Disharmony

by Leah Giarratano

  ‘What have you got here?’ she said, opening it. ‘Are you lost?’

  It took her a couple of seconds to register what she was looking at. When she did, she threw the notepad as though it had burned her. She stood there, wild eyed, trying to process what she had seen. The boy ran after his pad, retrieved it and held it to his chest. He faced her, head slightly askance. She felt suddenly weak at the knees.

  He’d shown her an ink drawing of a person that was unmistakeably her, standing right here in the shadow of the bridge, holding a phone. And beside her was the boy, wearing a striped T-shirt and no shoes and clutching a notepad.

  What the hell?

  ‘Were you watching me?’ she said. ‘Why did you draw that?’

  The boy stood there morosely. The drawing astounded her – there was such incredible detail. She couldn’t have been here for more than five minutes – how had he captured everything so perfectly? Actually, not perfectly, she suddenly realised; there had been other people in his depiction, and a bus pulled over to watch fireworks over the harbour.

  Sam shook her head tiredly. She turned to walk away, unable to deal with this strange stalker-artist after everything else that had happened tonight.

  And right then a bus rounded the street corner ahead and the harbour exploded in coloured pinwheels and shooting stars of light.

  Sam sat down hard on the footpath and stared at the cascading fireworks, at the bus, and at the tourists piling out to snap photos. Beyond the railing a frigid mist rippled over the harbour.

  She could not find a word to say.

  Elizabeth Bay, Sydney, Australia

  July 2, 7.20 p.m.

  Luke bumped into the wall on the way to the bathroom and giggled. He frowned. He’d never giggled before.

  Suddenly all thoughts were ejected from his mind as he was shoulder-charged from his feet, into the air, through the doorway to his bedroom. He scudded chin-first across the carpet. The door to the room closed.

  ‘What are you doing?’ hissed Zac, standing over him.

  ‘What are you doing, nutjob?’ said Luke, pulling himself into a sitting position. ‘What the hell did you push me like that for?’

  He touched his fingertips to his chin and they came away red.

  ‘Ouch,’ he said.

  ‘Ouch?’ said Zac, throwing his hands in the air. ‘That’s all you can say? We’ve just broken out of lockup and escaped an assassin; I’ve told you that you are a part of destiny and that you’re being hunted; and I’ve told you that we need to find your twin sister and younger brother as fast as possible. And you’ve just spent the entire day playing computer games and eating!’

  ‘Well, no wonder I’m tired after all that,’ said Luke, standing. ‘Can’t we relax for a bit?’

  He had to admit he couldn’t remember ever feeling this tired, especially when he’d had so much sleep.

  ‘Um, no,’ said Zac. ‘This is my whole point. We can’t relax. We need to find out more about the Telling. And we need to get out of this house.’

  ‘You really don’t like Georgia, do you?’ said Luke.

  ‘I don’t trust her. I don’t trust the cats. And I don’t trust this house.’

  ‘The cats again.’ Luke rolled his eyes. ‘That’s pretty harsh coming from such an animal lover.’ He moved towards the bathroom. ‘Are you going to follow me in there, too?’ he said.

  Zac stood there, fists clenched.

  Luke splashed his face with cold water. He poked at the green-yellow puffiness around his left eye, surprised to see it there; he’d become accustomed to a narrow view of the world and had forgotten about the black eye. He sighed. He understood that he should be feeling pretty wrecked, given what they’d just been through, but still, he couldn’t believe how tired he was. He’d planned on catching a nap, as Georgia was doing, but Zac’s sense of urgency was beginning to worry him. Why didn’t he feel that way too? He remembered feeling a pressure to discover who he was, but the drive had left him. He felt as though he was drunk.

  He left the bathroom. ‘We’ll leave first thing tomorrow,’ he said to Zac. ‘But I really need to get some rest tonight.’

  ‘It’s only seven o’clock,’ said Zac.

  Luke yawned.

  ‘I think she could be drugging the food,’ said Zac.

