From the shadows appeared several Vampyrus. Gently, they eased Melody from my arms, and between them, they carried her away and back into the shadows.
“Where are they taking Melody?” I asked, wanting to go after her.
“For some medical attention,” he said again.
“I fear it might be too late,” I said.
“Nonsense,” Coanda said. “I counted five gunshot wounds. Doctor Ravenwood will have them out in no time at all.”
“Ravenwood?” I gasped.
“That man’s a miracle worker,” Coanda said. “He’ll have your pretty friend back on her feet in no time. Strange though…”
“What is?” I asked him.
“Never seen a female Vampyrus with so many tattoos before,” he said striding away. Then eyeing me, he said, “What were you two doing above ground?”
“Erm…”
“Scouts?” he asked.
“Erm…” I didn’t have the faintest idea as to what he was talking about.
“Never mind, you’re safe from those wolves, for now,” he said striding away.
“Hang on…!” I called after him.
“Don’t have time,” he hollered back as he strode into a tunnel burrowed into the wall of the cavern. “But I’m so glad you showed up. We can do with all the strong, young Vampyrus we can find.”
“Why?” I said, catching up with him.
Coanda stepped out of the tunnel and onto a rocky ledge.
“Why?” he frowned at me. “So you can join our army,” he smiled with a glimmer of excitement in his eyes.
“What army?” I frowned back at him.
“That army,” he said, pointing over the edge of the rocky ledge we were now standing on.
I looked down to discover we were standing above a sprawling canyon. It stretched away into the distance for as far as the eye could see, and so did the army of Vampyrus that filled it.
Taking a deep breath, and unable to stop staring down at the masses of winged creatures below, I said, “Why do you need any army?”
“To invade, of course,” Coanda said.
“Invade where?” I breathed.
“The wolves that live above us, of course,” Coanda said, looking at me as if I should have already known this.
Then, turning to face Coanda, I said, “Who asked you to gather this army?”
“Luke Bishop,” he smiled back at me.
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Kayla
I opened my eyes to find myself at the very same spot from where I had started my journey. Potter was standing next to me in the gap between the two old oak trees. There was still snow on the ground. I pulled my hood up and put my hands in my trouser pockets.
“I’m sorry,” Potter said, looking at me.
“For what?” I asked him, plumes of breath pouring from my nose and mouth.
“That we couldn’t bring Sam back with us,” he said, fishing a cigarette packet from his pocket.
I knew in my heart that despite Potter’s constant bitching about Sam, he meant what he said. I had seen how he had wanted to save Sam in the underground station.
“I know you are,” I said.
“You know if you want to talk…” Potter started.
“No, it’s okay,” I said, believing in my heart I would one day see Sam again. Probably on a beach somewhere, I half-smiled to myself with tears stinging in the corners of my eyes.
With a cigarette dangling once again from the corner of his mouth, Potter looked up at the sky. Dark clouds skidded slowly across it. “Cracks,” he said.
“Huh?” I asked, looking at him.
He pointed upwards. “More cracks.”
“Didn’t Luke say the cracks in the sky were a very bad thing?” I said, staring up at how they spread out across the sky like fractures in a sun-dried bone.
“Very bad for him,” Potter corrected me with a smile.
Then, looping one of his arms through mine, he led me out of the woods.
“Where are we heading for?” I said.
“To find the only person I know who can figure out this fucking mess,” he said, blowing cigarette smoke from the corner of his mouth.
“And who’s that?” I asked him.
“Kiera Hudson,” he smiled.
To be continued in ‘Dead End’ – The final book in Kiera Hudson Series Two.
Coming Soon!
Turn over to read the first three chapters from
‘Stilts’
(Tessa Dark Trilogy)
Book 1
By Tim O’Rourke
Stilts
(Tessa Dark Trilogy)
Book One
BY
Tim O’Rourke
First Edition Published by Hashtag Books
www.hashtagbooks.co.uk
Copyright 2013 by Tim O’Rourke
This book is a work of fiction. The names, characters, places, and incidents are products of the writer’s imagination or have been used fictitiously and are not to be construed as real. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, actual events, locales or organisations is entirely coincidental.
This eBook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This eBook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you’re reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.
Story Editor
Lynda O’Rourke
Book cover designed by:
Tom O’Rourke
Copyedited by:
Carolyn M. Pinard
[email protected]
Chapter One
My elbow crunched into his face. Beau Harris floundered momentarily on his stilts, but was quick to regain his balance. His eyes narrowed as he strutted at speed after me. I raced away, taking giant strides atop of my metal stilts. I covered the ground, circling the inside of the prison walls at an exhilarating pace. With each giant stride, I dashed over the cracked and splintered concrete. The metal soles of my stilts, kicked up plumes of grey dust, as I raced away from Beau. Glancing back, my heart leapt as he bounded after me. The lower half of his usually handsome face was now covered black with blood as it gushed from his nose where I had struck him. His pale blue eyes looked darker now as he raced after me with a grim look of determination on his face. I looked front again just in time to see Chrissie Hucks come leaping at me from my left. I stumbled, trying to dart out of her way. But she was quick. Raising one of her stilts high in the air, she swiped at mine. The sound of metal scrapping against metal was drowned out by the roar of the prisoners who watched the race from the prison walls, the watchtowers, or through the bars of their prison cells – anywhere they could get a good view. The Prison sat high on top of a slither of rock that jutted out of the ocean. Our only connection to the mainland was a narrow bridge of stone, which stretched across the water like a brittle finger. We called the prison the Razor. Waves crashed against the black rocks below, in competition with the roar of the crowd.
