Mind Blind

by Lari Don

  But they hadn’t always found me. Daniel hadn’t found me on the golf course, when I’d fallen into Vivien’s death. I almost hadn’t climbed out, though. It was too risky, I couldn’t do it again. I just had to run.

  “Goodbye Lucy. I’m going this way. You’re going that way. Goodbye. And good luck.” Though with Malcolm and Mum out hunting, luck was unlikely to save her. Or me.

  CHAPTER 21

  Lucy Shaw, 30th October

  He said goodbye, then he actually flapped his hands at me like I was a pigeon or a stray dog he was trying to shoo away!

  I folded my arms and stood my ground. “You can’t just get rid of me. You need me.”

  “Aye, right. I need you like I need a kick in the teeth.”

  “You do need me, because I know where my uncle lives and you don’t.”

  “I don’t need you any more. Edinburgh isn’t like London. It’s a small city. There won’t be many black English intellectuals called Vincent Shaw living there. If you won’t give me his address, I’ll still find him.”

  “How do you know he’s an intellectual?” What was he reading from my mind? I had to stop thinking near him.

  “Don’t panic! It’s not me mindreading. I just worked it out. Your nana was a research scientist, your grampa’s a writer, your dad’s an optician. You all have exams and degrees. What’s your uncle? A lawyer? A doctor?”

  “I’m not telling you!”

  “Fine. I’ll find out tomorrow. Now off you go, Lucy. I’m on the run and I need to move fast.”

  “I’m not slowing you down! I can run as fast as you.”

  “No, you can’t, not for hours. And you do slow me down, because I have to argue every bloody decision with you.” He scowled at me. He stood with his legs apart, chin out, fists tight, like he was ready for a fight. “I don’t need you. I don’t want you. You’re a danger to me. I’m a danger to you. Now goodbye.”

  I didn’t move. Neither did he.

  I didn’t say anything. I just stood there. Refusing. Solid. Negative.

  It’s quite fun arguing with a mindreader. You don’t even have to speak.

  He almost smiled. “Very impressive. I can hear you thinking ‘No’ as loud as you can. But it would be stupid of me to take you and it would be stupid of you to come. Why do you want to come?”

  I didn’t answer that. Because I didn’t really know.

  He laughed. He knew how confused I was. I couldn’t keep secrets from him. Maybe it’s not so much fun arguing with a mindreader.

  He turned and walked off. I followed.

  “Why are you following me, Lucy? What’s floating around in that wild hairy head of yours?”

  I put my hands up to my hair. I’d lost a clip on the roof, or when we were running, and half my hair was bouncing loose over my left ear.

  He kept talking as I tidied it up. “If you want revenge on me, then relax. I will be in so much trouble with my family if they catch me before I find that flash drive, and they really know how to hurt me, even more than you did in the flat, much more than the police ever could.

  “If you want protection, don’t be fooled by me staying between you and gravity on that roof. I’m not on your side, Lucy, I’m not your guardian angel. I’m trying to protect myself and my family. Don’t trust me to protect you and yours.”

  He paused and concentrated on something, like a dog sniffing the air, then started walking briskly again.

  “If you want answers, I’m not going to tell you any more about us or about Vivien’s death. And you won’t get to read the flash drive, either, because if I find it I’ll destroy it.

  “If you want distraction from your grief, then travelling with Vivien’s killer, looking for what she tried to hide, that’s a stupid way to escape her death. You’d be better reading a good book or having a night out with your friends.”

  He stopped at a corner and faced me. “Whatever you think you’re getting from following me, all you’re doing is annoying me and risking your life. So go away!”

  He turned his back on me and peered round the corner.

  I wasn’t sure how his mindreading worked. He seemed to know so much, but he missed really obvious stuff too.

  He’d nailed most of my reasons for not letting him out of my sight. But he missed a few too. I needed to stay with him to gather as much evidence as I could. Also, I was kind of having fun tonight. And when I could forget his involvement in Viv’s death, I actually almost liked him.

