by Louise Cole
Amber stayed silent, but I realized after a moment she wasn’t thinking about what I was saying. She stared at me, a strange expression on her face.
“Are you coming or what?” I asked.
“Don’t you need your books?” she said quietly.
“I have—oh,” I said, looking down. I was holding the book, gripping it tight in both hands.
“I’d leave that here if I were you,” she said and walked away.
Minutes later, books swapped, I stumbled into history and perched on a seat next to Amy. “Key events in prewar Germany,” she said.
“Oh, what fun.”
“Not unless you count depression, starvation, and mass propaganda as fun, no.”
Amber worked in silence. I caught her looking at me from under her lashes several times, but I ignored her. Of course she wouldn’t understand. How many people would actually get what it’s like to have the fate of the world dumped on your shoulders?
I stamped down my sense of betrayal. Instead, I watched Alec with Jessica, leaning so close to her that her hair trailed across his shoulder. I wondered if she was happy. I wondered if she knew what it felt like to be really alone.
***
Scarman tested the weight of his weapon. With any luck, he wouldn’t need to use it. It didn’t worry him one way or the other, but he wanted this to be so fast, so effective they wouldn’t need to fight. He leaned his back against the wall and waited for a signal.
Soon. Very soon. Everyone was in position. Including the girl.
Chapter 13
Cardinal Henry Campbell ushered his guest into the small, fire-lit room and grasped his hand warmly.
“My friend, Aadil,” Henry said. “I have not seen you for over a decade. I trust you are well.”
The Saudi Arabian intelligence officer smiled. “I am, your eminence. Thank you.”
Henry inclined his head slightly. “Dare I ask what brings you all the way from Washington?”
The two men sank into deep armchairs by the fire.
“They are going to try again,” said Aadil.
“To what end? India-Pakistan?”
“I would imagine so, Henry.” He paused. “The Order of Sumer must be stopped. We have failed too often.”
Henry flapped a hand. “Aadil, you know as well as I that if we could identify the leaders of the Order of Sumer, they would have been stopped long before now. Their secrecy has defeated your intelligence services and even the Vatican’s resources. And we have had the ear of presidents.”
“Perhaps we do not need the leaders. My office has identified one of their operatives.”
“How?”
“Circuitous routes, my friend, circuitous routes. We are sure this woman is one of them. She has no visible means of income or any employment history, and yet her flight to the UK was paid for by a certain Washington law firm.” He laid a photo of a blonde woman on the table. “She is traveling as Ella Thompson. She entered the country at Heathrow three days ago and rented a Porsche.” He paused. “We have traced the car to North Yorkshire.”
Henry didn’t ask how. GPS, license plate recognition—there were many ways to track cars. It was unimportant. He felt his throat tighten. “Dear God. North Yorkshire. That’s where the McKennas . . .”
“You know Callie McKenna?”
Henry shook his head. “Not personally. I knew her mother.”
“Yes. You see why I am concerned?”
Henry sank his head into his hands. He was lost in thought for a moment, and then his head snapped up. “These peace talks must succeed, Aadil. Perhaps we should stay out of it.”
“Yes, they must succeed. By the righteous efforts of the politicians and diplomats in the negotiations. India and Pakistan must see reason, but this . . . this would be an abomination.” Aadil stood and rested his hand on the mantelpiece. “We are both men of God. We know no good comes from evil. This Order seeks to enforce US foreign policy with the Devil’s own instrument.”
Henry quirked an eyebrow. “I would suggest they enforce no one’s policy but their own. I am not concerned with the politics, more the . . . other consequences.” He sighed. “It is an evil day when one must choose between sacrificing men and women in war or sacrificing them to stop war.”
Aadil sighed. “I don’t disagree. But at least in war, the soldiers are the strong ones defending the weak. Their sacrifice is honorable. The Order preys on the weak and sacrifices them in the name of peace. The reading cannot be allowed to happen again.”
Henry folded his hands in his lap. “What can we do?”
