Skull in the Wood (21 page)

Tilda gazed at the creatures and let out a breath.

‘Wow,' she said. ‘It's the Hunt. How amazing. The hounds must have picked up a scent. We don't normally see them over here.' She hesitated. ‘But this is really late for them to be out. I thought they only hunted in the mornings.'

I was pulling at her hand, but she wriggled free.

‘Look at them,' she said. ‘They're just foxhounds, Matt. There's nothing to be scared of.'

I peered at the hounds racing towards us. A couple of them had reached the boundary of the farm and were running up and down outside the dry stone wall, then they scrambled up it and stood on the top, eyeing us. They looked strangely familiar.

‘Lightfoot!' Tilda yelled. ‘Lawless!'

I didn't know how she could tell at this distance, but I guessed she was right. My chest loosened a little.

‘They must have got out and met up with the Hunt somehow,' Tilda said. ‘But they shouldn't be hunting with the pack – they haven't been trained properly yet. I can't see any riders, though. Maybe the rest of the hounds escaped from the Hunt kennels and Lightfoot and Lawless joined up with them. I'd better phone the kennel man and tell him.' She made a move towards the two hounds.

‘Don't,' I said, and grabbed her hand.

Tilda was right – it was the overgrown puppies. But something about their eyes had changed. They were sort of hard and blank, and they were staring straight at us. One of them – Lightfoot? Lawless? I didn't know – bared his teeth and let out a long, low growl. Tilda took a step back. Behind the puppies were other
hounds, bigger ones, leaping for the wall. They'd clear it easily.

We looked at each other. Then we turned and fled.

I snatched a glance behind us as we pounded away. Lightfoot and Lawless were already racing through the field towards the farmhouse. We were nearly in the front yard, but I knew the front door was still locked. We wouldn't make it in time.

‘East Barn,' I yelled.

The pack was in the vegetable garden now. The noise of their yipping and baying rose behind us, but we didn't stop. I pelted round the corner into the front yard and dived into the barn. Tilda and Jez shot in behind me. The hounds were bearing down and the yard filled with their cries, a cacophony of screeching, yowling, yapping barks. My worst nightmare – but this time I wasn't sleeping.

The gabbleratchet was here. It wasn't a dream – there was no doubt about it. It was a hunt. And we were the quarry.

Just in time I slammed the door and wrenched down the wooden latch to secure it. The hounds flung themselves against it, testing it. It wouldn't stand up to them for long.

30

Tilda

M
y mind was gibbering with shock. I reached for Jez, who was trembling even more than I was. Matt was pacing up and down in the darkness of the barn. Gabe must have moved the cow and its calf back to the fields yesterday, but it still smelt pleasantly of hay and dung. Only now we were trapped.

Outside the demented barking was getting more and more frenzied, and the door groaned with the slam of bodies against it.
Thump
, it went.
Thump.

I breathed out, expelling all the air right down to my stomach, then again and again. It worked – I didn't feel quite so faint any more. But the hounds
weren't giving up.

Thump.

‘They definitely must have escaped from the Hunt kennels,' I said. ‘I bet the kennel man will be round soon. He'll take them home.'

Matt gave a choked laugh. He was standing below the little window at the back of the barn, and his face was lit up by the horrible sun-like moon.

‘You saw how the skull had changed, didn't you?' he said.

Suddenly I could see it in every detail as it twirled in the breeze. The broad head, the long flattish muzzle. The teeth. It had been the skull of a hound.

‘First geese, then hounds,' I whispered.

‘We should have known,' said Matt. ‘I knew the gabbleratchet was hellhounds. I just didn't think they'd be real.'

The barn door shook and groaned. Through a thin crack I could see that the front yard was full of dark shapes, all legs and mouths and eyes and that hideous baying cry. I shut my eyes, but it just made the noise more frightening, so I forced them open again.

‘We've got to get out of here,' said Matt. ‘That door's going to give way soon.'

Thump.

He spun round. ‘That little window at the back,' he said. ‘We might just be able to get through it.'

He grabbed a straw bale and dumped it under the window, then ran for another one. I shook myself and joined him in making a pile.

‘You go first,' said Matt. ‘I'll help you up.'

The idea of going outside terrified me. What if the hounds realised what we were up to? What if they got hold of our scent and found their way round to the back of the barn? But staying here wasn't an option. The door sounded as if it was about to splinter.

‘What about Jez?' I said.

‘She'll have to manage on her own.'

I turned and faced him. ‘She's coming with us.'

Matt's mouth twisted, but he knew I wouldn't give in. He let out a sharp breath. ‘OK, we'll have a go. If you get through first, I'll try and pass her up to the window. Maybe you can pull her out. But be quick.'

He gave me a leg up. The window was tight, but I managed to haul myself through. I thanked my lucky stars that East Barn backs on to the side yard, which is entirely enclosed except for the gate leading round to the other side. I'd be safe here for a moment or two.

It was a big drop down, though. I breathed in, shut my eyes and jumped. At the front of the barn the
crazed baying continued unbroken.

I looked back up again. Jez's paws appeared at the window then disappeared. I held my breath. At last they reappeared again.

