This one?
‘Mortimer brought friends.’ Sacha’s tone was dark. ‘More of the revenants.’
Zombies. That was why she’d heard gunshots. They couldn’t be fought with alchemical abilities. Deide must have brought a gun.
She thought of the huge, stumbling creatures that attacked them at St Wilfred’s. Their freakish strength. The helplessness she’d felt facing them.
She struggled in Sacha’s grip. ‘We have to help them.’
‘Louisa told me to get you out of here,’ he told her, not letting go. ‘You’re injured. It looks bad.’
‘It’s not bad,’ she snapped. ‘It’s just blood.’
Somewhere behind them a body – a big one – hit the ground with concussive force. Alastair swore colourfully. Taylor could hear the strain in his voice.
‘Missed me, you wanker.’
Gripping her hand tightly, Sacha pulled her back towards the church square. They huddled in a doorway well out of sight. Across the square, Louisa knelt with her hands on a dark lamp post. She was clearly trying to summon enough energy to bring the electricity back, and with it waves of power they could draw on.
Taylor could see the sweat beading her forehead; sense her frustration.
As she watched, a huge, lumbering figure crashed towards the other girl, hands outstretched.
‘Arrete,’ Deide shouted, flinging a knife. It struck with unerring accuracy, slicing into the thing’s back without a sound.
The creature stopped and fumbled for the knife, swatting at the blade like a human might slap a mosquito.
Taylor lunged towards Louisa, but Sacha held her tight.
‘I’ve got to help her,’ she said, twisting in his grip.
‘Wait, Taylor…’ he began, but she was already gone.
She darted across the square, landing hard on her knees next to Louisa.
The other girl glared at her. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Sacha crouched next to them. ‘I couldn’t stop her.’
‘Dammit, Taylor.’ Louisa fumed. ‘It’s like you’re determined to die.’
‘I’m going to help you. You can’t do this alone.’ Taylor rested her hands near the box at the base of the pole that controlled the power. ‘Let’s try this together. In three, two, one.’
Using all her remaining strength she sought.
Finding a fine strand of power from the few trees in the square, she urged it towards the light, summoning the city’s electricity with all of her remaining strength.
It didn’t work. The light stayed stubbornly dark. All the effort made her head throb alarmingly.
‘Bollocks.’ She wiped sweat from her forehead, and her hand came back tinged with red. ‘Why isn’t it working?’
Reaching over, Sacha took her hand. His gaze locked on hers.
‘Try again.’
Taylor’s breath caught. He was right. They could do this.
She reached for Louisa’s hand, so that the three of them were physically connected.
‘Once more,’ she said.
This time, she felt the warm wave of Louisa’s power.
Taking a deep breath, Taylor closed her eyes and called on the ground beneath her feet, the sky, every molecule of energy she could find, however fragile. She couldn’t feel the stone path beneath her feet anymore, or the cold metal beneath her fingertips. Her head had stopped aching. She felt as if she was flying – floating above everything that was happening around her. She was strong. So strong.
She could sense the wires inside the walls around her. Even see them, empty and waiting to be filled. She would fill them.
She called everything to her.
Light.
From far away she heard a click, a buzzing sound and then… Blinding light.
‘Oh thank God for that.’ Louisa tumbled back on to the stones, as all around them lights flickered on. In the shops. Overhead. In the city at the foot of the hill.
The church blazed with light. Lights strung overhead burst into glowing life.
It was beautiful.
A cry behind her. ‘Look out!’
Moving purely on instinct, Taylor and Sacha leaped out of the way. Louisa was right beside them.
Something crashed to the ground where they’d just been standing.
It was one of those things – its flesh bulging and swollen. Eyes small and empty. Clutching at its bloodied back.
As Taylor stared, it moaned and blinked at her.
It wasn’t dead.
Heavy footsteps thudded towards her and they spun around to see a second creature swinging hard at Alastair. Blood ran down the thing’s chest and face but it was still unbelievably strong.