  ‘You’re paranoid.’ But the suggestion set off a tick in Luke’s mind. ‘Why would she do that?’ he said.

  ‘Maybe she knows who you are.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘How do I know?’

  Luke shook his head. ‘It’s impossible,’ he said. ‘Even if she somehow knew who I’m supposed to be, how could she possibly be on the exact train we were on when we broke out of Dwight? I didn’t even know we were going to be on that train.’

  ‘Well, she’s up to something. Listen, you know how she told us that all her brothers are away at school? Well, I’ve heard something in that room she told us to stay out of.’

  ‘When?’

  ‘A couple of times,’ said Zac. ‘I reckon there’s someone in there.’

  ‘I doubt it. Why haven’t we seen them? They’d have to eat sometime, right?’

  ‘Well, Georgia’s in her room, asleep, or doing whatever she does in there,’ said Zac. ‘Come and listen for yourself.’

  ‘Yeah, whatever.’

  He followed Zac quietly up the stairs to the third level of the house. The doors to the two rooms they’d raided for clothes were slightly ajar. Georgia’s bedroom doors were shut, as were those of the off-limits room. They tiptoed towards it.

  Zac put his ear to the door, motioning to Luke to do the same. Luke tilted his head close, feeling sort of stupid. What if Georgia walked out here right now? She’d told them to keep away from here.

  He wrinkled his brow when he thought he heard a sound from inside, like maybe a door being gently closed.

  See? Zac’s eyebrows asked him.

  Maybe the sound came from outside, he thought. This room must face the street. He reached out and ultra-carefully tried the door handle. Locked. Hmm. Shouldn’t be a problem.

  He turned back towards the stairs, motioning Zac to follow.

  Back in his room, he went straight to the middle pillow and reached a hand into the pillowslip. He turned to face Zac.

  ‘You really wanna know what’s in there?’ he said, holding out the torque wrench and rake.

  ‘Are you crazy?’ hissed Zac. ‘No. I just wanted you to know that this chick isn’t telling us everything, that’s all. Let’s just get out of here.’

  ‘But aren’t you a teensy bit interested now?’

  Suddenly, Luke felt much more alert. The locked door was a puzzle, just like the riddles online. He wanted to know what was behind the door.

  He raised his eyebrows, asking without speaking, Coming?

  Zac sighed.

  They made their way quietly back up the stairs.

  Circular Quay, Sydney, Australia

  July 2, 7.20 p.m.

  Samantha felt unnerved by the tall boy standing silently above her. He’d been holding that notepad out in front of him for several minutes. She didn’t want to touch it. How could there possibly be such a picture? Who had drawn it?

  The boy had arrived right after she’d used the phone – had Sera sent him? Maybe he was the next part of her destiny. Maybe she was just crazy with fatigue. In any event, her bum was cold. She reached out her hand and the boy took it, pulling her up from the wet pavement.

  ‘Who are you?’ she tried again.

  He twisted his full lips into a worried grimace and held the pad out to her. She took it.

  He’d turned the page to a new picture. She felt a thrill jangle painfully through her stomach – excitement threaded with fear.

  She recognised the railings bordering the harbour – she was standing right next to them. But there was no Opera House in this picture. What there was, though, was an image of herself standing next to the boy in the striped T-shirt, this time viewed only from behind. They
stood facing a small structure, maybe the size of a phone-box, situated right on the edge of the water.

  She looked up at the boy, frowning with confusion. ‘What is this?’ she said.

  He pointed.

  Her gaze followed his arm and she gasped. Maybe eighty metres from where they stood was the white structure from the picture. It resembled a miniature lighthouse. She hadn’t noticed it before, but given her extraordinary surroundings and the even more bizarre things that had taken place in them, this did not surprise her.

  So – what did this mean? Was she supposed to go over there with him? She took another look at the picture.

  ‘Let’s go,’ she said.

