by Jon Robinson
More than once she noticed the masked figures looking at her, as though they had detected she was an intruder – and she felt her heart seize in her chest. She lifted the mask halfway, wiped her face with her sleeve and continued on.
There was some commotion coming from the centre of the largest group. Jes craned her neck. A girl was being carried along by a man and a woman.
Emmanuel appeared in front of the fire. ‘So, this is my attacker?’ he said, eyebrow raised. ‘You’re … smaller than I expected.’
Jes pulled back behind the tree. He doesn’t realize it was me.
‘I swear I didn’t do anything!’ she heard Elsa cry. ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about!’
‘Even if it wasn’t you, you’re still part of the Guild.’
‘The who?’ Elsa stammered, attempting to lie. ‘Never heard of them!’
Emmanuel placed his hand inches away from her head. ‘You have the Ability, girl. I can feel it.’
He said something quietly and Elsa was lifted and thrown to the ground. She began kicking and screaming as a rope was tied round her foot.
‘Someone fetch the motorcycle,’ Emmanuel ordered. ‘I’m going to see her punished.’
Jes ran out. ‘Please, let me do it, sir!’ she shouted from behind her mask. ‘I – I want to punish her.’
‘Enthusiasm,’ Emmanuel announced to his followers, gesturing to Jes. ‘That’s what I like to see.’ He nodded and Jes sprinted off, wondering what she was going to do next.
44
The boy at the front of the classroom tried to stand, but found himself too weak. He sank back into his seat and watched vacantly as a pair of guards walked over to the teacher, who had been sitting to the side of the projection screen.
‘We need to know what’s going on,’ he heard one of them say, not bothering to lower his voice. ‘Something isn’t right – I mean, look at the kids –’ He gestured at the room.
The inmates had been forced into watching the same film, played over and over, in shifts. Almost every inmate in the room was bleeding from their nose. Many had succumbed to unconsciousness; others were on the verge.
‘I have my orders and you have yours,’ she answered, not bothering to lower her voice. ‘Return them to their cells and bring the others in for the next shift.’
‘But they’re not even learning anything, they just –’
‘He’s right,’ said another guard. ‘This is completely mad.’
‘What part of orders don’t you understand?’
The boy watched the guard reluctantly make his way to the door. ‘Come on,’ he said with a sigh. ‘Get back to your cells, everyone.’
The boy eventually managed to stand and followed the line of others to the door. There was a peculiar feeling in the room: a hazy, pulsing sensation that seemed to be sucking him towards it. The inmates weren’t the only ones who felt it, though – the guards did too. He could see it on their faces.
He and the other inmates left in a line, while the rest were ushered in to take their place. They shuffled along the walkway, drooping and defeated.
‘Inside,’ the guard said to him, pointing to his empty cell. The boy froze, looking at the thin mattress. A few hours of sleep and then it would be back to the classroom again.
‘I can’t do it,’ the boy said desperately. ‘Please, I can’t do it any more. I feel sick.’
‘Get in.’ The guard grabbed him and threw him across to his bed. ‘Next shift starts in six hours. Try to get some rest.’
The boy scrambled up and ran to the cell door, but the guard quickly locked it. He dropped down, resting his forehead against the bars, and closed his eyes.
When he looked up again, he noticed his cell light was beginning to flicker.
45
Stephen arrived at the restaurant surrounded by a fleet of bodyguards, all virtually interchangeable men: bulky and sullen with shaved heads and neck fat spilling over their suit collars. He pushed through to the front of the queue and the maître d’ hopped out from behind a lectern. ‘I’m sorry, sir, but there is a queue …’
‘Don’t you know who I am?’ Stephen sneered at him.
‘No, I can’t say I do, sir …’
‘Then take a guess!’
The maître d’ looked at Stephen’s solemn bodyguards. ‘Um, a pop star?’
‘Pop star!’ Stephen giggled. ‘Maybe some day. We shall see.’
He sauntered through, as the maître d’ chased after him. ‘Sir, do you have a reservation?’
