The Boy Who Hatched Monsters Page 5

  ‘But Michelle, Richard …’

  ‘Up on a hill. We’ve got tonnes of time to get them out.’

  ‘I’ll keep watch. If the sea starts looking funny …’ Bladder said.

  ‘Call me,’ Daniel finished.

  Sam exhaled and when he inhaled, sleepiness came with it. He yawned. Relief was tiring.

  ‘Take Nugget with you.’ Wheedle pushed the little gargoyle at Sam. ‘Then the rest of us can take turns on guard duty.’

  Sam woke with a shrill burn filling his ears and head. He screamed with sudden, hot pain. The noise came from everywhere, as if it were in the room, on the street, and in his head too.

  The clamour went on and on.

  His practice of not eavesdropping had given him a lot of ear control, and normally he’d be able to drive loud sounds down and away a bit, but this cacophony was different. It was insistent and invasive.

  He jumped out of bed and Nugget slid into the soft space left by his body, sleeping soundly through it. Sam shoved his fingers into his ears as hard as he could. It muffled the drilling a little, but that was all. For some reason, he thought it was a song. He’d heard music many times: he loved singing himself, even though there were songs he didn’t like. When singers and musicians hit painful high notes it left him very unimpressed – the shifters too – but he’d come to realise those with human ears couldn’t hear the shrieking tones. This pained pitching made him think of those songs – sneaky notes, secret chords, a furtive melody that only an imp or a dog could hear.

  He forced his head into his mattress to smother the hideous noise.

  ‘Block it! Block it! Block!’ he yelled at himself, and it worked a little, enough for him to regain his own head.

  The piercing trill lessened. It didn’t disappear, but it softened and he could hear Beatrice’s cries through the walls.

  Soon his ears blocked the strange song altogether, although pain still brewed behind his eyes. The noise pricked at his skin, even as his ears refused it.

  He gave himself a few seconds to shake off the awful choir and right himself before he followed the cry to Beatrice’s room.

  Neither Michelle nor Richard was with her. How could they sleep through the noise?

  Beatrice had clambered to the side of her cot. She barely knew how to crawl and yet she was standing, holding the bars between clenched hands, doing her best to get one stumpy, lumpy leg over the top. It wasn’t working.

  What struck Sam most was the colour of her sparkles. She was shooting out strange, awful colours, frazzled reds and harsh oranges, like a fire alarm going off. Their sharpness made him duck as she flung them at him, but the sparkles hit no harder than normal, bouncing off and shooting back at Beatrice.

  For a moment Sam thought someone was calling his name, but then Beatrice spotted him and squawked, reaching for him with angry fists, losing her balance and tottering over the edge of the railing. Sam swept over and plucked her from the cot, meaning to comfort her, but she writhed and wriggled in his arms, a tough bundle of starter muscles and fat. She was winning the fight.

  When she wouldn’t stop twisting, he dropped rather than put her back in her cot. It made her more desperate to escape than he’d ever seen her. Her sparkles flew at him and her face grew redder and redder, her bellows doubling in fury. Sam patted her but stopped when she went to bite his arm with her new white teeth.

  Then the song grew more powerful. His ears still blocked it out, but his skin bristled with it; his bones vibrated as if he too were being played like a wooden instrument.

  Beatrice stared at him, her mouth and eyes wide and leaking. She wailed and then a gust of wind rushed past him towards his bedroom, and a door slammed.

  The wind stopped.

  As if there wasn’t enough noise, at that moment Bladder yelled for him from the ground floor.

  CHAPTER 5

  Sam lunged down the stairs, fell the last five steps, and managed to land on all fours like a cat-shaped gargoyle. The front door was open and the black shape of Bladder was framed in the doorway.

  ‘Sam!’ Bladder called out so loudly, Sam was sure it would wake Richard and Michelle. The gargoyle’s eyes were clenched shut. Sam saw him take a pipeful of breath and get ready to yell again.

  ‘What?’ Sam yelled back.

  ‘I’ve been screaming for ages.’

  ‘I’ve been distracted. I think Beatrice is trying to get out of the cot.’ Upstairs, Beatrice let out a frustrated wail.

