February

by Gabrielle Lord

  ‘I’ll tell you my name when we get there,’ she said.

  ‘Get where? I thought we were just getting away.’

  ‘Now you’re going to help me.’

  ‘Is that right? You could have just asked for my help,’ I suggested. ‘Nobody likes being bossed around, especially not by some nameless girl.’

  With one hand on her hip, she stared back at me with intense eyes. ‘All right. My name is Winter,’ she said. ‘Winter Frey. Happy?’

  ‘Fancy name,’ I said.

  ‘Fancy suits me,’ she replied.

  I was trying to think of something funny to say back when a car turned onto the road ahead, about a block away. I didn’t wait to see if it was the black Subaru; I just grabbed Winter’s hand and hauled her off the footpath and into a bushy driveway. I let go of her, but not before noticing a tiny tattoo of a bird on the inside of her left wrist. She pulled away quickly, protectively folding her arms, and we both huddled down, sneaking glimpses of the car slowly rolling past.

  ‘Sligo’s car,’ she hissed.

  We waited, hidden in the darkness, until we were sure that the car had gone. Winter looked around. ‘Let’s go.’

  My body felt wrecked. My face was swollen from being roughed up, my shins and arms were aching from the struggle in the tank, and my old injury in my right shoulder pinched, making sure I hadn’t forgotten it. I kept seeing Winter’s bird tattoo in my mind, wondering what she was doing roaming the streets with me—some fugitive kid—in the middle of the night.

  ‘What are you doing with Vulkan Sligo?’ I finally asked again. I’d wasted enough time trying to imagine a reason why a girl like that

  would have anything to do with a guy like him. Winter turned to me under the shelter of a large tree. I kept my eyes on the street scanning for any sign of movement.

  ‘You really wanna know?’

  ‘That’s what I said.’

  ‘The answer is simple. He’s my guardian.’

  ‘Your guardian? What do you mean? Where are your parents?’

  Around us the air was suddenly very still and cold.

  ‘You ask too many questions,’ she said.

  ‘I’m only after basic information.’

  ‘Get it somewhere else. OK?’

  I shrugged.

  ‘And,’ she resumed, ‘even though he’s my guardian, there’s no way I’d hang around him unless—’

  ‘Unless what?’ I interrupted. ‘Is it because you’re some kind of outlaw too? Birds of a feather flock together?’ I looked again for the tiny bird on her wrist.

  She shook her hair and a million tiny sparkles flashed. ‘I have my reasons. Very good reasons that I don’t have to explain to anyone. And he needs me. Even if only to help him change his image.’

  ‘Change his image? He wants to go straight? Is that what you’re trying to tell me?’ I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. ‘He almost murdered me a moment ago and now you’re telling me he wants to change his image? Too funny!’

  ‘It might sound like a joke to you, but there’s one thing you should know about Sligo. He has ambitions. He doesn’t like being called a criminal by the media.’

  ‘He is a criminal! Forget what the media does or doesn’t call him!’

  ‘You have to understand, he doesn’t see it like that. He’s desperate to be seen as straight—respectable. That was the whole reason he was interested in you.’

  ‘So interested he wants to drown me? I’m not getting you, Winter.’

  ‘He wanted to use you, somehow, and, well, obviously his plans didn’t exactly work out. Look, I don’t have to justify anything to you. Just believe me when I tell you that this massive thing he’s chasing—the reason for the interrogation—it’s all tied up with his pathetic attempt to eventually be … respected and admired. That’s all there really is to it.’

  The Ormond Singularity, I thought. Did it have the power to make the crooked straight?

  ‘Sometimes I suspect he’s only using me,’ Winter continued. ‘My family is—was—very wealthy. We owned property from the highlands right down to Dolphin Point. My parents were both very successful and well known … in their circles.’

  She hesitated and I sensed something like deep sorrow that had been frozen over. ‘Sligo used to work for my father,’ her voice faltered, ‘before the accident.’

  Her voice trailed off.

