‘I bet it’s worth a fortune,’ she remarked. ‘Y’know, at night it looks incredible. There’s sort of an optical illusion. The carvings seem to move.’
‘They’re so realistic, aren’t they?’ Isabella touched the knife, then snatched her hand back. ‘I don’t like it, though.’
‘I do,’ said Cassie.
‘I don’t like it or dislike it.’ Jake rewrapped the blade and tucked it back inside his jacket. ‘It’s evidence, that’s all.’
‘Evidence of what?’ said Cassie. ‘That’s not proof of anything, unless Keiko’s wacky DNA’s on it. Or ours. And then it’s you and me in trouble, cowboy.’
‘I know, I know. But there must be more to find.’
Sniffing, Isabella rubbed her nose violently. It was turning red. ‘Well. How do we find more? Where to start?’
‘We need connections with the Few, that’s obvious.’ Jake frowned. ‘They’re at the heart of it.’
Isabella shrugged. ‘Cassie and I have both been interviewed. At least one of us must be chosen.’
He shook his head. ‘I don’t like that idea.’
‘Yeah, but you’re not calling the shots, are you?’ said Cassie. ‘What’s the worst that can happen? One of us gets to be a member, we find out as much as we can, then we say it was a mistake, we don’t have the time, we need to study … something. Resign from the Few.’
‘I don’t think anybody gets to resign from the Few,’ said Jake.
‘I have never heard of it,’ agreed Isabella. She took a deep breath. ‘What about Ranjit?’
Jake froze. ‘What about him?’
‘He is the most important. He is practically Head Boy. They are all afraid of him, haven’t you noticed? And I think he likes Cassie. He has the – what do you say? – the hots for her.’
‘You’re wrong,’ muttered Cassie. ‘He can never wait to get out of my company.’
‘I don’t think that is true, you know. I have seen how he stares at you.’
‘That’s because of how she looks,’ said Jake bitterly. ‘She’s the ghost at his cosy little banquet. No way can Cassie get involved with him. It’s too dangerous. Who knows what he’d do if she got too close? Maybe that’s what happened to—’ He fell silent.
Isabella rubbed her arms. ‘Richard, then?’
Sighing, Cassie trailed a finger through the icy skin on the water, till she realised the others were still watching her in silence. ‘Look, Richard doesn’t have much influence,’ she protested. ‘Some of the Few don’t think he should have proposed me. Ranjit doesn’t like him, and Katerina treats him like a pet. He probably doesn’t know anything worth knowing.’
‘He’s still our only point of contact,’ said Jake. ‘And he definitely likes you. If he isn’t in on the main clique, you could at least get friendly with the others through him.’
‘Get him to take you to the Christmas Ball,’ suggested Isabella. ‘That would not be difficult.’
‘Yeah?’ snapped Cassie. ‘If it’s that easy, why doesn’t Jake ask him to the flaming Christmas Ball. Richard fancies him too, doesn’t he?’
‘Look, I know you feel bad about using him,’ said Jake, ‘but Richard would use you if he needed to. That’s what he’s like. He wouldn’t have a moment’s hesitation, Cassie.’
‘I’m not so sure. He’s OK, you know. Richard.’ Her cheeks were burning, even in the frosty air.
‘It’d be safer than trying to get information out of Ranjit,’ pointed out Jake.
Cassie sighed, beaten. ‘I’ll try, then, OK? But I’m not promising anything.’
‘I appreciate it. Thanks, Cassie.’ Lifting the oars, Jake began to pull the boat back round a little island and towards shore. ‘You know we’re the only idiots out in a boat?’
‘I am not surprised,’ Isabella sniffled. ‘The boatman, he thought we were crazy people.’
‘We are crazy people,’ murmured Cassie. ‘Do we know what we’re getting into?’
‘Hell, no!’ Jake grinned. ‘Life’s a challenge, huh?’
A loud burst of music made them all jump, and the boat rocked slightly. Cassie fumbled with cold hands in her coat pocket.
‘Sorry,’ she said sheepishly, pulling out her phone and staring at the display. She raised her eyebrows. ‘You’re not going to believe who this is.’ She flipped it open. ‘Hi, Richard.’
