Voices in Stone (9 page)

She nodded slowly.

“I didn’t know if it was you who came back,” I said, “or the Devourer.” I remembered the dark ooze, pulsing around us. Isis didn’t say anything, but I could see the memories on her face too.

Then she startled and smiled. Not at me.

“Yeah, we should. That would prove it.” And she reached out, taking hold of something from the air, placing it into my hand. The second my fingers touched hers, I could see.

See what? Tell me!

The ghost of a little girl. I know you won’t believe me but it’s true. Just like when I’d seen her last, wearing a frilly dress and sandals, with a moptop of curly hair. The grass was showing through her. She grinned at me, making dimples in her round cheeks.

I can see what Isis can, as long as we’re linked by a ghost. I don’t know how it works; it’s part of her being psychic, I think. And now she’d put my hand onto Angel’s. Me, Isis and a ghost, all holding hands.

“I do’d it,” Angel said. “I bringed Isis back.”

Well I wasn’t really looking at Angel, because something else had appeared behind her. Tall and thin, glowing in a greenish sort of way. Half-rotten. A skeleton wearing tatters of clothing, with eyes that were like… I don’t know, tunnels maybe? Or if you’d been dropped down the bottom of a well and you were looking up into a faraway circle of sky that you could never reach.

The skeleton hovered behind Isis, like it owned her.

“Allow me to introduce myself,” it said, in this whispery voice. “My name is Mandeville.” Its mouth made a shape, which was probably meant to be a smile.

What it looked like was death.

Angel whipped her hand from Gray’s, skipping behind Isis and scowling at Mandeville. Gray wouldn’t be able to see either ghost now, Isis knew.

“What was that?” he gasped, startling back a step.

“Mandeville,” sighed Isis. “Angel doesn’t like him.”

“A dislike which is entirely unjustified,” said Mandeville. “I cannot think of anything I’ve done to deserve her ire.”

“Apart from bringing the Devourer to eat her!” Isis snapped. He flicked the comment away with his hand, although she thought that perhaps he looked a little ashamed. Gray turned his head from side to side, peering at the air.

“Is that the ghost from the theatre?” he asked her. “Your friend?”

“We’re not
friends
!” said Isis.

“Too cruel,” murmured Mandeville.

“He’s my…” she was embarrassed to say it, “spirit guide.”

Gray smiled. “You sound like your mum!”

“I do not!” But she could feel herself blushing, and wished her cheeks would stay the same icy pale as Cally’s.

Gray continued peering at the air, trying to spot Mandeville. “I thought Angel was your… main ghost.”

“I ARE!” shouted Angel.

Isis smiled down at Angel. “Mandeville’s just helping me.”

“Helping?” said Mandeville, raising one dusty eyebrow. “I hope my contribution is seen as greater than that.”

Gray looked at Isis thoughtfully. “So is Mandeville how you’re doing all the seances at school?”

“How do you know about them?”

“Everyone knows.”

“We’re not hurting anyone,” Isis said hotly.

Gray didn’t answer, which she couldn’t help taking as an accusation.

“So what if I’m making friends? At least they haven’t
been ignoring me for weeks!” The words hit home, and she felt pleased for about a second.

“I did already say sorry,” he said. “But, you know, everything that happened in the summer holidays… it might be normal for you, but it wasn’t for me.”

“It wasn’t normal for me either!”

“Normaller, then.”

She could feel an argument hovering. Why couldn’t their friendship go back to the way it had been?

Mandeville drifted closer, bringing with him a strong stench of mouldy fabric. “Why don’t we do a seance for the boy,” he whispered. “Isn’t that how you win your friendships?”

“I can’t do one
here
,” said Isis.

“And I already do’d it!” Angel said to Mandeville. “He seen
me
!”

“How edifying for him. A little urchin who would benefit from a good thrashing if she weren’t already dead!”

Angel put her fists on her hips. “An’ you… you… STINK!” she shouted, before vanishing.

Mandeville stalked away as well, fading as he did so. “Well don’t say I never try to help you!”

“What’s going on?” asked Gray.

“They had a fight,” said Isis. “Mandeville and Angel don’t like each other much.”

Further ahead, Cally and Gil had stopped on the path and were waiting for them.

“Come on!” shouted Gil. “What are you two
doing
?”

“Listening to ghosts argue,” replied Isis, too quietly for their parents to hear.

“Do you want to tell them?” Gray asked, with a smile. “Or shall I?”

