Angel Dares

by Joss Stirling

  ‘So how did you not guess about Jennifer?’

  He grimaced. ‘I knew about her being untrustworthy but not why. I told Brian she was using him but he liked the … well, being her guy.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve all had our fair share of girlfriends who have complicated reasons for being with us—most are attracted by the fame. I put her in that group and kept away from her as much as possible. Margot did the same. She said they had a professional working relationship rather than a friendship.’

  That was true. I’d not seen Kurt or Margot hanging out with Jennifer at any stage. She’d been Brian’s girl, not one of the band’s inner circle.

  ‘What have you told Brian?’

  ‘That Jennifer had been working for a journalist. That’s the truth, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes. Oh, poor Brian.’

  ‘He’s philosophical about it. Many more fish in the sea.’

  ‘Yeah, and hopefully the next one won’t be a two-faced savant-hating bitch.’

  Kurt bumped knuckles with me in agreement.

  The car turned into RAF Northolt in west London, an airstrip occasionally used by private jets that wanted to avoid queues at Heathrow. A white plane with the Gifted logo stood waiting on the tarmac. Inside I was dead impressed but I couldn’t let Kurt get away with such flaunting of his wealth.

  ‘Own jet, Kurt? My, aren’t we getting big for our boots?’ I teased.

  ‘Hired—for the tour, darlin’.’ Kurt tweaked my nose. ‘Marketing idea for the name to be painted on it.’

  ‘Can’t hear you screaming your protests.’ I grinned.

  ‘Course not. Boyhood dream come true.’ He got out and guided me across to the steps up.

  I looked about me. ‘What, no border controls?’

  ‘Margot’s sorted that out for us.’

  Entering the cabin I found Margot and Will waiting for us, both looking very happy to be there. Clearly this was something of a treat for them too. ‘Hi, guys, how are you?’

  Will got up and hugged me. ‘We should be asking you that. Ready for a trip to Paris?’

  ‘Beats dissecting lamb hearts in the biology lab any day.’

  Will smiled. ‘Yeah, I can see how it wouldn’t be hard to give that a miss.’

  Kurt came up behind me and slapped me on the back. ‘What’s that? You want me to order lamb hearts for you at the restaurant to catch up?’

  ‘Don’t you dare!’ I took my seat and buckled up.

  The restaurant proved to be at the top of the Eiffel Tower—trust Kurt to go for something so sensational. I had no idea why I was there during the middle of an ordinary school day. I was completely inappropriately dressed for the upmarket dining room with sweeping views across the city, wearing my usual school casual of jeans and shirt. Kurt wasn’t much better but he was a rock star so could get away with the scruffy T-shirt and leather jacket. Margot and Will had both spiffed up for the occasion, having had more warning. As it didn’t seem to bother any of them or the waiters, I decided to ignore it. The only sneaky regret was that Marcus wasn’t there. It would have made for one very romantic rendezvous.

  Stop it. That relationship is history. Don’t pine after him, you spineless girl, scolded Sensible Angel.

  The waiter put my crème brûlée in front of me. To think normally I’d be eating crisps and an apple in the common room right now.

  ‘So, Angel, as you might guess from all this, I’ve an offer for you.’ Kurt sipped his espresso.

  I tore my eyes away from the seagulls crisscrossing our window. ‘An offer? You know about the record deal with Mr Hungerford, right?’

  ‘Yeah, I told Barry he needed to snap you up before others got after you. Was the offer fair?’

  I thought through the pages of legalese that my mother’s friend was checking. ‘Not sure yet. He seems to want to shove me up front, which isn’t going down so well with our old lead singer.’

  ‘Yeah, I guess not but Jay strikes me as the kinda guy who’d adapt when he sees what he stands to gain.’

  I nodded and broke the sugar glaze on top of my dessert with my spoon.

  Margot leaned forward. ‘What we have in mind won’t cut across that deal, Angel. It’s about Saturday.’

  ‘We want you to play like you should have done at Rockport,’ said Kurt, ‘if that head case hadn’t half drowned you.’

  My spoon stopped halfway to my mouth.

  ‘They want you to play at the O2,’ said Will, realizing I needed it spelling out before I would completely grasp what was going on.

