Demon Storm (6 page)

T
HEN SUDDENLY
BEN WAS FALLING
backwards. Strong arms dragged him through the narrow gap between the gates before slamming them shut again. The chain was pulled tight. Ben lay on his back, staring up at the gates from the other side now.

Just a pair of wrought-iron gates, held shut by a chain and a padlock, dripping from the rain. With nothing and no one to be seen beyond them.

‘Are you all right, son?’

Ben struggled quickly to his feet and turned to face whoever had opened the gates and pulled him through. A torch shone full in Ben’s face, dazzling him so that all he could see behind it was the vague shape of a man.

‘Fine, I think. Thank you. But what was that … that thing?’

As the man lowered his torch, Ben could see now that he was short and stocky. His thinning grey hair was plastered across his scalp by the rain.

‘The gates are kept locked at night. Don’t want anything getting into the estate. Nothing that doesn’t have business here, anyhow. Do you have business here?’

‘I’ve come to see Mr Knight.’

The man nodded. ‘That isn’t what I asked. But whether he sees you or not is up to him.’

He reached out, and it took Ben a moment to realise he meant to shake hands.

‘Pendleton Jones,’ the man said. There was a trace of accent in his voice, a rural edge to it. ‘I look after the grounds. Like I said, things try to get in. The gates and the wall stop most of them. I lay traps for the others.’

He turned and started up the drive towards the house.

‘Things?’ Ben hurried to catch up. ‘What sort of
things
?’

‘Things like the one that tried to get you. Some aren’t so vicious. Others are much more dangerous.’

‘But – what was it?’

‘What did you see? What did you think it was?’

Ben wasn’t sure. ‘Shadows. I don’t know. But it felt …’ He shook his head.

‘Anyone could get that much of an impression of it. A manifestation like that, you don’t need the Sight to feel its breath on the back of your neck.’ The man paused and turned to look at Ben again, shining his torch up and down as if assessing him. ‘If that’s all you saw, then you’re nothing special.’

‘Oh, thanks,’ Ben muttered. He started walking again.

The man made no move to follow, just standing where he was, watching. ‘Best not tell Mr Knight about it or he’ll know you’re nothing special too. In fact,’ he called after Ben, ‘best not to mention you’ve even spoken to me. Keep him guessing about how you got inside the gates. Good luck, son.’

Ben felt no sense of achievement as he approached the large building. Only dread. The house seemed to sprawl across the landscape, as if it had been thrust up out of the earth rather than built. The frontage was weathered and cracked, ivy spreading across it like veins. The pale moonlight cast sinister shadows and exaggerated the pallid stone surrounding the windows.

There was a rusting metal rod hanging down beside the dark wooden door. It ended in a loop of a handle, which Ben pulled. Deep inside the house he heard a bell jangle in reply.

He waited what seemed an age. Light was seeping round the edges of heavy curtains at the windows, so he guessed there was someone in. Eventually he heard the muffled sound of footsteps rapidly approaching the door. This was followed by the rasp of bolts drawing back and the thunk of a heavy lock, then finally the door swung inwards.

The woman was holding a mobile phone. She glanced at the screen before putting it away in her jacket pocket. She was wearing a smart dark trouser suit and looked about the age Ben’s mother might have been. Her hair was icy blonde, cut short like a schoolboy’s and scraped back from her face and forehead.

‘Is it still raining?’ she asked. Her voice was gentle and calm.

Ben shook his head. ‘I have to see –’

‘Mr Knight, yes,’ she interrupted. ‘You’d better come in. You’ll catch your death out there. Look at you.’

‘Thank you.’ Ben hurried inside, aware he was
dripping on the wooden floor. But the woman seemed not to notice. ‘My name …’ he began.

‘… is Ben Foundling,’ the woman finished for him. ‘Of course it is. Come with me and let’s get you dry and find you some hot soup. Mr Knight is busy just now, but I’ll let him know that you’re here.’

Ben followed the woman through a dimly lit hallway. There were wooden panels and dark paintings on the walls – some portraits, some landscapes, one a bizarre picture of a demon sitting on a bed beside a sleeping woman.

The woman’s high heels clicked on the floor as she led the way briskly down a corridor. Ben wondered who she was, but just as he was about to ask her, she said, ‘I’m so sorry, Ben, I didn’t introduce myself. You must think me very rude. I’m Mrs Bailey. I look after the house and manage Mr Knight’s business. I look after the other children too.’

‘Other children?’

The corridor ended at a large kitchen. One wall was taken up with a wide black cooking range. There was a bare wooden table in the middle of the stone-flagged floor. Saucepans and other cooking utensils hung on racks from the ceiling. A microwave stood incongruously on a worktop, close to an equally out-of-place large aluminium fridge.

