Hollow Earth Read online

Sandie stepped in. ‘You felt bliss, Matt. Euphoria. Joy. Van Gogh’s painting transported you beyond reality for a fleeting moment.’

  Confused, Em looked at her mum. ‘But how come it’s down there? We’ve seen Starry Night in a museum.’

  ‘It’s down in the vault because Van Gogh’s imagination is bound within it,’ Renard explained. ‘But it’s a copy. You see, when the binding decision is made, the Council of Guardians can either bind the artist’s imagination or the artist’s entire being, depending on the circumstances. If an artist is bound, he or she can choose which painting to be bound in. The Starry Night in the vault is not identical to the original, but it’s close, and Vincent himself painted it.’ He paused for a beat. ‘Poor Vincent was an unusually sad case. He went mad before his imagination was bound. His own mind was never able to come to terms with his Animare powers. Sadly, Europe in the nineteenth century didn’t appreciate him much either.’

  ‘Is that what happened to the old monk in the tower?’ asked Em.

  Renard tilted his head. ‘Perhaps, but I’m inclined to think that the old monk was, quite simply, old. His mind had lost its sharpness, and even his Guardian could do nothing to help.’

  ‘You said before that some Guardians on the Council want to lock us away like that,’ said Matt. ‘Didn’t you?’

  ‘Your mum and I will not let that happen,’ said Renard firmly. ‘One of the wonderful things about being an Animare is that when you create a work of art normally, without animating it, your art can move anyone who views it to the same heights of joy and pleasure that Matt experienced in the vault. For most Animare that is enough, and they live happy, productive lives, creating great art.’

  Sandie snuggled closer to her daughter. ‘Your grandfather and I just want you both to be happy, to be able to live your lives without any fear, no matter what you choose to do,’ she said. ‘Unfortunately, when you were born, some Guardians wanted to bind your powers right away because your dad is a Guardian like your grandfather.’

  Matt was about to interrupt, bursting with questions about the vault, about his dad. His grandfather lifted his hand. ‘Let your mum finish.’

  ‘A Guardian – like your dad – and an Animare like myself are forbidden to have children. But we did. I came to the Abbey as a young woman to learn under your grandfather’s guidance and to have a place where I could work on my art—’ Sandie’s voice broke.

  ‘And you fell in love with our dad,’ Em jumped in, squeezing her mum’s hand.

  Sandie nodded. ‘But a few years later, when you two were born …’ She stopped, looking to Renard for help.

  ‘Some on the Council suggested separating you instead of binding you,’ said Renard, leaning back in his chair, ‘because they feared how strong your imaginations could become if you grew up together.’

  ‘Kind of like in Star Wars,’ said Matt.

  Em rolled her eyes, deliberately this time.

  ‘Was our dad one of those Guardians who wanted to hurt us?’ asked Em.

  Renard looked frozen in his chair. Sandie answered quickly. ‘Of course not!’

  For most of their early years, the twins had held on to the belief that their dad was caught up in some grand scheme for good that kept him away from home. But as more birthdays had come and gone, they’d started to entertain the idea that their dad was not in their lives for some other reason. Sandie’s story that he had simply abandoned them hadn’t sat well with Matt when he was small. It wasn’t resting any easier at almost thirteen.

  ‘One afternoon,’ Sandie continued, ‘not long after we’d arrived in London, your dad left the flat and never returned. No one has heard from him since.’

  She’s lying, Matt.

  How do you know?

  I can feel it … like a clicking in my head.

  ‘So will this happen to me again?’ Em asked, letting her mum’s lie stand for now. She was feeling sleepy.

  ‘For a Guardian, the intensity of the emotions, the rapture, that emanate from a bound painting can be hard to absorb,’ explained Renard. ‘Where Matt felt only the positive that came from the painting, you absorbed everything Van Gogh felt when he was painting, Em – his sorrow and his joy. You were overwhelmed. Your brain crashed, like one of Zach’s computers.’

  ‘But why me and not Matt?’ said Em.

  ‘You seem to be developing your Guardian side – your empathy – more strongly at the moment,’ said Sandie.

  ‘Your imaginative powers are evolving differently in each of you,’ explained their grandfather.