With my arms pumping on either side of me, I lurched to the right. I slammed my hand into the prison wall to keep myself upright as my right stilt seemed to almost buckle beneath me. I glanced down to see that the thin aluminium was now dented halfway down the length of the stilt. Pushing myself off the wall, I raced on, but with my right stilt now fractured, my run had now been reduced to nothing more than a limp. With my face wet with sweat, I pushed on. I had to. Losing the race wasn’t an option for me. Winning got me a ticket out of the prison and I could go in search of Joe. If I lost, I faced another year trapped here. Sucking in lungfuls of air, I pushed on.
Chrissie Hucks drew level with me on my left, and Beau Harris strutted alongside on my right. They had me trapped. We were the only three racers left standing. The others lay on the prison yard nursing cuts and bruises and all kinds
of different injuries. Not everyone could master the stilts. Most could master the art of taking a step or two, and some could even circumnavigate the inside of the prison wall if they used it for support like a toddler with a walking frame. But to be able to run at speed, leap, jump, and stay standing while being attacked was a skill that only few really conquered. I was one of them – or I hoped to be. There were only two people in my way, and both of them now raced along on either side of me. I glanced to my right and looked into Beau Harris’ bloodied face. He was grinning at me, his collar-length blond hair snagging in the wind. His teeth were red with blood. I grinned back, pleased with myself that I had temporarily damaged his good looks. Then, glancing to my left, I looked at Chrissie Hucks. Her long, dark hair billowed out behind her like a sheet flapping in the wind. She fixed me with her sharp green eyes and they twinkled with delight as she watched me limp along beside her. She wanted to win as much as I did, perhaps more. Both Beau and Chrissie wanted to win – they wanted to leave the Young Offenders prison together. There was just one race each year and two winners - one male, the other female. It was always the same. They were the rules. I wanted to be the female to win. It was my turn. Joe left last year. He promised he would wait for me on the island. I had to win the race. My racing partner, Richard, had clattered into the prison wall during lap four. On lap five I had glanced down to see him being dragged off the track by two of the prison guards. From my great height I could see that he was holding his arm as if in pain. Gritting my teeth, I dashed on, opening and closing my legs like a giant pair of scissors as I covered the ground, lapping the prison wall. I had to win now – if not for me and Joe, for Richard.
But Beau and Chrissie weren’t going to let that happen. They wanted to leave together, because they were together. There was no secret in that. Just like Joe and I, we had been together. But last year I had been too young to race. I had turned eighteen now, so this was my chance to get out of the prison and get to the island where Joe would be waiting for me. The last year had crawled by. Time had almost seemed to stretch out. Each day and night had been an agonising wait. But I had passed the time by practising to run, leap and bound on my stilts. And each day I had got more nimble, stronger and faster. Even when my legs had ached so much they felt as if every muscle was on fire, when I had fallen and torn open my hands on the exercise yard floor and ripped the flesh from my knees, I had still refused to give up. I wouldn’t be beaten. Not then and not now.
“You can’t win,” Chrissie Hucks grinned at me as I limped along beside her.
My right stilt continued to buckle under my weight and I listed to the right. Beau shoved me away from the wall so I couldn’t regain my balance. I lurched to the left and back towards Chrissie. Smiling, she rolled back her fist and swung at me. I buried my chin in my chest and her fist sailed over the top of my head.
She staggered forward, the momentum of her swipe threatening to topple her over. The crowd roared and punched the air with their fists as Chrissie Hucks wobbled dangerously on her stilts. Raising my head, I sprang forward on my remaining good stilt.
“You suck, Hucks!” I hissed, slamming my shoulder into her back.
She let out a high-pitched cry as she buckled forward. I looked back to see her teetering. It was like watching a tower made of bricks begin to fall. Hucks threw her arms out before her. She was now my target – not Beau. He was an arrogant jerk, but only one male and one female could win the race. If two of the same sex won, the race was forfeited and both lost. Although I didn’t want to go anywhere with Beau, I would need him to still be standing at the end of the race, if I were to leave the prison. Over ten feet tall on her stilts, Hucks continued to stagger forward as she fought to regain her balance. I glanced back over my shoulder to see Governor Banks standing on the finishing line, red flag gripped in his meaty fist. I could limp towards it, but what if Hucks regained her balance? Both she and Beau would surely overtake me before I reached the line. No, I had to make sure she went down. That would mean instant disqualification from the race for her. I could limp across the finish line sometime next week if I wanted to and still be the female winner.
