by M J Sherlock
Stella handed us each a plate of lasagne. ‘Let them eat first, Pierre. Save your questions.’
I gave her a slight nod and helped myself to salad.
Taine was the first to speak, ‘Your drill almost killed us.’ His voice was hard and angry, biting out the words.
Pierre flinched while Stella choked on her drink. It took several moments for her to recover.
‘I fell into a bog and couldn’t get out,’ I added in the same tone. ‘Taine was on another planet and didn’t hear my yells. My screams came out as strangled yelps.’ I sipped some of my water. ‘By then I was hip deep in oozing mud. I thought some archaeologist would find me a hundred years from now.’
Stella squeezed my hand, but I pulled it free, not ready to forgive.
‘Then I screamed at the perfect frequency to penetrate even Taine’s brain. Even then it took several attempts before he yanked me free.’
‘Sorry,’ said Pierre in an even voice, ‘I underestimated the effect of the storm and was unaware of the bogs.’
Taine stiffened. ‘Like you forgot how far it was or the risk of stray bullets finding us when you sent your cronies after us?’
Stella’s eyes widened and her mouth gaped. Pierre hadn’t warned her.
‘Needed to make it realistic.’ His face was impassive. ‘What?’ He raised an eyebrow as Stella continued to gape.
‘The mud made us chafe and blister,’ said Taine moodily as if he wanted to kick something.
I winced, my mind drawn to my throbbing blisters and the chafing between my legs.
Taine hadn’t finished. ‘Did you pea-brains consider the dangers of water-logged ground? We slipped, slid and fell on our faces repeatedly.’
He pulled off his black hoodie and his t-shirt showing the bruises all over his top half. Some were finger-sized from where I had grasped him when he rescued me from the bog. Cuts littered his hands. I had a matching set and more.
Pierre cleared his throat.
Stella rounded on him. ‘You said they would be safe. A bit of exercise and a scare.’ Her usual polite, dignified tone descended into a screech and she gestured with her arms. ‘You went too far.’
Seeing her so rattled went some way towards appeasing my anger but not enough to stop me spitting as I spoke. ‘If it hadn’t been for the portal-’
‘-Portal?’ Stella’s face drained of colour.
Taine clenched and unclenched his fists as his face reddened. ‘Portal near the lake. We dived through when Pierre’s mates fired at us.’ Taine’s voice increased in volume and speed until it felt like he hurled his words at them.
Stella spoke equally hard and fast. ‘How could you dive into an unknown portal after all my warnings?’
By this point, I was fizzing mad. ‘How could you both send us out straight after a three hour storm, terrify us and let people shoot at us?’ I put a hand to my stomach, feeling it spasm.
All four of us started yelling in a raucous, cacophony of sound. It was impossible to make out the details.
Taine put two fingers in his mouth and whistled. ‘Time out.’
Pierre and Stella flushed.
‘This place feels more and more like an oubliette every day. We need to go somewhere normal,’ said Taine, ‘replace our wrecked stuff. Find an arcade or something and have fun.’
‘I need to ring my parents and friends. Taine needs to see Imal.’
After prolonged heated discussions, Stella agreed to take us to Orléans. We would stay overnight and then go shopping the next day. Pierre stayed behind to renovate the house. He probably wanted time out from us as much as we did from him. We stayed in town twice as long as we intended, allowing more time for shopping and for Taine to meet up with Imal. I picked up some souvenirs for family and friends.
On the return journey, Stella said, ‘Has Pierre ever told you how we met?’
‘No. Why?’ I asked.
‘Ask him. It may help you understand him and the Venator better.’
‘What’s he got to do with the Venator?’ demanded Taine.
Stella drove down the rutted track that led to the Forgotten Place. ‘His story - ask him.’
There was no sign of Pierre when we returned so we waited to ask until the next day. He found us over by the assault courses. He was nursing a mug of tea. ‘Stella says you want my life history. Want my inside leg measurement too?’
I started to say, ‘We-’
He marched us over to a bench at the bottom of the assault courses. We sat but he remained standing. Awkward.
