by Tim O'Rourke
“That fucking animal,” Potter hissed.
Emily was dead, her eyes wide open. I looked at the screen and I felt goose flesh run up my back as I looked into her eyes. She had died looking straight up at her secret camera. It was like she lay there staring straight into my eyes.
We continued to watch as McCain leapt from Emily and stood there looking down at her for a short time, his giant tail swishing back and forth. He then sauntered out of camera shot, leaving Emily dead on the floor. Isidor forwarded the video again until McCain re-entered the bedroom. This time he was back in his human form, but someone or something had returned to the room with him.
“What the fuck is that?” Potter said, squinting at the screen.
“It looks like some kinda elf with a melted face,” Isidor suggested.
“That’s a small boy,” I gasped. “It’s a boy who’s suffered horrific burns to his face and hands.”
“This just keeps getting weirder and weirder,” Potter said. “I thought the world was pretty screwed up before it got pushed — but this takes the piss.”
We watched as the small boy with the burns yanked the blankets from Emily’s bed. Together, McCain and the boy laid them out on the floor. Then between them, they rolled Emily face down onto the blankets and covered her. They then rolled her over until she was wrapped tightly. McCain then took one end of Emily, and the boy took the other. They then carried her out of camera shot.
There was nothing else recorded on the camera. Isidor switched it off and turned to look at me, his face ashen. “What now?” he asked me.
“We go and rip that fucking arsehole’s lungs out,” Potter cut in.
“No!” I snapped and raised my hand. “We can’t do that. It won’t solve anything. We need to do this by the book if we are going to get justice for Emily and her sister Elizabeth.”
“I don’t know if you’ve noticed,” Potter spat, “but there doesn’t seem to be too much justice in this new world that we now find ourselves in.”
“It doesn’t matter,” I told him. “We follow the rules and do it properly.”
“I was wondering when Kiera’s rule book was going to come out,” Potter sighed. “When are you going to get it, huh? These animals don’t follow any rules — they’re nothing but dog shit.”
“Kiera’s right,” Isidor said. “We should tread carefully — we don’t want people to find out what we really are…”
“Says the Terminator impersonator!” Potter growled at him. “I should’ve guessed that you would side with Kiera. Why don’t you show some backbone for once…”
“It has nothing to do with what Kiera thinks or about how much backbone I have,” Isidor said, jumping up from his seat. “In case you’ve forgotten, my sister is trapped in that school with that animal. And if it hadn’t have been for Kayla’s backbone, you wouldn’t even have that tape. So back off, Potter, because you’re beginning to get on my fucking nerves!”
“Okay, enough already,” I said. “This constant bitching isn’t going to get us anywhere, nor is crashing into that school and killing McCain.”
“So what do you suggest?” Potter snapped. “We sit and wait for McCain and the Munchkin lookalike to rip apart another young woman?”
“No,” I said staring back at him. “We take this video to Banner and…”
“Are you for real, sweetcheeks?” Potter barked. “You said yourself that Banner was a waste of space. If we go marching into his station with that video, he is going to make us feel about as welcome as a fart in an elevator!”
“We have to try, Potter,” I snapped. “Isidor is right. We can’t risk revealing who and what we truly are. This place is messed up enough without throwing Vampyrus and half-breeds into the mix. We take the camera down to Banner and if he’s not willing to help us…”
“Then what?” Potter asked me.
“We deal with McCain ourselves,” I said.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Kayla
I wasn’t in pain, but I could feel myself going taut as if I were turning brittle somehow. My throat was burning up and my stomach was cramping. I had the flat of one hand pressed against my chest, and I could feel the blood pumping from the wound was already starting to congeal. Feeling the sticky red stuff between my fingers made my stomach ache and I wanted blood more than ever. But I felt so heavy, like I was made of stone somehow.
“Oh my god, what have I done?” someone said close by me. “What have I done?”
I forced my eyes half open, and I could just make out Sam hovering beside the bed. “Kayla what have I done to you? You look like you’re turning to stone,” he cried.
“My bag,” I whispered. “Get my bag.”
“Bag?” he asked confused. “What bag?”
“Beneath my wardrobe,” I mumbled. “There are some glass tubes — pink stuff in them.”
I closed my eyes again and listened to Sam rummaging around beneath my wardrobe. I heard my bag slide across the room and the zip open. “There aren’t any tubes,” he panicked. “What are you talking about?”
“There is a cut down the side of the bag…” I wheezed. “Look in there.”
I heard the sound of the glass tubes clinking together as he fumbled for them. Then he was at my side again. “Open one,” I gasped, the cramps in my stomach now agony. The sound of the cap being unscrewed beside me was almost deafening.
“Now what?” he gasped.
“Give some of it to me,” I whispered.
I felt Sam’s hand slip behind my head as he tried to raise it off the pillow, but it seemed too heavy for him to budge. So he placed the brim of the tube against my lips. I opened my mouth and he poured in some of the Lot 13. It tasted bitter and sweet as it rolled over my tongue. I swallowed, then took some more. Almost at once, the cramps in my stomach began to ease, and I felt my whole body begin to soften. The blood from the wound in my chest dried beneath my fingers.
