Demon Storm by Justin Richards Page B

howled. It was a noise filled with anger and despair, loathing and hatred. Her fingers stretched out like talons as she hurled herself at Ben and the others.
    ‘Time you were going,’ Growl said, stepping in front of the shrieking woman.
    ‘Are you sure …’ Ben started. Despite his fear, he didn’t like the idea of leaving the kindly old man with this creature.
    Growl turned and his transformation was every bit as extreme as the woman’s. His face was twisted in anger. ‘Just go!’ he roared. ‘Leave us!’
    ‘Us?’
    Gemma grabbed Ben’s arm. ‘Leave him,’ she said. ‘He can manage.’
    Ben stumbled after Gemma, with Knight following close behind. He glanced back and through the mist he saw the Reverend Alistair Growl raise his hand, like a monk giving a blessing.He could see the old man’s lips moving, though he couldn’t hear what he was saying. The air was filled with the cries and screams of the ghostly woman as she twisted and writhed and clawed the air.
    The air seemed to explode, exactly where the woman had been. The mist closed round the figure of Growl and then there was silence.
    *
    They waited for about ten minutes by the car before Growl joined them. His cloak was caked in mud and he looked exhausted.
    ‘Well,’ he said, ‘I think that’s all sorted out now.’ He beamed at Ben, as if his earlier angry outburst had never happened. ‘You’d best go and check,’ he said to Gemma. ‘Just to be on the safe side. Your sensitivities are so much better tuned than mine.’
    ‘Go with her, Ben,’ Knight said. He helped Growl to the car, opening the door so the old man could sit inside.
    Ben followed Gemma back into the graveyard. ‘Has she gone?’
    ‘Oh yes,’ Gemma said. She too seemed to be back to her normal, carefree self. ‘Growl just wants a minute alone with Mr Knight.’
    ‘Why?’
    Gemma grinned. ‘Probably to talk about you.’
    ‘Oh, thanks … Really?’
    ‘I don’t know, do I? But Mr Knight wanted to talk to Growl.’
    ‘So what was wrong with him?’ Ben asked. ‘Why did he get so angry?’
    ‘You didn’t do as he asked.’ She was serious again now as she turned to look at him. ‘You mustn’t upset the Reverend when he’s working.’ More than serious, she sounded scared. ‘Never upset him. Not ever.’
    Seeing Ben’s worried expression, Gemma’s own softened. She took his hand. ‘You’ve got loads to learn. It’l be such fun. I’m glad you’re here. Come on.’
    She led him back through the misty graveyard, forever looking from side to side. Ben could sense that she was seeing the spirits of the dead at every step. He could see nothing himself, nothing out of the ordinary. But he shuddered at the sight of the glistening tombstones sweating in the mist. Fun was not the word he would have chosen.

12
    I N THE MIDDLE OF THE NIGHT, BEN WOKE WITH the horrifying face of the screaming woman imprinted on his dreams. The duvet had slipped off the bed and he lay for a while shivering and listening to the moaning of the wind outside. The windows rattled and rain scattered across them.
    He pulled the duvet back on to the bed and snuggled underneath it. Knight had told Ben that tomorrow he would start his education. Mrs Bailey would set him English and maths and ‘ordinary’ schoolwork. But alongside that, he would have other lessons and lectures. Ben was conscious that his life had changed. He hoped it would be for the better.
    He hoped it would help him discover what had happened to Sam.
    But how much would Knight help – how much could he help? Tired and confused, Ben drifted back into sleep.
    *
    In the event, Knight had already left by the time Ben joined the other children for breakfast the following morning. Over the next few days, Knight was hardly at the house. Sometimes Gemma went with him and once he took Maria as well. But usually he went on his own.
    ‘He’s a busy man,’ Mrs Bailey told Ben. ‘You were lucky he was here when you arrived. More