by Alex Mae
‘The pigeon’s blood. Yeah, I think so.’
The paper fluttered to the floor. After a moment, faintly green in the cheeks, Jasper pushed the now cold plate of toasted bread away.
‘It was tame,’ Raegan said, for want of anything else to say. ‘The bird. It used to come to my window. Sometimes I would feed it scraps.’ The bird’s eyes seemed to be staring at her now. Feeling sick again, she replaced the lid, at the same time reaching her hand down to scrabble for the note. She stuffed both back inside her bag.
It didn’t help much. She knew it was still there. Insides squirming, she hovered by the edge of the table, tapping the grooves on the top of one of the wooden chairs with her fingertips.
‘That was the horrible thing, right? The thing that made you stay here? Don’t tell me there’s more,’ Jasper tried for a joke, but it was half-hearted.
A tear trickled down her cheek. She brushed it away, but another followed it, retracing the shiny, snail’s trail across the white skin. ‘I was scared. I ran all the way here.’
Concern burst the lid off Jasper’s customary reticence. Clumsily, bumping into the table, he came to her side.
She had forgotten how comforting a cuddle could be. Even an awkward cuddle with somebody who really wasn’t used to giving them. Even when it was a little like two skeletons linking bones. Jasper was naturally skinny, but she had lost so much weight recently that her ribs now bumped against his.
With a final, tight squeeze, he stepped away. His voice was gruff. ‘You can stay here as often as you want.’
‘Thanks, but I’m not sure Max would agree.’ She blew her nose noisily. ‘I’m lucky no-one caught me last night. Our curfews are so strict since Carrigaline.’ She glanced at the clock and then relaxed. It was only 5.30am. There was still an hour before she had to be anywhere. ‘I can’t believe I have to go to class today. As if everything’s normal. What a joke.’
‘Surely you’re going to tell someone now? If not Max, how about Robert? Or someone more senior, that Russian guy, you get on well with him-‘
‘Yali? No. It wouldn’t do any good. All the teachers are angry with us-‘
‘Come off it, they wouldn’t be so petty-‘
‘And besides, I don’t have any proof that it is Declan!’ She spoke louder and louder to blot out Jasper’s interruptions. ‘I need to wait for more clues.’ It was on the tip of her tongue to tell Jasper that she had tried using the Trace on the pigeon but nothing had happened. Maybe it didn’t work with animals. Even if it did, it was not something she was going to try again anytime soon. With a shudder, she recalled the cold stiffness of the pigeon’s corpse beneath her fingers. The note had also yielded nothing to her touch.
If she did have some skill with time-recall, it had deserted her now.
Jasper did not notice her preoccupation. ‘Would you listen to yourself! Your security is the most important thing, Raegan. Who gives a fig about Declan – it doesn’t matter if it’s him behind this or someone else! The point is, someone is doing these things to you. And if that note is anything to go by, it’s only going to get worse, and ‘soon’. You need to be protected. You can’t put your own safety behind some nutty witch-hunt!’
Angry tears sprang to Raegan’s eyes. Why didn’t anyone understand? She wanted to scream at Jasper that she wasn’t crazy or overreacting. She was simply sick and tired of feeling like this; swamped by the insecurity that had plagued her since she set foot in Unit Prime, the outsider, the newcomer, the latecomer. And underneath all this latent unease, stirring, exacerbating, like a nail picking at a scab, was Declan Kane. She might never know why he was out to get her, if it was because of the Trace or because he just didn’t like her - but it was clear to her now that he was dangerous.
All she needed was proof.
Perhaps sensing that Raegan was on the verge of storming out, Jasper changed tack. ‘We can talk more about that later. You’ve had a terrible night and quite a scare. If we keep going over it it’ll only upset you. Permission to change the subject for a mo?’
Not trusting herself to speak, she nodded. All she wanted to do was leave; but Jasper was already on his feet and hurrying excitedly over to an unfamiliar corner of the warehouse. Pull yourself together, she told herself sharply, arranging her features into an interested expression.
