"Stop this at once!" She shouts at him. I realise that this one is a memory, not an hallucination, and just like in the original, I stand there uselessly. Ethan looks at me, pleading, but I have no idea what to do. Mrs. Page’s voice rises, and I see that she’s about to lose it. If she sends for the principle now, he’ll surely expel us. I turn to him and say, "You can do this. Just concentrate." I put my hand on his shoulder, and he nods. He takes a deep breath and places his hands into the mess of soap that’s soaking us now. The lights in the classroom flicker, and although it takes what feels like forever, the mess finally stops. He smiles with relief as I pat him on the back, and I’m pulled into blackness before I can see the outcome.
The sound of bone crunching draws my attention towards another familiar scene that materialises out of the darkness. A shriek that barely sounds human echoes around the brick walls that tower above me, and it occurs to me that the sound came out of my own mouth. A kick in my ribs makes me call out again and I realise I’m in excruciating pain, my assailants either laughing or cursing as they beat me.
"Augur scum," one spits a glob of mucus on my cheek.
"Freak!" shouts another as he lands a blow to my ear. I’m curled up in a ball on the pavement, my eyes darting around for any sign of help. What did I do to deserve this?
A figure stands stock still, mouth open, across the road from where I’m being attacked. Pain sears through my chest as I’m kicked again, and at that moment I realise that the person across the road is me. I’m the Augur kid that I failed to help all those weeks ago, and I’m being tortured by my own memory. Tears of regret stream down my cheeks, mixing with the spittle and blood.
"Stop," I say feebly.
"You don’t get to talk, vermin."
The feeling of energy suddenly courses through my arms and legs, like a nuclear reactor ready to explode. Wait. If I’m the Augur in this scenario, I have powers, right? The anger burns inside me and the street lamps above begin to flicker.
"I said STOP!" I scream. The men that had been attacking me fly backwards, pummelled by waves of ice that seem to be emanating from my body, pinning them to the ground with huge spear-like icicles.
Shakily, I get to my knees and survey my handiwork, but rather than feel satisfied, I feel even worse. The men who had been beating me are skewered in awkward positions. One is clearly dead, the spear of ice having driven right through his throat. The others are either dead or unconscious. I look back across the road to where my Normal self had been standing, but he seems to have scarpered.
A moan goes up from one of the men who is coming round. I crawl over to him and see with shock that one of my icicles has gone through his stomach. He won’t be alive for long. His phone fell out of his pocket as he landed and although I don’t know why I pick it up. The cracked screen lights up and a picture of a smiling girl, no older than eight, with a pretty woman makes me cry all over again.
"I’m sorry," I whisper to him.
"D-doesn’t matter," he replies, "all you Augurs will be dead soon." The final words are slurred as he passes out and the scene around me fades out.
I’m sitting in a black room. The chair is hard and cold beneath me, and all I see is a single lightbulb swinging above my head. It feels like one of those war prisoner interrogation rooms from the movies. I realise I must have been unconscious, and my head snaps up as a figure emerges from the shadows. What is this now? Not a memory. Is my torturing not over yet?
"Curtis Mayes," the voice belongs to a woman, and I glare into the darkness trying to make out her features. "Eighteen. No job, live with your parents, no qualifications, the usual." She sounds bored, like she’s reading a fact sheet about me, and I picture her holding one of those card Manila folders, although I can only make out her silhouette. "But in a relationship with Ella Cooper. Now that’s an interesting turn of events. How long have you known Ella for?" She asks sharply. I have no desire to answer her and I keep my mouth firmly shut. I don’t know if this is some kind of test or premonition, but in either scenario I know I wouldn’t say anything.
"Ah, a silent one. I love that. Means I get to play with you a little more. Did you know that your parents have been arrested at the airport? Turns out they’d gone away for just a week and their son was consorting with Augurs before they’d barely left the country. They claim to know nothing of it, but still, we can never be too careful now, can we?" This fills me with alarm, and the thought of my Dad being accused of associating with Augurs isn’t great. I picture him shouting, fists up, at anyone who might suggest he’d even knowingly speak to an Augur.