  ‘The accident?’ I asked, cautiously.

  ‘I don’t want to talk about it,’ she said, cutting me off. Her eyes cooled over again in an instant, and she flashed them in warning at me.

  An accident that took both of her parents? I wanted to ask, but I stopped myself—she’d made it clear that the subject was too painful. She suddenly didn’t seem quite so fearless. It was bad enough losing Dad—but I still had Mum. Kind of.

  ‘Answer me something,’ she said, interrupting my thoughts.

  ‘Do you always talk like that?’ I asked. ‘Like you’re commanding an army?’

  Winter flung her head to one side. ‘It’s just a simple question. Are you any good at breaking into houses?’

  We’d arrived in front of a huge house which was set back quite a distance from the road. The property was encased with bushes and a tall, intimidating, black iron fence. It was number 113, according to the polished brass numbers on the gate. The neighbouring houses were just as huge and daunting, but they were all lined up in perfect unison—polished and proud—unlike this place that seemed a little overgrown and unkempt.

  I turned to Winter. ‘You want to break into this?’ I asked, exhausted. ‘No way. You must be out of your mind. It’s probably covered in cameras.’

  She looked me up and down. ‘It’s not as secure as it looks,’ she said, slipping open the gate with ease. ‘See? And anyway, maybe I should have phrased that better,’ she said. ‘I’m really just visiting a friend.’

  ‘Right,’ I said, ‘and does your “friend” know you’re coming?’

  ‘Well, actually … so it’s not exactly a visit.’

  ‘So, what is it?’

  ‘It’s a—I guess you can really only call it a break-in,’ she said. ‘There’s something in there that I have to collect and I’d really appreciate it if you joined me.’

  That’s just great, I thought. Here I was already on the run, having survived a murder attempt, with criminals after me, cops after me, and now this girl wanted me to help her break into a Dolphin Point mansion?

  ‘What’s your problem?’ she asked icily, as her eyes narrowed. ‘I saved your life remember? And according to the media, you’ve already attempted murder. Twice. Psycho-teen, they’re calling you. What’s a little break-in compared with that? If you don’t want to help me, I can just ring my Sligo, and have his thugs here in five minutes. You can’t run very far in five minutes.’

  What was with this girl, threatening me?! Had she only saved me so that she could use me? Was she nothing but a user like Sligo?

  ‘Anyway,’ she said, quickly sensing my changing mood, ‘it’s not a robbery.’ She pulled me through the gate after her. ‘The girl who’s living here has something important that belonged to my mum. I just need to collect what’s mine.’

  ‘And why doesn’t your mum ask for it back?’ I asked, knowing it was sure to upset her. But as soon as the words came out of my mouth, I wished I could take them back.

  Winter looked away, but not before I’d recognised the sharp blow of grief that hit her face. She grabbed my hoodie and wrenched me down behind a line of thick bushes. ‘My mum can’t ask for anything,’ she whispered firmly in my ear. ‘My mum’s dead.’

  I pulled away from her grip.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I whispered.

  Winter shrugged.

  ‘I shouldn’t have said that … I know how you feel,’ I offered.

  Winter glared at me. ‘You know? What would you know about it! You’re just some stiff suburban school kid who’s suddenly stumbled into some trouble. You think you’re an expert now?! Ha!’


  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘keep it down. Do you want us to get caught out here already?’ I felt no need whatsoever to explain myself to her.

  I could see her trying to work out what to say. Her eyes narrowed as she spoke, ‘Anyway,’ she said, ‘the guy that lives here—the boyfriend—works as a bodyguard for Murray Durham—’

  ‘Murray Durham?!’ I cut her off, hoping there was some mistake. ‘He’s a bigger crim than Sligo! You know how he got his nickname “Toecutter” don’t you? It’s pretty self-explanatory.’

  This was getting worse by the minute. Winter Frey was connecting me with another bad guy. I never thought I’d actually be talking to someone who knew both Vulkan Sligo and Toecutter Durham … although, ever since the run-in with that crazy guy back home, New Year’s Eve, all I seemed to know was bad guys.

