Sam was in pain. Not just in his arm. Everywhere. He didn’t know where it came from. But Bladder was dead and Maggie’s army outnumbered his.
The polar bear had bent into a fur-bagel. The fairies lay in collected heaps and a few goblins were counting them. One-i’-the-Wood remained curled with his children. Kylie drooped against Russell’s leg. At first Sam thought she was dead, but then she lolled her head, telling him there was some life left in her. Monsters converged on the humans and human-types and blinked. Daniel’s marks were holding, making Sam’s friends appear rancid and inedible.
It wouldn’t stop the monsters killing them. Not for long.
The earth shook as Bombottom thumped towards the cage and barrel.
The sirens screeched as Bombottom reached in and removed the little one from her family. The baby cried. Sam didn’t think the little siren could have sung even if she’d wanted to. Bombottom held the baby siren gently (as least he’d learned that lesson) and he winked at Sam. Sam guessed the stupid thing thought he was doing what Sam wanted.
The great ogre stomped over and put the baby in Maggie’s arms, then walked towards Sam smiling.
‘I couldn’t leave her there,’ Wheedle said, looking at Nugget. And then he cried. ‘Should I have left her with the sirens? Then the song … Can’t you order them to stop, Sam?’ Wheedle asked. ‘They think you’re the ogre king.’
The older sirens screeched, pulled against their chains, sang songs that hurt everyone’s ears, but they had no songs to baffle ogres. They were not concerned with Maggie’s bidding any more.
Sam marvelled. The baby siren meant that much to them?
There was no more singing, and without a song, humans began waking. The shifter children too. They gasped to see the ogres looming over them.
The Kavanaghs peeked through the heavy blanket over their cage; Sam could just glimpse their grey features. Fear reached for him. It was mightier and stronger than Bombottom’s fist.
One-i’-the-Wood was back under the blanket, helping them out of the cage, Sam hoped. That’s what they’d all risked their lives for.
He looked to where he’d seen his shifter friends last. Their eyes and mouths were open in wide silent Os. The monsters took steps towards them, and the young trolls holding them scarpered to let the ogres have their prey. The adult shifters, still dazed, gaped around with furrowed brows and twisted mouths, as if wondering what to do. Spigot, Amira, Wilfred and Hazel backed in to each other.
‘Spigot!’ Wheedle yelled and ran.
Sam shot after the stone bull as Spigot squawked and positioned himself between the advancing ogres and the dazed shifter children.
Then Wheedle was at Spigot’s side. The gargoyle turned on the ogres. ‘You’ll have to come through me first,’ he said.
‘And us,’ yelled Gouttière as his pack marched towards the children, stone fangs showing. The other gargoyles filed in with him.
Sam ran to them, though he knew it was hopeless. The ogres would smash the gargoyles, and then pluck up the shifter children.
And Nugget. She had been safer in the sirens’ barrel.
Their defence would give Hazel, Wilfred and Amira only a little extra time alive. Yonah hung upside down from Wilfred, her tangled claw still trapping her to his jumper.
‘You don’t have to,’ Wheedle said to Plomberie.
‘No one has ever called me beautiful before. For a few moments of my whole existence, I feel wanted. I ’ave a purpose.’
Gouttière nodded, peered at Amira’s terrified face and gave her a strained smile. ‘Be’ind me, Princess,’ he said.
‘Smash them all,’ Maggie said. ‘Except the prince. Don’t you dare hurt him.’
‘Please, no,’ Sam cried out. ‘Please.’
The ogres stopped moving. The ones at the front of the troop were old, with twisted grimaces, but the few at the back hid their big soft faces in their hands. One peeked over Bombottom’s shoulder, watching Wheedle with a sad expression.
Sam elbowed the stone bull. ‘Who’s that? He’s staring at you.’
‘Cob?’ Wheedle said.
The ogre shrank at the sound of his name, but Bombottom moved forward, leering over Wheedle.
Wheedle shoved Nugget at Spigot. ‘Well, it looks like we are all going down together!’ He didn’t look one bit frightened to Sam. Sad, but not frightened. Sam marvelled at Wheedle’s courage.
