PathFinder (6 page)

“Tod. Stop. Listen.
They’re inside the house
.”

Tod went pale. From the floor below came Aunt Mitza’s familiar low growl followed by a terrifying new sound for Tod – a rapid series of
click-click-clicker-click-click-click-click
. Goosebumps went running over Tod and Oskar. The clicks were utterly inhuman – and frighteningly close.

But Tod still seemed not to understand. “Aunt Mitza!” she whispered. “They’ll get her.”

Oskar shook his head with a grim smile. “No, Tod. Aunt Mitza fixed this up. They’ll get
you
.”

Tod looked horrified.

A flight of open stairs led down to the kitchen. Suddenly, a bulky Aunt Mitza-shaped shadow, thrown into sharp definition by the blazing candles in the room below, moved across the bottom step.

Oskar was beginning to panic. “Tod,” he whispered, “we’ve got to get
out
.” Tod understood now. She grabbed hold of Oskar and propelled him through one of the two doors leading off the landing. As they hurried into the room, the stairs shook – Aunt Mitza was on her way. And on her heels, they both knew, were the Garmin.

The room smelled musty. It contained the big bed that Tod’s parents had once shared and a small chair strewn with Aunt Mitza’s clothes. Its flimsy door shook as Aunt Mitza crossed the landing. Tod was hurrying across to the furthest window when something happened that froze them to the spot: a heavy Aunt Mitza footstep loosened the latch and the bedroom door swung slowly open.

Tod and Oskar stared at each other in panic. Through the opening they saw Aunt Mitza’s broad back. She was facing three-quarters away from them, holding a candle and looking down the stairs. Tod – who had spent many frightening evenings sizing up her step-aunt – stared at Aunt Mitza, trying to anticipate her next move. Never before had it been so important to get it right. From the solid immovability of Aunt Mitza’s stance, Tod reckoned that she was too preoccu­pied with the Garmin to bother about an annoying door. But Tod also knew that any movement would catch Aunt Mitza’s eye – they must tough it out, stay stone-still and hope. Tod glanced at Oskar and she could see he had come to the same conclusion.

From the shadows, Tod and Oskar heard the soft
thub-thub
of paw pads. Aunt Mitza raised her arm to hold the candle high to guide them, and it was now that Tod saw the Garmin for the first time. With some difficulty, she controlled a shiver that welled up from deep inside her. Aunt Mitza stepped back, crowded out by the huge creatures. She pointed at the ladder leading to Tod’s attic room and one of the Garmin let go a thin stream of dribble from its mouth, as if excited by the prospect ahead. Surprisingly agile for its size, the Garmin headed up the ladder. The other two followed it, their huge, flat heads nodding with each step. Oskar clenched his fists. It made him feel sick to think that if he had been a few minutes later, right now Tod would be facing these creatures alone.

Aunt Mitza moved to the foot of the ladder and gazed upwards, waiting, Oskar knew, for Tod’s scream. This was their chance.

He turned to Tod and mouthed,
Let’s get out of here!

Gone

Tod slipped the catch
on the bedroom window and swung it open. The salt-scented night air swept into the musty room, and Oskar looked at Tod anxiously. Surely Aunt Mitza would smell the sea?

But out on the landing, Aunt Mitza had other things to worry about. She could hear the heavy thudding of running, jumping, padding paws as the Garmin paced the room, looking for their prey; she could hear the splintering of wood as furniture was hurled to the floor and increasingly loud
click-clicker-click
s. But she could hear no shrieks, no screams, no pleas for help. Nothing. Aunt Mitza knew enough about her step-niece to expect her to put up a fight. A worm of worry began to gnaw at her. Why was it taking so
long
?

By now Tod was out of the window, out into the rain that was coming in from the sea, out and swinging across to the fishing net that hung down the back of the house. Quickly, Oskar followed. As he scrabbled on to the net he heard the heavy
thub-thub
of the Garmin leaping down the attic steps. Then came a series of low, threatening clicks, quickly followed by Aunt Mitza’s voice, sharp with panic: “She
is
up there. I
promise
you. She must be hiding in her secret cupboard. She’s a devious little madam. I’ll go up and get her.”