“Personally, I would hesitate to sanction”—Aadil sought the words—“extreme intervention. There is already too much violence in this world. Regardless, there are those, on my side and yours, who will say I am a fool. I have had to report this, Henry. You know steps will be taken to stop them.”
Henry sighed. “I have no doubt, but the girl must not come to harm. Not this girl.”
“Why do you think I came to you first, old friend?” Aadil said. “This is what I couldn’t tell you on the phone. I have withheld Thompson’s whereabouts to give you a chance. We will both make our calls now, yes?”
“Yes.” Henry stood up and embraced the Muslim man tightly. “Thank you.”
***
Henry dialed a number from memory and waited, eyes closed as the short, shrill Italian ringtone buzzed in his ear. The Camerlengo, the man who ran most of the Vatican in the Pope’s stead, answered.
“Pronto?”
“Francesco, it’s Henry Campbell. I need to share something with you.” The Camerlengo listened in silence as Henry explained. “I am leaving for Yorkshire now”—he hesitated—“with your leave.”
The Camerlengo took a deep breath. “Henry, this will fall to the Office of the Exorcist. This is closest to their work. You need not be involved.”
“No!” It almost came out as a shriek. Henry collected himself. “No. I will speak to the girl.” The Exorcists took no prisoners in their fight against the devil—one young girl meant little to someone who believed he was delaying Armageddon. “I compromised her mother. It is only right I protect the daughter now.”
“Henry, we both know the Council of Churches will deal with this. They will do everything they can to stop this reading.” The Camerlengo paused. “In the meantime, no man can tell you to act against your conscience. Go,” he said. “Save the girl. God bless you, my friend.”
Two hours later, Henry passed between the armed sentries at King’s Cross Station, patted the police spaniel snuffling briefly at the smell of incense lingering on his clerical black trousers, and boarded a train to York.
***
I couldn’t wait to escape that classroom and when I did, I didn’t wait for Amber.
“Callie. Just stop. Please.” Amber raced down the corridor after me, her kitten heels like castanets against the floor. “Please.”
I spun to face her. “Just leave me alone. OK? It shouldn’t be hard. You’ve already bailed on me.”
“For God’s sake, I have not bailed on you. I’m trying to help you.”
I started walking again, fast, to the lockers. “You don’t think I should do this.”
“No. I don’t.” Amber dropped her bag and leaned against the metal doors. “But not because I’m not on your side. For God’s sake, Callie, I am your side.”
She was. Always had been. I relaxed a fraction and forced my fingers to unclench.
“Do you trust me?” she asked.
Oh, come on. This was Amber. “With my life.”
She took a slow breath. “Then give me that book.”
“Why?” I turned away. Anxiety thumped in my chest and made my skin cold. “No.”
“Callie, I promise I won’t hurt it or destroy it or anything stupid. Please give it to me.”
“No.” The book squirmed into my mind.
“Why not? I only want to look at it.” Amber’s voice was soft and calm.
I had to protect it. I
t belonged with me. “Because this is stupid. This is because you don’t want me to read. I can’t believe you’re treating me like I’m unstable or something.”
“Well, maybe that’s because you’re acting a little whacked out, Cal. I think it’s that book. I just want to see it.”
“You’re jealous.” I turned to her, stunned I could have been so blind. I had this amazing opportunity to do something really important, this destiny. Of course she would be jealous.
There was a pause.
“No.” Amber rubbed her face with her hands. “I don’t know. Maybe a little.” She turned away and banged her fist softly against the locker a few times. She wheeled around to face me. “No, you know what? I’m not. I am jealous of Hit Girl, because she has problems she can kickbox. And Catwoman, because, hell, who doesn’t want to look that good in skintight leather? I am jealous of Isabella Swan, because, however weird it gets, you know she’s going to have a happy ending with the man she loves. But you? No. You know why?” She was still speaking softly, but there was an undercurrent of such anger in her voice. Or maybe fear. “Because this is real freakin’ life, Callie,” she hissed. “I am sorry about your mum, and I’m sorry about Alec being a bastard, and I didn’t need some Order to come along and tell me that my friend was special, OK? Those white-eyed guys tried to kill us and—” She swallowed. “I really killed them. I wake up in the middle of the night thinking about that. I think I’ll always wake up in the middle of the night thinking about that.”
