P.N.E. (The Wolfblood Prophecies Book 4)

by Silk, Avril

  ‘Alithea! Thank goodness! There’s something wrong with Mary – I mean, Miss Montgomery. She appears to have lost her memory. My ability alone is not sufficient to undo what has happened. Maybe together we can succeed.’

  Ali sprang to her feet, knocking her bag to the floor as she did so. She glared at her sister. ‘Is this your doing?’ she demanded.

  ‘I have no idea what you’re talking about,’ drawled Lethe.

  Ali looked dubious but let it drop. She turned to Matthew. ‘Where is Miss Montgomery?’

  ‘I’m not sure. I found her in her lab and she didn’t seem to recognise me or remember anything. I tried talking to her, but she looked terrified, knocked me over and ran away. Now I can’t find her anywhere. ’

  As Ali followed Professor Jamieson to the door a thought struck her. She turned to Lethe. ‘I’m supposed to meet Paul later. In case I’m held up…’ She scribbled a message and folded it over. ’Could you make yourself useful for once and put this note in his pigeon-hole?’

  ‘It will be my pleasure,’ purred Lethe. ‘You ask so graciously.’

  ‘Thank you,’ Ali muttered grudgingly, and followed an increasingly impatient Professor Jamieson.

  It was obvious that Lethe couldn’t see Jo either. Confident that she was alone, Lethe gingerly picked up Ali’s patchwork bag and looked inside. She opened the tobacco tin and read her father’s letter to Ali, her face tightening. She found Ali’s pen and carefully copying Zachary Lake’s handwriting, vindictively added Lethe after my dear daughter, then put it back in the envelope.

  As she rummaged in Ali’s bag she was surprised to find The Whale. Her eyes danced with mischief as she wrote in the flyleaf, then slipped the book into her own elegant Courrèges bag.

  Then Lethe read the slip of paper Ali had given her. It read: Meet me by moonlight where the willow weeps and the river bends.

  For a moment she was lost in thought, then laughing to herself, she tucked it into her pocket, found another scrap of paper, and using Ali’s pen carefully wrote Meet me at sunset where the willow weeps and the river bends.

  Finally her gaze fell on the reviled rainbow scarf. A look of cunning calculation crossed her face, and with a malicious smile she put it in her bag, along with the despised perfume, and set off to deliver Ali’s message.

  Chapter Fourteen - The River

  The sun was setting in a blaze of gold and crimson. The air was warm and still; fragrant with the perfume of vanilla and cherry pie from the white and violet heliotrope flowers that grew in abundance near the elm grove. Luminous green fireflies darted in the shadows, shining like the stars that were appearing in the evening sky.

  ‘I’m going to have a snooze for an hour,’ announced Matthew. Since his failure to avert Mary Montgomery’s fate he looked old and tired. He tried to summon up some enthusiasm. ‘Then when it’s properly dark, we’ll go exploring. Find out what skulduggery Titus is up to.’

  ‘I know I’m not a mighty brain,’ said Jo tentatively, ‘but since no-one can see us we don’t have to wait until dark. We could go now.’

  ‘Technically you’re right, of course, but however illogical it is, I’d be happier to act under cover of darkness. In addition, I am not as young as I was, so I need a nap. Why don’t you get some rest as well?’

  ‘I’m not sleepy,’ replied Jo. ‘I think I’ll go for a walk. It’s a beautiful evening.’

  ‘Don’t wander too far,’ warned Matthew. ‘It will soon be dark and we don’t have a torch.’

  ‘It’s a full moon. I’ll be fine,’ replied Jo, and she set off purposefully. She knew exactly where she wanted to go. She was almost completely resigned to the probability that she couldn’t change a thing, but that didn’t stop her hoping.

  She could see the river ahead, reflecting the glorious colours of the sunset. She took one of several narrow, twisting paths leading down to the river bank. It was the sound of sobbing that led her off the path into the trees.

  Curled up on the ground lay Mary Montgomery, trembling and child-like. Her face was full of fear and bewilderment. She started when she saw Jo.

  ‘Leave me alone!’

  Jo was taken aback. ‘You can see me?’ she queried, realising too late that her response would only add to Mary’s confusion.

  There was just a flash of the old Mary. ‘Unfortunately. You look just like her…’ then the fog returned.

  ‘But I’m not her! I’m your friend!’