Isis laughed, and he joined in. She wondered if maybe the tension between them and the weeks of not talking didn’t matter, after all. Gray was the one who understood Isis, more than anyone else, more than Jess even. Jess and the others had been terrified just by hearing Mandeville’s voice, whereas Gray took seeing the ghost in his stride. He knew all about Angel too, while Isis hadn’t yet dared to mention having a ghost-sister to her new friends. In the end, she had no other friend like Gray.

“I think we should go that way,” said Gil, pointing. They’d been walking for an hour or so, having left the footpath
at Gil’s insistence and followed a little trail that had now dwindled into nothing at the top of a slope.

Isis looked, but she couldn’t see any sign of the quarry. Just the hills rolling in waves, dipping into hidden, wooded valleys. The sun was so bright she had to squint. It was warm enough to be summer again.

Gil peered at a map, turning it around in his hands.

“I don’t know,” he said at last. “The main path should be around here somewhere.”

Cally stood motionless, hands outstretched and her eyes half-closed. “We’ll just have to feel our way,” she said dreamily. “Constance said the ley lines have been disrupted, but I’m sure I can find my way through them.”

“The quarry’s probably here,” said Gil, his finger on the map. “So if we take this path…”

“Not the quarry!” said Gray. “You promised.”

“We’ll keep a safe distance,” said Gil, “but we need to get a
bit
closer, enough to see inside it.”

Gray shook his head. “No way.”

The grassy slope stretched down from where they’d stopped. Isis could see the snaking line of a path disappearing into the trees that covered the valley floor.

“We could try down there,” she said, pointing.

Gil shook his head. “We’ll never get to it if we take any old path that we see. I doubt that goes anywhere near the quarry.”

“Right then,” said Gray, and he ran off, hurtling down the slope towards the path Isis had pointed at.

“Come back!” shouted Gil. But Gray carried on running. “Oh for… Why is he being so awkward?” Gil started to stamp down the slope, but Cally caught his arm.

“Maybe he’s scared?”

Gil grunted. “I’m scared of things, but I still do them.”

“And when you were his age?”

Gil grunted again, and stared after Gray, who was nearly at the bottom of the hill. “Maybe he is worried; he has been going on a bit about the quarry.” He cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted, “Gray! Come back, we can sort it out!”

But Gray couldn’t hear him, or was choosing not to.

“I’ll go and get him,” said Isis.

“Would you, love?” Cally said. “That’s so thoughtful of you.” Isis didn’t tell her it wasn’t thoughtful, she just didn’t
want to be left alone with the two adults in case they started kissing again.

She took a step down the hill, then another. The steep slope quickly caught her feet, lumps and bumps of grass dancing her down the hill, pulling her legs into widening steps and then to a run that lasted until the slope flattened off. She slowed to a windswept stop a few paces from Gray.

“Your dad said sorry,” she panted, “and that you should come back up.”

“To
that
?” said Gray, pointing. Isis turned and saw the small figures of Cally and Gil at the top of the slope, arms around each other, heads pressed together.

“Not again.”

“They don’t waste time, do they?”

She shook her head, letting out a groan.

“I’m not going near the quarry,” said Gray, “whatever Dad thinks.”

“I think he’s pretty set on it.”

“Yeah, but if we go this way, then they’ll have to follow, won’t they?” He turned, and started walking away. Gray was as stubborn as his dad when he wanted to be.

The track was narrow, worn deep into the earth, and they followed it towards the trees. As the grass turned to woodland, the path crossed a dry stream bed, a line of chalky gravel and rocks that would be filled with water in the winter. As they stepped down into the ditch and Isis’s feet hit the rubble of stones, she felt a sudden stab of anxiety.

For a heartbeat she was seeing something other than trees and the curve of the valley. It was as if the landscape had another layer made of silver, which it exhaled in a single breath.

She blinked, and the sensation vanished.

Beside her in the stream bed, Gray was standing stock-still. He had a blanched, frightened expression on his face.

“Are you all right?” she asked him.

He shut his eyes, opened them again. “Do you think being psychic could be infectious?”

“It’s not a
disease
,” said Isis.

“I know, I just wondered if I could catch it. I mean, after seeing Angel, and the Devourer and stuff. Could it… spread?”

“Like a verruca?” said Isis, feeling herself prickle.

Gray looked at her for a moment, his jaw tight.

“Fine,” he said. “Forget it.” And he carried on walking, his footsteps quick and angry.

