This time the man didn’t move. This time he simply caught Bertram by the scruff of the neck. Bertram twisted and roared, but he couldn’t shake himself free.
A stunned Jem was vaguely aware that Mirabelle was gripping her arm.
The man turned Bertram round as if he weighed less than a kitten. Bertram’s bear aspect started to melt and shimmer. His human form re-established itself. He was sweating and twisting, trying to free himself, but the man held him in place with ease, an arm tight round his neck.
And now the man himself was changing form. His eyes became grey, his mouth widened. His fingers became talons. Jem was shocked, not just by the transformation, but by the terrible feeling that she had seen this creature somewhere before.
‘I’ve been so hungry for so long,’ he said, his voice moist and bubbling.
Jem couldn’t move. Freddie was backing away from the creature, shaking his head like someone desperately trying to rouse himself from a nightmare.
‘Uncle?’ Mirabelle cried.
Bertram tried his best to smile, but there were tears in his eyes.
‘Run,’ he said.
The creature bit down on his neck. Light bled from him, purple, red, fiery with life. The creature started to devour it and, as it fed, Bertram started to turn to dust.
Jem grabbed Mirabelle by the hand and they ran.
The laneway seemed to last forever. Jem stumbled, and Mirabelle pulled her up. They could hear the creature pounding after them. Jem could feel a terrible heat at her back, she couldn’t help herself. She turned round.
The creature slashed its claws through the air. Jem screamed.
She turned just in time to see Odd standing right in front of her, his face a mask of furious intent. He grabbed both her and Mirabelle and shoved them through a portal.
There was that rushing sensation again, and something else before that, as if something had raked the air behind her. Something hot and sharp. Jem fell onto grass. She looked up to see the house looming before her, Mirabelle on her knees by her side.
They both turned to see Odd walking towards them, the portal now a tiny black speck behind him. He smiled.
‘Well now, that was . . . that was . . .’
His smile faltered, and the colour drained from his face. He reached behind him as if trying to scratch his back, then fell face-first onto the ground.
Piglet
Piglet screams.
He screams when he senses Bertram’s essence leave his body. The moment is like a knife in his heart. Piglet screams and twists his head and thrashes around to escape the pain, but, try as he might, he can’t. The pain finds him. It fastens his teeth into him. The pain is raw and burning, and part of him knows he will never, ever escape it.
And, after that moment, that horrible pain-filled moment, there is something else. Piglet sees Mirabelle, the girl and Odd appear in front of the house. He sees Odd stumble and fall. Mirabelle goes to him and holds him, and when she takes her hands away they are wet and black, covered with Odd’s blood. And now it is Mirabelle’s turn to scream.
Piglet hides in a corner. And he weeps. He sobs. The hot, scalding tears come freely, and it feels as if they will never stop.
And now Piglet knows what grief is.
Freddie
Freddie ran.
He ran to escape the horror of what he’d just seen. He ran and he ran, but he was also running away from his own shame. He’d never felt so utterly helpless.
He arrived back at his house. He was just about to bang on the front door when he heard a voice.
‘Freddie? What are you doing up and about at this hour?’
Constable Griggs was standing behind him. Freddie was panting. He tried to get the words out, but a shout of ‘Help!’ distracted both of them.
Mr Teasdale was limping up the street, supported by Mr Pheeps.
Pheeps waved his hand. ‘Constable, please. This man needs assistance.’
Griggs ran towards him.
‘What happened?’ the constable demanded.
‘I was . . . I was . . .’
Mr Teasdale looked confused. Freddie saw Pheeps whisper something to him. Only he saw the man’s grin.
‘I was attacked!’ Mr Teasdale wailed.
His wail was enough to wake the rest of the street. Lights came on in bedroom windows. Freddie saw Kevin Bennett look out of his window, while Kevin’s father came to his front door wearing pyjama bottoms and a vest. His wife stood behind him in a fluffy blue dressing gown, her hair in curlers.
‘What’s going on?’ Mr Bennett shouted.
Constable Griggs went to Mr Teasdale.
‘Mirabelle of the House of Rookhaven attacked me!’ Mr Teasdale shouted.
‘Is this true?’ Constable Griggs asked Mr Pheeps.
Mr Pheeps nodded gravely. An enraged Freddie stepped forward, but a hand on his shoulder grabbed him and pulled him back. It was his father. He strode towards the constable and the two men, demanding to know what had happened. Mr and Mrs Smith were on the street now, and at least a dozen more people were venturing out of their houses, blinking and looking dazed.
‘I was attacked!’ Mr Teasdale shouted again, and Freddie noticed how Mr Pheeps kept a hand clamped on his shoulder, still whispering in his ear.
A crowd had gathered around Mr Teasdale now, and they were all jostling for position, demanding to know what all the fuss was about.
‘She transformed into a hideous monster, and she was in league with creatures who sought to injure me,’ Mr Teasdale shouted, his eyes wide and strangely glassy, cheeks flushed.
‘That’s not what happened!’ Freddie shouted, but no one heard him. The hubbub of the crowd had increased in volume, and now people were shouting. Freddie tried his best to be heard over the noise.
‘I was there. That’s not what . . .’
It was no use. No one was listening. Freddie watched in horror as Mr Pheeps made
