Occasionally Louisa called out directions, but mostly she was silent as he navigated the bike. Her eyes searched the quiet medieval lanes that twisted and turned between high, stone walls, past churches with soaring steeples and the jagged spires of Oxford colleges.
She was hunting.
While Sacha could see only dark streets and bright lights, to her it was much more vivid and elemental – golden streams of alchemical power were everywhere, lighting up the night. It poured off the river, from the electricity wires, from the wind. The molecular energy was limitless and constant.
But it wasn’t alchemical power she sought. She was looking for Mortimer.
‘Where are we going?’ Sacha shouted to be heard over the noise of the engine.
‘Take a left ahead,’ she directed him. ‘Then turn right after St John’s.’
‘What’s St John’s?’ he shouted back.
Louisa winced. Of course he wouldn’t know even an obvious landmark. He hadn’t left the college since he arrived.
‘Never mind,’ she said. ‘I’ll direct you.’
He was a good driver, she thought, alert and focussed, even after everything that had happened today.
It felt good to be on a motorcycle again after all these years. To hear the wind whistling around them, feel the engine rumbling beneath her so that she felt almost part of it.
It reminded her of Tom and the squat in Liverpool. In a flash she could see it – the dirty walls, scrawled with meaningless graffiti, bare mattresses on the floor, lit by electricity powered with a wire strung illegally from a nearby flat. The place had been a firetrap. Cold in the winter, smelly and hot in the summer. But for her it was safety. Safety from the foster family that tormented her.
Tom’s motorcycle had represented freedom, and she’d loved riding it. She’d thought she was safe.
Then everything went wrong.
‘Which way?’ Sacha shouted.
Louisa blinked. They were nearing a junction. It took her a moment to get her bearings.
‘Turn right.’
She tried to sound authoritative but she was kicking herself. This day was getting to her. She had to be more focussed. What if she’d missed Mortimer back there while she was lost in the past?
The past doesn’t matter, she reminded herself. The past can’t hurt you, if you don’t let it. You stop the pain by forgetting.
She leaned forward studying the city with new intensity. The streets were largely empty at this hour, although occasionally they passed a nightclub, and Sacha would steer carefully around large clusters of students, dancing, shouting.
At one point, a bearded hipster in a flannel jacket lunged drunkenly towards them on a brightly lit corner, hands reaching out for the slow-moving motorcycle.
‘Fous-toi, salaud,’ Sacha growled.
His fierceness seemed to penetrate the haze of alcohol. The man backed off warily as the bike sped away.
‘I’m not even going to ask what you just called him,’ Louisa said dryly. ‘Turn left.’
Still grumbling under his breath, Sacha turned into the narrow, dark road she indicated.
There were fewer street lights here. Their headlight illuminated nothing but grey stone. Suddenly she knew right where they were, in the tangle of streets behind the Bodleian Library.
Louisa leaned forward, peering over Sacha’s shoulder, looking into the shadows.
That was when she sensed it. Unmistakeable and putrid.
Dark power.
Her breath caught.
‘Slow down.’
Responding instantly to the urgency in her voice, Sacha slowed the bike to a crawl.
‘Turn right.’ She closed her eyes, searching again for its source. It was hard to pin down. It was close and then far. Right around them and then gone.
It took her a moment to realise what it was.
He’s underground.
They had to get off the bike.
‘Park there.’ She pointed to a space where the wall was indented – forming the perfect hiding space.
Sacha cut the engine. Leaping nimbly from the bike, she pulled the helmet off in one smooth movement and set it on the ground. Strands of turquoise fell around her face and she shoved them back impatiently.
Her heart was pounding. She knew just where he was. His energy had led them straight to him.
I should call Alastair now, she thought, with a twinge of guilt. We can’t take him alone.
But she didn’t reach for her phone.
Ignoring the warning voices in her head that told her she shouldn’t be doing this alone, she strode to a low door tucked into the thick ivy covering a stone wall. It bore no number, but a symbol had been carved into the wood – a triangle with a circle inside it.
When she pressed her hand against the battered wood of the door, it swung open instantly.
She glanced back. Sacha was still astride his bike, the keys in his hand, watching her guardedly.
She was almost starting to like him. It had taken balls to stand up to her tonight, and even more nerve to leave the safety of the college and go out after the man who had already killed him once today.
Maybe she’d misjudged him. At any rate, she was about to find out.
‘He’s nearby. I can sense him,’ she said. ‘Are you in?’
For a split second he hesitated.
Then he climbed off the bike and set his helmet on the ground. She saw him rest his fingers reassuringly on the side of the sleek, black motorcycle.
Then he straightened, and followed her through the door into the unknown.
* * *
The door led to a stone staircase, which they followed down into a dark, narrow space. Water dripped somewhere in the distance, the air was dank and cool.
Louisa pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight. A tunnel sprang into view.
She looked around cautiously – but there was no immediate sign of Mortimer’s energy. Using her last sighting of it as a guide, she decided to turn right, towards the library.
‘This way,’ she whispered to Sacha, and her words echoed around her.
