beats per minute

by Alex Mae

  ‘No, I learnt from my mistake. This is a new party trick: an excellent form of neuro-muscular blocker. She’ll be paralysed but fully conscious for quite some time. She should manage to keep breathing – for now.’ There was a grunt, and then a barely concealed yelp of pain. The shout of rage was forming in her throat as instinctively as breath before she realised that nothing was coming out. Nothing was forming at all; she had to lie here, useless, as her brother was tortured.

  Sam obviously liked the sound of his own voice. Gloating, smug, it burned into her like hot pokers. ‘Quite a nasty wound you’ve got there mate, haven’t you? I’ve almost a mind to bandage it properly; don’t want you passing out on me again. No way you’re missing out on what I’ve got planned.’

  ‘Do what you want to me. Just leave Raegan out of this. She’s innocent.’

  Quick as a flash, the jovial tone was replaced with a venomous hiss. ‘So was Sebastian, you son of a whore.’ Then, almost as swiftly as it appeared, the nastiness faded; once more, Sam shifted into patronising mateyness. ‘Up you get, now, time to get moving.’

  It was the vacillating between filth and false niceties that was really scary, Raegan realised. Sam sounded completely unhinged. There was more grunting now and a shuffling that sounded like ropes sliding over skin and material. Declan was being moved. He didn’t make a sound. She almost hoped that he had slipped back in unconsciousness; sleep would be better, surely, than what Sam had in mind.

  Numbly, as if the paralysing agent had frozen her heart as well as her limbs, Raegan watched an ant scuttle along the blades of grass centimetres from her nose. As if in a dream, as if it was happening to someone else, she continued to track its progress as she was flipped onto her side with rough hands and hauled into a sitting position.

  Next moment, Sam had crushed the tiny creature underneath his foot.

  She was being hoisted high in the air; she couldn’t feel his hands, but she could see the branches of the trees, some of them now at eye level. She could have almost been flying.

  The hateful fury she had initially felt on hearing his voice had ebbed away into numbness. So had any notion of hope. Sam had been too clever. There was no white charger with a knight this time; no Con swooping out of the sky to save her.

  Soon she would be with her mother again. It did not feel so bad.

  A little voice in her head nagged at her, insisting that this was only a safety mechanism: her body’s way of coping with what was in store. She ignored it. She had to hold onto this feeling; this acceptance. She didn’t want to think of all the things she had not done, all that she had not known. She didn’t want to think of those feelings unexplored, of Declan, Leron; or the faces she would never see again, of Con, Bridey; of Bree and Jasper. There was no point hoping. No point fighting. Soon it would be over.

  Chapter Twenty Two: Fire for Fire

  If only the end had been near, Raegan might have held onto her sense of numb resignation.

  Unfortunately Sam seemed determined to make the final moments last. With a constant flow of patter, he adjusted components of the massive funereal pyre he’d constructed, even consulting hand-drawn plans to ensure everything was just so. Sickeningly, as Raegan was being strapped to the stake, it dawned on her how much thought had gone into this night. While she’d been daydreaming about him, he had been planning; conducting research, constructing diagrams, and carefully coming up with ways to hurt her. It was hideous.

  Finally he turned to Declan, lips bared in a rictus grin. ‘Let’s sort you out now, shall we? You can’t just loll about! No mate, you need a front row seat!’ With bruising, unforgiving hands, he wrenched Declan’s prone form up off the floor, plonking him in a chair set at the edge of the clearing.

  ‘Don’t worry, you won’t fry. Not yet. But you’ll be near enough to smell her flesh burning.’

  Her brother’s face was white with pain now; but still, on he clung, bravely resisting unconsciousness. Sam wrenched his head up by the chin, holding it in place so that there would be no escaping the view. Helplessly he and Raegan gazed at one another. Don’t blame yourself, she willed him to hear her thoughts. It’s not your fault.

  ‘You’ll never get away with this.’ Narrowed to the merest slits, Declan’s eyes glittered dangerously.

  Sam rolled his. ‘No rest for the wicked, no bad deed goes unpunished and bla bla bla. Heard it all before, Dec. Couldn’t you have come up with something more original? Anyway, who is going to ‘get’ me? Haven’t you been listening – I took care of the others. Slipped a nice concoction of rhubarb leaves in their evening meals; should keep them occupied in the infirmary for a few hours.’

