Daughter of the Storm

by Tina Callaghan

  Harry was last. He walked past them and went close to the glass. The girl turned towards him and Harry did a curious thing. He raised one hand as though to touch her face, and she responded by tilting her head towards his hand. Although there could be no contact, the gesture was given and received, and a blink later the girl was gone. Harry stayed looking out the window, then turned to face them.

  ‘The Hall is on fire.’

  There was nothing they could do. Jasmine could see that Harry was agitated, but he had no way of fighting a fire, even if it had been safe to go out in the storm with that girl out there. The lovely girl with the birdlike gaze was dangerous. As with Harry though, she had felt a magnetic pull towards her. In the end, it didn’t matter, because the fire burned itself out, or yielded to the storm. Either way, in flashes of lightning, the big house could still be seen, standing on the horizon.

  Becky was sitting in the kitchen in the soft glow of a candle. Matt shuffled in, wearing thick socks. The stove had died down and the house had started to cool. He threw dry sticks into the stove and opened the vents. It was still hot inside and the sticks caught as he stood there.

  ‘Electricity is gone,’ Becky said.

  ‘The generator is running though.’

  ‘I know. I just didn’t want to put the lights on,’ she said.

  He filled a kettle for tea and put it on the gas hob.

  ‘Can’t sleep?’

  She shook her head. ‘I still think we should have gone after Mam.’

  ‘I looked as much as I could, baby, without leaving you.’

  She nodded.

  ‘The baby is a good sleeper, isn’t he?’ Matt said.

  ‘I fed him and he went right back.’

  ‘Sorry I slept through it,’ he said, taking her hand.

  ‘That’s OK. I –’

  She didn’t get to finish her sentence. With the wind and rain clattering against the windows, the house wasn’t completely silent, but both of them jumped when they heard the noise. Something had thumped onto the roof.

  ‘A branch maybe,’ Matt said, although he was holding her hand as tightly as she was holding his.

  When a window at the front of the house smashed inward, she screamed. They both jumped to their feet, Matt heading for the window, Becky for the baby’s room. The baby was too quiet. Cold ran through her and she slapped at the light switches as she ran. Although it was a small house, she was in a nightmare where the corridor to the baby’s room was infinite. His door was open wider than she had left it. Becky’s childhood music box was playing its whirling waltz. It should have been closed on the dresser.

  She struck the light switch with her palm and ran to the cot, her foot hitting the music box where it lay open on the floor. The cot was empty. She turned and saw what she had run right past in her panic. The baby was awake but silent. His eyes, unable to focus yet, were wide open. Becky put her hands to her belly. She had felt his fear before, while he was still inside her. Now, she could see it.

  The girl, the creature, whatever she was, had the baby. She was cradling him in one pale arm, holding him close to her body. She was alien to the cosy room. White, sharp, somehow perfect. Becky looked down. What appeared to be a flimsy lace dress was long feathers. Her feet were concealed beneath, but as she swayed with the baby, Becky saw that they were bare and ended in talons. They stood in a tableau, with the music-box waltz winding slowly down.

  Later, Becky understood that she was deaf from the sound of her heartbeat in all her pulse points, pounding in her ears. Later, she remembered that her vision had narrowed, blackening at the edges as though she was blinkered. Later, she saw all the things she could have done, or tried. In the moment, she was overcome by adrenalin and rage. She launched herself across the small room, her hands out to snatch the child from the arms of the creature.

  Her bottomless horror and fury almost succeeded. She came within a hair’s breadth of seizing her baby. Instead, the girl brought up her free hand and struck Becky to one side. She hit the wall and her teeth snapped shut on her tongue. The iron taste of blood filled her mouth and she spat. The girl’s lips pulled back from her teeth.

  Then Matt was there, snatching the baby from the creature’s grasp. Shooting a desperate look at Becky he turned and ran, the baby’s silence and terror breaking into screams.

