Misty Falls

by Joss Stirling

  ‘I’m doing AS geography, Mr Davis, not living in a fantasy world.’ I held my bag to my chest, debating if I should just abandon my book. My eyes flicked to the door. I hated the idea that he’d been spying on us in our first fragile moments of being a couple.

  ‘Now then, no need to hurry away. I’ve spent days trying to talk to you and Alex. Don’t spoil it now I’ve got you alone for a few minutes.’

  Alex, don’t come in here. That journalist has cornered me. Warn Uriel.

  His reply zinged back like a boomerang. You are joking, right? I’m not leaving you on your own with him.

  A little beeping alarm went off. Davis pulled a device from his pocket, about the same size as a phone. ‘Interesting. You’re doing telepathy.’

  ‘That’s … ’ I was desperate to deny it but I couldn’t. I took a step towards the door but he slid into the gangway, blocking me in my study cubicle. ‘ … None of your business.’

  He turned his device round so I could see the display. It showed an image like a bar chart. ‘I’ve had this tuned to measure psychic activity. Telepathy sends the levels way past normal and sets off the alarm. It almost got me thrown out of that first debate. I guessed your boy was cheating somehow, being in communication with someone outside the room. Was he talking to you?’

  No, that had been Angel tweeting me. ‘You’re wrong. Alex doesn’t cheat when debating.’

  ‘But you don’t say he doesn’t use telepathy.’ He gave me a long look, trying to guess my secrets. ‘Now that I find fascinating as everyone else I’ve approached on this issue always denies it.’

  That’s because everyone else can lie. ‘I don’t even know what psychic energy is so how do I know if your device works?’ No one knew exactly how our powers functioned.

  ‘I would very much enjoy sharing that with you, young lady, but first I need some answers of my own.’

  I heard feet running up the stairs and then the door crashed open.

  ‘Ah, Alex! So delighted you could join us.’

  He has a machine that detects telepathy.

  The device beeped again.

  ‘A little predictable. I suppose she was telling you about this?’ Davis held up his sensor. ‘I call it a savant detector. That’s what you guys call yourselves, don’t you? The knowledgeable ones; rather big-headed, wouldn’t you say?’

  Alex couldn’t reach me the normal way because Davis was blocking me in. He vaulted the study cubicle and put himself between the journalist and me.

  ‘Are you OK, bokkie?’ He put his arm around me.

  ‘I’ve had better study sessions.’ I dipped my head against his chest, before pulling away. I felt we should keep our full attention on what Davis was doing.

  ‘Alex, I hope you forgive me cornering you like this, but you are a very difficult person to get in to see.’ The journalist had the intent expression of a hunting dog scenting prey. His gaze was fixed between my soulfinder’s shoulder blades.

  Alex didn’t even turn round to face Davis, his eyes still on me as if I were the only one in his world.

  ‘It’s rare to find a young savant unguarded these days. I’ve had immense problems following up my leads.’

  Did you tell Uriel? I asked.

  The machine beeped.

  Yes. He’s on his way.

  ‘Now that’s just rude, talking behind my back. Though I suppose it’s standard for savants.’ That was rich: Davis sounded aggrieved when it was he who was pushing himself upon us! ‘Exactly what my investigation is about: the abuse of power by a subgroup in society. You move among us without declaring your presence, manipulate the public so they don’t even notice, swing competitions, elections, promotions in your favour. You name it: your side does it. Someone has to bring your behaviour out into the open.’

  ‘Why?’ Alex asked coolly, though I could sense the tension inside him. With me in the room, he couldn’t persuade Davis out of his dangerous investigation, but he sounded more calm than I was about this interrogation.

  ‘Why? Because you are undermining democracy, of course! I just heard you very eloquently demolish democracy as a form of government, arguing instead for the rule of a benevolent and well-informed elite.’

  Alex turned. ‘Is that what this is about? You mustn’t mix up debating positions with the truth, Mr Davis. I believe democracy is the best of the imperfect forms of governing available but if I had said that we’d be out of the competition. I don’t think you get the point of a contest like this if you think we all believe what we say.’

