The Thirteen Treasures Part 20

He pointed in horror at the fairy, which was still gazing at the bracelet with a look of adoration that was tinged with madness.

Tanya stared at him, furious. 'It's the drain-dweller! I don't believe you! You just couldn't resist, could you?'

'Sorry,' said Fabian, looking anything but apologetic. In fact, he looked as if he had just won the n.o.bel Prize. 'It's revolting!' he exclaimed, looking delirious and appalled all at once. He knelt and reached towards the suspicious drain-dweller. It lunged forward and snapped at his fingers, missing only by a fraction of an inch. Fabian jumped and retracted his hand quickly.

'This is incredible! Amazing! This is going to revolutionise the world of science!'

'Shut up, Fabian-' Tanya began, but her momentary distraction was all the drain-dweller needed. It threw itself upon Tanya's wrist with incredible force and began wrenching at the bracelet frenziedly.

'What's it doing?' Fabian yelled in alarm.

'Get it off me!' Tanya shrieked, batting at the creature with her free hand.

'Grab it by the neck!'

Tanya reached for the scrawny neck but every time she made contact the creature wriggled and slid out of her grasp. Finally she managed to catch its head, though her grip was weak upon the slimy froglike skin beneath her hand. As she tried to pry it away from her wrist her hand slid in front of the fairy's face. She felt a sharp pain, as if twenty little needles had pierced her all at once. It had sunk its teeth into her forefinger. She felt, rather than saw, the blood running down her arm and dripping from her elbow. In her shock she allowed the drain-dweller's head to slip free from her hand.

'You're bleeding!' said Fabian, horrified.

'Guard the bathroom,' Tanya cried. 'Put the plugs in the sink and the bath. We can't let it escape!'

With a final wrench the bracelet broke at the clasp. Now satisfied, the fairy slithered from Tanya's grip, its fist clenched around the object of its desire, and bolted for the open door.

Tanya flew past Fabian out onto the landing. 'Don't let it get away!'

The drain-dweller was halfway down the first flight of stairs. Immediately, Tanya could see that it was struggling. In a split second she registered that the dry, dusty carpet was hampering its escape. The creature was used to slithering and sliding through moist pipes and water. It was not equipped for life on dry ground.

Tanya thundered down the stairs, fearing that any moment her legs were going to get tangled up in each other. She was gaining on it.

As the creature neared the grandfather clock on the landing it stopped suddenly and froze. For a moment Tanya thought it was about to take refuge inside the clock but then she saw what it was staring at.

The tip of a matted ginger tail was just visible from the side of the grandfather clock. It flicked once in agitation.

What followed would replay itself in Tanya's head in sickening clarity for years to come. Often she would ask herself whether Spitfire had had one last good pounce in him, whether she had vastly underestimated him, or if he had simply been lucky. In the scheme of things none of it really made a difference. The result was the same.

The drain-dweller's eyes widened as Spitfire sprang towards it. It did not try to run. It made no attempt to fight. Maybe it was too afraid to do either. Or maybe it just realised its fate and was accepting of it.

The creature did not scream when the cat's claws found their target, or even whimper as the broken, aged teeth clamped down on its windpipe for the kill. Spitfire, for his part seemed to sense his good fortune, knowing enough not to push his luck by toying with his prey longer than necessary. There was a crisp, sharp snap and then the drain-dweller's body twitched before going limp.

Tanya heard her own cry get lodged in her throat. The sound of it startled her and urged Spitfire to make off with his rare catch. She could only watch as he loped down the stairs and into the hallway, eager to find a darkened corner to feast in.

She became aware of Fabian standing close behind her and turned. His expression mirrored her own. Like her, he had no words to describe what they had just witnessed. In silence he stooped and picked something up from the threadbare carpet, then gently pushed it into Tanya's hand.

She looked down at the silver bracelet in her palm. Several of the charms were coated in blood, but whether it was the blood of the drain-dweller or her own she was unable to tell. Slowly, she turned and headed back up the stairs, the bracelet slippery beneath her fingers. She paused outside her room when she heard a door open in the hallway below. Then followed a low whistle.

'Looks like Spitfire's been earning his keep,' Warwick said. 'Did you see what he caught?'

Tanya stiffened.

'I think it was a mouse,' she heard Fabian say in a dull voice.

'That's a lot of blood,' Warwick remarked. 'More likely a rat than a mouse. Didn't think he still had it in him. I'll get the mop.'

