by James Erith
Gus gasped. ‘What ... who ... are you?’
‘I’m a spirit, and this young man has become my flesh and blood. Come on, boy, there’s no time to lose.’
Gus tried to compose himself. ‘You won’t be able to take her with you,’ he said. ‘She’d rather die than go with you. I know her better than anyone. Trust me, Kemp.’
Kemp tutted. ‘Thing is, Williams, you won’t be any good to her when you’re dead. Because, in a couple of days, everything here will be dead or dying and there’s nothing you’ll be able to do about it.’
‘You don’t know her!’ he spat.
Kemp smiled his fat, cheesy, smug smile. ‘You’re missing the point,’ he said coolly. ‘I don’t have to!’
‘She won’t do it!’
‘Then I’ll quite simply scoop her up, kicking and screaming. Like up a little dolly. It’s as simple as that. You see, Gus, I’m going to need a woman to start a family, a very, very big family. Have loads of kids and all that.’ He smiled, delighted by the agony it must be giving Williams.
‘You’ll do it over my dead body,’ Gus roared.
‘Very well. That’s easily arranged. Look, I hate to break it to you, Williams, but like it or not, Sue’s going to be, like, my very own Eve. After the annihilation of the planet, together, we’re going to repopulate the world.’
Gus looked on in astonishment as Kemp casually walked over to the ghost and pushed an arm down the coat. First his legs and then his left hand morphed into a curious material.
Dust fell to the floor. Ash?
A terrible fury tore through Gus. Before he knew what he was doing, he hurled himself at Kemp, his hands going directly for his throat, crushing Kemp’s windpipe.
Kemp gargled and tried to fight back but, being made of ash, his punches to Gus’ midriff came to nothing more than puffs of dust.
Gus squeezed harder, gritting his teeth.
Kemp’s face reddened and he fell to his knees.
‘Let go of him,’ the ghost’s voice ordered.
‘NO,’ Gus roared, ‘unless he promises not to touch Sue.’
As the ash leached up Kemp’s body towards his neck, Gus was finding it increasingly difficult for his hands to stay attached. Ash flew about as though scattered by an electric fan.
Kemp floundered and Cain could feel his suffering.
‘HALT!’ the ghost cried out. ‘This helps no one.’
Gus snarled. ‘As I said, NO!’
‘I will make you an offer—’
‘Not good enough. Promise me—’
‘Promises do not exist. I will make you the very best next thing: an offer,’ Cain said. ‘But only if you release him now.’
‘Help!’ Kemp croaked, his head puce.
Gus released Kemp and, as he did, Kemp’s body crashed to the floor. Moments later, the ghost stood next to Gus watching Kemp fighting for breath.
The ghost’s hat tilted upwards. ‘You have no idea what you’ve just got yourself into.’
The tense figure of Gus stood shaking, staring alternately at Kemp and then at the ghost.
‘What is your name?’ the ghost barked.
‘Gus.’
‘Gus,’ the ghost repeated. ‘Good. I cannot be doing with a weakling as my companion. You have given yourself a chance to save yourself. And you may be a better match than this boy, although he does have certain qualities I admire.’
‘Tell me your offer,’ Gus panted. ‘But before that, tell me who you are!’
‘I am the ghost of Cain. I cannot die but my power was removed and my flesh stripped from me. I exist as a spirit and I am the Master of Havilah and soon to be ruler of the universe. Is that sufficient?’
Gus said nothing.
‘Here’s my offer—’
‘Let me kill him,’ Kemp said, hoarsely.
‘No. In matters like this,’ Cain said, ‘it is important to keep one’s word. However, only one of you can come along.’ He addressed Kemp. ‘The boy bested you. He deserves a chance.’
‘A chance?’
‘To survive, boy.’
‘What sort of chance?’ Kemp’s voice hinted on nerves.
‘One of you must die.’
‘Die?’ both boys repeated.
‘Indeed. You will fight each other in a fight to the death. The winner comes with me and brings the “hot” girl named Sue.’
‘To the death?’ Gus said, shaken.
‘There is no room for another.’
Gus whimpered.
‘There can only going to be one winner,’ Cain said. ‘But you must willingly, with all your heart, and with all your soul, agree to come with me – or the deal’s off. You agree?’
