Something makes a muffled grunting noise behind me, but I can’t twist round to see what it is. The grunting comes again, this time sounding like a tired moan. I know that sound: it’s the sound Toby makes when Mrs Fraser presents him with a massive stack of books to shelve five minutes before the end-of-lunch bell rings.
‘Toby?’ I whisper. He must be right behind, bound and propped up on the mattress just like me. I try to shuffle backwards so that I can poke him.
‘Too early, Mum …’ he mumbles in response, clearly still asleep. ‘Just a few more minutes, please …’
I’m slowly starting to realise that we’re not in a pitch-black void. There’s a window on one side of the room, and even though it’s been blacked out with a heavy blind or curtain, there’s a tiny aura of light that just peeks through, creating a frame in the darkness.
I try to remember exactly what happened when the window shattered, and how we could have possibly ended up here, wherever ‘here’ is. It must have been Jay, but he couldn’t have caused all that snow and ice with his powers alone. He must have friends. And what’s with the sleeping thing? Did he drug us?
‘Toby!’ I try again.
‘Louise?’ he mumbles back at me.
‘Wake up!’ I hiss.
I can tell that he’s shifting on the mattress, trying to get comfortable.
‘I’m tied up!’ Toby says as he gains awareness.
‘I know. I am too,’ I tell him.
‘Am I blind?’
‘No … it’s just really dark in here. Are you OK? Is anything hurt?’
‘No, I don’t think so. What about you?’
‘I think I’m OK. We must have been knocked out somehow, or drugged. I have no idea where we are.’
‘What the hell’s going on, Louise? What is all of this?’
I’m struggling to think of a way to explain this other than with the truth, but after so many years of training myself into keeping secrets, it’s not easy to let everything go just like that.
‘I told you that I thought Jay was a bad guy …’ is all I can think to say.
There’s more movement, kind of like Toby’s bouncing around behind me.
‘What are you doing?’ I hiss, scared that I’m going to tumble over onto my side and won’t be able to get back up again.
‘Trying to escape,’ Toby replies, although what I really think he’s doing is causing a whole lot of commotion for nothing.
He shuffles, and I can imagine him contorting himself with his hands and ankles bound. There’s a tumble and an audible ‘Ooof’ as he crashes to the floor. By the sound of it, it’s a hard one.
‘Are you all right?’ I ask.
‘Yes. Maybe … probably not,’ he moans from his new position.
I think the racket Toby’s making has alerted our captors. A door creaks and opens, the light slicing through the darkness. Now I can see we’re in a bedroom. Stark, but also somehow messy, as if someone’s just moved in and hasn’t unpacked their stuff yet. Toby’s on the floor on his back, but he’s worked his hands out in front of him and is already starting to pick at the bindings on his ankle.
‘Greetings and salutations!’ Jay comes into the room and flicks on the light switch, casting the whole room in a glare that hurts my unadjusted eyes.
‘Jay! What’s going on? Where’s Erica?’ I ask, twisting myself round on the bed so that I can face him.
‘Now, Louise, is that a nice way to talk to your host? You are guests here at my pleasure, so be nice.’ He swans into the room, still wearing that wretched black trench coat, his hair oiled back away from his face. ‘Now, let me introduce you to my friends, as I don’t think you’ve been properly acquainted yet.’
Two more people come into the tiny bedroom. One of them looks like an American hip-hop gangster, complete with gold chains and a red bandana wrapped around his head. He looks a bit like a cartoon character, or like someone who has chosen a rapper as their fancy-dress inspiration. Except that he doesn’t look amused by his choice of dress. He’s sullen and angry, and I can imagine tense little eyes behind his dark sunglasses. The other one is a woman, tall and slim and wearing far too much blue eyeshadow. Her hair is cut pixie-short and is bleached brilliant white, and she has about ten different piercings in each ear, plus another one in her nose.
‘Louise, Toby, please meet my good friends Dozer and Blizz.’
‘Are they Vigils too?’ I ask, which for some reason makes them all laugh hysterically, like I’ve just said the funniest thing in the world. Toby turns abruptly to look at me with an expression on his face that says, WHAT?!?!?!