  They reached the small building within a couple of minutes. She realised that it was not quite as tiny as it had seemed. She guessed that it was some sort of historical structure with a maritime purpose. It didn’t seem to be of much use – it was windowless and would fit maybe four people standing upright, and given that it was right on the edge of one of the most beautiful harbours in the world, it seemed to be pretty much wasted space. And whatever was in there was closed off to the world by a blue door.

  ‘What now?’ she said, looking up at the boy by her side.

  She realised that someone viewing them from behind right now would be looking at the precise image captured on his notepad.

  He reached into a pocket in his jeans and pulled out an old-fashioned key. He held it between thumb and forefinger, a question in his eyes.

  ‘You want me to go in there with you?’ she said.

  I don’t think so, she thought. I don’t know you. Once we’re in there anything could happen. Maybe you think I’m some lost, naive little girl, but I’ve been running with Birthday Jones for five years…

  At the thought of Birthday, the indignation melted away, leaving a residue of grief. Still, she wasn’t stupid. She opened her mouth to tell him to come up with another suggestion, and he gave her a lopsided, apprehensive smile. She supposed he was trying for reassuring. What he looked like was a kid trying to convince his mum not to take him to the dentist.

  A train rumbled over the bridge behind them and she glanced up at it, startled from the moment by the sound. Rain began to fall again, spitting down onto her upturned face.

  What the hell. She couldn’t sense any danger from him. She didn’t feel that he wanted to hurt her. And at least it would be dry in there.

  ‘Open it up,’ she said.

  She watched him push open the door, and peered around his broad shoulders. It was nothing but a dark, empty room. She wasn’t sure what she’d been expecting. Maybe this could be a safe place to stay until morning; although it looked as though she’d be sleeping sitting up, given its size.

  At least it didn’t look as though her night was going to get any weirder.

  Shangri-La Hotel, Sydney, Australia

  July 2, 7.21 p.m.

  ‘Harder,’ said Kirra Kiyota, draped in a towel, lying face down on a massage table in the penthouse suite of the Shangri-La Hotel. ‘I’m not going to tell you again.’

  The Yakuza assassin massaging his boss cringed at the tone in her voice.

  ‘I’m sorry, Kirra,’ he said, applying more pressure to her petite shoulders and neck. He was stripped down to his waist, full-torso warrior tattoos the only thing covering his martial-arts-honed chest and arms.

  Kirra wanted the rest of her crew to see Golden Tiger, one of the most feared fighters in their Yakuza family, humiliated this way. He and the rest of the crew had failed her.

  She turned her head towards the spectacular view of Sydney spread out three hundred and sixty degrees around the room. But she did not see the glamorous jewellery box that was Sydney at night from thirty-five floors in the sky. She saw only the image of the gypsy witch and her gesture of contempt at the airport. If anyone else had dared disrespect Kirra that way, she would not have rested until she found them and personally cut out their heart.

  Kirra sent her thoughts out into the night, hunting her. Where are you, little witch?

  Despite the expert massage – Golden Tiger had trained under Takashi Shadow, studying many forms of healing as well as killing – her muscles were taut. She hated the cold, and had the room-heating pumping. She was definitely not happy that they’d missed the female in Romania – twice. She’d been looking forward to summer in Europe once they’d completed their mission. But then losing her at the airport had been inexcusable. She knew that she had lost face with the Chairman. She could not afford to fail again.

  The girl had help. Kirra knew that now, but she also knew that she was facing something more than their usual enemies like the law, rival Yakuza, other gangsters. No, this gypsy seemed to be protected by spirits of some kind. Kirra did not know what had happened at the airport, but she had never seen a crowd whipped into a frenzy like that. Their eyes had been blank – as though they’d been possessed.

  At least they’d been able to outrun the police who had come after them. Did the gypsy have them on her side too?

  Kirra hoped that the Chairman had obtained a fortune for this contract. There was definitely something supernatural going on here. And now there was another mark. A boy. Same age, same instructions: bring them both in alive. She’d issued multiple photographs of their new target to her crew. They’d all studied them thoroughly.

  Her ringtone sounded. She gathered the thick towel about her slender body, pushed Golden Tiger away and sat up.

