The Boy with One Name Page 2

  ‘Jones!’ shouted the revolver again.

  Suddenly, a connection sparked somewhere deep inside Jones’s head and he pulled the catapult all the way back and fired.

  THREE

  The ball bearing pinged off the gravel beside Ruby’s head, making her cry out.

  ‘Stand up,’ ordered the boy, his catapult already reloaded. ‘The next one won’t miss.’

  Ruby kept her eyes fixed firmly on him as she stood up slowly, gravel falling off her like drops of water. Something dark wormed through her guts and she wanted to be sick.

  ‘Follow me,’ continued the boy, walking backwards across the driveway towards the cottage, keeping Ruby in his sights as she followed him. He was no bigger than her. His lean face was grubby. The dark rings under his eyes made him look older than he surely was. ‘Stop there,’ he barked. Ruby halted in the middle of the driveway, which was still well lit by the ball of light the man in the baseball cap had thrown into the sky. ‘Look up at the moon,’ he instructed. ‘I need to see if it does anything to you. That way we’ll know for sure if you’ve been cursed or not.’

  Ruby could see the moon above the roof of the cottage. It was bright and almost full. But, although she did as the boy asked, her eyes kept darting to the ball of light floating above the driveway. Her mind was busy, trying to process how the man had done such a thing before he’d been killed, and then a shudder rippled through her as she remembered that too.

  ‘You’ve got no guts, boy,’ shouted the revolver. ‘What’s the point in hanging around, waiting for who knows what other evil to turn up? What do you think Maitland would say about that?’

  ‘Maitland ain’t here no more,’ replied the boy, who was staring at Ruby as if he knew exactly what she was thinking: How on earth can a gun like that talk?

  ‘After all the time he spent teaching you to be a Badlander,’ continued the talking gun. ‘I mean . . . you’re his apprentice . . . whaff ifff somefing . . . ’

  The voice became too muffled to hear any more as the boy back-heeled a mound of gravel over the revolver and allowed himself a grin. Ruby noticed his crooked smile and a set of slightly browned teeth. When he looked back at her, he was serious again. She wanted to ask about the talking revolver and the ball of light, but she was wary of the loaded catapult creaking in his hands.

  ‘What’re you doing here?’ asked this odd, raggedy boy dressed in an overcoat that was too big for him, the sleeves turned up.

  ‘Running away,’ said Ruby quietly. ‘I was going to sleep here tonight. The people that own the cottage only come for weekends and holidays. I saw them leaving this morning with their car packed when I was on the school bus. I can’t stay with my foster family any more.’

  The boy frowned. ‘I know what a school bus is. But I ain’t ever heard of a “fozzter” family.’

  ‘Foss-ter family,’ corrected Ruby. ‘One you stay with when things aren’t right with your real one.’

  ‘What’s wrong with yours?’

  Ruby chewed her cheek for a moment and wiped away a curl of black hair pasted to her brow. ‘Sometimes, parents aren’t happy with the kids they get. Life isn’t always like those cheesy family shows you get on TV. But I suppose you know that,’ she said, glancing over at the body of Maitland, an icy shiver rattling through her. ‘Look, what—’ Ruby stopped and shivered again, her lips squeezing themselves into tiny white lines. ‘What the bloody hell is going on?’ She grabbed her arms around herself more tightly to try and stop shaking.

  The boy dug at a spot in the driveway with the toe of his boot and then cleared his throat. ‘You’re in shock cos you’ve been involved in a supernatural event,’ he said. It sounded to Ruby as if he was trying to sound like an authority on the subject now the man in the baseball hat was dead.

  A sudden rasping sound made Ruby’s heart jump. But it was just the gun shaking off the gravel the boy had covered it with. The revolver spat out a stone that pinged off the frame of Ruby’s bicycle lying nearby.

  ‘Jones, we need to juice the bodies and leave. Now! Before anything else turns up.’

  The boy nodded. ‘The gun’s right,’ he said to Ruby. ‘It’s dangerous staying here any longer. You got lucky,’ he said, lowering the catapult. ‘You can’t have been scratched or bitten, else the moon would’ve done something to you by now if you wasn’t human no more.’