"I don’t know what you’re talking about," I croak. My throat is dry, and I sound like I haven’t spoken in days.
"Oh, I see. And your girlfriend that is currently being tortured downstairs who claims you were the one who drove her to use her powers —she’s lying, is she? Never met her before?" A photograph, a Polaroid shot obviously taken recently skids across the floor and stops at my feet. Although the face is bruised and the whole picture is a little bleached out there’s no mistaking her; that’s Ella, alright. The pain in my chest from seeing her like that is almost overwhelming.
"She didn’t do anything," I mutter, the tears stinging my eyes.
"I’m sorry, what was that?"
"She didn’t do ANYTHING!" I scream at her. "She’s innocent!"
"And how do you explain the one hundred and sixty deaths? Those people were innocent too. What about the families that lost their lives in that fire, Curtis?"
"I don’t know what you’re talking about." And it’s true; I feel like a lost child. I don’t know anything about a fire or deaths, yet some part of me feels like I should know.
"Those people would still be alive if you’d stopped her," says the woman. I’m fed up with this. I realise I need to change tack and get in control of whatever this mind game is.
"What’s your name?" I croak. She seems taken aback, although I can’t see her features in the gloom. I get the impression she’s narrowing her eyes.
"Trying to be clever, are we? Well, that won’t work with someone as experienced as me—"
"So, you’re experienced? You’ve done this lots of times before?" I ask, feigning curiosity.
"Don’t be cute with me, Curtis. You are in serious trouble and your girlfriend’s life is on the line—"
"Who do you work for?" I interrupt and aim the question directly at where I’d imagine her face to be.
"You can’t do this!" She spits. "I am the one asking the questions here," she says, but she doesn’t sound nearly as arrogant as before. I let myself smile, and my dry lips crack with the effort but I don’t care. I’ve managed to get under her skin and that for me is enough to know that I can get out of here if I piss her off enough.
"I can do whatever the hell I like. This is my mind."
Just as I finally feel the satisfaction of having won a round of this weird game I feel a tugging sensation in my back and my eyes shoot open. I’m standing back in the Duke’s study surrounded by unfriendly faces. I almost wish I was back in the nightmare than here. I blink a few times and Mumbe’s face comes into focus, a hint of a smile on his face.
"He passed. He even got through Miss Banks," he says to the room. A few gasps and whispers escape from the crowd. I hear a sigh of relief from Ella who’s standing just a few feet from us. She walks over and throws her arms around my neck, her mouth just a few millimetres from my ear.
"Well done, I knew you could do it," she whispers. It’s only now I’m back in the real world I realise I’ve been sweating. And crying. I wipe the dampness from my cheeks and turn to the Duke, who seems to quickly mask his look of surprise with a well-rehearsed smile.
"Very good, Curtis. You may have a seat," he waves to a small couch near his desk and we sit down. "You’ve passed one of our toughest tests. Mumbe is an Augur skilled at creating dreams and hallucinations so real that the person feels like they’ve been transported to another time and place. Miss Banks is one of the h
ardest, as she is very much a real and formidable enemy for us. I’m pleased to hear you passed with flying colours," he slaps his hand down on the opulent desk.
"I k-killed people," I say numbly, recalling the feeling of being an Augur for just a few moments.
"Ah, very good. If anything, the experience will serve to show you the kind of dilemmas that Augurs must go through every day. I, of course, don’t know what memories your mind contains but I can assure you that if you were given the choice between your life or another Normal’s, the choice is not so simple."
The Duke was right. Suddenly my respect for the restraint that Augurs could show had gone up a million notches. I sighed heavily, wanting nothing more than to curl up in a ball and go to sleep. Although the pain from the incidents were gone, it was clear that I had been crying as I could feel the salt drying on my cheeks. I probably looked a mess too.
