15.

What a choice. Turn Stella over or wait until Celeste hunts her down. I shouldn’t care, but somehow it’s not just Stella’s fault she’s changing, it’s mine, too. If I hadn’t taken her grandfather’s memories, I could’ve stopped this before it got out of hand. The old Stella would’ve listened to me and that’s who I’m worried about. She’s still in there, trapped inside the new one.

This monster I created, the monster I used to be.

But how much of it was me? How much was Celeste, taking away my guilt, wiping away any unpleasant memories to keep me, what?

Clean? Happy?

I just don’t know.

I spend the night listening for Stella footsteps. She’s hunting for me, wandering past the river and through the walkways, while I’m darting around the place like a scared rabbit. Needing to catch my breath, I crouch behind the knot garden’s hedges. Trouble is I can’t hear anyone coming, not any more. One minute I’m alone and the next she’s standing in front of me, moonlight shining from behind the branches, her face hidden by shadows. My breath catches in my throat. It’s not long before dawn, but there’s plenty of time for Stella to take whatever she wants.

Any thought of trying to convince her to listen goes out of my head. Where is Celeste? Stella’s eyes look wild and hungry.

We stare at each other for a single heartbeat and then, she lunges forward. Fast and graceful, a smaller version of Celeste in shorts and a singlet, she grabs at my arm. I dodge her hands, but only just, and run across the lawn.

‘Seth! Wait!’ She calls out and there’s something different, a new flavour sprinkled though my name — fear? No, ignore it. It’s probably a trick. Trolls twist words into hooks, sharp and quick to catch.

Taking a deep breath, I run through the knot garden. It’s a miniature English maze and the shrubs don’t even reach my waist. Stupid place to hide. My foot catches the manicured border and I stumble into knee-high brambles, crunching through branches, scraping my knees.

Two cold hands grab my arms. ‘I said wait.’

‘No.’ Bones pull in their sockets, sending pain down my arm. ‘Let go!’ I shout, pulling harder, trying to get loose. ‘You’re hurting me.’

‘Sorry.’ Her grip loosens, but she holds on. ‘You know it would help if you’d stop trying to get away.’

Wait, did she say sorry?

Another trick. It must be. I need to block the sound of her voice, I mustn’t listen.

As I pull harder, my feet slip against wet grass and I’m shouting at the black garden, ‘The Elizabethan-styled knot garden is based on a replica of Shakespeare’s own garden in Stratford on Avon and …’

‘What? Seth, listen …’

I roar out pieces of the gardener’s memory, using words to block her voice. ‘Planted in 1924 using box hedges, little is known about the sundial …’

But she shouts, louder. ‘Seth, I’m trying to tell you something!’

‘Don’t tell me your memories!’ Turning around, I struggle to see her expression. The night covers her skin and I can’t catch the details of her eyes. Almost spitting into her face, I’m shouting, ‘You were right! I’m turning human, thanks to you! Okay? I’m changing.’

Stella sucks in her breath but she doesn’t answer. Seconds slip between us. I can’t escape and she won’t speak or let me go. We stand there like two kids stuck in a frozen tug of war, and then she says, ‘You’ll have to guess.’

‘I … guess what?’

‘Something’s happened but I can’t tell you. If you still eat memories, I might forget, and I need to remember. So you’ll have to work it out for yourself.’

Thoughts flicker through my head, crashing into each other. She’s not trying to lose memories. She needs help. Stella’s fingers dig deeper and despite my aching arms and pounding heart, I’m worried.

‘Come on.’ Her words grow soft, coaxing. ‘Hurry up and guess … it should be easy.’

I shake my head. Up this close, I see her mouth moving, biting the lip. Some part of her is still human, but not much.

‘How should I know?’ I take a deep breath. ‘I’m guessing you turned into stone? During the day?’

She nods, sucking in another breath. ‘Go on.’

I think about my own skin and the burning warmth of sunlight. ‘But not totally? A thin layer of rock covered your body, maybe even your clothes.”

She nods again. ‘Keep guessing.’

‘But, I’m right? Aren’t I?’

