by Teri Terry
And what about Nico? If I tell him about Coulson, he’ll know what to do. But what will he make of me leaving that drawing where it could be found in the first place? Coulson said he was watching me already. Perhaps my slip-up tipped us off, put us in a stronger position: now, at least, I know I’m being watched. But somehow I doubt Nico will see it that way.
Nico goes past in the hall when I am changing classes that morning. He tilts his head slightly, then walks on towards his office. He wants me to follow.
Does he somehow know what happened yesterday, already? Indecision and fear hold me still.
Better to know.
I check no one is watching and knock once on his office door. It opens and he pulls me inside, shuts it again.
‘Rain! How are you?’ He is grinning.
‘Uh, fine.’
‘I’ve got a surprise for you. Don’t look so alarmed! You’ll like it,’ he says, and there is nothing in his eyes to alarm, yet I am.
‘What is it?’
He shakes his head. ‘Not so fast. First we’re going on a road trip at lunch today.’
‘Where to?’
‘Wait and see, impatient Rain. Wait and see.’ And he tells me where to walk out of the grounds at lunch, where he’ll pick me up.
‘What about my afternoon classes?’
‘Give me your ID at lunch and I’ll sort it. No one will notice.’
When the lunch bell goes I head through the side gate, and rush down the road. As I hurry along I wonder why I’m even going. If he knows, this is dangerous. If he doesn’t, I should tell him. Either way I’m in deep trouble. Yet somehow, even as I’m wondering if I should turn around, my feet take me to our meeting point. Somehow I can’t not do what he says.
When I reach the bend he described I barely have time to take a breath when his car appears, and stops. The passenger door opens. I get in.
Soon we’re off the main road, twisting down single-lane tracks, overgrown and unfamiliar. Nico remains silent. My stomach twists, inside. Maybe this is all just about getting me out somewhere quiet, alone, to deal with.
‘We’re nearly there,’ he says, but all I can see are trees and more trees. The track narrows until the car barely fits along, and he stops. Nothing in sight. He points out an almost invisible path hidden in the undergrowth. ‘You’ll find answers to why I brought you here about a ten-minute walk that way. I’ll come later.’
He reaches for my school ID where it hangs around my neck, and pulls it over my head; his warm fingers brush my face. ‘Go on. Take care,’ he says.
After I get out he starts reversing back down the lane, and the further away he gets, the more I can breathe.
I hesitate, but there is nothing for it. Is there?
I walk under the trees, along the faint path. Careful, quiet, slow; not sure what lies in wait. Having to concentrate to not lose the way.
With Nico long ago we did all sorts of deep-woods training, like how to move through undergrowth and make no noise. How to mark or follow a path no one else will see. Here, there are only faint bends in plants to mark the way, at irregularly spaced intervals. Once I lose track and have to go back.
Out of practice.
Yes. And I wonder if I’m walking into one of Nico’s traps. Take care, he said: what did he mean? He used to test us, introduce unexpected dangers. Maybe he is checking to see if I am still up for it?
As I get close to ten minutes’ walk I double off the path and back, in loops. Creeping and checking as I go forward.
It is on one such diversion that I see a small clearing. To one side, under overhanging trees, a green tarp and loose branches cover something bulky. And to the other side, someone is waiting, sitting on a stump, watching the path where I should have emerged. He glances down at a watch. Wondering where I am?
I blink, and again. My eyes feel wrong. Like I’m wide-eyed awake and in deep sleep at the same time; standing here, and lost in a dream – or a nightmare. Goosebumps creep up my arms and spine. The back of this head is familiar, so familiar. His dark hair is long now; his shoulders are broader. My heart is beating fast. Wondering is it really him, and who is he, all at the same time. I step forward, hesitant, not looking where I place my feet. A twig snaps.
He whips round at the sound. Eyes widen, and he stares for one beat, two. Emotion crosses his face, too fast to identify; he shakes himself. ‘Well, I don’t flipping believe it. Rain?’ A scowl covers his face, one I’d nearly forgotten, but now it is stark in my memories. The jagged knife scar down the right cheek has faded little since I last saw it, and prompts memory to whisper the name he chose for himself.
