been more ready to get back to his friends and his own house.
âItâs too early to be getting dark,â Granny Keane murmured. In the middle of June, the sun never set until after ten, and yet the station was gradually getting darker and darker.
âProbably climate change,â Stephen said. That was what their father said whenever the weather went weird.
âNo, no, itâs nothing,â Granny Keane said quickly, standing up as if sheâd suddenly realised something. âCome on, letâs get you a seat near the front.â
Usually they walked along the platform because it was easier to get a seat at the front of the train, but OisÃn didnât think they needed to worry about that today. The few people at the station were leaving, whispering about the terrible state of train delays, the awful cheat of a summer where it started to get dark at five oâclock and how it was all probably something to do with the euro.
âGran, are you sure the trainâs coming?â OisÃn said, looking up to check the clock.
The train was still twenty minutes away and the neon seconds were flickering along towards five oâclock. But as soon as OisÃn looked up he saw at once what had bothered Granny Keane and what was causing the unnatural darkness. Hovering over the glass roof were several creatures, their black forms blocking all the sun from the platform. Not one, not tens, but hundreds and hundreds of ravens, all of them pecking their beaks against the glass and looking down with terrible green eyes.
Chapter 3
The Underwater Train
O ISÃNâs head told him to run. The problem was his legs. His legs were rooted to the platform as if they had decided it was time he learnt what scared stiff really meant. OisÃn looked at his feet so he wouldnât have to think about the ravens, but he could feel them looking down at him, could feel the hairs on his neck stand straight as soldiers. The Book of Magic could sense them too. It was squirming in his pocket as if it wanted to get out. OisÃn wasnât sure if it wanted to get away from the ravens or to join them. Stephen and Sorcha hadnât noticed yet. Sorcha was happy with her Maltesers (she had reached the sucking-the-chocolate stage). Stephen was playing intently with his mobile phone. The air around them got colder and darker.
Just when OisÃnâs brain had almost convinced his legs that it was time to get moving, he felt Granny Keaneâs hand on his shoulder. Her face was smiling tightly but he could feel her hand shaking. He had to tell her.
âGran ââ
âItâs the train!â Granny Keane said, without hearing him.
âThereâs no train,â OisÃn said. âThe clock still says itâs twenty minutes away.â
But when he looked at the platform, the train was right there, as if it, rather than they, had been waiting all this time. It looked like a normal DART train with the same green checked cushions and yellow stripe on the side. Something wasnât right, though. It was eerily empty and hadnât made a single sound as it reached the platform. OisÃn was beginning to feel like he didnât have enough hairs on the back of his neck for all this strangeness.
Stephen didnât seem bothered. He hurried Sorcha into the carriage and waited impatiently for OisÃn. OisÃnâs legs were still staying put. He couldnât leave Granny Keane alone on the platform, even though she was planning on taking the 130 bus back to her own house in Clontarf.
âWhy donât you come with us?â he asked.
A flicker of longing flashed across Granny Keaneâs face.
âNo, dear, Iâm staying here,â she said, patting OisÃn on the shoulder. âBut you must go. Just remember ââ
âCome on!â Stephen said, yanking OisÃn by the arm.
âWait!â OisÃn said.
âDonât worry about me,â Granny Keane said