Darke Academy 2: Blood Ties

by Gabriella Poole

  ‘Episode?’ Cassie stalled.

  ‘Tch! Don’t waste our time. The incident at Carnegie Hall.’

  Hoping for some moral support, Cassie sought out Sir Alric, but he wasn’t even looking at her. He was studying one of the tapestries, as if none of this was anything to do with him. Again she felt a bitter stab of betrayal.

  ‘I don’t know what happened,’ she said curtly.

  ‘Really?’ The voice held a cold undercurrent of mockery. ‘Perhaps you mean you don’t know what happened apart from a public loss of control, a display that endangered the very existence of the Few, and a near-fatal attack on a fellow member?’ Brigitte glanced sneeringly at Sir Alric, but he didn’t react. Cassie was beginning to loathe him. ‘Yes, I can quite see how that might slip what passes for your mind.’

  ‘I meant,’ said Cassie through her teeth, ‘I don’t know how it happened. It wasn’t intentional.’

  ‘As I said, a complete loss of control.’ Brigitte sighed, and turned to her fellow Elders. ‘Our fears regarding this member have very much come to pass. You will all remember that the Bell girl was mooted as a potential host late last year. The proposal was vetoed with, as it turns out, extremely good reason. She is not and never has been Few material. Had it not been for an appalling breach of Few law, she would now be perfectly adequate feeding material. No more.’

  The man beside Brigitte leaned forward into the light, and Cassie saw steel-blue eyes, cropped hair, a distinctive cleft in his chin. She took a silent gasp of breath, as if she’d been punched in the gut. That face: she’d only seen it for a second, but she wouldn’t forget it. It was one of the FBI men who had come to the Academy to arrest Jake.

  ‘The girl’s a danger to herself,’ he drawled. ‘And to the rest of us.’

  ‘She’s inexperienced, Vaughan, that’s all.’ Someone interrupted, and Cassie glanced gratefully at the black-haired woman. ‘Her initiation was irregular and she hasn’t been properly trained. That’s all. Give her a chance.’

  I will never, thought Cassie, never have a bad word to say about one of your movies again.

  ‘We could consider repeating the ceremony.’ That was the cabinet minister. ‘Has that ever been attempted?’

  ‘Of course not,’ snapped Vaughan. ‘It’s never been necessary. This is unprecedented.’

  ‘Then I suggest we set a precedent.’ The British man’s frigid tone suggested there was no love lost between him and the American man.

  ‘How?’ The senator shrugged. ‘Estelle Azzedine is dead and buried.’

  But her spirit’s alive and kicking!

  Cassie jumped at Estelle’s voice, but none of the Council seemed to notice. Brigitte narrowed her eyes, though.

  The film actress spoke again. ‘Put it this way, something went wrong. We don’t know what. But really, her case is quite fascinating. Shouldn’t we instead be looking to see how we can help? None of this is really Miss Bell’s fault, after all.’

  ‘That’s irrelevant,’ said another woman. ‘Fault isn’t at issue here. She’s clearly dangerous. We’re not here to give her group therapy so she can adjust – we need to deal with this matter swiftly and decisively.’

  ‘Let’s not be rash. Studying her … ability may well be of great significance for all of us.’ Perhaps that cabinet minister felt some national allegiance.

  ‘Whether that’s true or not, we can’t take the risk.’

  ‘But you’ll take the risk of punishing her? An innocent party?’

  ‘Hardly innocent.’

  ‘The Carnegie Hall incident was a disaster …’

  ‘No, the damage limitation worked. It’s been smoothed over. Donations in the right places.’

  ‘And next time? And the next?’

  ‘ENOUGH!’

  Brigitte’s cry echoed, easily drowning the quarrelling voices, and hush fell on the whole room. Cassie swallowed reflexively. Brigitte drew out the silence until the air crackled, and when she spoke again her voice was as soft and chilled as snow.

  ‘There can be no doubting the girl is dangerous. There can be no doubting she cannot control herself. We have responsibilities, ladies and gentlemen, not only to our fellow Few, but to the public at large. Kindly imagine the repercussions when she kills someone.’ Again she left a dramatic pause for her damning words to sink in. ‘She attacked a Few member, in full view of the public. She was also responsible, may I remind the Council, for an assault last term that left my own daughter brutally scarred. I propose we expel Miss Bell from the Academy …’

  ‘I second Brigitte.’

