The Fury
Page 38
‘I’m okay,’ Brick said, struggling to his feet with Daisy in his arms. He shuddered with the cold, his words billowing from blue lips. ‘You take him.’
‘Come on, little guy,’ said Cal, scooping up Adam, wincing as pain lanced down his broken finger. The boy didn’t react, staring at something only he could see. ‘Don’t worry, it’s gonna be okay.’
‘No it’s not,’ said Brick. ‘Whole planet’s going to hell.’
‘Thanks. Way to make him feel better.’
‘Up yours,’ Brick said, but there was a glimmer of a smile in his eyes. It spread to Cal, and even though it had no place here it felt good.
‘You really are an asshole,’ he said through a grin as they staggered across the park. Brick looked around, sighing. Then he turned back to Cal.
‘I know.’
Epilogue
Whoever battles with monsters had better see that it does not turn him into a monster. And if you gaze long into an abyss, the abyss will gaze back into you.
Friedrich Nietzsche
Daisy
She had always thought that death would be peaceful, a place of infinite calm and quiet.
But Daisy stood inside a kingdom of fire and ice, of relentless movement and noise. She was at the junction of a billion different lives, the joining place of worlds. From here, she could see everything.
She had been shot, she knew that much at least. They had been inside the park, Fursville, running from the police. Then she’d felt like she had been struck by a sledgehammer. She couldn’t remember hitting the floor. It had been more like she’d fallen through it, through the skin of the real world and into what lay beyond. She’d been like Alice tumbling down the rabbit hole, only what she was looking at now was no Wonderland.
And there was no sign of her mum and dad. She’d hoped at the very least they’d be here waiting for her.
It’s because you’re not dead, something said. Was that her own voice? She couldn’t be sure, everything was too chaotic.
‘Who’s there?’ she called out. ‘Where am I?’
No answer. She focused on the wheeling shapes around her, all inside ice cubes just like the ones in her head. They made no sense, countless flickering images and muddled sounds in each one.
‘Daisy, can you hear me?’
The voice seemed to cut through the rest, and with it one of the ice cubes grew larger, groaning and cracking like an iceberg as it filled her vision. It was Brick, his copper hair glowing in the sun, his clothes ripped to tatters and covered in blood. It seemed like his chest was on fire, an orb of blue flame which sat where his heart should be. He was holding something in his arms, a tiny shape whose head lolled, whose eyes were open and unseeing. It was her, she realised. But she wasn’t scared, because she too had a smokeless inferno inside her chest – one that burned even brighter.
It’s them. That’s where they live.
And with that thought the ice cube melted. Another rose in its place, and through it she saw more people she knew. Rilke was helping her brother, Schiller, walk across an endless field of dust and dirt. Marcus and Jade staggered alongside them, their shadows long in the setting sun. They all had flames in their chests too, except Schiller, whose whole body was alight. He seemed to have another shape laid over his own, a figure with blazing eyes and huge, Sphinx-like wings which left glowing trails where they dragged in the ground. Looking at it made Daisy feel scared and excited at the same time.
That’s what they look like when they’ve . . . She paused until the word hatched popped into her head. Yes, when they’ve hatched. They can’t survive in our world, so they have to live inside us.
The image changed again. Did that mean she was right? Was this a test, maybe? She swept towards Rilke, into the girl’s head, the world unravelling and reforming. This time she saw people, hundreds of them, maybe thousands. Schiller stood amongst them, his face emotionless as he spread his hands and turned those men and women and children to dust. She could just about see Rilke there too, grinning insanely, before the scene was lost in a billowing cloud of ash.
So this is why we’re here? Daisy said, her heart dropping to her toes. But I don’t want to hurt anyone. People do sometimes do bad things, and some of them aren’t very nice, but most are kind and funny and peaceful. They don’t deserve to die.
The same scene again, Schiller slaughtering countless more innocents. Daisy seemed to understand what she was being shown.
That’s what Rilke sees, she said. But she’s wrong, isn’t she. We’re not here to kill people, we’re here to save them.
The shadows of the last scene melted away, the ice cubes clinking. Even though she had no body in this place, no face, she still felt like she was grinning.
I knew it! she told the angel inside her. I knew you weren’t bad!
Her happiness didn’t last, though. Another image swelled, this one even worse than the last. Daisy knew what she was going to see there, but she could not close her eyes. She felt herself pulled into the scene, battered by a wind that stank of flesh and smoke. The man in the storm hung inside a nest of fractured darkness, his mouth a churning, grinding whirlwind. That same horrid, deafening sound – the endless inward breath – made her skin crawl.
