That night, Sam couldn’t sleep. He sat on the Kavanagh roof with his eyes closed. It was 2 a.m.
Daniel had visited, hung around for two minutes, then flown off, saying he’d find out what could be done. He hadn’t returned, and Sam had given up on seeing the angel again that night and was waiting for his thoughts to settle so he could go back to bed. Time seemed to slow when he was tired.
He wasn’t getting much conversation out of anyone else. Wheedle lay belly up on the tiles and rock solid like a toppled statue. Bladder had slid off to the furthest corner of the roof and was rocking Nugget in gentle paw. The tiny gargoyle whined at him. When Bladder thought someone was watching, he grimaced as if it were all too difficult, but as soon as Wheedle fell to stony sleep, the lion’s face softened and he purred at the baby gargoyle. Spigot looked content with Yonah snoozing on his back, peering over his shoulder repeatedly as if he was worried the dove might disappear.
Time whispered on. Eventually even Nugget fell asleep between Bladder’s paws and the lion gargoyle turned to stone to stand over and protect the baby. Sam put his back to them and tried hard to fall into a nap.
The air whooshed and in a blurring glow of white Daniel sat next to him, his legs dangling by Sam’s over the edge of the roof. They sat together in silence for a bit and watched owls wing from tree to tree through the park opposite.
‘She’s getting desperate to find you,’ Daniel said finally.
‘Yes. Did you find out what the stuff about talking waves meant? And about the coming danger? Who’s in danger? Does she mean the gargoyles? The rest of the pack? The Kavanaghs?’
Daniel shrugged. ‘We don’t know, but it wasn’t very wise of you to say you’d meet her, and to let her know you were coming. That’s if she shows up. Perhaps she won’t find Kylie and her human … Here’s hoping.’
‘Russell and Kylie were going to tell all their friends at the centre, and others in the street. It’s likely she’ll find one of them.’
‘You haven’t had any sleep tonight, have you?’
Sam shook his head. ‘Only a little. And it wasn’t good. I want this over and done with. I’ve got to let her know I can’t help her, that I’m not who she thinks I am. You have to help me. The Kavanaghs aren’t going to let me go out tomorrow night by myself, unless you give them a strong suggestion. You can come with me. She can’t do anything while you’re around, right?’
‘Theoretically,’ Daniel agreed. ‘But in a lot of situations, especially ones humans get themselves into, an angel’s wings are tied. We aren’t allowed to do anything that is a challenge to free will, you know that. If you choose to go, you have to deal with the consequences. What if she sends monsters to grab you?’
‘I don’t want to fight monsters either, so the best way to do that is not to make them in the first place. She has to know I won’t help her.’
‘She’s a banshee, Sam, remember that. She’s been manipulating your family for millennia. She’ll think she can get you to do anything she wants if she puts it the right way.’
‘I don’t want her hurting strangers because she’s looking for me, and what if she finds my friends or my family? Or my pack? They’re not up to fighting an army of monsters.’
Sam peered at Wheedle. He was snoring. Bladder’s eyes were open, but stone. Nugget lay awake, curled into a ball between Bladder’s paws with her thumb stuck in her mouth. She stared at Sam with bright, interested eyes. ‘Tham? Snuggy Nuggee?’
‘Sure, Nugget.’
The little gargoyle lunged over to him, buried herself beneath his jacket and cuddled up to his face. Her little stone cheek chilled him, but he couldn’t turn her away. In seconds, her eyes fluttered closed.
‘I had a nightmare about what Kylie told us,’ he said.
‘That’s not good.’
‘No,’ Sam replied. He shuffled over and leaned on Daniel, stealing his warmth. ‘Can you check on Kylie and Russell? Then I can …’ He couldn’t remember what the other thing was.
‘Let me do something to help for tonight at least,’ Daniel said.
Daniel put up two more blessings. It took about ten minutes.
‘They’re pretty,’ Sam said. He yawned.
‘Appearance doesn’t matter. What matters is that nothing will come looking for you.’ Daniel dusted his hands. They glowed pink. ‘Even if Maggie sends troops to search for you, they won’t notice the house. They won’t even see a street here; they’ll wander right by and go somewhere else. The whole Kavanagh family is as invisible as you can get. You could just stay in hiding …’
‘No, I can’t, Daniel. Some problems need to be faced.’