“Is it helping?” I heard Sam ask, taking the empty tube away from my lips.
I lifted my free hand off the bed and it no longer felt like it were tied to a giant weight. The knife that Sam had plunged into me was still sticking from my chest, so wrapping my fingers around the handle I pulled it out.
Sam made a gasping sound. Then, before he knew what had happened, I had sprung from my bed. Without being able to control the change within me, my fangs were out, as were my wings and claws. I sprang through the air towards him. With a look of horror on his face, I pushed him in the chest, sending him smashing into the wall. Then I was on him, one claw around his throat and the other holding the knife just an inch from his heart.
“Don’t you ever do that to me again!” I hissed into his terrified face.
“What are you?” he wheezed, my claws so tight about his throat that it was difficult for him to him breathe.
“You don’t really want to know what I am,” I warned. “You don’t really want to know the truth — you couldn’t handle the truth.”
“You looked like you were turning to stone, just like that statue that chased us,” he gasped. “What happened to you?”
“I don’t know,” I said, feeling scared.
I loosened my grip on him, and rubbing his throat, he said, “I was right, though, you are different. You’re not like us.”
“Just get out,” I barked, and turned my back on him.
“Are you a vampire?” he whispered, just in case someone might be listening.
“No, I’m not a vampire,” I snapped. “Now get out.”
“What are you then?” he asked, coming towards me.
I turned to look at him, and flashing my fangs and letting my wings tremor, I said, “I’m dead, that’s what I am.”
“So it was you in the newspaper,” he gasped. “It was you on the beach that day.”
“I wasn’t on any beach with you,” I spat. “I don’t know what you are talking about.”
“But that was you in the paper, right?”
“Yes,” I tol
d him.
“So how? Why…?” Sam stammered, and I could see that he couldn’t take his eyes off me. He didn’t look scared, exactly, just curious. “How come you are walking around with wings, fangs and stuff? The newspaper said you were dead.”
“I don’t have time for this,” I said. “I need to get…”
“On with your mission,” Sam cut in.
“What are you talking about?” I sighed. “What mission?”
“To save me and the others who are locked up in here, that’s why you’re here, isn’t it?” he asked, his eyes wide and full of hope.
Looking at him with pity, I said, “Sam, I’m not here to save you or anyone else. Despite what you believe, I’ve never seen you before. I wasn’t there on the beach that day with you, the first time I ever spoke to you was by the Poor Box and my parents didn’t drown.”
“So why are you here then?” he asked me.
“To find out who murdered Miss Clarke,” I told him. “I have friends waiting for me on the outside. That’s why I wanted to search Miss Clarke’s room. I was looking for that camera. I left it in the woods today to be collected by my friends.”
“I don’t believe you,” Sam said softly, sounding let down. “I have seen you before. You’re like an angel who’s been sent to rescue us. You even have wings like an angel.”
“I’ve had these wings all my life, Sam,” I said. “Way before I was murdered and died. It’s who I am. That’s why I used to get bullied, because I was different from the other girls I went to school with.”
“But you were made different for a reason, Kayla,” Sam said. “Can’t you see that?”
“Whatever the reason may be, Sam,” I said gently, “it isn’t to come here and rescue you. I’m sorry.”
“Me too,” he said, slumping down onto my bed.
“I wish I could help, but me and my friends can’t risk bringing attention to ourselves,” I tried to explain.
“Are your friends like you then?”
“Yes. And they’ll be waiting for me to contact them,” I said. “If the stuff on that camera shows what happened to Miss Clarke, I can get out of here.”
“Take me with you,” Sam said, getting up from the bed and coming towards me.
“I can’t,” I whispered. “You’re not one of us — it would be dangerous for you.”
“Any more dangerous than being matched with a wolf?” he said.
“I’m sorry, Sam,” I started, checking my pockets for my iPod. I wanted to speak with Kiera; I was desperate to find out what was on the camera so I could get out of Ravenwood School. But as I fumbled in my pockets, I realised that it was gone.
“What are you looking for?” Sam asked me.
“My iPod,” I snapped, now searching the pockets of my blazer.
“You’re not allowed to have iPods, mobile phones, or anything like that at Ravenwood,” Sam started to explain.
“I couldn’t give a shit,” I said, not really listening to him now. Then, looking at him I added, “Have you taken it?”
“Why would I have taken it? When would I have taken it?” he asked.
“When I was on the bed,” I said. “You could’ve taken it then.”
“Why would I have done that?” he asked, sounding confused. “I want your help — not to piss you off. Maybe it fell out of your pocket as we climbed the tree?”
“Maybe…” I said thoughtfully. “I’m going to have to go and find it. It’s the only way I have of contacting my friends.” With my fangs, claws, and wings disappearing, I went to the door.
“Where are you going?” Sam asked.
“To find my iPod, of course.”
“But you can’t,” Sam said. “It’s almost dark out. The Greys will be up in those search towers with the lights, they’ll see you.”
“That’s a chance I’m gonna have to take,” I told him. “I need to find that iPod.”
“I’ll come with you,” he suggested, as I swung open the door to my room.
