‘No,’ said Cassie flatly. ‘Where’s Ranjit, Katerina?’
With a trilling laugh, Katerina used a claw-hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. ‘She’s right, Jake. I don’t need Ranjit’s help. You think I don’t know these ancient labyrinths? I know them all, in every city. I’ve known them for centuries.’
‘And you’re looking your age,’ said Cassie.
Katerina hissed. ‘You are a pair of fools. She won’t thank you, you know,’ she told Jake and Isabella, jerking her head in Cassie’s direction. ‘In the end she won’t. In fact she’ll want you dead for that stupid interruption.’
Jake set his teeth. ‘Get out of our way, Katerina. I don’t want to hurt you.’
‘No, seriously. You think I take orders from Scholarships?’ A long tongue flickered out to lick Katerina’s teeth as the horrible peeled-back grin returned. ‘You think you can hurt me? You don’t know me very well, do you? Scooby.’
Jake’s intake of breath was high-pitched. ‘What did you say?’
‘You heard. Scooby-dooby-doo. I can’t tell you how loud she screamed for you, at the end. Didn’t she ever use your real name?’
Jake seemed paralysed, though he was shaking. The knife hung limp and useless in his hand; any moment now it was going to slip from his fingers.
‘You,’ he said, barely audible. ‘It was you?’
The vicious mouth twisted in a sneer. ‘Oh, do grow up, Scooby. Of course it was me. Well, Keiko and me. Ranjit simply delivered her, that’s all.’
Anxiously Cassie glanced at Jake. She couldn’t even see him breathing, but she thought she could hear the hard thump of his heart.
‘There was only a year between you two meddling kids, wasn’t there? How close you must have been, you and Jess.’
‘Yes,’ whispered Jake.
‘And you will be again. Let’s finish this quickly.’ Frowning, Katerina examined a nail like a yellow talon, dull and gnarled. ‘I need to go and see my roommate.’
‘Oh?’ Isabella simmered with fury. ‘Hungry?’
‘Frankly, yes. Ingrid is delicious, and cooperative. Unlike Jessica. I’m sorry to say it, Jake, but your sister was a little sour, a little bitter. All that running, you see, all that fear. All that adrenal—’
Jake roared and leaped at Katerina, slashing wildly with the knife. She dodged like a snake, escaping his grip and wrapping a powerful arm around his throat. Isabella went for her, screaming, but Katerina twisted Jake’s neck back and ducked the swing of the polo mallet. Rebalancing, she kicked out hard, catching Isabella in the stomach and knocking her stunned and winded to the floor.
Cassie’s blood felt so cold in her veins she couldn’t move. Katerina’s claws were digging into Jake’s neck and he tore desperately at her arm, dropping the knife. Instantly, Cassie knew it was what she’d been waiting for. She dived for the knife, snatched a hank of Katerina’s hair with the other hand and, as the Swede squealed with pain, she swung the blade wildly across Katerina’s cheek. Blood sprayed.
Oops, thought Cassie, still gripping the girl’s monstrous head. What now …?
After a second’s horrible silence, Katerina howled. Her grip on Jake loosened enough to let him catch a lungful of air, but she didn’t let him go.
‘Amateur!’ she screamed in Cassie’s face. ‘How dare you!’
Cassie wasn’t expecting the force of Katerina’s blow. It knocked her to the far side of the passageway, and as she crashed against the wall the knife fell from her fingers and spun across the floor. Katerina lunged for it, her fingers closing on the writhing handle while the other claw-hand kept a grip on Jake’s throat. Cassie tried to scramble to her feet but her head was spinning crazily again. A few feet away, Isabella was still trying to suck breath into her lungs. The blade of the knife shone as Katerina raised it.
‘Now watch Jake die,’ she smiled.
But something moved faster than the blade, slamming hard into Katerina, knocking her sprawling. Dropping both Jake and the knife, wailing with rage and fear, Katerina kicked and fought uselessly against her new attacker. She looked, thought Cassie, like a leopard trying to fight off a tiger. When the two writhing, struggling bodies tumbled against the passage wall, Cassie saw the tiger clearly. Ranjit.