  ‘Durham and Sligo were friends a really long time ago but now they’re mortal enemies. I can’t be caught having anything to do with anyone even remotely connected to Durham. Sligo would disown me. My life depends on it … well, my allowance depends on it.’ Winter leaned forward and peered around the bushes towards the house. ‘I probably need Sligo now just as much as he needs me.’

  ‘Pocket money?’ I asked.

  She stifled a laugh. ‘You could call it that. Anyway,’ she added, ‘it’s easier doing it this way. To cut a long story short, my locket ended up with the bodyguard’s girlfriend. I’ve been inside plenty of times before, and I know exactly where it is.’

  The word ‘locket’ sent the hairs on the back of my neck prickling up. Sligo had asked me about a piece of jewellery—and someone had stolen jewellery from Dad’s suitcase. Was this just a coincidence? Had this girl somehow got hold of it?

  ‘And the locket’s yours?’ I asked her.

  ‘That’s what I just said. My mum and dad left it for me, for my tenth birthday.’

  ‘So you didn’t get it recently?’

  ‘No!’ she said, rolling her eyes. ‘Do I look like I turned ten yesterday? What is this, an interrogation, or are you just a really bad listener? Anyway, the problem we have right now is the bodyguard … He’s probably out working … but I’m not sure of that.’

  ‘So we’re breaking into Toecutter’s bodyguard’s house and he could be in there waiting for us?’

  Winter nodded. ‘Who’s a clever boy?’ she said in her mocking way. ‘That’s exactly it. Enough chitchat, let’s get this thing over with.’

  We were slowly approaching the huge double front doors, creeping up behind the bushes that lined the long driveway, when Winter tugged my arm, pulling me back. ‘Not that way,’ she hissed. ‘Follow me.’

  She led me around the side of the house, past huge curtained windows, until we came to a short flight of steps leading to a smaller door. She pulled out a credit card, slipped it between the door and the lock, gave it a deft tweak, and silently pressed it open.

  I was impressed. Maybe I could learn a thing or two from her.

  We crept into the house and stole down the hall. I could hear the sound of a TV and I tapped Winter’s shoulder. She turned to me, finger on her lips, and gestured ahead.

  In the lounge room that opened up at the end of the hallway, a man—the bodyguard, I guessed—was sprawled on a black leather recliner with his back to us, in front of a huge plasma screen. On the thick, white rug at his feet, slept the girl, curled up like a cat.

  Winter pointed to the door on the other side of the room. We were going to have to sneak behind them and cross the room to get over there.

  The guy was watching some war movie with lots of loud explosions, gunfire and shouting. I wondered how the girl was sleeping through it. He seemed engrossed in the action but I didn’t want to think about what he might do if he turned around and found two young intruders in his house.

  Using the volume of the TV as cover, Winter and I pressed close against the wall and snuck through the lounge room, step by stealthy step. We slid our way along, silently passing only a metre or so behind the guy watching the movie. We had almost made it to the other side of the room when he suddenly turned—luckily not our way. Instead he glanced down the empty hall way we’d just crept through. Had he heard something?

  Terrified that he would look round and see us, we froze, but a child’s scream from the movie ripped his attention back to the screen.

  After passing the last part of the wall we slipped through the door and up some stairs. I trailed Winter along a dimly lit, carpeted corridor, passing several closed doors and some huge urns with spiky plants growing out of them. Winter seemed to know exactly where to go.

  After ducking into one of the rooms, Winter quickly closed the door behind us and then switched on a lamp. The light revealed a very girly bedroom. The walls and curtains were a soft pink, and the lace-white bed was covered in cushions in every shade of pink you could imagine. Gabbi would have loved it.

  Winter went straight for the dressing-table, which was topped with a delicate glass-framed mirror. She opened the top drawer and pulled out a red velvet music box. Within seconds, she’d silently lifted out a small, silver, heart-shaped locket on a long chain. With a look of triumph, she pocketed it, nodded to me, switched off the lamp, and carefully opened the door again.

