The Troll Heart Page 4

  Anna woke up.

  It was the middle of the night. Pale moonlight flitted through the bedroom window, tracing the edges of things with a milky glow. Max was dozing peacefully on the other side of the room, his face serene.

  She had been dreaming – and in the dream, there had been a song. Anna tried to remember it as she dozed, her mind still half-asleep. It had been a strange song, low and haunting. Now she could hear it again clearly: a warping melody that rose and fell with trembling notes.

  Except the song wasn’t from her dream.

  It was coming from outside.

  Anna climbed out from beneath the covers, tiptoeing barefoot to the closed window. She put her fingers on the window crank and slowly began to turn it, opening the window by the tiniest amount. The music became louder. It floated through the open gap, serenading her as she stood facing the night. For a moment she thought someone might have been playing the piano in the hotel foyer, but the sound wasn’t quite right; if it was a piano, it could only have been a piano filled with water, pulled up from the bottom of the sea. There was a jangling sound, too, like the rattle of a snake, shaking out a rhythm in the darkness.

  But the strangest thing of all was that Anna knew the words of the song. She found herself mouthing them as the tune carried on, unable to resist.

  ‘Here comes Mister Shellycoat,

  Bells that make his belly bloat,

  Rattling from his shelly throat,

  Stay away from me!’

  The music stopped. Suddenly all that was coming through the window was a breeze that iced Anna’s cheeks. She shivered as she wound the window closed again, her memory of the song quickly fading away. Had she just been imagining things?

  Anna was about to turn away from the window when a flash of light caught her attention. Startled, she looked down the side of the hotel, barely able to remember why she was standing there in the first place. She heard the sound of a door shutting – and then the light flashed on again, piercing through the fog in the field.

  A figure had just stepped out of the hotel. In one hand it was holding a torch; the other hand was being used to steady a large sack that was slung over its back. The figure skulked away into the evening, the torchlight bobbing in the darkness.

  It looked as if it was heading towards the river.

  Only now was Anna fully awake. Her heart pounded in her chest, filling her body with blood and terror. A humungous clue was sparkling right before her eyes – but it was escaping fast. If she didn’t move soon then it might be lost forever.

  ‘Max!’ hissed Anna. ‘Max! Wake up!’

  Max mumbled something into his pillow. Anna hurriedly tipped over her bag, emptying the contents onto the floor. From the pile she grabbed her warmest coat and a pair of torches, as well as the shadow-scarf she had dropped beside the bed.

  Max was still asleep. Anna paused, wondering if she should leave without him. Would he be brave enough to go outside at night? Probably not – but that meant she would have to go out alone. Would she be brave enough to face the darkness without him?

  ‘Come on, Max!’ she whispered again. ‘We need to go!’

  She ran to Max’s bedside, intending to shake him – but suddenly her wrist was seized in an iron grip. Anna looked down in fright to see Max’s dead fingers wrapped around her arm, squeezing her flesh so tightly that the skin was turning white. She squealed, trying to pull her hand away.

  Max jolted upright.

  ‘What’s happening?’ he asked groggily.

  ‘Let go of me!’ said Anna. ‘Someone just walked out of the hotel, with a sack!’

  Max’s eyes widened. ‘Has someone else been stolen?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ said Anna. ‘But I think we should investigate.’

  Max threw off the covers and jumped out of bed, swiftly pulling on his scarf and shoes. He hadn’t bothered changing into pyjamas before he fell asleep, and so was still dressed in all of his clothes from the day before. In seconds he was ready to leave.

  Anna stared at him, a little bewildered.

  ‘Aren’t you scared?’ she said. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’

  Max stared down at his feet. His face was scrunched up again.

  ‘I thought about what you said in the garden,’ he muttered. ‘About remembering what happened to me. And I remembered that it was horrible.’ He looked up. ‘If that’s happening to someone else now, I think we should try to help.’

  Anna smiled. Most of the time, her brother was annoying – but sometimes he got things exactly right.

  ‘Are you ready?’ she asked.

