by Tim O'Rourke
“I know what you mean,” Kayla added. “Isidor and I have been there.”
“We decided to stay out of town in a motel,” Elizabeth
continued. “And it was as we made our way back through town to our car, that I saw your advert in the shop window and that word ‘pushed’ made me think of what Emily had said to me. Do you think you can help?”
Not wanting to give away how much I knew about the world being pushed, I looked across the table at Elizabeth and said, “I think it would be best if you returned straight to Lon…Linden. You can be of little to no help here. And just in case you are wrong about McCain, surely it would be better if you were at home, where your sister knows that she can find you. I will make some enquires at the school and with the local police. Please can you give me your sister’s full name, date of birth, bank details, mobile phone number and car index?”
“Why?” Elizabeth asked me.
“It may help with my enquiries.”
“Do you think you might be able to discover what happened to my sister?” Elizabeth said, writing down the information that I had asked for.
“I don’t know the answer to that question,” I said softly. “But you have my guarantee that I will do my very best to discover the truth for you. But it does seem like a most desperate case where your sister is concerned and it would be wrong of me to give you false hope.”
“It’s not hope that I’m looking for,” Elizabeth said. “It’s the truth that I seek.”
“Then go back to Linden tonight and I shall be in contact with you as soon as I have some news,” I tried to assure her.
Elizabeth stood up and went to the door. Isidor followed her as if to show her out. But at the door, she turned to look back at me.
“Pushed,” she said. “You know what my sister was talking about don’t you, Kiera Hudson?”
I looked straight back at her, and with half a smile I said, “That’s what we do, Miss Clarke. We push back where others can’t. Goodbye.”
Chapter Sixteen
Kiera
“I’ll do it,” Kayla said as soon as Elizabeth had left the room.
“Do what?” I asked her.
“Go into Ravenwood School,” she said, looking at me straight in the eye. “That’s what you want, isn’t it?”
“Out of the question,” I said, getting up and leaving the room.
“How else are we gonna find out what’s happening in there?” she called out, running down the corridor after me.
I reached the great hall as Isidor was closing the door behind our visitor. “Have a word with your sister,” I said to him as I made my way back to the kitchen.
“Why, what’s she done?” Isidor muttered, sounding lost.
“She thinks she’s one of Charlie’s Angels,” Potter snipped as he followed close behind me.
“I don’t think I’m a Charlie’s Angel!” Kayla shouted as she stormed into the kitchen.
“You’re not doing it,” I told her flatly.
“Why not?” she asked, and I could hear frustration simmering just beneath the surface.
“Who’s this Charlie dude?” Isidor asked as he wandered into the kitchen.
Potter turned on him and said, “At first I thought the whole dumb thing was just an act, but now I’m beginning to wonder if you’re not just a bit thick.”
“All I asked was…” Isidor started.
“Whatever,” Potter growled, sitting on the corner of the kitchen table where he lit another cigarette. “I don’t want to hear it.”
“Your sister thinks it would be a good idea if she went undercover into Ravenwood School,” I explained to Isidor, feeling a little sorry for him.
He stood by the kitchen door and scratched his tuft of a beard. “That’s, like, a really bad idea Kayla,” Isidor said.
“Why is it?” she snapped at him, and he almost seemed to flinch backwards. “I’m not a kid anymore and I wish you would stop treating me like one.”
“No one is treating you like a kid,” I tried to assure her. “It’s just that…”
“It’s too dangerous,” she said, spraying mock laughter. “After everything that we’ve been through together, everything that I’ve seen and done and you still don’t trust me.”
“Steady on,” Potter cut in. “This has nothing to do with trust.”
“And who asked you, Potter?” Kayla ripped back. “You don’t really care about me. I asked you the other day to lend me the money to buy an iPod and you told me to fuck off, so stop pretending that you care.”
“What’s that got to do with anything?” Potter snapped, blowing smoke through his nostrils. “It’s not up to me to provide you with all the must-have gadgets. I’m not your father.”
“So stop trying to act like one!” Kayla roared at him. “When my real father died you told me I had to toughen up, remember? You said there was no place for booing and wooing and the only way to defeat the enemy was by being strong and hitting back.”
“Did I really say that?” Potter asked me.
“Yes,” I nodded, cringing at the thought of how he had broken the news of the death of her father.
“See, I’m not a jerk like so many people believe,” he said with a serious look on his face. “I gave you some good advice back there.”
“That wasn’t good advice,” Isidor said in disbelief. “That was cruel. And you said I looked like Shaggy-Doo. I looked him up on the internet and everything. I don’t look nothing like a Great Dane!”
“I wasn’t talking about the fucking dog!” Potter groaned. “Tell me something, Isidor, have you never watched T.V.?”
“I read,” Isidor told him proudly. “I don’t watch T.V. I like to use my imagination.”
“Don’t we know it,” Potter grumbled.
“Look, can we please stop talking about Scooby-Doo and God knows what else?” I gasped in disbelief. “It’s like living with a bunch of kids.”
“He started it,” Potter said, pointing at Isidor.
