There’s a white glow leaking out between the cracks in the window boards and I can hear music, a heavy drumbeat and some mechanical, rhythmic rattling noise.
‘It smells funny,’ says Maggie. ‘I don’t wanna go in there.’
It does smell funny. Like barbecue, salty cheese and dirt.
I shrug and step out onto the road. ‘We can’t just stand here all night.’
A ka-caw from Beauty stops me.
I turn back and Maggie’s standing on the sidewalk, rubbing her left arm nervously, her chin quivering.
‘Pat,’ she says, her voice choked. ‘No.’
‘It’s OK, Mags.’ I hold out my hand. ‘I promise.’
She still doesn’t move, her big eyes begging me not to make her do this. I don’t want to make her do this. It physically hurts, in my chest, to see her so afraid. But there’s nowhere else for us to go. Leonard is our only shot and he’s here, in Hexall Hall. Somewhere.
The match, that’s all he said on the phone. Probably a forebrawl match. I just have to find it, which shouldn’t be too hard. Forebrawl matches are big business down here. Hexall Hall is always on the news because of their trouble at forebrawls – fights between Movers. People gamble on them. Supposedly the fighters listen to their Shadows, who read the forebrawl books. Every time a fighter takes a swing, the judges record the strike in the forebrawl books, which the Shadow allegedly reads in the future. That way, the Shadow is supposed to help their Mover anticipate their opponent’s next Move. It’s all a big scam, but enough Nowbies and Phase 1s don’t seem to realise that, and they sink a lot of money into it. And just because it’s a scam doesn’t make the fighting part any less real.
‘Come on, Maggie,’ I say. ‘We don’t have time for this. Let’s go.’
‘But—’ her voice squeaks, right on the edge of tears. ‘But Mom wouldn’t want us to go in there. We need to wait for Mom.’
‘We’ve been over this, Mags.’ We did. Before we left the apartment. Maggie was afraid to leave in case Mom came back. But Mom’s not coming back. Not so long as BMAC’s got her.
‘Maybe we can go—’ she swallows hard, trying to get control of her voice. ‘Maybe we can go to Officer Kelley. I can do the test. That’s all they want. I’ll do the test!’
‘Maggie, Mom doesn’t want you doing the tests. Mom wants us to go see her friend. I explained this!’
She rubs her arm faster, her eyes wandering over the strange crowds gathered outside Hexall Hall. She shakes her head and bites her lip. ‘Pat, I’m scared.’
I look up at the sky, doing my best to hold back a groan. I don’t know how to make her understand. Don’t know how to get her to just suck it up and deal with it. She’s only six.
‘I’m scared too,’ says Gabby.
When I look back, Gabby’s standing beside my sister, the two of them staring into the crowds, Beauty’s head bobbing up and down.
‘But—’ she looks down at Maggie, who’s wiping tears from her cheeks – ‘I bet they’re just people too.’
‘They’re bad people,’ says Maggie.
‘I used to think Movers were bad people.’
Maggie’s brow furrows. ‘But you are a Mover.’
‘I know. But my parents still said Movers were dangerous. So I figured they were right.’
This doesn’t make sense to Maggie, and even I’m confused. ‘Don’t they know you’re a Mover?’
Gabby nods.
Maggie and I wait for her to say more, but she just shrugs and her eyes go blank and I wonder what it is she’s remembering. What kind of parents tell their Mover daughter that Movers are dangerous? Gabby didn’t want to call them. We’re on the run from BMAC and she’s never even tried to let them know she’s all right. Gabby picks at her bloody finger and a question that I’m worried I know the answer to creeps into my head; do her parents even care?
Beauty flaps up to Gabby’s shoulder, calling her back from inside her own head.
‘I never met another Mover till I went to Romsey,’ she says. ‘And it turned out Movers weren’t so bad.’
I have to look down at my feet. She’s lying for Maggie’s sake. Because I know what life at Romsey’s like for Gabby. It’s hell. Everyone makes fun of her. Even Movers. Me. My cheeks flush hot with shame when I realise I can’t even count how many times I’ve called her ‘Gooba’.
‘It’s probably the same with Hexall Hall,’ says Gabby. ‘Can’t know what they’re really like unless we find out for ourselves.’
