OK, quit stalling, Meri.
Turning the key in the lock, she lifted the lid. As well as the expected letter there were some old photographs, Victorian by the looks of their age and styling. Shuffling through them, she didn’t like them one bit. Always a back view, the subjects, male and female, were stripped to the waist. Someone had traced their skin markings with black ink to make visible to the camera what her kind could see with the naked eye. She looked at the little notations on the reverse of the ones she recognized: turtle shell, warrior; leaf, cultivator; snowflake, domestic servant; panther, fighter; spiral, poet. But there was something very wrong with them. The people did not seem willing participants in this categorisation. She could see the muscles straining in the arms as they fought their restraints but they had been tied so tightly to a frame there was little or no give.
Putting them aside, she turned to the letter, hoping that would provide the answers. Once again, she came face to face with the curling script that belonged to one of her parents. She ran her finger over the paper, feeling the connection where they had once touched it. Her father, she guessed, as the writing seemed masculine somehow. As she remembered it, he had been the one to take the lead at home when it came to matters affecting their safety.
Darling daughter,
As we said in our first letter, we are sorry beyond words that we are not there to stand by your side as you face your enemies. I’m writing this in our house in California and trouble seems very distant. Seeing you today playing outside in the yard with your mother, hearing your laughter, it is hard to imagine such a future, that anyone could want to harm a child so bright and beautiful. Yet I write this knowing from bitter experience that such people exist. You would not be the first innocent they try to cut down, but the last in a very long line of Atlanteans who have lost their life to the Perilous.
Meri took a moment to study the first paragraph, noting how careful her father was not to mention her by name or give any details that would tip off someone who came across the letter. Looking quickly ahead, she could see no mention of Theo this time. If an enemy had broken in and stolen one of the boxes, they would only get half the information and not enough to locate her—a wise precaution considering what she now knew.
I don’t write this to frighten you needlessly but to instil a proportionate sense of danger in you. The fact that you are reading this tells me that they have indeed lived up to their reputation and removed us from your life. I imagine your mother and I went kicking and screaming—but undeniably we went.
So let us tell you about the Perilous. We have fought many battles with them over the centuries but we have to admit to having lost that long war. They live on gaining power and influence in the shadows and our people have dwindled to a handful, maybe to just a single person: you.
Originally the Perilous were our neighbours and shared the island with us. Our stories say we called them that because even then, long before we started writing such things down, our superior perception of the UV spectrum meant we saw how their skin would blush in the colour we had called ‘peril’. Our vision developed through generations of choosing mates with these skills, a physical trait the Perilous shared to a lesser extent. This is how we noticed that with those we called ‘the Perilous’ the source wasn’t a rush of blood to the skin, but unusual natural skin markings that absorbed UV from daylight and released it back in fighting or mating situations—what the Perilous called the blaze or flare up. These markings appealed to both peoples on an aesthetic level and over many centuries, partners were chosen for the Perilous to define and refine these characteristics.
The island society was highly stratified. Our kind, the Atlanteans, were the ruling class. Unfortunately, it amused some less enlightened of our leaders to use the markings to decide which professions the Perilous should go into, even if temperamentally they were not suited to that role. Eventually what started as a muddle-headed piece of social engineering became tradition and our two nations, Atlanteans and Perilous, settled to many centuries of coexistence, one ruling, one serving.
As you might imagine in an unfair society such as that of old Atlantis, there were attempts at rebellion from the Perilous but in those days we were much stronger than them. Our more developed sight meant we always knew in advance if it was a Perilous or an Atlantean who was confronting us. And we had one weapon they could not defend against, not while there were enough of us to protect ourselves. Like the Perilous we absorb ultraviolet light but at a much greater intensity. When deliberately turned on a Perilous it causes their markings to flare out. The result will be burns that can reach the worst, third degree of seriousness, resulting in death. One or two executions by this method in each rebellious generation was enough to keep the Perilous quiet. These are shameful episodes in our history but they demonstrate that you aren’t as powerless as you might think. A skill that was used to oppress a people might also be used as a last resort in self-defence.
Meri stared at her hands. No, that wouldn’t be something she would be trying even to save herself. It sounded beyond cruel.
Then the inevitable happened: in the aftermath of a natural disaster that destroyed our homeland and resulted in exile for the survivors, a rebellion took place. Rather than sue for peace, the two sides chose war and have been fighting ever since. From being oppressed, the Perilous have become our oppressors, killing on sight as they fear our powers to what is now an irrational degree. They never give us a chance to speak, never choose mercy when we are vulnerable. They believe that for them to live happily ever after we must be eradicated. There is no shifting them from that view despite the brave attempts of our diplomats of recent times to reach out to them. My parents were two of these peacemakers and lost their lives when they went to broker a treaty.
Our advice to you, therefore, is to avoid contact with the Perilous at all costs. Run if you must. Choose to live quietly. The full strength of Atlantean culture only lingers in your existence. Blend with the ordinary population and snatch a final victory by passing on some of your traits to a new generation.
Be happy. Prosper away from the cruel disputes of the past. Know that you are loved always.
