‘It wasn’t fair her coming along like that,’ Caddie sniffed. ‘She made all the bad things happen. She made Billy forget all about us.’
My lips had gone dry, but the rest of me felt soaked with sweat. ‘Whose blood is it?’ I said again.
‘Our game was just meant to keep you busy.’ Caddie clapped her hands excitedly. ‘So me and Raggy Maggie could play a game that was much more fun.’
‘My sister,’ Billy sobbed. ‘She’s got my little sister.’
For a moment everything in the world seemed to stop. Everything, that is, but the drip, drip, drip of the droplets of red.
‘Lilly?’ I croaked. ‘It’s Lilly’s blood?’
‘Oh no, it’s not hers,’ Caddie giggled. ‘I haven’t done anything to her yet.’
‘Then whose is it?’
Caddie’s voice came as a thin and scratchy whisper. ‘It’s your mummy’s.’
A numbness froze me, made it impossible to move. The words rattled around in my head, empty and meaningless, as if my mind was rejecting them, pushing them away.
Behind me, Billy was babbling. Weeping. Wailing. ‘I’m sorry. I’m sorry. I’m sorry.’
‘That’s what she gets for looking after her—’
‘You’re lying,’ I said.
‘Only bad girls tell lies.’
‘You’re lying!’ I hurled myself at her. It wasn’t true. It couldn’t be true. I’d make her confess. Make her admit it was all just another of her sick little jokes.
That icy blade cut through the inside of my head again, cold and sharp, slicing through my every thought. I didn’t feel my legs go limp. Didn’t feel my jaw crack off the blood-drenched floor. Didn’t feel anything but the freezing fire burning through my brain.
It was a struggle, but I managed to crane my neck enough to find Caddie. She was hazy and indistinct, but I could see she was still standing outside the door. One hand was resting on the handle. In the other hand she clutched Raggy Maggie. The doll’s single eye leered down at me, merciless and unblinking. Where was Ameena when I needed her?
‘You know, maybe I am lying,’ Caddie sang. Her voice echoed, like feedback at a concert. ‘Maybe I’m not. But it doesn’t really matter.’
I heard the door creak, saw the light narrowing and the shadows growing. I fought with my legs, but they weren’t working. I could do nothing but lie there and watch as Caddie’s face distorted into an inhuman grin that was much too wide for her face.
‘It doesn’t matter, because you’ll never know,’ she whispered.
The door closed over with a slam, leaving me all alone in the cupboard with Billy and the swirling, flowing rivers of blood.
Chapter Fourteen
COMPLETE SURRENDER
With the door closed the air in the room was choking. It smelled like the contents of a butcher’s bin bag. It stunk of rancid things. Rotting things. Things days dead. It swirled up my nostrils and nipped at my lungs as I hauled myself up and shook the fuzz from inside my head.
Billy was babbling and whimpering. Noises, not words. Normally it would have been distracting. Normally it would have shot my concentration to pieces.
Normally.
But not now.
Now the sparks raced and danced and crackled – not just across my head this time, but through my every vein. I could feel them there, just below my skin, pushed around my body by a swelling of hatred and rage. I couldn’t have stopped them, even if I’d wanted to.
And I didn’t want to. I was no longer holding back. I’d felt their power on Christmas Day. I’d sensed then what the sparks could do – what I could do – and I’d been afraid. Afraid to give in to it. Afraid to test the extent of my new abilities.
I wasn’t afraid any more.
It’s your mummy’s. Caddie’s voice played over and over in my head, scratchy and crackling, like an old vinyl record.
She hurt my mum.
The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck stood up. Static electricity fizzled on my skin.
She hurt my mum.
Something in my vision flickered, and the dark was pushed aside by a ghostly blue glow. It picked out the edges of everything. The shelves. The door. Billy, mouth open, weeping silently.
She hurt my mum.
And she was going to pay.
My finger lifted, touched the door. The wood exploded into matchsticks, letting the light flood in.
