Angel grabbed Summer’s wrist to find out the time. She never bothered with her own watch. ‘Geez, I’m late for Yves.’ She cackled at her own half-rhyme. ‘Later.’
I caught her by the back of her summer dress. ‘Face pack.’
‘I missed a bit?’ Angel made an unsuccessful attempt to see her own nose.
‘Lots of bits. You look as though you’ve caught some dreaded lurgy.’
‘Overeager-itis, maybe?’ quipped Summer.
Angel hurried back inside to wash, not having time to think up a clever response and still get to her lesson.
‘Wish me luck,’ Summer said, heading to the cabin Victor was sharing with Paul. I fell into step.
‘You’ll be fine.’ I knew Victor would look after Summer even if he scared the bejeezus out of her.
‘What about you, Misty?’
‘I’ve got my session with Zed.’
‘The intimidating but hot?’
‘That’s like a title?’
Summer laughed. ‘I think it is now.’
Zed the Intimidating but Hot was at the pool table in the games room. He was passing the time waiting for me by playing a game with Sky. I paused in the door to watch them together. Sky was cheating outrageously, bending the balls with her telekinetic powers when they went off track. He was blocking her from doing the same to his shots so he was still winning.
‘You just sunk the white in the pocket after that yellow,’ he told her.
‘Did not.’ Sky made the ball jump out again.
He backed her up against the table, his six-feet-plus frame dwarfing her slight stature. They were a study in contrast: Sky was all wavy blonde hair and forget-me-not blue eyes, whereas Zed was dark and dangerous with a moody blue-green gaze. Seeing them together reminded me that the not-so-obvious couple could make a really great match. Sometimes a soulfinder pair only makes sense after you see the two people come together. Maybe I had a chance.
‘Cheating like that incurs a penalty,’ he said in a deep, spine-tingling voice.
‘A severe penalty?’ Sky asked hopefully.
‘Very.’ He took the pool cue from her hand and placed it on the table. ‘Pay up, Miss Bright.’
She gave an unconvincing put-upon sigh. ‘If I must, Mr Benedict.’
Sky lifted her face and he bent down for a kiss. Wow. I should so not be here. They were making out like they’d only just found each other, not the behaviour expected of a couple who had been dating for nearly two years. I turned to leave them their privacy but my flip-flop squeaked on the floorboard. Awkward.
Zed looked round. He was not pleased.
‘Sorry. I’ll just … um … go.’ I waved vaguely in the direction of anywhere-but-here.
Sky batted him in the chest, her cheeks understandably pink. ‘Stop that, Zed. Hi, Misty. Zed was expecting you. We got a little sidetracked.’ She slid from the side of the pool table where he had lifted her during the kiss. ‘How are you?’
‘I’m … ’ fine would just not come out, ‘really embarrassed right now.’
‘We’ll catch up later, OK?’ She gave Zed another ‘behave’ look then left us alone.
‘Sorry.’ I edged inside the room. ‘Timing was never my strong point.’
Zed held out the cue Sky had left behind. ‘You play?’
‘Yes, but aren’t we having a lesson? I should tell you right up front, I really need some help. I’m rubbish at control.’
‘So I’ve heard. Uri mentioned something about a hospital.’ Seeing I wasn’t making any progress into the room, he took my hand and led me to the table. ‘Here.’
I took the cue. You don’t refuse Zed.
He set up the rack of balls. ‘You know the rules?’
‘I think so.’
‘OK. You break.’
Along with table tennis, pool was another of my accomplishments. You can see where I spent the time I should have been studying. I made a good start, one red potted, and the balls in a nice range of positions.
‘So, your gift is for truth?’
‘Yes.’ I potted a second red and lined up for another.
Zed leaned against the wall, his cue resting in front of him as he watched the game. ‘All kinds?’
A third red disappeared. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Do you sense if it is the truth no matter what the person telling you thinks?’
‘I’m not sure.’
‘OK, for example, say you’ve got someone who really believes in way-out conspiracy theories; if you listen to them, do you hear it as a lie or as a truth as far as they are concerned?’
‘Oh, I hadn’t thought about that.’ Distracted, I just missed my fourth red.
‘Unlucky.’ Zed moved in and started potting yellows like he had a plane to catch—thump, thump, thump in the pockets. Normally that would annoy me but just then I was caught up in reviewing my experience.
‘I think it must be to do with what the person believes. I’m thinking about beliefs rather than facts now. I mean, I can say “I believe in God” knowing I’m not a hundred per cent sure, just more a believer than not. If my gift gave me the power to know if it were true then I’d be, well, doing something centuries of theologians have not been able to settle.’