Daisy screamed without sound, struggling to escape. But there was nowhere to go. She could do nothing but watch as the man in the storm opened his arms and more of the world shattered like glass, falling into a bottomless, lightless abyss. It was impossible not to notice how similar he was to Schiller. But this thing was utter evil, the opposite of life. The man in the storm turned his dead, scribble-black eyes towards her and somewhere in that awful sound was a sickening, gleeful laugh. He tilted his corpse hands and even from this distance, even though she was only seeing it inside her head, she could feel the light draining out of her, the happiness and the love. It was leaving her utterly empty.
He’s why we’re here, Daisy spat, squirming, praying that it was the right answer and that the scene would fade away like the others. He’s a bad man, and he’s doing something terrible, and we have to stop him.
Cracks began to appear in the view, a golden glow spilling through them until the man in the storm disappeared in the haze. Daisy walked into the heat, like she was stepping onto a beach in the middle of summer. There was nothing here but light.
Who are you? she asked. Are you angels?
No answer. The view didn’t change. Did that mean she was right or wrong? Or maybe she was a little of both. Maybe they weren’t angels, but something else – something that people had caught glimpses of over the centuries and which had been given that name. There were all sorts of things that people didn’t know about yet. Who’s to say that creatures like this couldn’t exist?
Daisy realised that there was a face in the light, so faint that it almost wasn’t there at all. It was devoid of all emotion and feeling, its eyes burning sockets. It seemed to constantly peel apart and repair itself, as though it couldn’t hold its shape for longer than a few seconds. Those blazing eyes looked at Daisy, so much power there that she could hear it in the air like an endless roll of thunder.
This is my angel, she understood, her terror and her awe like a white heat inside her.
Then, just like that, the light fell apart, the face dissolving into the fading glow. Daisy felt herself pulled away, so fast she left her stomach behind. She landed somewhere dark and cold, but she could feel that creature in every cell of her body, its fire spreading.
Voices, ones she recognised, echoing in the shadows.
‘Which way?’
‘Any way, just get us out of here.’
She would wake up soon enough, and when she did she would be something different, something more. But Cal and Brick and Adam would still be there. They’d look after her. She’d look after them, too. That was her job now, at least until their angels hatched.
And when that happened, they’d all be ready.
Ready to fight the man in the storm.
THE STORM
The story concludes in The Storm, coming soon.
by the same author
The Inventors
The Inventors and the City of Lost Souls
Furnace: Lockdown
Furnace: Solitary
Furnace: Death Sentence
Furnace: Fugitives
Furnace: Execution
About the author
Alexander Gordon Smith is the author of the terrifying Furnace series, as well as The Inventors (shortlisted for the Wow Factor competition) and The Inventors and the City of Stolen Souls. He has also written a number of non-fiction books, as well as hundreds of articles for various magazines. He is the founder of Egg Box Publishing, an independent press that promotes talented new writers and poets, and is the co-owner of Fear Driven Films. He lives in Norwich.
First published in 2012
by Faber and Faber Ltd
Bloomsbury House
74–77 Great Russell Street
London WC1B 3DA
This ebook edition first published in 2012
All rights reserved
© Alexander Gordon Smith, 2012
The right of Alexander Gordon Smith to be identified as author of this work has been asserted in accordance with Section 77 of the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988
This ebook is copyright material and must not be copied, reproduced, transferred, distributed, leased, licensed or publicly performed or used in any way except as specifically permitted in writing by the publishers, as allowed under the terms and conditions under which it was purchased or as strictly permitted by applicable copyright law. Any unauthorised distribution or use of this text may be a direct infringement of the author’s and publisher’s rights, and those responsible may be liable in law accordingly
ISBN 978–0–571–27617–2
Table of Contents
Title Page
Dedication
Prologue
Wednesday
Benny
Thursday
Cal
Daisy
Brick
Daisy
Cal
Brick
Daisy
Brick
The Other: I
Murdoch
Friday
Brick
Cal
Brick
Daisy
Brick
Cal
Brick
Daisy
Brick
Daisy
Cal
Daisy
Brick
Cal
Brick
Cal
Brick
Cal
Daisy
Cal
Brick
Cal
Daisy
Cal
The Other: II
Murdoch
Saturday
Rilke
Brick
Rilke
Daisy
Rilke
Brick
Daisy
Rilke
Cal
Rilke
Daisy
Brick
Cal
Brick
Rilke
Daisy
Brick
Daisy
The Other: III
Murdoch
The Fury
Sunday
Brick
Daisy
Rilke
Daisy
Cal
Brick
Rilke
Daisy
Cal
Daisy
Brick
Cal
Rilke
Daisy
Cal
Daisy
Cal
Rilke
Daisy
Cal
Daisy
Brick
Daisy
Rilke
Cal
Brick
Cal
Epilogue
Daisy
THE STORM
by the same author
About the author
Copyright