  Mary stared at Jo, her eyes dull and uncomprehending. ‘What’s happening to me?’ she said, almost to herself.

  Jo moved closer. ‘I know someone who can help,’ she said. ‘Please come with me…’ She stretched out her hand to help Mary to her feet.

  ‘Don’t touch me!’ Mary sprang up like a wild animal, knocking Jo to the ground. Jo landed awkwardly. By the time she struggled up, winded and grazed, Mary was gone.

  The encounter with Mary meant Jo took longer than she expected to locate the magnificent willow tree. It was silhouetted against the rapidly darkening sky; its graceful branches cascading to the ground. She could hear two people laughing and talking softly.

  ‘Red roses and champagne, Paul! So romantic!’

  ‘I wanted tonight to be special, Ali.’

  ‘It was wonderful.’

  Paul spoke hesitantly. ‘I was surprised… I thought you wanted to wait…’

  ‘Are you sorry?’

  ‘God, no! Not at all. I’m even more certain that we are meant to be together. So I need to ask you properly…’

  Paul never finished his sentence. Someone crashed angrily through the bushes and swore loudly.

  ‘Lethe – what in hell’s name are you playing at?’

  Paul laughed. ‘Hey, Quinn – don’t lose it, man. You’ve got it all wrong. This is Ali, not Lethe. I have no idea where Lethe is.’

  Quinn’s voice was grim. ‘Well, I do. She’s right here buttoning her bloody blouse and Ali is with Professor Jamieson. I just met them looking for Miss Montgomery.’

  Paul laughed again, but there was an edge of anxiety. ‘Wrong way round, man. Tell him, sweetheart.’

  ‘Don’t waste your breath, Lethe.’ Quinn’s words were icy. ‘You might fool Paul but you don’t fool me. You really are a piece of work.’

  ‘You’re way out of line,’ protested Paul, but Quinn ignored him.

  ‘I’ve been such an idiot. You never really wanted me, did you? You just want whatever Ali has. If she had yellow fever, you’d want it too. Well, she’s worth a dozen of you. Biggest mistake of my life when I dumped her for you. Paul, you’re a lucky bastard. Don’t blow it, man. As for you, Lethe, you’re a total bitch and we’re through.’

  With that, Quinn strode away, seething with rage and hurt. In the moonlight Jo could just make out that he was carrying a picnic basket, champagne and strings of fairy lights.

  Paul’s voice was uneasy but he still refused to accept Quinn’s version of events. ‘Ali, we’d better find Lethe and warn her so she can sort this out.’

  Just then another voice could be heard calling. ‘Paul! Are you still there?’

  ‘What the …? That sounds like Ali.’ Paul spoke slowly, his voice laced with dread as realisation finally dawned. ‘Oh my God. Quinn was right! What have we done?’

  Lethe laughed. ‘Made wild, passionate love, darling. Oh, I almost forgot. Ali asked me to give you this note…’

  Paul looked as if he’d met an avalanche head on. ‘You set me up, Lethe. Ali’s scarf – her perfume… Why the hell would you do that?’

  ‘Pure pleasure, Paul. On so many levels. I have seen, to quote Melville, the tiger heart that pants beneath your placid exterior. Unlike my dear sister, who thinks you are a gentle lap cat.’

  ‘Are you going to tell her?’ Paul was distraught.

  ‘Are you? I suppose you could confess – and break her heart. Why don’t we keep it as our little secret? I promise I will never, ever breathe a word, unless you are foolish enough to make me really cross. I don’
t advise that.’

  There was the sound of someone pushing through the foliage. ‘I took the wrong path,’ called Ali, much closer now.

  ‘Time I wasn’t here. Must fly. Oh – you’d better take this hideous scarf. Tell her you found it in the library. It will explain why you smell of patchouli. I’m sure she’ll appreciate the roses, and I think there’s some champagne left. EnjoyThe Whale! Bye, lover-boy.’

  A minute or so after Lethe had vanished into the shadows Ali appeared. She stood in a pool of moonlight, luminous and lovely, wearing a gauzy silver beaded shawl over a midnight blue dress sprinkled with tiny starry silver sequins. Jo had never seen her look so beautiful or so happy.

