Dawn was creeping over the horizon, which told me it was coming on for half-eight and we’d talked through the night. I must have dozed off once or twice, though I didn’t specifically recall doing it. I was crashed out in my lumpy old armchair by the door, surfacing groggily into wakefulness. Fragments of dreams lingered in my mind like the crumbling ruins of an ancient civilisation. I must have fallen asleep, at least for a short while. And Sláine, well … as I knew, she never slept. She had watched over me instead, steadfast and immovable, my eternal guardian of the night.
Now I did hear people shuffling around outside. My parents, getting up and making brekkie for the smallies. A step, right outside my door. I tensed and sat bolt upright in the chair. I glanced at Sláine, then back at the door. The handle turned and it opened and my mother stepped in before I could stop her.
I spluttered, ‘Mam. Uh, listen. Uh, this is … this is … Okay, let’s start again. D’you remember that girl … ?’
She regarded me with a cool look you might expect to see on a psychiatrist as they debated whether or not to have you committed for tragic and irreversible softening of the brain. ‘Are you all right, love?’
I looked behind me. Sláine was gone. Of course she was, dumbkopf. As if this powerful, immortal being was going to get caught unawares by your mam stumbling in to offer you a cup of tea. I laughed, letting the tension out. ‘Sorry. Just woke up, I’m still a bit … you know.’ I twirled my finger around my temple. ‘What’s happening?’
Mam took in my location, the deep bags under my eyes, the fact that I was still wearing an outdoor coat and my boots were fully laced up.
She said wearily, ‘Sleeping, right. I can see that … Aidan, do you want to –?’
She stopped herself. I knew what she was going to ask: did I need to talk about anything? Probably, yeah, I did – but I wasn’t going to. Instead I said cheerily, ‘Do I want a cup of tea? Love one. I’ll see you downstairs in five minutes, all right?’
My mother nodded slowly and backed out the door. I sighed and turned to my chest of drawers. I didn’t know when I’d last changed these clothes – they were practically standing up by themselves at this stage. I jumped in surprise at Sláine standing there, leaning against the furniture, a sardonic smile on her beautiful face.
‘My heart,’ I said. ‘Don’t … How do you do that, anyway? That vanishing trick.’
‘I keep telling you, it’s all magic.’
‘Actually, don’t explain it, I don’t want to know. That’d spoil the trick.’ I moved to the drawers and stopped. ‘Um … could you, like … ?’
She laughed. ‘You’re embarrassed! At changing in front of me. Oh my God, I can’t believe you’re embarrassed.’
‘Nuh-uh. Not embarrassed at all. I just, uh. Just, uh, I’m used to some … like, being on my own when I’m … you know. Getting dressed.’
‘Course, I haven’t really seen you naked yet. Nor you me. Kind of weird, isn’t it?’
I rummaged around for clean underwear and socks, a change of T-shirt. The jeans were fine – they’d do for another few days, and I especially liked this pair: I felt comfortable in them, felt secure, as if I could take on the whole goddamn world in these jeans. I said absentmindedly, ‘Well, ours is a pretty weird relationship, my dear.’
‘It certainly is that … What about the lovely Caitlin? Did she see you naked? Did she gaze adoringly on the Flood crown jewels?’ Sláine giggled, putting a hand to her mouth. I laughed too, mostly out of surprise at this elegant, self-possessed girl coming out with silly naughtiness like that.
‘Caitlin? Yeah, I wish.’
‘Do you really wish?’
I stood and looked at her, clothes bunched in one fist. ‘Actually, no. It doesn’t bother me now. Nothing bothers me now. Except for … heh.’ I smiled ruefully. ‘Except for that one thing we talked about? That guy, you know yer man who controls a demon and wants to kill everyone and eat their souls and all that stuff? That’s bothering me a teensy bit, I must admit.’
Sláine said, ‘Mm-hm. About that. It’s all going to be okay.’
‘And why is it going to be okay, oh she who knows all?’
‘Because, Aidan my lad, I told you before – I won’t let anything bad happen to you.’ She looked off. ‘I won’t. I swear it.’
