Night School: Legacy

by C. J. Daugherty

  This is wrong.

  She sat up. ‘I have to go back to my room.’

  He hadn’t tried to talk her out of it. Instead, he’d walked with her down a staircase, through empty narrow corridors she’d never seen before and up another servants’ staircase to the girls’ dorm. Their bare feet padded conspiratorially on the cold wood floors. She was terrified of being caught but he’d seemed undaunted. ‘Nobody ever goes this way except students sneaking into each other’s rooms,’ he’d said. And she wondered how many girls’ rooms he’d visited.

  Just outside the door to the girls’ dormitory wing, they’d stopped, and she’d looked up at him. He leaned in close – she could feel his breath warm on her cheek.

  ‘You’re certain you want to do this?’ he’d whispered, his eyes serious.

  Not trusting her voice, she nodded.

  ‘OK then. Until tonight.’

  At eleven-thirty the alarm woke Allie from confused dreams. She was instantly alert; her heart thudding in her ears.

  It’s time.

  Moving efficiently, she pulled on the warm clothes she’d set out earlier, wrapping a dark scarf around her neck and buttoning up a navy blue pea coat.

  The hallway was silent and dark when she opened her bedroom door at ten minutes to midnight. She crept silently down the hallway towards the same narrow staircase she’d used the night of the fire.

  Her hand was on the doorknob when a sound behind her made her freeze.

  ‘Allie?’ Jules clicked on a flashlight, momentarily blinding her. ‘What are you doing?’

  Allie scrambled for an excuse; an explanation. A lie. But her mind was blank.

  Where on earth could she legitimately be going at this hour, with one hand on the stairwell door?

  ‘Jules, please don’t tell anyone,’ she said. ‘But I have to go.’

  The prefect’s eyes narrowed. ‘Allie, you must be joking. You know The Rules. You can’t leave the dorm after eleven without special permission. Where are you going?’

  ‘I have to meet someone.’ Even as she said the words Allie knew how bad that sounded and she hastened to add, ‘It’s not what you think; it’s very important.’

  Jules took a step towards her and Allie marvelled that her perfect white-blonde bob was smooth as silk, even at this hour.

  ‘Is it Carter?’ she whispered. ‘Are you going to meet him?’

  Allie shook her head, mutely.

  A suspicious frown lined Jules’ forehead. ‘Then who is it?’

  ‘Sylvain,’ Allie whispered. As soon as she said his name, colour flooded her cheeks for some reason, as if she were on her way to an illicit assignation.

  Puzzled, Jules lowered the torch a little. ‘I don’t understand. Why are you sneaking out to see Sylvain?’ Her eyes widened. ‘Are you two …?’

  ‘No!’ Thinking about last night, Allie could hear the panic in her own retort. ‘No, he’s just … helping me with something. Jules, listen, I know you’ll need to report this and that’s fine but please don’t do it until morning. I’ll take my punishment then. I promise you we’re not doing anything wrong or totally weird. He’s just helping me.’ She searched Jules’ eyes for understanding. ‘Please, Jules.’

  With a click, Jules turned off the torch. ‘I hope this is worth it, Allie. I won’t say anything until morning. But that’s all I can do. And, later, I’d really like one of you to tell me what the hell is going on.’

  Allie took a deep relieved breath. ‘Thank you, Jules. I owe you.’

  ‘Yes, you bloody do,’ the prefect said tartly. ‘Pay me back by not getting into trouble tonight, OK?’

  The twisted truth had come so easily, Allie didn’t even feel guilty. If everything went to plan, Jules would never know a thing. Nobody would. Nobody would get into trouble. Everything would be fine.

  Allie dashed down the narrow staircase, emerging several storeys later in the crypt. Using the small, light pocket torch Sylvain had given her, she crossed the darkened, ancient chamber. Alone and in the dark it was much creepier than it had been in a crowd of girls with the lights on. Quickly, she found her way to the short staircase leading outside.

  The whole time she was fighting the fear that threatened to squeeze her heart until it couldn’t beat any more.

  When she located the low door and her shaking fingers turned the handle, she stumbled out into the cold night air, the tightness in her chest loosening with relief.

