Excerpt: The Map and The Stone

Rhys was disappointed but it was still better than nothing or a cold drink. Then the noise came from upstairs, a scuffling and scratching and he was sure it came from his room.
“Darklings need you.” The voice whispered and this time he didn’t bother looking round, knowing he wouldn’t see anything.
“Don’t care.” He muttered.
“Need you.”
Rhys thought for a moment, determined to stay in his angry and grumpy mood but curiosity got the better of him and he found himself wondering what might be upstairs. The scuffling came again.
“Mum.” He got up and poked his head round the kitchen doorway. “I’m cold, just going to get a jumper.”
“OK, don’t take too long.”
He fled upstairs and into his room, where he was expecting it to have been trashed again with clothes thrown about. He pushed up his door nervously and saw clear floor covered with a carpet that his mum called oatmeal but it looked like porridge to Rhys. His round football rug was straight and flat at the bottom of the short ladder on his bed. His bed was made, duvet smooth and neat, two pillows plumped and together with pyjamas just poking out from between them. His books were tidy on the shelf and his wardrobe was closed. Even his bear was sitting there on the pillows nice and neatly.
But next to the bear was something else. It looked at Rhys, tipped its head to one side and its mouth widened in what might have been a smile or an attempt at a smile by someone who didn’t quite know how smiles worked. If it had straightened up and stood next to him then its head would have just come up to his hip, but its legs were folded beneath it and its shoulders were hunched so it looked like it had no neck. Long limbs curled around a short, thin body and it was wearing what looked like leather trousers and tunic with oversized boots. The handle of a short knife stuck out of a narrow belt and a long fingered hand rested on the hilt. Its face was dark, like wet wood and as lined and wrinkled as the bark of a tree. Gnarled skin surrounded deep set black eyes that were beneath long tufted ears that stuck up from the top of its head and when it opened its mouth Rhys gasped but stopped himself from screaming. Its teeth were many, in lines like a shark and as viciously pointed and its tongue was startlingly red against the dark of its skin as it flicked upwards to wet dry lips. It held itself very still as Rhys stared.