I can’t turn it off, said Brick. The bigger boy was writhing in the sand and ash, his single wing flopping beneath him like a mangled limb. It won’t go away.
Cal tried again, flicking that invisible switch that would put him back in control of his body. Nothing happened, and he felt the briefest glimmer of panic in his gut. The angel seemed to relish it, his second skin flaring up, pumping out that same mind-numbing sonic pulse. Keep calm, keep calm, he told himself, but suddenly the suit of flames felt wrong, as though he was wearing somebody else’s flesh. He didn’t want to see through its eyes any more, didn’t want to see the secret mechanisms of the world, the little atomic engines that turned relentlessly; didn’t want to feel the immense, gaping emptiness that waited just beyond the paper-thin shell of reality. He shrugged his shoulders, trying to shake himself free, but the angel sat right in the middle of his head, smothering his thoughts.
What’s going on? he said.
Make it go away, Brick yelled, on his feet now, swiping at the air in front of his face as if he’d wandered into a swarm of bees. The boy’s fear was contagious, Howie starting to scratch at the inferno around him, his wings cutting through the wall of the toilet block and blasting it into dust. Adam was whimpering, each cry making the air tremble as it spilled from his lips.
Wait, it’s okay, Daisy said. Don’t be scared.
‘Piss off!’ Brick was screaming now, his words punching through the dunes, sending chunks of sand into the white foam of the sea. ‘Just go away, we’re done, we don’t need you any more.’
Brick! That’s enough!
Cal bit down on the rising panic, watching Daisy float through the air, pulling Brick into her arms. It was like watching a mother with a child, and he soon calmed down, even though the space between them kicked off a firework show of light. She let go of him, a thumping pulse of energy escaping, kicking up whirlwinds of dust.
But I can’t turn it off, Brick said, his hands clenching his temples. It won’t get out of my head.
They’re . . . She struggled for words. They don’t want to go back to where they came from. It’s cold there, and dark.
They can’t stay here, Brick said, punching himself now. It’s my head, you hear me? Get out!
That’s enough, Daisy said, taking hold of his hand. The more emotional you get, the worse it will be. That’s what they want, emotions. All that anger, they’re feeding on it.
You told us that’s what we should do, he said, his burning eyes fixed on her. You told us to use them. It’s your fault.
Lay off, mate, said Cal. If she hadn’t told us that we’d be dead, yeah? Give her a break.
Go to hell, Cal, Brick snarled back. I didn’t ask for any of this to happen. He screwed his face up, groaning. I can feel it in there, get out get out GET OUT!
Daisy looked at Cal, her face full of sadness. That chiming noise was gone, and the air felt heavier for it.
They’re so lonely up there, she said. They hate it. Can’t they stay?
If they stay, we die, he replied. It’s the Fury, Dais – as soon as anyone comes near us they’ll tear us into pieces. We can’t hide forever, it’s only a matter of time. He thought about the creature inside him, the thing that had kept him alive, and felt inexplicably guilty when he said, Tell them to leave, it’s the only way. Can you do it?
Daisy stared out across the sea, but she was looking at something else. Cal tried to peer into her thoughts but what he felt there – a pressure on his chest, in his throat – was unbearable.
Daisy? he said. She looked at him and smiled, just about the saddest smile he had ever seen.
I think I know what I have to do.
Daisy
Hemmingway, 4.59 p.m.
She wasn’t sure why she had brought them back here, to Hemmingway. It was home, she guessed, the only one she had now. The only one she needed. It felt like centuries ago when she and Cal had driven into this car park, a lifetime ago when they had driven out again. It felt as though she had spent years here, by the sea, in the sun, with Cal and Brick and Adam and the others. But years – and seconds, minutes, hours, days – they were different now. Time was a broken thing.
Home. She had been happy here. Not all the time, of course. She had been sick and scared and angry too, at Rilke and Brick and all the ferals and most of all at the man in the storm. But to have found even a little bit of happiness in the middle of all that was like when the sun breaks through the heaviest of clouds, painting the world gold. Yes, she had been happy here. She would always be happy here.
They could be happy here too, the angels. Why did they have to go back to where they came from just because their job was done? It wasn’t as though they were machines ready to be stuffed back in the cupboard. She remembered thinking they were like robots, soulless weapons to be used in the war against the beast. But that was wrong. They were more like babies learning to use their emotions for the first time, discovering all the wonderful things that they could feel. They didn’t have any of their own, she was pretty sure about that, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t feel what she was feeling.
And who would want to go back to a horrid dark empty place for ever if they could stay here and have laughter and love and all the nice things? Even as she thought it she felt her angel laugh, that tuning-fork ring filling the air, so unlike human laughter and yet so unmistakable. It made her giggle too.
What do you mean? Cal asked. What do you have to do?
She smiled at him again, looking at the angel that sat inside his soul. She still didn’t truly understand what they were, or where they came from. How could she? These things were older than time, older than the universe. They’d been here forever, always existing. So had the man in the storm. He was the forever, the ageless, empty aeons. It made her brain hurt just trying to think about it, so she stopped. None of it mattered, not now they’d found a home. She was tired, the angels were tired. It was time to rest.