  I’ve done the hardest part, she reassured herself. But she knew that wasn’t true.

  She and Sylvain had plotted out every step she would take, but they both knew Raj’s security guards patrolled the grounds nightly. And there was no way to predict where they would be. Sylvain believed Christopher had chosen this night and this time for a reason.

  ‘I think he is certain Raj’s team won’t be there, or at least they won’t encounter us.’ He’d frowned as he said it. ‘In a way that worries me more than anything.’

  Still, they couldn’t be certain of any of that, and Allie crouched low as she darted through the darkness into the woods. With her torch tucked away in her pocket, her instincts guided her through the shadows.

  She followed the path Sylvain had told her about – around the east side of the property, near the fence line. This footpath wasn’t as heavily used as the main path to the chapel and Allie was forced to move slowly to avoid tripping over the rocks and branches that cluttered her way.

  The rain had ended at last. The night was cold and clear – a crescent moon shone brightly in a sky dusted with stars. But moonlight couldn’t penetrate through the tree canopy, and the path was muddy, and Allie cursed silently as she splashed into a puddle she couldn’t see. An icy breeze blew through the trees, and high above her head night birds grumbled. In the distance a fox screeched.

  The noises were normal, but still, Allie felt a prickle of fear raise the hairs on the back of her neck. She had the strangest sense of being watched.

  Picking up her speed, she tried to put the bad feeling behind her. Sylvain was out there somewhere, she knew. Maybe it was him.

  They’d agreed that they would leave the building separately – he would depart before her and then watch for her from a hiding place. Once she was in the woods, he said, ‘I will be with you all the time. You won’t be able to see me, but trust that I will be there.’

  I trust you, Sylvain, she thought. And then, conflictingly: Please be there.

  As she rounded a bend, she was forced to clamber over a downed tree blocking the path. Her heart pounded – until she got across it, she was vulnerable. Panic made her careless and she crashed through the branches on the far side.

  Once she’d made it to the other side, she could see the church wall ahead. Turning off the footpath before the churchyard, she made her way through the trees, moving carefully. Dried ferns brushed her fingertips like feathers, rustling softly with her every step. She could hear water rushing nearby.

  As Sylvain had promised, on the far side of the church a narrow path led down to the stream and she followed it down to the water’s edge. As she neared the creek bank, the trees opened up and moonlight illuminated the muddy shore. She was standing where Isabelle had stood last summer to meet Nathaniel.

  Now she stood alone, peering into the darkness for any sign of her brother but the woods stood silent. The stream itself was swollen to nearly three times the size it had been the last time she’d been here. The heavy rains had fed it nearly to the breaking point; now it was a mini-river, whose waters rushed by her feet.

  Down the stream a stepping-stone bridge was almost completely submerged. As she watched the water rush past it in a violent torrent it occurred to her that it would be fun to hop across that bridge on a hot summer day; the kind of day when you secretly hope to fall in.

  ‘Allie.’

  Christopher stood on the far bank, watching her with steady grey eyes exactly like her own.

  ‘Oh.’ Seeing him, she felt real, physical pain. Covering her mouth w
ith her hand, she fought back tears.

  He looked so much older. His unruly, light brown hair had been cut severely short, and he seemed taller, she thought. When she knew him, T-shirts and jeans had been his constant uniform. Now he wore a suit and tie, and the dark suit jacket covered the broad shoulders of a man.

  Then he smiled and she could see the sixteen-year-old who’d helped her with her homework and met her after school. ‘I knew you wouldn’t let me down.’

  ‘Christopher, I’ve missed you so much.’ Through tears, she smiled back at him. ‘I had to make sure you were OK. Your hair is … so short.’

  She couldn’t believe that was what she’d come up with to say to her long-lost brother, and colour flooded back into her face.

  But he didn’t seem to notice. ‘You’ve grown up into such a beautiful girl,’ he said. ‘No wonder all the boys are in love with you. And I hear your grades are aces. I’m so proud of you, Allie-cat.’

  As he spoke, Allie wondered how he knew those things about her, but then he used his old pet name for her and all other thoughts flew away.