  Brigitte looked over at the FBI man with a hint of annoyance. ‘Thank you, Vaughan, but I have a further proposal to lay before this Council: that Miss Bell, for her own protection and ours, should be incarcerated indefinitely in the Confine.’

  Cassie leaped to her feet, her intake of breath splitting the horrible silence. What the hell was the Confine?

  ‘What do you—’

  ‘Please sit down, Miss Bell. You will not improve your situation by further demonstration of your inability to control yourself.’

  ‘But …’ Cassie looked desperately at the row of Elders. None would meet her eye, not even her erstwhile supporters. ‘You can’t put me in prison, it’s not—’

  ‘It is fair, just, and reasonable. The Confine is not a prison. Not in the way you understand the word.’ Brigitte gave a loud sigh. ‘Things could have been very much worse for you. Be grateful for the Council’s mercy.’ She raised a silver gavel. ‘Now, if the Council is unanimously agreed, I hereby—’

  ‘Wait.’

  Brigitte hesitated, her gavel hovering, her face darkening with anger. Cassie felt her breath sigh out of her in a great rush, and her muscles trembled. She slumped back into her seat.

  Sir Alric had spoken. At last.

  ‘Brigitte is right in one respect. We do not know what Cassandra is capable of. None of us do, and that includes me.’ Thoughtfully he turned a pen in his fingers, his unsmiling eyes meeting Cassie’s. ‘But may I respectfully suggest that this fact alone renders the Confine an unsuitable place to hold her.’

  ‘But—’ Vaughan had turned crimson.

  Sir Alric ignored the FBI man. ‘She would be best monitored in an environment where she is entirely under the supervision of experienced Few. Where her power can be measured and controlled, and if necessary turned to our advantage – rather than constrained and possibly warped against us. Where she can be taught the self-control she so clearly lacks. I propose to the Council that there is only one appropriate place to keep her.’ He paused and looked at each of the council members in turn. ‘At the Academy. Under my supervision and control. For the foreseeable future.’

  Murmurs rose from the Elders, but Cassie could make none of them out: only that some were angry and negative, some relieved and supportive. Her head was buzzing. Could the man have left his intervention any later? On the other hand, his timing had been mighty effective …

  But Brigitte wasn’t about to give up.

  ‘Ah, Sir Alric,’ she said, her voice dripping contempt. ‘Perhaps it is you who should be under supervision and control. It’s your responsibility to keep Academy students in line and out of the limelight. Something you seem to have singularly failed to do in this case.’

  Sir Alric smiled thinly, but Cassie could have sworn she saw sparks whirl in the depths of his eyes.

  ‘Until what happened at Carnegie Hall, none of us had any idea that Cassandra’s powers were so … unique. I can hardly be held responsible for failing to see a threat that escaped the wisdom of the whole Council. I have many talents, Brigitte, but the ability to predict the future is not one of them. My proposal stands.’

  Brigitte’s voice trembled with thwarted rage. ‘There are then two proposals before the Council. We shall put them to a vote.’

  Sir Alric’s face was impassive as they began to vote. Cassie couldn’t look at him, so she stared hard at the floor. Cowardly, maybe, but it was better than watch
ing the expressions on the faces of the Elders, trying to count the votes for and against her. By the time Marat had gathered the voting slips and they had been counted, and recounted – then counted a third time – Cassie was dizzy with suspense and fear.

  ‘By a majority of one …’ Brigitte halted.

  Cassie’s head snapped up to stare at her. The woman’s lips were tight, her teeth gritted.

  ‘By a majority of one, the Council has decreed that Cassandra Bell will return to the Darke Academy.’ She rapped her gavel so hard Cassie was amazed the table didn’t shatter.

  Marat was at her side. It was over. Getting to her feet, Cassie shot a grateful glance at Sir Alric, but once again he was ignoring her. There was nothing for it but to gather her dignity and follow Marat from the room in silence. There was no point trying to make conversation with the little brute. He looked more sullen than ever. Disappointed, maybe.