Maggie sniffs, wiping her nose on the back of her wrist, and nods. She looks up at Beauty, perched on Gabby’s shoulder, and holds her hand out for Gabby to take. Gabby stiffens, surprised, like she doesn’t know what to do with it. So Maggie just grabs her hand anyway.
‘We have to stick together though,’ announces Maggie, holding her other hand out to me. ‘Promise, OK?’
‘Uh, promise,’ I agree, wrapping my hand around hers.
And Maggie steps out into the street, allowing me and Gabby to guide her into the thick of the crowd.
What just happened? Gabby rarely says much at all, even when I beg her to. And she managed to convince my baby sister to get over her fear of Hexall Hall. All with what she said. I steal a sideways glance at Gabriela Vargas. Her parents taught her to be afraid of Movers. What kind of life is that? And her Shadow. He killed two BMAC agents. Killed them with lightning. That’s the sort of person she’s had haunting her brain since birth? I’ve been going to school with Gabby since kindergarten, and I’m only now realising how little I know about her.
The smells get stronger as we’re swallowed up by the crowd and Maggie covers her face. A couple of guys are roasting chicken over a flaming garbage can, a woman squats on the ground cleaning more. My nose wrinkles when I’m close enough to see it’s not chicken. Above me Beauty lets out an angry squawk. Because it’s a pair of fat black crows lying dead in the woman’s lap, her hands furiously ripping out the feathers. She grins a toothless grin at me.
Gabby might’ve been wrong about people from Hexall Hall not being so bad.
The woman’s glassy eyes linger on Maggie, at Beauty landing on her shoulder. Her grin fades to a dumb-looking open mouth, and she smacks her lips as if Beauty might be next on the menu. Or Maggie. She notices me glaring and her eyes narrow.
‘Come on, Mags,’ I say, pulling her along.
The front doors to Hexall Hall are boarded up, but the crowd seems to be flowing up and down a large ramp to our left that leads to an underground entrance. ‘We can get in there, I think.’
Maggie’s too busy watching the people moving around us to care what I’ve said, but Gabby nods and I lead them down the ramp towards the doorway.
Maggie lets out a sudden squeal as a man waddles past her. Beauty screams and swoops between her and the man, who grunts at us. My stomach flips when I get a look at his face – covered with scars, like someone came at him with a blade once upon a time. His right eye is swollen shut and bruised and his ear is warped and bubbly.
He grumbles something and Maggie gasps when he takes his fist and bumps his forehead with it. I’m shocked too, having never seen anyone do it in real life, only once in a bad movie that Mom caught me watching. She freaked out and turned it off right away. Because that’s how they Shelve you – a shot to the forehead.
‘What happened to his face?’ says Maggie, mouth gaping in horror.
I shake my head because I don’t want to answer. But I’ll bet he’s a forebrawler. Which means we’re heading the right way. I give my sister’s hand a reassuring squeeze as we pass through the open entrance to Hexall Hall.
In here, the crowd has dispersed a bit because the ramp opens up into a massive dark chamber filled with still more of these strange forgotten people. It’s a train station after all, old and rundown, seeming to stretch into forever. Floodlights, strung up haphazardly at the tops of giant marble columns, flicker and struggle to stay on. Beauty lets out a nervous garble from her spot on Maggie’s head, wings
flapping all anxious-like and I see why. The columns stretch up fifty feet at least, and at the top are crows. Hundreds of ’em.
‘Whoa,’ breathes Maggie, and Beauty lets out a rattle of agreement. What are they all doing here?
The roar of a crowd brings my attention back to the ground. Between the massive posts there’s a giant blue canopy, which seems to be where everyone’s heading. The sour smell of beer and other harsh boozes stings my nose as men and women shout between gulps.
There’s a sound of a bell somewhere inside the crowd, and arms fly into the air as they howl together and they start to climb all over each other.
The forebrawl match.
‘Where is she?’ Maggie asks, looking up at me, waiting for me to answer.
‘What?’
‘Gabby,’ she says, shaking my arm with urgency. ‘She’s gone. We said we’d stick together and she’s gone!’
