‘Well then, Mr Fletcher. Let us commence. I’m sure you’re well versed in the procedure.’
Freddie’s father held the key just above the grooves on the tor. Freddie could still see the doubt in his eyes. His hand was trembling. He laid the key in place, pausing before turning it.
‘Dad! Don’t!’ Freddie shouted.
Mr Pheeps whipped round to snarl at him, but soon forgot him as the air began to crackle with what felt like invisible sparks. A sudden swirling vortex of rainbow colours formed at head height above the throng. The colours ran together, and the people took a step back in awe as everything flared to a brilliant brightness. They covered their eyes as one.
The light vanished.
Everyone opened their eyes again to be faced with what could only be described as a gap in the world. It was a tall rectangular window looking into the small pocket of reality that was home to the Family. They could see the white snake of a path and the walled estate up ahead.
No one said anything for a moment. Even Mr Pheeps was struck dumb. He started to pant. Freddie saw his eyes flicker to grey. He licked his lips and clenched his fists, then he threw back his head and gave a guttural, demonic howl.
The townspeople took this as their cue, and together they charged up the path.
The flowers were waiting for them.
Mirabelle
Mirabelle held a hand to her stomach. She’d been watching from the steps of the house with some of the others, and she’d felt physical pain seeing the Glamour breached. She presumed it was fear she was feeling. Of all the things she’d witnessed recently, this was by far the worst because she knew it was possibly the end of everything.
Gideon was by her side, one hand wrapped round her leg. She could hear him gasping as the gate was breached.
‘I told you to go inside,’ she hissed at him, and then felt immediately guilty when she saw the way he looked up at her so helplessly.
‘Now!’ she snapped.
Gideon mewled then vanished from sight. Mirabelle felt his arm let go of her leg, and was immediately stung by his absence.
Jem and Tom and Aunt Eliza stood alongside her, while Enoch flew above the estate wall, watching the events unfold. It had been his idea to send the younger flowers out as a second line of defence. They had been only too willing to join the fray, and Mirabelle had watched with a mixture of pride and fear as they crawled down the driveway on their roots, hissing and snarling as they went. They were as much part of the Family as anyone, she reckoned. They had as much right to defend their home.
She tried to calm herself, taking deep breaths. She felt Jem reach for her hand and squeeze.
And all the while the ravens watched, their feathers bathed in moonlight and flame.
The sight of them only made Mirabelle feel worse.
Freddie
The path was a vision of chaos as the flowers shrieked and snapped at the invaders. Some of the people thrust their flaming torches at the plants, and the night air became rent with moist high-pitched squeals of pain as the flowers burned. Others used their guns, and green flesh plumed in the night sky as the bullets found their mark. The flowers tried to rally, but there was a fierceness to the onslaught from the villagers that took them completely by surprise.
Freddie saw Alfie Parkin flailing at the flowers with his stick. He saw a hysterical Mr Teasdale weeping and gibbering, slashing at one flower with what looked like a poker. Mr and Mrs Smith were both wielding sticks. To Freddie, each and every one of his fellow villagers looked unrecognizable, as if they were possessed.
Freddie couldn’t help himself. He followed them, keeping one eye on his father the whole time. His father walked with the dull, loping gait of a man in a trance, seemingly unable to take in what was going on around him. Unlike the others he didn’t attack the flowers. Freddie’s mother called after him, and he was dimly aware of Dr Ellenby limping after him and trying to restrain him, but Freddie was compelled forward. He had to get to his father. He had to try to break the spell. He grabbed his father’s hand.
‘Dad! Dad!’
His father turned on him, his eyes suddenly blazing.
‘Go back, boy!’ he shouted, and pushed Freddie to the ground.
Freddie landed hard, and saw the look of panicked guilt in his father’s eyes.
‘Go back,’ he sobbed. Then he turned and followed the mob.
Freddie got up and dusted himself off, gripped by a new fierceness. He followed the crowd and didn’t flinch as they blasted the flowers, stabbed at them, set torches to them. Now his eyes were set only on one figure, that of Mr Pheeps, noticing how the mob formed a protective horseshoe shape around him, keeping him from the reach of the flowers.
His mother grabbed him by the arm. He wheeled round to her and pointed at Mr Pheeps.
‘Look at him, Mum. He’s just a coward. He’s using everyone else to save his own skin.’
The shrieking of flowers had died down. Now there was only the odd sickening thud and dull grunt as people battered the last remaining few to the ground, and to Freddie