  It was only as the door closed behind them that she heard Brigitte’s voice rise once more, over-sweet and clipped, and, Cassie suspected, made clear enough for her to hear.

  ‘We move on to the next item of business.’ A rap of the gavel. ‘The Johnson boy.’

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  The Johnson boy …?

  Cassie stopped in her tracks as Marat moved ahead of her through the reading room. The place was still in near-darkness and the shelves were high to right and left.

  Jake.

  Glowering ahead, it must have taken Marat a while to register that her footsteps had stopped. He was ten metres away when he finally turned.

  For a moment they eyed each other warily. Marat took one step towards her.

  ‘I need to go to the toilet!’ yelped Cassie. Before Marat could react, she had turned and run into the shadows between the bookshelves. She had to get back to that room.

  One thing about being Few, she thought appreciatively: it made her fast. Fast, and nimble on her feet. Her heart pounded as she switched direction and darted between the shelves.

  In the deepest shadows, she paused. She could see Marat in between the stacks, searching for her. She hoped her own heartbeat wasn’t as loud as it sounded.

  Dodging through the bookshelves, she alternately crept and sprinted silently, retracing her steps in an elaborate circle. By the time she spotted a familiar sign to the Trustees’ Room, she couldn’t hear him any more. Holding her breath, she peered into every corner, but there was no further sign of Marat. Almost too easy …

  Breathing again, heart racing, she crept back towards the Council meeting room. She was pretty certain she’d lost him, and she doubted that the porter would rush to tell the Elders that he’d let her give him the slip: what kind of problems would that make for him? Hopefully he’d bank on her making her own way back to the Academy, since she didn’t have any other option.

  Cassie pressed her ear to the door, grateful all over again for the Few spirit and its effect on her hearing. She could clearly make out the raised voices of the Elders, and she’d made it in time to hear their decision. Only just, but thank God she had.

  ‘Silence for the decision!’ Brigitte’s voice again, coldly triumphant this time. ‘By a majority of seventeen, the Council decrees that Jake Johnson will be removed from Federal custody within the next twenty-four hours, and placed in the Confine.’

  What? Cassie couldn’t believe what she was hearing.

  ‘All business being completed and no further matters arising, I declare this Council of Elders closed.’ The sharp blow of that silver gavel set Cassie’s teeth on edge.

  Swiftly, she backed into the shadows, praying none of them would turn as they filed out. Just as well she’d had so much practice in staying unseen in darkened corridors back at Cranlake Crescent. None of the Elders noticed her pressed against the wall beyond the light of the sconces. Probably none of them ever imagined anyone would dare to eavesdrop on their fancy Council.

  It made her heart sink to her stomach, seeing them up close. Besides the Elders she had already recognised, there were more. People of power, people of influence. People she’d seen on the cover of news-stand magazines. Jesus, thought Cassie. If they ever turned against her as one …

  They’d turned against Jake. They were placing him in the Confine.

  Not a prison, Brigitte had said. Not in the way you understand.

  Oh, Cassie reckoned she understood fine.

  Not all of them had come out of the room. At least two were missing, and they were the two who really mustn’t see her. As Cassie forced herself to stay still, barely breathing, she heard Brigitte’s soft, snowflake voice.

  ‘So, Vaughan, the usual measures are in place?’

  ‘Everything is arranged. The boy will go to the Confine immediately. As far as the Council is concerned, that will be the end of the matter.’

  Cassie stopped breathing altogether. What did that mean, ‘As far as the Council is concerned’?

  ‘Good,’ said Brigitte. ‘And don’t worry – the system is foolproof. In all the years I have been in charge of the Confine, the Elders have never once bothered to check on their guests. I’ve taken dozens of them. It will be years before anyone realises the boy isn’t there – if they ever do.’

  ‘They’ll still be furious.’ Vaughan didn’t sound too worried; in fact, Cassie detected an undercurrent of laughter.

  ‘Perhaps. But no more than I am. My daughter’s attacker received a mere slap on the wrist tonight.’ Brigitte’s voice trembled with anger. ‘If the Singh boy hadn’t meddled, my daughter would have been successful in getting rid of the half-breed bitch herself, and neatly made it look like an accident to boot.’