  ‘Really?’ I asked.

  ‘Yep. How does that sound?’

  I closed my eyes briefly, remembering that Marcus would be there. I wasn’t ready to see him yet, the wounds too raw. But I could avoid him, couldn’t I? The arrangement was to play with Gifted, not Black Belt.

  ‘OK, yes.’

  Kurt’s smile went crafty. ‘Just “yes”—not YES PLEASE, YOU SERIOUSLY WONDERFUL ROCK GOD!!!’

  He was listening into my head. ‘Cut out the telepathic snooping. Just because you’ve learned how to do it, doesn’t mean you should.’

  He grinned.

  ‘Jeez, we need to send you to savant school.’ I waved my spoon at him, sending my crème brûlée slithering to the tablecloth. Oops. I scooped it up before a waiter spotted it. ‘If you eavesdrop on me, I’ll get Summer to do the same to you.’

  At least that got him worried. ‘OK. Won’t do so again, promise.’ But it was hard to believe him when his eyes were glinting with mischief. Like Marcus, he appeared to have much stronger telepathic powers than me, which came with the ability to snoop into other people’s thoughts if you didn’t watch what you were doing. ‘So you’ll play?’

  ‘I’ll play.’ I nudged him with my elbow. ‘You know, Kurt, I’d’ve said yes even if you just took me to MacDonald’s, you know? This is a bit over-kill.’ I gestured to the incredible view, amazing food and hovering waiters.

  He chuckled. ‘That might be what you think you’re worth, but I thought you deserved this.’

  On the flight back I had time to catch up with Will. Uriel had good news: Tarryn had secured the job in Colorado so there was another savant couple that had managed to mesh their life plans. There was talk of a wedding later in the year.

  ‘And what about you and Margot?’ I probed.

  Will reclined his seat and pretended to sleep.

  ‘William Benedict, you will satisfy my insatiable curiosity.’

  He opened one eye. ‘Why? You are so easy to tease.’ He folded his hands on his chest. ‘It’s early days yet, Angel. We’ve only known each other for a week.’

  ‘But I bet it feels much longer.’

  He raised a brow.

  ‘I mean that in the totally positive sense that you are so prepared for each other it just feels like she’s always been there.’

  He sat his chair back to the upright position. ‘Yes, you’re right. I’ve hit the jackpot with her, haven’t I?’ His gaze sought her out. She was sitting with Kurt going through some business papers. ‘Her gift is fascinating. She just listens to how someone sounds to her and she can tell so much about them, like how good a person is.’

  I giggled as a funny idea struck me. ‘Like those squirrels.’

  ‘What squirrels?’ Will looked puzzled.

  ‘In Charlie and the Chocolate Factory—they tapped on the hazelnuts to tell if they were rotten. Violet Beauregarde wanted one as a pet but got chucked away as a bad nut instead.’

  Will chuckled. ‘You do have the oddest brain, Angel. Yeah, a little like that, though she’s also learned to pick up signs for musical talent as well as character—incredibly helpful in her business. She says it’s the sound equivalent of Sky seeing colour auras around people telling her what they are feeling.’

  ‘So how are you going to work out where you live?’

  ‘She says she can move from Amsterdam if we need. My business is only just getting on its feet but the personal protection game moves with the client so
I’m not tied to one place either.’

  ‘Looks to me as though there’s a new savant who’s in need of a special kind of protection so he doesn’t blow the whole shebang in front of the world’s media.’

  Will rubbed his chin. ‘That thought had kinda crossed my mind, but baby steps, remember?’

  I sighed. ‘I wish I had remembered.’

  ‘You really messed up with Marcus? No getting back on track?’

  I slapped his stomach. ‘Excuse me: Marcus messed up with me! He set me a test of loyalty, can you believe it?’ I told him all about the events in Barry Hungerford’s office.

  Will didn’t look as annoyed for me as I expected. ‘Poor guy. He’s really not got your measure yet, has he?’

  ‘What about poor Angel? I don’t want to see Marcus ever again.’ Liar.

  ‘Don’t blame you. But when you do—’

  I opened my mouth to protest.

