The London Pride by Charlie Fletcher

staring vacantly past them. Jo’s stomach lurched as if she was on a roller coaster. ‘Tragedy had a good idea …’
    Ariel landed beneath the well-lit canopy of a tube station and put Jo back on her feet. Jo staggered and realised that somewhere in the fall she had dropped her stick. She straightened up and grimaced.
    ‘And where’s Tragedy?’ she said.
    ‘He’s back in the hotel with Wolfie.’
    ‘Who’s Wolfie?’ said Jo.
    ‘One of Tragedy’s little gang. We were trying to warn you about the lions,’ said Ariel.
    ‘Bit late for that,’ said Jo.
    ‘I know,’ said Ariel. ‘We got rather surprised by them.’
    ‘Thank you for catching me,’ said Jo. ‘I, er …’
    ‘Think nothing of it,’ said Ariel breezily, running her fingers through her hair. ‘I thought you were the boy anyway.’
    ‘Will,’ said Jo.
    ‘Yes,’ said Ariel. ‘Will. Though I should have caught you just the same if I’d known it was you, which, now I come to think of it, I did.’
    She turned a smile on Jo that was evidently intended to dazzle and impress.
    ‘I’m grateful,’ said Jo. ‘And I’m glad you’re mended.’
    ‘So am I,’ said Ariel. ‘It was very painful and uncomfortable, the whole dragon thing. I can’t think why they are so stirred up.’
    ‘Yes,’ said Jo. ‘And now there are lions.’
    ‘Where?’ said Ariel, the smile sliding off her face as she looked hurriedly around the street.
    ‘No,’ said Jo. ‘Not here. Not now. I mean back there. You know. Everywhere. They seem to be hunting.’
    ‘The London Pride,’ said Ariel. ‘That’s what they are called. Every now and then all the lions get together and roam about, but they just do it for fun. I mean, they don’t normally hunt or attack things, not really, and if they do it’s just for fun. Admittedly there are some deer statues and a couple of gazelle sculptures that they will stalk if they wander close, but they’re awfully good sports about it. If they do catch them and bring them down they always drag them back to their plinths so they can be mended at midnight.’
    ‘Not much fun for the deer,’ said Jo.
    ‘I suppose not,’ said Ariel. ‘But it’s all done in good spirit; there’s no malice in it. These lions aren’t wild lions. They’re London lions. You know. Fierce but polite. Normally …’
    ‘But this isn’t normal,’ said Jo.
    ‘None of it,’ agreed Ariel. ‘And is it your fault?’
    ‘Why do you say that?’ said Jo.
    ‘Because you’re the only people not frozen and the lions seemed to be hunting you. And the dragons don’t like you …’ She looked at her with a carefully raised eyebrow. ‘No offence, but it is a tiny bit suspicious, isn’t it?’
    Jo wondered why when people said no offence they always followed it with something unpleasant that was a bit offensive.
    ‘No, it’s not us,’ said Jo. ‘We aren’t affected by the magic because we’ve got these scarab bracelet thingies that seem to be a talisman against it.’
    ‘Bracelets,’ said Ariel, suddenly interested. ‘Oh, I do rather like jewellery. Show me.’
    Jo held out the arm with the bracelet on it. Ariel reached out a slender gold hand.
    ‘May I try it on?’ she smiled.
    ‘No,’ said Jo, withdrawing her hand quickly. ‘If I take it off I’ll freeze like everyone else.’
    ‘Oh, fine,’ pouted Ariel, clearly more than a little piqued. ‘I don’t mind not trying it on. It’s a rather grubby thing; really just a pebble on a string, isn’t it? I expect if I was to wear jewellery it would look better to have something much bigger and more sparkly than that anyway.’
    She began running her fingers through her hair again, suddenly preoccupied with carefully teasing it into an artfully tousled look as she looked at her reflection in the ticket-office window.
    Jo’s elation at Ariel’s regeneration was beginning to subside slightly: she had forgotten how pleased with herself she always was, and how keen to share that