  Ruby blinked and said nothing. There were so many questions filling her head she didn’t know what to ask. And for a girl like Ruby Jenkins that was an entirely new experience.

  When Jones knelt down beside Maitland, it seemed as though the dead grey eyes were staring right at him, as if the man was blaming him for what had happened. Jones whispered that none of it was his fault. But he wasn’t sure he believed it. His hands trembled as he bent forward and whispered that Maitland had been the best Master he could ever have hoped for and that he would always remember him.

  ‘Shouldn’t we call the police?’ asked the girl, making him start. ‘Or the army?’

  Jones shook his head. ‘Ordinary people ain’t supposed to know about any of this. It’s the way things are. What we call our “Ordnung”. The rules we work to.’

  ‘Right. So what the hell’s a Badlander then?’ blurted out the girl.

  The quiet burnt Jones’s ears as he studied her, knowing there had to be lots of questions whizzing round her head. He knew if Maitland had still been alive he’d have used magic to make this girl forget everything she’d seen because secrets were supposed to be kept. But Jones didn’t know how to do such a thing so he was going to have to explain things even though he was more interested in talking about televisions since the girl had mentioned them. He’d seen them, blinking through the curtains of houses at night when he and Maitland had been out hunting creatures. But whenever he’d crept up close to a screen in a person’s home all he’d observed was his own reflection in the black glass.

  He took a deep breath before telling the girl what she wanted to know.

  ‘Badlanders fight creatures ordinary people don’t believe exist. Ones they think are just made out of imagination and locked in the pages of books. Well, they ain’t. They’re flesh and bones and blood too. And the Badlands is where we hunt them.’

  ‘And where’s that exactly?’

  ‘On the edge of ordinary people’s lives most of the time. Like now, at night, when they’re normally fast asleep, or perhaps in the heart of a big forest or a deep valley where they never go. But sometimes the Badlands can be right under people’s noses where they don’t suspect a thing. There’s all sorts of creatures living there,’ said Jones, thinking of how he’d talked to Arkell in his shop as customers came and went. He pointed at the dead Ogre lying beside Maitland. ‘Monsters like that have been around as long as us and there’s always been humans rooting ’em out. Some of ’em became the first Badlanders after the Anglo-Saxons came here from Europe, bringing what they knew about hunting. The earliest monks taught ’em things too when they arrived. Badlanders got trained in monasteries till they set up their own secret order.’

  ‘How old are you?’

  Jones blinked. ‘ ’Roundabout twelve. I don’t know for sure, not like ordinary boys. I ain’t like them,’ he sighed as he reached into the pocket of his overcoat and drew out a small plastic pot and prised off the lid. Taking a pinch of fine brown dust, he sprinkled it over the body of the Ogre that had killed Maitland. White vapour corkscrewed into the air with a hiss as the creature’s body began to dissolve. Moments later, there was nothing left except for white foam, like the curd left by a wave on a beach. Jones kicked through it, sending oily bubbles floating into the air, popping as they rose.

  The small silver key weighed heavily in Jones’s pocket as he went about disposing of the other Ogre’s body.

  It had seemed, in the moments after Maitland had died, he had no choice but to honour his Master’s wishes and go through with his Commencement. It was what Maitland had been preparing him for, for as long as he could rem
ember. And it was the reason Maitland had been so desperate to give him the key after finally seeing Jones make his first kill. It would unlock everything the boy would need to go on learning about being a Badlander and carry on his Master’s legacy.

  But then, as Jones had looked down at the girl pleading for her life, another version of his future had started playing out inside him like a dream. With Maitland gone, he had an opportunity to become what he desperately wanted to be, an ordinary boy. And he knew the girl lying at his feet could help him. His decision to wait and see if she’d turn into an Ogre had already paid off. He hadn’t known about foster families. He was already wondering how he might be able to find one with the girl’s help. Surely, he thought, I’d be first in the queue for a family, seeing as I don’t have no one, now Maitland’s gone.