Ducking the blow, Alastair whirled to face it, a carving knife in one hand.
‘Why won’t you die, you stupid bloody zombie? You’ve already done it once.’
Without warning, Deide leaped out of the shadows and slammed a knife into the thing’s back. It stopped, roaring with pain and spun towards him.
‘Where’s Mortimer?’ Sacha shouted at Louisa.
‘Don’t know,’ she snapped. ‘We need to find him. But we have to get past these things first. You and Taylor need to get out of here.’
Taylor shook her head stubbornly. ‘I’m not leaving you.’
‘The hell you’re not.’
‘Louisa, I’m serious…’ Taylor began, but then a voice carved from pure ice rang out across the square.
‘This arguing is giving me a headache.’
As one, they whirled to find Mortimer standing next to them, as if he’d been there all along.
Louisa recovered first.
‘Jesus, Pierce. You give me the creeps.’
Her voice was steady but she watched him the way you’d watch a rattlesnake, coiled to strike.
‘Louisa!’ Alastair called sharply from across the square. ‘Mind yourself.’
Behind them, Taylor could hear Deide fighting furiously with the creatures but she didn’t dare turn around.
Sacha took a step forward, fists raised, mouth opened to argue, but Mortimer shot him a look and he doubled over, as if he’d been punched.
‘Sacha!’ Taylor reached for him. He didn’t look up. She hadn’t even felt Mortimer use his power. It had been undetectable. She gripped his hand tightly.
Fury raced through her veins, washing the fear away.
‘What did you do to him, you monster?’ she shouted.
Mortimer tilted his head.
‘You interest me, Miss Montclair,’ he said. ‘You seem so determined to prevent something that cannot be stopped. Aldrich thought you were intelligent. But isn’t continuing to attempt the same task even after you are made aware of its impossibility a sign of lack of intelligence?’
‘That depends,’ Taylor said coldly, ‘on whether you’re right about it being impossible.’
Still holding Sacha’s hand, she drew energy from the connection between them, and electricity from the wires under their feet – pulling it easily and propelling it towards Mortimer with all her strength.
If he’d been anyone else, it would have killed him. Instead, he knocked it aside with a flick of his fingers.
Louisa stood next to Taylor, angling her body so it was between her and Mortimer.
‘Is that the demon juice, Mortimer?’ Her tone was mocking. ‘How did it feel to sell your soul, you disgusting pervert? Did you cry when it happened?’
His brow lowered. ‘I don’t think I like your tone.’
He raised his hand quickly but Louisa was quicker, fighting back the Dark energy he flung at her with astonishing speed and strength.
Taylor could smell the acrid scent of their power in the air.
‘You can dish it out but I’ll bet you can’t take it,’ Louisa taunted him.
But Taylor could see she was faltering. He was too strong.
‘Stop it.’ She shouted the words.
Mortimer’s attention swung back towards her. In the shadows his eyes loo
ked lidless.
‘Do you have something to offer me, Miss Montclair? Because I can make this stop in an instant.’
‘If you’re asking for me to hand you Sacha, forget it,’ she snapped. ‘He’s not for sale. I promise you will never have him.’
As she talked, her eyes skated the square, looking for something she could use to kill him. He’d already dodged her most powerful blow. She needed something else. Something creative.
She needed Sacha.
Keeping her eyes on Mortimer, she directed a delicate strand of electrical energy towards Sacha, hoping Mortimer wouldn’t notice.
Release.
Mortimer smiled – thin lips curling up humourlessly as he studied her.
‘Oh, I think you’ll find that I will succeed. I have not come this far to fail, and you have delivered him safely to me.’
‘You don’t have me,’ Sacha said. ‘You never will.’
Taylor grinned. It had worked.
Mortimer eyed them coldly.
‘You are all delusional,’ he said. ‘Well, let me show you the truth of the situation so we can move on.’
