And the Urn. As she read the words again, Cassie felt her eyes so wide with amazement that they hurt, and she had to blink hard as she studied the scans of the perfectly inked text.
The Urn may contain and preserve a
Spirit indefinitely.
Why exactly would anyone want to contain and preserve a spirit anywhere but inside a host’s body …?
From thence the Spirit’s energy may be consumed.
Thus did the Eldest create the greatest Evil,
and thus did the Elders resolve that he, the
Eldest, must be defeated and contained.
Ah. It seemed the Eldest Few had a hunger for more than just your common-or-garden human life-force.
It was all so much to take in. If the Knife was not the only remnant of a lost Few culture, perhaps it wasn’t the Knife she’d sensed after all in Ranjit’s room? It could have been any of the other artefacts. Was it possible that it wasn’t the Knife that had killed Yusuf and sucked him as dry as a dead herring? That maybe Jake wasn’t the culprit?
But if not him, then who?
Cassie shuddered, turning another page. At last, there was some good news, she thought, though she couldn’t help noting the irony of seeing this part as a good thing, given all that had happened last term …
The Elders had formed a Council (yes, that sounded familiar) that was strong enough to defeat the Eldest Few: he had fled, never to be seen again. The Council, recognising the dreadful power inherent in his creations, had hidden the artefacts. For some reason that she didn’t understand, the manuscript said that the artefacts were hidden by non-Few, drugged to forget what they’d done and where they’d been (that sounded familiar too, Cassie thought with a frown).
And the records of the artefacts and their hiding places, as deemed by the Council – contained within this manuscript – were to be divided in two. This document that Ranjit had found, it seemed, was only Part One …
Cassie sat back, breathing deeply. It sounded crazy, and only made a vague kind of sense in her mind. Thinking of Jake, she shivered. What had he done with the Knife? Had it fallen into the wrong hands? Was that why Ranjit had been asking about it, was he worried about what it could do? She sighed. So much was still so unclear.
Flipping back through the pages, Cassie smoothed them with her palms, marvelling at the detail in the engravings, even in laser-printed reproduction. Something made her want to touch every one of these beautiful drawings, and to touch their real living counterparts. She could almost feel the warm smoothness of the jade pendant as she ran her fingers across the page. And then, with a heavy heart, she flicked to the final page, where the elegant, barely decipherable script ran out.
Yes, the Knife had been hidden in Angkor Wat, Cambodia; she could make out that much from the description, though the place wasn’t named. The hiding place of the Pendant was named, though.
Byzantium
Byzantium. Which then became Constantinople. Which then became … Istanbul. It had been hidden right there, in that very city. There was no indication of where exactly it was hidden; only a sketch of a symbol, different to the familiar Few mark, under which the Pendant apparently lay.
But one thing was clear enough to her: Ranjit had found this manuscript, scanned it, and gone to hunt down the Pendant.
But why? And what had happened to him? Maybe the other part of the manuscript explained more?
Cassie knew she couldn’t tell Sir Alric about all this. She knew that very clearly. She wasn’t going to be the one who got Ranjit into trouble. She’d just have to get him out of it …
Somehow.
She needed help, though, and there was only one person now who’d be willing, who she’d – almost – trust. Pulling out her phone, she dialled Richard.
‘Richard? Hey. It’s Cassie.’
‘Like I’d fail to recognise those dulcet tones, beautiful. But you sound tense. Anything I can, uh, help with?’
She could practically hear his grin through the receiver, but she had to ignore it. ‘Look, I’ve found something. Do you think you could come over?’
He was knocking on her door within minutes of her call.
‘That’s an invitation I can’t refuse. What’s the mystery, then?’
‘Look at this.’ She drew him over to the desk, sat him down, and fanned out the pages before him. ‘See what you make of it.’
Leaning closer to her, Cassie felt guilt shimmer through her along with the electricity of attraction. Now certainly wasn’t the time – not with the situation with Ranjit looking more and more serious with every passing moment.
