Xinder Rises Read online

  Xinder circled the Animais. ‘It is clever, you strange, dream-giving creature,’ Xinder crowed. ‘But if I was to merge with human flesh, wouldn’t it curtail my movements to travel through one of you Animais? And then what?’

  ‘I am unsure. It has never been tried. Yoking with a large human may harm,’ Guda said. ‘Though a child, perhaps, might only wear us down, over time.’

  ‘The boy?’

  ‘The boy, exactly.’

  ‘A Sacrum?’ Xinder chuckled. ‘Oh, but just think of it. Stuck on that dead-end planet of Earth, harnessed to a revolting child,’ he sighed. ‘But, then again, a Sacrum with me ... in harmony. Do other Animais know?’

  ‘I am alone, for now,’ Guda said. ‘Others will side with me when they learn the path I have taken. Dreams must be given.’

  ‘Indeed, they will flock to you,’ Xinder said, clapping his hands together, although being a ghost it made absolutely no noise.

  Wynn-Garry

  ‘A quick word, if I may,’ Mr Wynn-Garry said, his voice kind and his manner fatherly but firm. He looked them over sympathetically. ‘It pains me to say this, but this morning I received a communiqué from your parents who are somewhere in the Middle East. They will not be back for the football or indeed for the whole of half term.’ He scanned their sad faces. ‘It appears they have discovered something of great interest.’

  Danny and Anika exchanged glances.

  ‘What does it say – what are they doing?’ Olivia asked, and she attempted to read the headmaster’s notepad upside down.

  The principal folded the pad into his midriff. ‘Well, it’s light on actual detail, which, given the circumstances is the very least you deserve. And to be honest, I’m not at all happy about it—’

  ‘But we have—’ Olivia started.

  ‘Yes, I know you’re fortunate with your caretakers at Appleside Farm,’ the headmaster said, ‘but this is the third time I’ve had to reprimand you in the last two terms. Your parents have an obligation to you and this school beyond the callings of their work, regardless of their fame and regardless of their accomplishments in archaeology. What if one of them should suffer a heart attack or a seizure or a fall?’ he continued. ‘What would you do?’

  The children stared at the floor.

  Olivia finally broke the silence. ‘Sir, Mrs Smith’s brilliant at helping out; I’ll ask her tonight.’

  Mr Wynn-Garry nodded. ‘Very well, but before you go, Olivia, I’m going to entrust you as the eldest to take a letter back to your parents. Collect it from my office before you go.’

  He cleared his throat and turned to the twins. ‘I have given you some simple homework over the break. Please, at least, give it some effort, especially you, Anika. Your academic record is nigh on appalling, so I’d like you to do some reading on this topic and then think carefully about it – preferably before you dream up some hare-brained scheme that gets Danny battered into little pieces.

  ‘In Chapter Four of your textbook there is a particularly valuable resource for your essay after half term entitled, “Did God create the universe, or did the universe create God?”’

  Then, in one movement, as though suddenly aware of the time, Wynn-Garry straightened, and looked over the top of his half-moon spectacles. ‘Now, for goodness’ sake, over this half term, behave yourselves, children; I cannot and will not have the police and Social Services chasing us around with your parents nowhere in sight. Please do not run into trouble. Understood?’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ the children said in unison.

  ‘Excellent. Very best of luck with the football tomorrow morning. There will be a big crowd cheering you on and several members of the press. The circumstances surrounding this game, and the fact that the final involves our rivals has caught the imagination of the entire region.’ He darted a look at Olivia. ‘Best behaviour, please. Now run along.’

  Danny and Anika scampered off down the corridor, the noise of their footsteps echoing off the old sandstone walls. Mr Wynn-Garry mumbled something about the time and, as he turned, saw Olivia lingering.

  ‘Excuse me, sir,’ she said.

  ‘Yes, Olivia,’ the headmaster said, impatiently. ‘What is it now?’

  ‘Well, it’s the weather, sir.’

  Wynn-Garry sighed. ‘Yes, what about it?’

  Olivia hesitated. For the first time in her life, her brain had jammed. ‘I’ve made a weather barometer,’ she finally spat out.