Kemp sat on the floor, caressing his neck. His face was purple with rage. ‘I know this freak, Cain. He’ll never do it – he’ll never, ever, go with you,’ Kemp croaked. ‘He doesn’t have the balls—’
‘Do what?’ Gus fired back. ‘Go with who?’
Kemp coughed. ‘Look, Williams. You have to give yourself freely to the ghost. When you’re combined, he’s the one in control and, believe me, he’s a freaking maniac. My advice to you, Williams, is don’t do it. It’s one step too far.’
‘But it’s alright for you is it, Kemp?’
‘Listen to what the ghost said: you don’t know what you’ve got yourself in to. I promise you, Williams, for you, death would be better.’
Gus shook. ‘Why do you say this?’
‘Because it’s true. You’re giving your soul to the devil, Gus. You’d be better off dying rather than suffer what he has to offer.’
Cain tutted from under his hat. ‘Well, well, well, boy. What a dramatic speech. Who knows,’ he said drily, ‘Gus has earned the choice, and it is a simple one; do nothing and die helplessly in the oncoming destruction of the planet. Or kill you and spend the rest of his life ruling all the known worlds with me, alongside a girl he clearly cares very deeply for.’
Cain paused. ‘Personally, I think my offer is rather a good one; I know which one I’d choose. What do you think, Gus? It must be tempting? And, of course there would be so many fewer relationship issues for me to deal with.’
The ghost turned towards Gus. ‘Therefore I offer myself to him right now to discover what lies ahead.’
It took a couple of moments before Kemp clicked. ‘But ... you can’t – what about me?’
‘Be quiet, boy,’ Cain snapped. ‘As I said, Gus has earned the right to give our union a try. If he prefers death, then he cannot complain that he never had a fair chance.’
Gus quaked. ‘What do I—?’
‘Willingly put the coat on,’ Kemp said, reluctantly. ‘Like I was doing when you went for me. But don’t struggle. Then put on the hat. Close your eyes as the feeling moves up into your head. You’ll get a wicked burning feeling, so relax and don’t fight it. Take a good look at my baldy head if you want proof of what happens when you struggle. Got it?’
‘Sure,’ Gus said.
‘How else do you think I ended up in hospital covered in burns, huh?’
Gus stared at his foe.
Kemp grinned. ‘It was by way of this lunatic.’
Gus examined Kemp. He hesitated.
‘Look,’ the ghost said, sounding a bit bored, ‘if you cannot freely join with me then there is no contest. You, my old friend, win. It’s as easy as that.’
‘Wait,’ Gus said. ‘I need to think—’
‘Sorry, there’s no time for any of that,’ the ghost crowed. ‘It’s now or never. Come along, Kemp.’
Kemp stood up and rubbed his neck. ‘I didn’t think you could,’ he jibed. ‘Always been just a little too much like a chicken.’
In a flash, Gus moved in front of Kemp.
Then, looking Kemp straight in the eye, he thrust one arm down the coat’s sleeve-hole and, without delay, the other. His eyes rolled back and he squeezed out a long groan.
Now, the cold treacle-effect coursed through his body, along every vein and artery and down every s
inew and fibre in him, thrilling him.
Kemp closed in.
‘Keep away,’ the ghost barked. ‘We won’t be gone long.’
Gus groaned ever more as the cold liquid rounded his brain.
‘Dreamspinner, dreamspinner, dreamspinner,’ Cain barked into the air.
‘You’re not going,’ Kemp said desperately. ‘You can’t leave me here.’
‘Of course we are. I have to show the boy what he would be missing. It wouldn’t be fair otherwise.’
Two dreamspinners appeared out of the sky.
‘Back to Havilah, right away,’ he barked, and, using Gus’ body, Cain bent down.
‘You know,’ he said to Kemp, ‘it might not be a bad idea to be friendly to this “hot” girl. Trust me. You will never have a more opportune time to try.’
And with that, Cain and Gus dived off through the maghole of the dreamspinner and vanished in a tiny flash of light.
Silence filled the room. Kemp scanned the attic, the floor of which lay covered in ash.