  ‘She is,’ Bladder replied. ‘Come on!’ The stone cat raced into the street.

  Sam dashed after him.

  He stopped on the footpath and glanced about. There were young people everywhere: little children all the way up to high-schoolers not much older than Nick. Some carried babies in their arms and others were hardly more than babies themselves pattering barefoot down the road, thumbs in mouths, like a carnival or parade. They all marched in the same direction.

  Their eyes stared blankly, unblinking. Sam still didn’t know everything there was to know about humans, but he was pretty sure this was not normal behaviour.

  ‘What in the world … ?’ Sam stared about him. He felt very glad that he had shut the door to Beatrice’s bedroom before he’d run to answer Bladder’s call.

  ‘Oh, it gets better.’

  Bladder pushed through the crowd. Sam followed as the mob washed around him on their continued hike, and the song needled into Sam’s skull again.

  In the midst of the hypnotised mob, Nick, Spigot and Wheedle tussled on the road.

  A lump grew on Nick’s forehead, and he was punching his fists raw into Wheedle’s stone flanks, his face vacant and emotionless.

  ‘Stop fighting!’ Sam yelled at the mess of gargoyles and human boy.

  ‘Tell that to HIM!’ Wheedle said between oophs. ‘We’re trying to stop this idiot running off with the crowd. Look at them.’

  Bladder jumped in, pinning Nick’s wrists under his huge forepaws.

  They were high enough on the hill that Sam could see the multitude as they moved further down, heading south. Those nearer him tramped on after them. He jumped in front of a boy carrying a silent baby. The boy stepped around him. He clapped his hands right up close in someone’s face; the person did not blink. He grabbed the arm of one of the walkers, a girl of about ten. ‘Where are you going?’ he asked.

  The girl did not look at him, but she growled and twisted Sam’s wrist so hard he cried out.

  Nursing his hand, he faced the gargoyles still fighting Nick. ‘Do any of you know what’s happening?’

  Bladder replied with an ugh as Nick kicked him in the belly.

  Nick was bleeding and Sam was sure he heard something crack when the older boy kicked Bladder’s solid underside.

  As the crowd about them thinned away, the awful song softened too. Then other noises returned; ones Sam hadn’t realised he’d missed. Birds sang again, a bin clanged and a dog barked.

  Hoy Poy. He let out a relieved breath as he listened for Beatrice. She sounded content as she resettled herself. Michelle and Richard remained sleeping inside his home. The other noises he was used to – conversations humming behind doors, people starting their days, even the traffic on roads – those he couldn’t hear and he was trying. He shivered, as did the gargoyles. Nobody said a thing for a minute, and Sam’s skin broke into goosebumps.

  The only normal sound was Hoy Poy’s worried yap. The neighbour’s shivering pug raced out of his house. ‘She won’t wake up! Won’t wake up!’ he barked.

  Then Nick stopped fighting. He sat up and looked around, the distant expression gone from his face. He groaned and fell in a heap, his gaze suddenly alert and darting from Bladder to Wheedle to Spigot and back again. Sam realised Nick was going to have some nasty bruises and maybe some breaks from fighting three gargoyles.

  Spigot fell on his tail feathers next to Nick and let out a relieved shriek.

  ‘What’s happening?’ Wheedle asked.

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Sam, ‘but I think that sound is calling everyone down there.’

  Spigot garbled.

  Wheedle gulped.

  ‘What did he say?’ Sam asked.

  ‘Towards the sea,’ Bladder replied.

  An icy wind chilled him. Maggie had warned him about waves and a wet witches’ song, and now here they were. Watch them drown?

  He shuddered. Another cold gust blew at him, and he remembered he was wearing his pyjamas. No time to worry about that.

  ‘You need to find Daniel and get Nick inside. I’ve got to follow them.’ Sam pointed towards the mob.

  Bladder nodded at Sam. ‘Spigot, Wheedle, you put Nick back to bed.’

  ‘Check Beatrice too. And Michelle and Richard,’ Sam added.

  ‘Nugget?’ Wheedle cried out and looked to the house. ‘Did she … ?’

  ‘Fast asleep in my bed when I last saw her,’ Sam said.

  The stone bull exhaled. ‘Oh, thank—’

  Sam frowned. ‘The song didn’t bother her at all.’

