‘Great idea. What’ve they got?’ I took the menu from the waitress. My choice was obvious. ‘Chocolate Penguin Surprise, please.’
Down the other end of the table, Brand made his impressive penguin call which sounded like a car with a flat battery trying to start. He banged a spoon on his high chair table. The restaurant fell silent.
‘Oops,’ I murmured. ‘Note to self: don’t mention penguins.’
Alex leapt up and put a bottle in Brand’s mouth to stop the noise. ‘Something caught in his throat,’ he lied quickly.
Right on cue, Brand made a sound like a cat with a fur ball. Opal hurried over to pat his back but from the gleam in the toddler’s eye it was just another act. She murmured thanks to Alex, who smiled charmingly in reply.
I gave him a point for a good save even though his fib made my throat ache.
No doubt about it: Alex and I were better off living on different continents.
As if hearing my thoughts, Alex’s eyes met mine down the length of the table, a thrilling jolt of blue fire. My bones tingled in the aftermath of my lie. It appeared there was more doubt in my mind than I liked to admit.
Cornwall, England
I got off the minibus outside the Smugglers Cove Lodge to find Angel and Summer were waiting for me. Bag thrown on the ground, I disappeared into a group hug.
‘Hey, you guys, it’s so great to see you!’ I checked them over to see if they’d changed since Easter when we last met up. ‘Summer, you look fabulous!’
She did. Were those some sneaky long layers in her black hair? The bits at the front now curled round onto her chest rather than falling down the back with the rest.
Summer wiped the back of her hand across her brow with exaggerated relief. ‘Phew! I wasn’t sure what you were going to say. You reduced my confidence to dust over those white jeans last time.’
‘And what about me?’ asked Angel, prodding my ribs. ‘Don’t I look gorgeous too?’
I grinned. ‘Angel, you look just the same as ever.’
‘Bah. I’m taking that as a compliment.’
‘It is.’ I always envied Angel for her straight hair, the colour of wild honey; she told me she was jealous of my curls. Both of us spent a fortune on hair products trying to be like the other. The only party happy with that outcome were the makers of the lotions and potions. Moral of that story: I should quit worrying about my hair and invest in the cosmetics industry.
‘Earth to Misty?’ Summer was used to my little mind-wanders.
‘Oh, sorry. Just planning how I’m going to make my first million.’ I picked up my bag. The other savants who had come in my busload had already gone inside the lodge to reception. The campsite at Smugglers Cove looked more like a wooded dell than a sea inlet. I could see cabins scattered among the silver birch trees. ‘Verdict?’
‘Not bad,’ said Angel, leading me inside. ‘We’re sharing a cabin. There was supposed to be a fourth girl but they said something about her being a no-show.’
‘That’s a shame but then it’s fun to be just the three of us.’ I put my bag down by the desk and signed in, my name a big looping scrawl compared to the neat ones above mine.
‘Having a fourth would’ve made it even more Famous Five,’ said Summer. ‘Do you think they thought about that when they chose the name for this place?’
Angel shook her head. ‘No, it really is what the cove is called. I checked a map.’
‘Awesome. So we’re near the sea?’ I asked.
‘You can’t see it from here but it’s not far. Just through the trees and then down a steep path.’
The sun was shining; the first event wasn’t until four; I had my two best friends with me and my swimming costume in my bag …
‘Let me just dump my stuff in the cabin, then are you up for a swim?’
‘Need you ask?’ said Angel.
The cove was everything you could hope for in a little Cornish beach: a half-moon of pale sand, plenty of interesting rocks to climb or jump from, a chilly but blue stretch of sheltered water. The tide was coming in so we had to leave our towels and shoes further up the beach. Holding hands we readied ourselves for our annual ritual.
‘On the count of three. No hesitations. No deviations. No turning back,’ said Angel.
‘One. Two. Three!’ counted Summer.
Screaming as we ran down the beach, we went straight into the water, wincing at the cold. The penalty for not going in first time was to have the others throw you in so there was a big incentive not to chicken out.
