Chaos Descends. Shane Hegarty

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      With a shake of his head, humiliation complete, Finn marched up the corridor, past the paintings of all those Legend Hunters who had gone before him, ignoring the judgemental glare of his famously unhappy great-grandfather, Gerald the Disappointed. The further up the corridor he went, the older the portraits became, until the earliest paintings had faded into faces made unrecognisable by peeling paint. It was a constant reminder of how long Finn’s family had been Darkmouth’s Legend Hunters.

      He reached the hallway, where a narrow door brought him into the stark contrast of a house as ordinary as any other in Darkmouth. Apart from one thing: all the people at the windows. Outside were the Half-Hunters who hadn’t won tickets to see him train. The flash of cameras. The dark flicker of silhouettes crossing the garden.

      “It’ll all be over soon,” said Finn’s mother, Clara, as she arrived from the living room on her way to the stairs. “But not soon enough. Hold on, you’re wearing shorts.” She looked through the door to the Long Hall, where Half-Hunters were gathering their things to leave. “Your father’s fault, right? Did training not go well?”

      Finn bit his lip.

      “Just remind yourself it won’t be like this for ever,” Clara said, putting an arm round his shoulder. “I’ve done that pretty much every day since I married into this family.”

      Outside, Finn heard the murmur of those loitering Half-Hunters, watched the shapes cross the door, saw one grow larger and darker until it poked a nose through the letterbox.

      “Hello. Let me in,” said a voice desperately. A man’s voice. “Please, there is about to be a terrible disaster.”

      He sounded French. Or Swedish. Or maybe Korean. Finn wasn’t great with accents.

      “Please,” said the Half-Hunter. “I need help.”

      Finn sighed, closed his eyes in a long blink to compose himself, while Clara carefully opened the door. A Half-Hunter was dancing about on the doorstep, wearing some kind of black, naval-type uniform, complete with coloured strips on his left breast and chunky red and black cufflinks.

      “Thank you,” he said as he burst in. “Where’s the toilet?”

      Clara nodded towards a door under the stairs, and the Half-Hunter dashed straight for it.

      There was another knock on the door. “Toilet’s already full,” said Finn.

      “Do you need me to unblock it?” asked Emmie, pushing her head round the door.

      “That’s not what I …” said Finn, flustered. “Hi, Emmie. You’re here.”

      “I wouldn’t have missed your big ceremony for anything,” she beamed. “You know you’ve a split in those shorts?”

      Finn felt himself blush. “Good. Not my shorts. I mean, it’s good you’re back.”

      “Just for the ceremony,” she said. “Unless something goes terribly wrong again in Darkmouth. I’ve my fingers crossed for that.”

      “I’ll do my best,” he smiled, while hoping nothing whatsoever would go terribly wrong.

      “Hey, Finn, Clara,” said Emmie’s father, Steve, walking in after her. “You know there are a lot of people out there taking pictures of your garden wall.”

      “I signed an autograph,” said Emmie, excited.

      “No one wanted mine,” said Steve, failing to pretend that this hadn’t bothered him a bit. “I guess no one cares about the guy who rescues you every time you need it.”

      Hugo arrived from the Long Hall. “We’re all about to need rescuing from the tourists following me up from the training room.”

      “I’m always available to bail you out,” said Steve. “Unless it’s an issue with the toilet.”

      Hugo looked puzzled. They heard the toilet flush. The door opened. The now СКАЧАТЬ