As he waited for her to join him, Jasper lingered by what appeared to be a vast set of velvet curtains suspended from runners attached to the bars hanging from the ceiling. Catching sight of her expression, mistaking it for curiosity, he grinned. ‘Bloody odd thing to have in a place like this, ent it? Sometimes we have to store objects that are old and light-sensitive. Rare artefacts and such like. For special weapons. Anyway,’ he cleared his throat. ‘Seeing as I’ve got you here, at last. Without further ado-‘
With a flourish he yanked the tasselled cord. Nothing happened. Furrowing his brow like he wanted to do nothing more than strangle the prop for misbehaving, he gripped it more firmly and pulled down. The rope, old and frayed, came clean apart in the middle, sending him stumbling backwards.
A giggle forced its way out of her mouth. Smiling for what felt like the first time in weeks, she walked over, holding out her hand. ‘You don’t have to keep falling at my feet, you know.’
‘Very funny,’ he sighed, allowing her to pull him up. ‘All part of my cunning plan to cheer you up. Did it work?’
‘Might have done. You twit!’ The smile was still on her face. She squeezed Jasper’s arm as she led him back to the curtains, a silent thanks for this happy distraction. ‘Now, what’s the big surprise?’
Feeling better, Raegan was happy to let her attention wander while Jasper busied himself trying to salvage the situation. She found that her gaze was drawn to the oddly magnificent drop of the faded and musty curtains; scanning up and down, she felt her eyes being pulled over, over, until they found what they were searching for. The tasselled cord, hanging limply just above her head, the other half lying coiled and lifeless on the dusty floor below.
There was something familiar about it. Curiously, she reached out her hand.
And then something odd happened.
She had grown more used to her mind playing tricks on her since beginning the training; had even learned to relax into it. But the flash of green that swooped into her vision now was weird even for her. It was not Sukey, it was not a vision, it was not something to do with the Trace.
Was it just a trick of the light?
Puzzled, she continued to contemplate the rope, setting it swinging with her fingers. Without thinking, she stretched up, curling her hand firmly around it as if about to climb.
An eerie sense of déjà vu took over. She was remembering something. Something about this moment was familiar – had she already experienced it in a dream? Was something about to happen?
And then another flash. But this time it was in 3D: her surroundings melted away, and she was holding onto another rope. There was the sound of water hitting the glossy, green surfaces of the canopy of leaves surrounding her. There was the freshly pungent smell of damp earth and chilled air.
Something was about to happen. But it was something that had already happened, weeks ago, in the Labyrinth...
The sight played before her eyes as clear as day. She remembered the few remaining strands that held the rope together, allowing her to climb as high as she did. The rope intended for her use. She remembered how, with only a few metres left to climb, it had given away beneath her hands. She remembered flailing, grasping, as the useless end she clung to slipped, cleanly, from its other half. She remembered the terrifying feeling of her fingers meeting nothing but whistling air as she plummeted toward the ground.
That rope, juxtaposed on this cord, wavered in her mind’s eye. Its closeness to the other made the crucial differences plain. This rope was ragged, frayed, tattered. It had come apart due to old age. That rope was clean, sawed with precision aside from a few hanging strands.
That rope had been cut.
Chapter Twenty: Soon
Raegan wrestled with her conscience all the way into Block 4B. As she walked up the stairs, she was still trying to convince herself that what she was doing wasn’t really illegal. Sure, she was going to break into Declan’s room; but she had just cause! He was a thief, at the very least. She could always argue that she was going to get her necklace back. She had a solid reason, not like the last time - and she hadn’t broken in on that occasion even when she’d had the chance.
The excuses sounded lame even to her. But this is why I need proof, she told herself furiously. My gut is telling me that Declan is the root of it all. He cut the rope; he killed that bird: who knew what he could do next...
The corridor was dark and gloomy. She shivered and wished she hadn’t chosen this particular moment to remember the bird. The image of its bloodstained body, still strong in her mind, never failed to give her the jitters.
