Heather Turner: The boggart

Pam sat cross-legged on the hotel bed, takeaway boxes spread around her. The TV was on, but she just couldn't focus on it. Her mind kept being pulled back to the contents of the files on her lap. Four missing kids. Four. And only a miracle had kept it from becoming five.

She picked up her phone and stared at it, one finger-press away from making a call. Then she put it down. Again. She sighed and reached for another prawn cracker. There was no real evidence of supernatural forces. There was no evidence at all.

She washed down the cracker with a mouthful of cola, then her eyes fell on the files again. Four disappeared, one traumatised. Nothing to go on. Lives at stake. As a detective, could she justify not calling in an expert?

She looked across to the television again. Adverts. She turned back to the bed, and a shiny wrapper caught her attention. A fortune cookie. Worth a try?

She tore the gleaming wrapper open, snapped the cookie in half, pulled out the slip of paper and read it.

In the deep forest
The woodsman spits on his blade
The axe speaks, just once

She frowned. What the hell kind of fortune was that??

She crumpled it and dropped it onto the bed. Then, she lifted the phone, sighed and made the call.

"Heather, it's Pam. I need your help."

---

"You have a visitor."

"Thanks, I'll be right down," Pam told the receptionist, then hung up. 7am. What the hell was Heather doing up this early? Or, more likely, she reflected as she hurriedly pulled some clothes on, what was she doing up this late?

She snatched up her room key, then headed down to the hotel entrance. A familiar figure leaning heavily on the desk caught her eye, and she frowned.

"Jesus, Heather, you look like hell."

Heather turned to face her. What could be seen of her face behind dark glasses was pale and sweaty. Despite this, she was bundled up in a turtleneck jumper, gloves and jeans. In summer. The multitude of shining chains and amulets around her neck did nothing to detract from the overall impression of ill-health.

"You smooth-talker, you," she croaked, flashing a ghastly rictus that couldn't be called a smile.

"You look like you should be at home in bed. Or in hospital. I don't need your death on top of all the other shit that's happening here!"

"I'm fine," Heather rasped, lurching away from the desk. "Just a hangover. Cold. Whatever. You need me here. Let's get on with it."

Pam stared at her for a long moment before giving in. Heather was usually reluctant to get involved with the nasty stuff. If she said she needed to be there, it was worryingly likely she was right.

---

"Four dead kids," Heather shook her head. "How did it take this long to get me involved, Pam?"

"Four missing kids," Pam corrected her. "And no evidence of.. well, anything at all. They went to sleep in their own beds at night, and weren't there in the morning. No signs of a struggle or break-in.. And some of these places have security that makes the average bank look lax."

"The parents reported the kids were clingy and quiet for several days beforehand."

"Well, yes.. but that's hardly weird after the first went missing. They all go to the same school," Pam pointed out.

"Same school. Same estate. It's its own little upper-class world, isn't it? Barely interacts with the surrounding town."

"..is this relevant, or just one of your rants?" Pam asked with forced patience.

"Haven't got the energy for a rant," Heather slumped back in the armchair. "But before the land was levelled for this estate, there'd been forests here since Stonehenge was new. Bet you anything it had a whole bunch of legends amongst the locals."

"You think it's a local spirit all riled up by the new houses?"

"Could be. Or maybe just a big angry squirrel."

"Great, I'll put out a wanted poster for Nutkin," Pam rolled her eyes. "What about the fifth kid? Janet? What kind of bogeyman could leave injuries like that?"

"Poor kid looks like she got attacked with a chisel," Heather said, staring at the photograph of the child's neck. "She hasn't spoken since?"

"Not a word," Pam shook her head.

Heather sighed. "We're gonna have to start at her house."

"Must we?" Pam looked dubious. "Paranormal investigators cause concern at the best of times, and you don't exactly look fit to be around people right now."

"We've not got long before the next kid dies," Heather said flatly as she staggered to her feet. "You want to hang around here waiting for me to look good?"

Pam made a face. "I suppose there's no chance of me taking a shower first?"

Heather grinned. "Only if I get to watch."

Pam picked up her handbag. "Let's go."

---

"I have to ask, Stacey.. Had she been acting strange beforehand?" Heather asked, wiping her sweaty forehead with the back of a gloved hand.

"No," Janet's mother shook her head. "Totally normal. She wasn't in the same class as the.. the other children.. so she hadn't really registered.. anything.."

"So you let her go out in the woods with your dog, and when she came back.."

Stacey's body shook, arms tightening around herself. "There was blood all over her clothes. Her jugular.. It almost.. It was some kind of miracle she got away from.. from whatever..."

"And she hasn't spoken since?"

Another headshake. "She just wants to be held, constantly. If my husband weren't here, there's no way you'd have been able to talk to me alone."

Heather nodded. "I know how hard this must be. For all of you. But I do need to have a word."

Stacey hesitated. "We don't want her troubled any more than.. than..."

