Hollow Pike by James Dawson

Author:James Dawson [Dawson, James]
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781780621265
Publisher: Hachette Children's
Published: 2012-02-01T23:00:00+00:00

The Watcher

That evening, Lis found herself alone in the lounge. Shattered parents, Sarah and Max had retired to bed early, leaving Lis alone in front of the widescreen TV. She aimlessly channel-hopped, trying to avoid news coverage of the ongoing investigation into Laura’s murder. According to today’s bulletin, the internet was to blame.

Lis had soaked in the bathtub for over an hour, but she was sure the odour of Mrs Gillespie’s flat still lingered on her skin. She felt dirty, and it wasn’t just the flat. Facts and fiction were starting to blur. Fact: Laura was dead; someone had nicked a book from Mrs Gillespie; Lis had had a few bad dreams. Fiction: there were once witches in Hollow Pike; Laura’s murder was connected to the witchcraft; Lis’s dreams were a message from the great beyond. She needed to ditch the fiction, it was threatening to drive her as mad as Mrs Gillespie.

Lis swung her legs off the leather sofa and wandered to the sliding doors that led onto the front balcony. The chill night air was biting, but she embraced it, hoping it would help clear her head. Frustration crackled through her body.

When did everything get so confusing? Just a few short years ago, Lis’s life had been nothing more than ballet lessons and prize guinea pigs at the Bangor fair. Hollow Pike was supposed to be her fresh start, and although she had met some of the coolest people in town, she’d never felt this sort of fear before. Every time she closed her eyes she saw that silver hand on the tree in the copse.

Everything that had happened in Bangor, the daily feeling of dread she’d experienced on her way to school, it all suddenly seemed lightweight and inconsequential. It was just regular high school bullying: teasing, name-calling, people spitting at her. She almost longed to return. Sure, she hated everyone at school, but at least there she could pretend that none of this had happened. No one in Wales had been murdered.

A flicker of movement far below on the street drew her attention. A figure ducked down the gravelled alleyway on the opposite side of the road. It was a private, narrow lane that led to the old cottage where the neighbours lived.

The silhouette seemed to pause, looking up at the balcony. Lis waved jovially, guessing it was just Mr Carruthers, the old man from the cottage, putting the recycling out or something. But the shape didn’t wave back. Instead it lingered in the shadows away from the street lights, motionless, watching.

Lis leaned over the rail, squinting to get a better look. The observer was so shrouded in darkness, it was impossible to even determine whether it was a man or a woman. Whoever it was stood mannequin-still, head slightly tipped to one side, as if they were sizing her up. Watching her. Watching her like the figure in the copse.

Something brushed against her skin and she shrieked, turning to find that Sasha had squeezed out through the gap she’d left in the door.

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