‘He doesn’t understand,’ Jessie said.
She was right about that. Jessie’s Dad did seem slow to grasp what was going on, even by human standards.
Jessie’s Dad picked him up and carried him back into the house. ‘Thank goodness we’ve only got to wait until Wednesday for obedience class.’ He put Storm down in the middle of the floor and Jessie set the silver bowl down next to him.
Meaty chunks! Good. You are making some progress, but obedience class will help you improve faster. Hey! You’ve shut the door again!
CHAPTER 12
The rest of the day sped by. In school, Jessie struggled in Welsh class, but history was quite fun. The main challenge was learning everyone’s names. By the end of the day, her head was spinning with them.
Meanwhile, Storm escaped from the back room again and explored the bedrooms, especially the wardrobes – he’d heard that they could lead to strange places in the Otherworld, but they all appeared quite ordinary, full of more of the humans’ flimsy clothes. As night fell, Jessie sat in bed, sketching pictures of London streets, while Storm snored and twitched by her feet.
Elsewhere, on the trio of mountain peaks that surrounded Abergavenny, sheep wandered, sometimes tugging up mouthfuls of grass, but mainly just watching. Usually there wasn’t much to see at night, only the trees moving in the wind and the occasional car on the roads around the mountains. Tonight, however, there was the added spectacle of three men stumbling up and down the oblong peak of the Blorenge mountain.
Professor Utterby tucked his scarf into his overcoat and shivered. Nuffield stumbled along behind, clutching a sheaf of maps while, several paces ahead, Ryston, wearing a yellow waterproof over his rabbit sweater, paused each time his divining rods twitched.
‘Anything?’ Utterby asked as Ryston stopped again.
Ryston stood for a moment then shook his head. ‘The problem is the Welsh mountains are dappled all over with elemental magic and the rods pick up every trace. Next time, we should choose somewhere more ordinary.’
‘We didn’t exactly choose the spot,’ Professor Utterby pointed out.
Divining rods were useful tools, and far more accurate at locating objects than Nuffield’s maps. Professor Utterby had hoped that after Nuffield had given them the general location Ryston could take over the search. But his divining magic only worked with short distances. It had been pure luck that Ryston had detected a trace of Otherworld magic near the Dog Rescue Centre. Since then, they’d scoured every inch of these mountains and found nothing.
Of course, the problem might be Ryston himself. He was the youngest and the least experienced of them all. He’d only become a full professor this year, and then only because he’d nagged Professor Utterby into it. In centuries gone by, there’d have been twenty different exams, practical tests and you’d have to complete your own area of special research before you could even become a Doctor of Magic, let alone a Professor.
‘Maybe we should split up,’ Nuffield suggested.
Professor Utterby snorted. ‘And if you find the stormhound on your own, how exactly will you capture it? Or are you hoping we’ll deduce the creature’s location from your remains?’
Ryston sat down, breathing hard. ‘You know the tears of a stormhound are supposed to cure all injuries? Does that include asthma?’
‘Probably,’ Professor Utterby said distractedly. ‘We’ll give it a try and see, if you like.’ He heard a sound behind him and swung round with a yelp of alarm, half expecting to see a giant hound creeping up on him, but it was only a sheep. ‘Yes, very clever,’ Utterby said, flapping his hands at it.
How could a giant hound have disappeared so thoroughly?
As the professors made their way down the Blorenge, a pair of white hares bounded up to an orange-and-black motorbike that stood beside a hedge at the foot of the Sugar Loaf mountain on the other side of town. The air shimmered and the two hares became two people.
David pulled grass out of his hair. ‘I’ve missed that. We should do it more often.’
His aunt frowned. ‘I raised you to be a boy, not a wild animal, Morfran. Please act like it. We use magic when necessary, not for our own amusement.’
David fought the urge to scratch himself with his back leg. He liked being a boy: it was useful to be able to stand up straight, and of course thumbs were really good. But as a boy, he couldn’t run nearly as fast, and his hearing and sense of smell weren’t as sensitive. Anyway, if Ceridwen wanted him to be a boy, why did she keep calling him by the name she’d given him when she’d found him as a hare all those years ago?