  He swung back round. “Give me the address if you want to help me, Lucy. Then just go.”

  “But don’t you need to keep me with you? So I don’t call the police, tell them what you look like and tell them you’re going to Edinburgh?”

  “Come on, Lucy. I caught you when you were dropping off that roof. You wouldn’t drop me in it now, would you?”

  I didn’t say anything. Just looked daggers at him, made my anger burn as hard as I could.

  “You would as well!” He laughed. “Ok. If you’re giving me the choice of you tagging along or you grassing me up, then please tag along. But remember I can’t keep you safe from my family. I can’t keep myself safe from them.”

  He walked fast round the corner. I jogged after him.

  “So what are we doing?”

  “We’re getting away from Winslow, away from the first places my family will look.”

  “Won’t they know you’re going to Edinburgh?”

  “Yes, of course, they’ll work that out eventually, so we need to get there before them. Stop asking obvious questions!”

  “Well, sorry, but I can’t read minds, so I have to ask questions. If I know

  what we’re doing, I can be helpful.” “And what skills do you have that will be helpful in this situation, Lucy?”

  “You tell me your skills first.”

  “I’m not telling you anything else about me.”

  “I already know that you can read minds, move like a cat burglar assassin, and kick like a horse. And I know that you’re part of some weird Scottish circus mafia, so probably you can also juggle, walk the tightrope and tame lions. But I’ve no idea if you can score a hat-trick in extra time, bake muffins or play the piano.”

  He snorted. “Those are your skills? Football and cakes. Very useful.”

  “I speak fluent French too.”

  “Really? You could give me a hand with that. My French is merde.”

  “You do ordinary stuff like lessons and exams?”

  “Yeah, whatever subjects Mum thinks are relevant. Languages, IT, business studies.”

  “Do you go to school?”

  “Not really. We move around a lot.” He shook his head. “Stop prying. You can ask about the journey, in case you have any bright ideas, but don’t ask about my life or my family.”

  I shrugged. “I was just being friendly.”

  “I don’t do friendly.”

  “I can tell.”

  “Anyway, you weren’t just being friendly. You were digging for information.”

  But I don’t think I was digging. If I’m not sure of my motives, how can he be?

  “We don’t need cakes just now, Lucy, but your local knowledge should be useful. Where can we get a taxi?”

  “We can phone one.”

  “Hailing one is harder to trace.”

  I nodded. “There’s a 24-hour rank ten minutes from here.”

  “Lead the way, please.”

  I took the next right. “Where do we want the taxi to take us?”

  “Euston or Kings Cross, for a train to Edinburgh.”

  “Flying is faster.”

  “You have to show ID to get on a plane,” he said. “Trains are anonymous.”

  “But if your family fly, they’ll get there much faster.”

  “Only once they work out where I’m going. They don’t even know I’m working this job yet, and when they realise, they’ll try the Winslow addresses before they think of your uncle in Edinburgh. If we get an early train, we could be t
here before lunchtime, while they’re still searching down here.”

  As we walked through the empty streets, he kept checking his phone and frowning. I got my own phone out to check train times. He peered over my shoulder suspiciously, but nodded when he saw my screen.

  “The first train is just after 5.30, from Euston, via Glasgow,” I said. “Do you have enough money for a ticket?”

  “Yes. I’ll pay for yours too. We’ll use cash rather than cards.”

  Cash? For two train tickets? Murder must be profitable.

  I had so many questions:

  How did his mindreading work?

  Did he know everything I was thinking all the time? I didn’t think so, or he wouldn’t have had to check what I was doing with the phone.

  So was his mindreading fuzzier at a distance, and clearer close up?

  Was that why touching me freaked him out?

  What did his family do for a living?

  Why had Viv been so scared that she used Nana’s urn as a hiding place?

  And why did they kill her?

  I knew he wouldn’t want to tell me, but I hoped I might get answers when we were stuck on a train together for five hours.