His teeth were viciously bared, and his eyeballs, like Katerina’s, were red from corner to corner. His powerful hands found her throat and Katerina squirmed, rasping for breath, lashing her claws across his face and drawing blood. But far more of it leaked from the knife-gash in her own cheek; Ranjit’s hands were soaked in it. Finally wrenching his blood-slick fingers loose, Katerina screamed hoarsely and gave him a savage kick in the chest. He stumbled back, and she scrambled on to all fours, spitting.
‘Get out of my sight, dark-sister,’ growled Ranjit. ‘Before I kill you.’
‘Never,’ hissed Katerina, one bloody hand clutching her cheek. ‘Never. It’s her I’ll kill. Oh, you won’t kill me.’
She stared at him greedily for a moment. Then she leaped to her feet, and ran.
For what seemed an age, the four of them stood in silence. Jake was the first to move, lifting Isabella to her feet. Cassie was not at all sure her roommate needed to press so close against Jake, or hang quite so limply in his arms, but what the hell. Cassie managed a smile, but it died as Jake leaned down and fumbled once again for the knife. It trembled in his fingers as he pointed the tip of it at Ranjit. His mouth was twisted with rage.
‘Katerina said you … said you delivered her. To be killed.’
Ranjit didn’t blink. His eyes were normal again, if dull, and the skin of his face was pale and taut. ‘She was lying. How could I hurt Jess? I loved her.’
‘You didn’t help Katerina?’
‘No. I had arranged to meet Jess. But I was late, somebody delayed me. It was deliberate, I realised that afterwards, but I was too stupid to see it at the time. I swear, Johns— Jake. I didn’t kill her, and I didn’t take her to be killed.’
For the first time, Jake looked uncertain.
‘So why was she?’ he asked, and in the terrible silence added quietly, ‘Killed.’
‘Katerina.’ Ranjit shrugged helplessly. ‘I didn’t know how much she … how much she—’
‘Wanted Jess out of the way?’ said Cassie, realisation dawning. ‘So she could have you all to herself?’
He gave her a long, unhappy look. ‘Yes.’
‘And what about Keiko?’
Ranjit sighed. ‘She used to be Jess’s best friend, before she was chosen. But after she joined the Few, she changed. Became more reckless – dangerous, even. She was crazy enough to go along with Katerina just for the hell of it.’
Cassie didn’t say anything. If she opened her mouth she’d say, And who delayed you, Ranjit? Who was it that held you back long enough for them to kill Jess?
But the truth was, she didn’t want to know.
Ranjit lowered his head. ‘But even though I didn’t hurt Jess, it’s my fault Katerina and Keiko knew where to find her, so it’s my fault that she’s dead. I’m sorry, Jake. So sorry.’
To Cassie’s ears, he sounded more than sorry. He sounded heartbroken. No wonder the guy had been keeping the rest of the school at arm’s length. It wasn’t snobbery, it was pain. How could anyone cope with that sort of guilt?
Cassie reached out for the knife, sliding her hand gently over Jake’s and squeezing it. ‘Jake? I think he’s telling the truth. Please?’
His fingers tightened, holding the knife rigid, then suddenly went limp, and Cassie eased the knife away. Turning to Ranjit, she held it out to him.
‘No.’ He took a step back, wary. ‘It’s Jake’s now.’
Jake stood there stiffly, still angry and confused. But as Cassie watched, Isabella slipped her arms comfortingly round his waist. A moment later, he put his arms round her, too.
‘Take it, Jake,’ said Cassie. ‘Please.’
He looked at the knife for what seemed like an age. But when his mind was made up, he reached out and gripped it,
grim and certain.
‘What about the others?’ Cassie pointed back down the dark passageway.
‘They won’t follow yet. Not without Katerina. They were just supposed to keep me occupied while she got to you. We … argued.’ Wincing, Ranjit touched a deep gouge on his forearm. ‘But they saw my point of view in the end. Still, I suggest we go quickly.’ He raised his head. ‘If Jake will let me.’
Jake hesitated, tensing. Isabella squeezed his shoulders. ‘He took us to Cassie,’ she whispered. ‘He helped us.’
The air in the passageway, cold as it was, seemed heavy and oppressive.
‘Jake, do you believe me?’ Ranjit asked. ‘About Jess?’
‘Why would I?’
Ranjit gave a tiny shrug. ‘No reason. Except I’m telling you the truth.’
‘Maybe,’ said Jake.
‘Will you trust me, then?’ Ranjit sounded almost desperate.