  ‘Yes, congratulations on your skilful endeavour,’ he replied. ‘Mrs Douglas notified me. And, atmospheric pressure isn’t even on your syllabus—’

  ‘From my readings,’ she began, ‘there’s going to be a simply massive—’

  ‘Storm?’ Wynn-Garry interrupted with a wry smile. He bent down a little. ‘Well, I’m pleased that your readings match up with the area forecast, but I don’t believe there’s anything to fear. A bit of rain and some thunder perhaps. As a precaution, do remind your class to take their umbrellas and waterproofs as I mentioned in assembly.’

  The headmaster scratched his chin and smiled at her. ‘While you’re here, let me remind you that it would be a terrible idea to race on to the pitch again. Please leave events on the pitch to the referee and other officials – whatever the circumstances.’

  Wynn-Garry smiled in a false, head-masterly way and straightened.

  ‘I expect nothing less than immaculate conduct, Olivia. There will be drastic repercussions if you brandish that temper of yours again.’ He paused for effect. ‘Do I make myself clear?’

  Olivia nodded.

  ‘Good. Now, I really must fly,’ he said.

  That girl, Wynn-Garry thought, was one of Sutton’s finest ever pupils. Making barometers in her spare time, for fun. He’d never have dreamt of doing such a thing, nor would ninety-nine per cent of pupils they’d ever had at the school. He liked that. And he rather liked the fact that she wasn’t afraid to confront anyone who laid a finger on her brother and sister. And now that he thought about it, there were a surprisingly large number of incidents.

  Well, it was perfectly sweet of her to try and warn him, but he had a leaving party and other pressing matters to attend to. Nothing would stop his celebrations, certainly not a little storm and a warning from a pupil with a homemade air-pressure contraption.

  Xinder

  Xinder knew the Animais had disappeared by the instant lack of the strange, intense energy they emitted.

  He made a mental note to remember how the buzz tickled his aura.

  For the first time in an age, Xinder had a sense of urgency and energy about him. But, he worried that he had confused this sensation with frustration, or, perhaps, trepidation?

  Did the Animais not understand how incredibly difficult it would be to succour a child to become a part of him? To the common eye, he was nothing more than a sad old ghost. Would a Sacrum do such a thing? And, in any case, why would any human child willingly give themselves over to him?

  Xinder hovered to the floor and lay back. He marvelled at the idea of being a little bit whole, a fraction human. Even partially flesh and bone and blood so that he might walk, dance, and maybe even see?

  Was it truly possible?

  His thoughts returned to the boy.

  What had made him nick his cheek with the knife? Was it the thrill of leaving Halaria or the desire to see if he could use his sixth-sense with the human form? Or was it a tiny piece of revenge?

  It was a stupid thing to do, though, and he knew it. How would the boy trust him again, willingly, when he’d already violated him?

  Xinder threw himself at the door, flying straight through. He arrived in the old walled courtyard, scanned the area and hovered through it, dust puffing meekly to the side as he went. Xinder located his thin cane and tapped it over the ground. Moving in a straight line across the yard he touched on a lump, like a large, overturned saucer stuck down with glue.

  Xinder sighed and knelt down.

  ‘Hello, young one,’ he said. ‘One day soon, you
, and all my people will once again see the beautiful world of Halaria all for yourselves. The moons, the sky, and the court of the castle. You will breathe the air and taste the honey of our bees. And, one day, when you are bigger, you’ll drink the wines from our vines and press the flesh of others.’ Xinder grinned as his mood changed. ‘And you will sing and dance and fight and love. Just as I once did.’

  ‘But, alas, as I have told you a million times, you will never see me,’ he sighed deeply. ‘And I, regrettably, will never see your dear, sweet face, unless I can fathom a way to join with a human.’

  Xinder allowed himself a smile.

  ‘And, on this score, my dear little fellow,’ he said, ‘I have news.’

  Sas

  Sas Smith looked up as Olivia opened the door, glad to see her best friend. When Olivia’s straight brown hair hung like a curtain over her forehead it made her look older; more like a seventeen-year-old, perhaps, than her fifteen years.

  ‘Hey, everything alright?’ she said.

  Olivia slumped into a chair. ‘I told Wynn-Garry about my barometer.’

  Sas gasped. ‘You did what? Are you insane?’ she said, turning pink.

  ‘He said he’d seen the forecast. What was I thinking?’

  Sas draped an arm around her and held back a smile. ‘But at least you tried,’ she said. ‘Maybe the calibration’s wrong.’