  Cassie clamped her hand over her mouth to stop the gasp. The ‘accident’ at Grand Central Station. That had been Katerina? And now Jake’s certainty that it had been Katerina who had tried to abduct Isabella at Coney Island didn’t seem so ridiculous either. Could that have been Brigitte? The pair looked similar enough to be mistaken for each other at a distance.

  ‘You’ll bring the boy to the cottage tonight as usual? It’s been rather too long since the Living Soil was fed. Giving it that snitch of a boy will be some measure of vengeance for what those brats did to my Katerina.’ In a silky murmur she added, ‘Besides, I’ve been so good, Vaughan. I’m entitled to a treat …’

  Chills rippled down Cassie’s spine, so that she had to make an effort to stay absolutely still. The Living What?

  The Living Soil, Cassandra!

  Estelle’s voice held something strange. Was that disbelief? Excitement?

  Terror?

  ‘What is it, Estelle? What’s the Living Soil?’ Cassie whispered.

  Estelle’s voice was a throaty murmur:

  There are prisons far, far more evil than the Confine, my dear …

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Cassie didn’t bother with the lift. Bolting across the marble atrium of the Academy, ignoring the stares of other students, she tore off her gloves and scarf as she ran. Shoving through to the fire escape stairs, she took them two at a time. It was faster. At least, it was at the speed she could run. And she needed to run, to work off this terrible anger and fear.

  Ranjit’s room was on the fifth floor, but she reached it barely out of breath. That was Estelle again. She was beginning to know how much she relied on Estelle. How much she needed and appreciated that powerful presence.

  She didn’t bother to knock. When she burst in, Ranjit was just pulling off his shirt and the shower was running. In nothing but his designer jeans, he stared at her dumbfounded. His smile, when it came, was forced, trying to cover something else.

  ‘Well. This is unexpected but nice—’ He stopped short as soon as he saw Cassie’s furious expression.

  She took a ragged breath. ‘What happened to you?’

  ‘Your Council meeting. I know it was tonight—’

  ‘So where were you, Ranjit? I waited for you!’

  Screwing his expensive shirt into a ball, he twisted it between his fingers. His gaze dar
ted over her shoulder at the door, then back to her. ‘There was … Something came up – something that meant I couldn’t come, Cassie. I wanted to tell you, honestly I did, but if—’

  ‘Not good enough!’ She was too angry to cry. ‘You promised. You said you’d be there!’

  ‘And I wanted to, more than anything. Please, Cassie, you have to believe me. But I—’

  ‘I don’t want to hear it. I don’t want to hear what was more important, OK? I just want you to know,’ – she swallowed hard – ‘that you might not have seen me again.’

  Ranjit sank down on to the bed, shoving his hair out of his eyes as he stared up at her. The room was filling with steam, but he didn’t move to turn off the shower. When he spoke, his voice was shaky. ‘What happened?’

  ‘Ms Brigitte Svensson was in the chair,’ spat Cassie. ‘And I avoided the Confine by one vote.’

  ‘Cassie. Oh, God, Cassie. I didn’t know it was her. I wasn’t told … Listen—’

  ‘No! I don’t want to listen. You left me to face that alone. So now, you owe me some answers, Ranjit. The Confine – what is it?’

  ‘The Confine …’ He stood up, pacing the room. She couldn’t help watching, her gaze drawn to his damp, naked torso. Yesterday she’d have been leaping on him like a tiger. Yesterday she’d have eaten him alive, in a good way.

  But now she felt numbed by the leaden weight in her chest. ‘The Confine, Ranjit.’

  He half-glanced at her. ‘Didn’t they tell you?’

  ‘It sounded like a prison to me, but apparently my feeble understanding of a prison is not what this Confine is. So maybe you can explain it?’

  ‘It’s – listen, you don’t have to go there, right? Just try and put it out of your mind.’

  ‘I don’t have to go!’ she yelled, tears stinging her eyes. ‘But Jake does!’

  ‘Jake?’ Ranjit scraped his hands through his black hair, damp from the steam.

  ‘Yes, Jake! He’s been sentenced to the Confine. I heard them! I doubled back after they sent me out and I heard them!’

  ‘You eavesdropped? On the Council?’