‘Yes. All of these seats are mine. You might as well tell everyone else they’re going to need to find somewhere else to eat, because quite frankly I don’t want them anywhere near me. In fact, I don’t even want to look at them.’
A short while later, Stephen was seated alone at a table in the middle of the enormous Art-Deco-inspired restaurant. He delicately attached a napkin to his suit and glared as a nervous young waiter fumbled with a match to light the candles. Once he’d succeeded he turned to Stephen, lowered his head and said, ‘Sir, I would like to inform you that today’s specials are –’
‘Are you educated?’ Stephen interrupted, gazing vacantly at the leather-bound menu.
‘I’m sorry, sir?’
‘Educated. Are you educated? Do you have an education?’
‘Well, yes, I suppose I –’
Stephen sighed, rolling his eyes. ‘What are you educated in?’
‘I-I have a degree in politics,’ the man stammered.
‘And here you are, serving the richest man in the country. How fitting. A fine politician you’ll make some day!’ He giggled and tossed the menu on to the table. ‘Bring me the soup.’
‘Sir.’ The waiter nodded and hurried quickly from the table.
Stephen drummed his fingers impatiently, casting a look at his army of surly bodyguards seated in twos at little tables around the restaurant. He smiled at how bizarrely intimate they looked, then removed his phone from his pocket and dialled a number.
‘Rayner,’ he said quietly. ‘I haven’t heard anything from you recently. I want to make sure that ghastly woman has been obeying my commands, as discussed …’
‘This isn’t Rayner,’ said a voice on the other end. ‘Who is this?’
Stephen looked puzzled. ‘Who are you? This is Rayner’s phone.’
‘Was Rayner’s phone. We found him in the forest. His neck was broken … who am I speaking to?’
Susannah, was Stephen’s first thought. Whatever had happened, she was behind it. He had grown to increasingly distrust the woman, especially after the fuss she had made when he had revealed his plans to her. Without Rayner to oversee her, there was nothing stopping her from using the project against him. Yes, he thought. That’s what she’s going to do. She had to be stopped, at once.
‘Sir, your starter has arrived,’ said the waiter as he placed a bowl of soup on the table.
With a swift motion, Stephen swatted the bowl away, hurling it across the table and on to the floor. The bowl shattered.
Stephen nursed his hand and got to his feet, watched by his obedient bodyguards who stood up instantly. ‘How quickly can we get to Scotland?’ he said.
‘We could take the helicopter, sir, but in this weather it’d be a –’
Stephen grabbed the man round the throat. His delicate, manicured hands squeezed his assistant gently. ‘I don’t want to hear your excuses about the weather, or any other nonsense,’ he hissed. ‘Take me. Now.’
46
‘It’s no good, Pyra,’ said Julian. The pair stood a short way from the storage unit. ‘We’ve got no idea where they’ve taken her.’ He pulled her away from the chain-link fence.
‘We can’t just leave her,’ Pyra snapped. ‘God knows what they’ll do to her …’
‘Alyn’s gone to find Emmanuel,’ Julian answered. ‘There’s no way he’ll let anything happen to her.’
Pyra slammed her fist into the fence. ‘You’d better be right.’
‘I usually am,’ Julian said. ‘We can’t save Elsa. But we still need to get Stephen’s key.’
Pyra turned, sighing. ‘I’ll speak with the others. We’ll arrange something.’
Julian shook his head. ‘I’m not wasting any more time, Pyra. I’m going now.’
‘Julian –’
‘I’m through with waiting, Pyra. I’m going after Stephen.’
Pyra and Julian drove across London to Stephen’s skyscraper. Rain filled the sky, lashing down in great swathes, fizzing against the concrete and turning the remaining troughs of snow into slush.
‘It’s all shut up,’ Pyra said, giving the main doors a shove when they arrived.
Julian took Stephen’s stolen swipe card from his pocket. He had taken it back from Luthan, just after they tied him up.
Julian ran the card across the box and the revolving doors opened. The pair walked through the deserted reception area to the lift.
‘SIGIL,’ Julian muttered, looking at the list of companies on the board. ‘Top floor. Of course.’