  ‘So can we go back down to the vault some other time?’ asked Matt.

  ‘Of course, when Em’s stronger,’ said Renard. ‘But looking at the art of an Animare in full control of his or her imaginative power can be just as exquisite. So, for a while, we’ll stick with the works on public display in art galleries and museums.’ Renard lifted Em’s hand to his cheek. ‘I’m so sorry for your pain. Now get some sleep. In the morning, Simon’s going to take the three of you shopping in Glasgow.’

  ‘But aren’t we going to be punished for what we did today?’ asked Em, snuggling under her duvet.

  Sandie went over to Em’s desk, picking up the pencil case stuffed with their ill-gotten gains. ‘Not if we give this money to Seaport Primary School for art supplies,’ she said. ‘Then I think we can call it even.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Em, just relieved to be able to put the injured little boy out of her mind.

  THIRTY

  Dinner was a quiet affair that evening. Matt said very little, digesting what Renard had told them. He was also snubbing Zach, believing he had poured out the full details of what they’d done in the caves under minimal pressure from the adults.

  At the other end of the table, Zach was sulking because of the dressing-down he’d received from his dad for crashing the Abbey’s network. He was also anxious about Em. She’d looked so terribly pale when Renard had carried her upstairs to her room.

  It was a relief when finally they all went to bed. En route to her own room later, Sandie stopped to check on the twins, easing open the door to Matt’s room first. He was wrapped in his duvet, mumbling in his sleep. Sandie untangled his cover as best she could without disturbing him, then stepped down the hall to her daughter’s room.

  She laughed aloud at what confronted her. Stepping into Em’s bedroom after she’d fallen asleep was like falling into a wonderful 3-D movie. Favourite characters from Em’s imagination were shooting back and forth above her bed like colourful comets – a young Victorian girl chasing a street urchin, two teenage boys with wands, a gothic-looking witch on a broom, a superhero in a green cape, a beautiful mermaid riding a kelpie.

  Sandie perched on the edge of the bed, resting her hand on Em’s forehead. One by one, the characters exploded in vivid bursts of light, leaving tails of silver stardust in their wake. Sandie waited until the room was free of all Em’s imaginings, before getting up and leaving, gently closing the door behind her.

  Crouching in the corner, the changeling grinned, licking its thin, cracked lips, its yellow eyes piercing the darkness.

  The next morning, a heavy atmosphere covered the whole Abbey. Matt was the last one to come downstairs for breakfast. Grunting to Jeannie, he poured himself a bowl of cereal, splashing milk all over the counter. Picking up the Times crossword and pen that Renard had left on the table earlier, Matt began to scribble across the page, lightly at first. He was remembering how embarrassed he had felt when Em and Zach had ganged up on him at the beach, when that weird couple had asked to see their performance. Zach and Em had been doing that a lot recently. He didn’t like it.

  His doodling became more aggressive. Suddenly, one of the characters from the Rice Krispies box jumped off, sprinted across the kitchen counter and leaped on to the sink in front of Jeannie, who screamed, picking up the pan she was washing and splatting the little figure in an explosion of colour.

  Matt grabbed his head, howling in pain when the character exploded. He rubbed his te
mples, shocked that he’d felt the character’s demise in his head. That had never happened before.

  Renard, Simon and Sandie rushed into the kitchen. Zach and Em came running too.

  ‘What on earth is wrong wi’ everyone this morning?’ Jeanie yelled at no one in particular, waving the pan back and forth in the air as if she was batting away imaginary missiles. She glared at Matt. ‘What if I hadn’t caught that wee man and he’d headed outside? The gardeners are here!’

  ‘Matt, for pity’s sake!’ snapped Sandie, as Renard gently eased the pan from Jeannie’s grip. ‘After everything we talked about yesterday, you’re still not getting how serious this kind of messing around is, are you?’

  For Matt, this was the last straw. ‘I’m tired of you telling me what to do, what to think, what to eat!’ He swept his cereal bowl from the table, sending it crashing against the wall.

  ‘Stop yelling at Mum!’ screamed Em. ‘It’s all you ever do.’