Turning my back on the finishing line and Governor Banks, I hobbled towards Hucks, my shoulder sloped to the right as I tried to remain upright on my stilts. She teetered forward as if in slow motion and I reached for her. With the flats of my hands, I pushed her in the back. She cried out and tumbled forward. Seeing his partner tipping over, Beau raced forward on his stilts at a frightening speed. It was like he had suddenly appeared out of nowhere as he took Chrissie in his arms and righted her.
“Thanks,” she said, then kissed him gratefully on his blooded mouth.
With her lips now looking as if they had been smeared with blackcurrant jam, she turned to face me.
“Bitch,” she hissed as the crowd exploded in a frenzy of delight. Not only was this a race, but it had now turned into a bloody fight. The other young offenders chanted like football supporters from the watchtowers that loomed from the four corners of the prison. They waved their arms through the narrow gaps between the window bars of their cells and scampered along the tops of the prison walls. Even the guards now watched, their faces peering up at us from below.
Chrissie Hucks closed the gap between us in one long stride. I turned, wobbled on my broken stilt, then hobbled away.
“Run, Dark! Run!” the prisoners began to chant in a thunderous chorus.
My heart sped up and even over the roar of the crowd I could hear the sound of Chrissie’s and Beau’s stilts clattering over the cracked surface of the yard. I glanced back just once to see that both were within reaching distance of me. With one small stride of their stilts they could throw me to the ground ten feet below.
“Hey, Tessa! Tessa!” someone cried out from behind me.
Spinning round, I saw a shaven-haired boy pressed against the bars of his cell. His arm dangled between the bars and in his fist he held a broom handle.
“Take it!” he urged me. “Take it!”
“Thanks,” I panted, snatching it from him. I held it up and could see that one end had been sharpened into a vicious looking point. With my attention fixed on the end of the broom, I lost sight of Beau and Chrissie as they strode towards me. Beau hit me first, his fist connecting with my jaw. My head snapped backwards, and for the briefest of moments the world went black. The sound of the cheering crowd became muffled as if my head had been shoved beneath the ocean. Sticky hot blood gushed into my mouth from my now split lip. The blood tasted acrid and bitter. I closed my eyes, and quickly opened them again. Beau was striding out behind me as Chrissie raced towards me. Instinctively, I raised my hands, the sharpened broom handle still clenched in my fist. There was an ear-splitting shriek of pain. I looked into Chrissie’s face, her crisp green eyes now clouding over and dull with pain. Her mouth opened and closed like a drowning fish as she gasped for air. Chrissie’s face had gone corpse-grey. She looked down and I followed her stare. The broom handle was protruding from her left thigh, just above the knee. Her grey washed-out prison trousers were turning black as blood seeped from around the broom handle and the gaping hole it had made in her. Blood flowed down the length of the broom and covered my fingers like hot treacle. I let go of the handle. Chrissie grasped her knee with both hands and lurched forward, her long, dark hair swinging in front of her face.
“Finish her, Tessa,” a voice screeched over the baying crowd.
I glanced to my left to see it was the boy who had given me the broom who had spoken. “Do ‘er!” he urged me, looking straight into my eyes. The crazy grin spread across his face made my skin prickle with gooseflesh. “What you waiting for, Dark? Finish ‘er!”
I looked away from the boy and back at Chrissie. She staggered forward and passed me as she headed towards the finish line. It was then I realised that her desire to leave the prison and get to the island was as great as mine. She was limping just like me now, perhaps slower, so the race was still mine to win. I wobbled
forward on my broken stilt and drew along beside her. Even over the chanting crowd, I could hear a rasping sound in the back of her throat as she sucked in lungful’s of air. With both hands pressed around the bloody stump of the broom handle that jutted from her knee, she shuffled onwards. Looking away, I passed her, the finishing line and Governor Banks growing clearer and bigger with each stride I took. The crowd of fellow inmates whipped into a frenzy. With my heart racing, I stumbled on, the finish line in plain sight now. I thought of Joe waiting for me, and swung the damaged stilt strapped to my leg forward. I had become so fixated on the line that I had forgotten about Beau. It wasn’t until I felt his fists shove me hard in the back that I remembered, despite the fact I had overtaken Chrissie and she was no longer a threat to me, Beau was.
Splaying my arms out before me, I staggered forward. The crowd gasped as one as I lost my balance completely and fell forward. The exercise yard raced up to meet me. I clattered into the ground, the flesh from the balls of my hands looking as if they had been rubbed against a cheese grater. My stilts clattered into the ground, the right one shearing in half. I rolled onto my back and looked up into Beau’s face as he towered over me.
“Good effort, Tessa Dark,” he said without smiling. He armed blood from his mouth. “But not good enough.” He turned away, and in two giant steps, he had his arm around Chrissie and was helping her towards the finish line.
Even if I could stand, I was out. I had fallen. It was over for me. With tears of frustration seething at the corners of my eyes, I made fists with my injured hands and cried out – not in pain – in despair. I watched with tears streaming down my cheeks as Beau Harris and Chrissie Hucks crossed the finish line.
Chapter Two
Dead Lost (Kiera Hudson Series Two (Book 8)) Page 14