“Wait!” she followed, almost having to jog to keep up. Why was this happening? How could a fight bubble out of nothing? But Gray walked silently for a long while, his face blank to her questions, leading them further from their parents. And as she worried about him and their fight, Isis let go of what she’d seen when they were standing in the ditch. Perhaps it had only been her eyes, or a trick of the light?

The path wasn’t much wider than a rabbit track. It threaded between the tall spires of the beech trees, the air cooler than it had been out in the sunshine. As they weren’t talking, the only sounds were their own footsteps and the occasional chirrups of birds. And now the anxiety she’d felt before was building again. It made her want to move quicker, to get away, or… do something, even if she wasn’t sure what.

She found herself glancing back as she followed Gray, hoping for the reassuring thump of Gil’s and Cally’s feet. She worried whether they’d even noticed them walk off,
or if they’d been too busy kissing. Thick, autumn light slanted through the branches, and the bright leaves above them flickered shadows across the ground. It was beautiful, but…

“Maybe we should go back?” she said.

Gray came to a stop. “I’m not going near the quarry.”

“I know.”

“I guess we could wait here for them.”

Except she didn’t want to wait either. She couldn’t stay here, with this feeling. “Maybe we should carry on?”

Gray frowned at her. “You wanted to go back a second ago.”

“I know, but now I don’t know.”

“Is something up with you?”

She shook her head. She was fine. Except she was feeling more and more anxious, feeling more and more like she needed to get somewhere, and wherever it was, she had to do it quickly.

“Things always turn out badly when I go on woodland walks,” she said.

Gray laughed.

“It’s not funny!”

The jumbled patterns of gold-lit trees stretched above them. Up. Up and away. That was where she wanted to go!

“I’m going back to the car,” she said, choosing a direction at a rough right angle to the path, and clambering up the slope.

“But the car’s not that way!” said Gray, left on the path.

She carried on, weaving her way between smooth and knotted trunks, grabbing branches to pull herself up the raggedy ladder of the hillside.

“You’ll get lost!”

“No I won’t!”

Somehow she knew this was exactly the right direction.

She’d been scrabbling up the hillside for ages but didn’t seem to be getting anywhere. It hadn’t taken long to run down into the valley, so why was she still clambering, hanging onto tree roots and clumps of grass to stop herself from slipping? Maybe she wasn’t going as straight as she thought she was? Except this
felt
like the right way, even with Angel protesting, and even with her legs aching more and more with each step.

“Where are you going
now
?” Gray called from below her.

She gripped onto a low branch, glancing back, and had a spinning moment of vertigo at the steepness of the wooded bank falling away from her. It forced out the
strange sense of urgency, which had stranded her here, halfway up the hillside.

What am I doing?

“Are you heading for that path?” Gray called. He was pointing diagonally away from where she was headed, to a footpath following the contours of the slope, little more than a line between the trees.

Isis nodded, too out of breath to answer him and not wanting to admit she didn’t even know where she was going. She changed her angle of scramble, heading for the path, hearing the crunch and crack of Gray behind her. Her fear of falling kept her focused on handholds and where to put her feet, so she didn’t see the man standing on the footpath until she was nearly there. A tall young man, wearing a rainbow-striped jumper, grey camo trousers and army boots. He peered down at her from under thick ropes of brown dreadlocks, his expression half hidden by a short, wispy beard.

He seemed to have appeared from nowhere, and for a moment she thought he was a ghost. But he had a shadow and he looked a little too solid. She stopped climbing, and they stared at each other for a moment.

“What’s going on then?” he asked in a deep, almost sleepy voice.

Isis didn’t answer. Her foot was wedged against the base of a small tree, but she felt unsteady all the same. She wanted to get to the path, but now this man was on it.

The man’s gaze flicked to Gray as he caught up.

“You two lost?”

“No!” said Isis.

“Yes!” said Gray.

The young man leaned down, putting a hand out to Isis. “Well if you are or you aren’t, I know these woods so I can set you in the right direction.”

She didn’t take his hand so he offered it to Gray instead, who took it and was quickly hauled onto the path.

Isis struggled the last few metres on pride, but when she reached the path her leg muscles sparked little trembles, recovering from the climb.

“You out here on your own?” asked the man, frowning at them both.

“Our parents are just down there,” lied Gray quickly, pointing to the valley floor. If only they were, then they’d have been within earshot.

“Do they know you’re wandering by yourselves? There’s all sorts in these woods.”

“You mean, like you?” Gray said.

The young man smiled. “I’m no risk to anyone, man. It’s the security guards from the quarry you should worry about. Some of them are really rough.”

