A Hollow in the Hills Read online

  As the girl opened the door, Izzy felt a chill between her shoulder blades, a shiver from the tattoo at the top of her spine that snaked all the way down. It appeared the moment the door opened and vanished the moment it closed. But it was there. Distinctly there.

  Bad sign. Really bad sign.

  But here in school? They wouldn’t. They couldn’t!

  She sucked in a breath and caught Clodagh’s eye. ‘I’ll just be a second.’

  Clodagh’s face turned pale, her eyes hardening. Izzy wasn’t entirely sure what Clo knew and didn’t know and she didn’t dare ask. Especially since Clo and Dylan were the only close friends she had left. Clodagh, however, was no fool, despite the outward façade she sometimes projected. She gave a brief nod and stepped closer to Ash, starting a long and detailed story about Marianne and that time in Dundrum when she’d argued with the security guard and ended up getting complimentary shopping vouchers for all of them, while Izzy stepped away. She laid the flat of her hand on the bathroom door and the shiver came back.

  Definitely something going on. And she didn’t like it.

  She stepped inside, letting the door swing closed behind her.

  Mist filled the room, mist so thick and heavy she could barely see anything. The utilitarian green and white tiles looked washed out and the fluorescent bulbs overhead hummed, feebly illuminating the room. Not enough to see further than a couple of feet though. Her breath misted in front of her face as the temperature around her plummeted, joining the mist, becoming part of it, enforcing and empowering it.

  ‘Hello?’

  The air crackled, charged, the smell of ozone hanging heavy.

  There was no answer. The world was curiously still and quiet, as if something beyond the door muffled or smothered all sound. Izzy swallowed hard, aware that her heart was suddenly the loudest thing in the room. A hum like electricity, bright and sharp, trembled through the air. The mist swirled around her, curling where she moved, folding back from her as if to avoid her touch. Or maybe it was playing with her. It seemed too aware, almost alive.

  Something shifted inside her. She had the uncomfortable feeling of being a target. It wasn’t avoiding her, but circling her. This was a game and she didn’t want to play.

  ‘Hello? Anyone in here?’ The other girl had to be in here. She hadn’t left. There hadn’t been time. Izzy could see only whiteness, mist everywhere, like someone had left a shower on with the boiler overheating. But there were no showers here. Not to mention the arctic temperature. And in the mist … movement, shapes, forms half made.

  A small whimper came from the left, in one of the cubicles. Izzy turned towards it, but she still couldn’t see anything. This was impossible.

  She conjured a small flame, a flicker no larger than her fingernail – about all she could manage – even though Dad and Gran had been absolutely specific on the restrictions about doing so. Not in school, not in public – never, if she could avoid it. But magic drew on magic. It needed something to feed on and she had no doubt that what was happening here was magic. It had to be. Might as well take advantage of it.

  Though all she could manage was a tiny flame, golden light filled the room, tempering the whiteness, and with a violent hiss, shadows moved, shadows made of mist instead of darkness. Figures stretched too far, too long, wisps of smoke and tangles of fog.

  Izzy swallowed down a cry of alarm. They peeled away from her, writhing back like ghostly vines from the flames, like living things, revealing the girl. She slumped against the cubicle wall opposite, her eyes vacant, staring at the ceiling, and her mouth stretched wide in fear. She’d scratched her face, blood dark under her broken fingernails, gashes on her cheeks, but all the fight was gone from her now. Mist trailed over her skin, curling from her mouth and nostrils like cigarette smoke. Her skin looked pale and puffy, her lips blue as if she was suffering from hypothermia. For a moment, Izzy couldn’t breathe. Was she dead? Jesus Christ, had she left it too long?

  The girl whimpered again, a sad mewling sound, but she didn’t blink or otherwise move. She just slumped there, eyes too wide, her arms and legs twisted at odd angles. Her breath sawed in and out of her chest, too fast, too desperate.

  Izzy edged towards her, trying to keep an eye on those misty shadows. The cold was growing again and her heart was beating louder and louder, as if it was calling them. She’d thought to use their magic to strengthen hers, but that wasn’t the case anymore. Who was taking advantage of whom here? She cursed silently, words she couldn’t quite force out. She hadn’t thought that her magic might make them stronger too. And there were more of them …

  They whispered now, following her every move. The humming in the lights overhead was becoming painful, like a wasp loose inside her skull. The fire in Izzy’s palm was dwindling as her own fear paralysed her. She reached out, touched the girl on the floor. Her skin felt like ice and she breathed shallowly. She needed help and fast.