  So I kept quiet and kept walking. He kept looking at his phone like it might bite him. Though surely he knew the real danger was walking beside him.

  CHAPTER 22

  Ciaran Bain, 30th October

  It was my duty to contact my family.

  Now I knew they were following my trail, it was my duty to warn them about the surveillance teams.

  But if I told them not to go near the Shaw residences, they would know I was working this job and they’d realise the next logical destination was Edinburgh. We would lose our headstart.

  Lucy led us onto a walkway over a bypass. The noise of the traffic below was constant, even at 4 a.m.

  The noise in my head never stops either. Except when I climb mountains in weather too wet and miserable for anyone else to be within miles of me.

  I didn’t let the traffic noise distract me. I had to decide. Our headstart versus my family’s safety.

  I wasn’t trying to find the flash drive just to prove I could cope outside. I was also doing it to protect my family. It would be pointless to win the race to the urn if half my family got arrested on the way.

  I had to warn them.

  I thumbed a text to Malcolm.

  Don’t worry. Not gone rogue. Tidying up shaw job loose ends. Alert all teams – don’t go near shaw residences cos staked out by plainclothes police. Bain

  I took a deep breath and sent it.

  He replied within two minutes.

  Mission not authorised. Report back to base now. U r not up to this Bain. U r putting us all at risk. Come back in or we take u out.

  Take you out, not take you in. I shivered.

  But now I knew where I stood. I knew they were after me. If Malcolm had said, ‘Ok, go for it, I trust you to sort it out,’ I wouldn’t have known if I could believe him. And at least I’d warned them about the police. They’d check out the Winslow houses anyway, but they wouldn’t blunder in, and if they knew there were police about, they’d be unlikely to harm the Shaws.

  My phone buzzed again. A text from Mum this time. I sighed and opened it:

  Come home now Ciaran or I’m not sure I can protect you any more. Please! Mum x

  I put my phone on silent and slipped it in my pocket. There was no point in replying to Malcolm. I’d nothing to say to him now until I succeeded. Or failed. There was no point in replying to Mum either, because as usual I couldn’t do what she wanted me to do.

  We were walking through a built-up area, surrounded by offices containing a handful of almost awake people. Probably cleaners or security staff, going through familiar routines.

  Lucy’s presence was much clearer, sharper. She was a tired mess of emotions: hate and concern, curiosity and pity, excitement and revenge. At least she wasn’t asking questions.

  Then suddenly I was assaulted by an increase in volume, a crashing wave of emotions, hundreds of people lurching into my head without warning, crowds of them feeling pain, fear, grief, panic.

  I stopped. I couldn’t move any closer.

  I realised I was sitting on the pavement. I scrabbled back a few metres, past where the volume had first risen, until the emotions were faint enough for me to breathe and think.

  Lucy turned round. “Come on. The taxis are this way.”

  “Where is this all-night taxi rank?” I gasped. “It’s not a train station or a… Shit. It’s a hospital, isn’t it?”

  “Yeah. People come and go all night to A&E. There are always taxis.”

  “And always people in agony, people dying. I can’t go any closer to all that pain.”

  “Sorry.” She wasn’t sorry. “I didn’t realise it would bother you. You really can’t survive in the real world, can you? But could you crawl to the taxi rank? It’s just round the corner. Or I suppose you could stay here, and I could bring a taxi back for you.”

  “Would you come back?” I asked.

  She shrugged. “Would you still be here?”

  I shrugged.

  She laughed. “Well, you look like death warmed up, so you’ll fit right in at the hospital. Grit your teeth, get round that corner, get into a taxi and I’ll tell the driver to take us to Euston. You’ll be ok once we drive further away, won’t you?”

  I nodded. “Give me a minute, and I’ll try to get round the corner.”

  We were far enough from the Shaw houses that there weren’t likely to be any of my family or a surveillance team nearby. It was probably safe to try out my weakest skill: stopping other people’s emotions from polluting my head. Could I manage it well enough to walk round a corner without falling over?