‘At seven, Social Services took me into Care. How anyone could call it that...’ Pierre fixed his eyes on a tree behind us. ‘Never knew my father. He scarpered as soon as my mother became pregnant. She had no family. Few friends.’ He spoke in a flat, low, emotionless tone. ’When she topped herself, there was no one to step in.’ He gulped some of his tea and shuffled his feet.
We didn’t move a muscle. Pierre’s tale was nothing like I anticipated.
‘I was sent to a Group Home run by the Venator at the age of seven. They own lots. Giving back to society, they called it. More like a brainwashing camp.’ He set the black mug at his feet. ‘Worse, they ran their own schools and lock-ups for naughty boys. What I did to deserve that label, I have no idea.’ His eyes were dead, with none of their usual mischief. ‘There they could do what they liked. Social services washed their hands of us. Ungrateful, we deserved what we got...’
I shifted uncomfortably as I struggled not to clog the silence with questions. Taine had taken his Étoile out and was rolling it around in his hands.
‘They got us up at five. Made us exercise for two hours before breakfast.’
Taine and I exchanged glances. Sounded familiar. We started walking together as he kept talking. Birds twittered and warbled in the patch of trees in front of us. The blisters on my left heel and little toe pinched. I might get a pin and pop them again later.
‘We had chores for ninety minutes. Something foul and disgusting like cleaning a toilet or the floor with a toothbrush.’
Yuck. I wrinkled my nose. Gross. I wiped my hands against my leggings.
‘Obedience school without the treats. We soon learned to jump to it and obey without question. Anyone who didn’t…’
‘What happened?’ asked Taine. Gone was his earlier disinterest instead he angled towards Pierre.
‘Put it this way, they knew how to punish without leaving scars. Or at least, only ones that could be explained... Officer, I told him not to climb that roof. Not surprised he broke his leg…’
‘Wow,’ I mouthed to Taine. I gulped. Blisters and chafing were nothing in comparison.
‘After a while Social Services stopped even checking on us. The violence escalated.’
What could be worse than what he’d already told us?
Twigs and pinecones cracked under our feet as we padded through the wood. Squirrels skittered out our path.
‘They used the older, sly kids to inflict pain on the younger ones. Some enjoyed it a bit too much… They littered kids’ bodies with cigarette burns or held their hands closed over barbed wire as blood dripped unchecked...’
I gaped. How had he remained sane? This was worse than stories I’d heard from my friends with abusive parents. ‘Is that what happened to your face?’ Oops. I flushed. I hadn’t meant to speak.
‘Thanks for the reminder.’ His pointed stare and raised eyebrow made me squirm.
‘They shoved me down concrete steps. I landed on my face, crushing the bones. No hospital. They butchered me. Let the older kids stitch me up. They laughed. No anaesthetic.’
I shuddered. ‘Did you get out at sixteen?’
‘No-one left unless in a body bag.’ His eyes were dark and sad.
Who was he remembering? A pair of rabbits darted into the undergrowth to the left of me. ‘But-’
‘-I learned early how to play the game,’ he smiled grimly, ‘completed all their training and several missions. I absconded once they thought I was one of them.
I am the longest surviving escapee.’
‘How?’ Taine kicked at branches that lined the path.
Startled crows flew out of bushes ahead of us, cawing their dismay. We meandered back towards the house.
‘I was nineteen. Had a mission to take out some Guardians in the Ardennes in Belgium. The forest stretched for miles, easy enough to scout ahead and disappear. I had some running away money which I supplemented with odd jobs along the way.’
‘What about passports and papers?’ I asked as the dormer windows of the house popped into view.
‘The Venator had blank ones lying around. Easy enough to make myself up a fake one and register it.’
We’d gone full circle.
‘I’ll catch up with you later.’ Pierre stalked off.
Taine and I wandered back to the house and into the kitchen.
‘Not what I expected.’ I used a high stool to search for chocolate. Stella should hide things better if she didn’t want them eaten.
‘Explains a lot.’ Taine poured us both some filter coffee from the flask on the worktop.
I took a mug from him and added a dash of milk. ‘Tortured from the age of seven. Makes me wonder about the Venator who came after me. Did they have a choice?’