Despite the talking to, when she was stood in front of the door she couldn’t help but hesitate. Ever since she bolted from the Armoury this morning she had been fighting with herself; in fact she’d only finally snapped into action this evening because she couldn’t not. At short notice many of the teachers had been called away from the Unit on Sentinel business and supervision was light for the first time since the lock-down.
Feeling like a real wimp, she tried the handle. Surely it wouldn’t be that easy: the room would be locked and she would be forced to break in. It was like a dream when the door slid open with an easy click. She gaped.
‘Hello?’ she called softly. ‘Declan, are you in here?’
***
Raegan wasn’t the only person skulking around Unit Prime. In fact, if she hadn’t been so preoccupied during her journey down the via decumana to Block 4B, she might have noticed a familiar figure sneaking in the other direction.
Not for the first time, Bree wished it did not take so long to get into the Tower. Kept under lock and key by Max for the last few days and expected to indulge his every whim, she was in a vile mood. This did not do much for her already limited patience.
Constantly checking her watch, she raced through the various checks. As she was no longer allowed out after curfew, Max had finally relented and allowed the time restriction facility to be discarded. She could now, in theory, visit Sukey whenever she wanted. Except the Praetor had also designed her new, heavily supervised schedule to be too busy for the quickest visit. He loved to dangle the carrot. He who giveth can also taketh away: Max knew how to hit her where it hurt most.
But it was not only Bree who was paying for this. In denying her access, Sukey was being punished as well.
Ever-alert and waiting for her chance to escape, Bree’s ears had pricked up when conversation at the dinner-table turned to the recent, urgent Sentinel summons - and how strange it was that the Praetor had taken most of the teachers off-campus when for the last week his top priority had been Unit security. The last part was not surprising to Bree. Max was cacking himself that the Sentinel might find out about the cadets sneaking out of camp. At the end of the day, no matter how much Max wanted the Unit protected, he wanted to protect himself more.
Max would always look out for number one – as Bree knew only too well.
But who was left? According to Tyrell, Rico was still on campus, but otherwise occupied. That left only Ingmar to supervise the seven cadets, and he had already gone, taking his meal with him to the Library where he would prepare for the evening study session. It was the first unsupervised dinner service since their return from Carrigaline. She was gone in the blink of an eye.
For once she was not concerned about noise. Pushing the heavy doors open with a bang, she hurried across the chequered floor of the Tower. Her trainers squeaked against the polished marble in signal of her haste.
The room was unpleasantly hot; the traces of sun that had beat down on the vast dome all day still lingered, not aided by the lamps burning brightly from alcoves inset into the plinths and each shelf of the various bookshelves. She placed a hand flat against the cool mahogany base of Sukey’s usual plinth, steadying herself before swinging to the top. Sukey was not there. This was not a good sign.
Taking a deep breath, Bree approached the second highest plinth in the room and began to climb the ladder. When things were particularly bad Sukey had been known to come here. As ever, she wondered what she would find when she reached the top: though not particularly religious, she nonetheless sent a quick plea up to the heavens, praying that she would find Sukey unharmed. She had been known to scratch her arms raw and pull out clumps of her hair in sheer panic that Bree would never return.
The sight of Sukey, dressed in a long, pale blue gown, her dark hair flowing down her back, crosslegged and poring over some book, was therefore a complete surprise. A deep feeling of happiness spread through Bree. She looked so well.
‘Sukey,’ she said quietly, not wanting to alarm her.
Sukey looked up at her and smiled; that elusive, dazzling grin. She was delighted to see her. ‘Bree!’
As her sister scrambled up, arms outstretched, Bree nearly wept. She had not seen Sukey this lucid for years. She hugged her tighter.
‘Bree, I need to breathe,’ Sukey giggled.
Bree released her with a jolt. ‘Sorry.’
‘You forget how strong you are,’ she remarked, drifting away to resume her position on top of the cushions. She patted the floor beside her. ‘Come and sit.’