  Her number one soldier, Dagger’s Breath, held the phone out towards her, his eyes hooded with hate. Since he’d let the gypsy girl go when he was shoulder-shot in Romania, the beautiful scar through his lip had glowed vivid white, as it did only when he was enraged. She knew that the scar would not return to normal until he had the girl in his hands again.

  ‘Thank you,’ she said, reaching for the phone. She held it to her ear for a moment and then disconnected, tossing it onto the bed.

  ‘Saddle up,’ she said to her team, who watched her soundlessly. ‘We know where they are.’

  Elizabeth Bay, Sydney, Australia

  July 2, 7.24 p.m.

  If they were caught this time, they couldn’t just pretend to be curious.

  Luke had his tools in under the handle of the only door Georgia had told them to stay away from. If she walked out of her room right now, there’d be nothing they could say but see ya, thanks for the memories.

  Georgia’s home was much older than any Luke had been in before and he wasn’t used to this type of lock. Like most internal doors, it had no keyhole, but this one also had a lever-lock mechanism. And while he would have been inside the locked door of a regular bedroom in sixty seconds – even if he only had a matchstick, bobby pin, credit card or paperclip – he’d been working on this one for a good three minutes.

  One step away, Zac shifted from foot to foot. Luke ignored him and breathed out. He allowed his thoughts to slide one more time into the lock, and yep – there it was – he popped the lever. He looked up over his shoulder at Zac. Grinned. It’s now or never, his smile said.

  He opened the door.

  Other than some furniture, the semi-lit room was empty. Luke walked in, squatted beside the big four-poster bed to peer underneath – just to make sure – and then checked out the rest of the room. Waste of time, really. Nothing to see in here. He turned around and shrugged.

  ‘Pretty boring,’ he said.

  ‘Someone left the lamp on,’ said Zac, pointing with his chin to the desk.

  ‘People with houses like this don’t worry about electricity.’

  ‘Yeah, well, I still think I heard someone in here,’ said Zac. ‘And I still have a really bad feeling. I just think now’s the time to get out of this house.’

  ‘Maybe you’re right,’ said Luke.

  He walked up to the window and cracked the blind a fraction. The lamp-lit street beyond the tropical garden was slick with rain. Out there waited the real world, the wealthy and the wannabes of Elizabeth Bay. And around the corn
er was Kings Cross, where the dark and damaged of Sydney did business.

  Suddenly, he wondered what he’d been doing in this house for so long. It was time to move. Something big was definitely going on, and playing PSII was not going to help him learn what that was.

  Zac froze on his way to the door and Luke heard it a split-second later. He dropped and rolled, but even though Zac had been further away, he was still first under the bed.

  They both locked eyes on the source of the sound. The wardrobe? They waited. Nothing.

  Luke had half made up his mind to crawl out from under the bed when one of the cupboard doors squeaked open. He scuttled backwards silently, grateful that the desk lamp wasn’t powerful enough to banish the shadows hiding them.

  The door opened further. Who hides in their own cupboard? he wondered. This oughta be interesting.

  Although he was completely focused on the wardrobe, he barely noticed the barefoot kid in the striped T-shirt who stepped out of it.

  Because there was someone else in there behind him. He could sense her. And he was already halfway out from under the bed when she spoke.

  ‘Luke?’ she said, stepping out of the wardrobe.

  ‘Samantha?’ he said.

  He stood up, ready to meet his sister.

  ***

  Luke wasn’t sure what he’d been expecting when he met his twin sister. He hadn’t really had time to think a lot about it. Two days ago, he didn’t even know that this girl – with her arms locked around his neck in a death grip – existed.

  But now that she was here, he realised that somehow, somewhere, he’d always known.

  And everything felt wrong. Not wrong, exactly – more like right. Everything felt right. But not right, exactly. More like something he had never felt before. As Samantha clung to him, sobbing, Luke felt his heart pulsing in synch with hers, he felt each beat becoming more noticeable, more painful, more loud. He hugged her back. This stranger. The only family he’d ever known.