Face of a Traitor

2

2

Thirteen years later.

Manic screams erupted from the kitchen, quickly followed by a young boy.

Toby knew seconds before his feet reached the soft rug on the polished checkerboard tiles that he was moving too fast to survive the corner. Hitting the hallway at a sprint, he sunk his heels into the wool and threw out his arms. There was nothing to stop his momentum.

‘Whoa!’ he shouted, sailing past the foot of the stairs and crashing into a crumpled heap near the front door.

‘Quick!’ shouted his younger brother Charlie, tailing behind him. ‘Grab my hand.’ His eyes were full of blind panic, his chest rising and falling after their chaotic sprint across the garden. Toby accepted his brother’s hand and leapt to his feet, nursing an emerging lump on his head. Together, they grabbed onto the solid, cherry-wood bannister and took the stairs three at a time.

‘They’re coming!’ cried Charlie as they crested the stairs. Over the past few months, his fair hair had darkened, more closely matching the nutty brown sported by his parents and siblings. His usually pallid cheeks now flushed red, as they always did when he ran. ‘I never realised they could move so fast. They’re like ghosts, everywhere at once!’

Screeches echoed from the hallway below them. Toby’s face turned grave. ‘They’re already in the house.’

As if on cue, the brothers bolted for the first available exit. It was a spare bedroom, a place used by the Thorntons’ art-collector friends who sometimes came to stay during conventions in London. They hadn’t had a guest for months, so the room smelled dusty. Luckily, there were still loads of places to hide. With a four-poster bed, a heavy antique wardrobe, and other pieces of furniture imported from all over the world, every room in their luxury Chelsea townhouse offered cubbyholes in which to hide. Art and antique dealing was big business, and the Thorntons had entered the market at the right time.

Toby glanced at the wardrobe and flashed a worried glance at Charlie.

‘There’s not enough room for both of us.’

‘I know.’

‘We’ll have to split up.’ Toby had one foot in the wardrobe before he had finished the sentence. He didn’t want to leave his brother out in the open but, if he didn’t act fast, they’d both be discovered. Charlie would just have to find somewhere else.

But before he could even shut the doors, warm fingers wrapped around his forearm and dragged him into the open. Startled, he hit the floor shoulder-first, spilling a waterfall of old blankets with him.

‘Sorry, mate,’ yelped Charlie, stepping over him. ‘It’s dog-eat-dog in this house.’

Toby growled and lashed out but missed his brother’s ankle. Wide-eyed, he turned towards the open door. Did he have time to make it onto the landing and find another room? Unlikely. Judging by the scampering footsteps downstairs, the little beasts had followed them. They were louder than ever, yipping and squawking. Soon, they would realise he and Charlie had gone upstairs.

Thinking fast, he bundled up the blankets that had fallen on top of him and scurried under the bed. Unfolding them, he covered his body. Nearby, an Indian trunk his father had bought at an auction nestled at the foot of the bed. He pulled it closer, blocking him from sight from the stairs as a double-headed shadow sprawled across the banister.

If I can’t see them, they can’t see me, he reasoned.

In the minute or so it took his pursuers to explore the other bedrooms, Toby reined in his breathing. He was belly-down on the dusty floorboards, his nose so close to the film of dust that covered everything he had to hold his breath not to snort any in by mistake. Looking right, he glared at the wardrobe doors, burning a vengeful hole in the varnish.

I can’t believe he took my spot!

The predators still hadn’t arrived. Had they lost interest? It wasn’t impossible. There were many times over the past few months he had been cornered, sure he wouldn’t survive. Then, just when they were about to uncover him, something had called them away. He had escaped by a whisker.

He had ventured downstairs to discover the kitchen cupboards ransacked and the back door to the garden practically hanging off its hinges, but that was a small price to pay for survival. He would gladly lie to his parents and take the blame. It was better than the truth. They would only worry.

‘Psst.’

Toby frowned and waited, his ear pressed against the floor.

‘Psssst!’

There was a clunk and the wardrobe door opened ajar. A single eye appeared in the slit between the doors.

‘They gone?’ Charlie whispered.

‘Shhhh!’

‘Toby, are they gone?’

Feet scurried in the next room.

‘Toby!’

‘Shut up!’ he snarled, refusing to move his head.

There was the briefest silence then Charlie spoke again. ‘Toby! Are they gone?’

‘Ugh! Charlie, shut your mouth. They’re going to find us.’

A dead weight landed on the mattress above Toby. Stopping short, he shut his eyes and winced. In an effort to be silent, he lay in the stuffy air, listening to his own shallow breaths. Maybe they didn’t hear, he lied to himself.

Dashing his hope, a cunning, singsong voice chirped, ‘Toby, we know you’re in heeeeere! We were listening to you. Come out, come out, wherever you aaaaare.’

The slats on the bed creaked gently under the strain of the body on top of it. Toby barely had an inch of free space. Not enough to wriggle free if he needed to escape.

‘Are you in the wardrobe?’ asked the voice with a sinister, joyful quality.

‘No, don’t be silly,’ said another. ‘Course he isn’t. He’s too big! There are blankets in there.’

‘Oh yes! You’re right. But if he isn’t in the wardrobe, where could he be?’

The bed creaked and a body dropped to the floor. He gasped as a pair of beastly feet came into view. There were two of them, sturdy, with thick toes and a grey fleece of wiry fur. Hooked talons curved out of the fronds. A shadow across the wardrobe doors revealed the creature’s twisted mane and tiny, fidgeting arms. It shrieked again, causing Toby to shudder.

Why did I reply? he scolded himself. I should have just let them take Charlie and returned later to save him.

The animal’s paws loped around the room. They searched behind large paintings propped against the wall and in crevices behind the wardrobe and a chest of drawers. From where he lay, Toby could see that their movements had become less certain as the morbid game of cat and mouse continued. When he noticed one creature’s feet swivel towards the door, he exhaled.

‘Must have heard wrong,’ said the singsong voice.

A grin rose on Toby’s lips. He shifted slightly to alleviate a stiff leg. Then a firm hand grasped his calf and fear sizzled through him.

‘Oh, there you are!’ said the second voice, terrifyingly shrill. ‘I’ve found yooooooooou!’