  ‘Lucky her,’ Bladder said. ‘It’s not particularly pleasant.’

  Spigot screeched

  ‘True,’ Wheedle agreed. ‘If I hadn’t already been awake, I don’t think it would have got me up.’

  ‘It woke me, but I think it’s horrible,’ Sam said. He stopped himself. ‘But the humans seem to find it irresistible.’

  ‘Young humans,’ Wheedle amended.

  Yes, that had struck Sam too. ‘We’ve got to find out what those kids are doing.’

  ‘Right! You’ve gotta call Daniel.’ Bladder pointed at Wheedle. ‘Let him know we think those kids are heading to water. Useless bird-brain is probably watching the weather or expecting a tsunami to hit.’

  Wheedle shook his horns. ‘So were the rest of us, Bladder.’

  Bladder harrumphed.

  Hoy Poy’s whimper came from the neighbour’s house.

  Sam looked up at the noise. ‘Go see if Mrs Roberts is all right too, and give Hoy Poy a treat. Tell him to stay off the street.’

  Spigot squawked.

  Bladder stopped and sighed. ‘You’re not coming, Spigot. Whoever goes down there’s probably gonna get smashed, but I’m used to it.’

  Sam nodded. ‘Bladder’s right. If you’re watching my family, I’ll feel much better.’

  ‘Less talk, more run,’ Bladder said. ‘Climb on.’

  Sam clambered on to Bladder’s back and the pair galloped after the crowd. Sam peered back to see Spigot gently lift Nick from the ground and limp him back into the house. Then Bladder turned the corner, and Sam could no longer see his home. He listened to the hard click of stone footfalls running over asphalt and the horrible high notes that seemed to be drawing the children away. As they got closer to the crowd, the song got louder again.

  When Sam and Bladder broached the top of the next hill, they could see all the way to the shore.

  ‘Oh no,’ Bladder said.

  Sam groaned.

  The song was definitely a call to the sea. At the very head of the crowd, distant children were descending the blue-green steps leading to Brighton’s cobbled beach and wading into the water.

  Sam saw heads disappear under the waves.

  ‘They’ll drown,’ Bladder said.

  Sam nodded. He couldn’t say a thing. He thought he was going to be sick. Maggie had warned him.

  And the hideous sound went on and on and on.

  Sam studied the crowd. It moved with consistent tread towards its doom.

  Sam swallowed the acid tears that gathered behind his eyes. He wiped his nose on his sleeve and wondered how many children were walking to their deaths.

  Bladder kept running. He knocked into a few kids as he dashed among them. Some fell, going down hard, but they got back up again and shuffled forward. Bladder pushed on, getting between kids, darting and jumping over their heads to get in front of them. Sam didn’t know why. They couldn’t hold back this crowd any more than they could hold back the sea itself. Maybe one or two people, but there were thousands. And three gargoyles had struggled to hold Nick down. What could Bladder and Sam do against thousands, or tens of thousands?

  ‘If we can stop that horrible noise,’ Bladder said, as if he knew Sam’s fears, ‘we might be able to save most of them.’

  Sam was glad Bladder was thinking clearly, but to do that they had to find where the sound was coming from.

  It felt strange looking at those young, lifeless faces. As if they’d drowned already. Sam wondered why there were no adults. Like Wheedle said, it was just ‘young humans’.

  Sam gulped. ‘“Eat the children, swallow them down.”’

  ‘What?’ Bladder asked as he headed for the shore, following the high crooning notes.

  ‘It’s the …’ Sam saw a dark-haired boy shuffling southwards like all the other zombies. ‘Wilfred! Bladder, stop, I think I saw Wilfred,’ Sam cried as they raced by him.

  ‘We’ve got a better chance of saving him if we can stop the sound.’

  They hit Kings Road, the street that ran parallel to the shore, but the racket was coming from further out. Bladder raced towards the beach.

  ‘It sounds like it’s out at sea a bit. Let’s get to the end of Brighton Pier. It must be coming from there,’ Bladder said, and bunched his hind legs before launching himself up, hurdling over the locked gate and racing along the wooden boards.

