Banshee in the Well by Robin Lovejoy

Author:Robin Lovejoy [Lovejoy, Robin]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Sting Publications
Published: 2011-12-31T22:00:00+00:00

By now Sathra was making her way along the track to the Thirteen Dancers. She heard voices from behind and dashed across to hide in the gap between an elder bush and the drystone wall. She peered out through the leaves as two young people appeared in the distance. As they came closer she could see they were both about her age, a dark-haired boy and a blonde girl. They didn’t see her as they walked past, and she stayed in her hiding place to listen to their conversation.

“No I’m sure they’ll be coming, Simon,” the girl was saying. “Dad overheard the whole thing in the pub last night. There was a man in the bar, and he does odd jobs at Jago’s Lodge. He saw the band there yesterday.”

“And they’re definitely going to be at the Thirteen Dancers today?” said the boy. “Great! But it’s a pity Dad doesn’t like Karmic Surprise. Trust him to lock our bikes in the shed!”

“Yes, it’s been a long walk from the village,” the girl said. “But we’re nearly at the stone circle now. Dad’ll go ballistic if he finds out we’ve sneaked here!”

Sathra slipped out from behind the bush and ran to meet them. The boy and girl heard her, stopped walking then spun around.

“Who are you?” snapped the boy. “Where did you come from?”

He had strange circles of glass, in silver-coloured frames around his eyes. Sathra pointed.

“What are those?”

The boy made a face. “You must’ve seen glasses before. What a thicko!”

Sathra smiled, and tapped herself on the chest. “It’s my birthday today. I’m twelve!”

“Big deal,” said the boy with a sneer.

“We’re exactly twelve and three months,” the girl added. “Both of us.”

“Why are you the same age?” Sathra asked.

“Because we’re twins, Einstein,” the boy replied. “Now why don’t you go off and haunt somebody else?”

Sathra frowned. “What’s Einstein?”

The boy rolled his eyes.

“Don’t be rotten, Simon,” said the girl with an apologetic smile. “He doesn’t mean it. What’s your name?”

“Sathra.”

“That’s a funny name. Well I’m Gwenver, and my brother’s Simon. Happy birthday. What are you doing out here on your own?”

Sathra ignored the question. “I heard what you were saying, just before you saw me. You’re going to the Thirteen Dancers, to meet somebody.”

Simon and Gwenver exchanged furtive glances.

“This weirdo’s been spying on us,” Simon remarked.

“But maybe we could tell her,” said Gwenver.

Simon shook his head. “You’re joking. This dimwit could spoil everything.”

A surge of anger coursed through Sathra’s veins. She’d already taken a disliking to this boy. Then again, his sister had blurted out their ages. Simon was twelve. Perfect. Sacrificing him would be a real pleasure.

“Are you tourists?”

“No, we’re from Wendleford Bridge,” Gwenver replied. “A little village a couple of miles away. We’re not supposed to be here. Our dad didn’t want us to come.”

“So long, Saffy, or whatever your name is,” said Simon.

He turned and strode away along the track. Gwenver followed, but Sathra soon caught up with them.

“Can I come with you?”

Simon scowled. “No chance.”

“Well I’m going to tell her,” said Gwenver.

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