by Jon Robinson
‘So I can’t get involved? Is that what you’re saying?’ Jes felt herself starting to tremble. She balled her hands into fists. ‘I’ve got as much right as the rest of you to get involved! Just because I’m not special doesn’t mean I can’t help you.’
Julian smirked, tapping his mug. ‘Jes, another coffee, when you’re next getting up.’
‘Get your own, Julian. I’m not your slave,’ Jes hissed.
‘Well, you aren’t one of us, are you? You might as well have some use around here …’
‘Hey, shut up, Julian,’ Ryan spat. ‘Stop being an idiot.’
Harlan turned to Luthan. ‘You can’t just stop her, guys. After everything we’ve been through together …’
‘No, Harlan, maybe he’s right,’ Jes said bitterly, scowling at Julian. ‘Maybe I should just leave. I mean, there’s not much point me being here now, is there?’
‘Leaving would be a bad idea,’ Luthan said. ‘Especially while the Pledge still has people looking for you. You can stay with us for as long as you need, Jes.’
Jes nodded, feeling tears welling up. If the rest of the group were being taught to use their amazing ‘powers’, she could think of nothing worse than having to sit and watch helplessly from the sidelines.
‘Besides, my partner doesn’t have the Ability either,’ Luthan continued. ‘And he is our leader after all.’ There was a pause.
‘Henry?’ Jes said, surprised. ‘You two are … a couple?’
Luthan’s eyes softened. ‘We’re a couple.’
‘So,’ Pyra said. ‘Are you staying with us?’
A lump rose in Jes’s throat. ‘I don’t see the point, knowing I’ll never be able to do what you guys can do. It doesn’t seem fair.’ She got to her feet.
‘Where are you going?’ Elsa said, tugging her sleeve.
‘Just want to go for a walk,’ said Jes. ‘Clear my head.’
Don’t need some stupid Ability anyway, she thought as she passed through the door. After all, it was just cheating.
You’ve been fine up until now, she reminded herself, swallowing her anger. There’ll always be privileged people in the world, people who have it easy. Usually, she thought smugly, they are the ones who never reach their full potential. So this would push her to try harder. She would do just as well – if not better – than any of the others.
‘Hey!’ Ryan called, running to join her. ‘You all right?’
Jes nodded. ‘I’m fine, Ryan,’ she said, throwing him a smile.
‘Just checking,’ he said with a shrug. ‘Man, sometimes I just wanna punch Julian in his stupid mouth …’
Jes looked at him gratefully and felt a flutter in her stomach. She remembered back to when they were in the tunnel, when he had helped her.
‘Erm, you’re looking at me kinda weird,’ he said awkwardly.
‘Oh, I –’ Jes faltered. ‘It’s nothing.’ With that, she turned and quickly left.
8
‘Sir?’ said Blythe’s elderly butler, tapping gently on the door.
Blythe sat in front of the blaring television in his study, staring at the ornate brass key in his hand.
‘Sir?’ Blythe’s butler repeated, raising his voice. ‘You wanted to see me.’
Blythe belched loudly. ‘Yes, yes. Come in.’
Blythe put the key back inside a wooden box on the arm of his chair. The television screen showed the haggard-looking Prime Minister, who had only just returned to the public eye after a brief holiday abroad.
Blythe laughed. ‘Looks a bloody wreck, doesn’t he?’
‘Indeed,’ his butler said. ‘What was it you wanted to see me about, sir?’
‘Hmm. Oh yes, well, I have some rather bad news.’ He paused momentarily. ‘Need to keep check of my spending, you see. That villa in Florence needed a tad more work than I thought it would. Ended up paying through the nose.’ Blythe chuckled to himself. ‘I need to watch my bank balance, so the accountants keep telling me.’
‘I’m no longer needed, sir? Is that what you’re saying?’
‘Not yet! But I’ll be considerably reducing your hours. I’m sure you’ll cope. Perhaps cut back on the luxuries for a little while. Besides, these things do you good. Build character, as my dear old father used to say.’