  But Davis wasn’t open to reason. ‘I had my doubts before today. It goes far beyond you, boy. The last election was manipulated by your secret society to put their man in the White House. His career will be over when I reveal him for who he really is.’

  I had never heard that the president of America was a savant. We tended to go for low-profile jobs to avoid this kind of accusation and that was the opposite of obscure.

  Alex injected a tone of derision into his voice. ‘Help me out here, Mr Davis—what exactly is the connection between me and your president? I’ve never met the guy.’

  ‘He started his career with a win in this competition, as you well know.’

  ‘What? Thirty-five years ago? And that makes him one of these mind-manipulators, does it?’ From the snap in his voice, I could tell Alex was afraid—for me rather than himself. He was stalling to give Uriel time to reach us.

  ‘It certainly does! This extraordinary gift for manipulation is like the mark of Cain, passed down through the generations.’

  A muscle ticked in Alex’s jaw; fury mixed with his anxiety but he was keeping tight control on his temper. ‘And the fact that there’s this mark, as you call it, gives you the right to creep up on sixteen-year-old girls doing their homework assignment to try to scare a confession out of them?’

  Davis gave a contemptuous laugh. ‘She’s one of you too. I doubt I could scare her if I came at her with an axe!’

  ‘No, believe me, that would scare me,’ I said, shuddering.

  ‘Don’t kid yourself, miss. You’d just do that weird stuff you all do with your mind—take it from my hand with telepathy.’

  ‘You mean, like this?’ Uriel emerged from the shadow and flicked a finger. The detector flew out of the reporter’s grasp and into his hand. He passed his fingers over it, reading it with his gift. ‘I see you took one of Dr Surecross’s inventions when you interviewed him and adapted it. Does he know that it’s missing?’ Alex, get Misty away from him.

  Davis backed away, clearly much more terrified of Uriel than he was of either Alex or me. ‘Now just you stop there—don’t take another step near me!’ The way to the exit was now clear.

  Under orders from Uriel to get me away, Alex tugged my hand. ‘Let’s go.’

  ‘He’s got my text book,’ I whispered.

  Alex snatched the book from Davis’ limp hand.

  ‘Is that what you did? You just happened to find the detector in your possession when you left his office, like you did that book?’ asked Uriel. There was a hardness to his tone that I hadn’t heard from him before. ‘I think you should come along with me and answer some questions.’

  Davis opened his mouth to protest.

  ‘Unless you want me to call the police? They’d be very interested to discover the theft and trespass.’ Uriel folded his arms. ‘This school takes a dim view of strange men approaching their female students. I’m sure your employers at the newspaper wouldn’t approve.’

  Davis wrung his hands nervously. ‘I’ll come with you if you promise you’ll not harm me in any way—that includes using any of your powers.’

  ‘Fine.’ Uriel swept his arm towards the door. ‘You go first. I’ll be right behind you.’

  Davis scurried out.

  Uriel approached me. ‘You OK, Misty?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Uriel brushed my shoulder. ‘Did he say anything about the other savants who have been abducted?’

  ‘No, he didn’t men
tion that.’

  Alex rubbed my upper arm comfortingly. ‘He was going on about corruption and our secret society putting our man in the White House—standard conspiracy-theory stuff.’

  ‘Thanks. I’ll take it from here. Alex, make sure Misty gets back to her room OK and I’ll ask Tarryn to find you. I don’t want you walking back to your hotel alone.’

  I swallowed. ‘Should you be alone with him? He feels dangerous.’

  Uriel gave me a direct look, revealing the steel core under the approachable exterior. ‘I’m a Benedict, Misty. That makes me the most dangerous man in the room, trust me.’ He left.

  ‘That was scary.’ I was shaking.

  Alex hugged me closer, offering his warmth to my chilled skin. ‘Terrifying. I couldn’t get here fast enough. I don’t think I’ve ever been so afraid.’

  ‘I didn’t feel threatened—not personally. He’s focused on you. I think he sees you as a seedling president being grown for high office by us wicked savants.’

  Alex smiled sourly at the image. ‘But he knows I’m linked to you—that makes you a target too.’ He picked up my bag and tucked the text book inside. ‘Let’s go back to your room. I don’t like this place.’