‘All right, but not now. You look worse than Wheedle.’ Daniel put his hand on Sam’s head. ‘There. That’s a touch of sleep.’
‘A touch of sleep?’
‘You have about ten minutes before it hits you. Nothing will wake you for the next few hours, and your sleep will go back to normal.’
Sam gave a weak smile. He did want to sleep.
Daniel waved and left. Sam needed to get back to bed. He tried to put Nugget down, but she clung to him. Finally, he gave in, scaling back to his room with the gargoyle at his chest. He tucked her into his bed and she scooched over, her thumb back in her mouth. He climbed in beside her and fell asleep.
Sam’s bedroom door clicked as Richard opened it. ‘You are still there!’ he said. ‘I’ve been calling and calling you. We went to church without you. Thought you’d be up when we got back. It’s three p.m. Your … Michelle has been worried.’ Richard shook his head. ‘But you obviously needed the sleep, you’re looking much better than you did last night at dinner. Thought you were coming down with something.’
Sam looked at his clock – it did read 3 p.m. That wasn’t right. He’d gone to bed more than twelve hours before.
Sam pushed back the bedclothes. Nugget had gone, but his sheets were dust grey.
Sam liked Sundays. They were lazy even without the extra sleep, and he ended up by himself watching TV. Nick had gone out with his friends.
He listened to Michelle and Richard pottering around the house, until they started one of their low-voice conversations. He filtered it out. Their talks about him always left him confused and bothered. At one point in the day, he did feel quite solitary, but he didn’t mind. It was nice being alone sometimes. He needed to be alone to think about what he would say to Maggie tonight. He also knew, if Daniel wouldn’t prompt the Kavanaghs to let him out when he asked, he’d have to sneak out. He hated even thinking about doing that to them. It seemed so dishonest.
When Nick came home, Sam heard the front door give a shrill whine on hinges that needed oiling, and dark settled over the street outside. Maggie would be out soon and he could catch the bus to town. He put on his puffer jacket and shoved pocket money into his jeans. He took a deep breath. He hadn’t seen Daniel all day and he guessed even an angel’s suggestions could only go so far. People could ignore them if they chose, and the Kavanaghs had never let him out at night before. He wondered how to bring it up.
He walked into the kitchen.
‘There you are, Sam,’ Michelle said. ‘Don’t you look handsome? And ready to go out. You must have read my mind.’ Michelle and Richard exchanged a look. ‘We’re thinking of a family outing. Fancy going out to dinner?’
That blasted angel, Sam thought. Then he realised that the only way for Daniel to get Richard and Michelle to let him into town in the evening would have been for them to take him. Oh well, Sam did fancy a dinner out. He felt hungry. He’d been stressed, and at least he’d be with family. He’d have to work out how to keep them far away from where he met Maggie. He hoped he wasn’t walking them into a trap.
When Sam didn’t answer, Richard felt his forehead. ‘You look pale again, like yesterday. You sure you’re not coming down with something? We don’t have to go out.’
Sam faked a smile. ‘Nope, I feel fine. Let’s do this.’
Sam and Nick sat in the back of the car. Beatrice burbled between them. ‘Tham, Tham, Tham,’ she said at Sam, and then turned her attention to Nick. ‘Ni, Ni, Ni.’
‘I think she’s saying your names,’ Michelle said. ‘Mama? Can you say Mama?’
‘Mama,’ Beatrice replied, and flew a handful of pink stars at Michelle.
‘Dada.’ Michelle pointed at Richard.
Beatrice mimicked her. ‘Dada.’
Sam envied her. Michelle was never going to point at herself and Richard and expect Sam to say those words. Sigh.
‘Nick,’ Michelle carried on.
‘Ni.’
‘Sam?’
‘Tham, Tham, Tham.’ Beatrice smacked Sam with a stuffed giraffe and laughed.
‘Clever girl,’ Michelle said.
Sam stroked Beatrice’s hand and she threw coloured sparkles through his hair.
Despite Sam’s misgivings, the night started out great. There were people everywhere, and no sign of Maggie. They went to the pier and played in the arcade. Richard held Beatrice so that Michelle could challenge the boys, and then Michelle proceeded to complain about how many coppers she’d lost. Nick and Sam went on a few of the driving games by themselves. When the last of the shops closed on the high street, they wandered towards a quiet restaurant down The Lanes.