Blythe’s butler nodded. ‘Yes. Yes, sir. But I’ll need to take on another job as, with all due respect, sir, I barely make enough as it is …’
Blythe picked up a cigar from his ashtray, waving his hand dismissively. He sucked on the cigar and coughed out a plume of smoke. He turned back to the television and, as he did so, knocked the wooden box from the chair. The catch opened and the key slid across the floor.
His butler leant down to pick it up, but Blythe swatted his hand out of the way.
‘I’ll take that,’ he said, grabbing it. ‘Anyway, try to not let it bother you, old chap. These are difficult times for everyone. Chin up!’ He patted his butler hard on the shoulder and settled back in his chair.
9
Alyn sat in the back of the car, watching the city drifting past as snowflakes spilled across the glass.
He reached into his jacket pocket and inspected the key he had taken from Felix as he lay on the ballroom floor two days ago. Maybe it was nothing at all, just a piece of junk, a lucky charm. He unscrewed the shaft of the key and removed the piece of paper.
51.51
What did it mean?
‘We’re here,’ Emmanuel said from the passenger seat.
Alyn slyly slipped the key into the back pocket of his jeans. He left the car and followed Emmanuel and his assistant, a weasel-faced man, towards a warehouse. Its bulk was framed formidably against the grey sky.
Emmanuel turned to Alyn. ‘Cities always have the largest influence, which makes them the most fragile. And that’s why London will need to fall. Where the Pledge saw a threat, I saw an opportunity.’
‘For chaos,’ Alyn answered. ‘You’re using Nowhere to cause a blackout.’
‘An electromagnetic pulse caused by the subjects in the prison. Everything electrical will be ruined, made useless. People will be lost. Without security, anarchy will quickly follow. We destroy the infrastructure of the city. We attack the government; we burn all of their buildings to the ground.’
Alyn watched him cautiously. ‘Who’s we?’
‘Over the past few years, I’ve been working with some anti-government groups around the country.’
‘You mean the same kind of groups that the Pledge were trying to stop?’
Emmanuel didn’t need to answer. Alyn had already seen a flicker of confirmation in his face. He felt a growing unease.
‘Here we are,’ said Emmanuel’s assistant, unbolting a padlock on the shuttered doors. There was a hiss nearby as two cats duelled in the swirling snow.
Alyn followed Emmanuel through the doors into the warehouse and instantly noticed a mass of people gathered at the far end, at least seventy, but probably more. The central space was filled with ominous-looking wooden crates covered with tarpaulins. Beside them was an assortment of cheap-looking plastic animal masks: lambs, pigs, bulls and apes.
A map showing the Houses of Parliament on top of one of the crates caught Alyn’s eye. He picked it up, but Emmanuel’s assistant snatched it out of his hands.
‘Looks like a social club for anarchists,’ Alyn said, hoping that humour might ease the tension.
‘This is where the revolution begins!’ Emmanuel’s assistant exclaimed, intoxicated by the promise of rebellion. ‘This is our fiftieth cell … We’re going to bring down everything so the country can start again from scratch. Just like we planned. And it’s all thanks to you, sir,’ he said, looking at Emmanuel. ‘You brought us all together. We were directionless before, but under your leadership I know we can succeed.’
‘And succeed we shall.’
Emmanuel guided Alyn up a flight of creaking metal stairs and along a walkway, overlooking the rest of the warehouse. Alyn leant against its railing and watche
d the activity beneath him. One group was shifting a crate from one side of the warehouse to the other, while another group of six sat at a wire-strewn table, intently studying a laptop.
‘If you want to get rid of the Pledge,’ Alyn said, ‘that’s fine by me. But I don’t want a part of anything else. I mean, you want someone to join you? To do what?’
Emmanuel narrowed his eyes. ‘I see a lot of potential in you, Alyn. I look at you and I see a young man who reminds me of myself.’
‘You’re wrong.’
‘Your grasp of the Ability is second only to mine, Alyn. On the same side, we’ll be undefeatable.’
‘You mean you want to use me to get rid of the Guild.’ Alyn shook his head. ‘No. No, Emmanuel. I won’t do it.’
He started to walk away, but Emmanuel called after him. ‘When I eventually destroy the Guild, Alyn, your friends will be there. And if you refuse me I’ll destroy them too. All of them.’