"I know," Heather nodded, reaching out to put her hand on Stacey's. "But whatever attacked Janet isn't likely to just give up."

Stacey stared at her, horrified. "You think it might come back..?"

"There is a risk you'll find her bedroom empty one morning," Heather admitted. "Like the others."

"Oh god," Stacey whispered, her face white.

"I don't need to ask much," Heather assured her. "Nothing that should disturb her."

"I.. I can't promise.. she hasn't said a word since..." Stacey stammered.

"That's fine, I can work around that."

"All right," Stacey licked her lips. "If.. if it'll help you stop.."

Heather nodded and squeezed her hand. "Thank you."

Stacey stood, and, a little wobbly, Heather followed suit. "Pam, bring my bag wouldja?" she called as Stacey lead her out of the room.

Pam, who'd been stood silent in the corner, threw her a dark look, but picked up the black holdall Heather had brought in from the car. She heaved it onto a shoulder, then hurried to catch up.

She reached the playroom doorway in time to see Heather go over to Janet. A pale, skinny girl with blonde hair that was almost white, she looked like she might blow away in a stiff breeze.

Until you saw the dressings on her neck. Something had clearly tried to hurt the girl badly. That it had failed showed there was more steel in that delicate body than was evident.

Janet was sat on her father's lap as she played with a pile of Lego. She didn't look up as Heather joined them, despite the noisy rattle of the chains around her neck.

"Hey," Heather said quietly. "Is it okay if I join you?"

Janet nodded, still without looking up.

"Thanks. I'm Heather. I've been asked to stop the thing that's been attacking kids."

That did get Janet's attention, and she looked up at Heather's face briefly. Then her attention moved downwards.

Heather followed her gaze. "These? Charms. They help keep me safe." She sighed. "Maybe something you feel like you could have used, eh?"

Janet nodded silently.

Heather reached up with gloved hands and lifted one necklace over her head. "Here," she offered, holding it out. It looked like a woven collection of brightly-coloured strings, exactly the sort of thing that would catch a child's eye. "This has kept me safe a time or two before, I can tell you."

Janet gave a brief, tiny smile, and took it. It went easily over her head and she wrapped her fingers around it, holding it tightly like the most precious thing in the world.

Heather hesitated, then inhaled deeply. "If I'm going to stop this thing, I need to know where to look. Can you help with that?"

Pam held her breath. Janet continued gazing at the necklace for a long moment, then nodded. She stood and held out a hand. Heather took it, and Janet pulled her to the window.

Pam followed silently, and Janet pointed out at the woods visible behind the rear garden.

"You'll take us there?" Pam asked quietly, but Janet shook her head and moved closer to Heather.

"Just me?" Heather asked. A nod. "That might be for the best, actually."

Pam looked from Heather to Janet and back again. "That's gonna be a hard sell for the parents."

"You'll just have to sell it," Heather told her, quiet but firm. "We have to know where to look."

"I'll try," she said dubiously.

"Go get your boots on," Heather told Jane, who nodded again. She collected Stacey and lead her out of the room. Pam felt a flood of pity for a child who couldn't bear to be alone.

The moment they were gone, Heather swayed and grabbed hold of Pam for support.

"You okay?" Pam asked with concern, holding her firmly. Heather looked on the verge of throwing up.

"God, I feel sick," Heather muttered, breathing deeply. "Let's get this over with."

Pam nodded. "I'll talk to them."

"It would be best if they get away from the area for a bit. Have them pack while we're out," Heather told her. "And this is important: Have them pack everybody's things separately. His stuff in one bag; hers in another; Janet's in another."

Pam looked at her, bewildered. "Why?"

"Trust me, it's important," she insisted.

Wearing a hoodie and boots, Janet returned. She released Stacey's hand and took Heather's once again. Pam felt Heather start to tremble. Just how ill is she? she wondered, anxious and unsure.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" She asked in a whisper.

"It needs doing," Heather told her, adding with a meaningful look over the top of her dark glasses, "I've got my phone."

Pam nodded and let her pull away. She had an altogether bad feeling about all this.

---

The back garden had a gate that lead into the woods. It was pretty in there, full of big old trees letting dappled sunlight through to the ground, which was alive with brambles, ferns, ivy, and stunted saplings.

Heather tucked her phone away as the tugging at her hand lead her along a wide path. Then they turned off onto a much narrower little trail, overgrown and hard to see. The little blonde head bobbed confidently along, though, and Heather grimly followed. She had all too good an idea what they were heading for.

As expected, they stopped a few meters above a pool of water at the base of a little steep-sided valley. Thick with weeds and dark with tannins, it looked stagnant and unpleasant, and the mud around it was thick and oily. She looked down at the figure that had guided her to it.

"Is this it?" she asked quietly. The blonde head nodded, and then gave her a gentle push towards the water. "You stay here," she said quietly.