  ‘No, not possible,’ Olivia said, frowning deeper. ‘Every time I reset it, the same thing happens.’

  ‘Well, please don’t spend too much time fiddling with it,’ Sas said. ‘You’ve got until the football match to sort it out.’

  Olivia smiled. ‘I’m not sure I’m going to watch. I’ll just lose control again and then I’ll be looking at a red card from school.’

  ‘Oh, come on!’ Sas chided. ‘It might be Ani’s last game. You can’t miss it, and anyhow, this time I’m going to look after you.’

  She looked straight into Olivia’s eyes. ‘All of this,’ she waved a hand at the barometer, ‘is great – it’s amazing, but it was only a dream don’t you think—’

  ‘I’m doing this because I believe you, Sas.’

  ‘You do?’

  Olivia drummed on the desk. ‘Yes, of course,’ she said, her breathing shallower. ‘You see, I know it sounds crazy, but I think I’ve had the same dream.’

  Sas nearly fell off her chair. ‘You ... as well? Why didn’t you say something? How similar?’

  ‘Well, most of it was to do with extreme precipitation, but at the end, it goes a bit crazy. I just can’t remember.’

  ‘Didn’t you write it down?’ Sas said. ‘If you don’t scribble dreams the moment you wake up, there’s no way—’

  ‘Well, I never do,’ Olivia replied. ‘It’s where we differ.’

  Sas tapped the spreadsheet. ‘But if your evidence stacks up ... shouldn’t we say something?’

  Olivia shook her head. ‘Forecasters screwed up years ago before they knew what they were doing, before satellites and computer modelling,’ she said. ‘All we have is a homemade, slightly random experiment and a couple of freaky dreams. No one will believe us, look how Wynn-Garry reacted.’

  Sas nodded. ‘We’ll be laughed out of school—’

  ‘Yes, yes. I know,’ Olivia said, rubbing her brow. ‘I’ll keep my mouth zipped, for now.’

  ‘Me, same,’ Sas said. She paused. ‘Olivia, I really need to talk to you about something else—’

  ‘Aha!’ boomed the voice they least wanted to hear.

  Olivia straightened. ‘What can I do for you, Fitzpatrick, boys?’ she said.

  Fitzpatrick turned a chair around and sat down slowly.

  ‘Look, I won’t be long,’ he said. ‘Chief nerd, Mrs Douglas. She wants to see you right away. And seriously, it’s a real request. I’m just being super-friendly.’

  Olivia smiled, but her eyes were narrow and icy. ‘Thank you, Fitzpatrick. You’ve delivered your message so now you can leave; we’re busy.’

  Fitzpatrick opened a book. ‘I’m gonna stay here for a while,’ he replied putting his feet up on the desk. ‘I believe I’m allowed to and, furthermore, I’d like to see this experiment you’re doing. What’s it? A barometer—’

  Sas’ eyes flicked towards the desk.

  Fitzpatrick’s followed. Then, he smiled and ran a hand through his hair. ‘You don’t by any chance fancy a date, Sas—’

  Sas stared back at his happy face open-mouthed. ‘With a jerk like you?’

  ‘There’s no need to be like that,’ Fitzpatrick said, standing up and grasping his heart. He turned to his mates and winked. ‘One day, Sas, it’ll be you and me? I can feel it in my bones.’ He extended his arm and gave Sas’s bottom a playful tap.

  Quick as a flash, she rounded on him, slapping his face, the sound like a snapping twig. ‘Don’t you dare touch me, you animal.’ Sas chided. ‘You’re just fourteen, Fitzpatrick, and your hormones are clearly going through ignition phases. So, let’s get this straight once and for all.’ She spoke slowly. ‘I will never, ever go out with you, even if we’re the last two people alive on this planet. Do you understand?’

  Ryan

  ‘Are those real tears, or are you just pleased to see me,’ Ryan said on finding Sas later, as he pulled a folded red and white polka-dot handkerchief out of his pocket.

  Sas shot him a look but her face broke into a smile. ‘Oh! I don’t know. It’s that oaf, again. He’s got hold of Olivia’s experiment and she’s gone nuts.’ She dabbed her eyes and offered it back.

  ‘Ah. No, keep it,’ he said. ‘I’ve got a drawer full. Dad has a thing about them—‘

  ‘Thanks, Ryan.’