Alyn stopped and turned round slowly. His heart was racing, and sound seemed muffled in his ears.
‘Are you threatening to kill my friends?’
Emmanuel walked towards Alyn. ‘Not just your friends.’
He pushed open a door on the upper level. ‘Look inside,’ he said.
Alyn peered cautiously into the room. There was a man on the floor, gagged and tied up with rope. He gasped, taking a step back. ‘Dad?’
His father, unshaven and bleary-eyed, tried to respond but his voice was muffled.
Alyn rushed over, knelt down beside him and lifted the gag. ‘Dad, are you all right? Did he hurt you?’
‘He’s a maniac!’ his father shouted, his eyes wide. ‘That bloke over there, he’s out of his mind! He kidnapped me!’
‘Think of this as an incentive, Alyn,’ Emmanuel said. ‘Do what I ask of you, and your father, and your friends, will be unharmed.’
‘You’re sick,’ Alyn whispered. He put a hand on his father’s shoulder and looked up at Emmanuel with hatred clouding his eyes.
‘I want you to bring me the leader of the Guild, Alyn. His name is Luthan.’ Emmanuel tossed a photograph at Alyn. It was a black-and-white security image showing a bald man in a tuxedo. Alyn recognized him from the opera house.
‘So you can kill him?’ Alyn hissed. ‘Get him yourself.’
‘You can get much closer to him than I can, Alyn,’ Emmanuel said. ‘Do it. Or your friends, your father … all of them will suffer.’ He looked over his shoulder at the masked figures who had appeared behind him. ‘Take him away.’
With that, two of Emmanuel’s followers grabbed Alyn under his arms and dragged him out of the room.
‘Alyn!’ his father shouted. ‘Please, Alyn, you have to help me! Don’t leave me here! He’ll kill me!’
His cries quickly faded, as Alyn was hauled along the walkway, struggling and wrestling with his captors.
10
Snow was fluttering silently outside the Guild’s tower block, coating the road beneath. Every few minutes a car crawled past, tracing two black lines in the tarmac.
Elsa sat with Harlan and Pyra, staring at a photograph. It showed a lavish mansion with domed towers bearing a gold-plated spike, similar to ones Elsa had seen in pictures of Russia.
She felt a reluctant admiration for the mansion’s owner, Antonia Black. After all, if she was ever a billionaire, she planned on having a palace made of crystal, perhaps with trained penguins to serve as her butlers.
‘Pretty awesome,’ she intoned. ‘And I thought this place was cool …’
Harlan took the next photograph and examined it. ‘Is that a hedge maze?’
‘Yup,’ said Pyra.
‘I can’t believe anyone didn’t realize she was a supervillain sooner,’ Harlan mumbled. ‘I mean, have you ever seen a normal person with a hedge maze?’
‘Jealous, Harlan?’
He shrugged. ‘A little.’
‘The house is about two hours away,’ Pyra said, playing absentmindedly with her domino locus. ‘It’s surrounded by forty acres of land. Reckon we should probably park up in one of the fields and camp out, then head there first thing.’
‘Camp out?’ Elsa protested. ‘In the middle of winter?’ The thought made her shiver.
Harlan pushed the photograph back towards Pyra. ‘What made you guys change your tune about us helping? I thought you didn’t want us involved.’
‘Some of us still don’t. And, hey, if you don’t want to …’
‘No,’ said Elsa. ‘We do want to help. They put us in that prison, remember?’
‘I figured as much. Still, anything too dangerous you leave to us.’
Elsa looked relieved. ‘I’m fine with that.’
Elsa left the others and was on the way back to her bedroom when she heard a voice calling out. She halted in the middle of the corridor.
‘Help!’ The voice was coming from behind the nearest door and stirred her to move. She tried the handle. It was locked.
As she stepped away, she noticed that the skirting-board was coming away from the wall. She knelt down and tugged it. A small key clattered on to the floorboards.
Elsa studied the key, then put it in the lock. There was a click and she pushed the door open a fraction.
‘Hello?’ she said cautiously. ‘Is there someone there?’
There was no answer.
She stepped inside, waiting for her eyes to unravel the mass of shapes in the darkness. Then something growled: a vicious animal sound.