  ‘Oh, Chris, I miss you,’ she said, reaching out towards him with empty hands. ‘Why did you have to go?’

  The smile disappeared from his face. ‘You know by now, don’t you?’

  She shook her head. ‘I have no idea. I mean, I know Lucinda Meldrum is our grandmother, and that Mum went to school here and didn’t tell us but that’s …’

  ‘So you know she lied to us our whole lives.’ The recognisable Christopher was gone now, replaced by an angry man who glared across the water at her. ‘And that she and Isabelle conspired to keep us in the dark about our own family. And that now our grandmother …’ he spat the word out with contempt ‘… is denying us our family heritage. You do know that. Right?’

  ‘Christopher, wait a second. Wait, wait, wait.’ Allie tried to cut through the stream of vitriol. ‘I don’t … How is Lucinda denying us our heritage?’

  ‘She refuses to acknowledge us as her family, Allie,’ he said. ‘How can you not know this? It’s all because of Isabelle. You see, Allie,’ he took a step closer to the water’s edge – moonlight turning his face ghostly pale – ‘Isabelle has a plan. This is what I need to tell you. She’s wheedled herself into Lucinda’s good graces, effectively replacing our mother. The last thing Isabelle wants now is for two kids to come along – real blood relatives – and take their rightful place as Lucinda’s heirs. So she’s keeping you at Cimmeria where she can control you completely.’

  His face was twisted with rage, and she held her breath as she watched him. He looked deranged, she thought, her heart heavy in her chest.

  ‘Well, I’m not going to be a part of their little game,’ he continued. ‘Nathaniel has a plan, Allie. A good one. He’s going to take the power back from Isabelle completely. Get her out of the picture. He’s going to get rid of the people who’ve run the organisation for the last twenty years and then …’ He squeezed his hands into fists. ‘Then things will change around here.’

  Sickened, Allie was suddenly glad of the water running between them.

  ‘Are you sure he’s the one to trust, Christopher?’ She kept her tone cautious but steady. ‘I mean, why trust him and not Isabelle? I find it hard to believe Isabelle’s power hungry like—’

  ‘Oh, Allie, don’t be ridiculous.’ Christopher cut her off. ‘Look around you. Where are you? You’re at a preparatory school for kings, prime ministers, bankers … These people will run the world one day, and Isabelle is their figurehead and you don’t think she’s power hungry?’ His voice rose in disbelief. ‘Bollocks. She’s power hungry all right. She’s hungrier than anybody.’

  Stubbornly, Allie shook her head. ‘You don’t know her, Chris. She’s not like that. She really cares about me … about our family.’

  ‘Oh she does, does she?’ The heat that had fired his previous words was gone, replaced by ice. ‘Then ask yourself this: Why did she lie about Ruth’s death? And whatever happened to Ruth’s body anyway? And if you died, what would she do with yours?’

  All the oxygen seemed to leave her lungs, as if he’d punched her. The one thing she couldn’t explain away – the one thing she couldn’t understand about Isabelle – was Ruth. Ruth was murdered at the summer ball, by Gabe. And Isabelle had covered it up. She’d knowingly – willingly – told everyone it was a suicide. Ruth’s parents had either believed her or gone along with it. Everybody for ever would think Ruth killed herself, and Allie could not accept it. It just wasn’t right.

  But … how did Christopher know that?

  Suddenly grief crashed over her like a wave. Must everything she cared about be taken away from her? Must everyone she trusted be a liar?

  ‘Why should I listen to you?’ She nearly screamed the words. ‘You abandoned me. Isn’t that betrayal? Then you just show up here, siding with some arsehole who kills people and … what? I’m supposed to go with you? I’m supposed to trust you?’

  His expression changed, and he held out placating hands. ‘I know you’re angry at me. I’m sorry for what I did to you. But don’t trust Isabelle, Al, she’s a liar. She’s cheating you out of your inheritance and you don’t even realise it. She’s cheating you out of your whole family. She doesn’t really care about you. But I do.’

  Allie crossed her arms across her torso. Her heart felt compressed into a tiny cube, cold in her chest. Every instinct in her body told her to run away. But she couldn’t go now. She had to know everything.