And there was me. Small and selfish and so stupid. God, I loved her for saving me, but once I knew she wasn’t going to get into trouble, I’d let it be swept away by all the other near-death experiences. I’d forgotten she would pay the price of saving me forever.
“Amber, I’m so sorry.”
“That’s not . . . ” Her voice softened. “That’s not the point, Cal. I’d do it again. I’d save you in a heartbeat. That’s what I’m trying to do now.” She spread her hands as if to say “look, I’m unarmed.” She sighed. “Give me the book.”
It burned into my palms. Or maybe it was in my head. I wasn’t sure I could physically let it go. I fought back a wave of grief. I bought time while I experimentally loosened the fingers of one hand. “What are you going to do?”
“I’m going to find Jace Portman and ask him what that thing really does. It’s got some kind of hold over you.”
“It hasn’t. Really.” If I admitted what I felt, she’d take it away forever, and she couldn’t do that.
God, Callie, what kind of mess have you walked into?
“Then prove it.” She held out her hand.
“I still think I need to do this reading. I believe it’s the right thing.” I pushed the book at her quickly, shaken by how hard it was to let it go.
Amber hugged me fast. “Thanks.” She stuffed the book into her bag. “I’ll keep it safe.” She turned to leave and then paused. “Cal?”
“Yeah?”
“You said earlier all you had to do was read from this. Now, admittedly, everything I know about magic or the supernatural I learned from TV, but there’s always a price. Do you know what the price will be?” She looked older somehow, more grown up than I would ever be.
I shook my head.
“Then I think we’d better find out, don’t you?”
Chapter 14
Without the book, I felt strangely disoriented. I was scrabbling in my locker for God knows what when Mr. Patterson walked up.
“If you have a lesson, please get to it, Ms. McKenna.” He ran his hands over his face.
“Are you all right, sir?” I gave up wondering what I needed and just pulled my rucksack back onto my shoulder.
“What? Oh, yes. We’ve been given twenty-four hours’ notice of an Ofsted inspection tomorrow. I’m going to phone the governors. You couldn’t put a comprehensive report together on a dog pound in twenty-four hours, let alone a school. It’s ridiculous, the hoops they make us jump through.”
He wandered off toward reception, still muttering to himself. I’d no idea what class I was meant to be in. I shoved my coat in my locker and went to find refuge in the library.
I’d gone less than twenty yards when I heard yelling. It didn’t even occur to me to run the other way. I sped into reception to see Ms. Downey, the receptionist, smashing her head against the sliding partition. Blood and hair smeared the glass.
A small crowd surged through the front doors. The Cadaveri were smartly dressed and had on dark glasses, but there was no mistaking the wave of terror emanating from them.
Mr. Patterson stood in the lobby, waving a chair like a lion-tamer.
“Twenty-four hours I have. You can’t come in here now. It’s not fair. It’s not right!” he roared. “Get back, you foul little bureaucrats.”
I stumbled backward. One glanced at me but then looked back to Patterson who was thrusting the legs of the chair at him.
“The book will be with the girl. Find them both,” one of the Cadaveri said. Two of them turned and sped away down the corridor toward the gym.
“Mr. Patterson, move! Get out of there!” I screamed. I couldn’t think straight. How many were there? Where was Jace?
“Finding fault with my teachers, taking my students away to war. Oh yes, why don’t you close all the schools and be done with it?” Mr. Patterson screamed, ignoring me. “I’m calling the union about this.”
I had to find Jace. He would be in the gym. I turned and ran down the corridor, hitting the fire doors hard, jarring my shoulder as I broke into fresh air. Maybe he could track me. Maybe he would be in time. I grabbed for the little tracer he had given me, but my hand grasped air. My coat. It was in my coat. God, how could I be so stupid?
