David bounded away, his ears and tail twitching, the sudden rush of all his senses coming into focus, making him momentarily dizzy. He heard Jessie shouting his name, but he didn’t stop. He shouldn’t have dragged her into this in the first place. And now the professors had noticed her.
He kept running, his hare legs carrying him quickly until he reached the park by the bus station and the narrow river. An orange-and-black motorbike stood, leaning against a tree. David glanced around to make sure he was alone, then drew in a shuddering breath and turned back into a boy.
‘Auntie Ceridwen?’
She stepped out from behind the tree. The look in her eyes made David want to tuck his tail into his legs and bolt for the mountains. But he didn’t have a tail at the moment, or the option of bolting anyway. He curled his fingers into his palms to stop his hands from shaking.
Ceridwen growled at the back of her throat. ‘What exactly do you think you’re doing?’
David picked at a thread on his trousers. ‘I was following the professors. Like you told me to, remember?’
‘Don’t cheek me. I told you to keep an eye on things from a distance and make sure they didn’t see you. Your friend was shouting after you, you know.’
‘I heard her.’ David shoved his hands into his pockets angrily. ‘What’s wrong with making a friend? Just because you like being on your own all the time, it doesn’t mean I have to do the same.’
‘How much does she know?’ Ceridwen asked.
Of course, that was all his aunt really cared about: making sure their various secrets were kept. ‘Nothing,’ David said. Ceridwen stared at him disbelievingly and he felt colour rise to his cheeks. ‘I already told you. She’s guessed there’s something up with the professors, but she has no idea what’s going on. She thinks the profs are bank robbers or something.’
He hated lying to his aunt, but she had ways of meddling with people’s memories if she thought they knew too much. He attempted a smile. ‘She wouldn’t believe me even if I told her – which I’m not going to do.’
That was true enough. No one would ever believe him. Magic existed. His aunt policed it out of family duty. David wasn’t really a boy, but a hare who could change shape, and the professors were searching for some sort of magical artefact, probably powerful and dangerous.
His aunt started to walk, assuming he’d follow. He should take off in the other direction: that’d teach her.
‘This is because you still haven’t found out what the professors are looking for, isn’t it?’ he said, following her. ‘It’s not my fault, so don’t take it out on me.’ His aunt turned her head to glare at him and he hunched his shoulders. ‘Sorry.’
Ceridwen slowed and sighed. ‘Morfran, I know this isn’t always easy, but I’m not making up these rules to annoy you. I’m trying to protect you. Magic and mortals are like oil and water. They don’t mix.’
David took his hands out of his pockets and ran one through his hair, feeling the notch in his ear. ‘They could, though, couldn’t they? I’m a mix.’
‘And what would your human friend say if she knew?’ Ceridwen asked. ‘Just because you can walk on two legs, it doesn’t make you one of them.’ She put a hand on his shoulder. ‘Don’t underestimate yourself, Morfran. When I rescued you, I did it because I felt sorry for you – an injured baby, clinging to life. I didn’t think you’d even survive, but you surprised me. You proved to be far stronger than you looked.’
‘And you taught me magic,’ David said. She could have kept him as a pet, but instead she’d taught him to draw power from the earth, just like the ancient enchanters had done. She’d given him consciousness and the ability to change shape, so now he was more boy than hare.
The first stars were appearing over the mountains. David dropped his gaze from them. He should be grateful – and he was. It was just that sometimes he wished he could be David the boy instead of Morfran the . . . whatever he was.
‘I made an exception for you because I could see you were special,’ Ceridwen said, as if reading his mind. ‘But magic must be contained. It should never have entered this world in the first place.’
‘That wasn’t your fault,’ David said.
Ceridwen sighed. ‘I know. But I must bear the responsibility for it. There are always people like the professors trying to pull magic out of its proper place. If I leave them to it, before we know it they’ll be summoning monsters from the Otherworld and no one will be safe.’
Monsters from the Otherworld.
David stopped still. His aunt’s words bounced in his head, colliding with all his jumbled thoughts: the professors searching the mountains, Professor Nuffield talking about the Wild Hunt. And, just now, he’d been afraid the professors had followed Jessie into the dog class, but they hadn’t been looking for her at all.
‘Dogs,’ he said, his voice barely a whisper. If Odin was around today, you might see a giant dog prowling in the mountains, Professor Nuffield had said. David closed his fingers into his palms, his nails digging in. ‘They’re not hunting for a magical artefact, they’re looking for a dog – one of Odin’s dogs, a hound of the Wild Hunt.’
He risked a glance at his aunt, trying to read her expression. He hoped she’d be pleased he’d worked it out. But as realization slowly crossed her face – the realization that he was right – she turned white.
‘No,’ she said. ‘Stormhounds are terrible creatures. Monsters who live only for the pleasure of hunting and destroying. If there was a stormhound here, it would kill everything in its path – animals, birds, people.’
David’s heart thumped. The shadows along the river looked suddenly threatening, as if each one might contain a stormhound getting ready to pounce.
‘Why would the professors want a stormhound?’ he asked. ‘I mean, if they’re that dangerous?’
‘Because they are created from magic. Their blood, bones, hair – every part of them – can be used in magic spells. Even the tears of a stormhound – if such a creature could ever cry – are said to heal all injuries. Just think of what the professors could do with that sort of power.’
David thought, and his mind led him in all sorts of unpleasant directions. He wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. ‘Friday the seventh on Mount Skirrid. That’s what was written on the map in the professors’ staffroom. Is that where the stormhound will be?’
‘Or where they’re planning to kill it.’ Ceridwen put a hand on his shoulder, her eyes like stone. ‘I’m here, remember, and it’s my job to protect you from this sort of thing. Tonight, I’ll renew our defence charms and I’ll cast a confusion spell over the town. That should distract the professors for a little while. We must use that time to find the stormhound and dispose of it. Before the professors find it, before it can do any harm.’
David knew his aunt didn’t like casting that much magic. This must be really serious.
‘You’ll need to end your friendship with the mortal girl too,’ Ceridwen said.
David’s heart dropped. ‘Jessie’s not my . . .’ He started to protest, but even as he spoke, the words felt wrong. He looked down at his feet. ‘I like her – she’s different.’ She was too. She’d seen through Ceridwen’s disguise spells and she seemed immune to the professors’ magic. An image rose into his mind: Jessie facing down his aunt, her dog growling like a storm cloud at her feet.
He pushed the image aside. If Jessie had any magic, she didn’t know about it, and it was better to keep it that way. He knew what Ceridwen did to people if she thought they were misusing magic. ‘You keep telling me I should behave like a human,’ he muttered, ‘and humans have friends.’
‘And you’re going to get your friend killed if you drag her into this,’ Ceridwen said harshly. ‘Have you considered that?’
No, of course he hadn’t. David squashed the ugly swell of guilt inside him. ‘I didn’t drag Jessie into anything. She kept asking questions. Was I supposed to ignore her?’
His aunt sighed. ‘Maybe it was a mistake to send you into that school on your own. I thought you could handle it. I keep forgetting how young you are.’
Now he felt doubly guilty – for putting Jessie in danger and for letting his aunt down. David kicked at the grass. ‘All right. Let me have one more day in school and I’ll tell Jessie I can’t be friends with her.’
‘You, wanting to go to school? You’ll be wanting to do homework and sit exams next.’ She smiled suddenly. ‘Come on. I’ll race you home.’
The air shimmered and the two people vanished. Seconds later, two white hares, one smaller and with a notched ear, bounded along the street in the direction of the river.