Zed missed a tricky yellow and stood back to let me take over. ‘OK, let’s assume then that we are working with a gift that functions by tuning you in to the intentions of the other person.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I sank a red and was back in the game. ‘Victor thinks that for me I don’t have to be totally conscious of it to still work. I couldn’t build a defensive wall as it read as fake to my brain. I can’t even tell a truth knowing I mean the opposite—I struggle with irony. It registers as a lie.’
‘Interesting. I’d like to get Phoenix to watch you later, see what your mind is doing. It seems to be undermining you.’ Phoenix, his brother Yves’ soulfinder, has the power of seeing our mental landscapes; it is the first step in her ability to make time seem to stop. ‘My guess is that you’re taking in a huge spectrum of information, both conscious and instinctive. It’s why it’s so hard for you to control it. You’re only aware of seeing a small part of the spread, like visible light in the wave spectrum, which is only a tiny part of the whole.’
‘I’m glad you’ve got an excuse for me.’ I was down to my last two reds.
He approached the table. ‘You think you’re going to win this frame?’
‘Why, yes!’ I was too far ahead to lose now.
As my next red zipped to the corner pocket, Zed used his power to bend it away. Taking over he pocketed all the remaining yellows and the black.
‘And now?’
‘Still yes: it’s a moral victory.’ I thumped my cue down on the table.
He laughed, seeing how I was really riled with him. ‘That establishes the facts then. You don’t give objective truth, as I won by cheating, just what is felt to be true, even for yourself.’
My anger fizzled out. ‘You were testing me?’
‘Yep.’ He called all the balls back into position. ‘Now, Misty, let’s start working on those strands of truth you feel. Think of each pool ball as something you need to control—yellow are the conscious truths, red the flying-under-the-radar truths … ’
My brain felt like ice cream left out in the sun by the time I’d finished with Zed. I walked zombie-fashion back to our cabin, too tired to take much notice of the lovely sunshine through mint-green birch leaves and the swish-hush of the waves breaking on the beach. Sky and Phoenix were sitting on deck chairs with Angel and Summer. They had a cold drink just poured for me. Zed must have sent word ahead.
‘How was it?’ asked Sky.
‘Really good.’ I dropped my notebook beside her. ‘I don’t think I made great strides in control but I learned a lot about why I suck at it.’
‘Zed said you did well—and that you are miles better at pool than me.’
‘He might’ve mentioned something about you not being that good at it,’ I admi
tted.
‘No, no, it’s much more than that: I’m incredibly gifted at pool … ’
Strange: her comment wasn’t registering as a lie.
‘I raise making a hash of it to an art form. Then I have to cheat and that winds him up to … well, you saw the consequences.’
Hadn’t I just.
‘It’s kind of you guys to give up the time,’ I said, dodging commenting on what I walked in on to spare our blushes.
‘It’s our pleasure—really it is. Fortunately, we had a gap. I start at the Juilliard on the music programme this autumn; Zed’s going to Columbia to study biochem, though, between you and me, he’s really more interested in getting a band together. We had a few weeks free before beginning life in New York.’
‘So you’ll be in the same city as Crystal and Xav—awesome!’
‘I wanted them in California with us but we lost,’ said Phoenix, a pixyish brunette with multiple ear piercings.
‘I’m afraid the time zone argument won. My parents are back here now so I wanted to be able to get to the UK.’ Sky smiled apologetically at Phee.
‘And the Juilliard is like only one of the best music colleges. Congratulations for getting in! So how was Victor?’ I asked Summer.
She smiled mysteriously. ‘Intriguing.’
‘Oooh, do tell!’ begged Angel.
Summer shrugged. ‘I’m still thinking about it. My lips are … ’ She drew a finger across her mouth.
‘And Yves?’ I asked Angel before she had another curiosity meltdown.
Angel put her hands over Phee’s ears. ‘So yummy. He has this cute little serious frown when he tries to make me pay attention.’
Phee pushed her palms away, eyes narrowing in mock-anger. ‘Do I have to defend my man here?’ And she would if called on—Phee had grown up streetwise.
‘Totally,’ agreed Angel. ‘I’m so jealous that I’m in danger of turning into a Yves groupie. You’d better slap me sensible.’ She offered a cheek that Phee obligingly patted. ‘Thanks, that’s better. Yves was great. I learned more in an hour with him than I have for a year trying things out on my own.’
‘That’s the idea,’ said Sky.