Jake took Isabella’s hand firmly in his, and turned towards the hidden door.
‘No. But I’ll pretend I do. For now.’
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
Stupid pyjamas. Shouldn’t these be too small for her? They were baggy and misshapen and faded; she remembered them well. She tugged out the shapeless hem and scowled down at the Bratz pictures all over the fabric. Wasn’t she too old for these?
The corridor was in darkness. But a shadow moved, thin and malevolent as a crow. A click-click of heels. Jilly Beaton, checking to see if the children were OK. Because if they were, something must be done …
She grinned.
No hurry. No fear. Cupping her hands against the landing window, Cassandra peered down into the scruffy yard. One of the bins was upended, rubbish disgorged over the cracked concrete. That must have been what had woken her. A scrawny fox rooted around in the debris, but as if feeling her gaze, it froze and stared back at her, one forepaw still raised.
She smiled at it. The fox turned back to the spilled bin, and she turned back to the stalking shadow. It had paused outside Lori’s door, pressing an ear to the thin wood to drink in the girl’s homesick sobs. How old was Lori? Eight. Same age Cassandra had been when Jilly started destroying her from the inside out.
Tutting silently, she shook her head and followed. How had the woman got this far? Right to the door of Lori’s room? Oh, yes. Because she’d let her. Poor, poor Jilly. A rat in a trap, she was.
Now, what to do? A threat to go to the authorities? Phone Patrick and demand he listen? Or simply raise hell and the whole house?
Nah.
Jilly had placed a hand on Lori’s door, had started to turn the handle, but she stopped at a sound. Turned. Stared.
Hello, Jilly.
The woman’s smile of sadistic anticipation died, and she shrank away as Cassandra walked towards her. Cassandra was only ten years old but the woman was terrified of her! She laughed. If this was a memory there was something wrong with it – she’d never dared confront Jilly when she was ten. But who cared? This was delicious. The woman cowered, whimpering.
Pathetic. Just like that senator’s wife, Flavia Augusta, the one who’d tried to poison her. Pathetic, like the greedy priest in Renaissance Turin, the one with the not-very-celibate appetites. Like the foppish Lord Acton when she’d caught him alone – Christmas, 1790, wasn’t it? – slow and staggering with drink and lust. They’d all been terrified of her, in the end.
Quite right too.
On to this one, then. Cassandra hated her. She’d made Cassandra afraid, she’d made her hate herself. She’d tried to suck out Cassandra’s soul, and that wouldn’t do. It wouldn’t do at all. Well, now it was the woman’s turn to be afraid, and wasn’t she just! That was an understatement. She looked as if she might soil herself.
A kiss then, dear Jilly! One little fond kiss! Just to show there’s no hard feelings. Just to show how it feels, to be drained of one’s self. One kiss …
She put a hand on either side of the woman’s head. Bending down, she smiled right into her eyes and squeezed, crushing those tight, vicious lips into a parody of a pout. And through her distorted mouth, the woman began to scream.
Behind the door, undisturbed, Lori sobbed herself softly to sleep.
But Cassie jerked awake.
*
She hadn’t screamed out loud; Isabella’s reassuring snores went on without interruption. Willing her heartbeat to slow down, Cassie rubbed the back of her neck. On her face she could feel a cold breath of December air: the window was open. A window on to Paris, not Cranlake Crescent. She wasn’t a ten-year-old in Bratz pyjamas; these ones might be cheap but they were her size. And if there was anything lurking outside, it was no urban fox.
What a dream. What a nightmare.
Slipping out of bed, she padded to the window and leaned right out, gulping in cold air. It made her dizzy.
Careful. You might fall.
‘Of course I won’t fall!’
Stiffening, she stared out at the web of lights that was the city. That hadn’t really been a murmuring voice in her ear. So why had she answered it?
‘Estelle?’ she whispered.
Nothing. She breathed deeply. This was stupid.
What’s stupid about justice, my dear? You could have it, you know that.
‘What?’
You know what’s possible. You know what you want. You promised me you’d take what you want. You promised me.
Cassie recoiled, gripping the windowsill, staring fixedly into the night.
You let her get away with it, Cassandra. Didn’t you?
‘What was I supposed to do? What could I do? Nothing!’
Because you were scared. That’s all. Let me in, Cassandra! Let me in and you’ll never be scared again. Of anyone! Together, you and me! Let me in!
