The Book of Storms (13 page)

*   *   *

“Danny?” Tom took his binoculars away from his eyes, seeing Danny come out of his room. Danny leapt, as startled as a rabbit at the sound of a gunshot. “Were you having a nightmare?”

“What?” Danny's eyes didn't seem quite focused.

“I just saw Mum coming out of your room. Were you having a nightmare?”

Danny didn't answer. Standing in a shaft of moonlight wearing Tom's old pajamas, he looked very small and thin.

“There's badgers in the yard,” said Tom. “A whole family. Come and have a look.”

He held out his binoculars. Danny was staring at the blank wall, his palms pressed against the plaster behind him. Even through the half light, Tom could see that he was shivering.

“Hey, Dan.” Tom took a few steps toward him, and Danny flinched, then swallowed. “Danny, you okay?”

Danny shook his head rapidly. “Look,” he whispered. “In there.” He pointed back toward the doorway of the yellow bedroom.

Tom put his head around the door. There was enough moonlight that he didn't have to switch the light on to see the axe; it sat embedded in the duvet, bathed in patches of silver and shadow.

He withdrew his head and took a closer look at Danny. He hadn't thought his small cousin could even lift that axe, never mind carry it upstairs.

“What did you bring that inside for?” he asked.

Danny's knees, exhausted from all the shivering, gave way again. He slid down the plastered wall and seemed to sigh with relief when he no longer had to worry about controlling his limbs. They were apparently not quite trustworthy.

“I have to go,” Danny mumbled. “It's not safe here. They're watching.… I don't know where to go, though.… They're everywhere.…”

“Who's everywhere? What are you talking about?”

“Everything's everywhere. I don't know what wants to kill me and what doesn't. Maybe my parents are already dead.…”

“Dead? I thought you said they went away.… They can't be dead. What on earth are you talking about, Danny? Danny?” Tom crouched down, binoculars still hanging from his hand.

Danny looked as though he were slipping into a trance. “And now he's trying to kill me.… I dreamed about Death and Abel Korsakof, and they were drowning in this massive lake.…” His eyes rolled up into his head.

Tom, who had seen plenty of death on the farm but never much shock, had no idea what was happening. Danny's body began to knock against the floor as it shuddered.

“Danny! Danny!” Tom reached out to shake him by the shoulders. “Come on, wake up! It's just a bad dream, that's all! Tell me about it! Come on, Danny. Danny! I won't be cross if you're having me on. 'Cos you don't look like you are … but you're scaring me, Danny. Come on, stop it. Wake up!”

Danny's eyes rolled back down, and he stared at Tom as though he were staring into the mouth of hell.

“He's trying to kill me, Tom. He knows where I am. I can't go back in there.”

“Okay,” said Tom, relieved back to his old sturdy self by the refocusing of Danny's eyes. There would be time for explanations in the morning. “You can sleep in my room, if you like.”

“No, no! You don't understand! I've got to leave! To go somewhere else! Oh, but there'll be nowhere, not by now. Why wasn't I careful? It told me to be careful. The most important thing, it said…”

Seeing Danny's eyes rolling skyward again, Tom straightened up and yanked him onto his feet. There was only one way he knew to calm anybody down, and that was to go outside, to feel the living world around your body, the sharp sky above and the solid earth below. Half pulling, half carrying his cousin down the stairs, Tom unlatched the back door and dragged him out into the night.

At once Danny seemed to revive. He looked around at the house, the hulked shapes of the farmyard buildings, the stars that simmered in the heavens.

“Feeling better?” asked Tom, sitting him down on an upturned bucket.

Danny nodded.

“Good. Now explain.”

“There's something I didn't tell you about,” said Danny.

“Well, yeah,” said Tom. “I get that. What's going on?”

“The old man I went to see … he … he…” Danny swallowed hard. “He died. Don't ask me how. But he gave me a map. It might help me find my parents, but I can't understand it. I'm not good at maps and stuff.”

“Okay, let me have a look,” said Tom.