Another nod, and Heather started down to the pool. There was one patch of disturbed mud by its edge, which she made her way over to. The still water reflected the sky above it too well to make out anything in the water itself. She dropped into a squat and leaned forward to look.

In the shadow of her own reflection, she saw a pale face. It stared up at her, dead eyes wide and unblinking, set in a face surrounded by the palest blonde hair. The horribly familiar deep gouges in the little girl's neck were clearly visible through the murk.

Inhaling sharply, Heather threw herself backwards, trying to turn, but the mud betrayed her and her foot slipped. She dropped a gloved hand to steady herself, and looked up. She barely had time to see a massive gaping mouth flying at her before its long green teeth struck her neck.

---

"C'mon, update!" Pam glared furiously at her phone screen. It had buzzed moments after Heather left, informing her location sharing had been turned on. According to the map, she was standing right where Heather should be. But there was nothing. Nothing but trees and birds.

Then an agonized scream made her blood run cold. She burst into a run, crashing along a barely-existing path until she almost fell down a sudden steep slope.

At the bottom, next to a swampy-looking pool of water, Heather was on top of a hideous-looking creature, one knee firm against its upper back, her gloved hands pulling hard on a cord wrapped around the thing's neck. She looked up as Pam came into sight, and gave her a tight smile.

"Good timing! Here's the little bastard!"

"..what the fuck is it?" Pam asked as she skidded down the slope to join her. "It looks like the bastard offspring of a plague-carrying rat and a week-dead fish."

It was a hideous thing to be sure - long spindly limbs, with webbed digits at the ends; a slimy grey skin that didn't belong on anything that lived under the sun; and a narrow, pointed, rat-like face, with big rodent teeth jutting out at the front. Its mouth was blistered and red, and its eyes bulged as it fought to breathe. It was choking and whimpering in a way that sounded distressingly like it was trying to form words.

"Boggart," Heather told her shortly. "Disgusting little buggers. Shut it, you little fucker!" She yanked hard, choking it into silence.

"What luck you were wearing gloves," Pam observed with a sudden cynical realisation.

Heather grinned viciously. "And my lucky vest." She lifted her head to show the shredded neck of her jumper. Chain mail gleamed beneath it. "Cold hard iron. Kryptonite to these little shits."

Pam nodded. "And the.. garrote? It looks like.."

"Kevlar-reinforced paracord. Available in a wide range of colours, and does not break," Heather told her, yanking it for emphasis.

Pam stared down at the boggart. "How did this horrible thing get into those houses? And drag out kids without leaving a trace or making a sound?"

"It didn't," Heather told her, face grim. "The kids were never there. Look in the pool."

Pam stared at her for a moment, then went to look in the water. She leaned over to see through the murk, then recoiled. "Shit! Oh god, Janet.." She looked up at Heather with tears in her eyes. "How..?"

"Janet's been dead two days," Heather said curtly. "This little fucker's a shape-shifter. It killed the kids, then stored them in its pool so it could take their shape. Then it went running to their home."

"What?" Pam stared at her, stunned. "Why??"

"Because it's the only way the filthy things ever get to receive a bit of affection. Kill the kids, play-act as them for a bit, then sneak away when the bodies start to rot."

Pam stared at the hideous creature, even more revolted by it now. "That's sick," she said, fighting back the bile rising in her throat.

"They are," Heather nodded. "It drowned the first four, but Janet put up more of a struggle. It had to bite her before it dragged her in. Kid had some fire in her." She twisted the colourful cords tighter again, her face furious. "Just not enough."

"So it wasn't Janet at the house.. or that lead you here.."

"No. Just this little bastard pretending. And once we got here, it went for my neck. Too bad for it. I grabbed it by the noose I gave it, and here we are."

Pam looked at it and shuddered. "So what now?"

"Now? It's the spirit of the pool, it'll exist as long as it does," Heather told her, nodding at the water. "Dump a few tons of gravel in, should deal with that. After you've fished the bodies out."

"Nooo!" The thing managed to gurgle. Heather pulled harder, driving her knee against it and it choked into silence again.

Pam nodded. "That won't be a hard sell. Not after five kids died in it. That'll kill it?"

"No, just stop it coming back again," Heather corrected her. "We kill it with what's in my bag."

Pam looked down at the black holdall she'd forgotten she was carrying. Frowning, she unzipped it and rummaged around. Clothes, wooden stakes, a few bags and small boxes.. and at the bottom, an axe. Its cold iron blade gleamed.

"Jesus, Heather," Pam said, feeling doubtful in spite of everything.

"If you've any reservations," Heather advised her, "just remember it's this fucker's fault you're gonna have to tell Stacey that the daughter she thinks came with us has been dead for two days."

That did it. Pam felt the anger rise, bringing hate and disgust and revulsion with it, washing away any mercy. She lifted the axe. Heather nodded and leaned back, pulling the bright-coloured paracord tight one last time around the spindly neck.

The axe spoke, just once.