What he was doing wasn’t possible.
‘Bloody hell,’ she breathed, and sought all the power she could find. The muscles on her arms bulged from the strain. Next to her, Alastair was fighting to retain control. For the first time it really struck home: maybe they wouldn’t get through this after all.
Everybody was struggling, and the man across the street knew it – a look of triumph filled his face. He raised the writhing cane higher.
Louisa’s chest tightened as she stared at the serpent in his hand, its mouth opening, fangs extending, long and deadly…
That was when Taylor stepped forward to join the line.
Six
At first, Taylor had set out to do as Louisa ordered. She stood back and watched the battle from safety. She stared in awe as the power flew between the two sides, flashes of molecular energy that left electrical burns hanging in the air like gun smoke.
As the fight intensified, the line had shifted, and suddenly she had a clear view across the street. She found herself staring at the man opposite. She couldn’t tear her eyes away. He looked strangely familiar but she couldn’t place him.
He was looking fixedly at Louisa now, and raising the cane, which seemed to writhe in his hand, like a snake.
But that wasn’t possible, was it?
Taylor took a step forward. Then another.
His gaze shifted towards her. She saw his face register her – recognising her with a curious mix of glee and venomous loathing.
Only then did she feel the full, sinking impact of his Dark power. A freight train of soul-destroying hate.
She took a sharp breath. Before she could duck, hide – do something to escape that awful gaze – he directed the serpentine cane at her.
The oxygen left the air. Her heart slowed, each beat becoming heavy and painful.
Somehow she knew this was Dark power. Knew she should be fighting it. But she was drawn inexorably towards him. The man held out one hand in invitation. The other held the snake, its glinting eyes glowing red in the smoky light.
This way, it seemed to say. You’ll be fine here. This way.
Her mind shut down. She needed to be with him. Her feet took her to him.
The man’s eyes were locked on her. He ignored the other alchemists. She was his prize.
Some part of her still knew this. And yet she couldn’t stop.
She was close now. She took another step. And another.
‘Taylor!’ Out of nowhere, Sacha shot through the line of alchemists, grabbing her around the waist with both arms, pulling her back. ‘What the hell are you doing?’
For a blank, confused moment she wondered what he was talking about. Then, with visceral shock, she registered two things at the precise same time – first, the panic in the faces of the assembled alchemists as they trained their energies to shield her from Dark power; and, secondly, that she was standing at the edge of the street.
Sacha didn’t wait for her to process this. Grabbing her hand, he dragged her back behind the line. Only when they were safe, did he let her go. His confused blue eyes searched her face.
‘What the hell was that? What were you thinking, Taylor?’
Taylor shook her head, clearing the fog of Dark power. ‘I don’t know,’ she said defensively. ‘He did something to me. I can’t…’ She stared at him in sudden realisation. ‘Are you OK? Where have you been?’
‘Looking for you!’ he replied, with a burst of frustration. ‘I didn’t know what was happening or how to get back or where you were. It was terrible.’
In the stress of the moment, his French accent thickened, and he had to search for the English words. The vulnerability of that pierced Taylor’s heart.
‘I’m sorry,’ she said with real remorse. ‘We were looking for you, too. It all happened so fast.’
In the distance, she heard police sirens heading towards them. This fight needed to end, fast, or normal people were going to get caught up in it.
‘What’s happening?’ Sacha asked, his brow creasing as he looked from the Dark practitioner to the line in front of them. ‘Who is that guy and why aren’t they fighting him?’
At first, Taylor was baffled that he would ask a question with such an obvious answer. Then she remembered he couldn’t see the golden strands of energy duelling with the heavy Dark power – no normal person could see that. To him, it was just two lines of people, glaring at each other.
Quickly she described what was happening. The alchemists were pulling molecules of energy from everywhere. The air. The trees. The electrical wires overhead shuddered from the force of it. The Dark practitioner was sending a wall of viscous Dark power in return.
‘I can smell it,’ Sacha said, shuddering. ‘It smells like death.’