"But I must warn you," the Duke continued, "that everything you hear here today, and every face you see, must be kept in complete confidence. We can only assume that your... feelings for one of our members is enough to enforce that, but mark my words, if I find out that any information has leaked, you will be the first to be suspected, and you will be severely dealt with." I think the gulp in my throat can be heard throughout the room. It looks like he’s expecting me to say something but as my mouth is suddenly very dry I just nod stupidly. That seems to satisfy him, and his attention turns to the papers laid out in front of him. "Well, to business. You found the drive I assume?" The Duke asks Ella. She nods, but doesn’t present it, which I find strange.
"Very good," he says, looking relieved. "I’m sure that you have put it somewhere safer than a walk-in refrigerator," he says to her, and she nods. I know for a fact that it’s in her pocket, but I keep my mouth shut.
"Ladies and Gentlemen of the Society, we have been attacked as you have probably all gathered by now. The culprit set fire to Gregorio’s this afternoon during business hours in an attempt to recover a flash drive. The information on this drive is of an extremely sensitive nature. It contains all of the files that Carlton Munday has accumulated on Augurs over the decades, details of the government experiments that have taken place over the past thirty years, as well as information that would incriminate Munday if ever leaked."
"Sir, does it prove that he’s an Augurist?" someone piped up. A wiry woman in her mid twenties with short spiky hair and ripped jeans. She looks just as out of place in this space as I feel, but somehow she manages to appear as relaxed as if she’s in her own home.
"No, Lou, it doesn’t. Not conclusively anyway, but that is my next order of business for this evening’s meeting." There’s a suspenseful silence, and I feel the tension in the room rise.
"If we can prove that he is even remotely associated with the horrors of the Facility, then we can discredit him in the press and turn this tidal wave to our advantage. Munday and the Prime Minister are meeting with the Cabinet tomorrow to fully delineate what anti-Augur laws will be passed. We need to expose him before then, firstly to ensure that the meeting doesn’t go ahead and secondly to hopefully have him removed from post. The only person who has actually seen the contents of the drive is Federico, but last we spoke he assured me that he had everything he needed on there. Unfortunately, what he did not have was a credible connection to someone who could do anything with the information. It seems we were almost too late and somehow someone found out what we were trying to do, or at least suspected it.
"Ella, I want you to go to the hospital and check on Federico. With Gregorio’s closed for several months, it looks like you, Gregorio and Federico, when he’s recovered, will have a bit of time on your hands. Without Marco and Giovanni, I’m counting on you right now. You’ll be able to do some legwork and help us move things along at a much faster rate now, and I’d like you to report all of your progress directly to me."
"But, sir," Ella pipes up, "shouldn’t I be finding a reliable source to give the information to? I want to see that Federico is okay, of course, but it feels like time is of the essence here."
"You are quite right, of course. But rather than put you anywhere near the limelight, I will have to have someone else do that particular dirty work. Lou," he addresses the girl lounging on a sofa again, "I’m going to need you to prepare our contact." She nods as if she knows exactly what he’s talking about, though I’m none the wiser. "Before tomorrow is over, we will have Carlton Munday exactly where we want him," the Duke says with an air of finality. Just as much as the other people in the room seem to be tense with excitement, I feel a bag of nerves. A shiver runs down my back, as if something terrible is bound to happen.
An urgent knocking breaks through the quiet. Lou, as I now know her, walks over and slides the bolts out of place and opens the door to a very flustered looking Mulberry.
"Sir, it’s the Magic Circle. They’ve set fire to Downing Street."
CHAPTER 8
At first there’s a deep silence as the horrific news sets in. The Duke himself seems to be somewhat stunned but recovers enough to move. Picking up a remote control from his desk, he points it at a wooden panel which promptly slides open to reveal a television screen. It comes on immediately, and a news reporter confirms what Mulberry had said.