‘If they are firing at you, don’t let that stop you.’
Taine’s brusque words hung in my head as I returned to my room. Would self-defence lead to more death? How could we disrupt the cycle? Was it even possible? I took a sip of coffee and broke open the chocolate. Did Pierre’s story change anything? I couldn’t decide.
The days flew by. Pierre still woke us up regularly in the early hours of the morning and dropped us off in the middle of nowhere. No portals appeared to ease our way instead we relied on map, compass and the light of the moon. If that didn’t work, we locked on to the signal on Stella’s Étoile and found our way home.
Pierre chuckled when we asked about night vision goggles. ‘It’s unlikely a pair will be around when you need one, so learn to do without.’
Hot food and drinks awaited our return. Pierre no longer waited up. His motion sensors warned him when we were in range. He would get up and check we were uninjured before disappearing back to bed.
Pierre taught us how to use a concealed dagger or knife to deadly effect. Stella protested, dragging him off for long muffled conversations in French too rapid for me to follow. Pierre would then come back and carry on as planned. Stella avoided our training and focused instead on running the house.
I practiced throwing knives at paper targets. Initially I kept missing. Pierre came up behind me, prickling my neck with the bristles on his chin. He corrected my throwing arm. It seemed to come more naturally to Taine than me. Unlike me, he was a keen darts player.
Once I mastered the paper targets, Pierre moved me onto throwing knives at scarecrows. They were dressed in jeans and t-shirt, suits or combat fatigues. He had them rigged on pulleys, so they appeared at random. Sometimes he used smoke to hide them. I began to understand Stella’s objections.
Pierre woke us frequently to go on a long march or fight some simulated battle. Conditioning he called it. ‘You need to be alert and ready to fight at all times.’
We learned to fight or sleep, anytime, anywhere. He taught us to scan for danger. We practiced in nearby towns as Pierre bombarded us with questions. ‘How many exits from this park? This shopping centre? This café?’ He taught us where to find real or makeshift weapons. In a surprise attack, we would be able to defend ourselves.
The panic attacks that plagued me after Vashtin’s death disappeared. Pierre and Taine went off together for hours. Taine never shared the details of their discussions but he grew happier, more content. While they were gone Stella taught me French. Each of our training sessions ended with food and drink. In warm weather, we sat outside to eat, enjoying the sun on our faces. Sometimes Taine and I would swim in the water tank.
Days slipped by. Towards the end of our stay, Stella instructed us on portals. 'I found shimmering doorways near historic open spaces across Britain. Most were safe houses, but portal enhancers have an outer rim of blue. An Étoile can also boost the signal between portals.’
‘How does that help?’ Taine bounced a ball against the wall. It hit with a cheap plastic squeak.
Stella sat next to me on a swing bench as the late afternoon sun beat down on us. ‘You can use them together to travel the country without burning yourself out.’
‘Do the blue rims always show?’ I hadn't noticed any on my trips around London. A gust of wind caught the swing, rocking us back and forth.
‘They have for me,’ said Stella. ‘Perhaps you have to know about them first?’
‘What was the longest trip you ever did?’ asked Taine.
‘I once travelled from Cardiff to Edinburgh within a few minutes. Sometimes portals mess with time. I never learned to control it so can’t tell you more.'
Using portals could reduce our reliance on cash and public transport. The possibilities were endless. Taine and I discussed it long into the night. Next day we packed ready to leave.
‘How can a cloak be used as a short-range portal?' Taine asked Stella.
'You need to keep a clear picture of where you are going. Not easy in an ambush.' She folded bedding into bin bags so we could return it to the penthouse.
'If I am cornered by a Venator I won’t be as helpless now.' I screwed up the last of my t-shirts, wedging it into the left corner of my purple suitcase.
'Don’t get cocky. Here’s your own cloak so you don’t need to rely on Taine’s.' Stella handed me a soft woollen cloak that blended with its surroundings like a chameleon.
I gave her a squeeze. 'Thanks.'