‘Come on, girl,' I whispered. ‘Come on.' And suddenly she was twisting through and balancing on the sill and springing down to me, and I was holding my hand over her muzzle to stop her from barking, and hugging her tight.

My heart was racing so hard I thought I might collapse. I was desperate to run now, but I forced myself to wait till Matt appeared. As I cast my eyes around in panic, I spotted something against the back wall of East Barn that that might just help us. Gabe must have left it there by mistake. I offered a silent prayer of thanks.

‘Come on, Matt,' I said under my breath.

There was a violent splintering of wood and an eruption of baying. The hounds must be nearly inside the barn.

Then Matt was down on the ground beside me, panting as if he'd never stop. I let go of Jez and grabbed hold of his hand.

‘I only just did it,' he said. ‘I didn't think I'd make it in time.' His eyes were wide and starey.

‘If we're really quiet we can sneak through to the back yard from here while they're still in the front one, then into the vegetable garden,' I whispered. ‘They might not see us. With luck we'll be able to get into the house through the back door. If it's open, that is.'

He shook his head. ‘They'll catch us. They'll trace our scent to the window and work it out. They're going to hunt us, Tilda. To the death.'

Suddenly I felt furious. We couldn't give in. The gabbleratchet wasn't going to defeat us. There had to be a way to stop this.

‘Not if I can help it,' I said.

I picked up the petrol can I'd found by the wall and unscrewed the lid. Then I fished in my coat pocket and waved a box of matches in the air.

‘Take these,' I said. ‘I'll lay a trail of petrol. If they start following, you've got to light it straight away. Now come on, and be careful not to step in it. If you don't want to fry, that is.'

I stole away, one hand on Jez's collar, the other clutching the petrol can. Matt was standing in a kind of daze, still too shocked to move. But at last he pulled himself together and followed me.

Cautiously we skirted round the back of East Barn. We could hear the hounds inside the barn now,
looking for us. There was no time to hang about. I glanced at Matt and he nodded. I stepped well away from the wall and started pouring a line of petrol on to the flagstones.

Suddenly the noise changed. There was a flurry of yaps and a deep, low growling. I turned round and felt my gaze being drawn upwards.

There on the windowsill, staring down at us, was Lawless. I don't know how he'd managed to get up there on his own, but he had. His eyes met mine. There was nothing in them that I recognised any more.

He sniffed the air. Then he raised his head and howled.

31

Matt

W
e started running. Already we were out of the side yard and crossing the back yard past the chicken shed towards the back garden, and Tilda kept on sloshing out petrol behind her like there was no tomorrow. In shaking fingers I held a match ready.

And all at once the hounds were surging out of the front yard and through towards us in a black river, and Jez was growling back at them and trying to shake off Tilda's hand.

‘Now!' she screamed.

I lit the match and threw.

The flames shot up. One of the hounds fell and
yelped in pain. The rest wheeled round in a mass of dark bodies, snarling and snapping. One started to howl. Was it Lawless? Then the others took up the call. The cry of the gabbleratchet rose again, cold and deathly and utterly terrifying.

We raced towards the back door.

Please, please don't let it be locked
, I prayed.

I got there first and turned the knob. Miraculously, wonderfully, utterly fantastically, the door opened. Tilda dragged Jez through and we banged it shut and bolted it top and bottom.

I hurtled through the hall and bolted the front door, too. Tilda was clinging to Jez as if she'd never let her go.

‘Let's take her upstairs,' she said. ‘I don't want her near them.'

We bundled Jez up and into Tilda's room. Tilda slumped on to her bed and Jez got up with her. I swept a load of untidy clothes off a chair and fell into it.

‘Maybe they'll give up now,' said Tilda. But she didn't sound like she believed it for a moment.

I wanted to play along, but I couldn't. Outside the hounds were swarming round the back door, baying for our blood.

‘Listen,' I said. ‘They're not going to give up.'

‘Why?' said Tilda. ‘How do you know?' I could hear the beginning of a wail catch at the back of her words.

‘I don't know. But I can feel it in my bones. It's him. Old Scratch. The devil. First he wanted Kitty. And now he wants me, too.'

Outside the clamour of the hounds had moved closer. It sounded as if it was right under the bedroom window. Suddenly we heard the smashing of glass and the baying grew higher and higher. They were inside the house.

We both froze. Then together we began pushing the chest of drawers against the door.

Tilda sat on her bed and hugged Jez close. We waited. And waited.

I knew it was all because of me. I'd made that stupid bargain in my dream. I'd told myself that sacrificing Paul was the only thing I could do. But I'd wanted it, too. I'd wanted him out of the picture, out of my life, even though I knew Mum loved him. Knew that she wanted to marry him. And now Kitty would die – and me and maybe Tilda too.

I crept over to the window, keeping my head down. The frenzied barking was louder still, and down below I could hear baying and crashing. It wouldn't take them long to find us.

Suddenly I realised what I had to do. My stomach churned as I peeked down at the creatures swarming beneath the window. But I had to save Tilda – whatever it took.

I unfastened the latch and pushed the window ajar. The sound of the hounds rose louder.

‘Matt!' said Tilda. She sounded terrified. ‘What are you doing?'

I looked back at her.

‘I'm going down there. I'll draw them away from here. Maybe I can trap them in a barn and get help. I've got to do
something
!'