Before anyone realised what he was doing, he flicked his hand at Louisa. Caught off-guard, she shot backwards with a startled cry. Her feet left the ground, and she soared through the air high above them.
Mortimer made some small motion, Taylor saw it only out of the corner of her eye, and Louisa’s body stopped moving. It just hung there, swinging sickeningly against the dark sky.
Mortimer stepped closer to Taylor.
‘Now, do you understand, Miss Montclair? You have lost this fight.’
He made a slow loop with his finger, and Louisa’s body spun in the air. Once. Twice.
Taylor heard herself sob.
Then, like a bird shot in flight, Louisa’s limp body tumbled to the ground.
She heard Alastair cry out, and an awful crunching thud as she hit the cobblestone road many feet away.
Taylor felt that blow with her whole body. Tears burned her eyes, but she didn’t dare look away from Mortimer long enough to see if Louisa was alive.
‘You bastard,’ she whispered. Mortimer held her gaze, unblinking.
‘I take what I want, Miss Montclair. I should have thought your grandfather would have taught you that.’
Grabbing her hand, Sacha pulled Taylor towards him.
‘Don’t you touch her,’ he said, but even Taylor could hear the fear in his voice.
Mortimer smiled.
Then footsteps thudded towards them. This time, Taylor did turn. She expected Alastair seeking revenge but it was Deide, a gun in his hand.
‘Mortimer,’ he shouted. Then he said something in French so rapidly Taylor couldn’t catch it. Something about Hell and death.
Everything happened in slow motion.
Deide fired the gun. Taylor heard the concussion. Saw the flare of the muzzle. She even, she thought later, saw the bullet itself, moving in slow-motion.
Mortimer watched the bullet with interest. Then lifted one hand and plucked the shining piece of metal out of the air.
For a terrifying moment, he studied it. Then, he threw it back at Deide.
The bullet pierced the teacher’s forehead, just above his glasses.
He crumpled to the ground and lay terribly still.
‘Non.’ Sacha lunged towards him, but Taylor knew there was no point.
Deide was dead. Maybe Louisa, too.
They’d all be dead if she didn’t get Sacha out of here. Right now.
Stifling a sob, she flung up her hand, she pulled energy from the electricity around her – all of it.
Protect.
She gave it everything she had. She could almost hear Louisa’s voice in her head: ‘Give it a bit of welly, Taylor. Quit playing around.’
The light post next to Mortimer exploded in a flash of fire and sparks.
All the lights went out again.
In the shelter of darkness, Taylor grabbed Sacha’s hand and pulled him away from Deide’s body.
‘I can’t leave him,’ he protested, struggling in her grip.
‘He’s dead, Sacha.’ She was holding onto him with strength she didn’t know she had, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘We have to get out of here.’
Thirty-Five
They ran down a narrow side path, past the little cottage where they’d seen the disturbing puppet show that afternoon, past the shops and then straight out across the cobblestones and through the main gate.
The whole time, Sacha listened for footsteps following behind them, but all he could hear was the sound of their own feet hitting ancient stone, and their harsh breathing.
He kept seeing Deide’s face, his look of disbelief as the bullet struck. The scene played out, over and over.
The motorcycle was right where he’d left it. Moving on pure autopilot, he leaped on the back, sweeping both helmets off the ground in the same motion. As Taylor climbed on behind him he glanced at her – she was trembling violently.
‘Did Louisa and Alastair get away?’
She shot him an anguished look. ‘I don’t know.’
Sacha didn’t ask any other questions. He fired up the engine with a roar, and they shot off down the hill. Somehow – he would never know precisely how he managed it – he forced himself to focus on the road ahead, not the carnage they’d left behind.
They wound their way through the town, driving without stopping until they reached the agreed meeting place by a wide, slow stream at the edge of the town.
Even with the street lights back on, it was dark in the shadows, but they stayed on the bike, poised to run. As they waited, Sacha stared down at his hands, trying not to see Deide’s face in his mind.
He was heartsick.
