Dark Heart Rising

by Lee Monroe

  I wrinkled my nose. ‘Sounds like dishonesty to me.’

  She got up, properly ruffled now. ‘You’re young, you’re an idealist. And you’re a romantic.’

  ‘I’m not!’ I was horrified at the idea.

  ‘Yes, you are. And that’s wonderful. As long as you’re realistic too. There are some things you’re better off not knowing about a person, and vice versa.’ She picked up the boiled kettle, poured the water into a pan and put it on the hob.

  ‘Maybe you’re right.’ I switched off the radio. ‘I certainly didn’t like what I found out about Evan … Or Luca. But I still would rather have known than not known.’

  Mum came over and put her hands on my shoulders. ‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘And that was awful. Really awful. But Evan was a psychopath and Luca … Luca has just proved what I told you.’

  ‘I know. That the laws of Nissilum are beyond mortal understanding.’

  Behind me, I knew she was nodding. Her fingers gave me a small squeeze.

  ‘So, you see. Better to stick to mortal boys from now on. Infuriating they might be, but at least they’re vaguely … human.’

  ‘Can we stop talking about this now?’ I said with a heavy sigh.

  ‘Gladly. I want to hear all about Paris,’ she said. ‘You still haven’t told me what you got up to. Your grandmother told me you made a friend.’

  ‘Not really.’

  ‘A nice, responsible art student,’ she wittered on. ‘If that isn’t a contradiction in terms.’

  ‘Ha. Funny.’ I fake-smiled at her. ‘He was just a boy I bumped into outside the Notre Dame.’

  ‘Well that sounds great,’ she said. ‘What’s he like? Are you two going to stay friends?’

  ‘I doubt it.’

  My mother emptied scrubbed potatoes into the pan of bubbling water.

  ‘OK, well. Nice to meet someone interesting, I suppose …’ She bent to turn the gas down.

  ‘He wasn’t that interesting. In fact he was quite annoying … in the end.’

  She gave me an odd look, which I ignored. I dragged this month’s Timber World towards me and pretended to be absorbed in it. Taking the hint, Mum checked the chicken and then the clock.

  ‘Well, dinner will be ready in about an hour. If you’re going to be a grouch, you can go to your bedroom and take that magazine you’re feigning interest in.’

  ‘Fine.’ I stood, leaving the magazine open on the table, and moved into the hall. Instead of climbing the stairs to my room I opened the back door.

  ‘Where’s the dog?’ I called.

  ‘Oh … your father took him in the truck when he went to get Dot.’

  Great, just when I needed a dog to walk.

  ‘Oh, Jane,’ Mum yelled from the kitchen, ‘we got you a present while you were in Paris.’

  I stood where I was outside the back door. I felt ungrateful, but I couldn’t imagine any present my parents picked out would be that exciting.

  My mother appeared next to me. She held out a plastic bag. I took it. Inside was a box.

  ‘Finally,’ I said, impressed. ‘The last teenager in the world to get a mobile phone.’

  ‘You’re the one who refused to get one,’ said Mum, smiling. ‘I just thought, with you going to college and everything you might change your mind …’ She nodded at the box. ‘Go on. Open it.’

  It was actually quite a cool smartphone.

  ‘Thanks, Mum.’ Forgetting to be stroppy for a second, I turned it on.

  ‘We fully charged it already,’ Mum said, craning over my shoulder to take a look. ‘So you can use it straight away.’

  ‘Right, because I have so many friends to call,’ I said, wondering for a bizarre moment what Luca would think. He and I had a mutual dislike of mobile phones. I swallowed the sad feeling. Who cared what he thought.

  ‘Thanks, Mum, it’s great,’ I told her. ‘Really, it’s kind of you and Dad.’

  ‘You’re welcome.’ She beamed. ‘Oh, look, you have two messages already!’

  I stared down at the screen. The first was a welcome message from the network provider. The other was from an actual telephone number. I clicked on it.

  LET’S MEET AGAIN. BEFORE IT’S TOO LATE. SX

  I clicked out of the message, shocked.

  ‘Who was that?’ Mum leaned in closer.

  ‘Just the phone people … Welcome messages,’ I mumbled, putting the phone in my pocket.