  Something dark tiptoed down Jones’s ribs, making him shiver, because it was difficult to accept his Master was dead. But there was something else too, nagging at him. Even now, disobeying Maitland and not going through with his Commencement seemed wrong. He kicked through the white foamy remains of what had once been Arkell and then walked over to Maitland.

  The boy prodded Maitland’s body with the toe of a boot.

  Maitland ain’t coming back, thought Jones to himself. No way. Not even with the magic he knows.

  ‘Was he your dad?’ asked the girl gently.

  Jones shook his head. ‘He was my everything. Grew me up from a baby after he found me in a cardboard box on the steps of a church one night.’ Jones bit his lip. ‘I weren’t born a Badlander. No one is. You have to be taught how to be one. Badlanders find apprentices however they can.’

  ‘What’s your name?’

  ‘Jones.’

  ‘I mean your first name.’

  ‘Maitland only gave me one name, so I’d grow up knowing I was different from normal people. Picked it off the first shopfront he saw after he found me. At least I ain’t called Jones the Greengrocer,’ he said, using one of Maitland’s jokes, summoning his best, crooked smile to go with it. But the girl didn’t smile back. Her face looked pale and small in the moonlight. Jones figured she was probably still in shock. Or scared. Or both. He decided he was going to have to work very hard at making friends with her if he was going to learn more about how to become an ordinary boy.

  ‘You look cold,’ he said, taking off his overcoat and draping it round her shoulders, opening up the collar to keep her neck warm.

  ‘Thanks,’ she said.

  Jones watched her wander over to her bicycle, trying to imagine how best to ask her to come with him. His mouth opened. But then it closed. There was something else he needed to do first. Kneeling down, he searched through Maitland’s trouser pockets until he found a bunch of keys, and then stood up. As he held the small plastic pot above Maitland’s body, his hand was trembling. But it was part of the Rules by which they lived, the Ordnung they were bound by, and Jones knew Maitland would have done exactly the same to him.

  As Jones began to tilt the pot of brown dust, he muttered a little rhyme under his breath:

  ‘Do not be afear’d

  It is only the wyrd

  That says you must go

  From this world that you know.

  Do not be afear’d

  It is only the wyrd

  That wants you to leave

  Which means I won’t grieve.

  Do not be afear’d

  It is only the wyrd

  That rules all our lives

  And always decides

  The length of one’s life

  All its joy, all its strife,

  So do not be afear’d

  It is only the wyrd.’

  The dust sparkled as it fell.

  The body began to melt.

  Something was melting inside Jones too.

  And then, for the first time in Jones’s life, Maitland was no longer there to tell him what to do next.

  Ruby hauled up her bicycle. The back wheel was bent out of shape and the whole thing wobbled as she pushed it backwards and forwards. She could ride it, just. But where would she go now? She didn’t want to stay in the cottage after what had happened. But she didn’t want to go home to her foster parents either. Her first few weeks with the Taylors hadn’t gone well and Ruby knew she’d be moved on eventually, just like all the other times. She never seemed to settle with anyone, which was why she’d decided earlier that day that it was up to her to find a life for herself, seeing as no one else could do it for her.

  She watched Jones standing over a line of foam, which was all that was left of Maitland, wondering who this boy was who’d saved her life. She was grateful of course, but what was she supposed to do now? All her excitement at running away suddenly seemed far less thrilling now she knew about the Badlands, that there were dangerous monsters in the world she’d never imagined to be real. And then, in that moment, an idea slipped into her head as though it had fallen from the night sky. What if she became a Badlander like this boy? Learnt how to do magic? She’d be able to leave the old Ruby behind and start a new life as she’d planned, and there’d be no reason to be scared of any monsters then.

  Jones heard a distant howl, which he judged too loud and long to belong to any dog.

  ‘I have to go,’ he said to the girl. ‘It ain’t safe staying here any longer. There’s something about this place that creatures like.’ He clicked the top back onto the plastic pot and measured his next words carefully, unsure how best to go about inviting the girl to come with him. As he stood there, shuffling his feet, trying to work out what to say, the ball of light that Maitland had thrown into the air sputtered and started to dim.