  ‘There are worse things than being caught.’

  ‘Like what? What have I got left to lose?’ A hint of bitterness, now.

  ‘Your soul,’ Declan said quietly.

  Sam’s fist tightened convulsively on Declan’s chin, nails disappearing into the flesh. ‘That died when he did.’

  The sudden violence of his departure left a spray of crimson rivulets trickling down Declan’s neck. Sam picked up the petrol can with a shaking hand.

  Then it was Raegan’s turn.

  ‘I am sorry that it has to be like this,’ he said chattily, addressing her for the first time. He unscrewed the cap. Raegan wished she could make the slightest movement to convey her disgust. Even a small curl of the lip would be better than this flabby blankness - and even Christian had allowed her that privilege. This was a type of punishment she could not have imagined. This was true enslavement.

  Sam was dousing the lower section of the pyre now, his movements slow: luxuriating in his moment in the spotlight. The speeches continued.

  ‘I did think about coming clean. We were friends. That part was real... as real as it could have been, since it was based on a lie. It’s all been a lie, Raegan. Did you know? We were all in on it. Our orders were to maintain the deceit. You weren’t supposed to know you had a brother.’ His sovereign ring glinted in the light as he straightened up, smiling sadly at her. ‘You were better off not knowing. Really I’m doing you a favour by ending this now– what kind of life has it been for you, you silly cow? Lied to by your parents, lied to by your teachers, your so-called friends, and finally by your twin. Harsh. But let’s be honest, you were pretty thick not to work it out. Still, now you know!’ Sam shook with soundless, mirthless laughter. ‘And that’s the best part of all! Look at your prize!’ He gestured to where Declan sat. ‘What a twin he is - a coward and a murderer!’

  By this time Raegan was almost glad she could not show her true feelings. Because, despite everything, Sam could still get to her. His words were as scalding as acid thrown in her face; almost as strong as the smell of gasoline, overpowering and pungent, wafting up from beneath. A block of ice thudded into her belly. Were she to make a sound now, it would surely be a scream of pure, abject terror. She did not want to give him a satisfaction.

  ‘He tried to steal my brother from me.’ For the first time there was real pain in Sam’s voice. ‘He was jealous. He didn’t have a twin. He couldn’t join in. But friendship wasn’t good enough. He had to try and push me out.’

  ‘That’s not true.’

  Sam whirled around so fast Raegan hardly saw it. Suddenly deranged, flecks of spittle frothed at the corner of his mouth; his cheeks were a hectic, virulent red. ‘It is true. Sebastian had never tried a drug in his life before you came along; would never have thought of using that stuff if you hadn’t given it to him!’

  ‘He asked me to get it.’ Declan regarded Sam with a mixture of defiance and pity. ‘And I did. For that, I owe you an apology. I was real curious. I knew Magma was meant to have mind-altering properties- I thought maybe through it we could find a way to work together as twins did, and that way I could access my powers. Selfish. But Sebastian was the one who came up with the idea. The one who fronted the cash for the Magma.’

  ‘Liar!’ Sam roared, throwing the empty petrol can on the floor. ‘It was you! All you. But
then when it came down to it, you didn’t have the guts, did you? You let him be your guinea pig and then left him to fend for himself in the fire! That’s why he-he-he couldn’t get out!’ Voice wobbling dangerously, he turned and walked to the edge of the clearing. His shoulders were heaving.

  With urgency Declan fixed his gaze on Raegan. He knew he might not get another opportunity to set her straight. ‘I’m being honest, swear to God. I’m not proud of myself. But I’m no murderer. For Chrissake, Raegan – Sebastian was my best friend!

  ‘I know I should have stopped him taking it, but I was totally naïve. I couldn’t believe that it could be so powerful, or that it could work so fast. But straight after swallowing the pill he just…lost it. We were locked in my room, no-one else around. He got up onto the windowledge – ready to fly, he said - before I tackled him, but he threw me off. Because I’d rushed at him, he got this idea that I was a demon so... he got out his lighter.’ Declan swallowed hard, face tinged green-grey with the effort of talking. ‘He threw it at me. I ducked. Avoided getting torched myself but I’d hung my clothes wall to wall. The flames spread around the whole room. But, still thinking I was a demon, Seb locked the door on me.’