They’d failed completely. Failed to kill Mortimer. Failed to find the room where the ceremony to undo the curse needed to happen.
All they’d managed to do was get a good man killed. And maybe more.
He could feel Taylor’s body trembling.
‘Mr Deide,’ she whispered. ‘Louisa.’
Sacha nodded, blinking back tears. ‘I know.’
He had no idea how much time passed before they heard the van – probably just a few minutes, maybe even less. It felt like forever before it pulled off the road and skidded to a standstill.
Leaping from the bike, they both ran towards it.
Alastair didn’t get out. He stuck his head out the window so the street light caught his blond hair, turning it white.
‘She’s alive.’ His voice was taut. ‘Barely.’
‘Let me see her.’ Taylor ran to the van, yanking open the back door.
Louisa lay on the seat, unconscious. Alastair had wrapped a t-shirt around her head to staunch the bleeding and strapped her head and neck so she couldn’t move.
Sacha had never seen her look so small.
‘Louisa,’ Taylor choked, covering her mouth with her hands. ‘Oh no.’
‘I’m taking her to the hospital. I don’t know if she has a chance, but I’m going to do all I can.’ Alastair pushed his hair back from his face, and Sacha saw a purpling bruise above his left eye, blood encrusted around it.
‘What happened with Mortimer?’ he asked.
Alastair shook his head. ‘I don’t know. As soon as that light post exploded, I grabbed Lou and got out of there.’ He let out a long breath. ‘What are we going to do?’
For a moment, nobody answered. Then, closing the van door, Taylor stepped back to stand beside Sacha, slipping her hand into his. There was a calmness about her, as if she’d decided something in that van.
Sacha thought he knew what it was. He’d come to the same conclusion.
‘Take Louisa to the hospital. Make sure she’s OK,’ she told Alastair. ‘We’ll handle Mortimer. You’ve done enough.’
Sacha squeezed her fingers.
‘We’ll be fine,’ he lied.
There was regret in Alastair’s eyes as he looked at them, but he didn’t object
.
‘I hate that it worked out this way,’ he said. ‘You shouldn’t have to do this alone.’
‘It was always going to be us,’ Taylor said. ‘Wasn’t it?’
‘It’s us he wants,’ Sacha agreed. ‘No one else should die for me.’
Alastair’s lips tightened.
‘Do me one favour,’ he said, shifting the van into gear. ‘Kill that bastard, will you? Do it for Louisa.’
The van spun its tyres, swinging back onto the road.
When the sound of the engine faded away, and they were all alone, Taylor leaned against Sacha.
‘What are we going to do?’
He wished he knew the answer. All he knew was they couldn’t stay here. He looked back at the bike.
‘I guess we go back to the chateau.’
The suggestion made her shudder, and he couldn’t blame her. The idea of going back to the chateau without the others was horrible. But what else could they do? They needed a safe place to regroup.
When they climbed on the bike, Taylor clung to him.
Sacha flipped his visor down.
He wanted to punch something. To scream.
But he wasn’t a kid anymore.
So he pulled onto the narrow road, and headed away from Carcassonne.
* * *
It wasn’t until they got to the chateau that they learned how bad things really were.
Sacha had just turned off the road towards the windmill when Taylor felt it. She described the feeling later as like tar or something worse, sticky and tainted. It sucked the air out of her lungs.
She leaned forward urgently, her fingers digging into his sides.
‘Turn around, Sacha. Turn around.’
He knew her well enough not to question. Wheeling the bike in a tight circle, he gunned it back towards the main road, tyres spitting gravel.
Only when he was a safe distance away, did he stop and look back to see what she’d sensed. The weathered, ivy-covered stone walls of the chateau loomed out of the darkness behind them, like a ship emerging from fog. There were things all over it – creatures of some sort, clambering up the walls. In the dark, he couldn’t see what they were but they moved like spiders.
As he watched, sickened, flames began to leap from the ground floor, fast and eager. Soon, the entire building was burning.
The Secret City Page 23