‘Soup,’ Mrs Bailey declared. ‘And if you sit here by the range, you’ll soon warm through.’

She pulled a chair out from the table and angled it for Ben to sit in.

Ben was shivering. He hadn’t realised how cold – and afraid – he was until he felt the warmth from the stove. He almost collapsed into the chair, the sleeve of his jacket catching a china jug close to the edge of the table as he moved.

But Mrs Bailey’s hand was already outstretched, ready to catch the jug before it fell. She must have seen what was about to happen. She steadied the jug, moving it out of the way.

‘I’ll get you some soup first. Then I’ll tell Mr Knight you’re here,’ she said.

The warmth from the range slowly seeped into Ben’s bones. His hands were cupped round a mug of thick vegetable soup. It was so hot from the microwave that he could only sip at it. But the soup was tasty and before long Ben was feeling much better.

He wished Sam was with him. When he looked up from his soup and saw there was a figure watching from the door to the corridor, for the briefest moment he thought it
was
Sam.

But it was the girl who had come with Knight to the home. Gemma. She was leaning against the door frame, her arms folded, head tilted to one side. There was someone else behind her, another child Ben couldn’t see clearly. He could just make out that it was a boy – dark-skinned, with pale eyes that gleamed in the shadows.

‘He doesn’t have any aura at all,’ Gemma said to the boy, as if Ben wasn’t there. ‘Why’s he come?’

Ben wasn’t sure what to say. Didn’t she know he could hear what she said.

Another voice – an older girl’s – called from back down the corridor. It sounded bossy and irritated. ‘Come away from there. You’re not supposed to be down here. Come on.’

The boy turned and walked quickly away. Gemma pushed herself away from the door frame with a nudge of her shoulder.

‘See you,’ she said to Ben, and smiled. Then she turned and ran after the boy.

Moments later, another girl appeared – Ben guessed it was the girl who had called out to them and told them to go away. She was older – older than Sam too. Her dark hair hung in curls to her shoulders and she had the kind of mouth that curled downwards in a sort of perpetual sneer.

‘Have you come to look at me as well?’ Ben asked.

She sniffed. ‘Yes,’ she said. ‘Though I don’t know why I bothered.’

Ben turned away, taking a sip of his soup. When he looked back, she had gone.

The man in the suit arrived a few minutes later.

Knight’s study was a mixture of the orderly and the chaotic. There were piles of books and papers, shelves of books and CDs and DVDs and computer disks. Almost every surface seemed to be covered. Display cases contained everything from fossils to a long-bladed knife, gold coins to a human skull, a roll of yellowed parchment tied with faded red ribbon to intricate figures carved from bone or ivory …

Ben noticed little of it. He sat nervously on the edge of an upright chair in front of Knight’s enormous mahogany desk. The top of the desk was the only surface that was relatively clear – a leather-bound notebook, a closed laptop computer, a mobile phone, a pad of paper and a silver fountain pen.

Behind the desk, Knight leaned back in his chair, his elbows resting on the wooden armrests, his fingertips touching.

‘Ben Foundling,’ he said thoughtfully. ‘If you’re looking for your sister, I’m afraid I can’t help you.’

‘I think you can,’ Ben said, surprised at how defiant and confident he sounded.

‘Not directly. But there are other ways.’ Knight leaned forward, transferring his elbows to the desk as he regarded Ben carefully. ‘Gemma tells me you have no aura at all. Certainly I saw nothing when we met the other week. Your sister, though …’ He frowned. ‘Or are you so powerful it’s somehow hidden from us? Is that it?’

ds

‘Before I tell you anything, I need to know what your abilities are. Your potential. I didn’t even test you before, did I?’

Ben remembered watching from the gallery – the test with the box. Knight couldn’t know he’d seen what happened. So he said nothing.

Knight tapped his fingertips together several times before seeming to make up his mind. ‘Wait here a moment,’ he said. ‘I won’t be long.’ He got to his feet and strode from the room, leaving the door slightly open behind him.

‘What do I do?’ Ben murmured out loud. If he failed this test, Knight would send him back to the home …

He wondered what Sam would do. But then he realised he didn’t need to wonder. He’d already seen the test. He knew what she’d done.

Ben gasped as he felt a hand on his shoulder. Startled, he turned sharply – and saw it was Gemma. She was looking down at him sadly.

‘He’ll send you back,’ she said quietly. ‘Why did you come here?’