“No, I did not,” Isidor shot back. “You said I looked like a cartoon dog.”
“Yeah and you keep calling me Gabriela,” Potter barked, climbing from the table.
“Gabriel,” Isidor said, stepping closer to Potter. “Besides it wasn’t me who called you that, it was those Elders and…”
“Please!” I screamed, slamming my fists down onto the table. “Enough already! I can’t take any more.”
The room fell into silence. It was so quiet that if we’d had hearts we would’ve been able to hear them beating. I drew a deep breath. Then, turning to look at Kayla, I said, “If you really want to do this, I won’t hold you back.”
“You really mean that, Kiera?” Kayla asked, her eyes wide. “What changed your mind?”
“You’re right,” I told her. Then, looking at Potter, I added, “and however much it pains me to say this, Potter was right too. Sometimes it doesn’t do any good wallowing in self-pity. Sometimes you have to take the fight to the enemy.”
“It sounds like suicide to me,” Isidor said.
“Perhaps you should go then,” Potter mumbled and I shot an angry look at him.
Then, turning to look at Kayla, Potter said, “Are you sure about this? You’ve got nothing to prove to any of us. I know how tough you can be and I’d be happy to stand shoulder to shoulder with you in any fight.”
“Thanks,” she half-smiled. “I know I don’t have to go into Ravenwood School, but how else are we going to find out what’s happened to Emily Clarke? I mean, what’s the worst that can happen? I’m dead already.”
“You can still be destroyed,” Isidor said, stepping towards his sister and wrapping his arm about her shoulder. “If one of those wolves were to cut off your head, or…what if one of them tried to match with you?”
“Yeah, thanks for your input, Shakespeare,” Potter said. “Why don’t you go bury your head in a book?”
“No, Isidor is right,” I said. “What if one of those wolves tries to match with Ka
yla — what would happen then?”
“Let’s just hope that they don’t like the look of me,” Kayla half joked.
I didn’t want to dwell on the danger that Kayla was putting herself in — the danger we were all placing her in, so I said, “You’ve got a week in there — max. No more. And one whiff of danger and you fly straight out of there.”
“I promise,” Kayla said, and I could see the excitement burning in her eyes at the thought of the adventure and mystery that lay ahead of her.
“And if we sense for one moment that you are in danger, we are coming in after you,” Potter told her.
“How are we going to know if she’s in danger?” Isidor quizzed. “We won’t be in contact with her. It’s not like she can pop home one evening or give us a call.”
Potter reached into his back jeans pocket and pulled something from it. “Kayla can keep in contact with this,” he said, throwing whatever it was that he had fished from his pocket across the room at her.
Kayla snatched it from the air and her face lit up. “It’s an iPod!” she beamed.
“I got it for you when I went over the wall a few days ago,” Potter said. Then swallowing hard, as if what he was about to say was going to choke him somehow, he said, “I’m sorry for telling you to fuck off the other week when you asked me to lend you the money. I was just feeling a bit cranky that day. I didn’t mean anything by it.”
With a smile spread across her face, Kayla came around the table and threw her arms around Potter. “Thank you,” she said.
I could see that Potter didn’t know whether or not to hug her back, as his arms hung uncomfortably at his sides. “Yeah, yeah, that’s okay. Just remember, I’m not your dad. That thing cost me nearly three hundred pounds, so you can pay me the money back if and when you ever get a job,” he said, then winked at me over her shoulder.
Kayla let go of Potter and looked down at the iPod.
“How is Kayla going to keep in contact with that?” Isidor asked.
Before Potter had a chance of saying anything back to Isidor, I said, “Kayla will be able to send emails to my iPod and we can Skype. That way we can talk and see each other.” Seeing the look of concern on Isidor’s face for his sister, I added, “You’ll be able to see and chat to Kayla too.”
“Good,” he smiled; although I could see that he was still scared for her.
“So what’s the plan?” Kayla asked. “How do I get inside the school? Shall I fly over the wall?”
“No,” Potter said shaking his head. “They might wonder where you suddenly appeared from. They must keep a register — something like that. We need a good cover story.”
“My parents are both dead, right?” Kayla cut in. “So how about, I’ve been sent here to live with my Uncle Potter. But my uncle can’t be bothered with having some spoilt teenager hanging around the place, so he packs me off to the local boarding school?”
“It sounds okay, I guess,” I said thoughtfully. “Do you think this McCain will buy it?”
“Why not?” Potter said. “It doesn’t sound like this McCain is the sort of guy to turn a kid away. He needs as many as he can get, remember?”
“When shall I go in?” Kayla asked, refusing to let go of the iPod that Potter had bought for her.
“I’ll call McCain tomorrow,” Potter said thoughtfully. Then, looking at Kayla, he added, “Don’t just stand there, go and pack a bag.”
Without saying another word, Kayla left the kitchen. Isidor followed her, but on reaching the door, he looked back at the both of us and said, “You better be right about this.”
Before I’d had the chance to say anything, he had gone. I turned to Potter to see him light another cigarette. “That was a really nice thing that you did,” I said to him.