‘It is death,’ Taylor told him.
‘Who’s winning?’ he asked.
Taylor turned to look at the line of alchemists standing shoulder-to-shoulder. ‘It’s like they’re equal. One of him. Against all of us.’
As if he’d heard her pessimistic assessment, the dean shouted encouragement to the line, and they redoubled their efforts. The Dark practitioner took a stumbling step backwards under the force of their attack.
‘Wait, I think they’ve got him,’ Taylor said excitedly, leaning forward to see what was happening.
The alchemists’ combined power was blinding. The dean stood at the centre of them all, tall and slim, directing huge power across the road. Taylor couldn’t imagine how the man was withstanding it.
Then the Dark practitioner spoke.
‘This is just the beginning. You know me, Jonathan. You know what I’m capable of. I will destroy everything you care about.’ His voice was ordinary, and somehow that made what he was saying even more disturbing. ‘End this before it’s too late. Give me the boy and I’ll leave you in peace.’
Taylor’s heart jumped to her throat. She felt Sacha stiffen.
The dean kept his eyes fixed on his opponent. When he spoke, Taylor heard uncharacteristic fury in his reply.
‘You will never take him. And you will not destroy us.’ He took a step forward, his eyes flashing. ‘I know who you are, now. It is you who will be destroyed, Mortimer. You will be punished for what you’ve done.’
Mortimer? Taylor thought, her brow creasing. And the man had called Jones by his first name.
They know each other.
The Dark practitioner gave a low, humourless chuckle.
‘Oh, Jonathan. I almost wish for your sake that was true. But I have much greater power now than you can imagine. I will have what I want. The costs no longer matter.’
As he spoke, the line shifted just a little. In the confusion, no one noticed a break had appeared. Quick as a whip, the man raised his cane and channelled Dark power in through the crevice. There was only a second, but that was all it took.
Realising their mistake, the alchemists rushed to seal the break. But they weren’t fast enough.
An arrow of Dark power shot straight through, with tremendous speed.
To Sacha, it was invisible. He alone had no warning. No time to duck.
‘Sacha!’ Taylor lunged towards him.
She was too late.
It hit Sacha like a fist of iron. She watched in horror as his body flew through the air, landing with a sickening thud on the stone walkway at the edge of the quad.
For a split second, Taylor couldn’t move. Her feet seemed melded to the ground.
As if from far away, she noticed that the Dark practitioner was no longer standing across the street. She could hear the others exclaiming. Looking for him.
And then she was running.
She was vaguely aware of noises around her. Of someone hurrying after her. Calling her name. The first police cars screeching to a stop at the gate.
But she didn’t look back. She threw herself to her knees beside Sacha’s crumpled body.
‘Sacha,’ she whispered, her voice thin and airless. ‘Sacha, no.’
His head was
twisted at an unnatural angle. His eyes, open and sightless, stared over her shoulder. His skin was a bloodless grey; his lips faded to blue.
He was dead.
* * *
Shivering, she knelt down on the walkway in the shade of the ancient building, Sacha’s hand cold and lifeless in hers.
‘Is he hurt?’ Panting, Louisa dropped to her knees next to her.
‘He’s dead.’ Taylor’s voice was dull.
‘Dead?’ Louisa stared in disbelief. ‘He can’t be dead.’
Reaching across Sacha’s body, she grabbed his other hand, pressing her fingers hard to the inside of his wrist.
There was a pause.
She dropped his hand abruptly. It landed on his chest with a hollow thump Taylor felt in her own heart.
‘Don’t do that,’ she snapped, straightening his hand gently to what looked like a more comfortable position. ‘He’ll be fine.’
‘Fine?’ Louisa’s voice rose. ‘How can he be… Oh.’
Realisation dawned in her eyes.
There was a pause.
‘So… What happens next?’ Louisa asked carefully. ‘Does he just… wake up?’
Taylor squeezed Sacha’s hand. ‘Yes. Kind of.’