Ben said nothing. The girl shrugged and walked over to the desk. A few moments later, Knight returned. He was carrying the wooden box that Ben remembered from the home. He put it down carefully on the desk.

‘I’m going to ask you to look at something, Ben,’ Knight said. ‘That’s all. Nothing difficult.’

It sounded like a well-rehearsed speech, something the man had said a hundred times to a thousand children over the years …

Ben nodded, not daring to speak. But he forced himself to look at Knight, and Gemma, and the box.

Knight was holding the large key. He unlocked the box and murmured a few words. Ben caught only some of them: ‘
Effrego expositus libere
…’

Then Knight carefully lifted the lid. Ben stood up, so he could see. Knight tilted the box forward
slightly so that Ben could see right inside. Gemma was watching Ben intently, like a hunting animal.

Ben thought back to when Sam did the test. He remembered watching from the gallery as Knight opened the box.

The empty box. Just like Charlie and Big Jim had told him, it was
completely
empty.

Ben put his hands to his face, still staring into the box, and screamed for all he was worth.

H
E SCREAMED SO HARD HIS EYES WATERED
. Tears ran down his face and his stomach was heaving. But Ben could see Knight nodding with grim satisfaction. Mrs Bailey was there, running to take Ben’s arm and lead him away. Someone – another grown-up – took his other arm, but he didn’t see who it was. He just concentrated on the screaming until his throat was raw and his lungs were exhausted.

It wasn’t just his lungs that were exhausted. Slipping away from the home the previous night seemed weeks ago. His legs could barely support him now as he was helped upstairs. Ben collapsed on to a soft bed. Mrs Bailey pulled a duvet up over him and he was asleep before she let go.

Hours, or perhaps days, later Ben woke. He was still tired. The curtains were drawn, so he guessed
it was dark outside. But the bedside light was on. He was in a large bed in a big square room. The room was sparsely furnished – just a bedside locker, a little dressing table with a mirror, a chest of drawers and a narrow wardrobe. All the furniture was made from a dark, reddish wood.

Gemma was sitting on the edge of Ben’s bed, swinging her feet. She spoke without looking at him.

‘What do you see?’

‘Just a room,’ he said, confused. ‘What should I see?’

‘No. What do you
see
?’

Ben pulled himself up so he was sitting and looked round again.

‘You’re funny,’ Gemma said. Now she did look at Ben, and she smiled. ‘I see
everything
,’ she said, and there was sadness in her words. ‘But you’re all right here, at the school. Nothing can get in unless Mr Knight lets it. What you saw inside the box can’t get out. It’s sealed in tight. Actually, I think it likes it in there. Scaring kids who can see it.’

Ben didn’t answer. He didn’t want to give her any clue that he hadn’t actually seen anything in the box.

‘I didn’t used to like to talk about it,’ Gemma went on. ‘None of us did. But you’re safe here with
us. With your friends.’ She jumped down from the bed and gave him a quick wave and a grin. ‘Bye.’

He drifted off to sleep again. This time he was woken by the sound of whispering close by.

‘His
sister
?’ a voice was saying. It had a faint accent.

‘That’s what Gemma said. Anyway, we shouldn’t be here.’

Ben sat up again, rubbing sleep from his eyes. ‘Who are you – what do you want?’ he demanded.

A boy and a girl were standing there. He’d seen them both before, when he was drinking his soup in the kitchen. The boy looked Indian, with a round face and short black hair that was spiky at the front. He seemed to be a bit older than Ben. The girl was about eighteen, he thought, and still had a half-sneer as she stared back at Ben.

‘I’m Rupam,’ the boy said. ‘This is Maria.’

‘What are you doing here? What do you want?’

‘We could ask you that,’ Maria said. ‘Why did you come?’

‘I want to know what happened to my sister,’ Ben said. They’d mentioned Sam – maybe they knew something.

But the girl just shrugged. ‘Never met her.’

‘Gemma might know,’ the boy – Rupam – suggested.

‘She doesn’t know anything,’ Maria snapped, and Ben sensed that Rupam’s comment had annoyed her. ‘We shouldn’t be here,’ she said again, turning and walking briskly from the room.

Rupam grinned at Ben and gave him a wave. ‘See you.’

Mrs Bailey brought Ben clean clothes and told him that Mr Knight would like to see him as soon as he felt up to it.

Ben swallowed. He nodded but said nothing. Had he been found out? Did they realise he was here under false pretences – wherever here was and whatever he was pretending?

