‘Are you training to be a librarian?’
‘Ha ha,’ Melissa retorted sarcastically.
Because it was just outside school hours, there was a queue of kids lined up outside the post office – the shopkeeper was being as rigid as always about his ‘two schoolchildren at a time’ rule. Callum was uncomfortable about hanging about, but a few moments probably wouldn’t hurt. They were still in a public place after all. Even if Ed turned up, the shopkeeper wouldn’t let a fight take place on his stretch of pavement without calling the police. He’d done it before.
But still, it wasn’t easy to stand about in the street when you knew there was a shape-shifting monster tailing you. The tingling in his hands had faded since the nightmare chase through the school corridors, but it hadn’t gone away entirely. Callum felt sure that the creature was as hot on his trail as Ed. He looked around as he waited, searching the faces up and down the line of uniformed students. He saw nothing out of the ordinary, no face he didn’t recognise, all of them living and none of them his.
Callum wasn’t even aware he had heaved another sigh until Melissa patted him kindly on the shoulder.
‘Cheer up, it’s our turn next.’
The little shop seemed empty after the jostling crowd in the street. Callum slouched by the cold drinks cabinet where he could keep an eye on the kids passing by outside. There was still no sign of Ed, or Callum’s phantom double.
‘I’m finished,’ Melissa said, appearing at his shoulder. She held out a Mars bar. ‘Got you a chocolate bar.’
Callum forced a laugh. ‘Typical girl – you think chocolate cures everything!’
‘Can’t hurt. Come on, let’s get to the library before the enemy turns up.’
The shopkeeper-turned-bouncer stepped back to let Melissa and Callum past on their way out and beckoned to the next pair of lucky shoppers, growling the unnecessary warning: ‘Two. Two of you only.’
The bell above the door chimed as Callum opened it, and as if in answer, the Friday afternoon was shattered by a piercing scream of agony.
Chapter 16
The Hunter walks among the living crowd, wearing the face of its chosen victim.
Rage burns though its inhuman veins. The Hunter had its prey within its grasp, only for the victim to slip through its fingers again. What is it about this boy? He is different from the others: more cunning, more elusive. And oh, so much more powerful. The Hunter yearns to feed on that power.
It is too hungry to wait any longer. There is another chime child whose nourishing spirit the Hunter can trace. It is not as strong as the boy whose face the Hunter wears. It is one of those weaker beings born close to dawn, hardly aware of their own abilities. It will not be a satisfying meal. But it will strengthen the Hunter for the longer chase to come.
Here, now, the other victim approaches – the feeble, fearless one, escorted by another boy. Its fury still boiling within it, the Hunter confronts the human, smiling its borrowed smile.
‘Look! It’s Scott, just waiting for you, Ed! And grinning like a dope. Hey Scott, been looking for us?’
‘I guess you got my message, Scott,’ says the one that will make a nourishing morsel, with a nasty smile of its own. ‘Thanks for waiting. You coming for a chat with us? We want to hear about your freaky girlfriend. And your gyppo gran.’
The angry words mean nothing to the Hunter. It can use human speech if such speech serves a purpose, but its purpose now is simply to feed. It savours the moment when its victim stands willingly within reach, so foolishly unafraid.
‘Answer me, Scott!’
A fist whips out. The Hunter brushes the flimsy hand aside.
‘Come on, Ed, don’t do it here. Let’s take him along to the engine shed and give him a kicking.’
The Hunter is too hungry to toy with its prey any longer. In an instant, faster than either of the mortals can react, it attacks. Its claws rake the boy’s throat, biting into the warm flesh. Red blood sprays like a fine mist, the salt taste seeking out the Hunter’s lips. The boy staggers back, his eyes wide now with terror.
It is almost an invitation.
The Hunter leaps forward. The boy collapses beneath the onslaught. Now the Hunter is on his chest, its talons seeking those glistening orbs, piercing the pupils and sinking into the jelly.
The boy screams once, in terror and agony, as the meal begins.
Chapter 17
Callum and Melissa raced towards the cry.
Why am I running towards the screaming? thought Callum fleetingly.
Then he knew. Memory battered him from all sides – the sense of urgency, the terrible shriek of agony suddenly cut short, the knowledge that he had come too late, and -
And a boy lying slouched against the brick wall with dripping bloody holes where his eyes should be.
But not an unknown boy this time.
Ed Bolton.
He lay broken and disfigured, his face a river of bloody tears leaking from the empty sockets. Ed’s second-in-command, Baz, was backed against the wall beside the body. He was weeping his own tears of terror, and he had been sick all over the road. Now he looked up at Callum and started screaming.
‘Don’t come near me! Don’t come near me! Get away from me!’
Paying absolutely no attention, Melissa ran forwards with outstretched arms, instinctively offering help.
‘No, no, you crazy witch, get away!’
Baz scrambled backwards away from Melissa, but slipped on his own vomit and went sprawling into the pool of blood that was slowly spreading across the pavement. He screeched again and tried to claw himself to his feet against the wall without having to touch Ed’s lifeless body. Melissa reached him and offered her hand; Baz shoved her back into the road. Callum stepped between them.
He glanced swiftly at Ed and felt his own stomach lurch at the sight of the glistening, bloody eye sockets.
How had it happened – in broad daylight, here in Marlock, barely outside the school gates? How? He turned away from Ed’s ruined face and asked Baz in desperation, ‘What happened?’
‘What happened?’ Baz repeated wildly, frantically trying to wipe Ed’s blood off his hands. ‘What do you mean, what happened? You freakin’ murderer! You killed him!’
Baz stopped suddenly, doubled over in the gutter, and vomited again. Callum drew back, shaking. Melissa grabbed his arm.
‘What happened?’ Melissa whispered.
‘Get away from him, you stupid cow! He’s a crazy freak, a killer! He jumped him, he jumped right at his face, and he just dug his nails into Ed’s head and then he . . . he . . . he ATE them! He ATE -’
But Baz couldn’t bring himself to say it. Instead he tried to vomit again, his empty stomach bringing up nothing but bile as he retched and retched. Finally, gasping, he looked up at Callum and screamed hysterically, ‘Just back off, Callum Scott! Just back the hell off!’
By now a crowd was gathering. Callum and Melissa weren’t the only ones who had heard the screaming – first Ed’s terrible death agony, and then Baz’s hysterical accusations. The crowd was mostly kids, but there were some adults too.
‘Get him away from me. He did it – he did it!’ Baz pointed and shrieked, all his fear and revulsion focused on Callum. ‘He went crazy! He ripped Ed’s eyes out – ripped them right out of his head. He killed him!’
Weeping, whispering girls and muttering boys crowded the pavement. There were more screams as new people arrived and saw the sickening horror of the scene for the first time. Everybody had a phone. Every one of them was dialling 999. Two separate crowds were forming now, one around the savaged wreck of the body that had once been Ed Bolton, and the other around Callum. Hands grabbed at him, driving him to his knees and pinning his arms behind his back. Through the fog of shock that seemed to have paralysed him, Callum heard conflicting orders flying.