  The creatures laughed and whispered and pressed closer. Tendrils of icy mist drifted towards her, floating on the chill air. Only a foot away from her. And Izzy couldn’t quite catch her own breath. She couldn’t force words from her mouth, couldn’t stop her heart from racing, thundering against the inside of her ribs. The mist swirled, drifted together, apart, together again. A hand formed – too smooth and lacking in any actual features, just a hand formed of mist. It reached out to brush icy fingers down Izzy’s cheek. Like a lover. An unwanted, terrifying lover. Energy crackled on her skin. Static lifted her hair, sent shivers down her spine.

  ‘Daughter of Míl,’ whispered a sibilant voice. ‘How long I have waited to see you? How long I have waited … Will you come to me, Grigori? Will you come?’

  Then a face – an impression of a face – born out of nightmares, thin, too thin, blue-grey and lined like old sea-washed oak. His eyes gleamed like stars in the night’s sky of his sockets. His mouth drew up into a cruel smile.

  The voice echoed on and on, repeating the phrases like they were malformed or mangled poetry. Others joined it, over and over, and in her mind’s eye Izzy saw something, an image that shouldn’t be there. A cross on a headland above the sea, stark against the sky. She knew it, but couldn’t quite grasp it, not now. She choked on the next breath and the image blurred and twisted, changing to become a bleak grey ruin on a hilltop, lit by a bonfire, with stars exploding in the air overhead. Just for a moment, as if the creatures from the mist had pushed it into her head with their clammy insubstantial fingers.

  She couldn’t help it; she screamed, the noise loud and shattering, breaking off the ceiling and the mirrors, thundering around the cubicles to fill the room with echo on echo. The guttering fire in her hand flared up in a column of incandescent light and the mist shadows flung themselves away from her, sliding through the cracks in the tiles, under the skirting boards and away. Light drained from the room with them, and the cracks all glowed for another moment and went dark.

  An alarm screamed, louder than anything she’d ever heard, a long wail that went on and on.

  The flames she had called snuffed themselves out, burnt away in panic. But the fire alarm went on and on.

  The door behind her was flung open; Ash entered first, closely followed by Clodagh and half a dozen girls who had been in the hall when Izzy came in. And then all the noise of the world burst upon her. Voices babbling, calling for help, someone shouting that they had to get a teacher, someone else yelling the name of the girl on the floor.

  Ash caught Izzy’s shoulders and pulled her back gently. ‘Are you okay? What happened?’

  ‘I just … I just found her like this.’ It was sort of true. She had to keep her head now. No one would believe in shadows from the mist and blinding fear.

  ‘We have to get out of here,’ said Clodagh. ‘The fire alarm—’

  But Ash wasn’t listening. ‘Izzy, are you sure she—?’

  ‘Of course she’s sure,’ Clodagh interrupted, her voice uncharacteristically harsh. She linked her arm with Izzy’s, pu
lling her away. Ash let them go, watching like a hawk. ‘C’mon, evacuation time. You look like you’ll either puke or pass out. Hell of a time for a fire drill.’

  Grateful that Clodagh had come to her rescue, Izzy didn’t argue. Her stomach knotted in on itself and she couldn’t stop shivering. The thought of that thing touching her, of the image in her mind … ‘Thanks, Clo.’

  The alarm went on and on, everyone heading for the exits in a stream.

  ‘Just keep walking. They’re going to be all over you when the panic’s died down. What happened in there?’ said Clodagh.

  ‘I just found her. Passed out.’

  ‘Do you think she was on something? Do you think she took something?’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe?’

  The poor kid was going to be grilled. Izzy didn’t envy her. But while she saw supernatural activity, probably fae in nature, she knew the human world would see drug abuse or psychiatric disorders. She only hoped someone would help the girl – indeed, that she could be helped.

  At least she was alive. Or at least, Izzy hoped she was still alive. Oh God, what if she wasn’t alive, if Izzy had been too late?