  Becky scrambled up, crying out at the pain between her legs as some of her stitches tore free. She ran at the girl, then swerved, her soft socks skating her past into the hall. It was a hopeless move, destined to fail. She had seen before how fast the other could move. She felt a sharp pain in her scalp, so real was the image in her mind of the girl’s hands grabbing her hair and yanking her back into the room. But, instead, she felt the wind of the girl passing over her in pursuit of Matt and the baby.

  Francis. That was his name. They had decided months before that if it was a boy they would call him after her father. A girl was to be named for Matt’s mother.

  Now, she knew that what her father had become was not his fault. It had been this devilish creature, this bitch who had taken him from them. Not just him. Since her mother had left the house as the first waves of the storm had made landfall, she had known that she too was lost.

  She got up, feeling like the floor was molasses. She ran to the kitchen. The door was hanging from one hinge. Someone had shoved the table so hard that the corner of it had knocked a hole in the plaster of the wall. Matt was lying on the ground, not moving. Becky stepped over him and ran into the night. The wind should have made it impossible to hear anything. But what she was listening to was the absence of sound from her child. That monster had him up there in the dark clouds, in the heart of the storm.

  Matt came to, feeling a monstrous throb of pain in his skull. She had thrown the table at him and snatched the baby from his arms as he fell. He must have hit his head. All he wanted to do was shut his eyes until the pain subsided, but a rush of cold air snapped him into full awareness.

  The baby!

  The front door was open.

  ‘Becky!’

  He got to his feet and the room wavered and spun around him. After a moment, the dizziness passed, and he lumbered to the door. Becky was running down the hill in her pyjamas.

  Outside, the world was dark and howling. A broken branch struck his shoulder and he raised an arm to protect his face from flying debris. Then he saw Becky spinning, looking skyward.

  He ran to her and wrapped his arms around her. She struggled but he held tight.

  ‘She’s got my baby! She’s got my baby!’

  ‘We’ll get him back!’ He was roaring the words to make himself heard.

  Becky tried to break free again. ‘Let me go!’ she screamed.

  ‘No!’ He held her tight. ‘We need help! We need the others! Come back to the house, love.’

  Becky stared at him, furious and desperate.

  ‘I need to get my bow,’ he said, ‘and you have to get some clothes and shoes on!’

  A shriek pierced the storm and they both turned their faces up to the rain.

  That monster was up there somewhere with their baby. Becky shook in his arms, rage rising through her like sap.

  ‘Hurry!’ She screamed the word at him and together they ran for the house.

  Twenty-Six

  The last I saw of Count Dracula was his kissing his hand to me, with a red light of triumph in his eyes, and with a smile that Judas in hell might be proud of.

  Bram Stoker, Dracula, 1897

  Jasmine couldn’t sleep. Dawn couldn’t be far away. She got up and opened a small window to let some air in and immediately heard the crash of the waves followed by a terrible booming noise. She shut the window against it. If anyone had still been sleeping, they weren’t any longer.

  ‘It’s the blowholes,’ Ed said, from where he lay, his eyes still closed.

  Lia sat up.

  Ed sat up beside her, yawning.

  ‘They’re holes in the rock that go down to caves and when the se
a goes in, it shoots up and makes a booming noise,’ Lia said.

  ‘Oh. Your father told me about them, but I didn’t expect the noise to be so …’

  ‘Boomy?’ Lia said.

  Jasmine laughed. ‘Yes, boomy.’

  With everyone awake early, tea seemed to be called for and they sat in front of the replenished fire and Jasmine noted how they all, including herself, looked to Harry for leadership.

  ‘The storm has eased, but there’s worse to come. I think we should try running a boat across with whoever wants to go.

  ‘Is it safe to go out?’ Jasmine said.

  Harry cast a haunted look at the window. ‘It’ll be light soon. I think it’ll be OK. It won’t be a smooth crossing though. I’ll go down to the village to see what boats are in.’

  ‘It’s still nighttime,’ Jasmine said, frowning.

  Harry stood up, too restless to finish his mug of tea. ‘It’s not really dark anymore. Look, it’s starting to go grey. Stay inside, just in case. I won’t be long. You won’t be able to take much so put together what you can’t do without.’

  He turned to go but paused.