Nugget hung limply in Spigot’s wings. ‘Fren,’ she sighed, and peered over to where Maggie held her siren playmate.
‘Wait,’ Wheedle hissed urgently. ‘There’s only six Old Ones here.’
Sam peered at the gargoyle. ‘What do you mean?’
‘The new ones, young ones. Most of her army is made of them. You have to look closely – some of them are huge – but it’s the faces. Look at their faces. They’re terrified.’
‘So?’ Sam said.
‘Where are the others, Cob?’ Wheedle called out. ‘Why are you doing this?’
The young ogre peered around Bombottom’s elbow. ‘Have to, Wheedle, or she’ll do to us what they did to Bladder.’ His eyes brightened with tears. Sam stared with wonder at the clear gem that travelled down the ogre’s face. He must be dreaming. Ogres didn’t cry.
‘What are you doing?’ Maggie shrilled. ‘Destroy the gargoyles and eat those children.’
Spigot held Nugget tightly, looking for a break in the crowd to whisk her through. It was his fault she was there. He studied the ogres, looking for a weak spot. Few of the ogres appeared eager to kill. The bloodthirsty ones pushed towards the gargoyles while the younger monsters hung back.
He’d seen Cob’s face too, the ogre’s huge paws rubbing at his eyes and runny nose.
Why are the younger ones so different? What’s changed?
‘Hold! Hold! Hold your ground!’ Gouttière yelled to the gargoyles.
The rest of Sam’s army had awakened from the horrible lullaby, and the sirens’ caterwauling echoed across the Great Cavern as they clawed at their chains and hurled yowls at Maggie. The sound of their pain meant no enchantment filled the huge space.
Sam’s army had wakened wounded and defenceless. Too many swords had been bent and damaged to make the silver tree, and there were a hundred monsters and imps for every member of Sam’s army. Even though it would take twenty pixies to take down one adult, there were enough to do it. If they wanted.
Those that could still fight battled to reach the shifter children and the gargoyles, and Sam heard the shifter parents yelling their children’s names, but the goblins held them off.
An old ogre reached out a claw and grabbed Plomberie by the throat. Wilfred yelled and grabbed the gargoyle’s stone rump, pulling her backwards. The gargoyle gagged. The younger monsters turned their heads. They didn’t want to help the murderers, but the half a dozen vicious, older beasts were enough to destroy all the gargoyles and eat three unprotected children.
Spigot’s gaze returned to Cob’s face. What’s changed?
He looked down at Nugget and then up at her new friend, the little siren, squirming in Maggie’s arms.
Spigot’s grey eyes widened. He knew. He knew what had caused all these weird things.
He knew the humans couldn’t understand him, but he hoped someone would. He opened his mouth to screech a word he loved, one that would solve everything. He looked for Wheedle, who was baring his teeth at a growling, older ogre.
Bombottom threw back his head and bellowed. The ground and air shook with the sound of war. A circle of red clay gargoyles barricaded the children, encircling them, the last line of defence, while the gargoyles made of stone and granite charged at the ogres. As they collided, the cavern filled with a sound like rock hitting rock, and there were awful cracks as gargoyle limbs and gargoyle heads broke apart.
As the older ogres charged forward, the younger monsters – ogres, trolls, goblins – huddled back. They weren’t joining the fight, but they weren’t helping Sam’s army either.
Spigot yelled his word with all of his might, but no one heard him over the din.
Then a light flashed, a wall-shuddering roar exploded over them all and a glowing bead knocked Spigot to the ground.
Sam lay on his back, winded. The explosion had blown him closer to the dais and he could hear the wailing of ogres and the crying of trolls and goblins. Pixies and brownies wept.
The roar had been so powerful it had toppled Maggie. The beautiful banshee lay on the dais floor. She could have been sleeping. She looked so lovely, the little siren so recently in her arms huddled next to her.
Sam squinted at the brightness. It wasn’t a single light. It was a group of tiny lights, beautiful and sparkling. He had seen something like them before.
They dropped like stars towards the ground.
But instead of hitting dirt, they veered in all directions. Glowing pink, blue, orange, green, yellow and white, they shot into the gargoyles, throwing them back across the dirt with such force that some of the stone creatures flew, despite their wings being made of mud and limestone. Even the gargoyles that lay in pieces did not escape the eager orbs. Each torso glowed.