‘Hello, Katran.’
‘I never thought I’d see you again.’ His jaw is clenched; a little muscle twitches up the side of his face.
‘That makes two of us. Nico didn’t tell me you’d be here.’
‘Same. He just told me to meet someone. What rock did he find you under? I thought you were Slated.’
I hold up my wrist, pull the sleeve back. Levo in place.
‘Shouldn’t you be blacking out at the mere sight of my handsome face?’ He smiles.
‘I hate to disappoint you, but you’re not that frightening. Besides, this thing doesn’t work.’ I spin it on my wrist.
‘Aren’t you the special one.’
I glare. Echoes of past taunts burn in my ears. Rain is too special to come with us; Rain is too special for this; Rain is too special to do that. It’s coming back: Nico stopped me from going with my cell a lot of the time. Until – I frown. The memory is gone.
‘Come on. Best get going.’
‘To where?’
He doesn’t answer; pulls the tarp up. Underneath are trail bikes. ‘Remember how?’ he says, challenge in his voice.
‘Try and keep up,’ I say, and take off ahead of him up the path. It is rough and bouncy; not great with yesterday’s bruises, but I don’t care. It is like flying! Faster than Katran: this is all that matters.
Before long I get to a fork in the path and I wait to see the way. He takes off past me to the left, then soon slows, crosses a rocky creek. We get off and push the bikes through dense trees. And there is a house. It looks a ruin from the outside, and would from the air: ugly, crumbling concrete, decades old. Pre-riot it looks, but not by much. There is a track road to one side of it.
‘A safe house?’ I ask. Free UK have them all over the country, in unexpected places. To hide both people and weapons.
He nods.
‘Why am I here?’
‘Nico knows,’ he says, his words an old expression, familiar yet forgotten until he said them. ‘But he told me to leave you alone for a while with our latest recruit.’
‘Who?’
He rolls his eyes. ‘Princess Pea.’
We hide the bikes under trees. ‘Watch it: there’s a tripwire all around,’ Katran says, and points out the almost invisible wire set to warn the house if any uninvited guests come by.
We step over it and to the front of the house. And there, lounging on a deckchair in the late-autumn sunshine, is Tori.
Tori, a recruit? I can feel my mouth hanging open and shut it. When Nico said he had somewhere to stash her I never thought he meant this. That she was to be one of us.
Katran takes off, muttering something about finding his group. Leaving us alone. From his backwards glance and Tori’s icy look I get the feeling they don’t get along.
‘So. How’re things?’ I ask, finally breaking the silence.
‘All right.’ She stares back, eyes unreadable, long enough for it to be uncomfortable. She finally stands and picks up a box of throwing knives. ‘Come on,’ she says. ‘There are some targets. I hear you’re good at this.’
We walk around the back of the house; a tree behind has faintly marked rings. I
draw a knife out of the box, the weight and feel in my hand so sure, so familiar. It prompts a memory of winning a throwing competition, beating Katran. I smile. ‘Knives are my speciality,’ I say.
‘I always knew there was more to you than met the eye, Kyla. But I don’t understand who you are.’
‘Neither do I!’ I laugh. ‘But I’m not Kyla, not here. I’m Rain. Who are you?’
She rolls her eyes. ‘They said pick a name from something around, but I wasn’t quick enough, and that jerk started calling me Princess Pea.’ She scowls. ‘It seems to have stuck.’
We flick knives at the targets.
‘Are things all right here?’ I ask Tori, watching her carefully with one eye while pretending to concentrate on the target.
‘Yes. It’s great!’ She scowls. ‘Apart from the name.’
‘Princess, I get. But why Pea?’
‘I complained about things when I got here a few days ago,’ she admits, sheepish look on her face. ‘Katran said I was like a princess whining about a pea under her mattress.’