This way… way…
Every word was magnified. Each footstep reverberated off the ancient stone wall and ceiling. Even their breath seemed to reflect back at them – like the walls themselves were breathing.
‘Where are we?’ Sacha whispered.
She glanced at him.
‘Medieval tunnels.’
‘You think he’s down here?’
He sounded doubtful, and she couldn’t blame him. Now that they were here, she could find no hint of Dark power. In fact, she sensed nothing but the golden energy of water running beneath and around them.
Where was he? She’d been so certain.
‘Let’s go a little further,’ she said.
It wasn’t an answer, but he let it go.
Just ahead, the tunnel narrowed and Sacha dropped behind her. They walked for a while after that in silence. Then he spoke again, his voice low and serious.
‘Can I ask you a question?’
‘I can’t stop you.’
‘Why do you hate me?’
She kept walking. Were they really going to do this right now?
‘I don’t hate you,’ she said shortly.
‘Then why do you act like you do? This is the first time I can remember you not being a bitch to me. And I don’t know why. What did I do?’
Louisa stopped and swung around to face him.
‘Look, ki… Sacha. Sometimes you need to be a bitch to stay alive.’ Her voice echoed back at her off the stone.
Alive, alive…
Sacha looked at her earnestly.
‘I am not your enemy, Louisa. I’m on your side. Or at least, I’m trying to be. If you’d let me.’
Closing her eyes, Louisa sought scraps of patience.
‘I don’t hate you,’ she said. ‘I really don’t. When we first met, I guess maybe I blamed you for all of this.’ She gestured at the tunnel around th
em, the light from her phone swinging wildly. ‘But I shouldn’t have. I know that’s not fair.’
It was as close as she ever got to apologising. Being sorry made her skin crawl.
But he didn’t know her well enough to hear it as an apology. He stared into the darkness at the end of the tunnel.
‘I blame myself, too.’
He said it so quietly, his words were nearly lost behind the dripping water and the sound of their breathing.
‘I wish there was something I could do to stop this,’ he continued, not meeting her eyes. ‘I’d give myself up to Mortimer right now if it meant Taylor would live and this would be over. But it wouldn’t, would it?’
He glanced up at her.
‘No,’ she admitted. ‘It wouldn’t.’
‘So. All I can do is what I’m doing.’ His voice held a weary maturity beyond his seventeen years. ‘I want to live, Louisa. I want Taylor to live. And all of you. I want to fight with you. But if you decide you still hate me, I can’t blame you.’
Caught off guard, Louisa struggled to think of something to say. Taking her silence as condemnation, he walked past her into the shadowy tunnel, his shoulders slumping.
‘Forget it.’
She ran after him, raising her voice. ‘Hey ki… I mean… Sacha. Look. I’m sorry. Wait up.’
She found him some metres ahead. He’d stopped next to an ancient wooden door.
‘Hey. I didn’t mean…’ she began.
Then she felt it. Very faint, from the other side of that door. But unmistakeable.
All thoughts of apologising evaporated.
‘He’s here.’
Pressing the palm of her hand flat against the door Louisa closed her eyes and concentrated. On the other side she could sense the energy of electricity in the walls, running water beneath her feet, molecules of air. No alchemists. No people.
But something dark and dangerous lingered there.
Adrenaline raced into her veins like fire.
I’ve got you, you bastard.
With delicate precision, she urged the tumblers in the lock to turn.
The door opened with a groan.
After the damp tunnel, the room on the other side seemed to shimmer like a mirage. It was warm and dry. Expensive looking rugs lay scattered on the stone floor. All of it was illuminated in the soft glow of modern wall sconces.
She saw Sacha’s jaw drop.
It was time to call Alastair.
But when Louisa held up her phone, there was no signal.
Of course, she thought, her heart sinking. We’re underground.
They were going to have to do this alone.
Putting her phone away, she stood in the doorway, scouring the air, the walls, everything for Dark power. It was there, but faint.
Stepping inside, she motioned for Sacha to follow. ‘Come on.’
The tunnel was wider on this side. Their footsteps were soundless on the thick pile of the rugs. Doors led off here and there – Louisa paused for a moment outside each one, and then moved on.
She kept losing all sign of the energy, and then finding it again, always faint. As if it was flickering.
It was odd. Dark power shouldn’t work like that.
Doubt made her stomach curdle. This didn’t feel right.
But what if this was just a matter of distance? They were still underground. What if he was above them? The levels of earth and rock between them could be making his energy impossible to read.
They needed to go up.
She began to run.
‘Wait,’ Sacha hissed, scrambling to keep up. She could see the bewilderment in his expression. ‘What is this place? Are we back at St Wilfred’s?’
‘This is the Bodleian Library,’ she told him, without slowing her pace.
‘Why does a library need tunnels?’
She didn’t have time for this.
‘Do I look like a bloody librarian?’
They’d reached the door to the stairwell. Louisa stopped, pressing her fingers against it.
‘Nothing in Oxford is what it seems,’ she said. ‘I thought you’d have noticed that by now.’
She shoved the door so hard it thudded against the wall. Ahead, a utilitarian staircase spiralled up. The only light came from the watery green glow of fire escape signs at each level.