‘I can’t feel my legs!’ squawked Angel.
‘You’re lucky. I can and they’re begging me to get out.’ Summer strode on further. ‘Now for the waist. Ooo-ow!’
‘Shoulders under and then it gets better!’ I shouted as I always did. I struck out, going for a vigorous crawl to get the blood circulating. My friends were only a stroke behind. We swam around a half-submerged rock. By the time we faced the shore again we were all acclimatized to the temperature. I hung weightless, enjoying the rocking sensation of the waves.
‘Beats swimming in a pool,’ sighed Angel.
‘Certainly does.’ I smiled as Angel played with the droplets running off her fingers, making them spin in the sunshine. ‘I haven’t been in the sea since last year.’
‘But I thought you went on the beach in South Africa. We saw the photographs.’ She giggled.
‘I don’t know if you’ve noticed, Angel, but it’s winter at the other end of the world. Far too cold. I went in my aunt and uncle’s pool but that’s heated by solar power.’
‘And did Hunk-of-the-Month go in with you?’
Both my friends had been quick to ‘like’ my postings of Alex.
‘It wasn’t that way between us.’ I floated on my back, enjoying the tickle of my hair drifting around me. Alex: blue eyes, charming smile, swirl of chestnut hair, deep voice that got inside you …
A girl-made wave splashed me. ‘Why ever not?’ said Angel. ‘Here was I hoping you’d come back with tales of romance to while away the campfire evenings.’
I trod water and shook the droplets from my face. ‘I’ll pay you back for that.’
‘Of course.’ Angel would expect no less from me. ‘But first tell me how you could possibly turn down a guy like that. He was looking at you taking the photo with such, ooo, hunger.’ She shivered.
‘Sadly, he manages to project that rip-off-my-shirt sex-appeal to everyone. It’s as natural to him as breathing. He and I didn’t hit it off. Our gifts clashed.’ I frowned. ‘Or more accurately, mine cancelled his out. Not a good combo.’
‘Really?’ This piqued Summer’s interest. ‘He’s a savant? Did you check his date of birth?’
I started swimming for shore. If I was going to be interrogated on my awkward relationship with Alex, I preferred to do so with sand under my feet. ‘Why? Are you saying that clashing with each other is a promising sign? I don’t think so. Besides, he’s a year ahead so must be too old for me. My birthday’s the thirtieth of December. He must be well outside the two weeks either side normally allowed for potential hits.’
I waded out and wrapped myself in a towel. Grains of sand coated my feet like slippers. Angel and Summer joined me on the shore. Summer had a butterfly-print cotton robe to put on so wasn’t freezing like Angel and I were. She’s good at forward planning.
Summer squeezed her hair. ‘I’m just saying you shouldn’t discount it. As you pointed out, it’s winter down there. Their school years run differently from ours. He might not be as old as you think.’
Oh my goodness. ‘You’re right. I’m as dumb as a brick sometimes.’ It suddenly seemed of immense importance to text Tarryn and ask. ‘Shall we go back and shower?’ I dragged my sandals nearer with a tug of telekinesis.
‘Sure. First one to the cabin gets the bathroom!’ Angel was already running as she shouted this.
Summer and I walked back, knowing we’d lost that race.
‘Now remind me: why did her parents pick
that name for her?’ asked Summer.
‘I don’t think either of them had a gift of foresight,’ I replied.
When we arrived for the camp briefing in the lodge games room, we discovered that many old friends had pitched up during the afternoon. The English savant youth camp had a core membership of teens from thirteen to eighteen; most of us were regulars and we had already checked out the birthday thing so knew that, unless a new person joined us, we were all destined just to be friends rather than soulfinders. The outcome was that we could all relax in each other’s company. It was great to be with the other people of our age who understood the trials of living with a gift. We could rehash our triumphs and failures over the year and expect a sympathetic audience. I was usually much in demand for an account of my last twelve months as I was something of a long-running joke for most of them. I was sort of OK with that but under my bluff laugh-it-off demeanour, I didn’t find it so amusing. It worried me that I couldn’t control my gift. If my experience in South Africa was anything to judge by, I was getting worse at it, not better. I tried to console myself with the thought that at least I didn’t start fires like Yves Benedict, Xav’s younger brother, when I let it slip.