She left me with some instructions. I was to meet her on Sunday night, at Shook Woods, in our lodge, at nine o’clock; she needed time to think. Until then I should keep my head down. Sláine and me would both mull it all over, formulate some plan of attack when we got together again, then strike hard against the enemy that night, when he – hopefully – wouldn’t be expecting it. She had a strong hunch that we couldn’t leave it too long after deciding our course, because he might somehow pick up on it, be forewarned. On the other hand, we couldn’t do anything too soon because, frankly, we didn’t yet know what the hell to do. We needed the time to work it out but time was short, time was ticking down. It was a hellish conundrum, and meeting at nine tomorrow was a flawed compromise but the best solution we had.
Part of me was unsure about all this. What if our villain struck in the meantime, struck at her, or worse – I’m ashamed to say this – at me? What if another of those zombie-walker things tried to turn me into a human ice lolly again? I assumed they couldn’t enter my home and wouldn’t show themselves in the daytime, but still I was on edge about it. Scared. Sláine could handle herself. I was a wimp with skinny arms and the physical courage of a nervous rabbit.
But I trusted her, unreservedly, instinctively, completely. Whatever she reckoned was best, I’d go along with that. Even though I got the impression that she was kind of winging it herself, that she wasn’t the all-knowing super-being I wanted her to be, and was troubled by her own doubts and confusion. Didn’t matter: I trusted her. Perhaps my trust, like her love, could empower Sláine to know what to do when the time came. I prayed that this was so.
It was now Saturday morning, so that gave me less than two days to prepare, I guess. To wait. To worry, or try not to worry. To put my affairs in order, should the worst come to the worst. Should I not make it past tomorrow night.
Sláine vanished in a metaphorical puff of smoke and I forgot about putting my affairs in order and got back to worrying. I knew so little about what was happening that I wasn’t even able to think, ‘This could all go horribly wrong.’ Because I didn’t know what ‘this’ was. Didn’t know the name of our enemy, where he lived, anything about him really, and neither did Sláine. We didn’t know the nature of this – shudder – demon he’d raised, what it could do, what he could do now he controlled it. Didn’t know what we hoped to achieve, or how we aimed to achieve it. The pair of us were in the dark. But I could sense him out there, sense them – this nameless, faceless menace to the entire planet.
Just before leaving my bedroom Sláine had hugged me tightly, wrapping me in that cold embrace, saying, ‘Listen. My powers are growing stronger – you’ve seen that. And, Aidan, it’s you. You’re enabling them, and me. Maybe it’s my love for you, maybe it’s coincidental. But whenever I think of you, or let my heart fill with good intentions towards you … I feel as if I can do anything. Defeat anyone. I feel I could change whole worlds if you asked me to.’
I don’t know if this was true, or she had just said it to give me courage. Whichever, it worked. And it made me feel pretty goddamn good about myself.
Later that day I met Podsy. I wanted to leave instructions of my own with my best friend: what to do in the event of – well. That aforementioned worst coming to the worst. I said nothing over the phone, just asked if he was about for a bit of grub.
I walked through town in late afternoon, the sun thinking about setting, my nerves jangling, head swirling with emotions, a swarm of angry wasps. I checked my phone and saw I was in plenty of time, and looked up and half of John Rattigan’s family was standing in front of me, blocking the pavement.
Crap.
I knew most by sight. They all looked the same anyway: cretinous expressions, Cro-Magnon faces, a brutal kind of simmer in how they held those hefty bodies. This was, I guessed, two of Rattigan’s brothers, his father, an uncle and his mam – hard to know for sure, one generation didn’t look much older than the next. I swallowed hard and kept walking. Don’t show fear. You’ve every right to be here. Just ignore them. I recited these mantras and tried to convince myself they weren’t here for me, that this was a coincidence.
Of course, it wasn’t. Rattigan senior thumped me on the chest when I came within striking distance. He rasped, ‘Hold on there. Where d’you think you’re going?’
‘To meet my friend,’ I muttered. ‘Let me pass, please.’
They didn’t move. Mama Rattigan hollered to one of the brothers, ‘Here, Martin, is this the fella? Is this him?’
Martin nodded and glared at me, looking fit to tear my head off and drink blood from the spurting neck-hole. I noticed a van idling across the street, yet another Rattigan brooding behind the wheel. I ignored that and channelled a smidgeon of bravery from somewhere, saying, ‘Is this him what? What’s the problem here?’