Silence, a long dragging silence. She was imagining the voice, Cassie decided. She was sleepwalking. That was all. Hallucinating.
One day we’ll find her, Cassandra.
She put her hands over her ears. ‘Go away!’
She’ll be there for us. Easy meat. LET ME IN!
‘NO!’
‘Cassie?’ Isabella’s sleepy grunt made her jerk away from the window and turn. ‘Cassie, what’s wrong? Who are you talking to?’
‘Nobody!’ Cassie’s voice shook. ‘Sorry, Isabella, I was dreaming.’
‘Beside the window?’ Isabella sat up, sceptical.
‘I was, um … getting some air. I started to doze off. Go back to sleep.’
‘Are you OK?’
‘Fine.’ Cassie turned back to the night, and muttered, ‘We’re fine.’
She waited until Isabella’s breathing deepened and a snore rattled out, then she tiptoed to the bathroom. Tugging down her pyjama top, she peered at her shoulder blade in the mirror. The mark wasn’t as clear and defined as Richard’s, and it didn’t burn fiercely like Keiko’s had done as she died. It looked a little blurred, and there seemed to be lines missing, places where the pattern was broken. But it was there.
She wouldn’t sleep now. Trying her hardest to be quiet, she eased open the wardrobe and pulled out the dress Isabella had insisted on buying for her. For Heaven’s sake, Cassie! Shut up and call it an early Christmas present!
Versace: the one she couldn’t pronounce. Cassie grinned. The fabric rustled as she laid it on her bed, and she paused, but Isabella didn’t stir. She never did, thought Cassie fondly. Cassie hadn’t had a single unbroken night’s sleep since the events at the Arc two weeks earlier, but none of her night-time pacings had disturbed her roommate. The sign of an easy conscience, of course.
Cassie stroked the beautifully cut dress. It felt cool and rich and smooth: everything she wasn’t. She couldn’t think how she was going to carry it off, but maybe it was fabulous enough to eclipse her lack of confidence. Was the taffeta greenish-yellow or yellowish-green? She couldn’t decide. Isabella said it matched her eyes.
Shame she didn’t have a partner for the ball. She couldn’t even use Richard, she thought guiltily. He’d been a
voiding her like a virus. A contagious, fatal one. In fact he’d barely spoken to anyone since he’d been called to Sir Alric’s office, the day after the ceremony at the Arc. God knew what Sir Alric had said to him, but it had left Richard silent and ashamed and, thought Cassie, a touch resentful. He wasn’t himself.
Hah. Not himself: that was for sure.
Neither, of course, was she.
Richard had got off lightly, and so had the others, compared to their ringleader. From the tree-shaded colonnade, Cassie had watched Katerina’s elegant exit from the Darke Academy, just twenty-four hours after she’d fled from them in monstrous form. The blonde beauty had sashayed down the steps, head high, hair and skin shining like any normal prom queen’s. She’d worn big dark glasses, blood-red lipstick, and a brand new diagonal scar on her cheekbone. That, thought Cassie, had healed remarkably quickly, but it wasn’t going to go away entirely. How did the immaculate Hitchcock blonde feel? she wondered. About scarring, disgrace, expulsion? Was she regretful? Not likely. Vengeful?
Sir Alric had stood at the top of the steps, watching Katerina until she slid gracefully into the black limousine and the chauffeur had closed the door. Then he’d turned, and his eye caught Cassie’s, just for a moment.
She was sure he’d shivered.
For two weeks Cassie had waited in trepidation for her own summons to his office, but it had never come. Darke seemed to be avoiding her almost as keenly as Richard was. Not that either of them would be able to avoid her tonight. It was the Christmas Ball. And everyone, even if they no longer felt like it, was required to go.
Despite recent events, the whole school was buzzing with subdued excitement. She couldn’t feel any of it. The preparations, the plans, the gossip and anticipation: none of them meant anything. The Darke Academy was finished for her. It was finished with her.
She wouldn’t see its enigmatic founder again. He was going to leave Cassie to work this mess out for herself, that was clear. She was an embarrassment, a mistake, a nasty accident dumped on him by a few of his indisciplined favourites. Sir Alric Darke probably couldn’t wait to see the back of her. Well, Cassie didn’t care. She was anxious, frightened, confused, but she didn’t care.
Secret Lives Page 16