  ‘Right … Well, I’ll leave you to play with it,’ she said, and disappeared inside.

  I remained outside the back door for a few minutes, trying and failing to work out how on earth Soren had got my phone number. It was just too weird. I squinted into the late summer sun. On the way home from Paris I’d had time to go over what had happened. As hideous as it was to think of Luca with someone else, I didn’t trust Soren, with his nearly-black eyes and his dry, amoral attitude. I’d decided to just forget him. Get on with my life. And here he was reminding me that he wasn’t going anywhere.

  ‘Just leave me alone,’ I whispered, staring at the trees, longing for another boy.

  As if on cue, my phone beeped again. I fished it out of my pocket.

  ‘If I ignore you enough, will you go away?’ I muttered, opening a new text message.

  HOPE YOU LIKE YOUR PRESENT DARLING, DAD X

  I smiled, relieved.

  It started to rain, great drops turning torrential. The back door creaked as the wind picked up, and I shivered, turning to go back inside.

  CHAPTER FIVE

  ‘It is good to see you so well.’ Celeste, great-mother of the Celestial family, stroked Raphael’s hair away from his face. ‘I must be honest, Raffy, I didn’t know whether you would ever get well.’

  He smiled, picking up her hand and kissing it. ‘I am so ashamed,’ he said quietly, ‘for everything I did. I lost my mind …’

  ‘It’s in the past.’ She drew away her hand and held her back straight, picking up her porcelain cup and drinking some tea. ‘The important thing is that you are better now and ready to start taking your place as part of this family.’ Her eyes were grave as she replaced her cup on its delicate saucer. ‘You have many responsibilities ahead of you.’

  ‘I know.’ Raphael kept his head down as he stirred his tea. ‘And I am happy to take them on.’

  ‘Good.’ Her face regained its usual radiance.

  A serving girl entered the room, carrying fresh coffee.

  ‘Not for me, Rosa,’ Celeste told her. ‘I must see to Cadmium, he is not well.’ As she pushed back her chair, Raphael rose too.

  ‘I will see you at dinner, Raffy,’ she said, nodding at Rosa as the maid swept past her. ‘I trust you will find a useful way to occupy yourself, Raphael,’ she called back over her shoulder.

  Rosa followed her and the door shut behind them. Raphael sank back into his chair, his demeanour already altered. He grasped his cup and emptied the contents noisily down his throat.

  Then he sat, staring out of the window at the figures working on the gardens in front of him. As he watched, his eyes narrowed and his hands fiddled restlessly with the cup in front of him. One of his headaches was coming; he could already feel the dull throb, so familiar over the past few months. They’d begun when he was first locked away in the palace basements on his return from Earth – the mortal world. Some nights they were so bad he had cried out in pain. The guards, taking it as another sign of his madness, had ignored him. So, Raphael had borne the pain, while slowly a plan hatched inside him.

  Soon, Celeste’s face had turned from anxious to hopeful as she made her nightly visits. Eventually she had dismissed the guards hovering outside Raphael’s room and had sat comfortably talking to her great-son for as long as an hour at a time.

  Slowly, surely, Raphael had convinced his great-mother – Queen of the Seraphim – that he was completely cured. A model of rational remorse. He had shed so many tears in front of her – tears that had him wincing in self-loathing as soon as the door had shut behind he
r. Celeste was now assured of his rehabilitation. She so wanted to believe it, and Raphael had made it so much easier. He had always been her favourite. There was nothing she wanted more than to restore him to his rightful place. The eventual heir to the whole of the Celestial Kingdom.

  Raphael rose from the breakfast table and stood looking down on the palace gardens. In the field just beyond the garden wall, a couple caught his eye. The boy was tall and graceful, his brown hair blowing messily in the breeze, the girl handsome, with honey-coloured hair in a neat French plait, dressed in loose trousers and a light T-shirt.