Tanya did not stay to hear any more. Choking back a sob she locked her bedroom door and shut herself in the tiny bathroom. She stood in front of the washbasin and held the bracelet under the hot tap, watching through blurred eyes as the water changed from red to pink to clear, disappearing down the plughole that had been the creature's home. Silver glinted within its depths and she was reminded of the lost cauldron charm. Something like regret stirred inside her at the thought of it being down there, alone; separated from the rest of the charms. Even if she was able to retrieve it and make the bracelet whole and complete once more, she knew she would never wear it again. Yet still she held it beneath the scalding water, trying to wash the death from it. There she stayed, rinsing it until the water ran cold and her fingers were red and shrivelled, crying until she had no tears left.

21.

ANYA TOSSED AND TURNED between the damp sheets of her bed. The humidity of the night ensured that sleep would not come. The bedroom window was ajar, allowing the scent of the fragrant summer flowers to waft through, something she usually welcomed. Tonight it seemed to be choking her. She could not get the death of the drain-dweller out of her mind.

Gradually the air turned cooler and drowsiness settled over her at last. Just as she started to doze off, a familiar noise called her back from the fuzzy depths of sleep: the unmistakable sound of wings in the air. Too late she became aware of the dull twitching in her eyelids, which, had she not been so preoccupied, she would no doubt have taken heed of several minutes ago.

Claws were scrabbling over the windowledge. The curtains twitched and parted, and then the familiar black bird was gliding slowly towards her. Three other tiny figures followed. The bird shape-shifted in mid-air then drew closer, eventually alighting on Tanya's pillow. There was an overpowering smell of woodland, then Raven was looking down at her. She seized a strand of Tanya's hair and gave it a spiteful tug before joining her companions at the foot of the bed.

Tanya stared at three sets of accusing eyes, fighting all urges to look away. Only the Mizhog seemed to be behaving normally or as normally as was expected. The moonlight streaming in caught something wet and glistening that was partially hanging out of its mouth. A slug, Tanya realised, still half alive. The doomed creature wriggled feebly before the Mizhog sucked in the remainder and licked its chops. Repulsed, Tanya tore her eyes away and forced herself to concentrate on the others.

'What's wrong?' she asked, unable to mask the fear in her voice.

'I think you know,' said Gredin. He reached out and flung a cushion across the room. It connected with the stool at the dressing table. The stool toppled over and hit the floor with a clatter.

Tanya grimaced at the noise. Feathercap fixed her with an icy stare.

'Your meddling brought about the death of one of our kind tonight,' he said.

'I didn't meddle with anything. It stole something of mine and I chased it.'

'Yes, you chased it!' Feathercap snarled, in front of her nose within a split second, so close that Tanya could see crumbs in his moustache. 'To its death!'

'If it hadn't taken my things I wouldn't have chased it!' Tanya whispered.

Feathercap scoffed.

'Drain-dwellers aren't renowned for honesty or intelligence. The lure of the Thirteen Treasures would prove irresistible to such a dim-witted creature. You should have taken more care.'

'The Thirteen Treasures?' Tanya shook her head in bewilderment. 'I don't understand.'

'Say no more, Feathercap,' Raven warned.

Tanya glanced at her in astonishment, then looked to Gredin. Both were wearing twin expressions of anger mixed with anxiety.

Feathercap rounded on them. 'It was only a matter of time before she worked it out for herself!' He turned back to Tanya. 'You taunted it. You tempted it.'

'How?' Tanya cried, forgetting to keep quiet.

'You gave it one of the charms!'

'She was not aware,' said Raven.

'And then there was the girl,' Feathercap spat, working himself further into his rage. 'Oh, yes, your little talks with her haven't gone unnoticed.'

Tanya clenched her fists beneath the bedclothes.

'I was trying to help her return that child. The fairy child. I don't see why you would object to that, unless you enjoy the chaos and disruption of the two worlds mixing. But maybe that's exactly what you want. I know about the Unseelie Court. Red told me.'

'You know nothing about what we want,' said Gredin. 'And nothing of who we are. As for the other girl, she may have told you what she knows, but I can a.s.sure you that what she does know is far from enough. Not even close.'

An interruption came as the Mizhog burst into a rapid succession of hiccups. Tanya watched with a sinking feeling. The Mizhog, being of a somewhat nervous disposition, had never reacted well to moments of tension such as these. It began retching violently. Moments later, as she feared, what was left of the slug reappeared on her bedspread. A final hiccup later the Mizhog recovered, picking at a flea on its belly.

Feathercap's face darkened as he stared across the room. He was gazing at the old painting above the fireplace.

'Echo and Narcissus,' he murmured. 'Interesting.' He snapped out of his daze and turned back to Tanya. 'You are familiar with the story?'

