Roar of the Hungry Beast (eBook)

“And the first known Dreamweaver was…?”

“Ummmmmmmm.” My eyes start to droop. “Ch-choo…”

“Chuang Zu!” Neena says, dropping a heavy book on the table. I jolt upright, suddenly wide awake. I can’t help feeling sleepy, though. It’s so cosy in Neena’s kitchen – the smell of chai cooking on the stove is like a warming hug.

“Neena, don’t quiz Tito so hard.” Her mum, Ameena, chuckles. “Besides, Chuang Zu is only the first Dreamweaver we know of. There may have been many more in other parts of the world.”

She comes over and sets a cup of chai down in front of me with a smile. The steam rises and fills my nostrils with cinnamony goodness.

When Neena asked if I’d like to come over on Saturday to study dreamweaving history, I thought it would be fun. I mean, it is magic after all. But she’s been testing me for HOURS, and now I’m more than ready to have a nap.

“Sorry, Tito, I know I sometimes get overexcited about it,” Neena says, blushing. “It’s just great having another Dreamweaver around. How about we just go over the basics one more time?”

I nod and flip back the pages of the cream-coloured journal in front of me. My very own Jinncyclopedia. Neena has one too, but hers is black and written in her mother tongue, Khowar. She copied out the most important bits for me in English, but it’s up to me to fill in the rest of the blank pages of my journal with my very own dreamweaving adventures. I turn to the very first page, the basics.

I read through the instructions and Neena watches me intently, nodding along.

“And what are those in touch with the spirit world called?” Ameena asks.

I hesitate slightly. There are lots of different types of people in touch with magic: Dreamweavers, like me and Neena; Starreaders like Ameena; and Healers like Neena’s grandma, who is watching us from a big leather armchair. Grandma doesn’t speak much English but she’s mouthing something silently at me.

“Don’t give him clues!” Neena giggles.

“It isn’t cheating if I don’t understand the hints,” I protest.

Grandma starts miming holding a bowl and spoon, blowing on the bowl and taking a sip.

Soup!

“Soupsayers! I mean, Soothsayers!” I blurt out.

Grandma claps her hands together and laughs with a gap-toothed smile.

“It’s hard to believe there are Soothsayers all over the world and they could be anyone…” I wonder aloud. I catch myself looking at the postwoman or the checkout person in the supermarket suspiciously from time to time.

Neena nods in agreement. “I know. But since we have to stay secret, we can only tell people we really trust. You’ve seen what could happen when the wrong people use our powers for evil… There are some places you can be open, though, when you live in a community of Soothsayers, like we did back in Chitral.”

Chitral in Pakistan is Neena’s hometown. She always gets a wistful far-off look in her eyes when she talks about it.

“I feel sad that you’ve only met the three of us,” Neena says, shaking her head as if it’s a great tragedy. “There are so many amazing Dreamweavers and Starreaders and all kinds of other Soothsayers with different powers.”

I feel the hairs on my arm stand up. “Other types of Soothsayers? Like what?”

“Oh, there are Spellcasters, Spiritlinks…” Neena lists, as if it’s the most casual thing in the world. I want to know more but she’s already moved on. “I wish you could meet my little cousin Faisal! He’s still in Chitral but I was his dreamweaving mentor. He loves animals, even the ones other people don’t like. His dreamweaving symbol is a worm!”

“A worm?!” I burst out laughing. “And I thought my symbol was funny.”

(I chose the smiley face emoji with its tongue sticking out as my symbol, purely to make Neena laugh!)

“The things toddlers dream about are so funny. Like, once we were in a field of puppies but they all quacked like chickens and laid chocolate eggs!”

Neena sighs and I can tell she’s thinking of home again. Neena and her family had to flee Chitral to escape a very dangerous Darkweaver, the Bhoot. He’s actually Neena’s uncle and he’s not happy that they fled Pakistan. He’s been tracking Neena ever since.

“Well, maybe I will meet your worm-loving cousin Faisal one day,” I say, trying to banish the worries from my mind. “And all those other amazing Soothsayers. Who knows!”

“Who knows…” Neena agrees, a little sadly.

We pack our study materials away as the old wooden clock on the wall strikes 6 p.m. It’s already pitch-black outside; the winter nights have firmly taken over from the long autumn sunsets. I notice Ameena standing at the door that leads to the garden, peering out of the window up at the sky.

“It’s a new moon next Wednesday,” she says quietly, almost to herself. “I will be performing a new-moon ritual to read the stars. Tito, why don’t you join us?”

I feel a flurry of excitement in my stomach. “I’d love to. Thank you.”

Being able to watch Ameena using her star-reading powers will be amazing. I feel slightly nervous, though, as I know the reason Ameena wants to include me.

Since our run-in with the Bhoot, we’ve all been on high alert. We know he’s working with a group of other Soothsayers, an alliance, who want to merge the spirit world with our world. The spirit world is where creatures called jinn live. I met some of them – fairies that the Bhoot had turned freaky by casting a spell on them. They tracked Neena down and would have helped lure her to him if we hadn’t broken the spell. I feel a shiver down my spine when I think of what he might have planned next.

“We need to gather as much knowledge about the Bhoot’s plans as possible,” Ameena says, still looking up at the darkening sky. “The stars see all. They can help us.”

The front doorbell rings, interrupting our thoughts. My mum must be here to pick me up. I pack my Jinncyclopedia away and give Neena a hug goodbye. I can hear Ameena and Mum chatting at the door, but just as I’m about to step into the hallway a big thunderclap rolls through the sky.

“That’s strange, there was no mention of a storm on the weather news,” Mum says, looking at me. “Come on, let’s get home before it starts pouring down. Bye, Ameena, and thanks.”

Mum and I drive home as more thunderclaps ring out and a fine rain starts to fall. As we pull into the little car park behind our terraced house I see Rupert, our fluffy labradoodle, standing at the gate barking.

“What’s Rupert doing in the garden?” I frown. “It’s raining.”

“Mama must be having a kitchen nightmare,” Mum says, her eyes wide. “Come on.”

Mum was right. When we get inside, the smoke alarm is going off, my baby brother, Roberto, is crying in his highchair and Mama is flapping a tea towel in front of the smoking oven.

“Ah, mio dio, amore, the potatoes are charcoal!” Mama cries out. “Tito, darling, please stop the dog barking, I cannot take it!”

“OK, Mama,” I say, giving her a quick kiss. Mama is an excellent chef (usually). She teaches cooking at the local college. When something goes wrong in the kitchen, we all know to be extra nice to her. I call Rupert in and stroke him gently to calm him down while Mum picks up Roberto and soothes him.

When Mama has finally stopped flapping the tea towel and the potatoes are out of the oven, we all take a deep breath and look at each other.

“So,” I say, “pizza?”

I always feel sleepier in winter when the days are shorter. On frosty evenings, I just want to snuggle in bed in my PJs with a book. In any case, going to sleep is when the real adventures begin.

I settle down under my fluffy duvet with Neena’s dream symbol drawn on my hand. We agreed to meet in her dream tonight to practise my dreamweaving techniques. I drift off thinking of Neena’s warm kitchen and the comforting smell of cinnamon…

And then I open my eyes and I’m on my clifftop. A dream for a Dreamweaver feels just as real as the waking world – only here, there are no limits. Everything is created...