They stepped inside and the lift rose swiftly in silence.
‘It’s starting to feel like the end,’ Pyra said, gazing at her reflection in the mirrored wall.
‘The end,’ Julian murmured beside her. ‘Yeah. I suppose it is.’ He mustered as much of a smile as he could but said nothing more.
The lift soon pinged and the pair stepped out. They walked along the darkened corridor searching for Stephen’s office until a whirring sound roared suddenly from above.
‘A helicopter,’ Julian said. ‘He’s here.’
The pair ran up the remaining flights of stairs and came out on the roof.
The helicopter was waiting on a landing pad. The force from its blades blew Pyra and Julian’s hair over their faces and hurled beads of water across the roof.
Julian crept out and crawled behind an electricity generator. Just as Pyra sneaked beside him, a solitary slim figure emerged from another stairwell and scurried over to the helicopter.
‘There he is,’ Julian whispered, watching Stephen closely. ‘You take care of the pilot and anyone else inside the helicopter, but Nover’s mine.’ He gave Pyra a strained smile, then climbed out from behind the electricity generator, blocking Stephen’s path.
Stephen stopped. ‘You. Again. You’re becoming quite the pest …’
Julian charged at Stephen and launched himself at the billionaire’s waist. Stephen fell backwards and squealed, trying to claw Julian’s eyes.
‘I want the Pledge key,’ Julian said, shaking Stephen. ‘Give it to me!’
Stephen gave a sudden twist somehow, and managed to hurl Julian to the side. The two wrestled on the roof in the rain, struggling, pulling and grabbing at one another.
‘Give up!’ Julian yelled. ‘We’re going to end the project … We’re going to destroy the prison … You’re finished!’
Stephen shrieked, trying to free himself from Julian’s grip. As he turned to the side, a button tore on his shirt, revealing the Pledge key hanging round his neck.
‘I’ve got it!’ Julian shouted to Pyra, who had just thrown the pilot out of his seat and delivered a spinning kick into his chest.
He reached down, grabbed the key and tore the gold chain away from Stephen’s neck. The key flew from the chain and landed in a puddle.
With Julian distracted momentarily, Stephen opened his mouth and bit down into Julian’s ear.
Julian screamed.
Stephen lifted his head, mouth frothing with blood, and spat half of Julian’s ear into the streaming rain.
Pyra looked up on hearing Julian’s cry. ‘Julian!’ she cried, watching as a frenzied Stephen dived in for another bite. But the boy moved out of the way at the last moment and Stephen tripped, staggering towards the edge of the roof.
Julian reached out as Stephen fell, catching his hand. He slammed against the roof edge, with the young billionaire dangling hundreds of metres above the street below. Julian squinted as the freezing wind blew up at him. His ear felt like it was on fire and he could feel the cold trickle of blood on his neck. He was tempted to release his fingers and let Stephen fall, but something kept him holding on.
Julian reached down with his other hand, clutching Stephen’s slender wrist. Once his grip was secure, Julian began trying to hoist him back on to the roof. But then, just as his fingers found Stephen’s diamond-covered watch, the clasp broke.
Stephen slipped out of Julian’s grasp like silk and spiralled silently through the rain to the street below. What struck Julian the most was that the young billionaire had not shown any fear or sorrow. He had not screamed. He had not even made a sound.
Julian sat mutely for a moment and gingerly touched his ear. His fingers came away blood-red.
He could feel a surge of emotion building inside him, of feelings that had fused together: the lightness of relief, the pity of his pain, the guilt and shock of Stephen’s eyes meeting his before he fell to his death. The emotions rose through his chest and caught in a knot in his throat, choking him.
‘You OK?’ he heard Pyra say beside him. Her voice seemed a hundred miles away.
Julian nodded, biting his lip. He looked at Pyra and saw the sympathy in her eyes and his face broke. Tears streamed down his cheeks. It was the first time he had cried since his parents died.
Pyra knelt beside him. She put her arms round him and squeezed him. ‘It’s OK, Julian,’ she whispered. ‘Everything’s OK.’
