Secret of the Shadow Beasts Read online

  Dial Books for Young Readers

  An imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, New York

  First published in the United States of America by Dial Books for Young Readers,

  an imprint of Penguin Random House LLC, 2022

  Text copyright © 2022 by Diane Magras

  Map copyright © 2022 by Travis Hasenour

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  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data is available.

  Ebook ISBN 9780735229334

  Cover art © 2022 by Vivienne To

  Cover design by Danielle Ceccolini

  Design by Sylvia Bi, adapted for ebook by Michelle Quintero

  This book is a work of fiction. Any references to historical events, real people, or real places are used fictitiously. Other names, characters, places, and events are products of the author’s imagination, and any resemblance to actual events or places or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for author or third-party websites or their content.

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  To Benjamin and Michael

  CONTENTS

  CHAPTER 1: GLOAMING

  CHAPTER 2: SHADOW BEASTS

  CHAPTER 3: NORA’S CHOICE

  CHAPTER 4: THE CALL

  CHAPTER 5: SATURDAY

  CHAPTER 6: DEENA’S GOODBYE

  CHAPTER 7: NOYE’S HILL

  CHAPTER 8: LEGENDARIES

  CHAPTER 9: THE TEST

  CHAPTER 10: THE SIMULATION ROOM

  CHAPTER 11: URSULA’S CHOICE

  WARRIORS OF THE FROZEN BOG (CHAT)

  CHAPTER 12: THE TROUBLE WITH RUNNING

  CHAPTER 13: BREATHE

  CHAPTER 14: THE ARMORY

  WARRIORS OF THE FROZEN BOG (CHAT)

  CHAPTER 15: THE COMING DUTY

  CHAPTER 16: THE CASTLE IN THE SKY

  CHAPTER 17: DEPARTURE

  CHAPTER 18: BEFORE THE BATTLE

  CHAPTER 19: THE UMBRAE

  CHAPTER 20: NATURAL TALENT

  CHAPTER 21: RAVINSCRAG

  CHAPTER 22: A DREAM DESTROYED

  CHAPTER 23: THE BOOKSHOP

  CHAPTER 24: NORA’S BOOK

  CHAPTER 25: MORE BAIT

  CHAPTER 26: ANOTHER BITE

  CHAPTER 27: THE FINAL DAYS

  CHAPTER 28: COMING HOME

  CHAPTER 29: THE NIGHTMARE PAGE

  CHAPTER 30: THE SECRET OF OWEN KEMP

  CHAPTER 31: NORA’S SECRET

  CHAPTER 32: JENNY TSUKADA

  WARRIORS OF THE FROZEN BOG (CHAT)

  CHAPTER 33: THE ORDER OF THE OAK

  CHAPTER 34: A NEW DUTY

  WARRIORS OF THE FROZEN BOG (CHAT)

  CHAPTER 35: UNEXPECTED COMPANY

  CHAPTER 36: THE BATTLE OF THE POST

  CHAPTER 37: ALONE

  CHAPTER 38: A WEE BIT

  CHAPTER 39: BUFFLETON MINES

  CHAPTER 40: THE PATH

  CHAPTER 41: WHAT WAITS BELOW

  CHAPTER 42: THE ROOT

  CHAPTER 43: DESTRUCTION

  CHAPTER 44: SURVIVAL

  CHAPTER 45: THE TROUBLE WITH CLIMBING

  CHAPTER 46: URSULA’S SECRET

  CHAPTER 47: MACASKILL’S BOOK

  EPILOGUE

  GLOAMING

  When the light is gone, the dark things come:

  creeping from shadows, their cruel minds afire.

  When the light is gone, tell your dad and your mum

  that it’s safest inside ’til the sun grows higher . . .

  —excerpt, traditional Brannland nursery rhyme

  A dark woolly shape flashed by the window.

  “Jacky?” Nora looked up from the table. The sun was a sliver behind the trees, its light almost gone. It’s not gloaming yet . . . I think.