She didn’t appear to be listening. Why would I expect a fair hearing from this band of inbred hooligans? Mrs Rattigan bellowed, ‘That’s the boy, is it? The one who done it.’
Another nod from Martin. The dad moved towards me, the brothers in step just behind. To my amazement, I didn’t budge, didn’t retreat. I wanted to – I’ve never wanted so badly to skedaddle as fast as my legs could spin – but I couldn’t. Something was stopping me.
And now this something was putting words in my mouth. I barely recognised my own voice as I said, quietly but firmly, ‘Back off. I didn’t do anything and I’m not going anywhere with you.’
Rattigan père seemed dumbfounded. Rattigan mère screeched, ‘Go on, Martin, what’re you waiting for!?’
A different guy reached for my jacket, grunting, ‘C’mere, ya little bastard. You’ll answer for what you done to John.’
To my continued astonishment, I still didn’t flee. I slapped his hands away and spat, ‘Get your ignorant paws off me, you ape. And back off. I told you, I didn’t touch your precious John.’
By this stage even Queen Rat was gaping in disbelief. The something inside moved my right foot forward a step, then my left, then right again. Was it adrenaline? Fear? The realisation that humanity was in mortal peril and I didn’t have time for these bullshit people and their bullshit antics? I don’t know. I just did what I did.
I got right up in the face of Pops Rattigan, saying, ‘I wanted to, yeah. I wanted to kill him for what he did to me. Maybe I should have – he’d’ve been no loss. But I told you, I had nothing to do with your son being attacked.’
And then, and then … oh my God. I pushed him back, four feet, his soles sliding along the frosty pavement. My voice rising, whether through courage or panic, I yelled at the lot of them, ‘Now back off, motherfuckers! The Guards have been told about you. If you come within fifty yards of me again they’ll sling your asses in jail until Easter. It’s called a restraining order, dickheads.’ I was making it up on the fly, extemporising, pulling this stuff out of God knows where. I said tightly, ‘Now move. Out of. My way.’
That something lifted the corners of my mouth and I smiled, and it lifted my hand and I patted Rattigan’s dad on the cheek. ‘Please.’
And … they did. They shuffled off, confused, unhappy, scratching their heads literally and figuratively. A gang of cavemen wondering why this evolution thing seemed to be passing them by. I continued towards the cafe, actually shaking – seventy per cent adrenaline and thirty per cent relief. Or maybe the other way around.
Fiver and Dimes, again. The muddled decor looked even more ridiculous in daylight, but the booths were still comfortable and the food was decent. For the first time since I could remember, I was ravenous. I couldn’t wait for Podsy so, rude as it was, went ahead and ordered a coleslaw burger and wedges with blue cheese sauce. Not too healthy – more or less a coronary on a plate – but it tasted great, particularly after that little dance with the Rattigan mob. Anyway, might not be around much longer to enjoy nice food, I reminded myself. None of us might.
I was two-thirds through my meal when he got there, flopping onto the seat opposite. His shirt was askew, coat half-hanging off one shoulder. Podsy looked as dishevelled and nerdish as ever, which made me so happy I wanted to lean across and give him a big kiss, smack on the lips.
Instead I gestured to the table and, impersonating this Arab camel driver I saw in some movie, said, ‘Sit, my friend, sit. You have travelled far and must be in need of sustenance.’
He misunderstood the reference. ‘Been reading those fantasy novels again, yeah? They’re good, all right.’
Reading fantasy? More like living inside one, Podsy.
‘You okay?’ I asked.
‘Yeah, not too bad. Why’d you want to meet up again? I’d be seeing you at school anyway.’
The middle-aged waitress bustled in with a menu for Podsy. She gave a dirty look at his dishevelled state, a bitter, pursed-mouth expression on her bitter, pursed-mouth face. Podsy amused himself, and me, by taking ages to decide. When the waitress moved off he made a face at her retreating back.
I said, ‘Never mind her. Listen, I’ve something important to tell you. Really important. Your life could depend on it.’
‘Okaaaay … Okay. Sounds interesting. Terrifying, but interesting. Go on.’
‘First, I wanna apologise. To you.’
‘Right? This sounds even better.’