When Julian had finished sobbing he crawled over to the key. ‘We did it,’ he said, turning the key over in his hands.
‘You did it, Julian,’ Pyra replied. ‘You did it.’
47
After finding the motorcycle leaning up against a tree, Jes rode it back across the park towards the large group by the fire.
If it wasn’t for her father owning a similar bike and letting her ride with him, she might not have known what to do at all. Thank God for his mid-life crisis, she thought.
Elsa was silhouetted in front of the fire, held down by two of Emmanuel’s followers. One of them was tying a rope to her foot.
‘Help me!’ Elsa yelled, kicking her legs frantically. Tears rolled from her eyes. ‘Help me, someone, help!’
Jes parked the bike in front of the group. She looked down at Elsa, willing her to recognize her green eyes behind the mask.
‘Take her for a little ride around the park to warm her up,’ Emmanuel said. ‘After her face has got used to the grass, take her on to the gravel.’
‘Yes, sir,’ Jes said, watching Elsa struggling with her captors.
‘Stop right there!’ came a cry from the trees. In all the commotion no one had noticed the police car driving into the park. Its flashing blue siren gave a single indignant blurt.
Emmanuel’s followers moved swiftly in front of Elsa as the car slowed.
Two police officers climbed out. ‘I don’t know who you people are or what you’re doing here, but enough is enough,’ said one of the men. ‘Who’s in charge of all this?’
Emmanuel walked round from behind the fire with his hands raised. ‘My apologies, officers,’ he said. ‘But I can assure you nothing untoward is occurring here.’
‘Who are you?’ said the police officer, looking around at the masked group. ‘Are you protesters or something?’
The group was silent, apart from Elsa’s muffled cries behind them.
The officer pushed a few members of the group aside and saw Elsa gagged and bound on the grass, trying to free herself.
He removed his radio from his belt, but before he could say a word a high-pitched wail filled the air. A pulse trembled through each member of the gathered crowd. Swarms of confused birds flew up and disappeared into the black sky, giving nothing away except the beating of several hundred wings. The surrounding street lights flickered then went dark, and all of the light was sucked out of the nearby buildings – a ripple effect, one after the other – until there was nothing but a panorama of impenetrable darknes
s.
‘Sir,’ said the man nearest to Emmanuel, in awe. ‘The power … It’s all gone … The whole city is blacked out …’ He turned to Emmanuel, eyes wide. ‘Your plan has worked.’
‘Hello?’ the police officer said, jabbing his radio. ‘Can you read me?’
‘He can’t,’ Emmanuel said, as the crowd surged towards the powerless police officers.
As the officers were buried under a barrage of howling, yelling bodies, Jes hurried over and pulled Elsa to her feet. ‘Elsa, it’s me, it’s Jes,’ she said, raising her mask. ‘Get on the bike.’
A little shaky and still sobbing, Elsa scrambled on to the rear of the bike, struggling to free herself from the rope.
‘That sound,’ she said, sniffing. ‘Look, there’s no power anywhere. Everything’s gone black.’
‘I know,’ Jes said quietly, wishing that there was some other explanation but unable to conjure one. Emmanuel’s plan had worked, and his next step was to tear the city to pieces.
She revved the engine and the pair sped off together through the park.
48
Alyn waited on the outer edges of the park, watching Emmanuel and his followers leave.
‘Alyn! Over here!’
He turned, scanning the darkness. Elsa and Jes were waiting on the motorbike.
‘Emmanuel still has the key,’ he panted. ‘I didn’t get it. He’s gone. I don’t know where to.’ He stopped. ‘We were too late.’
‘Come on – let’s go after him,’ said Jes. ‘We can beat him, Alyn. I know we can.’
Alyn was about to speak but noticed a trickle of blood dripping from Elsa’s nose.
‘Elsa,’ he said.
Elsa checked her fingers and turned pale. ‘It’s happening to me too,’ she panicked.
‘You must stay with the others,’ Alyn said. ‘Jes, there needs to be someone who doesn’t have the Ability – who isn’t going to be affected.’