There was a bathroom next door to Ben’s room. He had a shower and changed his clothes. He was feeling more awake now. He wondered where Sam was right now …

Knight was waiting for him in a large drawing room at the back of the house. A log fire was burning enthusiastically in a large open grate. Knight sat in an armchair, his legs outstretched, reading a book. As Mrs Bailey led Ben into the room, Knight closed the book and set it down on a small table beside his chair. Ben couldn’t read the title – it was printed in faded gold on the scuffed leather binding.

‘Well now, young man,’ Knight said, gesturing for Ben to sit in the chair on the other side of the stone fireplace. ‘Have you come to join us?’

‘I’ve come to find out what happened to Sam.’

‘Your sister?’

Ben nodded. ‘You tested her, with that box. Then she disappeared.’

‘I had nothing to do with that,’ Knight said quietly. ‘And, although it probably doesn’t help, I’m very sorry.’

Ben looked away, staring at the flickering shapes of the flames in the hearth. ‘I know. I heard you talking to Mr Magill.’

Knight said nothing for several moments. The silence was broken only by the crackling of the burning wood. Ben glanced at Knight and saw that he too was staring into the flames.

‘The Judgement Box,’ Knight said at last, ‘tells me if the children I test have an ability. If they can
see
. Most can’t, of course. But some, a few, have the ability. Maybe they live with it every day. Or maybe they don’t even know they have it. You, for example …’

He turned to look at Ben. His eyes were deep and dark, and Ben felt the man could see into every corner of his mind.

‘Me?’

‘You saw what was in the box. But I get the impression it isn’t a constant ability. You have … something. Some talent, evidently. Potential that can be unlocked.’

‘What about Sam?’ Ben demanded.

‘Ah … Your sister was unique. Even I could see she had an aura, an ability. And it’s years since …’ He sighed and turned away again, staring at the fire once more. ‘I think your sister had a far stronger ability, a far clearer Sight, than anyone else I have come across. Even Maria when she was younger. Even Gemma.’

‘How do you mean?’

‘I mean she saw them
all the time
. Every waking moment. It must have affected her very deeply. When did she start?’ he asked.

‘Start?’ Ben wasn’t sure what he was talking about.

‘When did she start to see the demons? The ghosts? The dead?’

As soon as Knight said it, Ben knew he was right. He knew she saw something, but he hadn’t realised exactly what it was. But now he knew that Sam had seen demons and ghosts – each and every day. By the lake, on the bus, in the home … She’d even
told him once, he realised. He had laughed and she’d never mentioned it again.

‘She always saw them. Since forever,’ he said. ‘What is this place? What do you do here?
Who are
you?
’

Knight smiled. ‘We do have an official title. But everyone calls us the School of Night. I suppose it’s flattering in a way. I set it up … so long ago. After I lost my own ability …’

He stood up and walked slowly round the back of his chair. He turned so he had his back to the fire.

‘When we are young, we see as children.’ He smiled. ‘I know it sounds obvious. But there is an innocence, a naivety, a willingness to believe that we lose as we grow older. Maybe it’s to do with adolescence, or perhaps it’s just that we learn what we should and shouldn’t believe in. Like ghosts – how many adults believe in ghosts? I mean really
believe
in them? Yet almost every child is open to the idea. That’s why it’s the children who see them. It’s a world that is later closed off by experience and by reason and logic.’

Ben leaned forward in the chair. ‘You said this place is a school?’

‘We’re between intakes now. But usually there
are up to a dozen children here. Sometimes more. The most gifted, the ones with the real Sight. We train them to fulfil their potential – so they can be at the forefront of the battle.’

Ben gaped. ‘Battle?’

‘Most ghosts and spirits are harmless enough. After-images, souls that got left behind. We can help them find rest … But some – some are the creatures of Hell itself. And it’s our job to send them back there.’

Ben could hardly believe what he was hearing, but the man seemed deadly serious.

‘And that would have been Sam’s job?’

‘Oh yes. I don’t know what happened to Sam, but like you I want to find out. She was going to come here. She would have been one of our most powerful soldiers. Like Gemma, she could see
everything
, all the time. Unfortunately that made her a potential threat to those who don’t want us to exorcise the ghosts and banish the demons. And that’s why I think they took her.’

‘But who took her? And where?’ Ben was on his feet. ‘We have to help her – if she’s in danger!’

Knight put his hand on Ben’s shoulder, calming him. ‘We shall do what we can. But it’s been some time now, Ben. She could be … anywhere.’

‘I saw her,’ Ben blurted out, though he’d meant to keep it secret. ‘By the lake, on my birthday. At least …’ He hesitated. The more he thought about it, the more uncertain he was of what he had seen. Had Sam really been there? Had he wanted her to keep her promise so badly that he’d just imagined it? ‘I thought I saw her,’ he said. ‘By the lake. And again on the way here. Only a glimpse. But … Maybe it was just wishful thinking.’