Sam had a piece of pie. He drank lemonade and ate ice cream. It had been dark before they left the pier, and it was even darker by the time they left the restaurant. The angelic sleep lifted him and he felt good, despite himself.
‘Come on, time to go home,’ Michelle said.
‘Do we have to?’ Nick asked.
Sam remembered why he was in town in the first place. He couldn’t leave.
‘Can I stay out too?’ he asked.
Beatrice hung limply in Michelle’s arms. ‘She really needs to go to bed.’
Richard sighed.
‘You don’t want to go home either?’ Michelle asked him.
Richard half-smiled. ‘It’s fine. Beatrice needs her beauty sleep.’
‘Beatrice is tired and so am I, but there’s no reason you can’t spend some time with the boys by yourself. How about you drop me home?’
Nick cheered.
Sam didn’t want to cheer, but he needed to end this with Maggie, so he did.
‘You’re old enough to be out together while I drop your mum home, aren’t you?’ Richard winked at the boys.
Nick wanted to play pool and led Sam to an all-ages games place. Sam stopped outside the door, scanning the street for Maggie. It was late enough for her to be out. Where was she? He was almost alone, this would be the best time to go looking for her.
‘I might just go up and grab a kebab,’ Sam said, pointing to a place three shops up.
‘Dad would kill me if I let you go by yourself,’ Nick said. ‘Why d’you want a kebab? You had a huge dinner. You were eating like it was your last meal.’
‘Was I?’ Sam peered along the road. People wandered up and down, great crowds of them. Sam had never been out on a Sunday night before. It made him nervous, reminded him of tunnels full of imps running from the Great Cavern. There were people everywhere. He tried to tell himself that they were hurrying to get out of the cold, chatting and laughing on the way, not desperate and full of fear like the creatures down in The Hole.
‘You know, I could eat a nice piece of baklava though,’ Nick said.
Sam’s skin prickled. He smelt the beginning of fairy dust in the air.
‘Sam?’ The Irish lilt had not changed. Her voice was as familiar as Michelle’s. The crowd seemed to hear it too, their expressions growing foggy and distant, as if she were sending magic through her words.
‘What was I saying?’ Nick asked. He looked faint.
Sam pulled money out of his pocket. ‘You were going to get me a kebab and get yourself a balaclava.’
‘Baklava,’ Nick said. ‘Yeah, OK.’ He wandered off to the shop.
Sam did not know what to feel. He’d come looking for her, after all, but he didn’t feel relieved. He had been haunted by the idea of her for months, but the real her, the real Maggie, still meant something to him. When she stepped on to the footpath, her red hair streaming in the wind of a passing bus, he even smiled.
She turned and looked straight at him.
‘Sam?’ Maggie said. ‘They said you’d come. I didn’t believe them.’ People passed her, their eyes looking rabbit-wild as they skittered around her, unseeing, pulling in jackets and skirts to avoid touching her. The atmosphere changed, got colder, and conversations that had been jolly and excited became dreamy. ‘I’ve been looking for you for so long. You’ve finally heard my call. Why have you not come back?’
‘Maggie, I can’t come back to you. I have a new life now.’
‘We need you, my darlin’. Do you not understand? All monsters need you. We know what you can do. An’ I can protect you.’
Sam stared at her. ‘Protect me from who?’
‘You can sneeze them, can’t you? You can make more of us.’
‘It doesn’t work the same. I sneezed a hatchling. It’s stunted and it can’t look after itself.’
‘Oh, on the first few tries Thunderguts brought nothing into being. He thought he’d missed getting the magic.’
‘But Nu …’ Sam stopped; he didn’t want to tell Maggie Nugget’s name. ‘It’s stunted. Wrong. It doesn’t understand anything.’ He hated talking about Nugget that way, but it was true. She wasn’t a real monster, not even a real gargoyle if you thought about it. Even though Spigot couldn’t talk, at least he understood things and could look after himself. And the more useless Maggie believed Nugget to be, the greater chance she would leave Sam alone. ‘It has to sleep. For all I know, all my sneezes won’t hatch anything else.’
‘What does that mean to me? I’ve collected enough fairy dust to protect me and mine. It’s you we need.’