‘But it’s all right now?’
She smiles. ‘Out here, middle of nothing and nowhere, you can do and say what you like. Scream if you want! No one cares, no Lorders.’ She hefts a knife in her hand. ‘I can look at that target, and whoever I like is there. Mum.’ She throws the knife. Thud: perfect shot. ‘Or a Lorder.’ She throws another, but it is off centre. She clucks, annoyed.
We walk to the tree, pull the knives out and walk back again. ‘Try standing further away this time,’ I suggest, and we move back. ‘Any particular Lorder? Planning revenge?’
‘Too late for that, he’s already dead.’ She throws a knife, but distracted, it wobbles, misses the target. She curses. Tries again and hits dead centre.
‘You never told me what happened.’
We go back to the tree, pull our knives out. Instead of walking back she sits down, leans against it and closes her eyes.
I follow. She is silent.
‘Tori?’
‘You’re not supposed to use that name here. I’m not her any more. Too many bad things happened to her. I’m leaving them behind.’
She leans forward, pulls out a blade of grass and tears it into little pieces. ‘You know the start. I was taken. In the night, from my sleep. Hauled off by Lorders. They wouldn’t say why.’ She sighs. ‘I was taken to a place with other Slateds. There were half a dozen of us. So scared. Never heard so many Levos buzzing at once. One of the Lorders read out something about how we had violated our contracts, but they wouldn’t let us say anything. And then…’ She stops, her face twisting.
‘Don’t tell me if you don’t want to.’
‘They were killed,’ she whispers.
‘What?’
‘Terminated. By injection. And dumped in a hole in the ground, like rubbish. Of course by the time one was dead most of the others had blacked out so they didn’t know what happened to them.’
You guess these things, what happens to people who disappear. But to hear someone who knows, who saw it happen? I feel sick.
‘But what about you?’
‘I was last. I didn’t black out. After, I wished I had.’ She gives a thin smile. ‘I got given an injection. I struggled and kicked, but they still got it in. But it wasn’t what the others got. It was Happy Juice.’
‘What? I don’t understand.’
‘I didn’t, either. Then one of the Lorders snuck me out in his car.’
Rescued, by a Lorder? Unbelievable. But when she said it, her eyes narrowed.
‘Why?’
‘At first, I thought he had a conscience. Wanted to save me, though why me and not any of the others I couldn’t understand. He hid me in his house, and had a doctor come and take off my Levo. That was so amazing! And he gave me stuff. Clothes, nice things. Treated me like a daughter.’ Her face turns away. ‘But it was all a lie. He was a total sicko. The things he did. Just little things at first, then worse and worse. I won’t tell you what, I can’t.’
Oh, Tori. Her face, even filled with hate as it is now, is flawless. The same beauty that may be why her mother returned her has hurt her in ways she can’t say, that I can’t bear to even think about. I hold out my hand, and she grips it. Holds on tight.
‘And then, one day, I took my chance. I stopped fighting. Pretended to go along with him, with the things he wanted me to do. Then, when he was…distracted, I killed him.’
She lets go of my hand and picks up one of the knives, runs her finger lightly across the blade. ‘It wasn’t as sharp as this. A dinner knife. Messy, and slow. He suffered, and I was glad.’
She looks up again. ‘Then I ran away. Didn’t think I’d get far, didn’t care. Was going to kill myself so they couldn’t do it to me when they caught up. To take that away from them, you know? But then realised I wanted to see Ben before I died.’ Her eyes fill with tears.
My insides clench. If she knows of my involvement in Ben’s disappearance, the knife won’t stay in her hand.
She grips the handle so tight her knuckles turn white. ‘I didn’t want to talk about this. Do you know why I’ve told you?’
My mouth is dry, my body prepared to react, to defend myself if necessary. ‘Why?’
‘Nico asked me to.’
I relax, just a little. Is this the real reason why he brought me here? Why would he do that?
‘I had to tell him,’ she says. ‘He insisted he had to know what happened to let me stay. He got more out of me than I thought I’d ever say out loud.’
