned bright red.
Hellhounds.
A shower of sparks appeared above the dogs but, instead of forming words, the sparks settled on the ground to show a path for me to follow. The dogs’ ears flattened and they inched away from the glowing path. It was clear that they wouldn’t go anywhere near it.
I raised my foot to step on to the path. Then, I thought of something. Tom, Anna and Jack all got trapped in the game after deciding to save themselves.
Shaking with fear, I turned to face the dogs again and stepped towards them.
The dogs lunged forward, drool falling from their open mouths.
I squeezed my eyes shut, pointed my finger and yelled, “Get lost. Go home, now!”
I heard a faint whine. A moment later, I opened my eyes and saw the dogs trotting away, their tails tucked between their legs.
I’d done it! I had outwitted the Prankster. Now, all I had to do was get to the beacon before the sun appeared.
I climbed the mountain and tried not to think about the others. Somehow, I had to find a way of getting the Prankster to let them go.
The beacon came into sight. It was just a column of stone. I half ran, half stumbled towards it as the first glimpse of the sun appeared. I fell onto the steps at the base of the column and rested my face against the smooth stone.
I’ve done it. I’ve won.
At the foot of the column was a plaque. On it were the words, In memory of Charlie Hay. Missing. Aged 12.
A shadow fell over me. I turned and looked into the Prankster’s grinning face. “So, you won,” he said. “Want to choose your heart’s desire?”
My desire right then was to punch him in the nose. What had my friends and all the other missing kids from Redrock done to deserve being trapped in the Prankster’s world?
I jerked my head at the beacon. “What does Charlie Hay have to do with you?”
Under the painted grin, the Prankster’s lips twisted. “He has everything to do with me,” he replied. He put his face close to mine. “He is me.”
Chapter Twelve
“You’re Charlie Hay?” I asked. “How?”
“You mean to say that your father didn’t tell you?” replied the Prankster.
“He doesn’t know,” I said. How had Charlie Hay become the Prankster and made this world? “You vanished. What happened?”
The Prankster stared into the distance. “We all went up onto the moor one day. The others wanted to play dares. They were always playing tricks on me. I was the youngest and the smallest. When we got onto the moor, they dared me to put on a blindfold and walk forward. I fell into a bog and began to sink. That was the trick they wanted to play on me. I pulled off the blindfold and reached for an overhanging tree branch. I managed to pull myself out. I
wanted to get back at them. I wanted them to think I’d sunk all the way down into the bog, so I crept away.
I didn’t know that there was an old mine shaft nearby. The rotten boards that covered it broke under my weight and I fell through. When I landed I broke my leg. I couldn’t climb out. I could hear the others calling for me but they couldn’t hear me yelling back. In the end they went away. But instead of getting help, they left me. I believed almost to the end that they would come back. That they’d save me. . .”
I shook my head. My dad would never have left if he’d thought Charlie was still alive. Dad thought Charlie had been sucked into the bog. I wondered whether Dad and his friends had been too afraid to own up about what had happened to Charlie.
“And so,” the Prankster said, “over the years I’ve taken my revenge on all of the twelve-year-olds of Redrock.”
“You’re sick,” I told him. “Really sick.”
The Prankster narrowed his eyes. “No,” he told me. “I’m just clever. And I’m kind too. I never got a choice, but I’m going to let you have one. What’s your heart’s desire? What is it that you want?”
I want my friends back.
I want my sister to never get sick again.
I want you to go away forever.
I want to go home. . .
I knew I couldn’t choose any of them. I had worked out the twisted rules of the Prankster’s game. The moment anyone took the choice offered to them they were trapped by it. The only way to win was not to choose at all. There never was going to be the chance of winning my heart’s desire. But at least I had worked it out. At least I would rob the Prankster of another victim and beat him at his own game.
“I’m not going to choose anything,” I said. “And when I go home, I’m going to tell them everything. No one will ever be tricked into playing your game again.”
There was a long pause while the Prankster thought about my words. “Well now,” he finally replied, taking off his hat and placing it on my head. “Aren’t you the spoil-sport? Like father like son.” His eyes had an evil glint. “So,” he said in a sing-song voice.
“The game is done,
but who has won?
One thing’s true,
it isn’t you.
You made a choice.”
“No I didn’t,” I protested.
The Prankster tipped back his head and laughed. “You chose not to choose. Let’s see how you feel after you’ve spent time in my shoes.” He began to fade and as I reached out to grab him, my fingers connected with nothing but air.
I reached up to take off the hat but, as I did, I saw something red. I had large red clown shoes on my feet. I stumbled down the mountain, back to the river. I dropped to my knees and stared down at my image in the water.
It was then I realised I had lost everything. The Prankster had made sure I was trapped after all.
The last trick had been played on me. It wasn’t my reflection I was staring at.
It was a clown’s.
This electronic edition published in 2015 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
First published 2015 by
A & C Black, an imprint of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
50 Bedford Square, London, WC1B 3DP
www.bloomsbury.com
Bloomsbury is a registered trademark of Bloomsbury Publishing Plc
Copyright © A & C Black 2015
Text copyright © Beth Chambers 2015
Illustrations copyright © Sean Longcroft 2015
The moral rights of the author have been asserted
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ISBN: 978–1-4729–0953–4
ePub ISBN: 978–1-4729–0954–1
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