I whirl round and Maggie’s right. Gabby’s not with us. People in soiled tattered rags stumble around singing and cheering. They pile into Hexall Hall by the dozen, but there’s no sign of Gabby in the bunch.
And I’m here alone.
Alone with Maggie.
She tugs on my arm, hard. ‘Stick together, Pat. You promised. We gotta find her!’
Beauty squawks at me. Motion seconded.
My teeth feel soft in my gums, and I bite down to stop the feeling. And something Gabby said before gnaws at my gut. He’ll find me.
TWELVE
Everyone’s coming while I’m trying to go. The droves of people piling into Hexall Hall don’t even glance at me as they shoulder by, knocking me and Maggie around. I pull my little sister in front and keep my hands on her shoulders, guiding her back up the ramp to street level.
And I feel my armpits getting hot.
Where the breezes did she go? And it’s in my head again – the BMAC agents’ screams as they fell. He’ll find me.
Beauty screeches, taking to the air, and I see there’s someone blocking Maggie’s path, a young guy with hair down to his elbows.
‘Looking for a decent dinner?’ he asks. Maggie jumps as he holds up a couple of naked crows by their tails. ‘Plucked ’em myself, I did.’ Then he turns his mouth to his shoulder and starts shouting as if someone’s there: ‘Shut up! You didn’t tell me how. I know how to clean a buzzard. You were no help!’ He takes a breath and turns back to us, smiling pleasantly, ‘Five dollars!’
I shake my head and pull Maggie close. The man throws the crows back into his cart with an angry slam and wheels away, cursing under his breath. ‘Don’t interrupt me again! You ruined another sale! Just shut it! Shut it!’
I move to take a step but Maggie pulls me back. She’s watching shopping-cart man.
‘Maggie, come on. We gotta find Gabby.’
She doesn’t move. ‘Do they always fight like that?’
‘He’s just some crazy person, come on, Mags!’
Maggie’s rooted to the spot, staring, and now the guy’s got his head in his hands, stomping his foot. ‘No, he isn’t,’ she says, turning back to me. ‘It’s like Gabby said. He’s not so bad, just upset. Upset with his Shadow.’
I stop, and look back at shopping-cart man. He’s rocking now, his hands buried in his hair. My eyes drift through the crowd and I notice there’s more of them, more men and women, muttering to themselves or yelling at nothing. My Shadow’s so quiet I never think of him as someone to talk to. But these Movers … they must all be higher than Phase 1.
I tighten my grip on Maggie’s hand. She figured out what all these Movers were doing. She figured out they were talking to their Shadows. And I hate that she did. Because it makes me remember seeing her in the bathtub talking quietly over the drain to no one. Strange behaviours. Phase 2.
My brain sees it all – Maggie, she’s filthy and her clothes are limp and worn. She’s talking to herself, just like she did in the tub. She’s talking to her Shadow. Whoever it is, I hate them. I want to scream at them to leave her alone, to never talk to her again. I want to scream at Dad’s Shadow, Oscar Joji, for coming here and tearing up our family. And at Gabby’s, to tell him to go back to whatever the breezes time he came from. He’ll find me. I know he will. I want all Shadows to disintegrate into nothing, just spontaneously combust and leave us all alone, and at that moment I’m seething with resentment at my own.
I can feel him, somewhere far away but always there, like a constant stink. My brain starts to tickle and I know all this hostility has caught his attention. There’s confusion on his end. I can feel it and I’m glad. If I can’t scare away Maggie’s Shadow, then mine’s the next best thing.
There’s a shift in his attitude, like when the shower decides to freeze you without warning. He’s shunning me, doing his best to block me out, and I back off. I’m tired. I don’t want to remember he’s there anyway, remember any of them are there. But I’m not allowed to forget—
‘There!’ Maggie points to a flaming garbage can. ‘She’s over there!’
Maggie sets off at a run, dragging me after her and scurries up to Gabby, who’s leaning against the ramp railing, Beauty landing beside her. Gabby’s attention is focused on the street. Just leaning there. Warming up by the fire, like she didn’t come here with us at all.
‘Gabby!’ says Maggie. ‘Stick together! You promised, remember?’
Gabby doesn’t turn round.