‘What for? I thought …’ Sam paused. ‘How do you even know about the sneezing?’
‘That day you left The Hole, all surrounded by light, a pixie followed you and your gargoyle mates. He saw your little gargoyle hatch after you brought the dark bead to life. Did it not happen that way? But he told too many your secret. It’s not just me and mine who have this knowledge. Now the wrong ones know.’ Maggie looked weary. ‘There’s so few of us left. We need to stick together.’
‘What wrong ones?’
‘Sam, it’s not only humans who are vulnerable now.’ Her face twisted and she looked ready to cry. ‘Besides, you can’t be happy being human. There’s more to you than being ordinary.’
‘Actually, I’m really happy being human. I want to stay here.’
‘Without me?’ She looked so sad, so lonely. Sam wanted to comfort her. ‘If you must, Sam. You must do what you want. I can’t make you. But you will visit me sometime?’
‘Really?’ Sam had been ready to tell Maggie ‘no, never’. He hadn’t expected her to ask so little of him. Something, despite it all, he found he actually wanted to do. She had held his soul inside her for twelve years and it was hard not to feel that connection.
‘Of course, my darlin’. Of all the other creatures walking this world, you’re the only one who’s found his way into my heart. You’re my boy.’
Sam let her pull him into her arms. She kissed his head. The relief was huge. He felt for the first time he could have everything. He could be with the Kavanaghs, his pack, his friends and maybe even with Maggie sometimes.
‘But I’m not the only one who wants this. I cannot say how the others will be should you refuse to come.’
Sam peered at Maggie’s face. ‘Who?’
‘The old, old ones. The wet witches. They’re the ones you’ve got to watch for.’
‘What have I done to them?’
‘They’ve just become tired of waiting, my darlin’. All monsters know of you and your magical sneezes, and certain ones think this means you belong with us. And my wet-sisters, well, they’re getting angry, which could put everyone around you in danger. All your fragile human toys. I’ve heard them in the darkness. They’ve been singing a ditty to the ocean.’ She sang:
‘The sea, the sea, the hungry sea,
Send out your damp reply to me,
Eat the children, swallow them down,
Silence their breath. We’ll watch them drown.’
Her voice sounded empty of emotion, deathly and cold. People stopped, their faces etched in pain, grief twisting their features. One man covered his face and broke into tears.
‘Maggie, stop,’ Sam said.
She peered about, and looked surprised. ‘I forget, Sam, when I’m singing. You know the power of a banshee’s voice?’
Sam nodded. He was born with the knowledge. Maggie was the Kavanaghs’ own banshee. She forewarned them of death in the family, she came wailing at their funerals – he’d first met her at Old Samuel Kavanagh’s wake. He knew a banshee could fill her voice with death, but he’d never heard her do it before.
‘It’s the nature of the song. Let me try again.’
She sang it again, her voice loud, eerie and inhuman, but this time it was lovely. He could hear the chant over the noise of the cars and the people on the street.
She sang it a third time. Sam frowned. What did it mean? Did someone mean to drown all the children?
Nick appeared, a wrapped kebab in one hand and a brown paper bag in the other. ‘Go away,’ he said to Maggie.
Maggie smiled at Nick. ‘Oh, a Kavanagh. I always recognise them in the street. They see me as well as I see them. It’s the touch of the “other” they’ve got. I’m here as your friend, Nick.’
‘Go away,’ Nick said again.
‘It’s Kavanaghs keepin’ you from me, isn’t it?’ Maggie asked. ‘Why don’t you bring them with you? We could all be together. A family.’
Nick trembled.
Maggie kissed Sam again, soft lips on his forehead, strangely motherly and possessive all at once. She wagged a finger at him, still smiling as she moved off with the crowd. ‘Bye, my darlin’.’ A man looking at his phone stepped sideways to get around her.
Sam wondered what the song meant. He had to get home, to see Daniel. The angel would know what to do. He watched as Maggie walked away. She looked alone and little on the street. He noticed her feet were bare. It was so cold and she had bare feet.
Richard came up the street. ‘So, what do you want to do now? A movie?’
Nick shook his head. His face was white.
Richard put his hand on Nick’s forehead. ‘You don’t look good.’
‘Yeah, I feel all queasy. That girl …’ Nick pointed, but Maggie had blended in with the people on the footpath. They couldn’t see her any more.
