Darke Academy 3: Divided Souls

by Gabriella Poole

  Instead, she was tailing her erstwhile best friend through the streets and alleys of Sultanahmet, and it was no mean task. Without her Few senses she’d have lost her long ago, but despite all the scents and sounds of the city, Cassie could still smell Isabella’s distinctive perfume – and even the scent of her skin – tracking her without difficulty even when she lost sight of her.

  Isabella didn’t stop even for the glossiest of shops, the most enchanting of silks or jewels or carpets. It was so unlike her, Cassie was more than ever convinced she was headling for a rendezvous with Jake. The Grand Bazaar? The Argentinian girl seemed to be heading that way, through Beyazit, and for all her remarks about a tourist trap, it would be the ideal place for a secret meeting.

  Yes. Cassie dodged round jewellery stalls and kofte vendors in time to see Isabella disappear into one of the southern entrances. She darted after her, no longer afraid of being seen. She was confident now that she could stay close to her quarry till she reached her rendezvous.

  It was an unpleasant surprise, then, when Isabella simply walked briskly through the covered streets, ignoring all the shops, and back out of the western entrance.

  When Isabella stopped and pulled out her phone, Cassie swore to herself and pulled back, turning swiftly to a vendor selling roasted sweetcorn. A heartbeat later, Isabella was walking on. Once more Cassie followed, beginning to feel a deep degree of stupid.

  Isabella didn’t go much farther, though: only as far as the shady trees and canopies of the Book Bazaar. Here she seemed to hesitate, then found her bearings again and hurried down a paved lane crammed with bookstalls. After a while, she stopped quite deliberately, and spoke to a stallholder.

  Cassie ducked into another little shop, half hiding behind a rack of maps and pamphlets. What was going on? There was no sign of Jake, but Isabella was handing the bookseller an envelope, and he was opening it to flick through what was inside.

  Notes. Money. Cassie was sure of it.

  The bookseller reached down below his counter, drawing something out. As he handed it to Isabella, Cassie craned dangerously far out from her hiding place, desperate to see it. But it was too small, and too far away. As Isabella smiled and turned abruptly, Cassie ducked back behind the rack, not breathing, focusing intently on an antique map of Turkey.

  Her former roommate strode back determinedly the way she had come, passing quite close to Cassie but – thank heavens – failing to glance to her right. Cassie felt the thrashing of her heart begin to subside, and she took a few deep breaths. She was as sure as she could be that Isabella’s rendezvous was over, that that had been it.

  What had been it? Slowly Cassie followed Isabella back through the Grand Bazaar, at a greater distance this time. The girl was in less of a hurry now, browsing idly for scarves and kilims and brooches, stopping to buy herself a small bag of pistachios, then bartering for a slender gold bracelet. But there was little doubt she was heading back to the pier and the boat, and when she turned down the lane to the waterside, Cassie at last gave up the chase.

  There didn’t seem much point in risking getting caught on the same boat as Isabella this time. She would hang back and wait for the next one: no way was she pushing her luck any further. Lingering in the narrow lane, back against the old stone, she wondered what on earth to do next. She had a good bit of time to kill till the Academy ferry returned.

  What had been the point? She’d thought she was on to something, thought she would solve at least one of the wretched mysteries that were dogging her, but she’d wasted her time, wasted half the energy she’d drained out of Perry. She’d lost her chance to make it up with Isabella; instead she’d spied on her like a thief. And she’d also failed to find Jake, and so was no closer to finding out where Ranjit was. Or what had happened to him. Adrenalin seeped out of her like water out of a sponge. She was empty, drained and miserable.

  Maybe that was why, very suddenly, she knew the tables had turned on her.

  Someone’s watching us!

  Yes.

  Cassie went absolutely still. Estelle was right. She’d felt that strong sense before, that knowledge that she was being watched. Before, when they’d been in Cukurcuma! Taking a moment to psyche herself up, she drew a deep breath, then spun on her heel.

  A small movement; barely enough to be seen, but someone had ducked behind that high building at the end of the alleyway. Cassie narrowed her eyes, then sprinted back, flinging herself round the corner.