He heard footsteps starting up from the bottom of the stairs, creaking lightly at first, then louder, step by step.
‘Gu-uss,’ a voice called out.
Kemp squirmed. Shit. Sue. What would he tell her? The truth? Make something up?
‘Gus, honey, where are you?’ she said. ‘Are you hiding from me, big fella?’
Kemp looked around for somewhere to hide. In Isabella de Lowe’s bed? Hell. The bloody irony.
What was he going to do?
ONE HUNDRED FIFTEEN
THE DEAL
Kemp thought fast. What should he say? Could he run off to see his mother? His mother! Just the thought filled him with such joy that a burst of love, of joy, coursed through his veins.
But what good was that now? He’d accepted an offer of a fight to the death, against Gus Williams. To the death! Kemp shook. Could he do it? He had to: if he won, he would have a mother – the one thing he’d yearned for all his life.
Sure, they’d give each other a kicking, a few punches, but ... death. That was an entirely different matter. In front of him lay the currency of survival; the price of living, the ledger of life and death.
More importantly, Kemp thought, did Gus have it in him to kill him?
Already, in their short time together, Cain had done unspeakable things, but it was always Cain’s doing, not his. Never his.
To Cain, every life was expendable and in their new arrangement he was the body, the muscle and he’d learnt that it wasn’t worth arguing. Whatever Cain wanted, he obliged, and as such, Kemp didn’t care either.
The experience was thrilling and powerful. With this attitude he felt like a king, a god. But this was Cain’s hand at work, not his. When it came to his schoolmates, even if they didn’t like each other, murder by his hands was an entirely different matter.
In two bounds he was in Archie’s section, throwing himself on the bed.
The door opened. The floorboards groaned.
He heard her call out, rather sweetly, ‘Gus?’
Suddenly the rings of the curtain pulled back. His heart thumped in his chest.
A gasp.
Whatever you do, please don’t scream, he thought.
She stared as he moaned. He turned awkwardly in the bed.
She rushed towards him, concerned.
Kemp knew exactly what he had to do. He needed her sympathy.
He needed to fake it.
Make it look like he was a victim.
He rolled and cried out, as though in agony.
Soft hands rested on his forehead.
He groaned.
He smelt her as she sat beside him. A simple, soft, fragrance, like perfumed blossom.
‘I’m sorry,’ he said, sadness in his tone. He couldn’t think of anything else to say. ‘Please ... please don’t hurt me,’ he added, for effect.
Her hand moved from his forehead across his bald head. ‘I’m not going to hurt you, understand?’
He nodded.
‘Is it you, really you?’ she said, a puzzled tone to her voice. ‘I don’t understand. How did you get here?’
Kemp rolled over and faced her, tears in his eyes. ‘I don’t know ... I ... I stole a boat ... walked ...’ he stammered. ‘No one was here when I arrived.’
Sue walked around the room. When she opened the curtain to Isabella’s section, she stopped and kicked at a pile of ash. ‘What happened in here? It’s like there’s been a fire – but without a fire?’ she examined some of the marks in the ash. ‘Do you know where Gus is?’
Kemp shook his head. ‘Sorry.’ He noted the disappointment in her face and pulled himself up. ‘You ... you survived, you made it.’
Sue came over. ‘Ssh,’ she said. ‘Can I get you something? You must be starving.’ She smiled and held his hand briefly. ‘Mrs. Pye told me your news.’
Kemp flinched. ‘News?’ he repeated.
Her eyebrows lifted and she smiled sweetly. ‘That she’s your mother,’ she said. ‘I think it’s one of the most amazing stories I’ve ever heard.’
Kemp smiled. He couldn’t help it. ‘Thanks, Sue,’ he said. ‘Look, I’m so sorry—’
‘Don’t—’
‘No ... I’m sorry about being such a terrible dick-head to you and Isabella. I’ve learnt my lesson.’ For once, he meant it.
‘That’s really sweet of you,’ she said. ‘And it’s all in the past. Let’s forget about it, OK?’ She smiled. ‘Looks like you’ve been through enough to last several lifetimes?’
‘Yeah,’ he said in as affected a way as he could achieve.
Sue remained sitting on the side of Archie’s bed. ‘You sure you don’t know where Gus is?’