  She dropped her pencil. All she wanted was to finish her homework before the weekend started and eat a roasted potato dripping with butter by the warmth of the fire. But if Jacky the sheep was out that close to the gloaming, there’d be no dinner until she was in.

  Nora crept to the kitchen. Her mother, Deena Kemp, was washing dish towels in the sink.

  “Mum?” Nora cleared her throat. “I think Jacky’s out.”

  “How’d she get out of the barn?” Deena swept a strand of gray-blonde hair from her tired face. “Didn’t you bother to close the door?”

  Nora nodded—though in truth, as she’d done her outdoor chores, she’d been planning a detailed takedown of bog mobs in Warriors of the Frozen Bog, the video game she played with her friend Wilfred. She remembered crushing an army of undead with her own undead, but not if she’d actually shoved shut that crooked door. “I think I did.”

  Her mouth tight, Deena marched into the big room to the window.

  “Jacky’s gone clever, then, and figured out the barn door.”

  Nora’s face burned. “Shall I fetch her?”

  “And be out alone so close to the gloaming?” Deena grabbed her farm coat from its peg. “We can fetch her quick together.”

  Nora slipped on her father’s heavy boots and scampered gratefully after.

  Ever since Nora’s father had died, Deena had changed: sometimes vulnerable, often strong, but never angry the way she used to be. The Deena from three years ago would have shouted at Nora for not closing the barn door—and Owen Kemp would have gently taken her hands and murmured her into stillness. It was as if the old Deena had died with Owen and the new Deena carried his warmth. Nora saw that in the look Deena shot over her shoulder.

  “You’ve run out like a scarecrow without your coat.”

  A gust of wind tore over the field, blowing snow from the fence posts. Nora hurried after her mother down the snow-covered grass to the rickety stile—the steps on either side of the sheep fence—and climbed over. Ice flecked her cheeks. The bitter cold cut into her fuzzy blue sweater.

  In the distance, a little brown sheep with stubby horns watched them from beside the river—a whole field away.

  “Jacky!” Deena hadn’t fastened her coat and the sides flapped as she sprinted. “Look at that: Risking her life for a drink of fresh water. I’d have that sheep’s head on a platter if she weren’t our only sheep. I still might.”

  Nora stumbled after. The sun had sunk beyond the trees. The cold was more intense and the woods menacing, shielding what hid in the dark.

  “Mum? I think it’s just about gloaming.”

  Gloaming: the line between day and night, safety and terror. Everyone knew of the unseen beasts that lurked outside between gloaming and dawn. Everyone heard them scratching at doors and windows, kept off only by the special iron on the thresholds. Whenever Nora heard them, she’d burrow deep into the warmth of Deena’s arms in the bed they’d shared since Owen Kemp had died.

  Dad was going out to mend the fence at the gloaming when a beast got him. The thought snapped into Nora’s mind like a wet cloth.
She’d never seen a shadow beast—no one she knew had—but everyone knew what they could do: kill with one bite. We shouldn’t be outside now. This is really bad.

  “Mum?”

  Deena was ahead, crunching over the snow.

  “Mum, it’s gloaming! We need to go in.”

  “I know, but we have a minute. And look: Jacky’s coming.” Deena held out her hand. “Here, sweet.”

  The ewe stared at them—then broke into a gallop toward the river.

  “You piece of mutton! You want to be eaten by the beasts?” Deena chased a few feet, but stopped, breathing hard. “Our last sheep.”

  Nora slipped her hand in her mother’s. “Please, Mum. I’m scared out here.”

  Deena’s hand tightened.

  Together, they jogged up toward the little farmhouse. It waited at the top of the hill, lit by the oil lamp in the window. That shack was home: safe and warm. And the potatoes in the pot on the fire would be roasted and the house would be full of their smell.

  “You first.” Deena pointed at the stile.

  Nora climbed the two wobbly steps. “I’m sorry for leaving the barn open.”