  Nothing. No one.

  She stopped, breathing hard, uncertain. Had there been anyone, or was it nothing but her overactive imagination again?

  Oh, stop lying to yourself, dearest! You know when you’re being watched. You know as well as I do.

  ‘Estelle,’ she murmured. ‘Estelle, was it him? Was it Ranjit?’

  For seconds Estelle was silent, as if Cassie had taken her by surprise.

  Dear oh dear, Cassandra. You mustn’t maintain this state of denial. Of course it wasn’t him!

  Cassie was aware of the stares she was attracting – standing here talking to herself like a madwoman – but she was annoyed enough to snap at Estelle. ‘How would you know?’ she hissed.

  We had a history, his spirit and I, long before you joined our little soirée …

  ‘Well, I’ve felt this before. I’ve been followed, by Ranjit, and I know what his eyes … h-his eyes watching me feels like!’ She took several deep breaths, desperate tears stinging her eyes. Yet the spirit was unrelenting.

  Ha! You think I don’t? You’re wrong, my dear. You’re believing what you want to believe.

  Angrily Cassie shook her off. Was it wishful thinking, to imagine Ranjit was tailing her footsteps, silent for some unfathomable reason but unable to leave her alone? It seemed so absurdly unlikely, after all.

  But that was how it had felt the last time. It was the same strong tingle of fearful anticipation she’d felt when Ranjit had stalked her through the corridors of a Paris mansion. She’d been so sure, when she turned that corner, she’d see those roiling, gold-glowing, animal eyes. To be so hopeful – and then so mistaken – was a bitter blow to her heart. And it came on top of the horrible realisation that she was so very lonely, that she missed Isabella like crazy.

  OK, she had to calm down. So she was either getting paranoid and developing a persecution complex, or someone sinister really was following her. Neither option boded well for her social life – or her life in general. Whichever it was, she’d better keep her strength up …

  A kofte vendor on the pavement beside her was eyeing her with visible nerves. Cassie shook herself, and managed a strained smile. She was unexpectedly hungry: that unassuageable hunger that meant she hadn’t fed enough, or had used up too much energy. Kofte would be the most temporary of stopgaps, but she bought one anyway, stuffed with roasted peppers between chunks of oily bread. She bit into it with such ferocity that the stallholder flinched and pretended to look the other way.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  It wasn’t as if Latin was her favourite or her best subject. It had waited all these centuries; it could manage another ninety minutes without her. Cassie wasn’t willing to wait another single one, let alone an interminable double period of bloody Virgil. Yusuf and Mikhail were dead, and Ranjit might be next. He might already— No! She refused even to contemplate the possibility. But with still no word from him, Cassie was now adamant that it was time to take the initiative.

  There was only one place to start looking. Cassie went straight to Ranjit’s room, half hoping that it would be empty and that she’d have peace to prowl, but it wasn’t to be. When the door began to open to her knock, her breath caught in her throat and her heart leaped – irrational as it was, she couldn’t help hoping against hope that she’d see Ranjit’s face – but it was Torvald again.

  ‘Cassie.’ He eyed her, puzzled, but his overriding expression was one of anxiety.

  ‘Sorry to disturb you—’ she began, her words tumbling out.

  Torvald held
up his hand to stop her. ‘Don’t worry about it. Still nothing, I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you’ve …?’

  Cassie shook her head, her brow furrowed. Torvald stepped back, gesturing. ‘Look, why don’t you come in? No point standing out here.’

  She nodded. As he followed her in and shut the door, Torvald said, ‘He hasn’t been around for ages.’

  ‘I don’t get it. I mean, he’d tell you if he had to go away, wouldn’t he?’

  ‘Usually.’ He shrugged.

  Cassie swallowed. ‘Well … I mean, of course he’s always kind of been a law unto himself, right? Maybe we’re worrying too much …’

  ‘Yes, but he’s never been away for so long,’ pointed out Torvald. ‘And he always told me when he’d be back.’