‘What ’as ’appened?’ Sam turned his head to see Gouttière sitting up and holding his head. It hadn’t fallen off, but nearly. Sam heard the sizzle and then the gargoyle exhaled in relief.
Plomberie groaned, legs scattered around her. They weren’t only hers. Grey granite pieces lay everywhere.
The Great Cavern was full of ogres in prone positions, huddling on the floor with paws over their eyes, while Sam’s army sat crumpled on the dirt, staring, confused.
Only Bombottom remained upright. The ogre’s meaty arms and claws were still waving above his head in an attack stance, although he scanned the scene with a stunned, stupid expression.
Sam’s head hurt, his finger pointed at an odd angle to his hand and his body ached, but all his pain melted away as he saw something emerging out of a cloud of dust. It was one of the most beautiful things he’d ever seen: a great living, breathing orange-brown lion bounded towards the shifter children, its wings spread larger than Daniel’s.
Sam struggled up and ran forward.
‘Oi!’ the beautiful lion yelled over to Bombottom. ‘You leave them kids alone! They’re friends of mine.’
Bombottom roared at the lion and grabbed at Gouttière. The gargoyle’s monkey face twisted in pain and panic. With everyone else cowering, Bombottom menaced them all, looking dangerous. The ogre bared its fangs at the children and lifted the gargoyle over its head. ‘Will smash!’
Cob’s face appeared behind Bombottom’s shoulder. He was a head shorter than the old ogre, but he was holding something in his fist. Sam watched as the young ogre brought a lump of stone crashing down on to Bombottom’s head. It thwacked hollowly, and the ogre hit the ground. Gouttière fell on to the ogre’s back, which softened the fall a little. The gargoyle cracked anyway, but only one leg fell off.
‘I’z always liked gumgoyles,’ Cob said. ‘Doan hurt ’em.’
‘Hey, Cob?’ the winged lion said.
Cob frowned. ‘Who are you?’
‘It’s me, Bladder,’ the great winged lion replied. ‘Sammy, you look pale. Why’re you all looking at me funny?’
Wheedle rushed forward. ‘I think you need to look at yourself, Bladder. Very closely.’
Bladder picked up a paw. ‘What in the world … ?’ He patted his face. ‘I’m furry.’ He swung a golden wing around so he could see it. ‘An’ feathery. Well, would you look at that.’ He flapped the wings just a little and lifted ten feet off the ground. ‘Whoa!’ he said, and those below cheered.
When he landed, Wheedle ran into his forepaws, putting his dirty tear-stained snout into the magnificent ruff of the flying lion, and a crowd of shifters and gargoyles pushed forward to pat him and welcome him back.
Sam glanced over to see One-i’-the-Wood holding the blanket to one side. Daisy offered Michelle her hand as she climbed through a hole in the side of the cage. Then he saw the top of Nick’s head.
It’s all going to be OK, Sam thought. He smiled. It was all he had the energy for before his knees gave way.
Spigot lay in the dirt laughing. He couldn’t help himself.
‘Get up, you duffer,’ Bladder said. ‘I don’t look that funny.’
Spigot wasn’t laughing at Bladder.
Pixies and brownies stared at him with boggling eyes.
Spigot laughed harder. He couldn’t help it. Nugget squatted next to him; she giggled too.
He found it impossible to breathe, which was silly, as he’d never had to breathe before, but he guessed, maybe from the light-headedness that comes with lack of oxygen, that the changes beginning inside him were the same ones that had started in Bladder all that time ago. And they’d ignored them all.
He slapped himself, hardly surprised to see a chip fly off his beak. It wasn’t just the monsters that were changing.
He tried to get up and fell over again. Everyone saw him, the crazy stone eagle who couldn’t stop giggling. He lay there, getting back his breath.
He opened his mouth to squawk and surprised himself by speaking like Bladder and Wheedle. ‘Sam,’ he said.
‘Ooh,’ Wheedle gushed. ‘He said a word everyone understood.’