  I scanned the dark spaces between high shelves. ‘Neither do I—not at night.’

  We made our way across the school quadrangle to the accommodation block. The door to my part was protected by a punch-button code. Wanting to lighten the mood, I stood back.

  ‘Go on. Do your thing.’

  He tapped my forehead. ‘You forgotten the code?’

  ‘No, I just like watching you at work.’

  Chuckling, Alex waved me to stand further back.

  ‘By the way, what’s bokkie?’ I asked.

  ‘Did I say that?’ Alex smiled ruefully.

  ‘Yep. In the library.’

  ‘It means a little deer, but also means sweetheart.’

  I grinned. Sometimes I didn’t mind my gift.

  Embarrassed, Alex turned away and wiggled his fingers over the control. The door clicked open.

  ‘Was that finger movement necessary?’ I asked, copying the motions with mine. No wonder Davis suspected spells were involved.

  He caught my hands in his and kissed the tips of my nails. ‘No, but I wanted to give you something to appreciate.’

  ‘Oh, I do appreciate you—all the time. You are one big walking “like” button, Alex du Plessis.’

  He laughed. ‘That sounds really funny. Does it mean you want to press me all the time too?’

  ‘Yes, please.’ I pretended to click his shirt button. ‘But not share on other pages.’

  ‘Jealous, are you?’

  ‘Yep.’

  ‘And so am I. Come on, show me where you live before I get chucked out by whoever patrols your corridors.’

  I led him up the stairs to my room on the second floor. We passed a few of my fellow boarders. They gawped at Alex—not only was I breaking the rules, he was very gawp-worthy, so I couldn’t blame them.

  I opened the door to my room to let Alex go first. ‘Here’s my den.’

  He stopped on the threshold. ‘Misty, are you normally this messy?’

  ‘I’m not messy!’ I peered round his shoulder. ‘Oh God.’ Feeling overwhelmed, I clung to his arm.

  My belongings were scattered everywhere—drawers upturned, wardrobe emptied, bags, purses and files tipped out. I tried to go in but Alex barred the door with his arms.

  ‘Don’t. Uriel needs to see this. The police too, I guess. You shouldn’t disturb anything.’

  I felt sick: it was like it had been done to me, not just my room. My private things were strewn about in full view—underwear, toiletries, photos, letters, mementoes. ‘But who would do this? What’s the point? I’ve nothing of value, no secrets.’

  Really?

  Apart from that.

  And that is what it’s about, I guess.

  Hafsa came to find out why we were still standing in the corridor. ‘Everything OK?’

  I made space to show her the room. ‘No, it really isn’t.’ My voice broke in a sob. Alex rubbed my neck in sympathy.

  ‘Misty, someone’s broken in!’ she said, like I hadn’t worked it out myself. ‘Shall I get Mrs Huddleston?’

  I glanced up at Alex. He nodded. This couldn’t remain a savant-only matter.

  ‘Thanks. She’ll want to call the police.’

  Hafsa pointed to her room down the corridor. ‘Look, you can wait in there—I’ll just phone and report this.’

  ‘Thanks. I’d appreciate it.’

  I closed the door to my room and took Alex along the corridor to Hafsa’s bedroom. She had decorated her walls with posters of her favourite great authors—F. Scott Fitzgerald, Virginia Woolf and Maya Angelou (she has highbrow tastes). My walls by contrast had been a collage of my favourite actors from current film and TV shows and a slim collection of poetry books. I also had some personal touches, such as the picture of our family at Diamond and Trace’s wedding in Venice. From what I’d seen in my glimpse of the interior, all of these were now in a smashed and tattered heap on the carpet.

  ‘I don’t understand. Why me? Do you think it was Davis?’ I chafed my upper arms. I could imagine him crawling around in there like a cockroach but it seemed unlikely he would go unnoticed by my friends, who were in and out of their rooms the whole time.

  Alex had a distant expression. He was talking to someone telepathically—Uriel I guessed. ‘Uri wants to know when you were last in your room.’

  ‘Until about seven. I picked up my geography books after supper.’