  Raphael rubbed his temple. Luca, the one who had saved him from committing a terrible act. He had hated the boy at one time. Or had it been jealousy? For all that Luca and his family symbolised the ethos of Nissilum – the great ‘sacrifice’ that Raphael despised – he had to admit he almost felt a little sorry for him now. Luca was soon to be married to a girl he barely knew and couldn’t possibly love. Not so long ago Luca had nearly followed the same path as Gabriel – falling in love with the mortal girl, Jane. Even Raphael had been swayed by the intensity of their feelings for each other in the end. But of course, it couldn’t be allowed. Not if Luca’s mother had anything to do with it. Under pressure from Celeste, who had a soft spot for the wolf-boy, Raphael was obliged to host the marriage, though it would sicken him to do it. He looked coldly at the pair as they walked arm in arm through the field. Luca was insufferably good. So ready to be compliant in the suffocating future his family had laid out for him. And now Jane was dismissed. Raphael shook his head. Not so hard-hearted that he couldn’t see the injustice in that.

  Raphael turned from the window. His headache was getting worse; he screwed up his eyes and put his hands to his head, pushing back his thick blond curls – it would soon be agonising.

  Slowly, the boy made his way up the back staircase to his bedroom, and collapsed on to his bed. He just had to wait it out and then start gathering his trusted few, begin preparations for the final act of rebellion.

  ‘And so Hanni will arrive in the half moon,’ Lila said, leading Luca to a public seat nestled against the palace wall. She smiled at him, small pretty dimples appearing in her cheeks. ‘Our two families will make a fine union … Your mother has been in discussion with my parents for a long time.’

  ‘Yes.’ Luca returned her smile, hoping it didn’t betray his lack of enthusiasm. ‘It will make our families very happy.’ He dropped his head and focussed on a blade of grass on the ground in front of them.

  ‘You don’t say much.’ Lila leaned playfully into him. ‘Hanni always tells me to be wary of a man too fond of the sound of his voice, but still … I wonder you don’t just find me dull.’

  Luca lifted his head to look at his fiancée. ‘Please don’t take my silence as anything sinister, Lila,’ he told her. ‘Perhaps your mother is a wise woman.’

  ‘She is.’ She put her hands in her lap, before turning away a little coyly. ‘But some boys might be proud of a girl who chatters. I will make a good hostess.’

  Luca struggled with how to respond. He had a sudden, painful longing for the awkward sincerity of the girl he could not think about any more, for the dark-grey eyes he could have looked into for ever.

  Eventually he put his hand over Lila’s. ‘And I like your chatter,’ he said, feeling bad for her. ‘And proud to be with you.’ He stopped short of saying he was proud to be marrying her. That, he couldn’t manufacture. Not yet, maybe not ever.

  The two of them fell quiet, Luca reflecting on how seamlessly Lila had taken Jane’s place in the eyes of his family – how popular she already was with anyone who met her. No one, not his parents or his siblings, nor any of the Royal family, had spoken of what had happened, or of the girl he brought to the Great Ball – it seemed like a lifetime ago now. It was as though Jane had been erased from everyone’s memory.

  Not mine, though, Luca thought. Nobody can make me forget her, even if I never speak of her again.

  ‘Look.’ Lila spoke, sitting up and turning in the direction of the palace garden gate. ‘There is your brother.’

  Lowe lolloped towards them, that familiar insouciant expression on his face. For a change, Luca was relieved to see him. At least Lowe, with all his insensitivity, would break the intense atmosphere.

  ‘Lila.’ Lowe nodded, giving her the full benefit of his superficial charm. ‘What a pretty picture you are. Let’s hope some of your radiance will infect your husband-to-be.’ He smiled maddeningly at his brother.

  ‘What are you you up to, Lowe?’ Luca asked, refusing to rise to the bait.

  Lowe drew himself up grandly. ‘I am on my way to the stables,’ he said. ‘Raphael and I are going riding today with a few of the palace boys.’ He paused, his chest puffing out slightly. ‘He particularly asked for me as a companion …’ Lowe left a deliberate pointed pause.

  ‘Well, go carefully with him,’ Luca replied gravely. ‘We cannot be sure he isn’t still fragile.’

  ‘He is such an old man.’ Lowe addressed Lila. ‘Be warned, Lila, Luca is against fun on principle. You may have to make your own entertainment once you are married.’

  Lila frowned briefly before coming to Luca’s defence. ‘I admire his reticence,’ she said seriously. ‘He will make a thoughtful husband. And it is kind of him to be so concerned with Celeste’s great-son.’