In the hollow silence, Louisa kept trying to sense Mortimer. If he was in this building, he’d know she was here, the same way she knew he was here. She had to find him fast.
But his energy was still ephemeral – as if flitting in and out of the building. It didn’t make sense. He couldn’t be here and not be here at the same time.
At least she’d been right about the layers of earth separating them. She could sense the Dark energy more clearly now. They were getting closer. Too close.
She felt jittery, excited, scared. She shouldn’t be doing this. She should have called St Wilfred’s when she first got off the bike. Now her phone had no signal and it was too late for anyone to get here in time anyway.
The thought made her chest muscles tighten. She’d seen what Mortimer could do. She didn’t think she’d win this fight.
That didn’t mean she’d back down.
When they reached the ground floor, she shoved open another door. The room on the other side was huge – ceilings soared above row after row of towering shelves stacked with hundreds of thousands – maybe millions – of books.
Mortimer wasn’t there.
Turning towards Sacha, Louisa pointed to a fire exit on the opposite side of the room.
‘Look,’ she whispered rapidly. ‘He’s close. It’s too late to get help. There’s a good chance Mortimer will kill me before I can kill him. You can’t fight him. I think you should go now. Get back to St Wilfred’s.’
His face hardened. ‘No.’
‘Sacha…’
‘Do you actually believe I’d leave you alone with him?’ His lips tightened. ‘I’m staying.’
She really had misjudged him all along.
‘Well, I guess you’re as stupid as I am,’ she said.
It was a compliment. And to his credit, he knew it.
‘I guess I am. Hey, let’s go down fighting.’ His grin was rakish. ‘I always wanted to say that just before a fight. Let’s go down fighting, Louisa.’
‘If it’s all the same to you, I’d prefer to win.’ She pointed to a long, dark corridor that exited the big room on their right. ‘If you’re not leaving, we need to go that way.’
They took off at speed. The hallway was lined on either side by offices. As they ran, she caught glimpses of tables in dark polished wood, towering bookcases, office chairs.
There was no time to look more closely, because she could feel the Dark energy all around them. From the strength of it, Mortimer should be right in front of them. But she couldn’t see anything.
‘Where is he?’ Sacha whispered, as if reading her thoughts. ‘Are we close?’
At that moment, the door next to them crashed open and a huge man stepped directly into their path.
‘Yeah,’ Louisa said. ‘We’re close.’
Her voice was calm but her heart was in her throat. The man was enormous. And he was suffused with Dark power.
They backpedalled wildly. Sacha swore, stumbling in his haste.
The creature must have been seven feet tall, with shoulders so broad he filled the entire doorway in which he stood. He wore all black. Louisa barely had time to take him in. In the shadows and chaos, she thought she saw strange symbols in the flesh of his neck and arms.
That was all she had time to observe before, with a roar, he turned on them.
She shoved Sacha with all her strength.
‘Run.’
Twelve
Louisa’s push sent Sacha sprawling out of the way, just as the creature reached for him with its huge, meaty hands.
By the time he’d scrambled to his feet, bewildered, the library had turned into a scene from a nightmare. Louisa darted
back and forth across the shadows – a flash of blue, luring the huge creature (Because it was a creature, wasn’t it? It couldn’t be a man. Not looking like that…) away from Sacha.
‘I’m the one you want,’ she shouted at it, whenever its attention turned towards him for even an instant. ‘Come get me.’
She held out her hand, focussing. Sacha couldn’t see it, but he knew she was trying to summon alchemical energy to fight it.
The thing paused for a second, shuddering. Then, as Sacha watched, horrified, its gaping mouth curved into an awful smile. It swung at her with such force he could hear its fist whistling through the air.
Louisa dropped to the ground, rolling out of reach, springing to her feet some distance away, and held out her hand again, her face pure concentration.
Ignoring her, the thing turned towards Sacha. Swallowing hard he raised his fists, but his hands suddenly seemed like such tiny, feeble things compared to the creature’s giant swollen appendages.
For a moment they locked eyes. Sacha thought he saw something like recognition in that grotesquely swollen face.
And hunger.
‘Oi!’ At the other end of the corridor, Louisa waved her arms wildly. ‘Over here, thicko.’
In his fear and confusion, for a split second Sacha thought she was talking to him.
With an inhuman snarl, the thing lumbered heavily towards her. Each footstep seemed to shake the building on its foundation.
Again she waited, focussing her power. Again it shuddered. Then its huge fist swung towards her, faster than before. More viciously. At the last possible moment, she ducked.
Only this time she waited too long. Its fist connected with her shoulder. The force of the blow flung her into the air so hard she hit the wall before sprawling on the floor near where Sacha stood midway down the corridor.
As the creature paused, staring stupidly at the space where she’d been moments before, Sacha raced to Louisa’s side.
‘Are you OK?’
‘Bloody hell,’ she said, rubbing her shoulder. ‘What is that thing?’
‘I don’t know.’ He helped her to her feet. ‘But I think it recognised me. Let’s go in here.’
Together, they ducked into a dark doorway.
The Secret City Page 8