  ‘I’m glad you’re still here, Paul … sorry I’m so late! Miss Montgomery’s not well and I was helping Professor Jamieson look for her. He’s very worried about her.’ Ali chattered away, not noticing how silent Paul was. ‘Sweetheart, I am so sorry about this afternoon. Come here.’

  There was a pause, during which Ali kissed Paul passionately. As they sank to the ground Jo could no longer see them. She was about to tiptoe away when she heard her mother gasp with surprise. ‘Good Lord! The Whale! Where on earth did that come from? I lost that book years ago! I always thought Lethe nicked it.’

  Jo could sense her father’s desperation. Wisely he opted for something very like the truth. ‘She did. She pretended it was hers and gave it to me,’ he mumbled, his voice wretched.

  ‘Bloody cheek! Typical Lethe. Too tight to buy her own presents.’ Ali was too happy to be downcast for long. ‘Oh, I see you’ve started on the champagne, my impatient Romeo. And what beautiful roses. I take back everything I said, Paul. This is so romantic!’

  Jo stumbled away feeling sick to her stomach. She hated being a helpless observer. It seemed there was nothing she or Matthew could do to change the course of events.

  It was too painful to think of her parents’ joy betrayed so completely by Lethe. Jo veered wildly between thinking that, on the one hand, Paul should never reveal what had happened and on the other, he should trust Ali with the truth and should make a clean breast of it. She could dimly sense the hell he was in, caught between terrible truth and dreadful deception. Each time Jo opted for truth she saw again her mother’s innocent, joyful face and realised Paul was incapable of cruelly ruining her happiness that night by revealing the trap Lethe had set. Maybe it would be easier another time.

  However hard she tried, Jo could not fathom her aunt’s behaviour. Meanness on such a scale was breath-taking, yet somehow pointless. What on earth did Lethe want, other than to punish Ali for the death of their father by spoiling everything she loved? Such cruelty was beyond Jo’s comprehension. As she struggled with understanding Lethe’s motivation, something nagged at the edge of Jo’s memory. An image came first – a huge silver dragonfly – no – a helicopter, with her aunt, shot and bleeding, near death, dangling broken from a rope ladder. And the message she believed to be her dying words: Jo, you have a brother. You have to find him. Find your brother.

  Now Jo began to understand. Lethe didn’t want Paul She wanted Paul’s child. She was hell-bent on creating a chimera, pandering to Titus’s quest for the prophesied Child of Glory. Paul just happened to fit the bill. Betraying her sister was a bonus.

  Jo’s mind was racing now, remembering all she had heard about the brother she had never known. Somewhere along the line Ali had discovered the truth about Lethe’s sexual entrapment of Paul. Jo had no idea when that had happened. She could only imagine how terrible the discovery of the seduction and conception must have been for Ali. She remembered overhearing a bitter quarrel between her aunt and her mother.

  ‘You are hardly fit to lecture me on child-rearing, Lethe. Your record in that area is abysmal. What kind of mother rejects her own baby?’

  ‘The child was sub-standard. I had no choice.’

  ‘Of course you had a choice. And there was nothing wrong with your baby.’

  ‘Your narrow terms of reference limit your understanding. The child was a mistake, and the father I selected was, on consideration, inadequate in every way.’

  ‘You bitch. You bloody bitch.’

  With all her heart Jo wished she could have spared her parents such pain and loss. For her part, she thought she would have enjoyed growing up with her half-brother. Sometime she felt keenly the loss, before birth, of her twin.

  Perhaps if I’d reached the tree earlier she agonised. Maybe I could have stopped them. Then she remembered The Whale. All her efforts to use the book to change the future were in vain.

  Chapter Fifteen - Intelligence

  Matthew was still sleeping when Jo returned. She was tempted to sit down by him and sleep herself, in the hope that together they could dream their way back home. Then she remembered how keen Matthew was to see what Titus was plotting. He might not be able to foil Titus’s plans in 1964, but in the future he might be able to use the knowledge gained to outwit his enemy.

  ‘Wake up, Matthew. Time to do some sleuthing.’ Matthew opened his eyes. He took a few moments to register where he was, then he smiled.

  ‘Did you have a pleasant walk?’

  ‘I’ve had better,’ answered Jo laconically. She changed the subject. ‘Matthew, I want you to promise me that after we’ve checked on the laboratories, we can go home.’

  ‘I promise,’ he replied. ‘I’m missing Mary dreadfully and I know you’re worried about your parents.’