She made her way to Brick, the boy squirming in his suit of fire. He was such a baby.
Brick, she said. He ignored her, his arms wheeling as if he could somehow pull himself out of his own body. Brick! she said again, touching his shoulder. He flinched, glaring up at her.
Just get it out! he said.
I want you to listen to me, she replied. I want you to be less angry. And less selfish too. He started to argue but there must have been something in her expression that stopped him. Everything is easier when you’re nice, and it doesn’t take much, does it? It doesn’t cost anything.
What are you talking about? he said. It’s got nothing to do with you, Daisy.
Just try, she said. You think everyone hates you, but that’s not true. Don’t you see, we love you, Brick. We always will. Be nice, promise me.
His mouth dropped open and he nodded slowly. She giggled again – the laughter was so easy, now, for her and her angel – then she moved her hand to his chest, pushing her fingers into the fire. It was like putting down a leaf in front of a ladybird, watching it crawl on. Brick’s fire shot out with enough force to catapult him backwards, rolling him across the car park. It ebbed along her arm, making its way towards the sound of bells that rang from the very centre of her. She felt the moment where it joined her angel, the two of them sitting in her chest, chiming so hard her teeth rattled.
Brick cried out, writhing on the sandy concrete where he’d landed, thirty metres or so away. He stared back at her with his own wide, wet, human eyes.
You’re human now, remember. You can’t come near me.
He stood, but stayed where he was.
‘What did you do?’ he croaked, his words weak and stuttered, as though this was the first time he had spoken.
Daisy turned to Howie, who backed away into the wreckage of the toilets. He held his hands up to her.
Wait, what if I want to keep mine? he said.
It will kill you, sooner or later, she replied. Then it will die too.
But what about you?
I’
m offering them something else, I think, she said, floating to him, reaching into his chest. I wish I’d had time to get to know you.
His angel came willingly, burning up her arm and into her soul. The force of it sent Howie spinning back almost to the tree line. After a second or two he lifted his head, putting his hands to his ears. It was no wonder, the hum emanating from her was deafening, three angel hearts beating in the same place. She felt so cold now, and heavy too. But she couldn’t stop. She looked at Adam, smiled at him.
Are you ready? she asked him.
But I want to stay with you, he replied, and it was so good to hear his voice. She floated to him, pulling him to her, feeling that same electric charge build up between them.
I’ll always be here, she said. I need you to be a brave boy, Adam. I need you to be strong. Promise me you’ll never be afraid to use your voice again, okay?
She let him go and he blinked up at her with his burning eyes.
Promise me.
I do, I promise.
This doesn’t hurt.
She pressed her fingers to his chest, his angel freeing itself faster than the others. It seared a trail along her skin, diving into her. It was like she’d eaten too much, like she was about to pop. The sudden current of energy swept Adam away, depositing him softly at Brick’s feet. The bigger boy bent down, picked him up, holding him tight when he tried to run towards her again.
She almost wasn’t able to turn to face Cal, her body too heavy, too full of ice and fire.
How did you know it wouldn’t kill you? he asked. How did you know any of this?
I didn’t, she replied. But they did.
What happens now?
She shrugged. We live.
She straightened her arm, reaching for his chest, but he hovered away.
Thank you, he said. We would never have made it without you.
I know, she said, giggling again. Promise me you’ll look after Adam. Never let him go.
Cal looked over, smiled at the boy.
Sure, I’ll try, Dais, but I don’t know what will happen—
Cal . . .
Okay, sure, I promise. I’ll never let him go.
She tried again, but he backed away even more.
I don’t know what else to say, he said.
Then don’t say anything. She reached out a fourth time, her fingers pushing into his chest. There was a flash, like an electric shock, a bolt of pure energy crackling into her body. Cal flew back, rolling through the dirt. When he looked up his face was covered in ash. He looked like a ghost, and that just made her laugh even harder. The angels laughed too. Her body was hollow and filled with chimes. The hum coming off her sounded loud enough to split the earth.
‘Daisy?’ somebody shouted, but she could barely hear them. She couldn’t see very well, either, the inferno blazing from her so brightly that even her angel’s eyes were struggling. It was too much, the world trembling to hold her, the skin of reality stretching to fit her in. The angels were agitated, she could feel them inside her thoughts, her blood, her soul. It felt as if she was about to blow and take the whole universe with her.
She blinked, seeing Cal and Brick and Adam through the haze, looking so small, so human. She remembered the first time she had met them – Cal, when he saved her, in the car, telling her about the grumpy lady like she’d never heard of a sat nav before; Adam, when he had arrived with the others, so quiet, so afraid, until they’d ridden the horses of the carousel, Angie and Geoffrey and Wonky-Butt the Wonder Horse, and his face had opened up like a flower; and Brick, poor, sad, angry Brick who’d met them right here on this very spot, who’d taken them to Fursville, whose laughter was like a bird’s when he had finally forgotten to be mad at the world. How was it possible to love people so much, so hard?
You should go, she said. I think something is about to happen.
‘Daisy no, don’t leave!’ said Adam. He started towards her but Cal held him back.
‘Goodbye, Daisy,’ Cal said. He smiled at her.