‘No, sweetheart, we are not the Vigils.’ The woman, Blizz, has an Eastern European accent.
‘I get to meet lots of fine folk on my travels scouting for new recruits,’ Jay explains. ‘Sometimes I come across young people like Erica, who are perfect for the club, and sometimes –’ he pauses – ‘I find others who are less suited.’
I glance towards Toby, whose face is a mix of elated fascination and terror. I can only imagine what he’s thinking right now.
‘So what’s going on? Why have you kidnapped us?’ I ask, surprised at the bravery in my own voice.
‘Well, Louise, seeing as you were so desperate to be involved with everything earlier, I thought it was about time that we let you in. Turns out that you might be of use to us after all. So just sit tight and relax. We’re going out to get some supplies, but we’ll be back later. Dozer here will keep you company.’
Jay makes that face, a smirk that might otherwise look cute and mischievous, but now just looks strange and sadistic. The white-haired woman, Blizz, follows him out of the room, leaving us with the gangster rapper.
‘Is Dozer your codename?’ I ask him.
‘Louise …’ Toby hisses at me, wanting me to shut up, but I’m determined to figure out what exactly is happening, and this Dozer guy might be able to provide some answers.
‘I ain’t saying nothin’ to you,’ he replies. ‘I’m just here to make sure you stay sweet and quiet. Ya hear me?’
‘We hear you!’ Toby says quickly before giving me another angry look.
‘Just tell us what your power is, and then I’ll be quiet.’
‘You already seen it. Put you to sleep like you a baby.’
‘You put us to sleep?’ Toby says, stunned. ‘Like, you knocked us out?’
‘Nah, man. Gotta look me in the eyes, innit.’
‘Oh, so you’re Dozer like dozing off to sleep? That’s a pretty neat name,’ I say.
‘S’all right.’ He pauses to think. ‘I’m gonna close this door now. Don’t be doing nothin’ stupid.’
The door closes, then locks, and Toby scoots round on his bum so that he’s looking at me. I suppose now is the time for explaining everything then. He stares at me expectantly.
‘So there’s something I haven’t told you …’ I start.
‘Ya think?’ Toby sighs.
‘So you remember Flamegirl?’ I look at him. Of course he remembers Flamegirl. ‘Well, turns out that she’s actually Erica.’
‘Our Erica?’
‘Yup. Erica Elland is Flamegirl. And Jay was inducting her into the Vigils, except something has gone really wrong and I don’t quite understand it and now we’re caught up in it too.’ Toby just continues staring at me. ‘So now you know.’
I think his eyes are about to bulge out of his head. ‘You’re kidding me?’
‘Nope. Definitely not kidding you. Definitely tied up right now by the bad guy.’
‘No, but seriously, you’re really not kidding me?’
‘Toby!’
‘Right. OK then.’ He stares at the floor. I can practically see the cogs of his brain turning, processing this new and unbelievable information. Then he turns back to me. ‘Is that Jay guy going to kill us?’
‘Hopefully not?’ I offer.
‘So Jay goes around recruiting new Vigils? Is that what he said he does? And sometimes he finds people that aren’t su
itable, which I suppose makes sense, because not everybody who has superpowers has to be a good guy, I guess … So is he trying to put together a troupe of anti-Vigils? Hey, he could call them the Vigil-Antis!’
‘Do you think he might have been trying to get Erica onside?’ I ask, tactfully ignoring his joke, because really this is no time for puns.
‘Well, I think you could be right about Erica being in trouble,’ Toby concedes. He suddenly seems remarkably OK about everything, and I wonder if he’s just putting on a brave face but is actually totally freaking out on the inside.
‘But what does he want? What’s he doing?’
I slump back against the wall. I’m so uncomfortable from having my hands tied up behind my back. Especially as I have an itch on my nose. I try to snub it out on my shoulder, but I can’t quite get at it. Then I notice Toby moving awkwardly, jerking about on the wooden floor like he might be having a fit.
‘Er … What are you doing?’ I ask.
‘Just trying to get something …’ He scoots and slides and contorts his arms until finally he can reach inside the pocket of his jeans. Carefully he eases out a Swiss Army knife.
