Demon Storm Page 3

  The bedside light flickered slightly and Ben thought he heard something. A clicking, rustling breath of sound. Like someone quietly chuckling.

  But there was no one there.

  Ben sat watching his sister for a few more minutes, deciding what to do.

  ‘I won’t leave you,’ he told her.

  The covers were crooked and Ben straightened them, pulling the duvet up round Sam’s neck so she’d keep warm. There was a dip in the duvet down by her side – like someone had put something heavy down on it. Ben pulled the duvet again. But the dip didn’t go away. He smoothed it with his hand.

  But as soon as he moved away, the dip was there again. Must be the shape of the bed, he decided.

  ‘Goodnight,’ he whispered.

  He leaned over and kissed Sam on the cheek. She stirred slightly, but at once her breathing settled back into its pattern. Ben left the light on and slipped underneath the spare bed. He could see the shape of Sam’s body beneath the duvet from here. He would stay awake all night, watching her, in case whoever Miss Haining had been talking to came.

  But what Ben could not see was the indentation in the duvet down beside Sam. He couldn’t see the way the shape changed slightly, as if whatever was making it had moved – had turned to watch Ben and then to check his sister was still sleeping peacefully. If the faint chuckling sound came again, Ben didn’t hear it.

  And, despite his determination to keep watch all night, within an hour he was fast asleep.

  ***

  The first light of morning was edging round the thin curtains. Ben was instantly awake. He sat up, bumping his head on the bottom of the bed, and stifled a cry. He looked across at Sam’s bed, realising he’d been asleep all night, dreading what he might see.

  But the shape of the body under the duvet seemed unchanged. Relieved, Ben pulled himself out from under the spare bed and got up. He was cold and stiff from sleeping on the floor and his mouth was dry.

  Then he noticed that the bedside lamp had been turned off.

  And the shape of the duvet was just that – the duvet. Pulled aside and away from the empty bed.

  Sam had gone.

  4

  THE WHOLE DAY WAS A FOGGY BLUR TO BEN. He remembered it in snatches of movement, moments of action, interludes of silence.

  Running from Sam’s room, shouting for help. Mr Magill trying to calm Ben down – assuming that Ben had gone early to Sam’s room to see how she was. Everyone being sure Sam was not far away. She’d gone to the bathroom, or for early breakfast, or maybe a walk … Perhaps she was looking for Ben …

  Of course no one had taken her away. Why would they? How could they? Ben wanted to tell Mr Magill about Miss Haining, but who could he trust? Mr Magill had brought the man with the box here.

  Gradually the growing concern around the home became anxiety, which itself became worry. It was Saturday, so there were no lessons and everyone joined in searching the house and the new block in case Sam had wandered off, still half-sedated and confused, and fallen asleep somewhere.

  Then the police arrived.

  There were two policemen, asking questions – first of the staff, then later of Ben and the other children. They wanted to know all about Sam and all about the home. Was the main door kept locked at night? Where was the key? Could Sam have opened it? There was no sign of anyone forcing their way in.

  The policeman who spoke to Ben was friendly and seemed concerned. He wanted to know how Sam had been – whether she’d been upset about anything, whether she’d mentioned to Ben that she was planning to run away. Ben told him about Miss Haining’s phone call, but the policeman didn’t seem to think that was important.

  ‘I’ll ask her about it, of course. But I expect there’s some other quite innocent explanation. Perhaps you misheard.’

  ‘What about the special assembly in the hall?’ Ben demanded. ‘Did I imagine that too?’

  The policeman looked uncomfortable. ‘Mr Magill has explained about the assembly and I really can’t see it’s relevant.’

  ‘It’s why Sam had to be sedated. Why she was asleep and helpless when they came.’ Ben didn’t tell the policeman that he’d been there – that he’d been asleep. That he should have helped his sister but he’d been asleep and hadn’t even heard her being taken.

  More police arrived, some with dogs, and started to search the grounds. But Ben knew they wouldn’t find Sam. They said they’d circulate her picture. But by lunchtime Ben could tell they were not going to do much more than that.