Dad and Mom
P.S. I found these photographs in my father’s archive. I would prefer to destroy them but you might find them helpful in identifying your enemies.
Meri turned back to the pictures. Sickened, she saw now that it hadn’t been ink but burns that marked the skin of the subjects. Someone had released their power into the captives to a very deliberate degree to bring to the surface that which only Atlanteans normally could see. God, she could’ve done that by mistake to Kel when she had panicked yesterday. He’d had a narrow escape. She didn’t want to look but made herself go through the rest. So many kinds. It was like some perverted human butterfly collection: the photographer hadn’t stopped until he’d got a specimen of each. Meri didn’t want a copy of them, or even of this letter. She locked it all back in the box, like caging a savage beast back in a cage.
Her dad hadn’t spelt it out but she had understood his message. The Perilous had been the Atlanteans’ serfs, kept under because the masters had a deadly force at their fingertips. From having been intrigued and even a little proud of her Atlantean heritage, Meri now just felt disgusted. Just as well a disaster had wiped out the whole pack of them. They’d deserved it.
Pushing away from the table, Meri stood, head hung, at the window. A mother was pushing a child on one of the swings of the garden in the play area built in the centre of the square. The child was laughing, looking rosy-faced buttoned up in his Paddington duffle coat.
Something inside her softened. Thoughts of Atlanteans deserving their fate were unfair. Not everyone had been guilty. There were always innocents hurt in any war, any disaster: children, non-combatants, refugees. And did a blood tie mean Meri deserved to be hunted now? Of course not. But what responsibility did she bear for things that had been done long before her birth, in a world so ancient it was no more
than an archaeological trace? When did you stop having to say sorry for crimes others who might be distantly related to you had committed? Tired out by that conundrum, Meri rested her head against the windowpane and wished the swing of this mad world would stop and let her get off.
8
A clock ticked in the silence of the library while Kel wrestled with his conscience as to what to do about Meri. She had run, most likely because she had known exactly what she could expect from a household of Perilous once they unmasked her. It might well be best to let her go. The problem was that, now Ade thought she was one of them, he’d not leave it there. As a Tean—if she really was a Tean—she was dangerous and if Ade or anyone went after her unprepared they could get seriously hurt or killed. Kel had lost his mother to Teans so he knew it was no idle threat they posed. His friends had to know the truth.
But what then? Though the historic policy was to kill on sight, the Tean threat had dwindled to almost nothing over the last few years. As far as Kel could see, there was no need to make Meri into a big deal. Test his theory and then come to a special arrangement for her: that was the best way to handle it. The others would see sense surely? Make an exception for her? Even imagining killing someone outside self-defence just seemed so unreal; he couldn’t believe anyone he knew would take that step.
Burying his face in his hands, Kel ran through what he would say, the tone he would employ. This was an eighteen-year-old girl, not a Tean hit squad like those who killed his mother. No need to go off on a witch hunt. They should be gentle, make sure she posed no threat but basically leave her be.
Right. OK. Best get this done.
Kel found Ade in the kitchen chatting to Swanny over the toaster, his first port of call when he returned from school.
‘Uh-oh, someone’s in trouble,’ said Ade. ‘Swanny here was just telling me that you should be sent to bed with no supper for dissing him.’ The toast popped up and he moved quickly to spread the margarine while it was hot. ‘I told him it was just the hormone rush of flare out still working its way through your system. Am I right?’ He leant back against the counter and took a bite out of his toast.
‘Look, Ade, can I have a word?’ Kel gestured to the garden terrace that lay beyond the double doors. It had assumed an unattractive autumnal messiness, net on the tennis court sagging. The leaves on the vine were dipping and dripping to the flagstones. Unpicked grapes rotted on the stalk, dusted with mildew.
‘You’re joking? It’s raining. Besides, there’s nothing you can say to me that Swanny can’t hear. That’s how we work, remember? So not hormones. What’s up?’
Kel supposed Ade would have to tell Swanny anyway so maybe it was better to get it over with in one briefing. ‘It’s about Meri.’
Ade winked at Swanny. ‘Thought it might be.’
‘She’s gone.’
‘Gone where?’ He tore the crust off his slice.
‘I mean she’s run away.’
‘Did we scare her that much? I thought she’d, you know, come round with a little time?’
‘She can’t come round. She’s not one of us.’
‘Not yet, but the sight—’
There was no way of sugaring this pill. ‘Ade, I think there’s a chance that she’s Tean. In fact, I’m pretty sure.’
The toast dropped back on the counter as Ade swore fluently. ‘How do you know?’
‘She could see our markings even when we weren’t flaring.’
Swanny grabbed his mobile from the charging point by the radio. ‘Where do you think she is? I’ll send a team to pick her up.’
‘I don’t know where she is—and I don’t think sending a squad after her is appropriate. She must be frightened enough as it is.’
‘She’s frightened? Wake up, Kel: we have a Tean on the loose in London. She could kill anyone of us!’ Ade began pacing.
‘Really? Did she show any signs of that yesterday when she had all of us at her mercy? As I read it, she just wanted to get away.’