‘It happens,’ Knight said softly. ‘When we are hurt so badly, sometimes our minds pretend the hurting is over and that everything’s OK again.’

‘Will you send me back to the home?’

‘Do you want me to?’

He wasn’t sure what he was letting himself in for, but Ben was sure his best chance of finding Sam was to stay close to Knight. Maybe he could persuade the man to organise a proper search. Not like the police.

‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t want to go back there.’

‘
This
is your home now, Ben,’ Knight said. ‘You’re very lucky. Most of the children we train don’t come here to be taught how to use their abilities and what they can do to help. They are identified by agents we have in the schools and the homes, like where you were.’

‘Mr Magill,’ Ben realised. ‘He was working for you all the time!’

‘And he noticed Sam, so he called me. There were several children at the home with potential, but Sam was the most remarkable. Usually, the children who can
see
are encouraged to develop their powers in secret. At after-school clubs and in tutorials when everyone else thinks they’re learning how to type or doing extra French or playing chess. We have a network of teachers and mentors who train them up, and the children report what they
see
– the ghosts and the spirits and the demons.’

‘And then what?’

‘As I said, most of the creatures are harmless. But some must be dealt with – either by the children themselves or, in extreme cases, with help from people trained here at the School of Night. Above all, though, our work is secret from most people, and it must stay that way.’

‘Why? Surely if people knew …’

‘Can you imagine? There would be an outcry, then panic or, worse, denial and we’d be closed down. Not everyone believes in what we do. There are always those who think they can tame the demons, that they can use them to further their own aims, to gain influence and wealth. People
who will risk everything – their lives, their souls, the
world
– in the search for power.’

Ben felt as if his head was spinning from trying to absorb so much information. ‘And these people took Sam?’

‘I’m afraid it’s likely.’

‘But why? What did they want with her? Did she escape? And where is she now? Have they taken her again?’

Knight sighed. ‘I really don’t know. And you have so much to learn, Ben. In fact, it’s time you started. I’ll introduce you to the other children. As I say, we only have a few pupils here at the moment, until the next intake. But you can start at once.’ He rubbed his chin as he considered. ‘Yes, I think you can start this afternoon. Gemma and I have a job to do, with the help of a good friend of ours. He could manage it on his own, of course, but I need to see him anyway. You can come too and see what we get up to.’ Knight’s eyes widened slightly as he leaned down towards Ben. ‘If you dare,’ he whispered.

Knight guessed that Ben had already met the other children, even if only briefly. The three of them were
sitting in the lecture hall. Gemma and Rupam sat in the front row of the large amphitheatre-like room. Maria was near the back, scowling down at the rows of empty seats as they listened to the lesson.

Knight led Ben in through a door at the back of the hall. He looked down on to the semicircular stage below, where an elderly lady was standing at a wooden lectern. She leaned heavily on a walking stick as she peered through horn-rimmed glasses at a bundle of notes in front of her. She had white hair that stood out in a mass of curls round her head like a halo. She was wearing a tweed skirt and a dark knitted cardigan.

‘So the events at Widdecombe Hall would seem to bear out my earlier point,’ she was saying, ‘about the importance of checking thoroughly for curses and other enchantments that may have been placed on an area or property in antiquity.’

She looked up over the top of her glasses as Knight led Ben down towards the stage.

‘Forgive me, Madam Sosostram,’ Knight said. ‘I’ve brought you a new pupil whom I’d like to introduce to everyone.’

Ben stood nervously beside Knight. Gemma and Rupam smiled at him. Maria turned away, sitting sideways on her chair.

‘I’m sure you’ve met already,’ Knight announced, ‘but this is Ben Foundling. He’ll be joining you for the time being. Maria …’

Maria swung slowly round to glare down at them.

‘Maria, I’m sure you and the others will make Ben very welcome. It’s all a bit new to him.’ Knight turned to Ben. ‘Maria has been my Personal Seer for a long time. For the last eighteen months she’s been helping to train Gemma to take over.’

Maria’s scowl deepened and she looked away again.

‘Gemma you met briefly at the home,’ Knight went on. ‘And finally, Rupam is one of our star pupils. He’s still here because it’s too far for him to go home between terms. Partly, anyway. Our terms don’t match with the normal school terms,’ he added.

Rupam gave Ben a wave and mouthed, ‘Hi.’

‘You can speak more over lunch. For now, I think it will do Ben good to sit in on your session, Madam Sosostram, if that’s all right. After lunch, he’ll be joining Gemma and myself.’