  The pier creaked and complained; it bent and blamed under the weight of the gargoyle. The clamouring song grew no nearer. Sam watched over the railing to see children in endless rows pushing into the water. If they didn’t drown, they would freeze, all of them barefoot and in thin pyjamas and nighties, not a dressing gown among them. He wept to see a boy with a baby in his arms step up to his chest into winter-wild water.

  Bladder came to a stop and Sam slipped from his back. There was no one at the end of the pier. The rides hung with salt from the air and were covered in tarpaulins and ropes. Only a few lights remained on for security. A racket came from further out, further than Sam could see.

  There were no adults about, not one. No one who could help him stop even a few of the children, and they kept on walking into the water. How could they press on against the freezing waters? They couldn’t be awake. At least he could hope they didn’t feel anything.

  Bladder headed to the rail and put his paws up on the metal. His face twisted in a defeated grimace.

  He stood for a few moments staring over the waves. Sam called above the noise, wanting Daniel. His throat hurt as the salt from sea and tears mixed and burned his screams.

  Winter clouds greyed the sky.

  ‘Sam!’ Bladder yelled, breaking through his thoughts. ‘Look over there.’

  Sam peered down at the water.

  The sea was churning, full of active fish life, and among them …

  ‘Look there, Sam, a shark.’

  ‘Is it eating … ?’ Sam’s chest hurt from the cold pressing in on him. He hadn’t been aware how thin his pyjamas were, but the early morning wind bit, its teeth as strong as any ogre’s. ‘We’ve got to stop anyone else going in,’ Sam said.

  ‘Oh my.’ Bladder’s voice sounded hollow and distant.

  ‘Now, Bladder!’ He climbed on to the stone lion without asking, and Bladder ran back to the shore.

  Even close to the beach, the water churned. Sam squinted. His eyes were good in the dark. But this was dark, plus movement, plus a lot of water. He couldn’t make out any one thing.

  A boy’s head bobbed out of the foam. His black, vacant eyes peered at the shore. Sam’s fingers prickled. More high notes sallied in over the water and poked him, and the pins and needles were not just uncomfortable, they were painful.

  Bladder flew over the railing, then in quick strides lobbed on to the crowded beach. The mesmerised children continued to shuffle silently in the dark, the reflection of lamps and lines on the water giving them ghostly silhouettes. Bladder pushed through the kid-covered shore. And as many stepped into the water, others came along Kings Road to fill the space behind them.

  A large silver fish flipped out of the water and back in again, reflecting streetlight.

  ‘Do you think the animals’re here because of the song too?’ Bladder asked.

  Sam watched the children walk mechanically into the water. The fish slid and glided amongst the waves. ‘If they’ve been called here, it’s not to do the same thing as the kids.’ Sam watched the shark fins. He didn’t want to guess what the song was telling the fish to do.

  Sam saw another shark fin circle the water ahead of the walkers.

  He looked back at the lost faces bearing down on Bladder on the beach. They eddied around the lion gargoyle and his passenger.

  Sam watched the other defenceless children at the shoreline. A boy ducked underwater. When he came up again, his nose had extended. Sam blinked. It had grown very long and smooth.

  ‘Sam!’ Bladder said.

  Sam tore his stare away from the long-nosed boy.

  ‘Look at that,’ Bladder said.

  A small child lay in the water, forced forward by the next group of walkers. She pushed her arms into the cold sea in a smooth breaststroke. Sam saw her turn in the water, and where her arm should have been, a fin grew. The boy next to her slid under the waves and then stood again, his water-darkened hair clinging to his skin. A lump rose on his back, not a solid lump, a sleek and fine …

  Bladder saw it too, and pointed to the boy. ‘That a … shark’s fin?’

  ‘They’re all changing,’ Sam answered.

  Children dipped into the water and their pyjamas became scales. Blue scales, red scales, rainbow scales. Polka dots spattered to the natural dots of trout. Pink nighties became salmon. Larger children turned to larger fish, tiny children into schools of whiting. A boy over six foot tall slid into the water, which rippled underneath him. Sam followed the wake of the ripple; when it was not too far out a furred seal’s face erupted from the waves and moved further out to sea, the strange noise calling them on.

  ‘They’re not drowning,’ Bladder said.