  Max grabbed a handful of lollies and stuffed them in his pockets.

  ‘Let’s go,’ he said.

  And so the siblings ran out into the hallway, shutting the door softly behind them.

  6

  A FOGGY CONVERSATION

  THE HOTEL CORRIDORS WERE CHILLINGLY quiet at night. Anna and Max crept silently along the ever-changing carpet, slinking beneath the portrait of the old woman that hung outside their room. The woman’s face looked sterner in the half-light. Anna couldn’t help but feel that the painted eyes were watching them as they moved towards the landing.

  They had just passed the vase of yellow flowers when Anna heard a creaking sound coming from the staircase ahead. She quickly grabbed Max and pulled him back behind the flower table, crouching close to the floor.

  ‘Someone’s coming up the stairs,’ she whispered.

  The children held their breath as a silhouette fell across the landing. They could hear footsteps now, drawing closer and closer; whoever was climbing the stairs was coming all the way to the third floor. Anna and Max flattened themselves against the wall, hoping that their small patch of shadow would be enough to keep them hidden.

  Someone stepped out in front of them. It was a figure who was small and thin, dressed in a billowing white nightgown. His red cravat hung limply around his neck, like a bloodstain on his throat.

  It was Mr Collins.

  Anna bit down on her scarf, trying not to squeal in fright. Max screwed his eyes shut. But Mr Collins did not see them. He shuffled past, turning left at the end of the hall without looking back.

  ‘He’s gone,’ whispered Anna, relieved.

  ‘So it’s not him that’s outside,’ said Max. ‘That’s one suspect we can cross off.’

  It was true – but who else could it be? Why had someone left the hotel so late at night?

  Anna went to stand up, but Max pulled her straight back down again.

  ‘What now?’ she said.

  Max pointed. ‘Look!’

  Two bright yellow eyes were glowing at the end of the landing. Anna crouched down as low as she could, hoping she hadn’t been seen. Who did the eyes belong to? And why were there so many people awake, so very late at night? Anna was starting to feel frustrated by the number of questions piling up in her head.

  Perhaps it was time to get some answers. Without giving Max any warning, Anna switched on her torch.

  A small black cat was standing beside the balustrade. It arched its back as the torchlight fell upon it, fixing the children with an inquisitive, yellow-eyed stare. As they watched, the cat took a step towards them – but then its head twisted to the side, its ears flicking back. A second later it was gone, bounding off into the shadows.

  ‘Oh!’ said Anna, disappointed that the cat had gone. She wished she had been holding the white knife. It would have been nice to have another pet along with them for the adventure.

  Now one small part of the mystery had been solved. Anna hoped that more answers would be waiting for them in the darkness ahead.

  The children stole swiftly down the stairs, keen to make up for lost time. The hotel foyer, as always, was deserted. Anna and Max made a beeline for the front door, stepping out together into the misty darkness.

  The night was freezing. Anna pulled her black scarf tighter, grateful for the warmth it trapped around her neck. Her hands shook as she switched on the torch
es, passing one over to Max. A frost was forming across the garden bed, icy and white. Frozen dewdrops glimmered dimly in the torchlight: a twinkling path set out before them.

  They ran through the garden as quickly as they dared, taking care not to slip on the frosty grass. Soon their torches were picking out the falling fence and the tumbledown shed. Anna tried to look across the dark field, down towards the river. She could no longer see the light that had glowed so brightly in the field. Were they too late? Anna was sure that if they could only find the suspect on the trail, a very creepy piece of the puzzle would slide into place.

  One after the other the siblings slipped beneath the fence, careful not to put too much weight on the sagging green planks. It still felt as if the fence was about to fall apart.

  ‘Billy!’ called Anna softly. ‘Billy! Where are you?’

  A sound rustled out from beneath a nearby bush – and then a black-horned head emerged through the leaves. Billy bleated as he looked up at the children.

  ‘Hello,’ said Anna. ‘Why are you hiding under there?’

