I’ve made a new decision.

I don’t know quite where it came from, but something about today has made everything turn in my head. Like if anything can happen, then maybe I should be trying to make the things I want to happen. I think of Alberic, stirring up the wind, telling me we have something in common. The frost in my hair, and the rush of autumn leaves – he knows far more than I do about it all. And then I think of Mallory, who has no control in what’s going on at home. And honestly, none of it makes sense. My normal day was about as far as you can get from normal. So, I’ve eaten my leftover daal like a good girl tonight, and Mum’s got half an eye on me but most of her mind is with her work, and I’ve told her I’m going to revise for the maths test next week, when really I’m doing some research.

Yep. I’m googling Jack Frost.

There’s a film, where he’s a boy, a guardian of the world. And then there are loads of images of him as an old man, laying his hands on the outspread leaves of winter trees, drawing icicles out of guttering, sealing windows with a touch.

When does frost actually appear? Is it really all down to one person? How could one person cover the whole of the world? Because it’s always winter somewhere, isn’t it? I get lost in my research, and find out more than I ever thought I’d know about frost. It’s water vapour, basically, which condenses as ice on things like grass and rooftops. But none of it helps me to work out why I’m prone to breaking out in my own private weather storm. And it doesn’t help me to control it either. It’s happened a few times today; nothing too dramatic, just a feeling that creeps up on me and then there it is – kind of beautiful, frosted fractal shapes on the skin between my fingers, along my jawbone.

‘Owl, are you still working?’

I click off Google and pull my book towards me.

‘Yes.’

‘Do you want a hot drink?’

‘No, thanks.’

‘I’m going to work for a bit longer,’ she pokes her head in, her eyes slightly distracted, as they always are when she’s stuck in on something. ‘Don’t be too late, love. School tomorrow . . .’

‘OK.’

She pauses, looking me up and down. ‘Everything all right?’

‘Yep. Just . . . working . . .’

‘Mmm. Well. Go careful.’

Is she psychic? It wouldn’t surprise me. Either way, she leaves me to it and after a few minutes I have a really stupid idea.

I’m going to find him.

It’s crazy. How does a person go about finding a fairy-tale character? I mean, he’s not just going to be dancing over the rooftops, is he? Is he? I’ve tried to tell myself it’s all rubbish but Mum doesn’t lie. And normal girls don’t cry ice; don’t stare out of dark windows imagining what it would really be like if they found Jack Frost and he was their father.

So, I have to try. And if it really is all real, then there will be something between us, won’t there? Some sort of frost connection that will lead me to him, or him to me? It’s worth a try. I can’t just sit here forever anyway, wondering, questioning myself and everything I’ve ever known. My scalp itches with irritation as I fret over it and when I go to scratch, my hair is crisp with frost. That decides it. I pull on a dark jumper and my boots and prowl through the flat like a burglar, creeping out of the door when I’m sure Mum’s back up in the studio.

It’s bitterly cold outside and it rained earlier in the evening, so there are puddles in all the gutters. I tread in one by accident as I head across the road, making for the suspension bridge, and when I look down the water is freezing all around my foot. I reach down to touch it and where my fingers meet the ice, little veins of white appear, spreading across the surface.

Wow!

I look around, afraid someone will be watching, but nobody’s about. It’s nearly midnight and too cold for anyone to want to be outside. I tread through all the puddles I can find, a thrill rushing through me every time I turn back to see the trail of frozen water I’m leaving behind me. I jump into the next big one, feeling a bit foolish and a bit excited, completely gobsmacked when a cloud of pale ice crystals rises up around me on impact, spinning in the night air before drifting to the ground. It’s like being in a snowglobe: my very own little world, all of ice; and for a moment I’m so mesmerized, I forget about my mission. And then the moon breaks through the clouds, and the world seems to blaze silver around me. And I remember.

Jack.

I run on, every so often looking around to see the traces of winter I’ve left behind. The moon seems to urge me onward, onward, and my feet fly faster and faster as the world around me sparkles silver with new frost. By the time I get to the bridge adrenalin is pumping through my body, a hot-cold sensation I’ve never known before. I lean against the railing looking up at the moon, a grin spreading over my face at the infinite possibilities that suddenly seem spread out before me. If there’s magic in the world then this is it, and I’m part of it! The feeling thrills through me and then a creaking sound breaks the silence behind me; when I turn, the whole of the railing has been wrapped in a thick layer of ice that cascades to the bridge itself, sparkling in the moonlight and throwing jagged new shapes on to the hard, frost-covered ground. My fingers look almost like they were cast in ice themselves as they grip the railing, as my heart pounds and the ice spreads, further, further, until it feels like I could cover the world with it, standing here forever, just watching the magic take over.

This is Jack’s power.

This is mine.

‘What is this?’ demands a voice.

I spin to see who’s speaking but nobody’s there.

‘What are you? What do you do here?’

I look around again, trying to find the source of the voice. It’s not a whisper exactly, but it’s not quite normal speech either. It sounds more like the hissing of an old steam train than anything else.

‘Answer me!’

‘I can’t, I don’t know . . .’

There’s a soft booming sound and the whole bridge seems to vibrate. I look down to the other end, and I can see it: a tide of ice, coming right at me. And not only on the railings, not only a thin frost of it on the ground, but a great swell, a roaring wall of ice blooming over everything, jagged ridges of it forming on either side and a swathe through the middle. The lights on the bridge make the whole thing glow and then, finally, I see a shadowy figure stalking towards me, his arms held low and wide, as if conducting.

Oh, help! I step back but I’m too late, the tide swells and bursts around me, and I don’t think, I just leap up, out of its path, landing awkwardly on warped ridges of ice thicker than I’ve ever seen. I balance myself, my heart tripping in my chest as he gets closer, and I tell myself, ‘This is what I wanted. It’s what I gambled on.’

I stand in his path, my fists clenched at my sides.

It’s Jack Frost.

He is like nothing I would ever have imagined. Taller, wilder, more powerful than any of Mum’s stories warned me. The air around him blurs with a thousand little shards of ice. His dark hair is tipped with frost, his eyebrows thick with it. He is pale-skinned, the angles in his face accentuated by the blue tinge in the hollows of his cheekbones and beneath his eyes.

‘Are you Jack Frost?’ my small voice rings out, surprising both of us.

‘Some call me thus,’ he says, leaning forward to study me, his gaze fierce. ‘And you? You have been making your own small winter here. What creature are you? Do you seek to challenge me?’ He tilts his head to one side, his movements all slightly too fast, too stilted, a hungry grin sending a shiver down my spine. ‘You may, if you wish. I like a challenge, and you may be worthy. I could hear your play half a thousand miles away.’

I take a step back. This is not a man. This is not a father. This is an elemental creature, who thinks I challenge him. There is nothing in his face of kindness or humanity; nothing I can find there to relate to.

He thinks I am a creature like him.

But I’m not.

I’m. Just. Not.

I turn and run, and there’s a crack of brittle laughter behind me and my whole body is ringing with the shock of it all, my mind a fizzing, confused storm of too many images and too many emotions. I run, as fast as I can, for as long as I can. And then I collide with something, and everything goes black.