  Jo had been grappling with a problem. ‘We are still there, aren’t we? As well as being here?’ Mary’s not looking at an empty bed wondering where you are…’

  ‘She’s probably looking at me thinking it’s about time I woke up and stopped snoring. Back there we’re fast asleep. Our bodies have stayed put but our minds have hitched a lift with the dream to here. As I understand it, eight hours sleep a night equates to roughly eight days of dream-time. So no-one’s going to raise any alarms. We’ve plenty of time.’

  ‘Maybe. But I’m longing to get back, so let’s get on with it!’

  ‘This is so spooky,’ Jo whispered. They were making their way through the deserted fairground guided only by the light of the moon and the emergency lights. ‘I wish we had a torch.’ Another thought struck her. ‘And I wish we had some Wellington boots!’

  ‘Why is that?’ queried Matthew.

  ‘We’ll have to paddle our way into the Tunnel of Love.’

  ‘Ah.’ Matthew did not sound very enthusiastic. ‘These are rather expensive shoes.’

  ‘So take them off,’ counselled Jo. ‘Roll up your trouser legs and pretend we’re on our holidays.’

  ‘This is hardly paddling,’ Matthew observed glumly a few minutes later as he lowered himself into the waist-deep, bitterly cold water. ‘These are also rather expensive trousers.’

  In the absence of light, fragrance and music there was no romance in the tunnel at all. ‘It’s like a damp, dark, disused Underground station,’ said Jo. ‘And I’ve had more than my share of them, thank you very much!’

  She was feeling her way along the wall, trying to locate the jetty. ‘This is it!’ she said, and they clambered onto a narrow walkway, behind the rose-coloured silk and velvet drapes that covered the tunnel walls. ‘Should be a door any minute… and here it is!’

  On the other side of the door metal steps led down to a space so brightly lit that Jo and Matthew were temporarily dazzled. The hum of a massive machine led them onwards.

  A very long tank of coloured water stood in the centre of the vast room. Jo stood there, dripping wet, and watched as the water moved in a wave from one end of the tank and back.

  ‘Is that it?’ she asked, feeling rather underwhelmed.

  Matthew took in all the peripheral dials, turbines and connecting rods. ‘Amazing,’ he breathed. ‘A Soliton Generator.’

  Jo braced herself for a lecture. She was not disappointed.

  ‘Back in the 1830s, John Scott Russell was watching a horse-drawn barge travelling along a canal. He was
an engineer, researching canal boat designs. For some reason the barge suddenly stopped, but it had generated a wave, and that carried on moving along the channel.’

  ‘Oh.’

  Matthew tried another tack. ‘Imagine a queue of people. As they move forward, each person has a delayed reaction to the space opening up in front of them which sets up a backwards-moving wave of forward-moving people.’

  The more Matthew explained, the less helpful Jo found it. She cut to the chase. ‘O.K. Titus knows how to make a big wave that keeps on going. So what?’

  ‘Well, you put it rather neatly, Jo, when you said he was – ahem – mucking about with the weather. You see, a soliton wave is self-reinforcing. It will keep going, in other words, and maintain its shape while travelling at a constant speed. This phenomenon is being used here to create a regular pulse which releases steam from these turbines, creating clouds.’

  ‘Titus has a bit of a thing about clouds and rain. In Bayne it was red rain. I remember when I was here before with the choir he’d made these incredible, rolling Morning Glory clouds. Hawk heard him talking about creating some kind of mass hysteria by drugging the clouds. He called it the rapture. It was so powerful.’

  ‘You experienced this rapture?’

  ‘I was there, but I didn’t let it get to me.’

  Jo recalled the incense-scented air throbbing as all around her people chanted rhythmically, intoxicated, entranced. It had taken an enormous effort of will to resist the magic of the drug.

  ‘Titus doesn’t just want to control the weather,’ Matthew said gravely. ‘He wants to use the weather to control whole populations. And this is where it starts. Water and steam. So simple. So amazing.’

  At the far end of the tank was another door. Jo and Matthew went through into a corridor that stretched as far as the eye could see. Doors from the corridor led to a complex of laboratories, testing chambers and libraries. One room was full of spools and consoles. ‘It’s a computer,’ breathed Matthew. ‘IBM’s System 360. State of the art. Rendered the competition obsolete.’