‘Sam,’ Spigot said again. He shook his head and waved his wings around, including everything in the Great Cavern in his wave. ‘Sam,’ he said, pointing at Nugget and the little siren. ‘Sam!’ he said, pointing at Bladder. ‘Sam,’ he said, beating his own birdy chest with his wings. ‘Sam.’ The old beasts began retreating to the darkness, while the younger ogres and trolls came close enough to peer at him. He pointed at them and repeated, ‘Sam.’
The monsters, imps, fairies, humans, half-humans and anything else present studied him like he’d gone completely barmy, and maybe he had. Spigot fell on the ground again, chipping off a bit of his wing and not caring. He laughed at the Great Cavern’s ceiling and said ‘Sam’ quietly. If no one else understood, at least he did.
‘Hey, where is Sam?’ Daniel asked.
Sam lay in a crumpled heap not far from where Spigot was writhing in the dirt and the gargoyles were checking each other for cracks. He was halfway between the dais and the wall Bladder had been smashed against, and he wished he could see more. People, animals and fairies were running around the golden lion. Pixies seemed to be giving directions. He couldn’t see any of the big ogres on that side and it didn’t look like anyone was trying to kill anyone. He saw Daniel turn away from Bladder.
What is he looking for? he wondered.
Bladder’s mane glowed stronger than Daniel’s hair. Sam closed his eyes and let them flutter open again. As bad as he felt, he didn’t want to miss anything. Bladder made a most magnificent lion. Daniel and the small group of angels managed to hover off the ground again – hope had reignited to fuel the heavenly beings – and Sam saw the cherub fluttering towards the shifter children.
She better thumbprint them quickly, Sam thought.
But it didn’t look like anyone wanted to eat them. He could only see one soft-faced ogre, Cob, and the poor thing looked terrified. Sam turned his head in the other direction and felt a little seasick. Maggie was crouched on all fours on the dais. Her red hair lashed her face as she turned to look at her new guards: a group of gargoyles, some older shifters and Two-i’-the-Wood, who jabbed her with a twiggy finger. A frown scarred her beautiful features. Next to her, two ogres sat on the edge of the stage, six well-armed ’thropes pointing their swords at them. Had this been battle, six wouldn’t have been enough, but too many of the younger monsters and imps were scurrying around trying to be useful to the humans. With Maggie defeated, the old ogres had no one to lead them. And the young ones didn’t want to follow.
Something reflected near the base of the dais, and Sam saw Maggie’s silver tin lying in the dirt. It had been trampled under too many feet. Sam wanted to tell them not to hurt Maggie, but he found the words did not come. She’d been willing to kill them all to get him back, and he thought her lucky that fairies hadn’t joined the group keeping her captive; she might have got more than prodded.
A ’thrope woman had picked up the baby siren and was carrying her back to the barrel. Wheedle watched nervously as Nugget followed them, and the two infant monsters waved back and forth at each other.
Kylie came sniffing through the filth, gave an excited yap when she came upon Sam, and licked his face. ‘Are you all right?’ she asked. ‘She can’t hurt you now.’
‘Hey, Kylie.’
‘Can you sit up?’ Kylie asked.
Sam strained to get himself into a seated position, and his hand ached. He felt foggy, fuzzy, as if his body were creating its own fairy dust to dull the pain that was going to hit him soon.
‘I’m tired, Kylie,’ he said.
‘Tired is good. It’s not dying.’
Sam was relieved to see Daniel push his way towards the three shifter children and give them a quick thumbprint. ‘Just in case,’ the angel said.
Sam realised they could all see the winged being. Amira’s eyes were wide; her mouth was so far open he could see the back of her throat. The darkness of The Hole, probably, making the angelic glow obvious.
Sam watched as a group of pixies, brownies and other imps poked Cob the ogre in the back, away from the unconscious Bombottom, and forced him closer to the dais and the gargoyles.
Gouttière, Plomberie and their stone packs peered at Cob, eyebrows raised. The young ogre had just saved a gargoyle’s life.
Cob climbed on to the dais. ‘Doan hurt us, will you?’ he said to the gargoyles. His eyes darted to Maggie, but she looked as frightened as the others.
Sam wanted to tell Cob it would be OK. ‘Sam?’ Daniel called out.
‘Over here,’ Kylie barked.