‘Why can’t you just go and zap the professors?’ he asked. ‘You said they’re black magicians, right? So whatever they’re doing must be something to do with black magic.’
Ceridwen gave him a look halfway between amusement and irritation. ‘I do not “zap” people. You don’t know the professors like I do. They’ve always been dabblers in dark magic. An occasional nuisance rather than a serious threat. When they went quiet two years ago, I thought they’d finally given up. And now they’re back.’
Back, and searching the mountains. David pulled another piece of grass from his hair and nibbled it. ‘The question is, then, what were they doing for those two years?’
‘Exactly,’ his aunt said, nodding. ‘They’ve discovered something, that much is clear. It must be something big to draw them all here – some powerful artefact that’s lain here for centuries. It may even be a bigger danger than the professors themselves.’
A powerful artefact sounded like fun, though David didn’t say so. He knew what Auntie Ceridwen would think of that, and he could imagine the lecture she’d give him on the safe and proper disposal of magical objects. He followed her back to the bike and picked up his helmet in silence.
‘You’ll just have to get closer to the professors tomorrow,’ Ceridwen said. ‘That girl too. I checked the camouflage spells on the bike and they’re all working. She should not have seen me. Talk to her again.’
‘And say what?’ David asked. ‘I don’t think she likes me.’
‘Then try harder. Be friendly. Pretend you’re an ordinary boy who’s just started school. We need answers.’
Another day in school. David sighed. It ought to be exciting, protecting the world from dark magic. Why did he always have to do the boring jobs?
CHAPTER 13
The second day at school didn’t feel quite so strange as the first. Jessie knew the layout of the building now, so it was easier to find her way around. She was starting to remember names too. Charlotte and Megan on the desk next to her, and Prisha who’d said hello a few times. She’d tell Dad about it later, and make it sound like she was happily making new friends. He’d like that. Mum too – she’d phoned this morning while Jessie was getting ready for school and the first thing she’d asked was whether Jessie was making friends. As if you could replace all your old friends in a single day.
‘Jessica Price, are you paying attention?’ the teacher asked.
Jessie jumped and sat upright. ‘Sorry.’ She had no idea what he’d just asked.
‘He wants to know when Shakespeare wrote Macbeth,’ David said, beside her. ‘The answer is 1606.’
The teacher frowned. ‘I didn’t ask you, David.’
David glowered. ‘What’s his problem?’ he whispered to Jessie. ‘He wanted to know the answer so I told him. I was trying to help.’
Jessie smiled despite her annoyance. ‘You’re supposed to let other people answer.’
‘But that would take twice as long.’ He folded his arms and sighed. ‘This place is stupid.’
Jessie ignored him until the bell for break rang and everyone scrambled up. She started to follow people outside but felt a tug on her sleeve.
‘Wait,’ David said.
Jessie paused in surprise. ‘What?’
‘Nothing.’ He scooped his bag up and stood, shifting from one foot to the other. ‘What exactly are we supposed to do at breaktime? It was a bit con
fusing yesterday with everyone rushing about.’
‘We’re not supposed to do anything. That’s why it’s called a break.’ Jessie grinned. ‘You weren’t joking when you said you hadn’t been to school before, were you?’
He shrugged uncomfortably. ‘Auntie Ceridwen normally teaches me herself. She says it’s more efficient.’
Jessie imagined the stern-faced woman standing at the front of a class consisting only of David. It didn’t sound much fun to her. ‘What does your aunt do for a living?’ she asked. ‘My dad’s an accountant. He’s just started work with the council.’ She put out a hand to stop him. ‘You’re going the wrong way. We’re supposed to go outside for break – it’s in the school rules.’
David flicked his hair back. ‘I have enough rules from my aunt. Anyway, what’s Mr Heron going to do? I’m not going to be here long.’
