‘He tried to warn me,’ Callum said, thinking. ‘But I thought he was threatening me. I thought it was him doing the killing. You’re right. I don’t know if he can be trusted, but . . .’
But whatever else Jacob might be hiding, his warning about the ‘dark reflection’ had been accurate. And now that Callum thought about it, even Doom’s howling had only ever served to protect him. It had scared him, true, but it had also scared off Ed and his gang, and even the faceless thing that was trying to kill him.
‘I don’t know if any ghost can be trusted,’ Callum said. ‘But no ghost has ever hurt me, and Jacob’s the only one who’s ever tried to talk to me. Maybe he does have answers.’
‘Come on, then,’ said Melissa. ‘He hangs out in the churchyard, right? So we need to go there. If we sneak out by the back door, I don’t need to tell my mum we’re going. I’ll leave a note, though.’ She scribbled a brief excuse on a pad and stuck it on the fridge. ‘Hopefully she won’t see it till I get back.’
‘Aren’t you afraid?’ Callum marvelled.
‘Of what? “Ancient monuments can be dangerous”?’ Melissa gave a hollow laugh, but then her face became serious. ‘Well, I guess I am. Aren’t you?’ She opened the back door softly. ‘I’m not afraid of walking through the woods; not usually anyway, so that’s all I’m thinking about at the moment. If I sit here moping about Ed I’ll just get myself down. At least your faceless monster isn’t going after my eyes.’
‘You don’t know that,’ Callum said. ‘Don’t even think it.’
‘I told you, I’m only thinking about getting myself out the door. Now just come on, before I change my mind!’
Callum followed Melissa. They made their way cautiously down the side path to the front of the house. Melissa gave the air a little victorious punch when they got through the front gate without being noticed. Callum answered her with a grim smile under the street lamp.
‘Come on, then. Let’s get this over with.’
*
The moon was rising over Marlock Wood as they came to the lane that led to the ruined church. Now Melissa let Callum lead her.
‘Do you think your Grim will be there, too?’ she asked in a low voice, sounding strangely eager. ‘Do you think I’ll be able to see it?’
‘I don’t know.’ The moonlight cast blue shadows over the old tombstones. ‘Be careful where you walk,’ Callum added, as though the ordinary danger of uneven ground was all they had to worry about. His voice sounded hollow as he spoke.
They picked their way through the overgrown graves until they came to the church.
‘It was round here that I saw him,’ whispered Callum. ‘Are you sure you want to do this?’
Melissa nodded, swallowing hard. Callum gave her a tight smile and they stepped round the corner of the church.
Jacob was standing by the ancient yew tree, bathed in the moonlight. The gigantic black Grim, Doom, sat on his haunches at Jacob’s heel. They looked as if they’d been waiting there ever since the day the Victorian photographer had tried to capture their image with collodion and silver nitrate. As Jacob caught sight of Callum, the faintest trace of a smile played on his lips, but when Melissa stepped into view he frowned.
‘She is a mortal,’ said Jacob accusingly.
‘So am I,’ Callum answered fiercely.
‘You know well what I mean. She’s not a chime child. She has no connection to the Netherworld. She should not be here.’
‘Why not?’ Callum stood his ground. ‘She lives in Marlock too. Maybe her ancestors are buried in this churchyard.’
Melissa moved closer to Callum’s side.
‘Are you talking to him – to the ghost? Is he here now?’ She drew a sharp breath. ‘Can you see the Grim?’
Callum gave a curt nod. ‘Jacob’s unhappy that you’re here,’ he said softly. ‘Don’t worry. I’m going to insist.’ He turned back to Jacob.
‘Melissa’s a translator,’ Callum told him. ‘She’s not of your world, but she understands it. More than that – she’s fluent in it. I can see things she can’t, but I don’t know what they are. Melissa knows their names. She knows how things work. She’s told me more than you have, and more clearly. She can help.’
Jacob paused, and looked Melissa up and down suspiciously. After a moment he said with disdain, ‘Will she scream and run if she sees me?’
Callum carefully repeated the question, to warn Melissa. ‘Will you scream and run from Jacob?’
Melissa gave a snort. ‘Would I be here if I was going to scream and run? I – Oh.’
Jacob tilted his head towards Callum with a wry smile.
‘She can see me now.’
‘Is the Grim yours?’ Melissa asked softly, and it took Callum a stunned moment to realise that she was addressing the question directly to Jacob without showing any further surprise or fear. The great black dog stared back at Melissa, its eyes glowing like redhot coals in the darkness.
‘Doom goes with me where I go,’ Jacob answered briefly. ‘I do not own him. Come with me into the church and we can talk. You are not safe, walking abroad in this wood, either by daylight or in moonlight. Come inside.’
Doom suddenly loped forward. Callum couldn’t help but flinch as the gigantic hound passed them in a rush of icy wind. Melissa took a firm grip on Callum’s elbow, and they passed through the doorway of the ruined church together, Jacob following behind.
The floor of the roofless building was a tangle of weeds and nettles. A narrow path wound towards the gaping black hole of a doorway that led to the tower stairs. Doom stopped halfway along this path and turned around. Jacob joined him.
‘This is no longer a true sanctuary,’ Jacob said, ‘but as long as the moonlight falls on the altar steps, it holds a memory of its sacred past, and evil spirits will think twice before they enter here.’
Jacob’s depthless eyes pinned Callum with a piercing stare. ‘I know you think I am likely evil too. When last we met, you banished me from your home and accused me of murder. So tell me – what has brought you back to us so fearlessly now?’
Callum threw open his hands in frustration. Wasn’t it obvious?
‘The dark reflection.’
Doom growled, low in his throat, like the distant rumble of thunder. Jacob laid a gleaming white hand on the huge dog’s black head.
‘You have seen it?’ Jacob asked seriously.
‘It killed a boy at our school.’
‘Have you seen it?’ Jacob insisted.
‘It came into the garden last night,’ Callum said in a hushed voice. ‘It had no face, but then it took my face. What is it?’
‘It is a Fetch,’ said Jacob. ‘A demon from the Netherworld. And it has crossed into the world of daylight with bold impudence. It is a fearsome hunter, a tracker without parallel.’
‘A Fetch!’ Melissa cried. ‘Of course – how stupid of me! “The dark reflection”!’
‘You know it?’ Jacob asked in surprise.
‘I know of it,’ Melissa answered. ‘I should have recognised it when Callum talked about it at my house earlier. But I was still so shocked about Ed, and worried about Callum being accused of murder, I just didn’t make the connection. Some translator I am! I know exactly what you’re talking about. They call a Fetch “the dark reflection” because it doesn’t have a face of its own, so if it wants to pass for a human it has to take on someone else’s face and form. It can’t even make up its own idea of a face – it has to use the face of someone it’s seen before. And . . .’
She turned to Callum in excited triumph.
‘It has a weakness!’ she exclaimed. ‘You can catch a Fetch off guard by showing it its own true reflection: it hates to look at its unmasked skin.’ Melissa shivered, and hopped from foot to foot a couple of times. It was growing colder. ‘It’s in my book, that dictionary I showed you.’
Jacob nodded, his hand still buried in Doom’s dark fur. ‘You are quite some translator,’ he said. ‘A human girl who can tell the Fetch’s weakness? A rare thing indeed.’