It felt like every gaze fell on him. He struggled under the weight of their attention.
‘Let me see him,’ Bladder said.
‘Coming through,’ Wheedle added.
From near the cage, Richard’s voice yelled out. ‘Is he all right?’
Daniel’s face was abruptly nose to nose with him. ‘Sam? What’s the matter?’
‘I can’t smell anything but that awful fairy dust,’ Kylie said.
‘Hey,’ Milkthistle replied. ‘You watch what you say about our dust.’
Sam let his good hand fall. He’d yanked his busted hand so much to wake himself from Maggie’s spell that it looked like One-i’-the-Wood’s twiggy fingers.
Daniel grimaced. ‘He’s in shock. Don’t worry, Sam, it’ll be fine in a minute.’ Then the angel took his broken hand and held it. The first second was an agony, and he almost passed out to escape it, but then the pain ran out of him, from his shoulder to his elbow, out of his hand and away. ‘See,’ Daniel said. ‘When the body is in pain, it doesn’t know what it feels like to not hurt, but when a body is healthy, pain, even recent pain, becomes a distant memory. It’s very like a heart that way.’
Sam sat up.
A crowd had gathered around him; members from Sam’s army as well as many monster faces studied him. Everyone looked as nervous as Cob.
Bladder breathed egg-sandwich breath in Sam’s face. ‘Someone restrain those harpies before they sing again.’
‘I don’t think they will,’ Wheedle said.
Sam followed the bull’s gaze to the barrel. The older sirens hugged their little one, while Nugget splashed around in the water.
‘My family?’ Sam said. ‘Are they all right?’
‘Just having a little refreshment,’ One-i’-the-Wood’s voice responded. ‘Three be sortin’ them out some tea.’
‘Tea? Where’d he get that from?’ the voice of a parched shifter asked.
‘My children are always prepared to make a cuppa.’
‘Sounds lovely.’
‘Samuel!’ Maggie screamed from the dais. ‘It’s not too late.’
Several hands helped Sam up. He walked to the platform and gazed up and over the edge. Maggie’s had acquired some extra fairy guards, and they were poking her with their needle swords. She didn’t seem to notice.
‘Too late for what?’ Sam asked.
‘We belong together, you and me.’
Sam nodded. She was part of his history and his life. Maybe it had occurred to her too.
‘We are monsters, you and me, no matter how we appear. We must have power, both of us. Look at you with your army. Can you not see it?’
Sam sighed. She still didn’t understand. ‘I don’t have power over these people. They’re my friends.’
‘You don’t need friends, Sam.’
‘Yes, I do. And family too. In a way, you’re my family as well.’ Sam climbed on to the dais and reached for her. He held her hand. ‘I don’t want power over you, Maggie. I love you.’
Maggie shrieked. At first, Sam thought it was anger, but then she began to glow. Her hair turned grey as the fairy magic burned off and she looked fragile: not a crone, just an old woman with a sad expression. Where Sam’s hands had been on her arms, her skin greyed further, like granite, like dust.
She stared at him and a tear slid from her eye as her face crumbled and she fell to the stage in a pile of dust.
The two old ogres pushed past the half a dozen guards who had been stabbing swords into their buttocks and ran as fast as they could to reach any exit.
The ’thropes’ voices lifted in a gleeful cheer, but faded as quickly. Sam put his face in the crumbled pile.
Daniel put his hand on Sam’s shoulder, disturbing the dust. A little green stone spilt out. A banshee bead. It was all that was left of Maggie.
‘Sam?’ Spigot said.
Wheedle stared at Spigot. What is that bird going on about? His first word: ‘Sam’. He’d kept saying it.
Wheedle looked at all the things Spigot had gestured at. The whole cavern, including the piles of beads; Nugget and the little siren up in the barrel; Bladder; himself; even the young monsters. What did he mean?
Yonah had appeared too and was cooing beside Spigot. Wheedle moved closer and sat quietly at the edge, watching over the shifter children, a few fairies and a lot of bewildered gargoyles. His heart beat quicker and it felt good seeing Sam wander by, although his face looked so long he could have been a goblin.