‘What the hell?’ I start, amazed.
‘Shh!’ he hisses. ‘I was going to be working on another one of my Vigil models today, and sometimes there’s some delicate work that needs doing, so I had it handy. Now keep quiet, otherwise Mr Dozey outside will hear us!’
Toby fiddles until he has the knife within his hands, and then fiddles around even more until he has the main blade out. Then he shuffles forward on his knees until he’s sitting right in front of me. I turn my back to him and hold my bound hands out and slowly, carefully, he cuts at the plastic.
‘You are a genius,’ I whisper as finally my hands are free.
I quickly take the pocket knife from Toby and cut all of his binds free before he returns the favour by releasing my legs. I feel as if I’ve been holding my breath this entire time and it’s only now that my lungs can work properly. Toby hides the knife back in his pocket; we both agree that we should keep its existence a secret for as long as possible.
‘Right, so, next job involves unlocking the door. But what are we going to do about Dozey?’ Toby says as we stretch out our arms and legs, shaking off the tension.
‘Is there anything in here we can hit him with?’ I ask, looking around the room.
‘We can’t actually hurt him, can we?’
‘Hey,’ I ponder. ‘I wonder what happens when he looks in a mirror. Do you think he sends himself to sleep?’
‘Or maybe he’s like Medusa, and the only way we can look at him without turning to stone – or falling asleep, in this case – is by looking at his reflection.’
I glance around the room and see a small vanity mirror on the desk. It might be what we need to get out of here. I can hold it up in front of me like a shield the moment Dozer tries to put me to sleep. I don’t know how his power works exactly, but it doesn’t seem like a better plan is going to come along any time soon.
As I look more closely around the room, I come to the realisation that this must be Jay’s bedroom, and the vanity mirror is what he uses to fix his hair in the morning. My first thought is Ewww, because I’ve been sitting on this creep’s bed and I’m trapped in here, and somehow that thought has a weird potency. But when I look around properly I realise how sad Jay’s life must be. There’s the desk in the corner, above which are tacked various doodles and sketches, all in the same deep-blue ink. I guess he must have created them with his photocopying powers. But other than that, there’s basically no decoration. Most of his stuff is piled in crates and boxes, and there’s very little inside his wardrobe. Even the light bulb above us is bare.
‘So if you get to do the mirror thing, then I totally get to do the door thing,’ Toby says, reaching back into his pocket for the penknife.
‘Are you going to actually pick the lock like a burglar?’ I ask, incredulous.
‘You have another idea?’
‘It’s not that I doubt the validity of the plan, I just doubt your ability as a burglar. Have you ever picked a lock before?’
‘No. But I have watched a ridiculous amount of films and television. And that can’t all be made-up, right? I’ve seen it done so many times. It can’t be that hard.’ He kneels down in front of the lock and fiddles about with various blades of the knife. ‘There doesn’t happen to be a paperclip on that desk anywhere, does there?’
I hand him a paperclip I find in the top drawer of the desk. It’s a disorganised mess of a man drawer, crammed with receipts and AA batteries, pens and, bizarrely, a digestive biscuit. As Toby continues fiddling, his brow set with concentration, I search through the other drawers to see if there’s anything else I can use for our daring escape. I don’t know what good a USB cable or a roll of gaffer tape will do, but I stuff them in my pocket anyway.
There’s an audible click and I realise that Toby’s obsessive box-set binging has paid off. I watch him turn the handle and then slowly ease the door open.
‘Do you have the mirror?’ he whispers.
I do. I creep out in front of him, holding the mirror out in front.
From the corridor we can hear the TV on in the front room, and Dozer chatting, presumably on the phone, in his gangster slang. Imagining that I’m as brave as Theseus, with wings on my shoes to lighten my steps on the creaking floorboards, I edge forward, tilting the mirror so that I can see around the corner. Toby creeps behind me, and even though I can’t see him, I can sense his panic.
There’s Dozer. He’s lounging on the sofa, legs sprawled out in front and chatting into a phone while the TV blares. I guess that’s why he hasn’t heard us. All I have to do is catch him off-guard, get in his line of sight and reflect his power when he tries to use it on me. Easy, right? There’s sweat on my temples and I’m biting my lips. I feel as if my ninja skills have deserted me.