“It's … back in the bedroom.”

Tom looked at him. “I'll get it,” he said. “As long as you tell me everything. And I mean
everything
. Wait here.”

Tom disappeared through the door. Now that Danny was fully conscious and calming down again, he knew that he needed the stick back. He needed more eyes, and the stick could give them to him. It was the only weapon he had against an enemy he couldn't even picture.

And he wanted Mitz. She'd have kept him warm while he was sitting in the yard in his pajamas, waiting for Tom. She'd have kept away the shadows that lurked around the barns and outbuildings. Not that he was frightened of shadows. But still.

Tom came back with Danny's school trousers and sweater.

“You'll feel better when you're warm,” he said. “Put 'em on.”

Tom was right. Warmth did amazing things to you. The moment Danny pulled them on over his pajamas, he felt braver somehow. Maybe this was what knights felt like when they put armor on: like they had a shield against the world. Except that they actually did. And he didn't.

He showed Tom the map. Tom had picked up a small flashlight, which didn't give off much more light than the moon, but they could see the scrawled lines clearly enough.

The “map” consisted of a wobbly blob with the words “Great Butford woods” scribbled inside it. Over the writing Abel Korsakof had also drawn a number of lines across the blob and a small square with an
X
in it. Danny had no idea what the lines were supposed to represent, except clearly the
X
must mark the spot where the Book of Storms was.

“So, this is Great Butford woods,” said Tom. “Yeah, it's about that shape—I've been there before. And these are the paths that run through it. I remember this one that starts at the southeast corner; it's the way you go into the woods from the path behind the village green. It comes out at the top of Sentry Hill. There.” He ran his finger over one of the lines and stopped at the top of the paper. “But what's the square with the
X
? Is that where you think your folks are?”

Of course Tom understood the map. Danny had never been out for a walk with Tom where Tom didn't know every inch of the paths and hillsides. He would have been a proper wild man of the woods if he'd had a long tangly beard and not been so keen on hanging out with the Young Farmers.

“He said it was a ‘blind,'” said Danny. “I guess he meant a bird blind.”

“Or a badger blind.” Tom grinned. “Well, that's fine, we can get there easy. I'll ask Mum to take us when you're back from school tomorrow. I'm supposed to be studying, but my next exam isn't till Friday, so she won't mind.”

At the mention of Aunt Kathleen, Danny's shoulders froze into his spine. He couldn't see her again. She had tried to
kill him
.

“No…” he whispered. “She mustn't know.…”

“Of course she'll have to know,” said Tom. “If your parents aren't here, she's supposed to look after you.”

Danny could only shake his head, hoping it might somehow convey his desperation. He needed to find out exactly what was going on. He needed the stick. Aunt Katheen wasn't on his side—that much was clear.

“Have you ever heard,” he asked Tom, “of someone called Sammael?”

“No,” said Tom, looking at him curiously. “How about you start from the beginning?”

*   *   *

So Danny did. And Tom didn't believe a word of it. Oh, he believed that something had happened to make Danny's parents temporarily uncontactable, and he believed that Danny had managed to find his way to Abel Korsakof's house. But the rest—the storm, the stick, the cat, the Book of Storms—Tom listened to it all with a small smile that indicated he knew full well that Danny was making the whole thing up. Even the bit about Mitz didn't get him any closer to wanting to believe it. Danny would have thought that talking animals were just the kind of thing that Tom would be interested in. He was mad about animals, always looking out for badgers or talking to his cows, scratching their backs and calling them “Old Lady.”

“Okay,” said Tom, when Danny got to the bit about getting back on the train at Hopfield and making his way to the farm. “Great story. I mean, very inventive and all that. But don't you think you're a bit old for all this, Danny? Whatever mess you're in, you can't just make up kids' stories about it. I mean, whatever you've done, try telling the truth. People will still help you. They'll probably help you more, in fact.”

“But you saw that axe!” cried Danny. “I didn't put it there!”

“Who did, then?”