D.I. Kintamani and Dr Kokoni walked over with Nugget and the little siren. Both were soggy and dribbled water down the shifter parents’ clothes. Wheedle glanced up at the barrel; a flight of pixies was working on unlocking the sirens’ chains. He wasn’t too sure who’d said that was OK, though they hadn’t tried to harm Nugget at all.
He took a closer look at Nugget. Her surface was flattened and dark. She was made of real fur, not fur-shaped stone.
‘How did that happen?’ Wheedle asked.
‘It just came off, in the bath,’ Wilfred said. ‘The concrete stuff. It dissolved away.’
‘Like it did with Bladder,’ Amira added.
‘Yeah,’ said Bladder. ‘It did feel like peeling a layer of skin.’
‘Sam,’ Spigot repeated.
Wheedle stared at Spigot. ‘Sam? That’s all he keeps saying.’ He frowned at the stone eagle. ‘Oh my goodness. Of course.’
‘Sam?’ Bladder asked.
‘Spigot’s the smartest out of the lot of us. He always was. Sam did this. He changed us. He changed you. You’ve been getting weirder ever since he put your heart back together.’
‘Weirder? Who are you callin’ … ?’
‘Don’t interrupt. You’ve been eating funny for a gargoyle. Like you need real food, and not just for taste.’ Wheedle reached for Nugget, who put her arms out for him. ‘Sam sneezed on the bean that hatched Nugget, and he breathed on the one that hatched the little siren. We’ve been thinking they were bad first efforts, but what if they are exactly the kind of monsters Sam would produce? He’s made them lovely, sweet and living. They’re not monsters at all. What if they’re the way Sam will always make them?’ Wheedle peered at the pixies struggling with the sirens. ‘Do you remember when we first met Cob and his company? They were nice. What if, when the old king dies, the new generation become more like their new king? These young ones weren’t hatched long before Thunderguts was ashed, and they wouldn’t remember him. They’re too young. They would be waiting for their new ruler and their new ruler’s way of being.’
‘Sam’s the new king?’ One-i’-the-Wood asked.
‘The new ogre king? Maggie’s been telling us he is: what if she was right?’
‘And those lights, Sam caused these too?’ Gouttière asked.
Wheedle looked around for Sam. He was sitting by himself, his face all covered in ash. Best to leave him alone for the minute. ‘I don’t know. Maybe.’
‘It’s burning in me. What is it?’ Plomberie asked.
‘A soul,’ Daniel replied.
The pack of gargoyles chatted and checked, asking each other what they felt.
‘I am different, it is true. I feel more like …’ Gouttière started.
‘Myself,’ Plomberie finished.
‘I just feel gassy right now,’ Bladder said. ‘Is this what happens when you get a real body?’
‘Only if you eat too much egg,’ Daniel said.
‘I didn’t know that,’ Bladder said. ‘Thanks for the tip.’
The pack turned on Daniel. ‘You knew this would happen?’ Wheedle said.
‘The souls, yes. Always,’ Daniel replied. ‘But the rest of it only became clearer recently.’
‘Sam?’ Wheedle looked for him again.
Sam wandered over to where the Kavanaghs stood sipping their tea.
His family was free. He wished he felt happier.
He felt selfish. He wanted everything: happy Kavanaghs, happy friends, happy pack, happy monsters, but a happy Maggie too.
All that was left of Maggie was lying at the bottom of a pile of dirt.
Richard grabbed Sam. ‘Sam. Our Sam. My Sam.’ He sobbed. Sam couldn’t tell why – whether it was exhaustion, relief, happiness or all of them. He felt it himself and surrendered to the embrace.
Then he shared the same with Michelle and Nick. ‘You came back to us,’ Michelle said.
‘Of course I did. I wasn’t going to leave you in the cage forever.’
Nick and Michelle laughed. Richard continued to sob. Michelle stumbled, weak and pale, and a trio of trolls pulled up a few rocks for them to sit on. The trolls looked shyly at Sam and blushed at his thanks.
‘Sam,’ Wheedle called. The crowd around the gargoyles had grown, and a few of them were monsterkind. The hubbub grew as people, fairies and monsters chatted amongst themselves.
‘You go, let us catch our breath here,’ Michelle said.