Richard skimmed the text, quickly turning the pages, occasionally hesitating over an obscured word. It took him perhaps ten minutes to read the lot.
‘This certainly makes a lot of things a bit clearer.’ Shaking his head, he sat back, touching the papers almost reverently. ‘Keiko did find that knife in Angkor Wat. I remember it well. It was something she sensed. She was sure something was there, in one of the old temples, but she didn’t know what; she was obsessed with tracking it down. And she did. And you know what? She was never quite the same …’
Cassie watched him thoughtfully. ‘You mean she wasn’t always a crazy homicidal bitch?’
Richard laughed. ‘A crazy bitch, always. But it was like everything multiplied overnight: the crazy part and the bitch part. And she certainly turned homicidal.’
‘Yeah, I know.’ Cassie shivered.
‘Nobody else was ever allowed to touch it. She was so possessive about the thing. It was like she’d found the One Ring.’
‘Hmm,’ Cassie mumbled, her brow knit. ‘Maybe the artefacts have some strange affect on Few. Though I had the Knife, and I’d like to think I didn’t reach crazy bitch levels of behaviour, but …’
He raised his head and studied her. ‘Well, you’re only part-Few, though. Maybe that makes a difference?’
‘Jake’s touched the Knife too, but the worst that happened to him happened before he ever touched it. Or at least, that’s what I thought …’ Cassie’s breathing quickened. What had her friends got themselves embroiled in? What if the Knife made Jake’s vengeful nature even worse?
Richard was reading the pages closely again. He remained silent for a few more minutes, occasionally sighing deeply. Then he shuffled the papers into a neat pile, took a breath, and stood up quite sharply.
‘I don’t know. I don’t really know what to make of all this. But, Cassie, speaking of Keiko … Listen to me.’ He turned.
He was very close. Alarmingly close. Cassie wanted to take a step back but found she couldn’t. There was a look on his face, almost pleading, and he was nibbling the corner of his lip in a way that made Cassie’s heart pound. He lifted his hands.
Oh God, she thought. Is he going to try and kiss me again? Please don’t let him try and kiss me. Not right now, too confusing, too complicated—
‘Cassie, I—’
‘Hold on!’ She raised a warning finger to his face, and he started back. But instead of moving away, her body took over. Instead of pushing him away, she found herself grabbing his head in two hands, pulling him to her, pressing her lips to his and …
Kissing him.
Richard was shocked only for a moment; then he was responding with enthusiasm, deepening the kiss. She moved her tongue to find his, and he gave a little groan of lust. He wasn’t the only one, she thought, pulling him closer. Her fingers raked slowly, luxuriantly through his silky hair, breathing in deeply through her nose, smelling the woody, warm scent of his skin …
Bloody hell!
Pulling back, she wobbled, getting her breath and her composure back. He looked in much the same state.
‘Well.’ She put a hand to her chest, and did her best to make a joke of it. ‘I, uh, I thought we should just … get that out of the way.’
Something flitted across his face – hurt, disappointment? – but then the shutters were down again.
‘Fair enough, beautiful,’ he retor
ted, winking. But there was no mirth in his voice.
She was hopelessly confused now, more about herself than about him. ‘Richard, I’m sorry. Um, were you going to tell me something?’
‘I’m not. Not sorry, I mean.’ He sounded over-bright now, like he always did in defensive mode. ‘And actually, it’s late. Let’s leave it. We should get some sleep, think this over. It’s a lot to take in.’ He stopped and pointed to the printed pages, as though he was concerned she might have thought he meant something else. ‘Shall I see you in the morning?’
‘Um, OK.’ Cassie was lost for words as she watched him walk out of the room and close the door.
She was sorry. She’d just done something stupid. So very, unbelievably stupid. Still – had she misread him completely? He’d looked almost upset, like this meant more to him than she thought …
Cassie shook her head violently. She couldn’t afford to worry about someone else on top of Ranjit – feel something for anyone else.