He said it defiantly and scowled, but it was the sort of way Ben talked when he was pretending everything was all right.
‘What kind of job means you have to move about all the time?’ she asked. ‘Can’t your aunt get something in one place and stay there?’ Whatever she does, seeing as you still haven’t told me.
David gave a short laugh. ‘She’d go mad stuck in one place. We arrive somewhere, stay just as long as we need to, then Auntie Ceridwen will be off somewhere else, and I go with her. I guess it might be nice having somewhere to call home, but it’s a waste of time wishing for something you can’t have.’
Like how she’d longed for a dog, or the way she wished she were back in London. Jessie sighed. Dad had hoped Storm would make her feel at home here, but it hadn’t worked. She loved Storm, but in some way it had made things worse because now half of her wanted to stay with Storm forever, and the other half wanted to go back home, to London, with Mum and all her friends.
Still, maybe she could start making friends here. ‘We’ve got IT next,’ she said. ‘Do you want to sit together?’
Then she stopped because Professor Utterby came out of a classroom, wiping his hands on his jacket. A little trail of smoke followed him. He paused when he saw Jessie and David, his eyebrows jumping.
‘Good morning, Professor Utterby,’ Jessie said. ‘Did you know your jacket is on fire?’
‘Is it?’ He patted at it until the smoke disappeared. ‘You want to go outside to play.’
It wasn’t a question, or even a statement. It was a command. And, Jessie found, she really did want to go outside. For a moment or two, the feeling was overwhelming. She turned round and was halfway to the school doors before she knew what was happening. She paused and looked back. Professor Utterby had gone, and so had David.
David was already in the computer lab when Jessie arrived, sitting at a table by the window and staring out. Following his gaze, Jessie saw Professor Ryston walking to and fro in the car park, holding something that glinted – those pieces of metal Jessie had seen in his pocket before.
‘What’s he doing?’ she asked.
‘No idea.’ David kept watching, his gaze following Professor Ryston’s path up and down.
Jessie sighed and turned on the computer. They were supposed to be designing a poster for the school’s Autumn Fayre, something she should have loved doing, but she couldn’t concentrate. She glanced around to make sure no one was watching her, then she opened the web browser and typed in ‘Bangor University’.
The site came up straight away. Jessie started searching through the various pages, looking for any mention of the professors. They’d said they were on secondment from Bangor.
But there was nothing. No photos, nothing on the list of lecturers, no mention of any secondment scheme. The website might be out of date, of course, but somehow Jessie didn’t think so. Yet if the professors weren’t from Bangor, where were they from? She nudged David.
‘What?’ he asked.
‘I’m trying to look up the professors online and I can’t find a thing about them. Don’t you think that’s odd?’
‘Not really. Not everyone is online.’ He went back to staring out of the window.
He was wrong: there ought to be something. Jessie frowned at the screen. Professor Nuffield had been talking about the Wild Hunt and Mount Skirrid in geography class yesterday. Maybe he was an expert on that. Jessie opened another web browser and looked up ‘Skirrid Mountain’. There were various legends about the mountain, but none of them mentioned the Wild Hunt or the Hounds of Annwn. Professor Nuffield wasn’t such an expert, after all. She found some pictures of the Wild Hunt, though – riders on horseback surrounded by hunting hounds, racing through the sky.
Jessie paused and glanced sideways at David. He was still watching Professor Ryston through the window.
‘Why are you so interested in the professors?’ she asked. ‘You ran off right after Professor Utterby spoke to us earlier too. Were you hiding from him?’
David jerked his gaze from the window. ‘Forget about the professors, all right?’
He moved into the next seat away from her and turned on the computer, although he still kept looking out of the window. At one point, Professor Ryston looked up and David shrank back as if he didn’t want to be seen.
Jessie tried to ignore both of them but she couldn’t. Something just felt wrong and she couldn’t explain why. David’s aunt was called Ceridwen, wasn’t she? Jessie doubted anything would come up, but she typed in the name anyway.