Sam dragged himself over to where a huddle of angels, gargoyles and others talked with great energy. Kylie barked at him to hurry.
The throng, as large as the one Sam had seen on his hatching day, parted for him, and though there were many human faces in the group, there were ogres and trolls too. A boggart waved its sinuous arms at him. A group of pixies ran alongside him like eager children at a parade.
He turned to see the Kavanaghs sitting, and half-smiled when he saw a cherub put her hand on each head, the colour of life returning.
Finally, Sam stood in the centre of the crowd and stared at Bladder. He couldn’t help it; the winged lion gave off more colour than anything else in The Hole, even the fairies. He leaned in and embraced the warm fur.
Wheedle held out his hoof. ‘Sam?’
‘Whatever it is, Wheedle, can it wait?’ he said. ‘I just want to go home.’
‘I don’t think it can, Sam. I need you to breathe on this.’ Wheedle held a bright green bean. It was Maggie’s bean. Hot tears pricked Sam’s eyes.
‘Why don’t we do it another time?’
‘It’s important, Sam.’
‘I don’t have any fairy dust.’ Then he peered at the bead. Even if he could bring Maggie back, would she be as fragile as Nugget? And who would she be? What would the dust do to her?
‘There might be some in the cave,’ Cob said. ‘Or a fairy could give you some.’
Milkthistle growled.
Wheedle grinned. ‘Just breathe, Sam. I’m guessing the fairy dust doesn’t help anyway. If anything, it slows things down.’
Sam shook his head. What was the point?
‘Sam!’ Spigot shrieked and exhaled cool gutter air into his face. When Sam didn’t move, the stone bird did it again. Yonah clambered up the gargoyle’s neck. She looked a lot whiter and more chipper than she had half an hour before. She rubbed her snowy cheek on Sam’s.
‘All right,’ Sam replied, and he exhaled. The tiny egg did nothing. It sat in Wheedle’s hoof looking stoneish, rockish, lifeless.
Just as Sam expected.
The crowd sighed. A unified sound of disappointment.
‘I told you, no dust. If the fairies give us some dust, maybe …’
The nugget tipped. Sam didn’t see Wheedle move his hoof, but he must have.
The stone cracked.
The crowd oohed.
A huddle of pixies squealed and ran off. Sam expected they didn’t want Maggie back. He touched the egg with a fingertip. It felt warm. He smiled. It couldn’t? Could it?
Wheedle grinned.
Sam felt a hand on his shoulder. Michelle. He turned; the Kavanaghs and Daniel stood with him.
A chip of the egg flew off and a little glow like white opal shone through the small hole, then the top of a head poked out. A flash of bright red hair. The shell cracked away and a tiny cheerful face appeared with pretty green eyes and a button nose. Wheedle put down the creature before it became bigger than his hand. The limbs grew out, straight and slim. The focus of the green eyes never left Sam’s face. A brownie screamed.
‘Maggie,’ a young ogre said in a despairing tone.
When she was no bigger than Beatrice, Wilfred wrapped his jumper around her pale infant body.
‘Tham?’ little Maggie said.
Sam’s eyes felt hot. They ached. He put a hand to her cheek. He pulled it away as if stung. ‘She’s warm.’
Daniel reached down and touched her other cheek. Maggie snuggled against the angel’s touch. He slid two fingers to her throat and bowed his head. He let them sit there for a few seconds. The angel blinked. ‘She has a pulse.’
‘What does that mean?’ Sam asked.
‘It means she has a heart, Sam.’
Baby Maggie sent sparkles at Sam, as light and colourful as any Beatrice gave off. ‘Tham?’
Nugget and the baby siren scampered between Sam’s knees and hugged the new baby.
Sam reached out to touch Nugget. She looked furry.
She was furry!
Nugget and the little siren clapped. It set off a string of clappings and cheerings until Bladder roared in his rich, living roar and everything quietened.
An ogre reached out and grabbed Sam around the waist and put him on the dais.
‘His Majesty, Samuel Kavanagh, the ogre king,’ Wheedle called out.
The crowd thundered so loudly again, even Bladder couldn’t quieten them, and he didn’t even try as the three monster babies clambered up his fur.