  A tear formed at the corner of his eye. Raegan felt water bloom in her own as if in sympathy, her vision battling against the rising toxic fumes. The paralysis was easing.

  ‘I couldn’t make it to the window. The smoke was too thick. I fell, hard. Couldn’t get up again. Then Seb came back and kicked the door in. I thought he’d come to his senses - boy, was I wrong. But he got me out... pretty much threw me down the stairs. The flames were chasing us. But then - he wouldn’t move! I was standing at the bottom of the stairs, he was at the top, but he was just standing there, staring at the fire. It was so loud. I was yelling at him to hurry up...’ Declan closed his eyes. ‘He ran back into the flames. Before I could get up there, the top of the building blew. They had to pull me out of the rubble.’

  ‘And Sebastian was already dead.’ Sam had rejoined them now. Deathly pale, he swayed where he stood as if ruffled by the breeze lifting the tree branches. ‘Killed in the fire. Because of you.’ Angrily brushing his cheeks, but not before Raegan noticed the water stains, he grabbed a full can of petrol and emptied it. Gone was the precision of before. There was a manic quality to his movements now that Raegan had not seen.

  ‘Now you’ll know what it feels like.’ The can, now empty, clattered to the floor. Teeth bared in a lipless grin, stretched so far they could see the unhealthy white of his tongue, Sam took something out of his pocket and waved it in Declan’s face.

  Declan sucked in a breath. ‘Sebastian’s lighter.’

  ‘As justice goes it is rather poetic. You took my twin from me; now I’ll take yours. Then you’ll join her. The circle completed – all with this flame.’ The lighter flared.

  Declan just looked at him sadly. The words were soft and pitying. ‘Sebastian would be so disappointed in you.’

  ‘Shut up!’ With unmerciful viciousness, Sam cracked his hand back and forth against Declan’s face, over and over again. Finally he landed a series of savage kicks to Declan’s injured chest. Pain lanced through Raegan; she felt the blow as acutely as if it had been to her own ribcage. Her twin crumpled off the chair to the floor, collapsing onto his injured side.

  The knife glinted again, silver and unfriendly against Declan’s cheek.

  ‘You can scrabble on the ground. See what it’s like to be a helpless worm while she dies.’

  As Sam straightened and advanced on the pyre, Raegan could hear his breaths coming in short, harshly excited bursts.

  There was no ceremony. The scream building in her ears died as the lighter flickered in the air and then fell, faster than a knife through butter.

  She could not feel the heat of the great whoosh of flames as they sprung up around her, awful and magnificent by the same token; but she could hear the crackle and roar and the sight was blinding. At this close range, with flames this size, it was like gazing into the sun. She could see nothing else. If she could bypass the mindnumbing fear for a few short moments, she would feel grateful that she’d been spared both the sight of her brother and the agony of being burned alive.

  Gradually, however, she became aware that this was not to be. Her eyes appeared to be growing accustomed to the light and, through the haze, she made out dark shapes: the trees, watching traitorously, the glistening water of the lake, and finally the prone form she had hoped to avoid, now turned towards her. Sam was crouched by him, teeth gleaming with an ugly maroon, forcing her brother’s head up to watch. Declan seemed to have aged a thousand years in a single moment. There was something devastating about seeing such a mouth – a beautifully wide, generous mouth, usually firing insults or chattering nine to the dozen – hanging motionless, frozen in an ‘O’ of anguish.

  The bond she never knew existed tugged at her now, linking them over the fire. She couldn’t bear to watch as it was torn apart.

  And then suddenly she was not. She had shut her eyes.

  The leap of joy was immediately replaced by a hollow dread. If she could close her eyes it meant the drugs were leaving her system. The more the paralysis faded, the more pain she would feel. She began to cough. Her lungs finally felt the weight of the invading toxic fumes.

  As her heart ricocheted against her rib cage, flailing in desperation, she thought how pointless her powers seemed in this moment. Beats per minute might be something she could control outside of the walls of Unit Prime, but it was still a countdown to death.