  I’ll bet he did, thought Cassie dryly. Hungry after an absence, poor lad.

  ‘Have you talked to Sir Alric?’

  ‘I’ve tried. Didn’t get any joy out of him. He’s aware of the situation, that’s all he would say.’

  Cassie turned a slow circle, studying the boys’ room, opulent as ever. They even had a flat-screen TV. Torvald certainly got good perks for feeding Ranjit. She wondered if he knew.

  Maybe her nosiness was a bit blatant, because he said rather pointedly, ‘There might be a clue here that I’m missing. Do you want to check a few things?’

  She raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you looked through his stuff?’

  ‘Course I have. Nothing’s missing, not his passport, no clothes, not even his wallet. He’s just – kind of – evaporated.’

  ‘His emails? Anything like that?’ Cassie was wandering round the room now, touching things. Something was making her deeply uneasy. It was as if she could feel his presence … and something else too, fainter though. Something familiar, or someone she knew? That something or someone had been here and she could feel its former presence like a ghost. A ghost she could smell and touch. What it reminded her of most was …

  The Knife.

  That was it. She had a connection to that strange Few artefact, with its bizarre inward life. When it was close, it spoke to her like a voice. Well, this was the same sort of feeling. It had been in here at some point, she was almost certain of it.

  And it wouldn’t have got there all by itself. Could Jake have—?

  ‘What are you thinking?’ Torvald’s voice broke into her thoughts.

  ‘Nothing.’ Nothing you’d want to know, anyway. Cassie turned to face him. ‘Where’s Ranjit’s laptop?’

  ‘There.’ Torvald pulled out a drawer and retrieved it, setting it reverently on the desktop. ‘I don’t know his password, obviously. Same with the voicemails on the room’s phone system. I can’t access them.’

  ‘Let me try.’ She booted up the laptop, hesitated with her fingers on the keys.

  ranjitsingh

  Incorrect password

  ranjit1

  Incorrect password

  darkeacademy

  Too obvious, anyway. She tapped her fingernails on the edge of the laptop.

  No, it couldn’t be.

  Maybe?

  cassandra

  Welcome Ranjit

  Behind her, Torvald coughed. Cassie stepped back, beating back a rush of conflicting emotions, then bent down to the keyboard again.

  There was nothing sinister that she could see: nothing, but the fact that no emails had been downloaded in ages. With a horrible sense of dread, Cassie watched the list of unread emails grow like a black spell, creeping down the screen. Two from his mother. One from his academic counsellor. Amazon, iTunes, play.com, the usual suspects. Fifteen, twenty … She didn’t know he subscribed to popbitch.com, she thought with a small reluctant smile. More emails piled in: another from his mother, now one from his father. His brothers, an email from each.

  She pushed back the chair as the list finally stopped. ‘Nothing,’ she said, though she had a feeling it was anything but. ‘I’ll try his voicemail.’

  It was the same story. Luckily, it was the same password: guilt clenched her stomach. Had he really pined for her as much as Torvald claimed? Unwilling to believe she had found nothing, she sat back down at the laptop and opened a list of his documents in a separate window.

  ‘So what do you think?’ Torvald sounded impatient.

  ‘Hang on.’ Increasingly frustrated and desperate, she scrolled down the document list. There were so many; should she open every single one? Even if it all looked like innocent homework, there could be useful information disguised behind an inane document name …

  Something caught her eye. She scrolled back up to it.

  Found Items

  Not so mysterious, as names went. But it was password protected.

  She tried again.

  cassandra

  No …

  She chewed on a nail. Well, it was worth a try. She typed in her birth date.

  Bingo!

  Torvald was leaning over her shoulder, tense with interest, as the PDF of a scanned document loaded. Some kind of manuscript, pages and pages of it. ‘What is that? It looks ancient,’ he said, his voice tight, curious.