‘Gooba,’ I bark at her, furious, ‘what are you doing? Are you insane? We’ve been looking everywhere for you.’
She glances at me quickly and there’s hate there – I shouldn’t have called her that; she just scared me is all. I feel like punching myself for letting the stupid nickname come out of my mouth. I think about saying sorry, but she’s already turned her attention back to the street. ‘Over there.’ She nods towards a group of three or four Hexall Hallers hanging around a streetlight.
‘So?’
‘The one in the middle,’ she says. ‘Watch his hand.’
There’s a man standing in the middle of the group, wearing a grubby floppy hat and a raincoat about five sizes too big. He’s definitely the centre of attention, as the rest of the group all seem to be talking at him and no one else. He brings his fist to his mouth for a minute and lowers it as one of the others starts pointing at the ramp and his hand goes to his mouth again.
‘See it?’ says Gabby.
‘What?’
‘It’s a droidlet.’
I watch as he lifts his hand again and this time I see his mouth moving. He’s talking to someone. Definitely a droidlet. ‘So?’
‘BMAC,’ she says. ‘Look at his shoes.’
Through the group I catch a glimpse of the man’s feet – clean black boots. New. The same kind Officer Dan wears.
The skin on my neck starts to tingle. ‘We need to find Leonard,’ I tell her.
Maggie looks up at me. ‘Is BMAC here for us?’
I shake my head, for Maggie’s sake. But honestly, I’m worried about the same thing. ‘We should get out of here.’
The three of us hurry back down the ramp, Beauty leading the way into the throngs of Hexall Hall. The ring in the centre of the tent, the one everyone’s crowding around and screaming at, has two forebrawlers in the middle, beating each other up. And I let myself hope BMAC’s just here to break it up.
But we can’t operate on hope.
I stare uselessly into the buzzing tent, not sure how to go about finding Leonard. He said someone would be here. He said the name. I can’t remember what it was.
There’s another loud roar from the crowd as one of the fighters goes down. A ding of the bell.
‘Pat,’ shouts Maggie over the crowd, ‘what are we supposed to do?’
‘He said someone would be here!’
‘Who did?’ asks Gabby.
‘Leonard!’ He said the name when he called. He said it. What was it?
The roar of the crowd merges from a mess of voices into one single sound, all of them chanting, fists in the air as so
meone new steps into the ring.
An R. It started with an R.
The new fighter is a woman, tall and slender, toned brown skin and a long black braid that hangs down to the middle of her back. Her eyes are dagger-focused on the last match’s winner – a muscle-scarred bald man, easily four times her size. But she doesn’t look worried.
‘The Leonard man is here?’ asks Maggie.
‘No!’ Not Leonard. The name! The name that starts with R.
And then it’s there, rising up and around the pillars, thundering in my ears.
Rani! Rani!
The crowd’s chant bellows the name that’s been hiding in my memory. The someone Leonard said would be waiting. Rani! Rani!
The girl in the ring. The crowd bellows for her.
THIRTEEN
There’s a ding of a bell and the giant bald man starts shifting on his feet while the crowd roars. The woman – Rani – just stands there, watching him dance. She’s the one, the one Leonard said would be waiting, but how am I supposed to get to her?
Gabby’s hand is on my shoulder. She squeezes hard. ‘Over there.’
When I look, I see the disguised BMAC officer standing by the door with the crow-plucking woman from before. She’s latched to his arm, gesturing wildly at her shoulder and then flapping her arms like a bird.
Her head swivels from side to side while she speaks to the officer, who surveys the crowd with a cool, hard expression. The woman’s eyes catch mine, lighting up with recognition, and she thrusts a pointed finger in our direction.
‘Ouch,’ complains Maggie as my hand instinctively tightens its grip on hers.
The BMAC officer glances our way as the crow woman goes on yakking in his ear, flapping her arms and pointing. I pull my hood tighter and turn my head away. ‘Follow me,’ I order, making a hard line for the safety of the crowd.
‘Pat,’ says Gabby quietly, nodding at a couple of young women leaning against one of the pillars, shiny shoes poking out beneath grubby skirts that aren’t quite grubby enough. One’s got her hand pressed to her ear, the other lifting her hand to her mouth to speak.
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