She had to focus.
What had Ranjit been looking for? Maybe she should get some sleep and this would all make more sense in the morning. But, turning back to the pages that detailed the artefacts, she stared at them once again.
The Pendant may, for a spell of time, draw the
Spirit from its Host.
Oh. God.
She flipped a sheet of paper.
The Knife may Sever the connection between
Spirit and Host. Only this Knife, or
Death itself, may break the Bond.
Cassie blinked. What had Ranjit said to her, at the start of term?
I know a way for us to be together. We will be together, I promise you that!
That didn’t have to mean anything sinister. It didn’t. But it was more than that. Something else was at the edge of her mind, something she didn’t want to remember, but something she had to. Come on, Cassie! She tugged at her hair, trying to wrench the memory free. And then, she did remember.
Ranjit’s last hyper, frantic phone call.
I know how, now. How to heal old wounds.
BREAK OLD TIES!
A cold shiver of dread ran down her spine. Ranjit had asked her about the Knife. And the symbol he’d photographed at Hagia Sophia: she was almost certain it bore a distinct similarity to that engraving of the symbol under which the Pendant supposedly lay. Had he found it, then?
All at once, it hit her. She knew, very suddenly and sickeningly, what had been missing from Sir Alric’s study that day. Darke had been so distracted, so nervous, and he’d turned his own office upside down looking for something. Yes, something had been missing. That pale, ornate jade vase, the one that reflected the light so prettily. A vase? No.
The Urn.
Sir Alric must have found the Urn, and where better to hide it than in plain sight? Cassie gulped hard. The Urn, which could contain and preserve a spirit indefinitely …
Cassandra, NO! It can’t be … Absolutely not. We must walk away NOW!
‘Break old ties …’ Cassie whispered, shock making her voice quiver. ‘Oh my God. Ranjit.’ She shut her eyes, fear thrilling into her bones. What were you planning?
What have you done?
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
Cassie was good at this. And so she should be. From being the Cranlake Crescent insomniac skulker, she’d slipped naturally and easily into the same role at the Darke Academy. Yes, the school sneak. Why not? Silent and alone, she prowled the halls once more. Though she was never entirely alone, of course. Estelle’s dissent was almost impossible for Cassie to ignore, but she was trying her level best.
Cassandra, you must listen to me. This is a mistake of magnificent proportion. We must stay as far away from this plot as we can … he means to separate us … Cassandra, please …!
Cassie took a deep breath and pushed the spirit’s voice as far back in her mind as she could. There was no way she was turning back. If she’d worked this out right, if Ranjit had decoded the Few manuscript, or at least partof it, and was trying to locate the artefacts, then there was no doubt at all that Sir Alric Darke had found it out by now too. She didn’t have a choice: she had to search his office, try and find out what he knew, how close he was coming to Ranjit.
There was no other movement at all as Cassie crept along the darkened corridors or dodged the shadows of the filigree lamps. Even Marat was lying low, perhaps satisfied with one corpse for now and not in need of intrigue or spying. Outside Sir Alric’s office Cassie paused, ears alert for any sound. Close by, there was only the rustle of a cat in the garden, the frightened squeak of a mouse, and far in the distance the city sounds of traffic and horns and faraway music, drifting across the quiet Bosphorus.
The door was locked, of course. This time she couldn’t pick the lock, having no gold hairpin borrowed from Isabella as she’d had on prior occasions, but that wasn’t problem now. Despite Estelle’s increasing protests, she felt confident enough in her ability to control the bizarre, invisible power she had acquired with her broken induction ceremony. It was pretty straightforward to focus it on the lock, to feel the mechanism’s keyhole start to shift, glowing through the red filter of her vision. Curiously, she stretched out a hand, but that wasn’t necessary – she could feel the incandescent heat of the lock at her fingertips, stinging her skin. Clenching her fist and concentrating harder, the lock clicked open with a satisfying thunk.