I stepped out of the cupboard. Caddie was already gone, and it looked like she had taken Ameena with her. I wasn’t sure how she could have done it, but there was a lot more to the little girl than her appearance suggested.
I didn’t know where she had gone to. Right then, I didn’t care. I knew where I was going, and that was enough. Behind me Billy swallowed down a sob.
‘How…how did you d-do that?’
‘Long story,’ I said. ‘Caddie. How fast can she move from place to place?’
‘W-what?’
‘When she was in your head,’ I said. ‘Back then, how quickly did she move?’
‘I don’t know,’ Billy replied. ‘I never really saw…usually if I went anywhere she’d get there ahead of me. She’d just kind of be there waiting for me.’
‘Great,’ I sighed. That was just what I didn’t want to hear. I started to stride towards the hole where the stairs should have been. ‘You coming?’ I asked, not looking back.
‘I can’t,’ he croaked. ‘My hands. I’m tied.’
‘No,’ I said, picturing the ropes falling away. ‘You aren’t.’
The chair creaked as he got up. ‘How did you—?’
‘I don’t have time to explain,’ I snapped. ‘Now move.’
His feet splashed through the blood – through my mum’s blood – as he scurried out of the store cupboard. The shattered edge of the floor was a few paces in front of me. I broke into a run. As I did, I heard Billy’s feet hesitate and a gasp stick in his throat.
‘Watch out!’ he warned. ‘You’re going to fall.’
I saw the stairs as they should have been, and my insides sparkled like a sack of diamonds. I didn’t bother to look down as I stepped off the edge. Didn’t bother because I knew I had nothing to fear.
The first step appeared as my foot came down, the empty air turning to solid stone just in time to support me. A second step formed next to it, lower down. By the time I’d reached the third step, the entire stairway had been rebuilt.
Billy cautiously lowered a foot on to the top step and touched it with the toe of his shoe. When it didn’t move, he ventured down a couple more steps.
‘That’s…impossible,’ Billy whispered. ‘It’s impossible,’ he repeated, louder this time. His footsteps broke into a gallop, and within a few seconds he was running beside me down the stairs. ‘How did…I mean…?’
‘What did you tell her?’ I asked him.
‘What? I don’t—’
‘What did you tell her?’
We passed the second floor and carried on down the steps. The light from the window reflected off the dampness in Billy’s eyes.
‘She…she asked about my sister,’ Billy began. ‘About Lilly. She knew all about her. She wanted…She asked me where she was.’
‘And you told her?’ I sneered. ‘Just like that.’
‘No, not just like that.’ Billy’s voice took on a little of its usual edge. Not much, but a little. ‘I told her to get out of my face. Told her I wasn’t telling her nothing.’
‘But you did tell her.’ I didn’t make any attempt to hide the anger in my voice. ‘Didn’t you?’
Billy’s mouth flapped up and down for a few seconds, like a fish stuck on dry land. The first floor passed. We were almost at the bottom.
‘She…did things,’ Billy said. He sounded hollow and mechanical. From the corner of my eye I saw him lift up his school jumper and the shirt beneath it.
The skin on his chest and stomach was scalded red. Here and there it formed into bulbous blisters. A clear liquid sloshed about inside them a
s we hurried down the last of the steps.
‘I tried not to tell her,’ he said hoarsely, ‘but she wouldn’t stop.’ His hands were shaking as he pulled the clothes back down. I glanced up into eyes I no longer recognised. Tears rolled down Billy’s cheeks, cutting tracks through the drying blood. ‘I tried,’ he sobbed, ‘but she wouldn’t stop. She wouldn’t stop so I told her where Lilly was. I told her she was at your house.’
His whole body was shaking now. I should have hated him. I wanted to hate him. He’d not only sold out his own little sister, he’d sold out my mum. But I remembered the pain that had spilled from Caddie’s teapot. Billy had given in to it. Who was to say I wouldn’t eventually have done the same?
Mum would have tried to protect Lilly. She’d have done everything she could to keep the girl safe.
She wouldn’t have stood a chance.
‘What then?’ I asked.
‘She…she left. She locked me in. I didn’t see her again until you arrived.’