Elsa shrieked and backed away.
‘Please, please,’ a voice whispered. ‘I – I won’t hurt you.’
Elsa froze. As her eyes adjusted, she saw a man lying in a bed against the far wall. A prisoner, was her first thought, noticing the buckles and straps across his body that rendered him immobile.
Her voice came out timidly. ‘Who are you?’
‘My name is Saul … Are you one of us, child?’ His voice was weak and hoarse.
‘Um, I don’t know what you mean,’ Elsa said, stepping closer, after giving the straps another look. The man – Saul – had long matted hair. He wore a white nightgown. His bulging eyes showed signs of a fever, or madness. Dried blood was flecked around his nose and lip.
‘I have it too, little one,’ the man said. He shut his eyes and began groaning.
‘What’s wrong? Are you OK?’
‘The sickness,’ he said, ‘it’s getting worse … every hour now … the nosebleeds … the blackouts … I don’t know what’s real any more …’
‘I don’t understand!’ Elsa exclaimed. ‘Please, just tell me what’s wrong.’
‘There’s nothing they can do.’
Elsa’s eyes darted over him anxiously, trying to work out whether he was mad or mistaken. Maybe he really is sick.
‘Soon it will happen to all of us. I’m just the first … It will claim every last one of us.’ Saul looked up at her sadly. ‘Breathe no word of this to the others, child … The Guild mustn’t know you have spoken with me.’
‘I promise,’ Elsa said. ‘I won’t tell anyone. I just want to help you.’
‘You can help me. All you have to do is to take the pillow from behind my head and put it down over my face … It is the only way … the only way to stop the sickness …’
‘No!’ Elsa hurried away from the bed, shaking her head.
Tears began streaming down Saul’s face. ‘Please, little girl. Please. If you don’t, then you must let me go. So I can do it myself.’
Elsa began to cry too, loud forceful tears, each one jolting her.
‘They’ll keep me here forever, in a living hell … I’ve begged them, but they won’t kill me,’ he whispered. ‘They keep me here so I won’t harm myself. But it’s too late; I am already harmed. There is no cure. None.’
Elsa brushed her tears away with her sleeve. ‘I’m sorry,’ she said. ‘I’m sorry.’
With that, she ran out of the room, slammed the door shut behind her and locked it, wishing she had never let her curiosity get the b
etter of her.
11
Luthan pushed the binoculars towards Julian. The pair were sitting in a maroon-coloured four-wheel drive, which was parked a street away from Stephen’s office in the city’s financial district.
‘We need some idea of Nover’s routine,’ Luthan murmured. ‘And his security.’
Julian peered through the binoculars and passed them back to Luthan. ‘I’ve already told you, I know a quicker way to draw him out. This little spying act is a waste of time.’
‘You want to stay with us, you do things properly. Our way. I wonder if your parents would be impressed with the way you speak to your elders, Julian.’
Julian looked away. ‘My parents wouldn’t care. They’re dead.’
Luthan was silent. He watched the boy’s downcast reflection in the window, sheathed in misty light. Julian put a pale hand to his brow.
‘They’re dead and I caused their death,’ he muttered. ‘You know what I was doing just before they died? Playing with toy cars. Making them crash. The Ability – my Ability – made it happen.’
‘That doesn’t mean you were responsible, Julian. It could just be a –’
‘A coincidence?’ Julian snorted, turning to Luthan. ‘I thought that was the way this whole thing worked, by causing strings of coincidences …’ He trailed off, fiddling anxiously with the plastic latch on the glove compartment.
‘So that’s why you’ve been reluctant to train with us.’
‘I don’t want it,’ Julian replied, looking away. ‘I don’t need it. I don’t understand why we have it or where it comes from. But it’s a curse. You people only see the good side of it.’
Julian grabbed the handle and pushed open the door. I have to get out, he panicked, feeling suddenly claustrophobic. He hurried past an enormous queue of Stephen’s admirers, who were waiting to accost him for an autograph. It was bizarre to think that a businessman could attract the kind of screaming crowd usually reserved for pop stars; then again, Stephen was just twenty-one and handsome.