  ‘Want to talk about it?’

  She shook her head.

  ‘You sure? I’m all ears, and teeth,’ he said grinning. ‘Look, don’t worry about Fitz - I’ve got a plan where he’s concerned. Right now, there are disturbing rumours leaking about these corridors concerning our headmaster.’

  ‘Wynn-Garry?’

  ‘Aye,’ he said in mock way with an eyebrow raised. He paused.

  ‘Well—‘

  He shook his head. ‘Can’t tell you,’ he said.

  ‘Why not?’

  ‘It might cheer you up.’

  The corners of her mouth turned up and she hit him playfully in the chest.

  ‘Well, I just happened to be in the old school—’

  ‘Just happened?’

  ‘Yes. Taking an arbitrary stroll down the passageways leading to his study—’

  ‘Ryan!’

  ‘Do you want me to tell you?’ he said, stealing a look over her shoulder.

  She nodded.

  ‘As you probably know, Wynn-Garry’s having a massive party tomorrow night after the football. I happened to be standing outside when I heard this extraordinary noise.’

  ‘What noise?’

  ‘Well, singing, I think. Terrible sort of opera, like baritone cat-wails.’

  Sas tittered. ‘So?’

  ’That’s not it,’ Ryan said. ‘You see, he then started talking but I’m sure there wasn’t anyone in there.’

  ‘How do you know?’

  ‘He hadn’t shut the door—’

  ‘You didn’t—’

  Ryan pulled a face. ‘Only quickly. I couldn’t help it. Bet you’d have done the same?’

  ’No way!’

  ‘Well, anyway, there he was, wearing a dress—’

  ’You’re kidding!’

  ‘Yeah. OK, so it was a kilt, I think. Green and blue criss-crosses, and, on his top, a white string vest.’

  ‘A singlet? What was he doing?’

  ‘Introducing himself.’

  ‘What?’

  ‘Practicing his how-do-you-doo’s, his voice getting posher and posher. “Oh how do you do, Mayor, how do you do Your Eminence, that sort of thing”.’

  Sas laughed as Ryan raised his eyebrows.

  ‘Then what?’

  ‘I sneaked off. Told you it would cheer you up. Now, i
mportant stuff. I need some advice.

  Sas cocked her head. ‘Go on.’

  Ryan’s face contorted. ‘I need a date. Got a do on over half-term.’

  ‘You’re asking me for a date.’

  Ryan coughed and blushed. ‘Er. No. Not really. Just advice, or a bit of guidance as to whom I might approach.’

  ‘Oh,’ she said. ‘Right.’

  Ryan couldn’t tell if her tone betrayed a hint of disappointment.

  ‘Anyone spring to mind?’

  ‘Annie?’ he squeaked.

  ‘Which one? Martin or Delaux.’

  ‘Either.’

  She rolled her eyes. ‘Really?’

  Ryan looked taken aback. ‘Why not?’

  ‘Annie Martin is pretty, but she’s, you know, a bit soppy, forever sweeping back her hair and sighing. You’d be bored senseless. On the other hand, Anika might tear the place up, and, if there’s dancing, you’d better have your dancing shoes on.’

  Ryan’s forehead rolled. ‘I hate dancing.’

  Footsteps made them turn.

  Sas squeezed his arm. ‘I’ve got to go. I’ll think of something, don’t you worry. I’ll let you know before half term, OK?’ She looked him in the eye.

  Ryan smiled. ’Thanks, Sas. Discretion, please. Don’t want it leaked around or everyone will think I’m desperate.’

  ‘No problem. Hey, and thanks Ryan. Love the hanky.’

  Fitzpatrick

  ‘You’ll have to swear on your life that you won’t tell anyone,’ Fitzpatrick demanded.

  ‘Give me a break,’ Danny replied.

  ‘Danny, promise on your life that you won’t tell anyone, that’s all I’m asking. I mean, you can keep your mouth shut, can’t you?’

  ‘If you didn’t want anyone to know,’ Danny replied, ‘why did you do it in the first place?’

  ‘To protect the excellent academic reputation of Sutton School,’ he said. ‘And, anyway, your sister hates me and she cannot be trusted. Prove you’re different.’

  ‘Bog off, Fitzpatrick. My sister doesn’t like you because you do idiotic things like throw barometers out of windows and sneak dead rats into sports bags.’