Jake hunched forward, letting the oars rest and drip water. Isabella huddled closer to Cassie, trying not to let her teeth chatter too loudly.
‘The Bois de Boulogne, if you can believe it … Yeah, it’s bloody cold.’ Cassie laughed and bit her lip. ‘With Isabella …’ A small hesitation. ‘… and Jake … Yeah, well, I didn’t see you after class was cancelled … Yes, course I looked. You’d gone.’ Making a face at Jake, she crossed her fingers.
There was a moment’s silence on the other end of the phone, and Cassie pressed it closer to her ear, a little anxious. ‘Of course I’m not avoiding you. Where did you go anyway? Oh! Nôtre Dame!’ Cassie raised an eyebrow at Jake, and he brushed imaginary sweat from his forehead in relief. ‘I didn’t think you were that obedient …’
After another pause, she laughed again. ‘Course I will. What time? … That sounds great, Richard. Anyway, see you later, probably.’
She snapped the phone shut. ‘Mission accomplished,’ she said, a little unhappily.
‘Mission in motion,’ said Jake darkly. ‘Hardly accomplished. You got a date?’
‘The Arc de Triomphe. Tomorrow. It’s a really special day, he says. He wants to show me something spectacular. I feel like a worm.’
Isabella patted her hand. ‘Listen, sound him out carefully, hm? Maybe he will even want to help us.’
‘Maybe.’
Jake pulled hard on the oars again. ‘Thanks, Cassie. A lot. You’re doing the right thing, you know that.’
‘I know that.’ Uneasily she surveyed the wintry parkland.
‘So don’t worry,’ Jake chivvied. ‘It’s only a date. What can go wrong with that? And you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do.’
‘Yeah. I dunno, though.’ Cassie licked her lips; they felt dry and cracked in the frosty air.
‘Don’t know what?’
‘I’ve got a really bad feeling about tomorrow.’
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
‘Incredible, isn’t it?’ Richard squeezed her shoulders.
Setting behind the Arc de Triomphe, the sun was a golden fire. As the dazzle intensified, it lit the edges of the Arc and turned into a halo of flame. The whole structure seemed ablaze.
Catching her breath, Cassie felt Richard’s fingers move towards her neck. She couldn’t speak, but she wasn’t sure if that was down to desire or fear.
‘It’s the anniversary of the Battle of Austerlitz. Napoleon’s greatest victory. The one day every year when the sun sets in line with the Arc and the Champs-Elysées. Magnifique,’ he murmured in her ear, ‘n’est-ce pas?’
‘You bet,’ she breathed.
They stood immobile until the light faded and the tourists around them had pocketed their digital cameras and dispersed in a babel of languages. Richard still held her tightly, and Cassie felt weak.
‘Come on, or we’ll miss the view!’ He broke into a run up the Champs-Elysées. Cassie ran after him, but he didn’t even slow down as he approached the maelstrom of traffic beneath the Arc.
‘Are you crazy?’ she yelled. She slid to a halt as he ran out between cars and motorcycles, oblivious to the blare of horns. For a fraction of a second she hesitated, but it seemed like a challenge, and she’d half-caught his madness. Grinning, she took a deep breath and pelted out through the traffic.
Insanity. She didn’t know how she made it through. The screech of tyres and the scream of horns almost deafened her, the strobing headlights half-blinded her, but she felt like some fish or bird with a sixth sense, as if nothing could touch her. And she was right, she thought with a surge of fierce delight, as she hurdled the row of low bollards around
the Arc. Dammit, she was immortal tonight!
‘Cassie Bell, I knew you were perfect!’ whooped Richard, seizing her and whirling her round. ‘I knew it!’
‘Sure I am,’ she gasped. ‘But we’re going to get arrested.’
‘Nah. Come on!’
The golden glow was gone from the stone, and from its elaborate carvings and friezes. Instead, floodlights gave the Arc a ghostly aura, casting horses and soldiers into eerie relief. There was a chill in the air; it was getting late. Now the roar of traffic seemed far away.
‘Two hundred and eighty-four steps,’ he laughed. ‘I’ll race you!’