Louisa stared down at him doubtfully. It struck Taylor that, even though she understood the curse, it still wasn’t truly real to her. How could it be? Even Taylor found herself doubting it would really happen. That he’d really come back.
No breath lifted Sacha’s chest. No red tinged his skin. His heart didn’t beat. Everything that was Sacha had stopped.
She took a deep, steadying breath.
‘He’ll be fine,’ she said again, reassuring herself.
‘What’s happened?’ Dean Wentworth-Jones walked up behind Louisa and stared down at the damaged boy at his feet. ‘We’ve lost Mortimer. What’s wrong with him? Is he hurt?’
Louisa stood and dusted her hands against her shorts. She looked dazed.
‘He’s dead.’
‘Dead?’ The dean sounded shocked.
‘He’ll come back,’ Louisa reminded the dean, although her words lacked conviction.
Taylor didn’t want to hear the discussion of doubt and analysis that would inevitably follow. She felt oddly protective of Sacha.
‘Could you just… leave us alone?’ she asked.
‘I beg your pardon?’ The dean stared down at her with an expression of deep disapproval.
‘This is kind of private,’ she said, standing her ground. ‘Could you go talk somewhere else?’
Jones looked at Louisa as if she could explain Taylor’s behaviour, but the blue-haired girl just shrugged.
‘I think not,’ he said finally.
Taylor had never considered that he might refuse. Unconsciously, her fingers tightened around Sacha’s cool, unresponsive hand.
She turned to look up at Jones. He was so tall, she had to twist her neck to see his long, aquiline face, narrow and (it seemed to her) arrogant.
‘Excuse me?’ she said.
‘I believe it would be beneficial if we were to see how the process works.’ The dean’s tone was firm, clinical and void of any empathy. ‘I think some of the others should see this as well. My assistant can handle the authorities. And Mortimer appears to have fled.’
Looking back towards the line, he motioned for someone’s attention.
‘Alastair,’ he called. ‘Come quickly, please.’
Taylor shot Louisa a furious look, but the other girl shook her head. The dean made the rules.
A fire truck had now pulled up, and was unfurling a long length of hose to spray the smouldering ruins of the building. The police were talking to a group of professors, who seemed to be explaining what had happened, no doubt making it sound like a disastrous – but perfectly unsuspicious – accident of some sort.
Alastair galloped across the courtyard to join them, his shock of blond hair backlit to gold by the late afternoon sun. His face was ruddy from the fight.
‘What’s up?’ he asked, looking from the dean to Louisa.
‘I thought you should see this.’ The dean nodded at Sacha’s body. ‘The boy’s died. And we’re waiting for him to come back to… well, life.’
Taylor turned away, so she didn’t see how Alastair received this news. But she heard it.
‘Dead? Oh Christ.’ Alastair knelt next to Sacha’s body, across from Taylor. Carefully, he lifted Sacha’s hand to feel the lack of pulse for himself. Finding nothing he set the hand back where it had been with great care. His face crumpled.
‘Dammit, Sacha,’ he said. ‘What the hell?’
‘He’ll be fine. Or so I’m told.’ The dean seemed impatient with Alastair’s display of emotion.
But the graduate student ignored him and looked across the motionless torso to Taylor.
‘Will he really be OK?’
He looked scared, and she was touched by his gentleness, and by how genuinely upset he seemed. Out of everyone, he was the only one who’d reacted as she thought they should.
‘I think so,’ she said. Her throat was dry – her voice emerged raspy and afraid.
‘How long will it be?’ he asked. ‘Before he comes… back?’
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘It changes, each time. It’s getting longer. Last time it seemed to take forever.’
‘That is most unfortunate.’ The dean looked back towards the gate. ‘The police and fire departments are here and we don’t want them to notice this little situation.’
Little situation?
Taylor fought the urge to tell the dean exactly what she thought of him; but before she could say a single word, Alastair distracted her.
‘How does it work?’ he asked, drawing her attention back to Sacha. ‘Does it hurt?’