  ‘Did you set off the fire alarm?’ asked Clodagh.

  ‘Er …’ There wasn’t an alarm in the bathroom, was there? Or maybe there was. A sensor. There’d been that time one of the fifth years was smoking and the fire brigade turned up. At least once. A sensor then, but not a way to trigger it. So how could she explain setting it off? ‘Um … maybe?’

  Clodagh sighed, the heaviest world-weary sigh she could manage.

  ‘Only you! All that shit during the summer …’ Clodagh said cautiously, glancing around to make sure no one was near enough to overhear. ‘That crazy club and Mari …’

  To be honest, Izzy was surprised Clodagh even remembered it. She’d missed most of it and she’d got pretty much wasted on her one trip to Silver’s hollow. They reached the hockey pitch, standing a little bit away from the main huddle of their class who were all talking animatedly, like birds after worms.

  Clodagh’s tone was unusually firm. ‘She told me everything, Mari did.’

  But Mari knew bugger all as well. Right up until it cost her life. Izzy took a deep breath. ‘Clodagh, I know you think you’ve got some sort of handle on this, but really—’

  ‘I’m not an idiot, Izzy. I’ve been watching you ever since the summer. It’s all different. And I’ve talked to Dylan. You don’t have a monopoly on him.’

  No, she had to be bluffing. Dylan wouldn’t tell her anything. He wouldn’t! A surge of jealousy rushed through Izzy. Which was unfair because Clodagh was right – she didn’t have a monopoly on Dylan.

  ‘Dylan doesn’t—’

  But Clodagh interrupted her impatiently. ‘I just need to know if it’s starting again. Because if it is, if you’ve brought it here, to school, of all places, I’m getting the hell out of Dodge.’

  Izzy wanted to say it wasn’t fair, that she hadn’t asked for any of this, but that wasn’t entirely true, was it? She hadn’t asked for it, sure. Nevertheless it was her fault. It followed her. There was no denying it. She let the moment of silence drag on too long and Clo’s eyes narrowed, her gaze hardening.

  ‘Isabel Gregory!’ It was Miss Collins’ voice, their maths teacher marching on to the pitch in pursuit of them. ‘I’d like a word with you.’ But then she took one look at Izzy’s face and her expression softened. ‘You look like you’ve seen a ghost. Are you all right? We need to know what happened in the toilets. Charlotte’s barely conscious. Did you see or hear anything that can help?’

  Izzy shook her head. ‘I just found her like that. I went in and she was lying there. Then the alarm went off. I don’t know what happened.’

  And anything else … they wouldn’t believe. There hadn’t been time for anything else anyway. Miss Collins gazed at her for a long moment and then sighed, rubbing her head absent-mindedly.

  ‘Very well. We’ve called an ambulance and I’ll need you to come with me to the headmistress’ office to make a statement. This looks very bad, Isabel, and if you know anything, if you saw her with anything or anyone, we need to know now.’

  ‘She collapsed, Miss,’ said Clodagh, out of the blue, her eyes wide and her voice ringing with innocence. ‘She wasn’t looking well earlier.’

  ‘When? When did you see her, Clodagh?’

  ‘When she went in there. In the corridor by Mari’s … Mari’s …’ She choked artfully and made a show of composing herself, holding back tears. Damn, she was good. ‘I thought she was going to throw up. And poor Izzy’s had a dreadful fright, Miss. She found her in there and thought she was … was … dead. And then the fire alarm … Now everyone’s acting like Izzy did something when she didn’t. I mean, she couldn’t. She was only a minute or two ahead of us in there. She really ought to call her Mum … if this carries on.’

  Miss Collins stiffened, her eyes sharpening on Clodagh. ‘Yes, well I’m sure there’s no need for that. Stay here and get some fresh air, Isabel. Come to the office when you’re feeling better, but before you go home, understand? For Charlotte’s sake, we have to find out what happened to her.’ She turned away, raising her voice. ‘All right, girls. Back inside now. False alarm. Come along. Sarah Lowell, stop that at once!’

  She bustled off and Clodagh rolled her eyes to heaven. Maybe she was a better actress than Izzy had given her credit for. ‘You can thank me later.’