  She noticed with a start that Billy was trembling badly. She rubbed her hand soothingly against his muzzle. The goat whimpered, closing his eyes at her touch.

  ‘What happened to you?’ said Anna quietly. ‘Did you see someone come this way?’

  ‘Anna,’ said Max suddenly. ‘Come and look at this.’

  He was shining his torch onto the ground. Anna looked over at the puddle of light – and then she wished she hadn’t.

  The ground was awash with blood and feathers.

  ‘I think it must have been the chickens,’ said Max queasily. ‘A fox must have got them.’

  Anna’s stomach was turning. She switched her attention back to Billy, trying hard to focus on the mission at hand.

  ‘I’m sorry about your friends,’ she said, touching the hilt of the white knife. ‘But we need your help. Someone just walked across this field – someone with a torch and a sack. Can you sniff out where they went?’

  Billy was still shaking, but he managed to lower his head in a funny nod. Without another sound, he turned and trotted away into the darkness. He stopped just out of sight, waiting for the children to catch up. Anna managed a smile.

  Max grimaced as he stepped over the bloody pile of feathers, his scarf held tightly over his nose.

  The path down to the river was very poorly maintained. It curved down the hill around yet another assembly of hedgerows, dancing between rabbit burrows and thick clusters of brambles. Twisting shoots stretched out from the bushes, hidden by darkness and fog, ready to surprise a traveller with an unexpected touch on the cheek. Max yelped as he tripped sideways into a wild blackberry bush, the brambles tearing at his calf.

  The fence at the end of the field had collapsed entirely. Nerves began tickling their way across Anna’s body as she stepped over the planks before the willow trees. She wondered if this had been a good idea after all. Were they endangering themselves for no reason? Should they have waited until morning to try to follow the trail? And then came the scariest thought of all – was this exactly what Jamie Sparrow had done three days ago?

  Billy slipped down past the willow trees and disappeared. Anna hesitated, suddenly unwilling to follow. Max smiled at her nervously. Anna took a deep breath, steeling herself for the next big step.

  Together the children crept between the trees.

  The fog fell on them at once. It wrapped around their faces like a blindfold, blocking the light from their torches, hiding the branches that reached out to scratch at their faces.

  Anna thought she could hear Max’s footsteps beside her, but she couldn’t see anything at all. She felt a hand grab at her arm and flinched away before realising that Max had been trying to find her; she turned around, reaching back with one arm, but now there was nobody there. She spun around in a circle, suddenly unable to tell which way she was walking.

  Fear clutched at Anna’s heart. Something crunched in the darkness by her side with a sickeningly loud snap, which almost made her cry out. Instinct made her switch off her torch.

  ‘Who’s there?’ she hissed. ‘Max! Is that you?’

  And then a voice rose out from the night. It was a strange and terrible voice, and it raised the hairs on Anna’s arms and legs, freezing her to the spot.

  ‘Gull eller blod,’ it said.

  ‘Ro deg ned,’ said a second voice. ‘It’s only me.’

  The first voice was like nothing Anna had heard before: a gravelly growl that seemed to send tremors through the earth itself. The second voice clearly belonged to a man. It was a voice Anna recognised, but she couldn’t quite tell from where. She held her breath, listening.

  ‘What is your offer?’ spoke the first voice. ‘Speak now.’

  The man said something too quietly to be heard. Anna decided to creep closer. She took a blind step in the direction of the voices, her hands held out in front of her face. Her fingers touched something rough: a tree trunk. She used the tree to steady herself, sneaking forward through the darkness. Fragments of conversation floated into her ears – and something else, too. Anna frowned in confusion. The new noise sounded like a birdcall, but it wasn’t a birdcall she had been expecting.

  It was the clucking of chickens.

  ‘… it’s the usual amount,’ the man was saying. ‘They’re all here, and only one of them dead. På min ære. I offer this blood in exchange for two more crossings. Agreed?’

  Anna began to tremble. She wanted to hear more, to understand what was being said, and yet the sound of the first voice sent tremors down her spine.