God, he was fit. Gamely, Cassie kept up with him as he took the first hundred steps up inside the Arc two at a time, and she wasn’t so far behind when he stumbled out at the top and pulled her after him. Recovering her breath, she watched the blue night fall on Paris. She didn’t know if the obstruction in her throat was down to the view or to her nagging guilt, but even the facetious Richard seemed struck sober. In the dusky air, it seemed as if every detail of the city came alive. Distantly, Sacré Coeur gleamed above Montmartre like a white pearl.
‘Told you you’d like it,’ he whispered.
She swallowed. ‘It’s amazing.’ She liked him too, that was the trouble.
‘You want to see something even better than this? Even better than the sunset?’
‘Come off it.’
‘No, really. I’m serious. There is something better. Trust me!’
She realised that for the last hour she’d forgotten what she was supposed to be doing. In the dimming evening, as traffic swirled around the Arc and the city sparked into colour and life, it was hard to read Richard’s expression. Don’t trust him, Jake had said. But she couldn’t help it. She shook her head.
‘Course I trust you. It’ll have to be pretty amazing to beat all this, though.’
‘Believe me, it’s more than pretty amazing.’
Reluctantly Cassie let him drag her away from the silver spiky railings and back to the steps. ‘What’s the hurry?’
‘You have a great head for heights, don’t you?’
‘Uh-huh. Can you slow down a bit, though?’ Head for heights or not, she wouldn’t want to stumble and fall on the stairs, yet Richard was springing down them so fast she could hardly keep up. Brimming with excitement, he could hardly contain himself and he didn’t seem to have heard her. Cassie yanked hard on his hand.
‘Whoa!’ she panted crossly, managing to drag him to a halt.
‘Sorry!’ He gave her a sweet, apologetic smile. ‘Got carried away.’
‘So did I, nearly. Take it easy, there’s loads of time.’
‘Not as much as you think.’ His eyes were so bright they were almost feverish. ‘Come on!’
She let go of his hand, feeling safer that way as she ran down the steps behind him. He dodged nimbly past other tourists, his enthusiasm infectious, and she found herself laughing as they jumped together to the bottom.
‘I’m waiting for the revelation,’ she teased.
‘Almost there, Cassie Bell.’ He grinned at her and blew a lock of dark hair out of his eyes. ‘Are you ready for the surprise of your life?’
‘Am I going to like it?’
‘That depends on you. But I reckon I know you quite well.’
‘So what do you reckon,’ she said, ‘knowing me so well?’
‘Babe, I think you’re going to love it!’
His fingertips hooked round a corner of stone, delicately stroked the edge of a huge block. As he glanced around a little nervously, so did she, but there were fewer tourists here beneath the arch, only a small party absorbed in the flickering flame on the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier and distracted by their guide.
Richard gave her a solemn wink, and pushed gently, and the block of stone swung silently wide.
She gaped. ‘What the—’
‘Shh! Quick!’ He squeezed her arm. ‘Go on, or they’ll see us!’
‘But where does it—’
‘There’s gendarmes over there,’ he whispered. ‘Hurry up!’
She swore, giggling, and pushed past him to edge into the darkness of the chamber. Swiftly he eased in after her, fumbling at the stone again from the inside until the hidden door swung shut again.
The blackness was solid, the cold gripping. Cassie shut her eyes and opened them again, but it made no difference. There was a faint smell of dry stone and fragrant smoke, a sweetness in the air that was not entirely pleasant. Cassie’s heartbeat quickened.
‘Richard?’ Her voice echoed eerily.
‘It’s OK, I’m here. Hang on a sec.’ With the rasp of a Zippo lighter, a flame leaped into life. Cassie blinked.
Stone walls, faintly golden like the Arc, closed in on her from two sides, but surprisingly she couldn’t make out the ceiling: it receded too far into the shadows. At their backs the door was solidly shut, but the darkness beyond the flame wound downwards with no limit in sight. Obviously there was a passageway: a long one. Cassie held her breath, straining to listen. Was that a faint rustling, or … slithering?
Dumb thing to think. She rubbed her arms briskly. ‘This is … amazing. But I’m not sure I love it.’
‘Wait. There’s lights, proper ones. If I can just find the … ah. Let me go past.’ He squeezed past her in the narrow chamber, and turned, smiling at her expectantly in the dancing Zippo flame.