The very first entry read:
Ceridwen is an enchantress from Welsh legend. According to the Tale of Taliesin, she had a son called Morfran who was hideously ugly.
Ceridwen, wanting to give her son great wisdom, brewed a potion. It took her a year and the mixture had to be stirred constantly. She employed a young boy to do it, but at the end of the year, while he was stirring, three drops of potion splashed on to his hand and he licked them off. Immediately he gained all the wisdom meant for Morfran.
‘Now what are you looking at?’ David asked, looking over.
Jessie closed the web browser quickly. ‘Nothing.’
She went back to designing a poster. So David’s aunt was named after a Welsh enchantress. And his surname, Morgan, was only a couple of letters away from Morfran. Was that the name Mr Heron had been trying to read when he’d said David Morgan? But what did that have to do with the professors?
Nothing, she told herself. She was inventing mysteries to pass the time.
But then, right at the end of the day when everyone was leaving, Jessie saw David doubling back through the school doors. She paused.
What’s he doing?
He’d probably forgotten something. She should mind her own business. If he wanted to get into trouble, it was up to him.
On the other hand, she didn’t have to hurry home. Ben had football practice, Dad would still be at work and Storm wouldn’t mind waiting a few minutes. Anyway, David shouldn’t keep disappearing and behaving so mysteriously if he didn’t want to be followed.
Jessie ran back into the school. She saw David almost at once, walking down a corridor. She hid round the corner and watched. This was silly. There were any number of reasons why he’d go back into school.
David stopped outside a classroom, put his hand to the closed door and then he leaned in and sniffed it.
All right – maybe there weren’t many reasons for that. Jessie shifted her weight from foot to foot, wondering whether to ask what he was doing, but before she could decide what to do the door opened.
David jumped back, rubbing his nose as Professor Ryston emerged.
‘What are you doing, boy?’ he asked. ‘What’s your name?’ He looked closer. ‘Have I seen you before?’
‘No, I don’t think so,’ David said, backing away.
Jessie’s heart thumped. David really looked scared of the professor.
‘He was waiting for me,’ Jessie said, stepping out of hiding. ‘We’re going back to my house for tea. I was, um, using the toilet.’ She ran and grabbed David’s arm. ‘Come on,’ she said, pulling him away. �
��Dad’s waiting outside. And I can see Mr Heron.’
She couldn’t see Mr Heron at all – she just hoped Professor Ryston would let them go if he thought the head was coming. She was right. He stepped back away from them.
‘I’ll be keeping an eye on you,’ he said.
That was almost what David’s aunt had said yesterday morning but somehow Professor Ryston made it sound a lot more threatening. Jessie nodded and fled, towing David behind her. They didn’t stop until they were outside the school.
‘What were you doing?’ Jessie asked.
‘Nothing.’ David pulled his arm free. ‘Why are you so nosy?’
‘Because you won’t tell me what’s going on. You know who the professors are, don’t you? You and your aunt.’
David laughed. ‘What makes you think that?’
‘The fact you were just spying on Professor Ryston, for a start.’ She folded her arms and stared at him. ‘Did you know your aunt’s named after a Welsh sorcerer?’
His cheeks turned pink. ‘An enchantress, actually, but yes. She’s proud of it. Why?’
‘No reason. It’s just interesting. You know, with Professor Nuffield being interested in legends, and you being interested in the professors. Everything feels out of place here and I don’t like it.’
David gave a weak smile and brushed a hand across his hair. ‘Now you sound like Auntie Ceridwen. Everything has its proper place and that’s where it should stay.’
‘The world doesn’t work like that, though, does it?’ Jessie said. ‘My proper place is in London. Where’s yours?’
She didn’t think anyone had ever asked David that before. He blinked at her in confusion, then looked down at his feet. It was moment before he answered.
‘I haven’t got one.’
He sounded forlorn, all of a sudden: lost – the way Storm had looked in the shelter.
‘Do you really have to go straight home?’ Jessie asked. ‘You can come for tea if you like. You can tell your aunt you were keeping an eye on me.’
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