“Oh yeah, and what was that?” he asked me.
“Buying that iPod for Kayla,” I said, moving across the kitchen towards him, needing a hug.
“It was nothing,” he shrugged, taking me in his arms.
“It wasn’t nothing to her,” I told him. “I saw that look of delight on her face. You made her really happy.”
Smiling down at me he said, “Fancy making me really happy?”
“And how might I do that?” I smiled back.
“By letting me share your bed tonight, sweetcheeks,” he said. “It gets lonely in the gatehouse.”
As I led him to my bedroom, I looked at him and said, “So where did you get the cash to be able to afford that iPod?”
“You know that little tin that you have hidden on the shelf in the kitchen back in your flat?” he said.
“Yeah, the tin with my savings in…” Realising where he had got the money, I pushed him hard in the chest. “You are so naughty…”
But before I’d the chance to finish what I was going to say, Potter was leaning into me. “You love it when I’m naughty,” he whispered in my ear. Then, throwing open my bedroom door, he pushed me down onto the bed.
The next morning, as planned, Potter found the number of Ravenwood School on the Web and called McCain. Potter explained that Kayla’s parents had recently been killed in a boating accident and she had been left in his charge. He said that his niece was fairly wayward and he was too busy and lacked the patience to deal with her. As Potter had suspected, McCain was all too willing to take Kayla into his care. He even waived the school fees. McCain informed Potter that he would send a car to collect Kayla within the hour.
I couldn’t help but feel a lump in my throat as Kayla appeared at the foot of the stairs that led into the great hall. In her hand she clutched a small case.
“Are you sure about this?” I asked, giving her a hug.
“I’m sure,” she said.
“Remember what we‘ve all agreed. You make contact every morning and every night. If we don’t hear from you, then we’re coming in to find you,” I told her.
“I’ll keep in contact,” she assured me with a smile.
“We’ll be close,” I said. “We’re going to stay at a nearby farmhouse that Isidor has found on the internet. We’ll be renting it for a week, so find out what you can and fast.”
“I know what to do,” Kayla said.
“Got the iPod?” Potter asked her.
“You bet.”
I let go of Kayla and she went to Isidor who stood by the door. “I’ll miss you,” she told him.
“I’ll miss you more,” he said, gripping her tightly in his arms. I couldn’t help but notice the look of sadness that had come over his face.
“I better go,” Kayla told him, and I could sense that if she didn’t go now, she never would.
Isidor let go of her, and we all watched as she stepped out into the rain. Kayla pulled the collar of her coat up around her throat. She looked right, then back at us. “I can see the car waiting just outside the gates,” she said.
“Are you sure you want to go?” Isidor asked, hiding from view in the doorway.
Then, looking back one last time at him, Kayla said, “See you later, alligator.”
“In a while, crocodile,” Isidor whispered, closing the front door on his sister.
Chapter Seventeen
Kayla
My journey from Hallowed Manor to Ravenwood School took just over an hour. The driver had spoken little, offering the odd grunt in response to my attempts at conversation. In fact the man had seemed too busy chewing on the end of the cigarette he held between his teeth to say very much at all.
I sat and glanced through the rain-spattered windows as we reached the grounds of the school. The first thing I noticed was the huge search towers that Elizabeth Clarke had described and the razor wire that covered the tops of the walls. I could see that a bunch of hooded figures were watching from the towers as the driver drove the car through the gates and steered it up the winding drive to the school.
With the back of my hand, I rubbed away some of the condensation from my window. But however much I stared up at those hooded figures in their grey robes, I couldn’t see t
heir faces. It kinda freaked me out, my stomach started to somersault. It was too late to go back now.
“What is this place?” I asked the driver, keen to make out that I knew nothing of the building that stretched before me.
“A school,” the driver said, the tip of his cigarette winking on and off as it dangled from the corner of his mouth.
I watched the blue-grey cigarette smoke squirt from his nostrils and said, “Do you think you could put that out? It smells disgusting.”
“Quit complaining,” the driver said, and sucked on the end of the cigarette as if in defiance.
“It’s bad for my health,” I told him.
“Yeah and so is a smack in the mouth, so keep it shut!” the driver replied.
Elizabeth hadn’t been kidding when she had described the school staff to us. Ignoring him, I turned and looked back through the car windows at the school, which loomed ahead. Elizabeth had been right in her description of it. It did look more like a prison than a school.
“Are you sure this is a school?” I asked the driver.
“I’m sure,” he coughed.
“It’s just that it doesn’t look like a school — it looks like some kinda mental institution.”
He stubbed out his cigarette in the already overflowing ashtray, and flashing a set of bright yellow teeth he said, “You’ll feel right at home then, won’t you girlie.”
“I thought my uncle had sent me to a place of education,” I said.
“Jee-sus!” the driver wheezed. “Don’t you ever quit your moaning? No wonder your parents topped themselves!”
I knew that Potter had told McCain that my make-believe parents had died in a boating accident, not that they had killed themselves. This jerk was just trying to be cruel. I looked at the driver and said, “My parents never killed themselves. They died in a boating accident. They drowned.”