  ‘What exactly do you want me to do, Christopher?’ Although she felt breathless with anger and pain, her voice held steady. ‘Leave Cimmeria and come with you?’

  ‘Not yet.’ He seemed pleased by her question, perhaps thinking he was making headway with her. ‘But soon.’ He glanced over his shoulder; when he turned back he seemed almost apologetic. ‘Look, Al, we don’t have much time tonight. But we should meet again. I want to tell you about our plans.’

  When he smiled, he looked so much like the boy Allie remembered it almost made her cry. The older brother who always made her feel safe. The one who always looked out for her.

  ‘Eventually, you’ll see what I mean about all of this. Nathaniel is a good guy.’ Her disbelief must have shown in her face because he added quickly, ‘I know he’s had to do things … It was hard for him, too. But this is a war, Allie. And he’s right about the organisation.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ She kept her voice light and conversational. ‘At least tell me something, here. What does he want to do?’

  ‘Oh, Al.’ His eyes shone with passion. ‘He’s going to change everything. Fix all the things that have gone wrong in the world because the wrong people are in charge. Put the right people in charge. You know what Cimmeria is, right? I mean, what it’s part of? If he ran the organisation, he could really do it, Allie. He could change everything. Fix everything.’

  Allie didn’t understand what he was talking about. Change everything? Fix everything?

  But Christopher was looking over his shoulder again and she got the impression someone was speaking to him, quietly. When he turned back, he looked almost sad.

  ‘God I’ve missed you, Allie-cat.’ From across the water, he studied her face as if he were memorising it. ‘Sometimes I thought I’d never see you again but here we both are.’

  ‘Yep.’ Allie fought to stay in control as her lower lip trembled. ‘Here we are.’

  ‘Hey,’ he said with sudden brightness, ‘remember that time I taught you to ride your bike and I forgot to show you how to use the brakes before letting you go?’

  ‘I went careening down the pavement in front of the house and crashed into the postman’s cart.’ For just a second, Allie smiled at the memory. ‘Letters flew everywhere.’

  ‘He was furious,’ Chris chuckled. ‘He went to Mum and Dad and …’

  The mention of their parents seemed to bring him back to reality and his smile evaporated. He took a step back from the water’s edge. ‘I have to go now, Al. Ta
ke the same path back that you took down here and you’ll be clear of Patel’s guards.’

  How can he be so sure of that?

  He held up his hand. ‘Goodbye, Allie. And don’t worry – we’ll be keeping an eye on you. We’ve got someone on the inside.’

  ‘Who?’ she called after him.

  But he was already disappearing into the trees.

  As she made her way back up the rocky trail to the churchyard (thirty-three steps) she moved with mechanical efficiency. But while she pushed her way through branches her brain fought to make sense of what had just happened.

  ‘You know what Cimmeria is? What it’s part of.’ When he’d said that his eyes had fairly glowed with excitement. She needed to talk this over with somebody. But who? Nobody knew she was here. She couldn’t tell Rachel or Carter – not without word getting back to Isabelle.

  And then Sylvain would be in trouble.

  She’d almost made it to the main footpath. She was stepping around a large branch half blocking her way when a shape hurtled out of the woods, hitting her so hard she went sprawling, winded. Then, before she could recover, he wrapped her in his arms and dragged her into the forest.

  It happened so fast there was no time to react. No time even to scream. No time for a neck lock or a defensive left flip. Just one minute she was walking on the path. And the next she was gone.

  NINETEEN

  Allie was half dragged through the trees by someone she couldn’t see – a muscular arm was tight across her chest, a strong hand held her brutally by the upper arm and hair. Her feet barely skimmed the ground and she was immobilised – she could neither move her arms nor grab on to anything. Because he was behind her, she couldn’t see her kidnapper but she could feel the hardness of his torso against her back, smell his sweat, hear his harsh breathing.

  Rising panic made it hard for her to focus.

  Come on, Allie. Think! What would Mr Patel have told her to do?

  But fear seemed to have rendered her brain inoperable. Her own breath had shortened to gasps. When she struggled, the arms around her tightened to the point where she thought her ribcage would crack.