We were down the stairs now, running towards a side door of the school. Beyond that lay the staff car park. Beyond that a three-mile journey home. I wasn’t sure if Caddie would be there, but Mum might be, and right then, that was all I cared about.
‘How long was she gone?’
‘I…I don’t know.’
The anger inside me lashed out. ‘Well, think, Billy.’
‘I was…I passed out,’ he protested weakly. ‘I don’t know, I’m sorry.’
The doors flew open before we’d reached them and we exploded out into the car park. There were around two dozen cars parked in it. Wherever the staff and pupils of the school had gone, they hadn’t driven there.
An hour and five minutes – that was how long it had taken me to get to Billy. I’d seen Caddie about ten minutes before I made it to the top floor, so that was a fifty-five minute period when I didn’t know where she was or what she was doing.
Fifty-five minutes. Was that enough time to torture Billy, get to my house, then get back? It depended on how long Billy took to crack. It was a twenty-minute round trip by car from my house to school. I doubted Caddie could drive, but the girl was full of surprises.
So thirty-five minutes to get what she needed from Billy, attack my mum and snatch Lilly. Much as I hated to admit it, it was doable. It was definitely doable.
‘Where are we going?’ Billy asked.
‘My house.’ I eyed up the cars, trying to find one that looked fast. I quickly realised none of them did. Most of the teachers drove boring, sensible vehicles that would struggle to hit fifty miles per hour. Most of the teachers.
But not all of them.
Mr Preston was very protective of his motorbike. It was black, red and silver. It was also ridiculously shiny. It stood there glistening and sleek in the sunlight. Mr Preston’s pride and joy.
A spark flashed through me and the bike roared into life.
‘Whoa,’ Billy whistled. ‘How did you do that?’
‘Will you stop asking me that?’ I spat.
Billy fell silent. He watched me swing my leg over the bike. It hummed impatiently beneath me. ‘Do you know how to ride?’ he asked meekly.
‘I’ll learn. Get on.’
He hesitated for a second, then clambered on behind me. I was trying to figure out how to make the bike start moving when I realised someone was standing in front of me. It was the man who had untied me from the chair in the canteen.
‘Do me a favour,’ he said, holding up both hands. A motorbike helmet was perched on each palm. ‘If you’re going to head off on this contraption, at least stick these on. Last thing you need is your head bashed in.’
He passed me one of the helmets. It was black with a clear visor, and I recognised it as Mr Preston’s. It tugged at my ears as I slipped it over my head, and everything suddenly sounded distant and muted.
I had a lot of questions I would have liked to ask the mystery man, but once again there was no time. I settled on only one.
‘How’s Mrs Milton?’
‘She’s fine,’ he said, handing the other helmet to Billy. ‘Bit confused, but fine. She doesn’t remember any of it.’
‘Lucky her,’ I muttered.
‘Hey! Not fair,’ Billy complained. He was holding the other helmet up, scowling at it as if it were covered in sick. ‘How come I get the pink one?’
‘Just put it on,’ I told him.
‘Good luck,’ the man said. He stepped aside, making room for us to pass.
‘Oh, come on, it’s got Sexy Mama written on it!’
‘Will I see you again?’ I asked, ignoring Billy’s protests.
‘I mean…Sexy Mama!’
The man nodded. ‘I hope so.’
Billy said something else, but he was halfway through putting the helmet on, and his voice was muffled. I kicked the motorbike stand away and twisted the throttle. The bike suddenly launched us forward and Billy’s words were left trailing in our wake. Whatever he had said, it wasn’t important. Nothing was important. Nothing mattered but getting home.
The white lines and tarmac flew by beneath us, and we were out of the car park in seconds. I wrenched on the handlebars and took the corner awkwardly. The bike weaved wildly on to a narrow side road, the engine shuddering and stuttering as we left the school behind.
I twisted the right handle, opening the throttle further. The back wheel spun and the engine squealed in complaint, but the burst of speed helped keep the bike balanced. Tyres smoking, we screeched off towards the main road.