“Leaving us so soon?” someone asked, and I looked around to find McCain standing outside my bedroom door.
“I’m going to the bathroom,” I lied.
“And what’s Brooke doing in your room after dark?” McCain asked, peering over my shoulder. “You know the school rules.”
“I wanted to borrow a book,” Sam said.
“That’s what we have a school library for,” McCain barked at him, his bulbous nose glowing red. Then, sniffing, he looked at the both of us and said, “I guess it doesn’t really matter, after all, you’ll both be leaving here tonight.”
“Leaving?” Sam gasped. “What, going home you mean?”
“Yes,” McCain said, and his yellow eyes twinkled. “I haven’t been able to find a suitable match for either of you.”
“But I thought you said…” I started recalling the conversation I’d had with McCain earlier that day.
“I was wrong about that,” McCain said, yanking the bottle of nasal spray from his pocket and ramming it up his right nostril. “My sense of smell isn’t what it used to be. I can’t find a suitable match for you, Hunt.”
“So we can go right now?” Sam asked, shoving past me and into the corridor, eager to set off — and I couldn’t blame him.
“Not right at once,” McCain smiled, putting the nasal spray back in his pocket. “There is some paperwork that has to be completed. But you don’t have to worry about that. We are throwing a leaving party in the old chapel — it’s our way of saying goodbye. I know it hasn’t always been easy for you children, but no harm was ever meant to you. We want you to leave Ravenwood with some fond memories and tell your families that it wasn’t so bad here.”
I looked at McCain, and I couldn’t believe that he was just going to let us walk away from Ravenwood. He stared down at me and smiled.
“So if you would like to make your way to the chapel with the others, I’ll finish the paperwork,” he smiled again. “I hope you enjoy the party.”
I wanted to tell Sam not to go. But, before I’d had a chance to say anything, two of the Greys stepped from the shadows and ushered Sam and me down the stairwell.
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Kayla
The Greys led us out of the school building where the other students, who had been chosen to be set free, were waiting for us. Amongst them I could see Pryor, the Addison twins, and Dorsey. He stood away from the rest of us as usual, alone. I felt sorry for him. I’d never actually spoken to Dorsey. I figured that one way or another, I would be leaving the school very soon, and I would like to have said something to him.
We followed the Greys out across the courtyard and onto the surrounding lawns. The air was crisp and fresh, but not cold. The moon was full and hung low in the sky like a silver disc. As we followed the Greys in single file away from the school building, Dorsey sauntered up beside me. He looked at me as if he wanted to say something.
“You all right, Dorsey?” I asked.
“I just wanted to say, you didn’t have to do that for me the other day,” he said angrily.
I was taken aback by the anger in his voice and said, “It’s okay — it wasn’t your fault — it was that idiot, Pry — ”
“What I meant to say is, I can fight my own battles, you know. I don’t need you sticking up for me.”
I frowned and said, “I only did it to help you.”
Hearing how Dorsey had spoken to me, Sam cut in and said, “Listen here, you ungrateful little…”
“No, that’s okay,” I interrupted.
“Okay?” Sam said, then turned on Dorsey. “Kayla could’ve got herself in the shit by sticking up for you.”
“I didn’t ask her to stick her nose in,” Dorsey spat.
“From where I was standing, Pryor was getting ready to…” Sam started.
“Don’t worry about it, Sam.” I looked at Dorsey, and trying to hide my disappointment, I said to him, “Look, Dorsey, I’m sorry for butting in, but I was trying to be a mate — that was all. I
just wanted to help…”
“Like I said, thanks but no thanks,” he hissed, then sped off up the line.
“Can you believe that?” Sam sighed. “What an ungrateful little turd!”
“Maybe he’s right. Perhaps I shouldn’t have stepped in for him. I probably embarrassed him,” I said.
“You saved him from a good beating, that’s what you did!” Sam insisted.
“Let’s just forget about it. I’m not bothered, really.”
“Like I’ve already said, Kayla, I’ve never met anyone like you before,” Sam half-smiled at me.
I watched Dorsey walk away, and although I could understand the point he was trying to make, I did feel a little hurt. Then, looking at Sam, I smiled back, and said, “Let’s get this over and done with and get out of here.”
The Greys led us around the outside of the school and away from the back of the building. We reached a clump of trees, and thinking this was where we would stop, they continued, until we stepped out into a large open area. In the middle was a stone-built chapel. It had a spire that stretched up into the night. It wasn’t as small as I had imagined it to be. There were a set of steps leading up to a white wooden door which was open. From inside I could hear the sound of music seeping out into the night. It wasn’t choir music, it was rock music. It was like a party was in full swing inside. I could feel an excitement running through the group of kids around me as they whispered to one another about being freed and getting to see their families again.
Leaning towards Sam, I whispered, “Are you sure you want to go in?”
Sam nodded his head. “Hell yeah.”
“Why?” I whispered over the boom-boom of the music coming from the chapel.
“Because I just want to get out of here.”
“But do you really think that McCain is just gonna let you go?” I asked him.
“You heard what he said,” Sam smiled at me, and I could see the hope in his eyes. Then, he was gone, heading along with the others towards the open chapel doorway.