‘Sorry, I’ve been asleep ... for hours, I think.’
‘And that ash. Any ideas? It’s like Mrs. Pye filled a bucket from the fire and dumped it over Isabella’s floor.’ She screwed her face up. ‘Weird, isn’t it? Thing is, I’m sure he came up here,’ she said, scrutinising Kemp’s body and the similar, strange-looking, dusty marks on him.
‘Oh well. Gus probably sneaked downstairs at some point.’ She looked into his eyes. ‘Why don’t you grab a bite in the kitchen – if you’re feeling strong enough – tell us about your adventures? Someone in the hospital told me all about you. They said it was a miracle you survived, said that you were the bravest person they’ve ever come across. There’s a pot of tea just brewed if you want.’
She turned and walked round the room, inspecting it. Then she headed off down the stairs, looking back at him before disappearing out of view.
Kemp forced a smile back, turned over and exhaled. Oh hell. Little did she know what was about to kick off in this game of survival!
Sue looked nice enough – exquisite, if he was honest – but the thought sucked on him like a leech that if Sue came with him to Havilah, he’d ruin her, like a group of school kids carving their names on a priceless artwork with penknives. Besides, wasn’t she just a little too old for him? Daisy would be a better bet, for sure, but how would that happen?
Kemp wanted to cry. He’d survived and found his mother, and he’d been prepared to die for that chance, so what was the point of throwing it all away now? But if he didn’t take Sue, then Gus would, because Gus loved her and was prepared to die for her.
And, he suspected, that if it came to a simple choice, Gus would indeed kill him.
So, Kemp thought, if he was to have his mother and a girl, it had to be Sue and therefore, Gus would have to die.
And when that happened, it would break her heart, and it would break his heart too.
‘YOU’RE STAYING HERE,’ a voice said, out of the blue.
Kemp sat bolt upright. ‘What? Cain? Is that you?’
‘I said, you’re staying.’
Kemp thought he’d mis-heard. ‘No, I am not. I need to get out of here, with you, now.’
‘A change of plan, boy,’ Cain responded. ‘You will stay here until the Heirs of Eden – your de Lowe chums –
either come out of there alive, or do not come out at all. You will prepare for a fight to the death with Gus. I cannot have both. There are fewer dreamspinners than Asgard thought.’
‘I want to go with you,’ Kemp implored. ‘Girl or not—’
Cain sucked in a breath. ‘You don’t want the “hot” girl?’
‘I didn’t say that.’
‘You implied it, boy.’
‘I never—’ Kemp thumped the pillow. ‘I don’t bleeding well know, do I?’
Cain’s presence loitered. ‘I sense confusion in your mind.’ He sniffed the air. ‘I sense that maybe you desire another. Perhaps it is the other Heir of Eden, Archie’s twin. Hmmm. It is a better choice, but, dear boy, have you forgotten? That the Heirs of Eden are about to die in the chamber of Blabisterberry Jelly in a quite horrible suffocating death.’ The ghost sighed. ‘You will fight Gus at the ruin and you will win because there is something I know that you do not.’
Kemp drew in a breath. ‘What?’
‘Even if the children come through, the final tablet of Eden rests within the rocks of the ancient building near this house.’
‘At the ruin? On top of the cliff?’ Kemp said. ‘But there’s nothing there—’
‘Beneath it,’ Cain cut in, ‘a structure is carved into its belly. Here, a beast has woken after a long, deep sleep. This beast, Gorialla Yingarna, the mother serpent, is my friend. We go back in time. She knows that the price of her freedom is the death of the Heirs of Eden.’
‘What do you propose to do with this monster-mate of yours?’
‘I cannot free it from its walls, for the ancient rules of the universe say that meddling directly with the Heirs of Eden and their quest will bring them immediate triumph. I do not wish to lose as I, like you, have a mother to save. That is why, secretly, I have chosen you to be with me, not that other boy. He doesn’t have the necessary charm nor your warped sense of justice. Furthermore, he is more afraid of killing you than you are of him.’
Kemp buzzed at the thought. But if the idea of battering Gus to death filled him with dread, goodness knows what kind of state of mind Gus must be in.
‘What’s your plan?’