“Is the quarry near here then?” asked Gray, a note of fear in his voice.

“About fifteen minutes’ walk that way’ll get you to the fence,” said the man, pointing down the footpath they were now on. “But come back in a couple of years and you won’t have to walk anywhere to reach it. We’ll be standing in the quarry right here. They want the whole valley.”

Up close, Isis could see that his trousers were stained with mud, and the cuffs of his jumper more brown than rainbow. Above his beard his face was smooth and unlined, but deeply tanned and ingrained with dirt. His hands were equally grubby, each fingernail lined with black.

“Are you one of the protestors?” asked Gray. “Dad said there’s a camp.”

The young man shrugged. “I am and I aren’t. Same as you are and aren’t lost.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means I’m Merlin.” They both stared at him. “You know? Druid and wanderer. Healer and bard.”

Gray snorted. “I know who Merlin is.”

“Glad you’ve heard of me then.”

“But you’re not actually him!”

“Who else would I be?”

Isis shook her head. The way he’d appeared from nowhere, here among the trees, he did seem kind of supernatural. Except the unwashed smell coming off him – a pungent mix of sweat and woodsmoke – didn’t seem very mystical.

“Merlin’s just made-up,” she said. “And if he wasn’t he died a thousand years ago, so you can’t be him.”

“The king is dead, long live the king,” said the young man. “
Merlin
is dead, long live Merlin.”

Gray look puzzled, then said, “You mean it’s a title? Like the way being king passes onto the next person?”

Merlin made a gun out of his thumb and forefinger. “
Peeeow
,” he said, shooting at Gray.

“But the original Merlin was in the eighth century or whenever, so you’d have to be…” Isis paused, counting
in her head, “… about the fiftieth Merlin. At least! How did you get even chosen?”

Merlin shrugged. “I just knew it was me.”

Isis and Gray exchanged a look, but Gray said, “My dad knows this man who says he’s an alien-human hybrid. I suppose being Merlin isn’t any weirder.”

Merlin smiled through his beard. “I’ll take that as a compliment.” He paused, seeming to examine them both. “Look, you should be careful. An ambulance would take a long time getting in here if you broke a leg or whatever. Take the path instead of climbing, all right?”

“It was Isis’s idea,” muttered Gray. “She wants to get back to the car park.”

“Well you’re going the wrong way for that.” Merlin pointed up the path they were standing on. “Go up here, then double back at the fork, then the path dips down for a bit, and when it starts to head back uphill you take a left…”

“No.” The word was out of Isis’s mouth before she even knew it, her heart thrumming into anxiety just at the thought of going the way Merlin was pointing. “Not that way.”

“What is up with you?” Gray said. By the gathering of his eyebrows she could tell he was annoyed, but it didn’t matter – right now she didn’t care about anything except…

“This way,” she said, pointing. She was set on a direction into the trees, and up the slope. She had no idea what was there, or why she was so certain it was the right path. “That’s where we’re going.”

Merlin regarded her thoughtfully. “You can feel it, can’t you?”

“Feel what?” asked Gray.

“The energy,” said Merlin. “The ley lines, man. Seven of them intersect up that way.”

Gray groaned. “You as well? Look, Isis, let’s just go back. Find Dad and Cally?”

Isis knew that was the sensible thing to do, so why was she shaking her head? She couldn’t set aside this desperation to reach… whatever was that way.

“Cally will be worrying,” said Gray. “She’s probably phoned the police by now!”

He was right again, and still she didn’t care. “I want to go there, where the ley lines cross.”

Merlin inspected her. “You’ve got a calling, haven’t you? I can always tell.”

Gray grabbed Isis’s arm. “You can’t just go off!”

“I need to go there,” she answered.

“Why?”

She could only pull a face; she couldn’t translate the need to him, it was as if it were in another language. “I just do.”

“There’s something weird about this valley,” said Gray. “What happened at the quarry and now this. Something isn’t right, and you’ve gone all… Cally!”

“Don’t make fun of me!”

“I’m not…”

But Isis pulled out of his grip. Anger was the easiest, because it covered her own confusion. She ran towards Merlin, and then stopped. Through her anger, she knew Gray was right and she was being stupid, dangerous even. And yet the idea of not going… it was like giving up everything she’d ever wanted.

She turned around. “I can’t explain,” she said to Gray. “Will you come with me though?”

His feelings were clear in his face: annoyed enough to leave her, worried enough to tag along.

“All
right
,” he said. “But something’s wrong, and you know it.”