  ‘Be ready. I might be in a hurry when I get back.’ With that, he shrugged on his coat and went out, leaning into the wind.

  Ed tied his bootlaces. ‘I’ve got to get to the farm to check the house.’

  ‘I’ll come with you,’ Lia said.

  Jasmine stood up. ‘Lia, you are not going out there.’

  ‘Mom, we’ll be quick. I promise.’

  Jasmine took her hand. ‘I can’t lose you.’

  ‘You won’t. I’ll be with Ed. And Harry is right. It’s getting brighter.’

  Lia gave her hand a squeeze, as though Jasmine were the child. Then she and Ed pulled on jackets, their faces lit up with the excitement of getting out into the wind, together, despite the horrors of the night. It was easy for them to cast aside nightmares when morning came. Still, Jasmine saw them check the wild sky before they left the shelter of the pub.

  When they were all gone, the pub seemed to fade twenty years into the past. There was very little to show that time had moved along at all. Suddenly, her thoughts were not of Harry and these strange new feelings. She could clearly see memory’s echo of her young self, with her new husband, his hair as fiery as his temper, as hot as his passion. She shook herself and sorted through her bag for a few cosmetics, her hairbrush and her credit card, then sat uneasily in front of the fire, waiting for someone to come back to her.

  It was great to be out in the wind. The storm had flung a few things around, but it all had the look of a poltergeist storm, more mischievous than malevolent. Harry thought that there was a bigger storm to come and Ed agreed. Still, being out together in the whirling, salty air, with the wind snatching their breath and making them laugh, was suddenly the best place to be. It felt to Lia like she was being as alive as anyone could be.

  They sobered up when they reached the driveway of the farm. It was too close to the Hall.

  Together, they turned off the power and closed shutters, sealing the place up as tight as they could to help the house ride out whatever the winter brought.

  Outside again, Ed moved anything that could be lifted and dropped, tying gates more firmly shut so that they wouldn’t be broken from their hinges. When he was satisfied with everything, he rested his hand briefly on the outside wall of the farmhouse. The gesture was goodbye. Lia gave him a moment, turning to look across the yard at the barn.

  Something moved, attracting her attention. She frowned. She knew next to nothing about birds but this bird, sitting on a tree growing against the yard wall, looked distinctly out of place. She watched it, hoping it would still be there when Ed was ready to go.

  It didn’t move much, just shifting slightly with the occasional gust of wind in the sheltered yard. It was a soft grey, almost white, and the wind was playing with the feathers on its chest.

  Ed took her hand and she squeezed his fingers.

  ‘Look,’ she said, nodding in the direction of the bird.

  Ed frowned.

  ‘Do you see it?’ Lia said.

  ‘Yeah, but I shouldn’t be seeing it.’

  ‘Why not?’ Lia said. ‘Is it rare?’

  ‘Typical Strigidae, genus Megascops. European Screech Owl. Nocturnal.’

  ‘Nocturnal?’ Lia said. ‘What’s it doing out now then?’

  ‘Don’t know. It’s not right. Maybe it’s sick.’

  He walked slowly across the yard at an oblique angle. When he got closer to the owl, he stopped and looked carefully up at it. Lia saw his hand move towards the camera that no longer hung around his neck. He checked the movement and stared up for a long time and the bird appeared to stare back at him. When Ed came back to her, he looked odd.

  ‘Does it look sick?’ Lia asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Looks good. Beautiful actually. Really beautiful. Come on, let’s get out of here.’

  They set off down the drive again. Lia screamed when she heard a shriek behind her. The owl was flying, almost touching their heads as it swooped over, climbing with the wind into one of the stunted trees that were dotted here and there along the farm wall.

  ‘What’s it doing?’ Lia asked.

  ‘I don’t know!’ His voice was abrupt, almost unfriendly.

  They walked on as fast as they could, leaning into the wind that howled up from the cliff edge.

  Lia didn’t look back but was convinced the owl was following them, battling the conditions to keep them in sight. Finally, in sight of the pub, she couldn’t stand it any longer and whirled around. Nothing. When she turned back, she saw Harry outside the pub. He raised a hand, beckoning urgently, then went inside. Ed took Lia’s hand and they hurried on.