It’s not such a bad way to leave, Daisy thought. Looking at a smile.
She offered him one back, turning away before her laughter could become tears. She’d see them again, she was sure of it. Maybe not in the same way as before, but that was okay. This wasn’t the end. She drifted across the dunes, the world peeling open at her feet, the sea hissing as she flew over it. Even though she felt heavy she rose like a balloon, heading up into the brilliant blue. The movement of the angels was growing more frenzied, as though they were cats trapped together in a basket. She hushed them, but they didn’t understand. The thrum of their hearts was rising in pitch. How much longer did she have before the world simply couldn’t hold her any more? Hours? Minutes? Seconds?
But time is broken, she said to herself. It can never catch us.
She turned back and looked down, saw the boys making their way into the leafless trees. Beneath her the sea had been stripped away, the ground too, the energy that poured from her carving a crater in the earth. The air shook as it tried to escape, as if it knew what was coming. Time ground past, trying to snatch her up in its fingers, but she was too heavy for it now, it couldn’t carry her.
She held on until she couldn’t see them any more – Brick the last one to go, raising a trembling hand, his tears like crystals on his dirty face as he disappeared. Go, she told him. Nothing bad will happen now – then the universe broke beneath the weight of the angels.
They seemed to burn up inside her, an explosion that started in her soul, expanding outwards. It got as far as the edge of the forest before she reached out with her mind and took hold of time, pulling herself free. Something groaned, the noise like a giant foghorn in the centre of the world. Everything was shaking, reality threatening to come to pieces, the explosion desperate to finish what it had started. But she would not let go. The angels worked with her, holding on to the reins of time.
In her head she clung to that memory just as tightly, lying in her garden in the shade of the trees, watching beads of sunlight chase each other across the grass. She rested her head on her mum’s leg, smelling linen and dewberry. Her dad waved at her from inside the kitchen window, looking a hundred years younger than he had before, looking like himself again. She’d been so happy, so happy, and she would always be, because she never had to leave that garden, she never had to say goodbye. She would lie there with the breeze on her face, with her mum’s hand on her arm, with the neighbour’s cat weaving in and out of her feet, purring like a steam train, forever and ever and ever.
She laughed, and outside the world moved on without her. Slowly at first – she saw people there, down below, crowds of them – but quickly speeding up. Day became night became day became night. The faces changed, but she saw people she knew, Cal and Brick and Adam, moving too fast for her to see what they were doing. There was rain, and snow. The forest disappeared, replaced by buildings, then they too vanished, the coastline changing with every beat of her heart. But still she saw them, her friends, her brothers, standing there by the sea, watching her for the blink of an eye. Every time they appeared they seemed older, until they were grey and stooped, but she always knew them.
The world went on without her, years passing, decades, centuries, and she watched the land recede, the ocean rise. She saw cities in the sky, and rockets, she saw the sun grow big and red, all while that same laugh rang out of her, just a single breath that held all of time at bay. At some point she would have to let go, she knew, when the man in the storm appeared again, or something else like him. At some point the angels would pull their way free from her so they could fight another battle. But until then there was just the garden, and the sun, and her mum and dad – I love you guys so, so much – and a laughter that pealed out across the ages.
Brick
Hemmingway, 5.23 p.m.
Brick couldn’t bear to leave her there alone, but what choice did he have? He could hear the sonic pulse of the angels inside her, growing all the time, as though she was ab
out to explode.
‘We should go,’ said Cal, taking Adam by the hand and leading him away from the sea. The little kid resisted, trying to pull loose, but Cal was holding on to him. ‘Mate,’ he said to Brick. ‘Seriously, that doesn’t sound good.’
It didn’t look good, either. The world was coming apart around Daisy, the land and water boiling as she floated up into the sky. He could feel the tremble through his feet, the ground trying to shake itself to pieces. He could barely see the girl any more through the orb of fire that surrounded her. She looked like a bird in a burning cage.
‘I don’t want to go,’ said Adam, sobbing. ‘I want Daisy.’
‘She’s going to be fine,’ Cal said. ‘Can’t you hear her?’
Incredibly she was still laughing, the sound crystal clear, rising even above the hum of the angels. Cal bent down, slinging the boy over his shoulder. He started to run towards the treeline and Brick followed, that pulse chasing him, growling against his back. Howie had already vanished. Brick slipped on the ash, on the sandy concrete of the car park, so tired he could barely put one foot in front of the other. It felt as though he was learning how to use his body from scratch again, now that his angel was gone. He felt too light, too brittle, as if he might break into splinters at the slightest touch.
But it was a miracle he was moving at all. His angel must have healed the most serious wounds, it had patched him up from the inside.
He hobbled into the trees, looking back through the bare branches. Daisy hung over the sea, burning as brightly as the sun. The water steamed beneath her, freezing and then boiling, again and again, forming statues of ice that lasted just seconds before melting away. It was mesmerising, and he almost forgot himself in the kaleidoscopic wonder of it. He held out a hand to her, realising that he was crying. And even though he no longer had his angel he heard her voice in his head, as if she was standing right next to him, whispering in his ear.
The Storm Page 29