He settled back in his seat, hands linked over his skinny belly.
‘I haven’t been the friend I should have been, Podsy,’ I said. ‘You were always there for me, really decent. I don’t mean just about the bullying and all that – other times too. You’ve always been, just, a really good pal. Put up with my shit and made an effort with me. I know I’m a cranky git sometimes – it can’t be easy listening to my moaning.’
He said playfully, ‘Only sometimes?’
I smiled. ‘Only sometimes. Anyway. Then there was the bullying, and you were like – man, you were a rock. I mean that. I don’t know what I’d’ve done without you. Seriously.’
Podsy flapped a hand. ‘Nah. I did nothing. Although in fairness, there wasn’t much I could do.’
‘That’s not true. You were there, you were my friend, and that was enough. Didn’t need to do any more. You showed real balls, Podsy. Could have gone along with the herd and kept your head down, or even joined in. But you didn’t. You stayed true to yourself, and to our friendship. I’ll always appreciate that. Always remember it.’
‘Meh. I guess so.’
‘No guessing needed, boy. I know you got hassled because of me. I know it – don’t deny it.’
‘Aidan, look at me. I’m a geek. Of below-average size, with a wonky mouth and glasses since I was four. I don’t need your help in getting picked on, know what I mean?’
‘Well then we’re two geeks. And I’m bloody happy to be one. I’m proud to be the same as you.’
The lady returned with his food and Podsy dived into it like a starving man at a king’s banquet. After a few minutes he wiped his mouth with a napkin and gasped, ‘Oh yeah. Needed that.’
‘Lunch is on me.’
‘Wow. Generosity and emotional honesty. What’s got into you today?’
‘Let’s just say … I recently had a moment of revelation.’
‘Well, thanks. And there’s no need to apologise for anything. If you insist on doing it, I will politely accept. That’s only good manners. But it’s not needed. You weren’t a bad friend. You were just – normal, you know? Typical teenager. Moody, unpredictable, sometimes annoying, a lot of the time really cool to be around. Don’t apologise, man, it makes me feel I owe you something.’
‘You don’t owe me squat. I owe you.’
Podsy drained his Coke and said, ‘All right, all right. You owe me, fine … You know, I really would have liked to’ve been able to get some payback on the bastards. The bullies – for giving you all that grief. And me – they gave me grief too. It was never gonna happen. I mean I’m small and feeble and can’t fight to save my life. But still. A little revenge would have been nice.’
I winced, the memory of Sláine’s confession rising in the back of my mind like a shadow taking physical form. ‘Ugh … yeah,’ I mumbled. ‘Careful what you wish for.’
‘Guess someone else did it for us, huh?’
I hummed non-committally.
‘Anyway,’ he went on, ‘seems you’re in the clear for it all now.’
‘Yeah?’ I said brightly. ‘This’s Uncle Tim talking, I assume?’
‘Yep. Told my old folks off the record that they don’t have any actual evidence against you – apparently, Parkinson was hoping to squeeze out a confession the other day. That didn’t work, so … They’ll likely close the investigation if there are no more attacks, which there don’t seem to be. Probably keep an eye on you, though.’ He grinned mischievously. ‘Officially, it’ll be recorded as “unexplained and unsolved”.’
‘That’s something, I guess.’
‘It was kind of weird, though, wasn’t it? All your – our – enemies took down like that. I know it was just coincidence or whatever, obviously you didn’t assault anyone. Still, though. Feckin’ weird.’
Did he know? Or suspect? Neither was possible – was it?
Podsy went on, ‘Anyway, don’t mind that. What about all this stuff you’re coming out with today? Something’s going on. You’re not exactly the Dr Phil, display-all-your-emotions-to-the-world type. So – what is it?’
I rolled my shoulders. ‘I can’t really tell you. Yet. If ever.’
‘Why did I know you were going to say that?’ He squinted at me. ‘You’re not dying of cancer, are you?’
‘No.’
‘Dying of some other disease.’
‘No.’
‘Dying of –’
‘I’m not dying, Podsy, full stop.’ I gently banged a fist off my forehead and swallowed heavily. ‘At least … not yet.’ I pushed an envelope across the table. ‘Here. Keep that somewhere safe. Like, totally fail-safe. Has your dad got a lockbox or anything? No, not there, he might see it. But somewhere.’