As Aunt Mitza’s hurried ascent of the ladder sent the window rattling, Oskar quickly clambered down after Tod, who was waiting for him below. He grabbed hold of Tod’s hand and dragged her to the undercroft and trapdoor to the Burrow entrance. Tod shuddered. She hated the Burrows.

“Not down there,” she whispered.

“Yes,” hissed Oskar. “We have to.”

Tod watched Oskar pull up the trapdoor and disappear into the dark, then she took a deep breath and followed him down the short ladder. The Burrow was as horrible as Tod had expected, but Oskar led the way in a very capable manner, and his light stick gave her some reassurance that she was not about to step on a sand snake. She followed Oskar as he headed steadily on through the cave-cold sand, and a few minutes later they emerged at the cinder track.

The rising wind and sharp spikes of rain took their breath away as they turned to look back at Tod’s house. The lights still blazed out and nothing seemed to have changed. Tod stared at her home, trying to make sense of what had just happened, but it gave her no clues.

“C’mon,” said Oskar. “We’re not safe here. Follow me.”

Tod nodded, but did not move. Oskar grabbed her hand and pulled. “Tod,” he said urgently. “Please. Come on.”

“Yeah. OK.” But still Tod stood, mesmerised by her house.

And then a thin, terrified scream cut through the night. It flew out of the house, across the dark and windswept dunes, and it made the hairs on Oskar’s neck stand on end.

The scream set Tod free. She and Oskar set off at a sprint; they hurtled down into the main Burrow, which was wide enough for two, and they did not stop until Oskar skidded to a halt at the tenth exit and jerked his thumb at a ladder that led upwards. He shot up the ladder, pushed open the trapdoor and waited as Tod tumbled out behind him.

Oskar let the trapdoor drop with a bang and sighed with relief. He was home. Safe. He took Tod’s hand and led her out from the undercroft towards the outside steps. As they emerged from the shadows, the steps shook and two big feet came into view.

“Jerra!” Oskar called out.

Oskar’s big brother spun around, a surprised look on his round, sunburned face. “Hey, Osk – what’re you doing here? You’re meant to be at Tod’s. Mum will have a fit if she knows you came back on your own.” Jerra stopped, aware now that Oskar was not alone. “Who’s that?” he asked.

Tod stepped forward. “Me,” she said. “Hello, Jerra.”

“Hey, Tod,” Jerra said. Puzzled, because he knew very well that Tod was not allowed out, he asked, “What you doing here?” And then, quickly, “Oh. I mean, it’s really nice to see you. Really great, but you’re not usually –”

“Shut up, Jerra,” Oskar interrupted. “We’ve got to get inside. Fast. And bar the door.”

Jerra looked shocked – Oskar was usually so calm. “OK, Oskie,” he said.

Surprised at how shaky her legs suddenly felt, Tod climbed the steps and stepped uncertainly into the welcoming candlelit room. Oskar’s mother was busy at the kitchen end of the room, but at the unfamiliar footstep on the threshold she turned around. Her face lit up when she saw Tod. She put down a bunch of sea kale she was chopping and, wiping her hands on her apron as she went, hurried over to Tod and enveloped her in a hug.

It was too much for Tod. To her dismay, tears welled up in her eyes. Since her father had disappeared, Tod had tried not to cry. She was afraid that if she started she might never stop.

The noisy entrance of Oskar and Jerra saved her. “Ma, we’ve got to bar the door,” Jerra said, picking up the iron bar that hung ready on the wall.

“And the windows,” said Oskar, hurrying across the room.

Rosie Sarn stared at her sons in dismay. “Oh my days,” she said. “What has happened?”

Light of Day

Tod woke slowly. It took her
a while to understand why the grey light of dawn was coming into her room in the wrong place, why the howling wind was not making her window frame rattle and why the sea sounded so much quieter. A few long, drowsy minutes later, she remembered. She was in Ferdie’s room – in Ferdie’s bed. Warily, Tod opened her eyes and gazed around the plain, wood-shuttered room. She looked down at the floor just to check that Ferdie was not lying on the little spare truckle bed like she always used to in the happy days before Dan Moon had disappeared, when Tod had been allowed to sleep over at the Sarns’.