I ran behind a wheelie bin and cowered, trying to collect my thoughts. This was all my fault. Everyone would hate me, once they knew I had brought this down on them. People hurt, dead, and it would be all my fault. I’d have to run. Hide. Move.
One small fragment of my mind knew this wasn’t right, wasn’t me, but in my panic I couldn’t hold it. Would they know who I was? I tried to remember if we had killed all the Cadaveri who had seen me? Would they recognize me as the Reader if I wasn’t carrying the book? Oh God. Amber.
Why did she have to take it? I had to reach her before they did. I looked around and saw a lump of wood broken off an old pallet. It was something. Fear for Amber gave new speed to my feet as I raced around the back of the school—straight into a crowd of Cadaveri pouring into the rear doors.
I staggered backward out of sight. I couldn’t breathe, like my throat was stuffed with wool. I spun the other way, toward the kitchens. There was a sound, a muffled thudding nearby. I looked to my left and saw what looked like a six-foot doll painted white and red lying on the ground, jumping every time a boot kicked it. Its attackers worked in silence, apart from the soft grunts of effort as they drove their feet into the doll’s sides and face.
The head fell toward me. His teeth were gone, and his tongue stuck out slightly. Gavin? Jason Shackley and Marcus didn’t even look up, lost in their silent frenzy of boot to flesh.
I couldn’t stop them. I think it was too late already. I could feel the horror and the despair washing over me, washing over the whole school. There must be Cadaveri everywhere, surrounding us, spreading their filth, their chaos. Where was Jace?
I had to find Amber. As I focused on her, my fear turned to anger. They could kill me—I didn’t care—but I would rip them apart with my bare hands before they would touch Amber. I hefted the piece of wood and smashed a window in the gym block. Broken glass snagged at my clothes as I heaved myself over the sill. I landed heavily, but I kept my feet and hit the corridor running. I was ahead of them. I made two swift left turns, my feet sliding and skidding on the polished floor. That’s why you don’t run in school, I thought grimly. The double doors exploded backward as I burst into the gym hall. In my unthinking haste, I bowled straight into the two Cadaveri guarding the door, knocking them down.
>
Students cowered against the walls, crying softly, some covering their heads with their hands and pulling at their hair. Some threw themselves at the fire doors, the noise booming and reverberating around the gymnasium but the doors just bounced in the frames, barely moving. A girl screamed as a boy a head taller than her dragged her out of the way by her hair. I scanned the room for Amber and spotted Jace at the far end of the hall. Relief washed through me. He fought furiously with two Cadaveri. For a moment, he went down under two bodies but somehow flipped upright, shattering a face with an elbow strike and then leaping into a kick that looked more like ballet than violence.
A scream sounded from the back of the room. Amber. I raced across the indoor court, vaulting the net (for the first time in my life) and ran toward her.
“Give it to me.” The Cadaveri had Amber by the neck, crushed against the climbing wall. He was ripping her bag from her shoulder, and she was hanging on to it for dear life, despite his hand closing around her throat. Her eyes were wide, bulging, her cheeks white. I was still ten yards away. The faintest tinge of blue circled Amber’s lips.
“Get off her!” I screamed.
He glanced at me, let go of the bag, and put both hands around her neck.
I had no brakes. I was still running even as I swung my rough club, and it cracked across his skull. As he fell, I tumbled into Amber, and we both collapsed at the foot of the wall.
“Amber.” Tears streamed down my cheeks. “Amber. Please talk to me.”
Her eyes were closed. “Goddammit, talk to me.” I put my mouth over hers and blew in hard. She coughed and pushed me off, but fell back onto the floor, shoulders heaving.
Jace bounded over, vaulting the net, and skidded to our side.
“Amber, you have to get up. Please.” I pulled awkwardly on her arm, but her eyes went past me to the end of the room. The students were all moving, sideways, backward, some making a weird crooning noise. For crazy people with no sense of direction, they were covering the ground between us pretty fast.