Danny reddened, but everyone kept telling him to be truthful, so he was. “Your mum! Aunt Kathleen! I woke up and she was there, trying to chop me in half! I mean, she must have been sleepwalking or something, but who tries to kill people in their sleep? It's Sammael, I keep telling you!”

He saw Tom's shaking head and cast desperately around for a way to get his cousin to believe him.

“I'll show you my parents' notebook,” he added. “I'll take you to Abel Korsakof's house—you can talk to his wife. She probably knows all about whatever he did. There's all his storm stuff spread everywhere—we could sort of … work out … where their storm went, maybe, sort of … and we can get the stick back! I'll show you what it does. Please, Tom! Please! You've got to believe me!”

“Easy!” Tom held up both hands. “Calm down, Dan. You'll have another fit. Come on, stop making up stories now. This is a right load of old hogwash.”

Danny slumped. There was no way Tom was ever going to agree to go with him. He should have realized that Tom was too much of an adult, and adults could always think of a hundred reasons not to do a thing before they came up with one reason why they should. Milking cows and reading
Farmers Weekly
was obviously much more important than Danny's entire life.

Why did everyone assume he was lying? They'd be sorry when Sammael did manage to kill him and they all had to admit he'd been telling the truth.

Although if Sammael had killed him in either of the ways he'd tried so far, people would have thought that Abel Korsakof had been a terrible old monster or that Aunt Kathleen had gone temporarily insane in her sleep and had a tragic accident. No one would have linked it to Sammael at all.

Because nobody
knew
about Sammael. Or they pretended they didn't.

If I showed them, thought Danny, then they'd know. Sammael might be hidden now, but if I took away his power, everyone would see things change. And didn't Abel Korsakof say that, with the stick, I could find a way to do that?

He had to find his parents first. That was the most important thing. And then, once they were safe again, he'd try and use the stick to ruin Sammael, whoever and whatever he was. And then they'd all see.

*   *   *

Danny stood up and took a deep breath. He needed to find his schoolbag and his shoes. He was going, by himself if need be. Tom was right: he was too old to be making up stories. So he would prove that the stories were true.

“I'm going,” he said simply.

“No way,” said Tom. He tried to spring up and grab Danny, but Danny dodged away. They faced each other, tense.

“I'm going,” said Danny. “No one believes me, but it's all true. If I don't go, my parents will never come back. I
know
it. And Sammael will get me and he'll kill me.
You
'
ll
be fine, although you'll be sorry you didn't listen. So I'm going, and you can't stop me.”

“Danny, don't be stupid,” said Tom. “It's the middle of the night. You'll get lost.”

“I don't care,” said Danny. Then he added, “I wouldn't get lost if you came with me. You know everywhere.”

“Not quite everywhere,” said Tom, but he was giving in.

“It won't take long,” said Danny. “Just tomorrow, maybe, if we go now.”

“There's no point in going now—there aren't any buses or trains at night. I don't see why you won't wait till the morning.”

He still didn't get it. But, then,
he
wasn't the one who'd just woken up to find a mad axe murderer trying to turn him into kindling.

“I'm not waiting,” said Danny. “I'm not staying here any longer.”

“Do you even know how far Great Butford is?” said Tom. “Hopfield's not far, but you won't get to both of those places by tomorrow if you're walking.”

Danny said nothing. He'd said all he needed to. What was it about the dark farmyard that had pulled his fears away? Perhaps it was those streams of silver and black moonlight, or the comfortable noises of cattle chewing and shuffling inside the barn. Perhaps it was only being outside, knowing he'd managed to survive at least ten minutes exposed to the night already. But that feeling he'd had in Korsakof's shed, that the journey ahead was impossible, seemed to have gone forever.

Tom said, “For God's sake. Get your shoes. I'll get my phone and leave a note for Mum. I should wake her up … but she was up all last night with that bloaty heifer. Ach, you're a pain, Danny. I guess we can just call her first thing in the morning. She's going to kill me. And if you don't do
everything
I say, I'm bringing you straight back. Got it? Right. We'll take the horses.”