Biting her lip, she nodded. ‘I think it’s very painful. That’s one of the worst parts of it.’
‘Shit.’ He rocked back on his heels. ‘That wasn’t what I wanted to hear.’
Alastair swore a lot – it was one of the things Sacha liked best about him. The two of them were always hanging around together. Alastair had taken Sacha under his wing from the start and, to Taylor’s surprise, Sacha hadn’t seemed to mind. In fact, she got the impression Sacha was starting to see him as a surrogate big brother.
He’d even started swearing in English from time to time.
‘We’re here for you, Sacha,’ he said now, resting one hand on his shoulder. ‘We won’t leave you…’
At that moment, Sacha’s body arched backwards with such violence, Alastair gave a startled cry, snatching his hand away.
‘It’s beginning,’ Taylor said grimly.
They watched with horrified fascination as Sacha’s figure contorted, arching one way and then another. His body made awful wheezing gasps as his lungs struggled to fill. His long, slim fingers clawed at the stone beneath him. The lids of his eyes squeezed shut, his lashes black as coal against his dust-white skin.
‘Bloody hell.’ There was shock in Louisa’s voice.
A second later, Sacha’s eyes sprang open, brighter now, and staring at Taylor with sudden recognition. He opened his mouth so say something just as another spasm racked him and his face grimaced with pain.
‘Dear God,’ the dean murmured, moved, despite himself, to care.
Taylor had seen this process before but this, if anything, was worse than last time. She covered her mouth with her fingers, willing him to breathe, to live.
‘Merde,’ Sacha groaned, before adding with breathless lack of believability, ‘Sorry. I’m… fine.’
Taylor wanted to speak, but her voice refused to work properly and the words she longed to say came out as a wisp of breath.
Across from her, Alastair’s face looked pale and horrified. Louisa was speechless for the first time since Taylor had known her.
Sacha’s body arched backwards again, further than seemed physically possible and then jerked forward forcefully, with a suddenness that made them all jump, until he was si
tting bolt upright.
Sweat covered his face, and colour had flooded back into his cheeks.
Please let that be the end, Taylor silently begged whatever demon or deity was doing this to him. Please stop.
Whether or not her internal prayer was behind it, Sacha took a deep, shuddering breath, and turned towards her.
‘Taylor?’ His voice was hoarse. ‘Are you OK?’
Relief flooded through her. She threw herself across to him and took his hand in hers. It was warm.
‘Am I OK? I can’t believe you’d even ask that,’ she said, smiling through unshed tears. ‘You nearly… You died.’
‘I know. That old bastard killed me.’ Rubbing the back of his neck, Sacha turned to Alastair. ‘Who was that? And what the hell did he hit me with? It felt like a tank.’
‘That was Dark power.’ It was the dean who answered. ‘And it is very interesting to me that you survived. It would have killed any one of the rest of us in an instant. This proves you cannot be killed by any means. Even Dark power.’
Turning, he motioned crisply to Louisa and Alastair.
‘We have much work to do. Everything is moving very quickly now. Come with me.’
Seven
‘Are you really fine?’ Taylor studied Sacha doubtfully. His skin was still unhealthily pale and, with his hair greyed by dust and soot, he looked ghost-like.
‘I’m really fine,’ he insisted.
The others had hustled off in the direction of the dean’s offices; the rest of the professors were dealing with the fire department. Sacha and Taylor walked slowly across the empty college. His usual cool slouch was absent, and it seemed to her he moved with caution – testing each step as if afraid to find the ground unsteady.
‘Maybe you should see a doctor – get checked out,’ she suggested.
He shot her a look of withering disbelief.
She capitulated. ‘Fine. Forget it. No doctors. Sorry I mentioned it.’
‘Look,’ he said, ‘I’m just thirsty. Dying always makes me thirsty. Let’s go get something to drink.’
Taylor knew they should be going back to their rooms – before she’d gone, Louisa had admonished them both to get inside right away. But she didn’t argue with him.
The Secret City Page 4