  He overheard the policeman he’d spoken to talking to one of the others.

  ‘Probably another runaway. Teenagers.’

  ‘Wish mine would run away,’ the second policeman joked. ‘Mind you, if they were shut up in this place, they probably would.’

  ‘Wouldn’t we all.’

  So that was it, Ben thought. They’d decided Sam had just run off. Like she’d abandon him. She wouldn’t. Not ever. They’d promised to stay together.

  *

  The man who had brought the box came back in the afternoon. Sitting in the social room, looking out of the window, watching for any sign of Sam, Ben recognised the man’s car. It was bright red with a long bonnet, short boot with spare wheel attached, and small doors with old-fashioned handles. The car looked old, but Ben decided it probably wasn’t. The top was down, despite the cold.

  There was no sign of the girl, Gemma. Just the man, wearing a light-coloured coat over his suit. His dark hair was ruffled by the wind as he drove rapidly up the driveway and skidded to a halt beside the last remaining police car. He was out of the car in an instant, running for the main entrance.

  Ben had no trouble finding them. He could hear the man’s angry, raised voice as he came down the stairs. Mr Magill’s replies were quieter, but still audible. They were in one of the rooms off the corridor that led down to the kitchens.

  The door was standing ajar and Ben crept as close as he dared, ready to run if anyone came. Or if the door opened properly.

  ‘Don’t you have any security here at all?’ the man in the suit was demanding.

  ‘It’s a home and school for children no one wants, not a prison,’ Mr Magill retorted. ‘In any case, that would keep people in, not out.’

  ‘You didn’t keep Samantha Foundling in.’

  ‘She was sedated. She didn’t leave on her own. They knew she was here and they came for her.’

  ‘So how did they know?’ the man in the suit wondered.

  His voice was quieter, more thoughtful. He seemed concerned about Sam, more than the police had been. He and Mr Magill seemed to know, or at least suspect, who’d taken her.

  ‘Her brother maybe? He’s called Ben,’ Mr Magill said.

  Ben felt cold at the mention of his name. He leaned closer still, his ear almost to the opening between door and frame.

  ‘I don’t see how he can be involved. Was he at the test?’

  ‘You sent him out.’

  ‘There you are, then. He doesn’t have the Sight.’

  ‘But he might know about his sister’s ability. Might have told someone,’ Mr Magill said.

  ‘Maybe. But why last night? That’s too much of a coincidence. Who else knew how she reacted?’

  ‘The children. Some of the staff who were here. Nurse Muir. But none of them know who you really are. None of them know about the Judgement Box. Only me.’

  ‘Only you …’ the man echoed.

  There was silence for a moment. Then Mr Magill said, ‘You surely can’t think that I –’

  The other man cut him off. ‘No, no, no. I trust you, Peter. Really I do.’ He sighed. ‘Maybe it is just a coincidence. Or maybe she really has run away. But I don’t think so. I really don’t think so.’

  Ben could hear them walking towards the door. He looked round for somewhere to hide. The nearest place was the next door along, which was also standing slightly open. He ran to it and ducked inside, looking back into the corridor through the narrowest of cracks.

>   He watched the man stride off down the corridor towards the main entrance. Mr Magill hurried after him.

  ‘You’ll let me know anything that happens,’ the man was saying. ‘Anything at all.’

  ‘Of course …’

  Then they were gone. Ben breathed a long sigh of relief. Which became a startled gasp as a voice behind him said, ‘And just what do you think you’re doing in here, boy?’

  He spun round – to find Miss Haining standing there. The room was unused, due to be decorated. Dustsheets covered an old sofa and a low table.

  Miss Haining walked slowly towards Ben. ‘You were listening, weren’t you?’

  Ben’s mouth dropped open in realisation. ‘So were you,’ he blurted out. ‘You could hear through the wall. You were listening to them.’

  ‘That’s quite enough, boy. You’re in a lot of trouble, you know.’

  Ben shook his head. ‘It’s you that’s in trouble. Who was that man with Mr Magill? And what’s happened to my sister?’