  ‘Something bad is coming, Simon,’ said Renard, guiding Sandie away from the enraged and shaking Matt. ‘I can feel it. It’s affecting all of us.’

  Sandie looked appalled that she’d lost her temper. ‘I’m so sorry, Mattie. I’ve been feeling weird all morning.’

  Renard gathered everyone in the sitting room. Mara he left alone in her studio, merely sending Jeannie to check on her.

  ‘What’s happening, Grandpa?’ asked Em, feeling the tension in the air like something dark pressing down on her.

  ‘Someone or something is psychically affecting us all, you and Matt more than the rest of us,’ Renard told her. He turned to Simon. ‘Take the children to Glasgow as we’d planned. I’ll see what I can discover from here. It may be nothing. We may all just need a break from each other, that’s all.’

  ‘No surprise there then,’ said Matt, stomping out of the room.

  Matt, Em, Zach and Simon waited for the ferry from the mainland in a jagged silence, afraid to say anything that might disturb the precarious balance of civility. As the ferry disgorged its isle-bound passengers, Matt spotted the woman who had confronted them by the café at the beach yesterday. She was driving on to the island in a blue van, with her husband at the wheel. Matt was about to say something, but as he glanced at Em, she glared back at him.

  Stuff it, he thought, and kept his silence.

  THIRTY-ONE

  The trip to Glasgow was just what they all needed. When the train from Largs pulled into Glasgow Central, Matt was singing along to his iPod. Even better, his singing wasn’t bothering Em and Zach in the slightest.

  Simon had a number of stops to make, buying supplies for the children’s art camps that he and Sandie sometimes taught at the Abbey. Matt, Em and Zach promised to be on their best behaviour, swearing to wander the shops and nothing more. Simon relented, agreeing they could meet up in a couple of hours.

  Everyone was as good as their word. As a treat, Simon took them to his favourite restaurant in the city centre for a dinner of fish and chips, before catching the train back.

  ‘Did you know our dad really well then?’ asked Em, sipping a milkshake while they waited for their orders.

  Simon nodded. ‘Mara, your mum, a couple of others and I began our studies under your grandfather at the Abbey when we were a bit older than each of you. I came to develop my powers as a Guardian, and your mum had come to learn about her abilities as an Animare. Your dad, of course, was already there. We went to university and then returned to the Abbey afterwards.’

  ‘Are there other places in the country where Animare and Guardians can learn?’ asked Em.

  ‘Of course, Em. And not just here, in other parts of the world, too.’

  For the rest of their meal, Simon managed to find enough entertaining stories about the old days at the Abbey to keep them all in good spirits.

  ‘So did you and Mara ever double-date with my mum and dad?’ asked Em.

  Simon laughed, while the boys grunted their shared displeasure at this turn in the conversation. ‘Not really. Although, if I remember right, Mara and your dad were close. They went out a few times before he started seeing your mum. In fact—’

  Simon suddenly clutched his hand to his throat, gasping for air. Then he slumped forward on to the table.

  ‘He’s choking on his food,’ screamed Em.

  Zach looked confused, signing madly that his dad had finished eating way before they had. Something else was wrong.

  A man from one of the other tables came rushing across the room, pulling Simon upright to perform the Heimlich manoeuvre.

  Simon recovered enough to push him away. ‘Not choking. I’m okay.’

  ‘Are you sure? You don’t look too good, mate.’

  ‘Need some fresh air.’

  With considerable effort, Simon stood and signed to Zach to pay the bill from his wallet. Putting his arms around Matt and Em, he let himself be guided outside.

  ‘Flag down a taxi, Em,’ he gasped, his entire body twitching. ‘Something’s wrong at the Abbey. I can feel it.’

  In the taxi, Simon drifted in and out of consciousness. Em tried to phone home, but she kept getting Jeannie on the voice mail. When she called her mum, there was no answer either, and Renard’s phone kept going to the answering machine in his study. If Mara was in her studio, she wouldn’t have her phone with her – she hated the distraction.

  ‘I thought your dad had fixed the network, Zach!’

  ‘He had!’

  Simon was barely lucid, and appeared to be in terrible pain.

  ‘How are we going to get Dad on the train without calling attention to ourselves?’ Zach’s hands were a blur. ‘We can’t have someone phoning the police or an ambulance.’