  She didn’t want to die. God, how she did not want to die.

  Her eyes stung against the acrid smoke but she inched them open. One last look into the horizon. A sudden rush of heat distracted her from the surprising blur of movement in the distance.

  The bottom of her dress had caught fire.

  In fact two things happened at once. With a loud, whistling zip, the material burst into flame; at the same time, a huge armoured vehicle stormed into the clearing. Sam whipped round. A split-second later Declan made his move. Hopelessly weakened, he had somehow managed to escape some of his bindings. He launched himself on top of Sam. Hazy figures were leaping out of the tank, sprinting towards the two men. The clouds of ash were too thick now to make out their faces.

  The smoke choked the scream that tore from her parched throat. The two men were rolling over and over towards the bottom of the pyre, dangerously close to the flames. She barely noticed the fire inching up her body. As heavy and immovable as a stone, she could only wait, staring at the scene unfolding like a horror film.

  And then a figure was soaring up, over the tower of orange and burning red, clearing the blaze by centimetres. It crashed into the stake, clinging on for dear life. Warwick’s fierce dark eyes stared out of an ash-streaked face. A fearsome knife was clenched between his teeth.

  With the deftest, lightest hands, Warwick sawed through the ropes. She sagged against him. The flames from her dress, buffered by his wide body, had not completely died; instead, they licked at his fatigues, greedy for a new victim.

  He ignored them. Still balancing precariously on the pyre, he angled himself between her and the crescendoing fire. Ripping an oversized dark cloth from his shoulders, he wrapped her in it, swinging her up into his arms as if she was a tiny child. Cradling her against his chest, it was only now that he spoke.

  ‘The flames are too high. If we don’t clear them, I’ll have to throw you up. Bree will catch you.’ Though he was shouting at the top of his voice, it sounded disembodied and strange to her ears. Adrenalised by his presence, though too shell-shocked to feel relief, she had felt sharper, more energised. Now she felt the opposite. All strength was leaving her. She was losing focus; instead of the heat growing more intense, it was slipping away. Blackness, instead of burning, orange-tinged lightness, crowded at the edges of her vision.

  She wanted to tell him to forget her, to check on Declan, but the words would not come. Like a huge eagle taking flig
ht, she felt his body leave the ground. Suddenly she wasn’t in the middle of an inferno; she was in Con’s grasp again, flying through the cool night air.

  She did not hold onto consciousness long enough to see where they went.

  Chapter Twenty Three: Twin Beats

  The sun was just rising over St Paul’s as the helicopter landed. The sky was that curious shade of cool London grey, shot through with early morning hues of mauve, vermillion and rose. Wide streets, already bustling with men and women in suits, merged into buildings – some glass-fronted, some with old-fashioned Georgian pillars – that reached up and up as if trying to compete with the sun’s morning ascent.

  The young man and woman looked a bit out of place in their casual clothes, both gripping onto slightly wilted bunches of flowers rather than a caffeine injection. They also walked more slowly than the crowd, eliciting a few barely suppressed sighs of irritation as one suit after another jostled to overtake their snail-like forms.

  The city hadn’t changed much in the time that Raegan had been away. And yet, she reflected, everything looked different.

  By some miracle, they made it out of the Labyrinth. Warwick’s quick thinking saved her life but the smoke inhalation would cause lasting damage. This did not seem to faze the healers. They simply prepared some mystical concoction and packaged it in the form of a snappy little inhaler, instructing her to use it whenever she felt short of breath. She took a puff now, ruefully noting how slow they were walking. Her lungs felt pretty useless nowadays. Still, as she glanced down at the pale hands tucking her inhaler back in her pocket, as strong as ever and without the slightest trace of even a rope burn, she was overwhelmed with passionate relief. She was standing upright. Her heart was beating. It was over.

  Declan and Sam, however, had been fully submerged in flame for a good few minutes before Bree managed to get them out.

  Any civilian would have died then and there. But even with the impressive skill of the healers and his own abilities, the trauma had been too much for Sam. In the end, his unwavering determination to beat Declan had been his undoing: just before they rolled into the flames, Sam flipped over and on top of Declan, fixated on regaining the upper hand to the extent of inadvertently exposing himself to the brunt of the fire. He died before the night was over.