I take a deep breath. ‘The forest isn’t haunted; it’s full of shadows because the old fae king is mad with grief. He locked himself away in his palace and cursed it so that nobody could get close – nobody could even find it – and the shadows he made with all his sorrow invaded Winterspell. So all the fae are fighting with the shadows and living underground, and the trees are dying as the shadows spread. It’s all part of the Shadow King’s curse. My nan says that’s maybe why Yanny’s wings are the way they are – the shadows blight everything.’
‘And . . .’ She looks between us wildly, tucking her hair behind her ears, clearing her throat. ‘Let’s say I’ve got all that. For now. What was Yanny saying about ghost Nan?’
‘Ah yes. And my nan is a ghost who is getting thinner by the day.’
Yanny laughs, and Zara stares, and I can just feel the swift tick of her mind, working it all out, recognizing the truth of it. She sits down on the side of the hill, pulling me and Yanny with her on to the cold, scrubby ground.
‘Is it just you and her?’
‘And Peg. He’s, um . . .’
‘Um what?’ she persists.
My mind whirrs, but it’s never going to win against Zara. I look at Yanny, but he’s leaning back on his elbows, eyes closed, face tipped to the darkening sky.
‘He’s an imp.’
She slaps me on the arm, and then claps her hands. ‘IMPS ARE REAL!’
‘Don’t shout about it!’
‘No. OK.’ She bounces a bit, clasping her hands together. Then she turns her full bright on me again, and it makes me laugh.
‘What about you?’
‘What about me?’
‘What kind of fairy are you?’
‘Not a fairy,’ I say. ‘I’m a sprite.’
‘A sprite,’ she breathes, staring at me, her head on one side. ‘I thought they were smaller.’
‘I don’t think they are,’ I say, looking down at myself. ‘Nan cast a glamour over me when I was small, and I haven’t worked out how to break it yet, so I don’t really know . . .’
‘Not a lot smaller,’ says Yanny. ‘Pretty much the same as fairies, only not so clever, and not so good in battle.’
‘Yanny!’
‘S’true,’ he says, shaking his head sadly.
‘You’re delirious. I’ll show you, when I can work out how. I’m sure I can fight just as much as you can.’
‘So why haven’t you?’ he asks, his eyes still bleary.
‘I wasn’t allowed to. Nan says she was protecting me.’ I shrug, knowing it’s cowardly. Yanny wasn’t allowed to either, only he did.
‘And your nan,’ Zara says, frowning. ‘Ghost Nan. She’s getting thin?’
‘She died a long time ago . . . She came back to look after me when my mother died. She’s OK, just . . . Yeah, a bit worn out sometimes.’ I shrug, trying to make it sound like it’s all OK, and nothing to be so sad about.
But I am so sad about it.
When I see her getting thinner, when I see how exhausted she looks – when she disappears entirely, even if it’s just for a couple of hours – it’s terrible. I thought she’d be with me forever. It seemed only right, since the rest of my family is such a disaster. She does always come back, I remind myself. And she always says she’ll hang around for as long as I need her to. The way things are at the moment, she’ll see that being for a long time.
‘So, ghost Nan looks after you?’
I press my fingers into the earth.
‘Yeah. And Peg. And I have a new little cat called Teacake . . .’
Zara’s eyes get all soft, and I wish I could take it back, because I just want to see the bright of her excitement, and now it’s gone.
‘You and Yanny have been hiding whole worlds from me! Whole . . . magical worlds.’ She stares out at Cloudfell Mountain and the dark swathe of Winterspell.
I wince. ‘I know.’
‘And now I’m supposed to be all noble and understanding?’ She sighs.
‘You are noble and understanding,’ I say.
‘Why didn’t you say something when I was asking before?’
‘I didn’t know what to say. I didn’t realize there were fae at school, or magic lessons. I just wanted to be normal.’
‘Normal!’ She shakes her head. ‘Who’s normal? What’s normal?’
‘I don’t know! I thought that school would be, I suppose. I’m sorry I didn’t say anything. I’m glad you know now. Are you OK? Do you still want to come with us?’
‘I do!’ she says, reaching in her bag for her phone. ‘I’ll just have to text Mum to let her know I’ll be home late.’
I watch her screen light up with an instant reply that’s more kisses than words, and Zara smiles, tucking it back into her bag. She catches me watching.
‘OK?’ she whispers.
I look towards home, where smoke is curling from the chimney, and people – or at least creatures – are waiting for me.
I smile back. ‘Yeah.’
‘Cold,’ whispers Yanny, sitting up and folding into his knees, shivering as a bitter November rain begins to fall. ‘I’m cold. Can we move, please?’
‘Come on, then,’ I say, steeling myself.
I don’t have a phone, and neither does Nan – the very idea is comical – so there’s no way to warn her of what’s coming her way. We’ll just have to deal with it. Zara and I help Yanny to his feet, and we run down the hill, slipping and sliding through the mud, spattering our clothes as the rain gets stronger. By the time we reach the garden, our breathless shouts have turned to laughter, and then we hit the barriers, and of course Yanny’s presence sets off all the alarms.
I wonder why mine don’t. I suppose it’s Nan’s super-glamour. Or maybe the spell allows for me, since I live there. I shake my head and unwind the silver wire to let us all through, speaking the words of peace, and then we rush for the door, bursting into the bright kitchen before I’m really ready.
Nan, Peg and Teacake are all in there, sitting around the fireplace. Teacake has a saucer of milk on the rug; Peg is being a bird, sitting innocently by a mug of hot chocolate. They look up as Zara and I collide on the doormat, suddenly aware of muddy shoes and dripping coats. Yanny staggers through, careless, dropping on to the bench and holding his hands out to the fire.
‘Stella?’ Nan demands, rising from her armchair.
‘This is Zara, and that’s Yanny. He’s a fairy, I told you about him. He’s a bit . . . under the weather. Zara’s a human. They’re my new school friends. Um, Zara, this is my nan. And that’s Peg up on the mantelpiece . . . And that’s Teacake.’
Teacake looks up from her milk. Yanny whistles. Everybody stares at me. I give them a toothy sort of smile, while my stomach churns, and my skin prickles with heat.
‘What’s wrong with your fairy friend?’ Nan asks eventually.
‘He was a bit run-down, and his glamouring got out of control. Mrs Mandrake used a bit of mer-fae nest to revive him!’
‘She’s very good in an emergency,’ says Nan. ‘Always has been.’
‘Did you know she could do that?’
‘Of course!’ says Nan. ‘Most humans have a little fae in them, if they open their minds to it – and the closer to Winterspell you are, the easier that is . . . But now, tell me the rest of the story. You all look highly hassled.’
‘We’re OK. And Yanny’s better than he was, thanks to Mrs Mandrake, but I had to do the glamouring for him through town, and it was all a bit of a struggle, and so . . . I thought we’d stop here before we get him home.’