  At the door, Ed gave her a quick kiss on the cheek.

  ‘Sorry I snapped at you back there. I didn’t mean to. The bird was freaking me out.’

  ‘Me too. It stopped following us though.’

  ‘No, it didn’t.’

  ‘Yes, just before we saw Harry, I looked for it and it had gone.’

  ‘Lia, it stayed with us the entire time. I was watching it,’ Ed said.

  They stared at each other and a shiver ran through Lia.

  ‘That’s so creepy.’

  Ed looked behind him and then ushered her inside. ‘It’s still right there. Plain as day.’

  ‘Oh my God, that’s messed up.’

  The others looked up at them. Harry was back and Matt and Becky had arrived. Becky was white. She had been crying but Lia had never seen anyone who looked so filled with fury.

  ‘What’s happened?’ Lia asked. ‘Is Rose OK?’

  ‘Rose left late yesterday afternoon. We haven’t seen her,’ Matt said. He was holding Becky’s hand, their fingers white-knuckled. He was carrying a weapon Lia had never seen before, but that she recognised as a crossbow.

  ‘That thing, that creature took my baby,’ Becky said. ‘I’m going to kill her.’

  ‘A Strix – that’s what Brendan called it,’ Lia said.

  ‘Whatever the bloody thing is called, we’re going to the Hall,’ Matt said. ‘We need all the help we can get, but if you’re leaving, we’ll still go.’

  ‘We can’t leave,’ Harry said. ‘I checked the harbour. It’s pretty rough, but it wouldn’t matter if it was like glass. Someone set the boats adrift. Some are wrecked and the rest are missing. We’re not going anywhere.’

  ‘We,’ Becky said with emphasis, her voice deepened and hoarse, ‘are going to find my baby.’ She stood up, pulling her hand free, and looked at her husband. ‘I know what you’re all thinking. Even you, Matt. You’re thinking that my baby, my son, is dead. That she took him and did something to him.’ She glared around at them, daring any of them to contradict her. ‘I know he’s alive. I would feel it if he wasn’t. He’s alive and I’m going to find him. You can come to help, or you can go to hell.’

  She pulled her coat around her and pushed past Lia, pulling the door back
and leaving it wide open. Matt grabbed his weapon, crossed the floor in a couple of strides and ran after his wife.

  Jasmine hurried towards the door and Lia joined her. Harry and Ed followed. She saw Ed looking at something in the sky that she couldn’t see and her skin crawled. Either only Ed could see the bird watching them, or Ed had gone crazy. After the last couple of days, either could be true. She grabbed her mother’s arm and was glad to feel her return the squeeze.

  ‘Mom, what are we doing?’

  Jasmine shook her head. ‘All I know is that I can’t let that girl go to face the monster that took her baby without help. I would do the same as her, and I hope someone would help me.’

  ‘Are there other people on the island, Harry?’ Lia asked. ‘Did you find anyone?’

  Harry answered. ‘The people who run the little shop are there, but they’re not moving. There’s a couple of other families, but they wouldn’t answer the door.’

  A gust tried to lift them off their feet. Jasmine and Lia screamed but managed to stay upright. The sea was slate-grey, topped with rushing white crests. The scudding clouds of earlier had gathered and darkened. As Lia watched, lightning forked at the heart of the cloud mass and, as though the electricity had torn the sky, heavy rain started to fall again. It felt like night was falling, despite the time.

  Their little cortege tightened up until they were walking in a bunch. Lia didn’t know if this was a good or bad idea with lightning flashing all around them, but no one wanted to walk alone. The worst was when they were huddled together, hurrying up the driveway to the Hall. It was the last place in the world that Lia wanted to rush towards, but they had to get under some sort of cover.

  It was hard to see through the dark veil of rain, but it was impossible to miss the huge patch of burned ground where there had been a fire. There was an untouched strip of weedy gravel between the burnt ground and the house, as though there had been some sort of firewall. It cut a straight line across the front of the building. Only the front door of the house had been scorched.