We used the cloaks to whizz around until Stella called time. Taine and I were no longer helpless prey. Both of us were tanned, fit and full of energy. Taine seemed happier, more secure, as if he now belonged and perhaps hadn't earlier.
I grabbed a couple of drinks from the kitchen before returning to the living room and tossing Taine a can. 'What do you reckon our friends and family will say?' I felt homesick.
'Who knows? You look different. Your pinched expression has gone.’ Taine sprawled sideways across an armchair.
I lay on my stomach on the brown sofa across from him. 'You’ve lost fat and put on muscle.'
'Stop worrying, you’ll be home soon enough. Besides Pierre will spring a trap at any moment.’ Taine stared at the cracks in the ceiling.
When Pierre’s mates ambushed us later that day, we were ready. Almost. We put up a convincing fight, but they trounced us. The light smile on Pierre’s face said he was proud. We had more to learn but our progress was worth celebrating.
The next day we set off back to London. On the platform at Gare du Nord, Stella took me to one side. She gave me an envelope. ‘Don’t open it until you are alone. Last night Annie told me to give you access to my safety deposit box.’
I had to strain to hear her or make myself heard above the noise of trains, distorted tannoy announcements and the press of tourists as they tramped past.
‘What’s in it?’ I shouted.
Stella came and spoke directly to my ear. ‘As a conservator I guarded key Cloaken artefacts. I hid items belonging to the Royal Family including the late King.’
Our train screeched to a halt next to us, the doors puffing open with a ringing sound. ‘Take Taine with you. Tell no-one what you find.’
‘What should I do with it?’ I struggled to make myself heard above the clacking of a trolley bag rolling past me.
‘Annie said, Cloaken and Venator factions seek it. If you empty it, hide it. Wait for a sign to share it.’
Stella kissed us goodbye and hustled us aboard. Taine and I took our seats at a table. Déjà vu. The carriage was cooler than last time, but the seats were just as hard.
‘Do you reckon we’ll get through Customs okay?’ I got my iPod and earphones out of my bag.
‘Let’s hope Pierce moved onto new suspects o
r things could get tricky.’
Chapter 14: Summer’s End
Taine was asleep wearing earphones. Under my focused gaze, he blinked himself awake, training taking over.
‘What happens next?'
'Venator attack or anti-climax. Imal is home for a week which should make life interesting. India got back just before him.'
‘Fab, that’ll make a change.’ I would be lonely if my family were away as much as his.
Taine stretched like a cat and caught himself mid yawn. ‘I need a holiday to recover.’
‘You were lucky. I had to learn French too.'
The train began to brake and shuddered to a stop.
Taine grabbed his bags as the tannoy announced our arrival at Euston.
I scanned the faces of the crowd. No sign of my parents. Hurt wormed its way in. I chewed my cheek. What had I expected? This is how they acted since their London jobs. It rankled, after all I had been through. Then I remembered, they didn’t even know. Taine saw me home. When he left, I felt empty, alone, lonely. I missed Stella and even Pierre. I went upstairs and put my things away before my parents returned home.
So many secrets and lies. At least this way my parents were unlikely to notice that virtually all my belongings had been replaced. Prevented awkward questions. I lay back on my bed with its heirloom quilt and stared up at the white ceiling. It felt weird to hide everything about the Cloaken and Venator from them but what choice did I have?
I didn’t want to endanger them. Given they couldn’t see the Étoile they might not remember anyway. Maisie and Katherine couldn’t. They’d become ill when I’d tried to take them near one of the shimmering doorways in the park. Maybe my parents would be the same. On that uncomfortable thought I fell asleep, waking to the sound of the key turning in the front door.
My parents were home. I got up and brushed the hair back from my face and tied it up. I made my way downstairs.
‘Great tan,' said Mum, wrapping me in a fierce hug that threatened to bruise my ribs. ‘You look taller.’
Dad gave me a bear hug too. 'Speak French then.' He released me and led the way to the lounge.
Mum switched on a series of yellow lamps lighting the room with a soft glow. The oversized, round clock above the mantle showed it was 7pm. We sat together on the blue corner sofa. I spoke in French of the sights we had visited while omitting mention of any of our crazier activities.