‘I closed the curtains … I think. Mum was out all day, but I wasn’t scared. Nothing really frightens me any more and it’s great. That’s not what’s wrong.’

A breeze stirs, shifting fallen leaves, and it sounds like my garden is murmuring, passing comments along the pathways. I didn’t take her memory, probably because she used the words ‘I think’, but she doesn’t seem to notice. She’s hurrying towards the important part, the memory she can’t afford to lose. I’ll have to guess.

‘Stella, it’s nearly dawn.’ She’s flustered, maybe I can trick her into giving up the memory. ‘If you need to tell me something, hurry up.’

She glances up at the sky, her expression blank. ‘You’re right. I’ll have to show you.’ She pulls my arm, moving so fast I almost fall over, my feet sliding against the mud. ‘Seth, try not to trip over.’

I open my mouth but arguing with her isn’t an option. She’s stronger now. Her fingers tighten around my wrist, burning. But has she forgotten? I’m right about the dawn. We can’t waste time talking, we’ve got less than ten minutes.

After that, we’re both in trouble.

She drags me in front of her house, pointing at the open gate.

‘Um? You want me to go inside?’

The sun hasn’t found its way over the mountains yet, but a golden halo shimmers over the highest pines.

She sighs. ‘No, idiot, I could tell you that myself. It’s not a memory. Hurry up and guess why the gate’s open. I can’t touch it, somebody else did.’

Of course she can’t touch iron. The ache of metal isn’t strong like usual, but it’s still there. So who went through first? For a moment I thought Celeste had gotten to Stella, but she’d never get past the fence.

Stella points at the bars, stabbing the air with her finger. ‘Well? What do you think happened?’

I should walk away, leave her to deal with her own problems. But she looks worried, more like the old Stella, and if something’s wrong in the garden I need to know. It’s my home, my hiding place.

‘Okay, so someone went through the gate. Did they go into your house? No? Okay, so they must’ve walked from your house into the garden.’ She nods and her eyes squeeze tight, like she’s willing me to guess. I keep talking, trying to picture everything in my head. ‘Is someone looking for me? Your mum?’

‘No! This isn’t about you.’ She shakes my arm and my whole body wobbles. ‘Who do you think might’ve come out of this house? Who do you think I can’t find?’

My mouth drops open, the words almost falling out. ‘Oh. You mean Connor’s missing?’

‘Yes! Have you seen him?’

I look back at the garden, my eyes following hers, but I can’t make out trees let alone faces. To me, it’s gaping and black like an endless hole.

‘No, sorry.’

And then, a frown cracks her stone-faced expression. Even trolls feel fond of things, like a favourite bridge, moss-covered marble lions outside the winter glasshouses or pet bugs. Stella cares about Connor, still.

She looks down at her feet. ‘Do you have him?’

‘What? Of course not!’

‘Okay.’ She nods to herself, maybe tasting truth in my words. ‘Do you know any hiding places where I can look? Somewhere I haven’t already checked?’

Taking a deep breath, I say, ‘I remember what you said on the bridge. He likes visiting the duck ponds, right, and also …’

I stop, the words dissolve on my tongue — she’s taken the memory. But she just nods her head. ‘The aviary, it’s his favourite place. He’s obsessed with that talking bird.’

‘Oh, no.’

My human emotions feel raw. He’s just a little kid. Anything could happen to him. I pull her arm, pointing towards the winding pathway, towards the aviary. But Stella won’t move, it’s like trying to drag a giant redwood. ‘Come on.’

‘Why, what’s up there?’

‘That’s Celeste’s territory. She might hurt him — hurry.’

Shadows move across her face, bunching over her eyes. ‘Who?’

‘Another troll, bigger and stronger than us. But she’s dangerous and she knows about you … wait!’

Stella flings herself forward, dragging me off my feet.

‘Wait!’ I gasp again, struggling to keep up. But she’s racing ahead into the darkness, towards the aviary and I’m chasing a shadow. ‘You don’t know Celeste, it’ll be a trap!’

But she keeps running.