‘The switch?’ she prompted.
An explosion of pain in her head. Her whole body snapping forward. The stone floor slamming up to meet her.
And then even the last light, from the small brave flame, went out.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
A headache like nothing she’d ever felt. It sawed into her brain like a cold knife and when she tried to open her eyes, the light burned. She squeezed them shut again, feeling another lance of pain. Migraine? She didn’t get migraines. Had she been drinking? She tried to roll on to her side and fumble for a paracetamol.
No. She couldn’t move. Her arms were stretched above her head and she couldn’t shift them. When she tried, sharp stabs raced through her shoulders, and something cut into her wrists.
She opened her eyes again. Her vision was blurred, but she could make out that the room was not terribly bright at all. The wall sconces were dim, flickering.
There’s lights! Let me go past …
Richard. She remembered. Oh God.
She tried to kick out. That was no good either; her feet were restrained too. She was stretched tightly on some kind of stone table, smooth and hard beneath her back. She still wore her jeans and her thin T-shirt, but she was barefoot, and bitterly cold. Her hooded top and her jumper were gone. Panicking, she writhed again, and metal bit against her wrists and ankles. She gave a sharp cry of fear.
A hand stroked her forehead. She tried desperately to focus, still fighting her bonds.
‘Hush, now. Quiet. Don’t hurt yourself. We don’t want you hurt, Cassie.’
The male voice was muffled by some kind of hood. She thought she knew who was speaking, but she couldn’t be sure. Nor could she answer, since her breathing was harsh and high-pitched and panic tightened her throat.
‘Does your head hurt? I’m so sorry that was necessary.’
Cassie tried to focus, tried not to panic. That faint scent of fragrant smoke was stronger now, but whatever was burning, it didn’t take the edge off the chill.
‘We were afraid you’d resist. It looks as if we were right.’
She sensed a smile beneath the dark crimson hood, but there was no way of knowing for sure, since the only holes in it were narrow eye slits. ‘Don’t worry. Soon you won’t feel such pain. Not ever again.’
That remark dried her mouth altogether. She licked her lips, but it didn’t help. ‘Am I going to die?’ she managed to croak.
Laughter. ‘What a ridiculous idea.’
‘Is it?’
‘Of course it is. Cassie Bell, you’re not just going to live. You’re going to live as you
’ve never lived before.’
The figure stepped back, so that she could see up into the darkness of the chamber. Now that her eyes had adjusted, she could make out most of it. The torches cast leaping shadows on to the ceiling, where she could make out carved creatures in the stone. They reminded her of something else, if only she could think straight.
Oh, yes. The knife. The monsters and demons above her were like the ones carved on that ancient hilt. And just like those ones, the carvings above her seemed to move.
No, they didn’t seem to move. They were moving. Biting back a scream, Cassie fought and tugged on her bonds, feeling blood on her wrists, blood on her ankles, and not caring.
‘That’s enough. Shh. You are not permitted to hurt yourself.’ The voice was stern as someone else stepped forward, and Cassie went still. Struggling made her head hurt too much anyway. With an effort she turned her aching head to meet another slitted gaze, another crimson hood.
‘I’m so pleased for you.’ This time the distorted voice was feminine, the accent tantalisingly familiar. ‘So pleased, Cassie. We shall be great friends.’
The hooded girl wore a key on a long gold chain around her neck. Behind her stood more sinister shapes. There was a whole circle of them. At least one of them wasn’t disguised.
‘Richard?’
The uneasy guilt left his face. With a forced grin he stepped forward, stretching out a hand to touch her manacled ones. When she only stared back, he linked his fingers through hers, and squeezed nervously.
‘Good news, Cassie! You’ve been chosen!’
‘I’ve been what?’ This time she managed to bark it.
‘Chosen. Accepted! You’re one of us now. One of the Few!’
‘Not quite yet,’ murmured the first figure. ‘But soon.’
‘Cassie, I knew, didn’t I? Didn’t I tell you you’d be perfect? You’re chosen!’
She spoke through clenched teeth. ‘What if I don’t want to be chosen?’
Secret Lives Page 14