  ‘If Davis is to be believed, he was in the debate then. I didn’t pay much attention to the audience. Maybe Miss Coetzee did.’

  ‘I’d prefer it to be him—at least I can put a face to the intruder. Surely there can’t be two people creeping around the school?’

  ‘He could’ve been lying about hearing my speech.’

  ‘He wasn’t, not that I could sense, but he might not have stayed for the whole debate so maybe he told us only half the truth.’

  Alex relayed this to Uriel. ‘He says to tell you that Victor Benedict is on his way but he’ll be a few hours as he’s in France. Uriel wants his brother to interrogate Davis.’

  ‘Good idea. No one gets anything past Victor.’

  ‘He has asked Tarryn to help you deal with the police and the staff. Then he suggests you stay with us at our hotel. Now you’ve been targeted, I don’t want you alone here.’

  I grimaced. ‘Mrs Huddleston might not like the idea.’

  ‘It’s OK. I can be very persuasive.’

  Tonight, I thought that was an entirely justified use of his gift. ‘Go for it. She’s a stickler for the rules. So without her permission, I’d have to stay here—and I know I wouldn’t sleep.’

  ‘Misty, before they come, just let me say how sorry I am.’ He moved over to Hafsa’s desk and picked up a book and put it down again, restlessness revealing his deep unease. ‘I think it’s my fault this has happened. Someone has found out about me and that’s led them to you.’ His eyes were filled with anguished guilt.

  I put my arms round his waist to stop him prowling. ‘Don’t be silly; it’s not your fault—and not mine. We’re in this together.’

  ‘Thanks, bokkie.’ He brushed a light kiss on my lips.

  ‘You’re welcome, Alex.’

  Our eyes met, his laser-blue and seeming to dip right inside me. At least there was one silver lining: I was facing this with a soulfinder by my side.

  The police found no fingerprints in my room, at least none belonging to a stranger.

  ‘Gloves,’ said the crime-scene processor. ‘Most burglars know to wear them. And in a school like this it will be almost impossible to isolate any foreign DNA samples from your intruder. I suppose you’re certain it wasn’t one of your fellow students?’ The local police made no secret of the fact that they were hoping to tag this an inside job, student prank that had gone wrong. A phone call
from Victor Benedict had stopped them dismissing it without even turning up to look, but the officer dusting surfaces for prints did make me feel as if I were wasting her valuable time.

  She stood up and repacked her bag. ‘Nope, nothing. Your room is as clean as a whistle—apart from the mess.’

  That reminded me of the killer’s victims, who seemed to have died from no cause, and a murderer who left no trace. If she’d meant to be reassuring, she hadn’t succeeded.

  When she left, I locked the door from the outside, in no fit state to put the chaos straight. I promised myself I’d do it in the morning. I looked down the corridor. Tarryn and Alex were talking to Mrs Huddleston in the doorway to Hafsa’s room. From the benign, enraptured expression on my form tutor’s face, Alex’s gift was in full flood. I waited where I was until he gave the signal that it was safe to join them.

  He looked across at me and held out a hand.

  ‘So you’ll go with your friends tonight,’ Mrs Huddleston announced as I approached, sounding for all the world as if it were her idea. ‘I’ll help you sort out your room tomorrow in the daylight.’ She glanced up at the corner of the staircase. ‘We really must see about getting CCTV installed in here. That would put off any would-be thieves.’

  I suspected that ghost-intruders such as the one who turned over my room were too clever to register on digital either. I just wanted to get out of here. I had retrieved my wash bag and a change of clothes so I was desperate to go.

  ‘Can we leave now, please?’

  ‘Make sure she’s back in time for registration at eight thirty,’ Mrs Huddleston instructed Tarryn.

  ‘Yes, of course.’ Tarryn smiled reassuringly. ‘Thank you, Maureen.’

  We left by the night gate, emerging on to the Trumpington Road. Only a few cars passed as we walked to the city centre. Cambridge was alive with the rustle of leaves, a sound usually drowned out by human activity. It reminded me that we were surrounded by miles of flat countryside, seen from space as just a blip in the fields and fens of Cambridgeshire. I felt very exposed, prey trapped in the gaze of a hawk.