  ‘Your sister has run off. Quite possibly to get away from rude boys like you.’

  Ben stood his ground as she walked up to him. ‘No. Someone took her. And you know who it was.’

  Miss Haining blinked. ‘Me? What makes you think I know anything about it?’ There was a slight hesitation in her voice now. A slight tremble in the hollow skin of her cheek.

  ‘You phoned someone. On your mobile. Last night. Not the man who came today, because he doesn’t know where Sam is either. But whoever you spoke to offered you money. Money for Sam.’ Suddenly, Ben’s wrists were held tight in Miss Haining’s brittle hands and he realised he’d been thumping at her. His eyes were watering so much he could hardly see. He tore himself free and ran from the room.

  He was halfway down the corridor, sobbing and shaking, when he realised that Miss Haining wasn’t following him. She wasn’t shouting for him to stop or telling him that he was in big trouble. She hadn’t even come out of the room.

  Ben wiped his eyes and nose on his sleeve. He breathed deeply, slowly, calmly. Then he tiptoed back to the room.

  He didn’t dare look inside. He stopped before he got to the door. But he was close enough – he could hear her. She must be on her phone again.

  ‘I know you did, but I didn’t have any choice. I had to call.’ She sounded impatient and nervous and angry all at once. ‘I can’t stay here. People are asking questions. I think the girl’s brother knows what’s going on. And he was here again … Yes, just now. Talking to Magill.’

  She paused, listening. Then suddenly she snapped, ‘I don’t care about that. I have to leave and to do that I need money. At least the same again. Otherwise I shall have to stay here and before long someone will find out everything … I am not threatening you,’ she went on, quieter now. ‘I’m just warning you. If they get me, they’ll get you too. Five thousand – to disappear. But I need it within twenty-four hours.’

  Ben had heard enough. He ran back to the entrance hall – and collided with a figure coming the other way.

  ‘Ben! Are you all right?’

  ‘Mr Magill, sir. Yes, I’m fine.’

  He hesitated, wondering if he should tell Mr Magill about Miss Haining. But the police hadn’t believed him, so why should anyone else? And Mr Magill had brought the man with the box here. He knew more than he was telling Ben.

  ‘We’ll find her, really we will,’ Mr Magill said.

  Ben pushed past Mr Magill. ‘I don’t think so, sir.’

  ‘Wait! Where do you think Samantha is? Any ideas?’

  ‘She hasn’t run off,’ Ben told him. ‘She wouldn’t leave me behind. She wouldn’t.’

  ‘We’ll find her,’ Mr Magill repeated.

  Ben could see in the man’s eyes that he was sure Ben would never see his sister again. But Ben knew that Mr Magill was wrong. So wrong. He would see Sam again – just as she had promised. If not before, he would see her in two weeks – on his birthday, by the lake. He knew, as certainly as he knew anything, that Sam would be there to meet him.

  5

  THE OTHER BOYS SEEMED TO SENSE THAT Ben didn’t want to talk. They said little, but Ben was aware of their sympathy and friendship. He’d never felt so at home here before. Jaz put his hand on Ben’s shoulder as he walked past in the social room. He said nothing – didn’t need to. Charlie smiled sadly across the room at Ben. Others murmured how sorry they were.

  Several of the boys looked in on Ben before lights-out. He was just lying in bed, his mind almost blank.

  ‘You all right?’ Big Jim asked, putting his head round the cubicle curtain.

  Ben nodded.

  ‘If you need anything, just say.’

  ‘Thanks.’

  He thought he’d never get to sleep. But exhaustion crept over him as the rest of the dormitory was still whispering and giggling, fidgeting and settling. He drifted off into a deep, warm sleep. A sleep where Sam was still there, where the man in the suit had never brought his box, where Miss Haining didn’t sell children to mysterious people on the telephone …

  He woke suddenly, still feeling exhausted and tired. It was dark outside his window and the only noise in the dormitory was the collective breathing of the other boys as they slept. Ben sat up in bed. He realised that Miss Haining was the key. She knew who had taken Sam and where she was. He had to confront her and find out what was going on. No one else was going to believe him – not the police, not Mr Magill, no one.