  ‘Well, then.’ Lowe kicked at the ground beneath his feet. ‘I will leave the two of you to sit in joyless silence.’ As Luca turned to him, he caught the cruel mischief in his brother’s eyes. Lowe was clearly enjoying the sacrifice Luca was enduring.

  Why has he grown to despise me? he wondered. Lowe’s very existence cast doubt on the notion of family love. He was quite sure his brother didn’t love or care for him. Not any longer.

  Lowe leaned forward to kiss Lila on both cheeks, and gave Luca a curt nod. ‘Have fun!’

  CHAPTER SIX

  ‘This is a day for you to familiarise yourself with the college campus,’ said Mr Farrelly, the college principal. ‘And to meet your tutors.’ He paused, looking around the hall at the throng of new students. ‘I hope you’ll take a minute to get to know each other,’ he added. ‘This is a time not just for learning, but to broaden your social horizons, too.’ He smiled at us. ‘Now, does anyone have any questions?’

  As hands shot up in the air, I took the opportunity to look at my fellow students. It was a while since I’d been in this situation, and I was relieved to find that it was bearable. In fact, it was actually liberating. A chance to reinvent myself. The last time I had sat in a classroom, I had been fourteen and the subject of one girl’s constant bullying. Sarah Emmerson had made my life hell every day, all because I didn’t look or act like her or her Barbie clique. In the end my parents had taken me away and home-schooled me. It was early days, but it seemed like here nobody looked at me like I was a freak. Maybe I could now be the confident sociable Jane I had never been before?

  An Asian girl called Tammi introduced herself to me. She was studying the sciences. She seemed sweet, though we wouldn’t have any classes together. A red-haired bespectacled boy told me his name was Tom. He was studying Art, English and History, like me – though he was taking Maths too. He seemed OK, if a bit nerdy.

  Then there were the twins, Ashley and Emma, wearing tiny little dresses and heels – who looked me up and down and, clearly deciding I was absolutely no threat whatsoever, dragged me to the cafeteria to get some hot chocolate before we all went to meet our tutors.

  ‘Everyone calls us A&E,’ said, Ashley, giggling. ‘You know … like Accident and Emergency? Because we’re always getting into trouble. And we’re pretty clumsy …’

  I genuinely smiled then. At least they weren’t arrogant.

  Sitting in the canteen, I listened to A&E’s chatter, wondering how long it took them to get dressed and make themselves up every morning. My jeans and V–neck wool sweater seemed woefully understated. Everyone, I realised, was making some kind of fashion statement he
re. Everyone but me.

  ‘You have such pretty hair,’ said Ashley, attempting to draw me into the conversation. ‘Do you tong?’

  I shook my head, self-conscious, and made a mental note to do a drastic wardrobe makeover. Looking like you’d been to a fashion camp was clearly the way to fit in here.

  Finally a bell rang, telling us to make our way to our respective subject classrooms and tutors. Saying goodbye to A&E, I walked with Tom, who talked so quickly that I could hardly keep up with what he was saying. Something about taking his Maths A-level early … Every so often he’d glance at me and go a little red, then apologise for talking too much. I wished I was the kind of socially-gifted person who could have made him feel at ease. But years of being a hermit had taken their toll.

  Needless to say, Tom and I were both relieved when we arrived in the Art room and scurried off to find empty seats some way from each other.

  Flopping down at my desk, I opened my bag and started riffling through it to find a pen and a notebook.

  Around me, the chatter of students was a novelty. I hadn’t yet decided whether I was enjoying it or not.

  I bent over my bag, scrabbling around trying to locate my pen. The room fell quiet. The teacher had arrived and was clearing his throat.

  ‘Good morning, everyone.’ I processed a familiar voice, but was still focussed on the contents of my bag. ‘Your assigned tutor has, I’m afraid, been taken seriously ill over the summer holiday and I will now be teaching you over the next college year.’

  I finally found my pen and looked up to the front of the class. When my eyes rested on the young man standing addressing the room, my breath froze in my throat.

  ‘My name is Mr Balzac,’ he continued. ‘But please feel free to call me by my first name. Soren.’

  Black eyes found mine and a slow smile crept over his handsome angular face before he turned his attention elsewhere.