  Cassie took a breath. ‘Yeah it does, doesn’t it? Could be a fake, of course. Something he found on the net …’

  She was talking nonsense, and she knew it. This was an old document and she knew immediately it was something important. The faded writing was antiquated, but she could just about make it out – and not just that: there were symbols, designs, ancient script similar to images she’d seen before. And one image in particular that she’d seen everywhere from New York Public Library to the Arc de Triomphe to the broken version on her own shoulder blade …

  She knew one thing: she did not want Torvald peering over her shoulder while she deciphered the document. Swiftly she clicked the print button and closed the window.

  ‘But what was it?’ He stepped back, disappointed and a little annoyed.

  ‘I … I dunno, really. It might be something or nothing. I’ll take a copy and check it out, OK? I, ah … have a class now,’ she lied.

  He scowled. ‘All right. I get the message: this is Few stuff, right?’ He stopped for a moment, relenting. ‘Look. You promise me you’ll let me know if you find anything?’ He hesitated. ‘I miss him too, you know.’

  ‘Course I will.’ Forcing what she hoped was an unconcerned smile, she closed the document and rolled up the printout, keeping it well away from his curious gaze. ‘As soon as I know anything. But let’s not get our hopes up yet, eh?’

  She was afraid he was going to delay her further, but he didn’t. Once outside Ranjit’s room, with the door shut firmly behind her, she ran for her own. It was time to try and figure out what the hell was going on.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  As Cassie got back and closed the door behind her, she took a deep breath and pulled out her desk chair. Placing the printout pages on the smooth wooden desktop, she sat down and shuffled quickly through them, desperate for some clues. The pages were blurred in some places, indecipherable in parts, but she was getting the gist of them just fine. Sitting in the too-quiet room, Cassie could hear the blood rushing in her ears as she ran her forefinger across the heading of the topmost page.

  Powers and Nature of the Eldest Few

  The Eldest Few. Just the name made her shiver with a sensation that was all Few instinct. It seemed that the very first Few was, according to this document, the most evil of creatures, and as those who succeeded him grew in number, his power had got out of control.

  He was apparently the one who created the Knife. With the tip of her finger Cassie traced the picture on the page: the blade, the elaborate handle, the mythical creatures that writhed around it. She involuntarily grimaced, remembering the real thing. Many seemed to hate or fear that blade, but Cassie couldn’t bring herself to feel anything but fascination. It was beautiful, and alive, and lethal. Why did she feel such an attraction to it, and what did that say about her?

  Something else about the Knife grabbed her attention, and
her breath caught in her throat. According to the manuscript, it had a special purpose. The Knife was the only thing able to sever the link between Spirit and Host …

  Only this Knife, or Death itself

  may break the Bond

  Cassie was stunned. This was the answer she had been looking for at the start of last term, when she’d been so desperate to find a way to get Estelle’s spirit out of her for good. She wasn’t sure how to feel about the discovery that the means may have been right under her nose that whole time.

  No, Cassandra, let us not think back to that dark time. We’re together now, we are strong …

  There was a distinct edge of nerves to Estelle’s voice, but Cassie’s growing astonishment was drowning her out at the moment.

  Because it seemed that the Eldest had created more than just the Knife.

  Rubbing her forehead, trying to shift the headache she could not afford right now, Cassie squinted at the text, reading and re-reading the details of the other artefacts – a Pendant and an Urn.

  There was something eerily familiar about the pictures of both, as though they’d been formed from the same stuff as the Knife. She touched the scanned engraving of the Pendant. It was carved out of jade, the manuscript told her, but it was like no other piece of jewellery she’d ever seen. As with the Knife, it was carved with twisting, snarling beasts: there they were, the familiar cats and mermaids and caryatids, and the less recognisable creatures she had never been able to name.

  The Pendant may, for a spell of time,

  be used to draw the Spirit from its Host.

  Which sounded uncomfortably like what Cassie thought of as her ‘broken’ powers – part of Estelle’s spirit being locked outside of her, able to invisibly manifest itself in the inexplicable ability she had to control and move and manipulate with her mind alone …

  And the Urn. As she read the words again, Cassie felt her eyes so wide with amazement that they hurt, and she had to blink hard as she studied the scans of the perfectly inked text.

  The Urn may contain and preserve a

  Spirit indefinitely.