But there was no truckle bed and no Ferdie. Tod slumped back on the pillow and stared up at the wooden ceiling, from which hung the intricate kites that Ferdie used to sew and decorate. Something caught Tod’s eye: a tiny, green felt dragon on the end of a little chain dangling on a hook just above her head. Tod reached out to stroke it. This was Ferdie’s lucky mascot – she had carried it everywhere with her and kept it beside her at night. But Ferdie had had no time to grab her dragon the night she was taken by the Garmin. The thought of how horrific it must have been for Ferdie swept over Tod and mingled with her own terror of the night before. She knew she had been very lucky. Oskar had done for her what he had not been able to do for Ferdie.

As Tod listened to the sounds of the Sarn household beginning to stir, her fear ebbed away and she realised that for the first time since her father had gone, she felt safe. She drifted into a comfortable half-sleep, with the sound of the wind and the rain outside, luxuriating in the feeling of being secure inside.

At breakfast Rosie Sarn took charge. The long, scrubbed table was set for seven, and Rosie, small and round with her dark curly hair worn in a thick plait, sat at the end of the table, cutting slices of bread from a long loaf while Jonas Sarn fussed about the stove, frying the breakfast sardines. Ranged along benches on either side of the table were the Sarn family. Next to Rosie was little Torr, five years old, his dark hair sticking up on end as it always did, his bright blue eyes big with the knowledge that something exciting had happened last night that no one would tell him about. Next to him sat Oskar and next to Oskar was an empty plate that would stay that way all through breakfast – this was Ferdie’s place, which Rosie Sarn laid for every meal.

Tod sat quietly opposite Torr. Beside her Jerra – tall, lanky and brown from the sea – fiddled awkwardly with his knife. No one spoke. It felt as though there was too much to say, that once they began to talk they would not be able to stop. Rosie passed the slices of bread along the table and Jonas arrived with a pan of sizzling sardines. They ate quietly, the clink of the knives and the bubbling of the coffee pot the only sounds to break the silence. Torr gazed from one face to another, trying to work out what had happened, impatient to know. In the middle of chewing his last sardine he said, “Tod, did Aunt Mitza go ’way?”

“Torr, please don’t talk with your mouth full,” said Rosie.

Torr swallowed his sardine. “But
did
she? Because Aunt Mitza doesn’t like us, does she, Tod? That’s why you can’t come and stay with us any more. But now you are here.” Torr smiled. “Which is very,
very
nice.”

Tod smiled back at Torr. “Torr, you would not believe how nice it is to be here,” she said, glancing uncertainly at Rosie. Tod was unsure how much to say in front of Torr. She didn’t want to scare him. Rosie shook her head in warning.

But Torr was not to be put off. “So
did
Aunt Mitza go ’way?” he persisted, adding, “I hope she did, because she was
horrid
.” He glanced at his mother, expecting her to tell him that he must not call anyone horrid, but his mother said nothing.

The memory of the thin, high scream that Tod had heard on the dunes played back in her head – and not for the first time that morning. “I think,” she said slowly, “that maybe I ought to go and see … see if Aunt Mitza really has, er, gone away.”

Jonas, a man of few words, spoke for them all. “We will come with you,” he said.

Out of the Box

Aunt Mitza was gone
.

Tod, Oskar, Jonas and Jerra stood in the wreckage of the room where a little more than twelve hours before, Oskar had sat eating a very awkward supper. They had searched the house and found nothing but destruction. Tod thought it looked as though the storm had swept through the inside of the house, leaving the outside oddly untouched. Except, she thought, a storm left a freshness in the air when it abated, and the smell inside the house was anything but fresh.

Oskar wrinkled his nose in disgust. “It smells revolting.”

“It smells of fear,” Tod said sombrely. “Poor Aunt Mitza. She must have been terrified.”

Oskar looked at Tod in amazement. “
Poor Aunt Mitza?
Tod, all this was Aunt Mitza’s own doing. She brought those creatures here. And it was
you
who was meant to be terrified. And
you
who would have been gone this morn–” Oskar gulped. The thought of coming here and finding Tod gone was too much.