‘He’s got a way of doing that,’ I say.
She nods, a half-smile on her lips as she thinks of Nico, and his ways. Jealousy twists inside.
Then her smile falls away. ‘And, in return, he told me that Ben cut off his Levo, and that Lorders took him. I was too late. He’s probably in a hole in the ground someplace like those other Slateds.’
Her head drops to her knees, her arms wrapped around them tight. Her body shakes with sobs and I slip an arm across her shoulders. I should tell her Ben has been spotted. But I don’t. Is it because it isn’t definite, it might not be him? To protect Aiden? Or some darker reason. I’m not sure.
She lifts her head, wipes her face on her sleeve. Looks up and smiles.
‘But now I’m in Free UK, and I’m going to kill more Lorders. And that is why I like it here.’ She jumps to her feet. ‘Come on. I need to practise.’
And practise she does. She has a good eye, and it is seeing Lorder blood.
CHAPTER TWENTY THREE
* * *
Tori holds the pistol in both hands. Takes careful aim, and pulls the trigger.
The bottle explodes as her arms jerk back with the recoil.
She raises a fist in triumph. ‘At last!’ She is a wild shot, not a natural like with knives, and this session has been long, frustrating, and occasionally dangerous. We’re both laughing when we turn and realise Nico is there, watching.
‘Bravo!’ he says, and Tori flushes with pleasure. And I wonder in annoyance if he saw any of the previous dozen shots that missed?
Nico tosses my school ID at me; I catch it.
‘Did everything go all right with this?’ I ask, and slip it back around my neck.
‘Of course. You were in every class as required, or so the school computer will insist if anyone questions. Come,’ he says, pointing at me, and walks into the house.
I follow. Through the door are rough sleeping quarters, bedrolls on the floor. Crates, boxes. Weapons? No running water by the looks of things. Tori wouldn’t like that; no wonder Katran started calling her ‘Princess’. But after what happened to her, being here must be paradise.
‘Sit,’ Nico says, points at a box and sits on the one next. ‘We need to talk. Did Tori tell you her story?’
‘Y
es.’
‘But do you understand why I asked her to tell it to you? Rain, you know how we must work in a group: total honesty. I had Tori tell you her sad tale; you needed to know. To know her strengths and weaknesses, her motivation. To work with her.’
He is putting Tori and me in the same category, the same level. As if we are on the same team. He barely knows her! And I’m hurt inside and can’t work out if that is the reason, or if it is something else. It isn’t total honesty. If Tori knew my story – everything that happened with Ben – she’d never accept me. I sigh.
‘Poor Rain. You know I’m on your side, don’t you?’
He takes my hand, holds it, and I grip on tight, overwhelmed by feeling isolated, alone. Mum and Amy can’t be trusted; Cam isn’t speaking to me, or, if he is, must be avoided for his own good. Earlier I’d felt Tori and I had the beginnings of a fragile friendship, but it will go in an instant if she learns the truth about Ben.
There is only Nico. I look up and meet his eyes. They hold mine, steady. They are always the same. Total honesty: I have to tell him everything.
‘Now,’ he says. ‘How are your drawings coming along?’
‘I’ve got some; I could have brought them today if I’d known I’d be here. I’m at the hospital on Saturday. I need to check some details, and do more. They must be accurate.’
‘Indeed. But soon, Rain. Soon.’
I take a deep breath. ‘I need to talk to you about something else. I—’
‘Wait.’ There are footsteps, a murmur of voices outside. ‘Go out, and meet your new friends, first.’
When I walk out of the house, Katran is back, and with him an exhausted crew of nine. Newish recruits by the looks of them, all about fourteen or fifteen years old. Some are half-known faces from school, and I may be surprised to see them, but they are even more surprised to see me. Eyes focus on my wrist: my Levo.
When Nico walks out behind me all whispers cease. They stand up straighter.
Nico glances at Katran. ‘Report.’