I creep, until finally I know I have to lunge.
That thing they say about everything going so fast it’s a blur? Well, it’s just like that. I’m moving forward and he’s jumping up, and then instead of my fabulous reflecting plan happening, I instinctively go to use the mirror like a bat, reaching around to hit him and hoping that I can knock him back. I’m thinking that I’m an idiot, and what kind of ridiculous little girl attempts to do something this audacious to a man nearly triple her size, when I sense something moving behind me. Then suddenly there’s a vase, complete with flowers, crashing down on Dozer’s head, sending him thundering to the floor.
‘Oh my God, what happened?’ I ask. Even though my hands are shaking, I can’t let go of the mirror.
‘I saw a vase …’ Toby says, out of breath and obviously a little bit in shock himself. ‘I just went for it!’
Dozer is completely out. On a nearby coffee table I see a bag stuffed with the same kind of plastic ties that were used on me and Toby, so we use them to secure the big guy to the radiator. We replace his sunglasses, then use the gaffer tape and gag him in case he wakes and can use his voice to send us to sleep too. We pause over our handiwork, still breathing hard and shaking, but all in all, it’s a job well done.
‘Now what?’ Toby asks.
‘We need to get to Vigil headquarters and tell them what’s going on,’ I say.
‘Great. First, though, I need the loo.’
Toby disappears and I survey the scene. I’m a little bit annoyed by the soil and bits of flower and plant that are all over the floor (it seems so unnecessarily messy), but I’ll just have to get over it.
‘Erm … Louise?’ Toby calls from down the corridor. ‘You’d better get down here.’
I roll my eyes. I’m really not in the mood for one of Toby’s silly toilet jokes, but I decide to go and investigate because I figure that he probably isn’t in the mood for one of his jokes either. He’s standing in the doorway to the bathroom, staring at something with disbelief. I assume that it must be a spider or something, another thing I’m really not in the m
ood for, but when I can see in, I share his shock.
It’s Erica.
She’s frozen solid like a statue. She’s standing upright in the bathtub, propped against the tiled wall, looking unharmed but ice cold and still. My fingers slide over the slippery leather-like material of her suit. On her blue-tinged face is a perfect frozen tear, a tiny polished crystal on her cheek. Her defensive stance, legs ready to run and palms out, heightens the uncanny spectacle. I touch my own palm to hers, but quickly remove it. The cold burns.
‘Is she dead?’ Toby stutters, still standing back in the bathroom doorway.
‘I don’t know,’ I mutter, eyes fixed on Erica as I try to contain my shock and fear. Could she be dead? Or is this just some kind of freaky superhero magic? ‘I know that she heals pretty fast, but what if she’s too cold? This must be what that Blizz lady can do. She freezes stuff, like your windows earlier. She must have frozen Erica solid.’
‘Should we try to defrost her?’ he asks.
I reach up to touch Erica’s hair, but back off again, fearing it might crack and shatter under my touch. Her eyes are open, which is the most painful thing, because she looks terrified. How could she have let this happen? She can’t have been like this for long; she only texted me this morning. Maybe Jay found out that she had been in touch and this was her punishment.
‘Can you go and fill up a kettle?’ I say to Toby, Sensible Mode overriding my panic as I turn on the hot tap and realise that it’s running cold. ‘Maybe see if you can find the boiler and check that it’s on? We need lots of hot water. And I’m going to see if I can find a hairdryer or something.’
Toby goes off to the kitchen, which frankly is a bit more like a large cupboard in this horrible little flat, and I go back into the room where we were held captive, hoping that Jay’s vanity and reliance on hair products means that he’ll have a hairdryer. He does. It’s old and the fan at the back is all furred up, but after I plug it in I’m relieved to see that it still works. I’m pleased to see that there’s a plug socket right outside the bathroom door, but when I stretch the cord I realise that it’s not going to reach far enough. If I can shuffle Erica along to the other end of the bath, the end nearest the door, then maybe it will.
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