I scanned the room, revelling in the knowledge that I had a whole week with old friends. A couple of guys appeared to be missing and there were some new faces too. Funny to think my sister Gale would be joining us next year; this was the last year of being the only Devon at camp.
Paul Hampton, organizer of Youth Savant activities in England, came into the meeting room.
‘Hello again, guys. Great to see you back for another dose of camp. As well as the usual fun and games, I’ve got some new ideas for us to try out this week, following the feedback forms from last year.’ Paul perched on the edge of the snooker table, waiting for us to settle on the chairs, tables, and floor around him. He was in his late twenties, not classically handsome but he had this twinkle to his eye that made you look twice. ‘I’ve got Lara with me this year to help with you girls so give her an easy time of it, won’t you?’ He waved to a young woman whom I recognized as an old camp student from some years back. With a halo of Afro black hair, gorgeous dark complexion, and huge brown eyes, Lara packed quite a punch in the looks department. ‘I don’t want you scaring her away like you did my last helper.’
We laughed at the suggestion that we frightened off his old assistant. Elise had been a terrifying Danish lady who had kept us all on our toes with unannounced room inspections. Fortunately she had found her soulfinder in India and was now, according to Summer, terrorizing the youth of Goa at their camp.
Paul and Lara passed round the camp brochures. I flicked through mine, recognizing most of the outdoor activity choices from previous years. I made a mental note to go for body boarding. The morning slots, however, were all blocked out for something called Personal Development.
Finn, a savant from Manchester, put the question for everyone.
‘Hey, Paul, what’s with the morning slots?’
‘That’s the big change this year. Some of you expressed an interest at the end of last camp in learning related to your gifts. Traditionally, we let you figure it out on your own but there have been a number of incidents over recent months that have forced a rethink. We believe you could benefit from some guidance from more experienced savants.’
I could feel my blush creeping up my cheeks. I had written on the form last year that I would like more help controlling my gift (I had been feeling particularly sore after being bullied out of my last school). I must have foreseen that I would make zero progress over the year that had just gone. But as I didn’t want to be blamed for spoiling the fun factor of camp with work, I kept quiet.
Finn wrinkled his nose. ‘You mean you’re putting us through exercises or something? Won’t that be like school?’
Paul grinned. ‘I promise you, it’ll be great fun. Your tutors know you’re on holiday and have been asked to think of ways of teaching that’ll appeal to you.’
‘Aw, man.’
‘Finn.’ Paul’s smile dimmed. ‘Give it a chance, please. And now, while we are on more serious subjects, there’s something you need to know. We have two special guests for the evening to explain. A few of you have already met them but they are here for a tragic reason so please listen carefully to what they have to say. Lara, can you invite them in?’
Lara popped her head round the door and then Uriel entered, followed by his younger brother Victor. Passing my seat, Uriel stopped and gave me a quick hug.
‘Sorry, Misty, I couldn’t text you to tell you I was coming. You’ll understand in a moment why.’ He then joined his brother at the front as Paul continued speaking.
‘Our two visitors are Uriel and Victor Benedict. You all know Misty.’ A buzz of agreement went round the room. ‘Well, two of Misty’s aunts are soulfinders to their brothers—how many of you are there?’ Paul said, trying to keep the tone light, though I knew with Victor, the FBI agent, in the room we were headed for dark territory.
‘Seven,’ said Victor. His features had a sharper edge than Uriel’s, the hawk among the Benedicts. His eyes were particularly intense—a grey iris rimmed by a darker ring. He wore his dark brown hair quite long but it was slicked back from his face in a manner that suited his air of ruthless control. I found him fascinating but made a point of trying to pass under his notice at family gatherings. Working on my quick-to-assume-guilt conscience, he made me feel I were about to commit a crime or had already done so and he was about to arrest me. If he had my gift, I’m sure he would never let go of a single spillikin.