Singularly unused to her sister giving instructions, particularly ones that made sense, Bree felt as though she was having an out of body experience. Tentatively, as if one wrong movement could break the spell, she sank to the floor. ‘I can’t stay very long.’
‘That’s okay,’ Sukey said serenely, leafing through the pages of the tattered, leather-bound book. It looked ancient. ‘I know what happened.’
‘Really? How?’
Another giggle. ‘You told me, silly. I could hear how worried you were, I was trying and trying to send you a message back, so you knew that I understood. I knew that the bad man was keeping you away.’
‘You were in my head?’ Bree looked at her sharply.
Sukey nodded.
‘Suke...’ Bree took her hand. It was small as a child’s. ‘You aren’t supposed to do that. It’s too much of a strain. Only in emergencies, remember?’
‘Like the other night. I helped, didn’t I?’
‘Very much.’
‘That thing would have hurt you.’
‘I’m lucky to have you looking out for me.’ She tickled Sukey’s palm, to her sister’s delight. It was wonderful to hear her laugh.
Then Sukey’s face clouded over. ‘I wish I could stop the bad man hurting you.’
It was as if a shutter had been pulled down behind Bree’s eyes. ‘It’s okay.’
‘I can feel it,’ Sukey whispered.
‘It’s not the same,’ Bree explained in a strangled voice. She swallowed, then pinched her skin between thumb and forefinger. ‘The Fay – the thing you warned me about, the one sneaking up on me – it hurts me here.’ She pinched the skin, then pointed to the faint, yellow bruises on her face, just visible now. ‘It gave me these. Max only hurts me here.’ She pointed to her heart.
Sukey reached out a careful palm. Their hands entwined over Bree’s chest, clasped above her heart.
‘It’s the only way, Sukey,’ Bree whispered. ‘I have to do what he wants or he could stop us seeing each other.’
Her sister’s eyes, dark as a unicorn’s, glimmered with unshed tears.
‘He could take you away from me,’ Bree repeated.
Sat with their foreheads touching, like two moons meeting in the sky, strength seemed to flow between the two sisters. The longer they sat, the better. Restorative and comforting, their closeness was like a soothing balm on so many open wounds.
Reluctantly Bree extricated herself. ‘I should go. I’ll be back to see you as soon as I can.’
As she stood up, her eye fell
on the book her sister had been reading. She remembered the intense concentration on Sukey’s face. ‘What is that, anyway?’
‘A codex,’ Sukey said. She picked it up, frowning. ‘Thank you for reminding me. I’m meant to give you something.’
‘What do you mean? What can you give me?’
‘A name.’ Sukey’s voice had taken on the dreamlike quality again. Bree knew what that meant.
She crouched down, anxious to keep Sukey with her. ‘Sukey. Do you have something for me?’ She took her face in her hands.
‘Not for you,’ her sister’s eyes were losing focus. She was slipping through Bree’s fingers. ‘But to give you. It’s for your friend.’
‘What friend is that?’
‘The one you brought here.’
‘Raegan?’ Bree’s voice took on a shrill quality. Raegan had not been herself the last few days: withdrawn and distracted, the bounce all gone out of her. They were so tightly supervised that Bree had not had one chance to talk to her friend – but she was worried that something seriously bad had happened in Carrigaline. If Sukey knew something, curfew could get stuffed. She had to find out what.
‘I was with her in the night. I tried to warn her... but she did not listen.’ An odd half-smile played at her lips. ‘She loves you. She would not leave you, though I warned her she must. So she tried to help. And then she met him.’
‘A Fay? Sukey, did she lock in with a Fay?’
‘Yes. But it did not go how she expected.’
‘You’ve lost me.’
‘She has developed feelings. Or rather, she has discovered feelings that were always there, waiting to come to the surface.’
‘Please concentrate.’ It was not often that Bree grew openly frustrated with her sister, but this was one of those times. ‘You aren’t making any sense, Sukey! For goodness sake, stop talking in riddles.’
Sukey looked offended. She continued in her peculiar, formal manner. ‘I am not talking in riddles! I can only say what I see. She and the Fay are connected.’