  First thing, Ben decided – even before breakfast – he would go over to her room and demand to know what had happened to Sam. Just the thought of talking to her made him feel sick and shaky. But he’d do it – he had to. For Sam.

  The window in Ben’s cubicle, above his little sink, looked out over the back field towards the woods behind the home. He kept the window slightly open, except when it was really cold. He had come to know all the sounds that crept in during the night. The distant roar of a train if the wind was in the right direction; the hum of traffic on the main road; owls and bats in the wood; the clatter from the kitchens as the staff came on duty and started to get breakfast ready.

  But the kitchen staff wouldn’t be arriving until after seven. Ben’s watch told him it was just gone six in the morning. And the sound he heard was not from the kitchens.

  He knew at once what it was. Footsteps – cautious and measured – outside the window. The crunch of gravel on the narrow path at the back of the home. A noise that might have been a high-pitched giggle.

  Ben climbed from his bed and looked out of the window. At first he could see nothing except the dark grey of the early morning. Then, gradually, he made out the shapes in the night – the distant trees of the wood, the expanse of grass, the square outline of the new block … And a man.

  He was walking slowly along the edge of the grass. Ben guessed he’d stepped on to the gravel path by mistake, not seeing it in the dark. Now he was moving silently again, heading for the back door into the new block.

  Ben couldn’t make out many details. But the man was tall and thin with fair hair and he was wearing a long, loose coat. He looked lopsided, his left shoulder sagging as if under a weight, so that he walked in a slightly ungainly manner. Ben watched him most of the way to the new block. It wasn’t the man in the suit – he had been much broader, with black hair. So who was he? And what was he up to?

  Without really thinking what he was doing, Ben pulled on his slippers and hurried as quietly as he could from the dormitory. He couldn’t be sure that this lopsided man had anything to do with what had happened to Sam, but it would be a coincidence if there wasn’t some connection.

  He retrieved his coat from the cupboard under the stairs, slipping it over his pyjamas. Then he ran for the connecting walkway that led to the new block.

  As Ben neared the end of the walkway he tiptoed, listening for any sound of the intruder. He thought he heard the strange giggling noise again. Possibly the thump of footsteps somewhere further inside the building. But that could be anyone.
Holding his breath, he made his way towards the back door – where the man must have come in, if he’d entered the building.

  The sound of footsteps grew louder – slow, measured steps along the corridor leading to the staff quarters.

  Ben pressed into the shadows at the bottom of the stairs. The man passed close to him, a distinctive silhouette with his shoulder slightly stooped. Ben held his breath, straining to hear as the man murmured something to himself.

  ‘You can find her,’ the man said quietly. ‘Off you go, my little friend.’

  Ben looked round, but there was no one else – just the man. As he watched, the man seemed to straighten up, raising his shoulder as if a weight had been lifted from it. He stood looking up the stairs for a while. Then he turned and walked slowly away, back down the corridor towards the door he had come through.

  For a few moments, Ben hesitated. Should he follow the man? Why had he come here, if only to leave again? And who had he been talking to? Was there someone else with him – someone who was already upstairs? Or was he speaking into a microphone for a mobile phone or something?

  Slowly and as quietly as possible, Ben started up the stairs. He had never been in this part of the new block before. He knew that some of the live-in staff had their apartments up here. He was tense and scared, ready to turn and run if he heard anyone coming. He could get into so much trouble …

  Somewhere above him, Ben heard what sounded like a door slam or something fall to the floor. He paused, then carefully continued upwards, reaching a landing. There was carpet on the floor here, with several doors leading off.

  Far enough, Ben decided. There was nothing going on. No one was here.

  Then the screaming started.

  It was like when Sam had screamed. The noise rooted Ben to the spot – a woman’s voice, devoid of words and meaning. Containing just fear and pain. Something thumped into one of the doors in front of Ben. He saw the wood rattle in the frame. He shuddered like the door, backing away down the stairs – desperate to turn and run, yet unable to stop looking.