"...fear and panic across central London as police work to both evacuate the area and track down those responsible. So far, there are three dead and a further ten who have been taken to hospital in critical condition. It has been confirmed that the Prime Minister is amongst those in intensive care as well as the deputy Prime Minister, leaving many to ask what’s next for our country in response to this horrific attack. This is Bill Manford, BBC News." The screen flips back to a shot of the news studio where a clean cut and serious anchorman catches the audience up with the events. He shows images of both before and shortly after the start of the fire, which apparently began with a small explosion in the back of the building. How do they know it’s the Magic Circle? I wonder to myself right before he answers that question. If the CCTV images of hooded men or women entering the street a few minutes before the explosion, hands glowing with energy, aren’t enough, there’s a final snapshot of the room interior where the fire started.
The flames have been dowsed, and underneath them on a wall of what looks like the PM’s office, a message can be made out. From the way it’s been written, the culprits were in a hurry, the letters uneven and plastered across a painting that is all but unrecognisable now:
YOU WILL BE PUNISHED
Underneath, there’s the crude symbol of a magician’s hat which I already know as the Magic Circle's calling card.
There are mutters from the members of the room, and I know they're saying what I'm thinking: how the hell are we going to stop Augur discrimination now? I silently note that I’m already thinking of myself as ‘we’ —me and them together rather than it being just their problem. If anything, the Magic Circle have made it worse, causing people to hate Augurs even more.
The Duke, evidently trying to keep his cool but failing to hide his frustration, turns the television off. "It seems we'll have to act faster than I previously thought. Ella, go now. Take Jer with you and let me know what Federico can tell us about the attack. I think I'm going to have to send a healer or two to the hospital in the hopes of drumming up some Augur sympathy, if it's not too late for that already." He sighs, and with a wave of his hand Ella, the young man I can only assume is Jer, and I are motioned out of the room. I grab my phone from the bowl on the way out, and Mulberry, his austere demeanour slightly shaken, retrieves our coats and Jer's jacket.
When we step out of the opulent town house and back onto the London streets, the cold seems to pass right through me. I look at Ella and notice Jer is doing the same; all eyes are on her.
"Well, this is a right pickle," Jer says, his Dublin accent being the first thing I notice. "Ella, I know it's not the best of circumstances, but do you want to introduce me to your boyfriend?" he says to her, smiling at me. I find that in sp
ite of myself I'm smiling back. Maybe this Irish charm thing is doing its magic on me.
"Oh, sorry, of course. Jer, this is Curtis, Curtis, Jer," she gestures, and he holds out a hand for me to shake it.
"Terrific to meet you, so it is," he says, and I get another flash of his white teeth.
"Likewise, mate," I say and give him a grin of my own.
"So, Ells, looks like you're calling the shots in our little party. Want to tell me where we're going?" Jer asks as we turn to walk back towards the tube station.
"Federico is currently in St Guy's hospital, but I imagine he might be under police protection if they've managed to work out that the restaurant fire was an attack in an effort to get to him, which no doubt they have. So, we'll have to be really clever about how we go about visiting, not giving them any reason to be suspicious. I don’t have a clue when visiting hours are, and if he's in intensive care we probably won't be able to see him for a while, but let's get over there first and cross that bridge when we come to it." We descend the tube for another thirty-minute ride to St James’s Park. It’s obvious that after the attack on Downing Street Westminster station will be closed, so we’ll have to walk along the river to get to the hospital. Jer mentions that he was planning to come round to mine later and see if he can sniff out anything dodgy as regards my weird nicotine addict neighbour, but under the circumstances we may have to put that on hold. I wave my hand and tell him not to worry about it as there's already enough on everyone's plates, but he promises me that if the evening works out then he'll still come over, which makes me like him even more. He seems to be a genuinely likeable guy and easy to get on with.
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