  We hurried out of the room and back down the staircase, treading softly on the carpet. We didn’t need to go back through the lounge room, so I hoped getting out of the house was going to be easier than getting in.

  Winter opened the front door, but it slipped from her grasp and a gust of wind banged it against the wall behind.

  ‘Who’s there?!’

  ‘What is it, hon?’ came the girl’s voice, dazed and sleepy on the rug.

  ‘Someone’s in the house!’

  I didn’t hesitate. This time I grabbed Winter and dragged her out the front door, down the path and out number 113’s gate as fast as I could, only letting go of her wrist when we’d reached the street.

  Her footsteps flew beside me as we raced along the road, taking left turns, then right, then left, until finally, when it was safe, we both fell exhausted onto the grass of a tiny moonlit park.

  We both puffed and panted, looking up at the sky.

  ‘That damn front door!’ she said, sitting up. ‘I forgot it slams!’

  She buried her hands into her skirt pockets and pulled out two chocolate bars. She waved one around in front of me. I sat up and snatched it from her and started tearing off the wrapper.

  ‘Thanks, where’d you get these?’

  ‘Let’s just say I know where my friend keeps her chocolate stash, too,’ she replied with a grin.

  ‘It was pretty clear you’d been in there before.’

  ‘I grew up in that house,’ she said.

  I remembered how she’d described her rich family before. ‘Really?’ I said. ‘I’ve got an uncle who lives in this suburb, too.’

  Winter’s mobile rang, and she jumped up and took it out of her bag. I watched her move away to take the call and wondered who was ringing her at this hour.

  ‘I’m getting a drink,’ I said as Winter returned. I stood up on my aching legs and stumbled over to a bubbler in the middle of the park. I had a long drink and splashed water over my face and neck, trying to cool down. As I straightened up I found myself wondering how I could find out whether her story about the locket was true. Her sad eyes seemed so real, but there was something untrustworthy about her. I took another drink before heading back to where she sat on the grass, determined to find out more. In the light of the tall park lamp, I found Winter sitting there sifting through my backpack!

  ‘Hey! Stop it!’ I shouted, hurrying towards her. ‘What are you doing? You can’t do that! Get your hands off my stuff!’

  Everything was scattered all over the grass, including Dad’s drawings and the transparency I found in his suitcase with the words ‘G’managh’ and ‘Kilfane’. I furiously started snatching my stuff up from the ground, when I noticed that she was sitting there quietly grinning. She held one o
f the angel drawings in her hands.

  ‘Give me that!’ I tried to grab it out of her hand, but she jerked it out of my reach.

  I was about to give her a piece of my mind when I noticed her eyes. For the first time, they seemed alive and shining. She pointed to the angel, and pointed to my dad’s letter.

  ‘Where did this come from?’ she asked. ‘Do you know him too?’

  ‘The Angel?’ I asked. ‘You know about the Angel?’ A sudden surge of excitement smothered my anger.

  ‘Of course I do! I know where he is. I’ve seen him lots of times!’

  What was she talking about? Everybody in the whole freaking world seemed to be asking questions about the Angel and this girl was claiming she knew all about him!

  ‘How long have you known about him?’ she asked.

  ‘I don’t know about him, I just have this picture that my dad drew. Why? What do you know? What does it mean?’

  I didn’t like the way Winter was handling Dad’s drawing as if she owned it, so I snatched it away from her.

  Winter’s face resumed its usual cool, superior, stuff-you expression.

  ‘Please,’ I urged. ‘Tell me everything you know about it.’

  ‘Why? What’s it to you?’

  I sat back down on the grass again. ‘My dad drew that angel not long before he died.’

  The atmosphere immediately changed between us.

  ‘Your dad’s dead?’ she asked.

  I nodded.

  Winter carefully pulled the locket out of her pocket. ‘Now you understand,’ she said in a softer voice, ‘why this is so important to me.’