  I sat with my head in my hands and tried, like I had in the van with Vivien, to build a wall round my mind to stop the world getting in.

  Uncle Greg says positive emotions work best as building blocks. He suggests love. Aye, right.

  Or happiness. Which I’ve never been much good at.

  Or good memories. Or hopes and ambitions. All too fluffy for me.

  The only thing which works for me is building a wall of hate.

  I’ve managed it a couple of times with a smooth cold silver wall of hate. Invading emotions can’t get a grip, they slip off.

  So, on the gritty pavement, with Lucy hovering, I built a wall of hate.

  I hated Malcolm, who never hides his contempt for my weakness.

  I hated my mum, who brought me into this family.

  I hated my dad, who didn’t take me when he left.

  The wall wasn’t high enough. The hospital emotions were still lapping over the top. Who else?

  I hated Roy, who could get out and leave me behind.

  I hated Daniel, because he enjoys using his skills.

  I hated Vivien, for pulling my mask off and for having to die.

  I hated Ivy Shaw, for experimenting on Billy Reid.

  I hated Lucy for… for what? None of this was her fault. But I could hate her for seeing me collapse. For seeing me cry. Yeah, I hated her too.

  And I hated myself, most of all, for being so bloody useless…

  All this good strong hate ringed round my mind, pushing away the fear and pain of the hospital.

  I’d built a wall to protect me. But now I couldn’t sense anyone approaching, I couldn’t sense any threats. Now I was mindblind.

  I hauled myself up, holding tight to my hate.

  Lucy jogged along the road then round the corner towards a massive white hospital. I lurched like a zombie after her, legs sliding out from under me. I staggered over a flowerbed on a roundabout towards a row of black cabs.

  Hate. Weakness.

  Hate. Contempt.

  Hate. Resentment.

  Hate…

  I got there.

  I fell into the front taxi and collapsed onto the seat. I heard Lucy saying, “Euston please, going by Egham, not by Winslow.
”

  Clever route, I thought. That momentary admiration put a crack in my hate, the silver wall crumbled and the hospital misery slithered in.

  I sensed someone near death.

  I sensed someone lose hope.

  I felt someone die…

  I slipped off the seat onto the taxi floor.

  “Is your boyfriend ok?” I half-heard the taxi driver over the sound of the engine starting up. “He won’t throw up, will he? He’s not infectious, is he?”

  “He’s just been up all night,” Lucy said. “He’ll be fine.”

  I could sense the driver’s reluctance. He didn’t want me in his taxi. But I desperately needed him to drive away.

  I dragged myself onto the flip-up seat behind him. I pulled out a £50 note and passed it to him. “Just get us to the station,” I said as clearly as I could. “Thanks.”

  Then I slammed the shutter closed, fastened the seat belt to hold myself up and dropped my head down. I let go completely, sliding under the waves of pain thudding out of the hospital.

  The taxi drove off, and the emotional chaos drained slowly away.

  When, finally, I could think enough to move, I sat up.

  Lucy was shaking her head. I sensed sharp claws of curiosity and a twinge of amusement. “You’re not exactly a superhero, are you? All that muscle and kick and cleverness, but you turn to jelly every time someone gets a little emotional.”

  “A little emotional! Lucy, there were people dying in there. I felt them die.”

  “Poor you, you’re so sensitive! But that didn’t stop you killing my sister, did it? Did you have a little cry after she died?”

  “Keep your voice down!”

  The barrier was closed. The intercom light was off. The driver had switched his radio on. But even so, words like ‘kill’ and ‘die’ have a way of making themselves heard.

  I checked his mind was on the road, not on us, then I looked at Lucy. She was generating hate far better than I just had, almost exploding with it.

  “Did you lose it like this when Viv died?”

  She wasn’t going to stop asking questions and I didn’t have the strength to distract her.