  ‘I accept,’ spoke the voice. ‘Two crossings more.’

  ‘These are yours, then,’ said the man. ‘I’ll be back in the morning with my bags. God natt og god middag.’

  The clucking stopped. Anna remained silent, waiting to hear more, but no more words came. The conversation was over.

  A bright light shone suddenly through the trees. Heavy footsteps followed, crunching over the grass and fallen leaves. Anna realised someone was climbing back up the hill – and they were heading straight towards her.

  It was too late to run. Anna crouched down at the base of the tree, pressing herself against the trunk. Would the long grass be enough to hide her? Her heart was hammering loudly: she forced herself to take slow, deep breaths, willing her body into silence.

  The light blared overhead. A boot trod down so close to Anna that it might have been trying to break her fingers. Anna tried her hardest not to move, not even to blink, but still her eyes darted upwards, daring to look at the figure passing before her.

  It was Mr Candle.

  An owl hooted somewhere in the trees above. Mr Candle spun around, his torch blazing. In his other hand he carried a small silver knife. The sack he had carried earlier was nowhere to be seen. Anna trembled in the grass, sure she had been spotted – but the torch was pointed upwards, carefully scanning the wooded canopy. After a moment the man lowered his knife and turned back around, trudging away through the darkness.

  Anna stayed crouched by the tree for a full minute, too scared to move. Her mind was racing. Where had Max and Billy ended up? Had they been able to hear the strange conversation? Anna summoned the courage to stand up, staring hopelessly into the shadows.

  ‘Max!’ she whispered. ‘Billy! Are you there?’

  She thought she heard someone answer through the trees, somewhere on her left. Anna started walking slowly towards the sound, wondering if it was safe to turn her torch back on. Where was she?

  And then the ground gave way beneath her foot: a rabbit burrow had collapsed under her weight. Anna fell painfully against the side of the hill, earth and sky merging into one as she tumbled through the centre of a bramble patch. She tried to dig her hands into the dirt, desperate to slow her fall before she rolled into the river – and then her head banged into a tree stump, and it was only her thoughts that were still spinning.

  Anna blinked. The moonlit river trickled by her side
, green and eerie in the night. Trails of vapour ran all the way across the surface of the water, drifting with the current like a thousand pearly sails. They seemed to make a strange sound as they glided along, like the gentle tinkling of a wind chime, or distant bells.

  There was also something beside the river. Set into the riverbank was a standing stone, craggy and vast. It was big – very big. It looked almost like a statue.

  A statue with arms, and claws, and big, rough teeth.

  7

  CABIN FEVER

  ANNA SCRAMBLED AWAY FROM THE RIVER in alarm. A wave of mist rose up from the water, hiding the great rock from view. But was it a rock? Anna frowned. Had she just been imagining things, or had the standing stone looked like a man?

  She was about to stand up when someone seized her under the arm. A gloved hand closed over her mouth, smothering her scream.

  ‘Careful, now,’ whispered a voice. ‘Back away from it slowly, nice and quiet.’

  Anna almost passed out from fright. She tried to bite the hand over her mouth, but the grip was strong. Suddenly she found herself being hoisted into the air. Anna struggled and kicked as she was carried along the riverbank, further and further away from where she had fallen. Panic coursed through her veins. How could she get loose?

  The white knife was wrapped too deeply in her coat to be easily retrieved. Anna raised her torch, hoping to strike her assailant – but as she moved, her finger brushed against the switch. The torch flared up in the night, shining directly into her own face; Anna gasped, blinded, trying to blink away the spots that were dancing before her eyes.

  ‘You silly girl!’ said the whispering voice, crackly and scared. ‘Oh, you foolish girl!’

  With a sudden swerve, they changed direction. Anna still couldn’t see what was happening, but she had the strange sensation that they were now walking on top of the river itself. She heard the creaking of a hinge, and the shutting of a bolt – and then she was released, falling sideways onto something soft and springy.

  ‘Who are you?’ gasped Anna, finally able to speak. ‘Where are we?’