Darkmouth

Luckily, as the Legend opened its mouth to respond with a particularly devastating riddle, Finn’s father desiccated it.

He and Finn again walked home in a deeply awkward silence.

And then, of course, there was today.

In less than a year, Finn would be expected to Complete and become a full Legend Hunter. Among the criteria to even be considered were three verified, successful Legend hunts. Being cornered by the Minotaur that morning had instead completed a hat-trick of calamities.

He had caught the look on his father’s face as he got out of the car outside school, the disappointment furrowing his brow. Now, as Finn walked home, he had a greater understanding of how deep that disappointment ran. He faced two possibilities.

Either he would fail so spectacularly that he couldn’t become Complete, thereby preventing his father from being the only Darkmouth Legend Hunter in forty-two generations to bag every Legend Hunter’s dream job.

Or he would somehow succeed and be left with the responsibility of defending Darkmouth, and every soul in it, alone. Finn couldn’t decide which was the best outcome.

Or, more accurately, the worst.

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Finn turned on to a street that featured a row of apparently derelict houses on one side, windows bricked up or boarded, some painted with childish images of flower boxes in an attempt to brighten them up a bit. A couple of trees sprouting from the pavement softened it a little, but a long blank wall on the other side of the street gave everything an inescapably austere look.

In a town with street names that spoke of Darkmouth’s violent past, this one had no name. Finn’s house was the last in the row, ordinary-looking and unremarkable.

As he approached, Finn could see a police car parked just behind his father’s. The front door to the house was open and he could make out the figure of the local sergeant just inside.

Finn scurried to the low wall that hemmed in the small patch of garden outside his house. Out of sight, he crouched and listened.

“You know we appreciate what you do, Hugo,” Sergeant Doyle was saying. “And we know you’ve got to teach the boy.” The sergeant was a large man who used to be barrel-chested, but that barrel had slumped into his belly with age. “But this is the third time in only a few weeks.” There was a pause. Finn peered over the wall into the open doorway and saw Sergeant Doyle flip open a notepad and begin reading. “Two walls pulverised in Fillet Lane. A car half destroyed by your boy at the Charmless Gap—”

“OK, Sergeant,” said Finn’s dad, raising his hands. “We’ll be sure to …”

“Two people treated for shock.”

“We can cover whatever costs …”

“The real cost is to you, Hugo. The people here are already scared stiff of the monsters; they don’t need to fear the people who are supposed to be protecting them.” Sergeant Doyle never looked pleased to be in Darkmouth. This day was no different.

“I have to train him, Sergeant—” began Finn’s dad.

“We know you need to teach the boy, but there must be a better way than giving him a weapon and letting him loose,” said Sergeant Doyle, stepping away from the door. Pressed against the wall, Finn felt the heat rise in his face. The sergeant walked right past Finn without noticing him, got into his car and rolled down the window. “Hugo, you and I both know people here wonder why Darkmouth is the last place left where these attacks still happen. They’re beginning to blame you. Some of them are even asking if you keep letting the monsters in deliberately to keep your job.”

“Ah now, Sergeant ….”

“There are people in Darkmouth who wonder if they might be better off dealing with this themselves. It’s the twenty-first century, Hugo. They think they can buy monster-killing kits on the internet.”

Finn’s dad sighed. “They’re called Legends.”

“What?”

“See you, Sergeant.”

Sergeant Doyle drove off. Finn’s dad watched him go. “Close the door on your way in, Finn,” he remarked as he re-entered the house.

Finn groaned. He should have known it was pretty much impossible for him to snoop on his dad. Even his childhood games of hide-and-seek had been ruined by his father’s inability to even pretend he didn’t know where his son was.

As Finn started towards his front door, he saw something out of the corner of his eye, a blur further back along the street, moving quickly from one doorway to another. It was smaller than him, but tall enough, and he caught a glimpse of what might be fur. Red, flaming fur. Either that or …

Finn hesitated, opened his mouth to call his dad, then decided against it.

He held his palm out but felt no rain, turned his head towards home but heard no alarm.

He looked at his house, then back towards the figure. Quick and deft, it disappeared round the corner.

This was one chase Finn needed to do himself.

He followed it.

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As he turned the corner, Finn got a better glimpse of the figure he was pursuing.

He felt a shot of relief as it confirmed what he had hoped from the moment he saw it. He was confident now that he would not need any help, any armour, any weapon. Nor would he need any of the courage his father kept insisting he would one day find.

It wasn’t a Legend but a person. And, if a person was going to be sneaking around, a mass of blazing red hair wasn’t much use for blending in.

Arriving on to the next street, he saw her straight away. She hadn’t even attempted to hide, but instead appeared to be waiting for him, leaning against a wall, her eyes only half visible behind her hair. Finn had felt those eyes trained on the back of his head throughout the school day, but whenever he had glanced back at her she hadn’t been looking at him.

“What do you want?” he asked, realising he didn’t know the new girl’s name.

“You’re Finn, aren’t you?”

“Yeah,” said Finn crossly. “And you are …?”

She didn’t answer.

“Why are you following me?” said Finn. “I mean, have you seen my street? We don’t exactly get many visitors.”

“That’s not what I heard.”

“Then you should know that you’re better off staying away.” He took a deep breath so he could stand a bit taller. “I deal with a lot of things far worse than you every day of the week, and it usually doesn’t work out well for them.”

“That’s not what I heard either.”

Finn immediately deflated. “You seem to have heard everything then,” he said, betrayed by a squeak of hurt in his voice. “Now leave me alone.”

He turned and started marching away.

“Emmie!” she shouted after him. “My name’s Emmie. Sorry. I didn’t mean to be rude. First-day nerves, I guess.”

“Yeah, well …” Finn paused, but he still didn’t know what to say.