“Yes. I have.”
The words stop me in my tracks. “You have?”
“Yes. A long time ago.”
I close my mouth and try to regain some control within the conversation, but she speaks again.
“There was a reason she was at your house that night, Ramya.”
“It was a party.”
“Yes. And who gets invited to parties?”
I shrug. “Family. Friends.”
“Yes. Quite.”
Before I can ask some much-needed follow-up questions, she flicks her wrist towards our bedroom door. It opens and the look she gives me is one not to be challenged. She is done with me for the night.
For once, I don’t push. I step back inside of my room.
“Goodnight, Ramya,” she says to my back, her voice finally devoid of that cold touch.
I don’t respond.
Marely is sitting on his bed, watching me as I close the door behind me.
“Shall we just scout during the day?” he stage-whispers.
I hardly hear him. I’m staring at the open window, its curtains fluttering in the winter wind.
“Marley,” I murmur, my voice no louder than the creak of the floorboard that I step upon, as I move further into the room, towards the moonlight. “Look.”
We both move to the window.
“How?” Marley gasps. “How has it…?”
Standing tall outside the house, in a place where nothing stood before, is the oak tree from the front garden. Taller than it was, and now next to our room.
Chapter Four
Alona
“It’s moved,” I say. “It keeps moving! I didn’t imagine it.”
I can sense Marley’s bewilderment. “The tree?”
“Yeah,” I answer, sliding the windowpane all the way up and letting the winter cold slither inside. “It was around at the front of the house when you arrived. Remember? Now it’s here. And taller.”
Being able to see through magical Glamour is definitely a gift but sometimes it’s lonely. When you’re the only one who can see something that wants to be hidden, it’s difficult. Marley and I view the world through entirely different lenses. It frustrates and isolates both of us, sometimes. Yet Marley always tries to understand what I’m seeing, and never tells me
I’m insane.
Which is all I need, really.
I glance back at the bedroom door, making sure that it’s shut tight. Then I swing myself out onto the windowsill and grab hold of the nearest, and most sturdy looking, branch. The oak tree has plenty so I start to move.
“What are you doing?” gasps Marley.
He is right to be horrified. I’m Dyspraxic. It’s a learning difficulty that affects coordination, speech, and motor skills. I’m perhaps not best suited for climbing up or down massive trees that are as tall as a tower.
Yet, that is exactly what I’m doing.
I shimmy my way towards the trunk of the tree, careful not to look down. Instead, I throw Marley a look and jerk my head towards the oak. “Come on. It’s fine. It’s also our only way down.”
He more than hesitates. He looks incredibly sceptical.
“Wait,” I suddenly say.
“I wasn’t doing anything,” he replies, still gingerly eyeing up the tree. “What?”
“Grab my bag. It’s on my bed.”
He vanishes for a moment and returns with a tote bag I bought from a bookshop in Portobello. It has Grandpa’s book inside it. My book now, I suppose. He left it to me via a mysterious stranger and my job is to use it to catalogue as many Hidden Folk as I can.
That mission hasn’t ended just because a Siren has arrived in Edinburgh. If anything, it’s more urgent. If we’re all going up against an ancient enemy like the Sirens, we’re going to need numbers. We are going to need support.
Marley holds out the tote bag and, for a moment, makes to throw it to me. I glare at him, disbelief scrawled across my face.