  “We all make mistakes.” The second step creaked as Deena followed. “And it’s not your fault that Jacky’s being a pain. She’s lonely—”

  A rattle from behind the house broke into her words.

  A clatter. A rustle. A sound like a huge bundle of sticks rolling down a hill.

  No, not rolling, Nora thought. Crawling—fast.

  It was a wrong sound. A bad sound. A horrible, familiar sound she’d heard many times on the other side of the window at night.

  Then Nora saw it, lit by the windows, stark against the snow between her and Deena and the house: a huge, hairy, sand-brown spider—big as a hay bale—with blood-red mandibles and six gleaming black eyes.

  SHADOW BEASTS

  Aranea Umbrae:

  Habitat: meadows, fields, gardens, beaches

  Appearance: spiderlike, covered with fine hairs

  Size: 3.5 feet (round)

  Venom: bite (primary), saliva and hairs

  —Bulletin, National Council for the Research and Destruction of the Umbrae

  “Run,” Deena breathed. She scrambled back over the stile, into the field again.

  Nora launched after her mother.

  The snow-covered grass stretched ahead, gray in the darkness, the river now black.

  Clattering—against the wood, over the fence—

  Nora grabbed Deena’s arm and dodged.

  The clattering rushed past them. The beast flew down the hill in a shower of snow—then slid to a halt and pivoted.

  Nora tugged her mother back toward the fence.

  “What are you supposed to do if you get caught outside after gloaming?” Deena panted. “Do you remember?”

  “You’re supposed to be inside at the gloaming, Mum! If a beast bites you, you’ll die! I won’t because I’m immune, right, but you—”

  A rush of snow, and a second giant spider clattered between them and the fence. It paused.

  Nora dodged the second beast’s lunge, hauling her mother with her. They were almost at the stile.

  “Go first, Mum!”

  A hard claw closed on Nora’s ankle—and tore her back.

  Just as Deena clambered over the fence.

  Just as the second spider crawled after her.

  Blood-red mandibles flashed before Nora’s eyes, then a ring of shiny, sharp teeth. She dove to one side, then the next, and wriggled free. The claw seized her boot.

  Nora pulled her foot out and stumbled to her feet. In one boot and her sock, she ran—just as the second beast seized Deena’s foot and jerked it out from under her.

  “Mum!” Nora reached the stile and pounded up the steps and over.

  The second beast was on top of Deena, lowering its mandibles toward her face.

  “No!” Nora crashed against the soft, furry body, dislodging it, and thumped to the ground between the beast and her mother.

  Both spiders crouched in front of Nora. And paused.

  “Run, Mum!”

  Nora dodged the claws as they lashed out at her. She slammed against the second beast, then the first as it darted for Deena—

  Who was at the front steps, the threshold, the door . . .

  Both spiders flew up the snow, fast as a blink—

  Just as Deena bolted inside, leaving Nora alone.

  The shadow beasts turned back, then rushed for her.

  And paused.

  With a sudden flood of mindless terror, Nora scrambled over them. She raced up the patch of yard, onto the steps, and through the open doorway.

  They can’t come in. We have special iron on the threshold, so they can’t come in.

  The beasts clattered up the steps.

  But they didn’t reach the threshold: Deena slammed the door first.

  NORA’S CHOICE

  Nora and Deena backed away from the closed door.

  “What did we just see?” Deena panted.

  Nora grabbed the most recent Council bulletin from the kindling bucket and tore it open. “I don’t know. I don’t remember what they’re called.”

  She was trying to sound normal. But her voice cracked. Before she could stop it, a sob bubbled up.

  Deena wrapped Nora in a tight, tight hug. And started to cry.

  Nora slumped against her. Deena smelled like soil and sweat. Like fear.

  “Mum, please don’t cry. It freaks me out.”

  “That freaks you out?” Deena sniffed. “Not being in the dark with a pair of huge spiders bearing down on you? To think: I’ve always freed spiders.”