Ade waved off that argument. ‘She was outnumbered then. Swanny, get on it. The Tean must be captured at all costs. Shit. Shit.’
‘Her name is Meri,’ Kel said. ‘Meri that you nicknamed Mouse. Someone you were friendly with just last night.’
Ade poked a finger at Kel. ‘Put aside your personal feelings on this. Meredith Marlowe is a clear and present danger to our existence, Kel. You should know this better than any of us.’
‘How? She’s just one girl.’
‘She’s an Atlantean, one of the race that bred us for their amusement, the reason we have these.’ Ade shoved his forearm under Kel’s nose, markings starting to flare as his fight instinct surged. ‘Captive breeding programmes, artificial selection to raise a slave population that pleased them.’
‘Millennia ago.’
‘But never forgotten, never forgiven. And it’s not such ancient history. Your own mother, only a few years ago, burned with four others by the last Tean squad in America.’
‘I know that.’ Kel felt like Ade was driving a spike through his head.
‘Then you know your dad had to dump her body along with the other victims in a river to hide the evidence, not even give his wife and our brothers and sisters a decent burial. But the threat never ends, does it? Meri can do the same to you right now, or sterilize you, bleaching your organs from the inside with lower doses of her power. Have you ever seen one of us after a Tean has finished?’
Kel shook his head.
‘I’ve been shown the pictures—and they’re not pretty. You wouldn’t think I was overreacting if you had.’
‘Just because she can, doesn’t mean she will.’
‘She’s been exposed, now she’ll be hunted so of course she will. She’ll have no choice.’ Ade turned to Swanny. ‘Bring in the guardian, Theo Woolf. Take Lee with you. Let’s find out what he knows.’
This was horrible, like watching a multi-vehicle accident with no way of stopping it. ‘You can’t just snatch a civilian off the streets,’ protested Kel.
‘Why? Woolf won’t involve the police if that means more people looking for the Tean. He’ll answer our questions, I promise you.’
‘Ade, don’t do this.’
‘It’s what we’ve all been trained to do. Are you letting your feelings for the girl overrule a lifetime of training?’
‘Then let me be the one to bring Meri in.’
‘Can you do that? No one will blame you for stepping back from this. The only way we’ll be safe is if we put her out of action. Permanently.’
What had he started? wondered Kel with growing horror. ‘Not acceptable. This is the twenty-first century. You can’t go around executing our enemies without due process, certainly not when they’ve done nothing but be born.’
‘Fine, as a concession to you and to check our facts, she gets a trial. With any luck she really is the last of her kind and we can put this to bed now once and for all.’
‘A death sentence is not an option here, Ade.’
‘Death comes to us all as you well know. I’m trying to stop us finding ours too soon.’
‘And she’s the sacrifice?’
‘Damn right she is. Rather a Tean than you or me.’
Anger blazed, Kel’s skin markings flaring. ‘And you can live with yourself when you say that, you murdering bastard?’
‘I’m one of the ruling house, you disrespectful prick! It is our responsibility to protect our people, take the hard decisions.’
‘So you’ve already tried and condemned her in your own mind. Bringing her in is just the first step to the gallows? God, Ade, did I ever even know you?’
‘Don’t start bleating now about human rights, Kel.’
‘Why? Because you know you are acting like…like some kind of fascist? Kill the undesirable. Send her to the gas chambers for being who she is, not what she’s done? Christ, you make me sick.’
Ade turned his back in an effort to calm down before either of them was tempted to throw a punch. ‘Swanny
, see that Kel is secured in his quarters while he has a chance to cool off. We’ll review his conduct tomorrow.’
‘Sod that. I resign.’
‘Resignation not accepted. Swanny.’
‘Come on, Kel. Don’t make this more difficult than it need be.’ Judging Kel’s mood, Swanny took out a taser from the holster at his belt. They knew not to take Kel on in hand to hand.
Kel backed towards the patio doors. ‘If you think I’m sitting quietly confined to quarters, Swanny, while you back this homicidal maniac then you know nothing about me.’
Swanny cooly checked the setting and took aim. ‘I’m sorry, but Ade’s right. Teans are too dangerous.’
‘Then sod you too.’ Though the chance was slight, Kel made a break for the doors. The dart hit his back, delivering its payload of electricity. He crumpled to the floor, body shrieking with a pain to match his mental anguish.
Lights out.
When Kel came to, he was in his own room, lying on the bed, storm blinds lowered on the window to keep him in, door shut and probably locked. His whole body ached and twitched, little cramps running up his calf muscles like someone was sticking in needles. He could hear a commotion outside, voices raised, the sound of things being moved as if they were preparing for a siege.
One little Tean and they lost their heads. Flight or fight instincts kicking in and the Perilous assumed battle readiness.
And it was his fault. He should not have said anything. Instead, he should have gone after Meri, told her to hide and never make contact with the Perilous again. He should’ve helped her disappear. He had to hope she’d done a good enough job of that herself as he had so monumentally cocked up. How had he not understood? He’d gone and pushed the big red button without realizing the consequences, thinking everyone would see it like he did.
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