He held the room with his intense gaze; I could sense even the most rebellious of us settling down to be on our best behaviour. ‘Sorry to interrupt your vacation. We are here to give you a safety briefing.’
Safety briefing? This was new. I exchanged a glance with Angel and Summer. They seemed to expect me to know something. I’m clueless, I admitted telepathically.
‘You may have already noticed that a number of your colleagues aren’t joining us this week,’ said Paul.
I ran a quick roll call in my head: no Joey Marston; Ellie Fisher was missing; and Callum MacDonald wasn’t sitting with Finn as he normally would.
‘They’ve stayed away because there is alarm in the savant community for the safety of younger members,’ Paul explained. ‘Some parents have elected to keep their children at home.’
The image of the map Uriel had showed me popped up in my mind. On the flight out, none of the murders had been in the UK and I had not felt particularly at risk.
‘Two weeks ago Mia Gordon, a newly identified savant from London, was abducted,’ said Victor, confirming my worst fear. ‘She should have been listening to this briefing with you—she was only sixteen and about to attend her first camp.’
That’s the name of the girl who should’ve been in our cabin, Summer told Angel and me.
‘Her gift was treasure seeking.’ Victor flexed his fingers, the only sign that he was upset by what he was saying as he kept his expression impassive.
Was? Oh God.
‘She turned up dead, body dumped in the Thames last week. We’ve concluded that she is the latest victim of a killer who moves round the world picking exclusively on young savants. The murderer has claimed thirteen victims that we know about: one here; five in America; two in Australia; two in New Zealand, three on mainland Europe in Germany, Denmark, and France. That’s why we’re here. I’m briefing every youth camp around the world to warn you to be on your guard. This person will kill again unless we find them first.’
Horrified silence followed these words. How should we react when one of the people who should’ve sat among us had been murdered? Death had always seemed remote—a problem for the future—but now it had terrifyingly walked into the room.
‘We’re very sorry to bring you this bad news but it’s also why we are including the morning sessions this year.’ Paul picked up from where Victor had stopped. ‘We want to keep you safe. The
killer targets those who have not mastered their gift. The FBI profiler who dealt with the homicides in the US thinks that this is because it makes them easier to subdue and the killer is basically a coward. If you can fight back, he’ll leave you alone.’
Victor raised a hand, finger pointing for emphasis. ‘That’s not to suggest the victims are in any way to be blamed for what happened to them. Our intention is to reduce the likelihood you’ll be targeted. Unfortunately a person of this nature will always find someone he or she can overpower. Are there any questions?’
Zillions. I put my hand up, arm trembling.
‘Misty?’
‘Do you know anything about the killer—what he looks like?’
‘He or she,’ Victor corrected me. ‘We know very little. The profiler puts him—and she thinks it is more likely to be a him—at around thirty to fifty so not someone in this room. Uriel, can you explain what else we do know?’
Uriel stood up from leaning against the snooker table. ‘Some of you are aware that my speciality is forensics. I also have a gift for taking people and things back to the past. It works best with living subjects but I can draw some impressions from bodies. The strangest aspect of these murders is that there is no trace of the killer, or indeed how he or she kills. The last victim was dead before the body was dumped but the results read as if she spontaneously stopped living.’
‘So you don’t know anything?’ asked Finn, sounding aggressive because he, like the rest of us, was scared.
‘I didn’t say that. The absence of evidence is a trail. We can conclude that the killer is one of us, a savant, and their gift is for just this: wiping out any physical or savant-detectable signs of his or her presence. We can also conclude that the means of murder is part of that gift—a cancelling, if you like, of life.’
‘Geez,’ murmured Angel, rubbing her arms. ‘That’s really creepy.’
‘It is,’ agreed Uriel. ‘There’s a team working hard on tracking down this killer but we are determined to prevent another death. In addition to learning how to handle your gifts, you’ll also be taught some basic personal security measures and how to raise the alarm if you are in a situation where you have reason to suspect the person.’
Misty Falls Page 8