  ‘Look, thanks for saving my life,’ blurted out the girl, ‘and then for not killing me,’ she added. Jones smiled and waited for more. But she seemed to be struggling to know what to say, her mouth opening then closing, then opening again.

  As they stared at one another, the revolver on the driveway tutted and muttered, ‘Jones, you haven’t made any mearcunga yet.’

  ‘I ain’t bothered ’bout making a mark for the Ogres I killed.’

  ‘Why not? They’re your first kills! That makes them important.’

  Before Jones could say anything else, the ball of light above them snuffed itself out and disappeared with a loud pop. Jones steeled himself. Suddenly, it felt easier to say what he wanted to the girl, without the light.

  ‘You can come home with me if you like,’ he said. ‘At least, till you’ve worked out what you’re going to do next.’

  ‘I’d like that,’ said the girl quickly. ‘Really. As long as you’re sure.’

  ‘Yeah. I’m sure.’

  As their eyes adjusted to the moonlight, the two of them discovered they were smiling at each other.

  ‘I’m Ruby, by the way.’

  Jones nodded as he burst an oily bubble with his boot. Maitland was gone for good. ‘We’re finished here,’ he said and held up the bunch of keys. ‘I’ll drive.’

  FOUR

  The electric-green Volkswagen camper van was a T2 model from 1979. Maitland had restored it with great care after buying it from an old Badlander who had left it sitting around for years. Jones had helped his Master, learning as much as he could, oiling, greasing and connecting the guts of what made the vehicle work. The boy knew far more about engines than other children his age. He could remove the spark plugs and clean them. Fit hoses and test their pressure. Maitland had even taught him how to decarbonize the cylinders by releasing them first and then scraping off the carbon from the heads.

  The van’s interior had been customized specifically for their needs. There was a gas stove with four hobs and an oven, a tip-up white laminate table and a large number of cupboards for storage. There was even a sink and a small metal draining board. When the table was folded away, the double seats on either side of it could be pulled out to make a bed for Maitland. Jones slept on a thin mattress laid across the two front seats, usually curled up like a cat after a long day. In the case
of a stake-out or a long hunting trip, the camper van was a home from home.

  Jones loved it because he was allowed to drive. Using magic, Maitland had charmed the windows and windscreen to make it appear he was driving when Jones was at the wheel. The driver’s seat could be levered up enough for the boy to see the road, and the pedals had all been extended too. Whenever Jones was driving, Maitland could rest, work on concocting potions and charms, or plan ahead for the next eventuality whenever they were out on a job. Being able to drive also meant Jones was useful in any emergency.

  It was invaluable now.

  Ruby gripped the edges of her seat and swallowed nervously as Jones turned the key and the engine growled into life. He let off the handbrake, selected first gear without a hitch, and then eased out of the field, where the van had been hidden, into the lane.

  The headlights bored through the dark tunnel in front of them, an effect created by the high hedges on either side. Occasionally the moon bobbed up in the sky then disappeared again. Ruby’s bicycle rattled from time to time as it rested against the table in the main body of the van next to her backpack.

  The boy seemed to know exactly what he was doing as he worked the wheel gently, following the lane’s twists and turns.

  To test how hard he was concentrating, and to put her mind at rest, Ruby drew out a stick of gum from the pack in her pocket. But Jones didn’t look away from the road, not even when she unwrapped it, and pinched it into a ‘w’ before placing it in her mouth, and began to chew noisily. Satisfied he was focused entirely on the job at hand, she leant back in the leather seat. So, here she was in a van at the dead of night, being driven by a boy not only about the same age as her, but one who’d also just saved her from an Ogre. It had been a dangerous one apparently. Jones had informed her on their walk to the van that it had been not only a shapeshifter partial to a bit of moon-bathing, but a Berserker class too. Had someone told her anything like this was going to happen before she’d crept out of her foster parents’ house she would have laughed in their face.