Tanya nodded warily.

'Refresh my memory,' Feathercap said, but his tone was mocking.

'Echo was cursed by an enchantress,' said Tanya. 'She could only speak the last words of other people's sentences. Narcissus was a vain young man who fell in love with his own reflection in a pool and wasted away. Echo pined for him until all that was left of her was her voice.'

'Imagine,' said Feathercap. 'To only be able to speak the last words of other people's sentences.'

Tanya felt her insides give an awful lurch. 'You're threatening me.'

Feathercap smiled. Lifting his hand, he mimed a knocking action in the air. The sharp sound of knuckles on wood resonated from the wardrobe even though Feathercap hadn't touched it, was nowhere near it.

'Knock, knock,' he said softly. 'Who's there?'

In the quiet that followed a small sound caught her attention, almost like a whine. It was coming from the wardrobe.

'What's that?' said Tanya, drawing the sheets up around herself. 'What have you done?'

The whining continued and was joined by a scratching noise, soft but insistent, gradually building into a frenzy. The wardrobe door began to shake and rattle as whatever was inside threw itself about, howling. It sounded like a demon.

Tanya leaped out of bed, the sheets gathered around her. She was halfway across the room when the wardrobe door burst open and Oberon shot out with a yelp, confused and plainly terrified. In a flash she understood: Oberon was simply a catalyst. The real trouble would start once he had inevitably woken the household.

'Here, boy,' she said desperately, hands outstretched towards him. 'Quiet now it's all right!'

The bewildered animal would not be coaxed. He chased madly about the room, knocking over the table and chair in the corner. A pile of books flew into the air before crashing to the floor. Moments later the dog seemed to gather his wits and set about the fairies, growling and barking. Raven and Gredin evaded him easily, gliding up to the safety of the ceiling. The Mizhog let out a high-pitched squeak and followed.

Feathercap leaped on the windowsill, narrowly escaping a gnash of Oberon's jaws. He pointed a fat finger at Tanya. 'This is for the drain-dweller.'

A shower of sparks erupted from his finger and the lower half of Tanya's face froze. She brought her hands up to her mouth. Her jaw was slack and open, her lips horribly numb.

Footsteps hurried across the landing.

'What's going on?' her grandmother called out.

'. . . Going on . . .' said Tanya, her mouth moving through no control of her own.

The bedroom door flew open and the room flooded with light. Her eyes slowly adjusted to the new brightness. Florence swept into the room, her face a grim mask of white. Warwick followed shortly after. Tanya noticed his hand resting on the hunting knife he carried in his belt an observation she made at precisely the same moment as her grandmother. Florence and Warwick exchanged glances and he quickly dropped his hand.

Florence glanced at the ceiling with a peculiar look on her face. Tanya's head snapped up. It seemed her grandmother had been gazing straight at the fairies, but then she realised that the light bulb was swaying frenziedly. One of them most likely the Mizhog must have knocked against it.

Above them, Amos stirred in his room. There were numerous shouted obscenities followed by a loud, constant banging, like a door being repeatedly opened and slammed. Florence's mouth was pressed into a thin line as she took in the scene: the overturned chair and table, the books scattered about haphazardly, and Oberon jumping up at the windowsill, still barking frantically.

'STOP THAT CONFOUNDED RACKET!' Warwick bellowed at him.

Oberon fled and cowered behind Tanya with a whimper.

'. . . Confounded racket . . .' she repeated, looking over to the window. Feathercap gave a last, satisfied smirk and then the fairies were gone.

'What exactly,' Florence said coldly, 'is that dog doing in here?'

'. . . In here . . .' Tanya echoed.

'What have you been up to?'

'. . . Up to . . .'

'Is this your idea of a joke?' said Warwick.

'. . . A joke . . .'

Tanya covered her mouth with her hands.

'Warwick,' Florence snapped. 'Take the dog downstairs and shut him in the kitchen.'

'. . . In the kitchen . . .' Tanya mumbled from behind her hands.

Warwick pursed his lips and left, followed by a meek Oberon. Florence remained, standing stiffly, her slate-grey eyes hard.

'There will be no more of this nonsense. No more of this sneaking around in the night. If I find Oberon up here again I'll have him sent back home before you can blink. Do you understand?'

Tanya nodded, but the words spilled from her mouth none the less.

'. . . Do you understand . . .'

She looked down, unable to meet her grandmother's face any longer.

'Stop repeating everything I say!'

'. . . Everything I say . . .'

'I didn't expect this kind of insolence from you. Obviously you've been spending too much time in Fabian's company,' said Florence. 'I'm not amused.'