‘I know the very place. Don’t worry, nobody’ll find it. Whatever it is. Um … Sorry, what is this?’
‘It’s a letter. From me to you. You’re not to open it – I mean never – unless I don’t contact you by Monday morning. Say, eleven in the morning. If you hear from me … ’
‘By phone call or text? Or in person?’
‘Any. Either. Any kind of communication. If you hear from me, it’ll be me telling you to burn that letter. If you don’t, then something bad might have happened and … ’
‘Then I read it. Got you.’ Podsy put the envelope in a pocket of his bag, zipping it shut. ‘Do I get any hints about what’s in this? Or why, in the name of Muhammad, something bad might happen to you? Aidan, seriously, what’s going on?’
‘I can’t … It’s better you don’t know yet. With any luck you’ll never find out. That’d mean everything had worked out okay and there’d be no need for you to know. Oh, how I hope that’s the case. We can have this stupid secret between us as a little joke. Hell, I’ll tell you the whole story. By that stage it won’t matter.’
He nodded. ‘And in the event that things don’t work out okay … ?’
‘Something terrible is on the way, Podsy. It’s here already, and it’s going to get worse. Unless we – I, unless I can stop it.’
‘Well, can you? Stop it?’
‘I don’t know.’
‘Is there any way I can “be of assistance”, as they say?’
‘No. I don’t think so. Don’t worry, I have … I’m not totally on my own in this.’
Podsy sat back and exhaled heavily. ‘Whew. Uh … yeah. I don’t really know what to say right now. Which isn’t like me at all.’
‘That letter will explain everything. I don’t know how much help it’ll be to you guys in trying to stop this … danger. Maybe none. Maybe lots. At least you’ll know what you’re up against.’
I threw money onto the table and stood. Podsy shucked on his coat and stood too. ‘So that’s it? All you can tell me.’
‘That’s it. Sorry.’
‘Okay, then.’ He shrugged as we moved to the door, a stoical lift of his narrow shoulders, and I knew he’d do right – I knew I could rely on Podsy, trust him like I’d always done. A true friend, a real friend, to the last. How fortunate I was to have known such friendship in my short life.
For the first time ever I grabbed Podsy and squeezed him in the biggest bear hug my arms could muster. He gasped in surprise. I muttered into his ear, ‘I really bloody hope I see you again so you can embarrass me by reminding me of this. Take care of yourself, Podsy.’
Then I was out the door and gone.
Hey Podsy –
If you’re reading this, I’m already dead. Well, probably. Almost certainly. Sorry I’m so vague. The fact is, I’m not sure exactly what’s going to happen. All I know is where I’m going: Shook Woods.
On Sunday night I go to the forest. To meet a dead girl. I know, it sounds ridiculous. It looks ridiculous to me, typing it out. The words don’t seem to make sense, but it’s all true, I swear. I can see you crinkling your nose and laughing in disbelief at this point. You think I’m taking the mickey, that this is all a joke. It’s not. How I wish it was.
I’m not mad and not on drugs. You have to believe me – this is real.
Podsy, you were right: Shook Woods is haunted. Remember you said that? Said there was something spooky and creepy about the place, like you wouldn’t know what could happen in there. Well, you were right. The whole town is kind of strange anyway, but there’s something unearthly about the forest. Weird things go on among those dark trees in the dead of night. Sometimes when I’m there I feel like I’m in a dream. No, more of a waking dream. Because you know you’re not asleep but you feel like you’re still dreaming.
Hey it’s just occurred to me, that word ‘spooky’: I wonder, is it a corruption of the Irish word for ghost, púca? They sound the same, don’t they?
Sorry, I’m rambling. Anyway, here’s the facts: you know Sláine McAuley, the girl who killed herself last November? She didn’t kill herself. And she’s not dead.
I mean she is dead, but she came back to life. Don’t ask me to explain it – I can’t. I just know what Sláine told me. She was killed by a demon, some evil presence, which is being controlled by a guy who learned how to do this from another guy who died during the Famine. I know, it’s getting even more absurd. Bear with me, please.