  ‘You will, Angel. You know you will. It’s inevitable: he’s your soulfinder. When you do, make him beg your forgiveness. It will do him good to feel the petitioner, not the one granting the favour.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  Will gestured to the quiet cabin of the private jet. ‘All this stuff—celebrity trappings—does a guy’s head in. Marcus has got so used to it that he now suspects everyone who makes friends with him of wanting a slice of the pie. He has forgotten how to use his instincts about people. Margot and Kurt have been saved from that by their gifts. I guess that’s why Kurt’s not got too puffed up over the last decade since he made the big time.’

  ‘And what does the Savant Net think about having a new savant on the books who is a headline every time he sneezes?’

  Will shrugged. ‘Too late to turn back the clock. As long as he isn’t famous for being a savant then I guess we can live with it.’

  ‘And Marcus—his gift is on show.’

  ‘Nobody puts it down to a special power so that has to pass too. We’ll talk to him about control when he’s ready.’

  I rattled the ice in the bottom of my glass. ‘Have you tried yet?’

  ‘Angel, ever since you took off on Saturday, Marcus has been locked in his hotel room writing, only emerging to growl at everyone and perform the last tour dates.’

  I could just imagine the kind of lyrics he was writing. Ouch. ‘I think I’m bad for him.’

  Will laughed. ‘No way, Angel: you are the best thing that will ever happen to him. He’s a nice guy but he takes himself way too seriously. With you to even up that side of his character, you’ll both do fine: you’re the fuel in the relationship’s engine, he can be the ballast.’

  I tried to imagine our ship one day chugging away across the seas ahead but it seemed impossible. ‘But neither of us are at the wheel at the moment—that boat’s still in dry dock.’

  ‘No: you’ve set sail, both of you, you just haven’t quite got to grips with the fact.’

  I hit him again for good measure. Smug I’ve-found-my-soulfinder-and-everything-is-going-well savants need taking down a peg or two.

  He rubbed his stomach, pulling a ridiculous face. ‘You are an evil girl. I’ve eaten too much to be beaten up by an annoying pixie.’

  ‘And you are an attention-seeking fibber: I didn’t hit you that hard.’ I leaned closer. ‘Anyway, William, I thought you bodyguard types had six packs of iron muscles.’

  ‘Not just after lunch.’ He ruffled my hair. ‘Pest.’

  Standing in front of the dressing-room mirror, I checked my concert outfit for the twentieth time. Jennifer had wanted me to wear black at Rockport so naturally that was the last colour I was going to pick for my big night at the O2. I’d chosen a short white halter-neck dress, high heels, and silver belt. My hair was newly trimmed, touching my shoulders but swept up at the sides and fastened with diamante clasps in the shape of wings. I’d got make-up tips off a local beautician so my eyes were huge behind the silver and blue shadow she had sold me. Tiny crystals outlined the lids. I looked otherworldly. Only the battered shape of Freddie brought me back down to earth but I wasn’t going to change him—he was as much a star of this piece as me, providing the voice to the breath I played into him with the bow.

  I went through the steps of my pre-show ritual. I had deliberately asked to arrive late to the performance so I did not have to rub shoulders with the other members of Gifted and Black Belt. Marcus and his guys had already been onstage as my car dropped me at the performers’ entrance. I had heard the familiar strains of their songs even from outside the huge white circus tent dome on the banks of the Thames. The sell-out crowd had been lapping it up. Marcus had evidently emerged from his cave and ceased growling in time for this big show.

  Stop thinking about him. This is your night—your chance, Angry Angel had bellowed, kicking Lovelorn Angel out of her wallowing spot.

  So now I was in front of my mirror alone in my dressing room, aware that all my family and friends were in the audience rooting for me. I was not going to think about my poxy soulfinder; I wasn’t even going to think about how I was not going to think about him, OK?

  Dang it all: I was rubbish at this not thinking malarkey.

  Concentrate on your preparations. Great: Calm and Sensible Angel had made an appearance in my head after a long absence. I poured water into a beer glass and began the swirl and fountain mental exercises that focused my brain. I had just reached the high point—water roping around the glass like an eel—when there came a knock on the door.

  ‘Blast!’ Losing my grip, the water splashed over the dressing table, soaking the programme Margot had given me. ‘Come in!’

