Read an exclusive extract from 'Welcome to Dead Town Raven McKay' by Eibhlís Carcione
'Welcome to Dead Town Raven McKay' by Eibhlís Carcione
On her first day in Grave’s Pass, Raven McKay spotted pooka horses chasing goblins in a vacant lot, three banshees on a bus, a zombie in ripped jeans staring in the window of a phone shop, a bogeyman walking a labradoodle, a ghost on a ladder cleaning windows, a ghoul sipping coffee at an outdoor café.
Raven McKay with black hair as silky as a raven’s wing and eyes as piercing blue as the sea in the sandy coves around Grave’s Pass sat in the social worker’s car outside no. 28 Flower Hill. She clutched her battered beige suitcase with its faded sticker of a black butterfly and missed her parents terribly. This was her third foster home in six months. She had been in and out of Kim’s green Fiat so much, the very cherry jellybean air freshener hanging from the rear view mirror had lost its tang.
“Look Kim,” screeched Raven. “Those are pooka horses.” The ghostly stallions galloped in the lot by an old factory, fiery smoke billowing from their nostrils.
“They’re harmless, Raven. Once you leave them be.
We’ve already spoken about this.” The shimmering coats of the horses stung her like vinegar in the eyes. What a welcome, Raven thought.
One of the horses stopped and scratched the earth with a black hoof, kicking up dust, sparks, clouds of sulphur. Raven rolled down the window and pinched her nose, overcome with the stench of rotten eggs.
Where was the very cherry jellybean air freshener when you needed it?
“You must be warm in those clothes,” Kim said.
“A little. But you know I love these clothes.” “Do as you wish dear. But you should take off the hat and jacket. It’s scorching.” Raven sighed and stuck her hand out of the window.
It felt heavy in the thick, sticky air. Kim was right – it was scorching but there was no way Raven was going to take off her favourite hat and jacket. She brought in her hand and sniffed her wrist. Rotten eggs. She wrinkled her nose and touched the breast pocket of her coat.
Raven took out a neatly folded paper from the pocket of her brown velvet jacket. The note her mum left. The note that was now her anchor. It kept her grounded and safe. Often just before bed, when the night seemed darkest, she would trace her mother’s handwriting with her finger. She read the words, although she knew them by heart.
But of course she couldn’t help herself on the first night in her first foster home. She opened it a little. Her stomach knotted like a pretzel. She looked around at her new room in her new foster home.
She was a stranger who would have to face school and a new town. She ripped it open. She ran her hands over the white, silky lining. There was nothing there.
“Oh Mum… oh Dad,” Raven whispered. “Where are you? What happened to you?” She knew Kim heard her but Kim said nothing. Raven didn’t mind. Kim was a nice lady but Raven often thought Kim was tired of shunting her around from foster home to foster home. Anyway, there was nothing to say.
What could she say? She didn’t know where Raven’s parents were either.
Raven never told anyone about the note. All the world knew was that Raven came home one day and her parents were gone. Vanished into thin air. The house like the Mary Celeste. The police were stunned, a mystery in a world of mysteries.
And now Raven was about to step through the doorway of another foster home. In another town. But at least this time was different, Raven thought. Kim discovered that Raven’s father’s third cousin once removed lived in Grave’s Pass. Raven was shocked to find out she had a relative, even a distant one.
Grave’s Pass was a town on a hill with narrow streets, some cobbled with ornate archways with carvings of wolves and snakes. Some streets were brightly painted like Smarties. Others were the shades of cola bottles and liquorice and some as black as the pooka horses. Some streets were so dark and wicked that you would want to fold them like a deck of cards and put them in your pocket and forget about them forever.
Kim had already told her that Grave’s Pass wasn’t an ordinary town. Those pooka horses were probably just the tip of the iceberg, Raven thought. Raven couldn’t believe it when Kim told her about Grave’s Pass over breakfast earlier. How come her father never said where he was from? Did Mum know? Was she from there? They were having breakfast in Kim’s office, eating cold, soggy takeaway pancakes from the café across the street. It was a windy, wet day, full of grey. Raven felt as miserable as the weather. Kim’s office was chock-a-block with cabinets and files of other children like Raven.
The more Kim told her, the more the pancakes felt like rocks in her mouth. How could such a town exist?
A town where the living and the dead live side by side? If she hadn’t seen the pooka horses and the other creatures on the drive in, she wouldn’t have believed it.
She wasn’t sure she believed it anyway. Now, some people might think that it wasn’t a suitable place for a foster child, but Kim kept telling Raven anywhere with family was the best place, even if that family was a distant cousin she had never met.