Billy’s voice came crackling from somewhere by my right ear. The helmets must have some kind of communication system built in, I realised. ‘We are so going to die,’ Billy groaned.
I didn’t answer. The motorbike had seemed like a good idea. I’d pictured it kicking into life, and it had done just that. Picturing myself as someone who could actually ride a motorbike, though – that was proving more difficult.
The main road was a hundred metres ahead. One left turn and three miles and we’d be within spitting distance of my house. It sounded simple. I gritted my teeth and thought of Mum. It would be simple.
Traffic flowed in both directions along the main road. The town wasn’t big enough to have a proper rush hour – and even if it did this wouldn’t have been it – but there was still a stream of cars racing past the T-junction ahead of us.
Sure, I thought. Simple.
We wobbled our way up to the junction. I had slowed down, but didn’t want to stop. I wasn’t sure if I could keep the bike balanced if we stopped. Besides, stopping would waste time.
A white van flashed past, probably over the speed limit. A silver car shot by behind it. The driver’s eyes went wide as he spotted us – two kids riding a motorbike – but he didn’t slow down.
There was a break in the traffic after that, although I could see a white car coming up fast. The rage had made me confident – more confident than I’d ever felt – but now that confidence was fading a little. The white car was closing the gap. This was going to be tight.
‘Hold on,’ I yelled, twisting the grip and accelerating out on to the main road.
‘Hey, cool, we can hear each other,’ Billy said, but I was too focused on what I was doing to reply.
The bike lurched, stuttered a few times, then began to speed up. I glanced down at the digital speedometer in the centre of the handlebars. It said we were going at twenty-seven miles per hour, but that couldn’t be right. It felt much faster.
‘Change gears,’ instructed Billy. ‘You’re going to blow the engine up.’
Up until that point I hadn’t realised motorbikes had gears. Now he mentioned it, though, the whine of the engine was getting higher and higher, like a swarm of angry wasps.
‘How do I do that?’ I asked.
An arm appeared over my left shoulder. The finger was extended towards the left handle grip.
‘Twist that, then there’s a little lever next to your right foot,’ he instructed. ‘Click that.’
It took a few tries, but I eventually managed a clumsy gear change. The bike roared furiously for a few moments, then settled down into something resembling a normal engine sound.
‘Keep changing up as we get faster,’ Billy told me. I nodded and clicked the bike into third gear, then fourth. The transitions got smoother each time, and the bike didn’t complain nearly as much. I glanced at the speedo again. Fifty-four miles per hour. That was more like it.
‘How did you know about the gears?’ I asked, bending my body forward against the wind.
‘My cousin has a bike,’ he explained. ‘He’s let me ride it a few times.’
‘And you didn’t think to mention that before we got on?’ I scowled.
‘I thought you knew what you were doing.’
‘Well, I don’t.’
I had to breathe deeply to stop my anger bubbling over. My whole body still felt alive with electricity. I was a loaded weapon, ready to go off. If I didn’t calm down there was no saying what could happen.
We were on our way, that was the main thing. All we had to do was follow the main road for another couple of miles. Just five minutes or so and I’d be home.
A white shape appeared in one of the bike’s wing mirrors. I flicked my eyes from the road long enough to make out the white car. It was directly behind us, dangerously close.
In the front seats, two men stared, slack-jawed with shock. On the roof above them, a set of blue lights screamed into action.
‘It’s the police,’ Billy yelped.
‘I know,’ I spat. For a moment I thought about stopping. For a moment I thought about pulling over and telling them everything.
But only for a moment.
I opened the throttle all the way and the numbers on the speedometer began to climb.
‘What…what are you doing?’ wailed Billy.
The sparks inside me fizzled and danced. ‘Relax,’ I smirked. ‘It’s a getaway.’
Chapter Fifteen
THE CHASE
The sirens of the police car became fainter as the bike pulled away. The wind whipped at me, pressing against me like a hand against my chest. The tail lights of the silver car in front grew steadily larger – two glowing red eyes in the faint January daylight, rushing up to meet us.
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