Smiling, Cassie pushed open the door. The office was in semi-darkness, but there was the light of the moon, and she moved quickly across the room to switch on that pretty desk lamp. Letting the red fade from her eyes as they adjusted to the dim light, she turned a slow circle, examining the room.
It wasn’t as if she was going to steal anything – she wouldn’t take anything she didn’t have a right to – but seeing as he was clearly not telling the Few everything, she’d have to figure things out for herself. She had a sense of honour, after all. Unlike Sir Alric Darke, she thought bitterly.
But he did protect you, he did save you from the Council, whispered a small inner voice that wasn’t Estelle’s. Maybe there’s a reason he’s hiding things?
That was her conscience, presumably. Cassie chose to ignore it. Can’t afford you any more, she thought. Instead she stood in the centre of the room, glaring around as if her eyes could bore a hole in the wall. Maybe she should try it? No. She’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. She began to hunt through drawers and cabinets.
Her search was methodical, systematic, thorough. When she’d finished with the most obvious places, she began to pull books from the shelves, one by one. She was on the third shelf down when she felt it.
‘Ow!’
It was like electricity, the little jolt of power that surged into her finger. Cassie jumped back, startled, then reached up to that point on the bookshelves again, bumping her fingertip along the spines until she felt that little jolt once again.
Excitement rising inside her, mingling with trepidation, she pulled books from the shelf and piled them on the floor. There, behind them, a small safe was set into the wall.
Wow, she was getting good at this.
No, Cassandra, we mustn’t …
‘Yes, Estelle,’ Cassie muttered, concentrating hard. It was the work of moments this time to manipulate the mechanisms of the safe’s locks, and when she swung open the heavy door and reached inside, she found the cavity was quite deep. Deep enough to hold a green leather folder, old and worn, with that familiar Few symbol embossed in gold on its cover.
Fascinated, she stroked its cover, then sat down in Sir Alric’s chair and laid it on his desk beneath the glow of the ornate lamp.
With a deep breath, she opened it, and then froze.
These were no thin, laser-printed pages; this was the original manuscript. Not only did Darke have the pages she’d found on Ranjit’s computer – and the illustrations were inked in beautiful colours, the engravings on the real thing being even more elaborate and beautiful – but he had the second half of the m
anuscript, too. Cassie swallowed hard, and then quickly began to read.
Here were the things that hadn’t been explained. Of course, the Elders had hidden the two parts separately, so afraid were they of the artefacts being discovered. A reasonable precaution, but pretty pointless in the days of computerised archives and instantly accessible information. Smart they might have been, those Elders, but they hadn’t foreseen the internet … Cassie couldn’t help smiling bitterly. The manuscript could never have been found by an ordinary researching historian, she’d bet her life on that, but a modern Few, technically literate, who knew what he was looking for? Hardly a problem at all.
Cassie lifted the bound pages delicately, laying each one down with care. Yes, here in the second part of the manuscript was the precise location of the Pendant: a basilica in the Hagia Sophia. Ranjit’s having only the first part of the document obviously meant he hadn’t known its location though; he could been searching all over Istanbul for the symbol that was mentioned in his part of the manuscript, and perhaps it had been sheer bloody luck that he’d spotted the carved emblem that day on their school trip. In any case, Ranjit must have, at some point, had this original of the first half in his possession. How else could he have scanned the pages and saved them on his computer? He may have been mysterious but Ranjit was also fiercely intelligent. The scans must have been a precaution. In case … in case someone like Sir Alric came snooping around and took them …
That small pleasure of Ranjit getting one up on Darke died almost immediately. Cassie’s mind whirled. If Sir Alric had the whole manuscript, both parts, then it was always possible that he had also got to the Pendant first.
‘Maybe Ranjit was too late?’ Cassie mumbled, half hoping but not fully believing. She stared at the new page she’d turned, so smooth and yellowed by age. As her eyes skimmed the script, her heart plummeted to the furthest depths of her chest.
Divided Souls (Darke Academy) Page 15