  We need to do something, Em.

  Zach did his best to make his dad comfortable, humming softly to him and stroking his head, while Matt and Em tried to think of all the ways they might ‘do something’ without violating any of the Animare rules they’d agreed to last night.

  This is a special circumstance.

  I agree.

  Em pulled her sketchpad from her bag, flipping to a clean page.

  Wait until we get closer to the station.

  ‘Are you kids sure you don’t want me to take you to A&E?’ said the taxi driver, when they turned into the station entrance. ‘It’s not far.’

  ‘He’ll be fine once his medicine takes effect,’ lied Matt. ‘Really. Thanks, though.’

  Ready?

  Em nodded, concentrating while Matt sketched quickly. Using a silver marker from the set in her bag, she shaded the edges of the drawing when he’d finished.

  ‘Stop over there,’ said Matt to the driver.

  Zach paid for the taxi using money from his dad’s wallet, while Matt and Em hauled Simon into the wheelchair that had appeared at the kerb. The twins jogged alongside the wheelchair as Zach pushed it, doing their best to keep focused, the drawing clutched in Matt’s hand. They darted through the crowded station to the platform, making the 7.05 p.m. to Largs with only moments to spare.

  When they had Simon settled, Matt wheeled the chair to the end of the carriage, checked no one was watching, and tore up the drawing. The chair evaporated in a puff, leaving an imprint, like a burn mark, on the floor where it had stood.

  As the train passed through the many stations on the way to Largs, Simon revived enough to accept a bottle of water. Soon, he was sitting up and coherent, although momentarily confused to note that they were already on the train. When they arrived in Largs, he was himself again. Without asking how they had managed to get him on to the train, Simon hugged each one of them.

  ‘You told us that something bad was happening at the Abbey,’ said Em, her panic building the closer they got to home.

  ‘It was. So let’s not dawdle.’

  The four of them sprinted from the train station across the crowded main street to the ferry, the Range Rover in the car park on the other side.

  Simon tried not to think about what he knew to be true.

&nbs
p; Something bad had already happened.

  THIRTY-TWO

  Tendrils of fog unfurled over the island like long fingers, poking into its coves and crannies, its slopes and crags. When the ferry docked, steaming mussels and roasting chestnuts for a beach party tinged the sea air, slowing traffic in both directions as everyone gawked at the huge, smoking, oil-drum barbecues dotted across the sand.

  By the time Simon had driven the Range Rover through the gates of the Abbey, darkness had dispelled the fog and everyone inside the vehicle had a headache. Simon tried to play down his growing anxiety, but Em and Zach both felt a dull throbbing in their minds as soon as they turned into the grounds.

  Simon turned off the headlights and cruised slowly along the lane towards the towers in pitch blackness. When the Abbey loomed in front of them, it, too, was in darkness. Simon pulled off the road and into the edge of the forest, branches scraping against the car as if they were scratching to get inside.

  ‘I’m scared, Matt,’ said Em.

  So am I.

  ‘Squeeze down between the seats,’ said Simon. ‘Stay inside until I let you know it’s safe.’

  Simon had only taken two steps when he heard the car doors ease open, the children’s footsteps shuffling behind him. He ducked into the forest, letting Matt, Em and Zach follow. He was far too worried to fight with them.

  As the four of them walked into the darkness, it took shape in front of them. A shadow rose above the tree line, a hulking, black, ape-like beast with torn slits for eyes and a gaping fleshy mouth. Matt gasped. Em screamed. Zach grabbed Em’s arm, pulling her away.

  Someone inside the house is animating the forest, thought Simon in horror, pushing the children into a copse of trees.

  The beast charged at them. They were helpless, easy prey.

  But then the beast exploded into bright yellows, reds and blues in the darkness above their heads, harming no one. We should have been killed, thought Simon in astonishment. When an Animare brought a drawing to life, it was no illusion.

  But before Simon could process what had happened, a strix swooped along the treetops, its demonic owl eyes glowing red. Diving at the tree directly above their heads, the bird split apart, shooting spears of blackness that morphed into flying monkeys scampering up the nearby trees.