  ‘What did you just do?’

  ‘Do you miss everything? I just threatened them with your kickass lawyered-up mother, that’s what. Come with me. I still want some answers.’

  ‘No you don’t. I wanted answers once and all it got me was trouble. You have to stay out of this business, Clodagh. Please.’

  ‘Or what?’

  Izzy pulled away. ‘Or you could end up like Mari.’

  In stunned silence, Clodagh opened her mouth and closed it again like a goldfish, her eyes wide.

  No matter what, Izzy had to get Clodagh to lay off. She couldn’t afford to get anyone else involved in the world of the fae. It was far too dangerous. And if something had followed her to the school, she needed to deal with it. And fast.

  The stunned silence went on and on. ‘Please,’ Izzy whispered, instantly regretting saying it.

  ‘What-ever,’ Clodagh replied, with an attitude that said this was far from settled. ‘But eventually you’ll have to stop pushing everyone away from you. What happened to Mari wasn’t your fault. You weren’t even there. It wasn’t you and it wasn’t Dylan. It just happened and it was shit.’

  If only she knew. But Izzy wasn’t going to tell her that. Everything was connected and Mari had been killed instead of her. If the banshee hadn’t come looking for her, Mari would still be around as Queen Bee of this school and they wouldn’t be having this conversation. Charlotte wouldn’t be carted off to hospital. And Clodagh wouldn’t be asking all these questions that were only going to get her in trouble.

  ‘Leave it, Clo. Please.’

  With a snort of frustration, Clodagh turned heel and stalked away, leaving Izzy standing alone.

  She dug out her phone. She needed to talk to Dad about this. But she really didn’t want to.

  But what choice did she have? The only other person she could have asked was Jinx.

  And he was gone.

  Jinx hated travelling with the Magpies. Their snide remarks and constant chatter grated on his nerves and made him want to smash their heads together. The problem was, they knew it, which only made them worse. They pushed to see how far he’d let them go. But the worst thing was their handling of the Sídheways. They never got it right.

  They followed the paths across the city, in and out of Dublin and Dubh Linn, past the traffic and the shoppers, in front of the offices and along the rail line, over the motorway and up into the foothills of the mountains, further out than Jinx had ever gone. It made his city-bred skin crawl – all this green hanging over him, a world half-civilized, with the pavement
on only one side of the road and intermittent lampposts. It was easier in daylight at least.

  They passed a pub that had taken ‘Oirish’ to the extreme, no doubt for the benefit of the tourists, and then made their way through a gate, into a landscape of green and grey only – just scrubby fields and dry stone walls.

  The next gate jumped them by several miles and about an hour ahead in time. They were sloppy that way, the Magpies. It set his teeth on edge.

  ‘You’re really crap at this,’ Mags told Pie, who muttered an obscenity and pointed to the summit of the hill on which they were now standing. Wind snatched his actual words away, but Jinx caught the gist. How could he not?

  The entrance to the Amadán’s hollow stood at the top. It figured – they all preferred high places, vantage points. When the whole island had been covered in forests, the hills and mountaintops offered the only clear spaces, the only way to see those approaching, the best point from which to attack if necessary. Forests invited ambushes. Everyone knew that, even a city-born fae like Jinx.

  Only a few chose low-lying locations – Holly and Silver preferred the city centre and the advantages it gave them. Jinx suspected that it was a kind of smug superiority on Holly’s part, a snub to all the others – ‘Come and take me if you can.’ Silver just couldn’t stand anything rural or quiet. She thrived on sound, on noise, on the music of the city.

  ‘How far up?’ he asked.

  ‘All the way. See those big rocks?’

  There was always a marker of some kind. Often humans did it as a way of warning others of what lay beneath; sometimes his own kind did it for much the same reason. ‘Stay away or else,’ with a slightly different subtle and not-so-subtle inflection. Who wanted a shower of humans hanging around with their iron and their fire and their bad attitudes?

  ‘We don’t mix,’ Silver had told him while he’d been trying to chase thoughts of Izzy Gregory out of his head with an industrial amount of loud music and alcohol. ‘We never have. It always ends badly, usually for both parties. They fear us, and they hate anything that reminds them that they can fear. You, of all people, know how that goes.’