  Hoping against hope it was Marcus—you are not thinking about him, Angel!—I was briefly disappointed to find his band mates, Michael and Pete, in the doorway.

  ‘Hey, how’s our favourite violinist?’ Michael asked.

  ‘All right, Angel?’ added Pete gruffly.

  I wadded some tissues to soak up the worst of the water. ‘Hi, guys. How did it go?’

  Pete grinned. ‘We were smokin’ hot.’

  I laughed. ‘Good.’

  Michael joined me in clearing up with a towel grabbed from the sink. ‘You didn’t listen?’

  I looked away, not wanting to admit I had purposely avoided the chance to hear the first half of the concert. ‘I couldn’t sit still—too nervous.’

  Michael threw the damp towel in the basin and gave me a one-armed hug, careful not to rumple my costume. ‘I can imagine. I threw up before our first time performing here.’

  Pete winked at me. ‘And today is our first time at the O2.’

  I felt bad: I’d forgotten they were relative newbies too. ‘Oh, Michael, you poor love. Do you want a mint?’

  Michael shook his head. ‘I’m fine now. But if you are feeling sorry for me, how about a kiss better?’ He grinned and pointed to his lips.

  I kissed his cheek and patted his shoulder. ‘There—all better now.’

  Pete slapped him around the head.

  Michael gave a put-upon sigh. ‘It was worth a try. Marcus hasn’t put up any “No trespassing” signs yet.’

  ‘Let’s leave her to finish getting ready,’ said Pete, tugging the back of Michael’s T-shirt. ‘We’ll be watching. Hope it goes really well.’

  ‘Thanks, Pete.’

  Having shoved his friend out into the corridor, Pete hovered by the door.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked, catching sight of him in the mirror as I touched up my lip gloss.

  ‘Don’t I get one of those too?’ He pointed to his cheek with a twinkle in his eye.

  I went up on tiptoe and kissed him.

  ‘Take no notice of Michael,’ Pete whispered. ‘Marcus has planted the signs but he just hasn’t owned up to it yet.’

  ‘Thanks, big guy.’

  The two Black Belt band members headed off down the corridor to their dressing room. I told myself to be pleased that Marcus hadn’t come. That would just have messed with my head, wouldn’t it, and I needed to be clear think
ing for this.

  I glanced at the clock. Almost time. My song was to come near the end of the Gifted set at ten to ten if the concert was running to plan. I scrolled through my texts. Misty and Summer had both sent me good luck messages, as had every Benedict brother and their soulfinders except for Victor. He didn’t do that kind of thing. School friends had also texted—as had my parents. Eek—so many people I could let down. My fingers suddenly felt like sausages, too clumsy to find the strings.

  Why wasn’t someone here to stop me getting all Angelish before I went on?

  Angel: you’ll be fine. Summer’s message reached me loud and clear. She was with Misty and Alex out front.

  I’m panicking here.

  Of course you are. I’d be worried if you weren’t.

  How does that work?

  Because—that was Misty joining in—you’d not be your normal self. And it is your normal self that panics then plays so well. Alex, tell her.

  You’ll be amazing. Alex was using a little touch of his persuasive gift to convince me. You know what you’re doing and that’s all that is expected of you.

  I could feel myself purring under his touch like a cat being stroked. He is such a cool guy.

  Thanks, everyone.

  And even if you do mess up, added Misty briskly, you’ll do it in such a loveable way that no one will mind.

  But I don’t want to mess up!

  Then you won’t, said Alex. I could sense he had just elbowed Misty to stop giving me so much truth.

  Just do your best, Angel, said Summer.

  I’ll try. That was a promise I could make.

  The stage manager tapped on the door.

  ‘Miss Campbell, are you ready?’

  I gave her a sassy grin. ‘Ready as I’ll ever be.’

  ‘I like your shoes,’ she said as she walked me to the wings. ‘Where did you get them?’

  I knew she was distracting me from my nerves but it worked. We chatted about the shoe stall in Camden Market for a bit then we were there. The noise as we went through the last door was incredible: Gifted were playing one of their most famous anthems, producing a tidal wave of sound that swept into the gut and took you bodily along with it.