  “They weren’t spiders.” Still in her mother’s hug, Nora fumbled with the bulletin. She found the sketch on the inside page, a distinctly spidery scribble. “See? Aranea umbrae.”

  Deena grabbed the bulletin. “Why, here’s our little friend. Goodbye.” She thrust the paper into the fire. “I wish I could burn all those horrible beasts. Are they still out there, do you think?”

  Nora straightened. “They are definitely out there. And I am not letting you go back out for Jacky—”

  “Oh no, we’ve lost Jacky. She chose her own fate tonight. It’s a miracle we got away.” Deena wiped her eyes. “Was that rugby you were doing with the spiders?”

  Nora thought. “No, it was like Slip the Bite, that game I used to play with Dad and Terry, remember?” She’d grown up dodging their sheepdog in the games Owen had invented. She hadn’t realized what she’d just done outside, but all of it had been that rough play.

  Nora closed her eyes. We just escaped two giant shadow beasts. I bet they were the kind that got Dad.

  “Will you check the tatties, love?” Deena asked softly.

  With a shaking hand, Nora took a cloth and carefully lifted the lid from the pot on the fire. Four potatoes, their jackets brown and crisp, were waiting.

  Deena and Nora curled up in the cushioned chairs by the hearth—not in their usual spots at the table by the window that overlooked the field—and ate their potatoes with butter.

  Deena talked as if it were a normal Friday night. About homework. (Had Nora finished?) About prying parsnips from the ground for soup. (Would Nora have time for that in the morning before Wilfred’s dad picked her up for their Saturday gaming?) About school on Monday. (Could she ask Wilfred’s dad to stop at the grocer’s on the way home so Nora could fetch a pint of milk?)

  She doesn’t want to go outside again, Nora thought, and shivered. Can’t blame her.

  And yet somehow, something else was in her mind: a tingling thrill, and the smallest breath of triumph.

  I saw two shadow beasts. And I got away.

  * * *

  That night, Nora couldn’t sleep. She waited
until Deena was breathing softly, then slipped out from under the thick blanket and padded into the big room.

  The fire was only embers now.

  They can’t come down the flue. Nora took a poker and scraped the red-hot chunks. There’s that special iron at the top of the chimney.

  MacAskill Iron—on every window, doorway, and fireplace flue to keep away the shadow beasts. MacAskill Iron made you safe—and so did childhood. But for some children more than others.

  Nora closed her eyes.

  Five years ago, she’d been in the clinic in town and had her vaccinations—plus one more shot. All seven-year-olds got that one to see if their bodies could fight the beasts’ venom.

  She remembered the man who’d come into the doctor’s office for that last shot: willowy and pale, fair-haired, with moon-like glasses. He’d laid out two syringes: one with the shot that mimicked a beast’s venom, one with the antidote.

  The venom shot had been more of a punch than a pinch. Nora had begun to cry, but the pain quickly faded. The man with the moon-like glasses didn’t pick up the second syringe. Instead, smiling, he’d held out his hand.

  “Congratulations, Nora. You have the immunity. We haven’t seen it in a child in the Shires for years.” He beamed at Owen and Deena. “Congratulations, Mr. and Mrs. Kemp: Nora will soon become a knight. This is an honor. I’ll notify our headquarters of her test results, and in two days we’ll take her away to start training—”

  “You're not taking my daughter anywhere.” Owen Kemp’s voice had snapped like a branch in a storm. “And this isn’t an honor; it’s the worst luck in the world.”

  The man with the moon glasses had stared. Then, quiet but firm, he’d tried to persuade her father. He talked of the importance of the work and what it meant for the country; then the protected life and secure job that Nora would have when she grew up. And money—the monthly payment her parents would receive.

  “You think we're going to sell our Nora so you can send her out at gloaming with kids who'd rather watch her die than help?”

  “What are you talking about? Knights protect each other. And Mr. Kemp—I’m sure you know that no one but immune children can defeat the Umbrae. We realize the sacrifice, but it’s the only way.”