The second man, as in the first man – Famine dude – his name was William John McAuley. He was Sláine’s ancestor: her great-great-whatever grandfather. He tried to raise a demon to do his bidding; he failed. The lack of food had made him too weak. But, but, but … Someone else succeeded. A man, we don’t know his name, found writings that’d been left by McAuley, explaining how to conjure up this thing, this demon. How to control it. It’s made of the elements or some shit. I don’t really understand it. Some Celtic demigod, is my best guess: part of the physical world itself, the weather and temperature, but a separate entity too.
That’s what’s been killing those people, the cold deaths, the hypothermia. It’s not this cold snap, it’s him. Them. This asshole, the human half of the partnership, gets power from other people’s deaths. He sort of eats their souls or something, and it makes him immortal. He thinks it does, anyway. The guy is obviously deranged.
Sláine doesn’t know his name, but he lives locally. A mortal man, you get it? Someone you might have seen around town. Actually it’s just occurred to me that it’s probably dangerous for you to know this stuff. But someone has to, and I trust you. I know you’ll do the right thing, and you’ll know what the right thing is. You’re smart, you’ll figure something out. But sorry anyway.
This letter isn’t making a lot of sense. Okay, the demon: Sláine and me are going to Shook on Sunday night to try and figure out a way to kill it, and the man controlling it. We’re gonna bang heads together, then strike out into the night. Sounds kind of cool when I put it like that, but I have to admit, I’m bloody terrified. I really hope to Jesus that Sláine comes up with a plan.
The demon, or this man I guess is the brains of the operation, brought Sláine back to life. For what reason, we don’t know. It didn’t just kill her, like with the others. She was brought back, changed, actually improved in lots of ways. She’s quite a girl. Powerful. Beautiful.
Podsy, I’m in love with her.
Again, I imagine you laughing, but not from disbelief. This time it’s the opposite. You’re thinking, Oh yeah, typical Aidan Flood – finally meets the girl of his dreams and it turns out she’s something from a nightmare. But it’s not like that. Sláine is amazing, in every way. She’s so cool. (Ha ha, little private joke there.) Really funny, warm-hearted, very affectionate … not without her flaws, I must add, like anyone. And so beautiful. I mean breathtaking, this brilliant-white, almost overwhelming, like breaking dawn on an Arctic ice shelf. I sometimes feel I could go snowblind just looking at her.
Sláine’s in love with me too, by the way – she’s told me. So it’s not some disastrous one-way infatuation, like with the other one.
We’ve been sort of seeing each other since just after her body was found. That’s where I’ve been going all those times. Sláine contacted me, she wrote a message in ice on my window. Man, I’ll never forget that moment, when it all started, this crazy dream that’s not a dream. Then I went to the forest and met her and we started hanging out together. It sounds so weird when I say it that simply, but that’s how it was. We found some connection across the divide between life and death. We found each other. Now we might be about to lose each other again.
I don’t know what’s going to happen. In the long term, I mean, assuming everything goes well and we can defeat this thing. Do we have a future, Sláine and me? Sometimes I think, how could we? Like, can you imagine introducing her to the parents: ‘Guys, this is Sláine, she’s actually dead so there’s no need to set a place at the table, and you might be waiting a while for any grandchildren.’
Then other times I think, yes, definitely, we have a future. I wonder if I only think that because I can’t imagine life without her, though.
But don’t mind that. This is what you need to know: our villain plans to go on with his killing. Forever, as far as I can tell. He wants to live forever. If me and Sláine don’t bring him down, you guys will have to. I mean you, your parents, the town, the whole human race. He’s coming for all of you, and won’t stop.
I don’t know what you can do about it. Maybe pray, maybe nuke the forest. That’s where his power is centred, I think. I also have a suspicion that the cold snap is related to this demon thing. So if you can heat up the weather, maybe you can destroy it.
And how are we supposed to do that, Aidan? That’s what you’re asking. I don’t know – again. Giant hairdryers, point them at the forest and turn the setting up to max – I don’t know.
I wish you well, Podsy. Everyone. I hope if Sláine and me don’t make it, you all will. Say goodbye to my parents and the smallies for me, will you? I’m not going to do that myself. I’m hoping there’ll be no need.
Anyway, that’s about it. I can’t think of anything more to write. Good luck, man. Hope to see you soon.
Your friend always,
Aidan