‘Let’s get you home.’
‘Yes, as quickly as possible,’ Sam said.
Richard frowned.
They moved in the direction of the car park. As they walked further from Maggie, Nick’s colour returned and the furrow between Richard’s eyes softened.
Sam followed. He’d lost interest in his kebab.
‘Sam.’ Maggie’s voice followed him along the street. ‘You’ll always be my boy.’
Eleven p.m. Sam’s sleep the night before had made him far too alert. He and Daniel had had a long chat, and the angel had gone off to ward the shifters’ houses against water damage. It took an age for Daniel to reappear. The gargoyles danced with agitation and no one could stop Nugget crying until the angel returned.
‘Your house has been flood-warded too. Yonah’s got a real talent for it,’ Daniel said. ‘But you can’t drown anyway, Sam, even if the sea rises to here. The angel patted the roof.
‘But Michelle, Richard …’
‘Up on a hill. We’ve got tonnes of time to get them out.’
‘I’ll keep watch. If the sea starts looking funny …’ Bladder said.
‘Call me,’ Daniel finished.
Sam exhaled and when he inhaled, sleepiness came with it. He yawned. Relief was tiring.
‘Take Nugget with you.’ Wheedle pushed the little gargoyle at Sam. ‘Then the rest of us can take turns on guard duty.’
Sam woke with a shrill burn filling his ears and head. He screamed with sudden, hot pain. The noise came from everywhere, as if it were in the room, on the street, and in his head too.
The clamour went on and on.
His practice of not eavesdropping had given him a lot of ear control, and normally he’d be able to drive loud sounds down and away a bit, but this cacophony was different. It was insistent and invasive.
He jumped out of bed and Nugget slid into the soft space left by his body, sleeping soundly through it. Sam shoved his fingers into his ears as hard as he could. It muffled the drilling a little, but that was all. For some reason, he thought it was a song. He’d heard music many times: he loved singing himself, even though there were songs he didn’t like. When singers and musicians hit painful high notes it left him very unimpressed – the shifters too – but he’d come to realise those with human ears couldn’t hear the shrieking tones. This pained pitching made him think of those songs – sneaky notes, secret chords, a furtive melody that only an imp or a dog could hear.
He forced his head into his mattress to smother the hideous noise.
‘Block it! Block it! Block!’ he yelled at himself, and it worked a little, enough for him to regain his own head.
The piercing trill lessened. It didn’t disappear, but it softened and he could hear Beatrice’s cries through the walls.
Soon his ears blocked the strange song altogether, although pain still brewed behind his eyes. The noise pricked at his skin, even as his ears refused it.
He gave himself a few seconds to shake off the awful choir and right himself before he followed the cry to Beatrice’s room.
Neither Michelle nor Richard was with her. How could they sleep through the noise?
Beatrice had clambered to the side of her cot. She barely knew how to crawl and yet she was standing, holding the bars between clenched hands, doing her best to get one stumpy, lumpy leg over the top. It wasn’t working.
What struck Sam most was the colour of her sparkles. She was shooting out strange, awful colours, frazzled reds and harsh oranges, like a fire alarm going off. Their sharpness made him duck as she flung them at him, but the sparkles hit no harder than normal, bouncing off and shooting back at Beatrice.
For a moment Sam thought someone was calling his name, but then Beatrice spotted him and squawked, reaching for him with angry fists, losing her balance and tottering over the edge of the railing. Sam swept over and plucked her from the cot, meaning to comfort her, but she writhed and wriggled in his arms, a tough bundle of starter muscles and fat. She was winning the fight.
When she wouldn’t stop twisting, he dropped rather than put her back in her cot. It made her more desperate to escape than he’d ever seen her. Her sparkles flew at him and her face grew redder and redder, her bellows doubling in fury. Sam patted her but stopped when she went to bite his arm with her new white teeth.
Then the song grew more powerful. His ears still blocked it out, but his skin bristled with it; his bones vibrated as if he too were being played like a wooden instrument.
Beatrice stared at him, her mouth and eyes wide and leaking. She wailed and then a gust of wind rushed past him towards his bedroom, and a door slammed.
The wind stopped.
As if there wasn’t enough noise, at that moment Bladder yelled for him from the ground floor.