‘So what are you guys going to teach us?’ I asked.
Phee and Sky exchanged a look.
‘What to do when the worst happens,’ said Phee. ‘The things no one had a chance to tell Mia.’
I sat on the cabin steps and looped my arms round my knees. Paul had gone to Mia’s funeral that morning and returned looking devastated. I cleared the lump in my throat. ‘And … and what’s that?’
She counted them off on her fingers. ‘Use every weapon you have—even things you’ve never thought were weapons. Resist, but don’t give them a reason to bump you off immediately. Never give up hope.’
‘It also helps if you have a soulfinder backing you up,’ added Sky. ‘Zed made all the difference to me.’
‘As Yves did for me.’
‘Oh, don’t you hate these “I’ve-found-my-guy” savants,’ teased Angel, lightening the mood. ‘You are reading way high on my Smugometer.’
We all smiled.
‘Sorry, we’ll dial it down for the rest of the week,’ promised Phee.
‘If I had a Benedict, I wouldn’t,’ I told her. ‘If you’ve got it, flaunt it. Angel will survive the ordeal.’
‘Only just,’ she said darkly, prompting our laughter.
I left camp at the end of August with a suntan and plenty of homework on how to build up my controls. In the excitement of body boarding and learning to windsurf in the afternoons, I tried to forget that the morning training sessions were made necessary by a serial killer preying on savants of our age—one who might strike again at any moment. Returning to our cabin and seeing the empty fourth bed provided a constant reminder of what really lay outside the cocoon of the camp. We left the bed clear of belongings and put a spray of wild flowers in a vase on the bedside, our tribute to Mia, who would have been a friend by the end of the week. We all hugged just that little bit tighter when we went our separate ways, urging each other to be careful.
Back for a brief few days at Devon Central—also known as my chaotic family home—I caught up with my sisters and brothers. I was touched to find that Gale, in particular, had missed me while I had been away from the family for most of the last year and much of the summer. I realized that she had become quite grown up now she was about to start her second year at secondary school and become someone with interesting views of her own. We promised to do a better job of keeping in contact. Junior school terrors Felicity and Peace were proving to be the opposite of their names, plotting mischief every moment our parents’ backs were turned. Their latest triumph had been giving Tempest a Mohawk with his full delighted consent but, as he was only three, Mum had not been impressed. Sonny, five, was now noisily demanding one to match.
Leaving this dispute behind for the day, Mum and Dad drove me back to school. It was lovely to have them to myself for a few hours. Grandma was babysitting so if the little ones got too much of a handful, Tempest and Sunny would spend the day sleeping. The threat was usually enough to make them behave.
The atmosphere in the car was not as relaxed as it had been on other journeys. Fear had reached everyone in the savant community. As far as we knew, there had been no more abductions, but there was a pattern, according to Uriel: several victims in quick succession, then nothing. Waiting for a second strike in the UK was like waiting for a volcano to blow: you knew it was going to happen but no one could say when. Mum gave me a serious ‘no talking to strangers’ lecture in the car, repeating it as we unpacked my stuff. Dad stood by my little window in my study bedroom, toying with the bamboo-print curtains, bemused by the savant business but putting up with it as usual. When she had finished, I agreed with everything she said, promised to be on my guard, then walked into Dad’s hug.
‘Love you.’ I buried my head against his sweater.
‘Love you too.’ He brushed his thumbs over my brows. His own were a rusty brown; Mum was the one who had given me my fair colouring. If my parents were shoes, he would be the comfy slipper, Mum the Italian sandal. ‘I worry about you, all the way over here and this killer hunting young savants. Do what Mum says, OK?’ His eyes lit up at a new thought. ‘Or you could just keep away from other savants for a few years. Give the authorities time to catch him.’
‘Keep away like you did with Mum, you mean?’
He cleared his throat, gaze going to my mother. ‘Ah yes. I see what you’re getting at. Some savants are irresistible.’
With a sweet smile, Mum joined in the hug.
‘We’d best get back, Topaz, before the girls give your mother a Mohawk too,’ said Dad, giving us both a final squeeze.
My mum laughed. ‘Oh you!’
He jingled the car keys. ‘She just might let them; you know how devoted she is to her grandchildren. Aren’t I right, Misty?’
I grinned. ‘You absolutely are.’
Mum’s smile faded, hearing the truth from me. ‘Quickly, Mark.’
My dad winked at me. ‘Let’s hope we don’t run into traffic.’
School trundled back into its normal routines. I had chosen my AS levels after doing better than expected in my GCSE exams. The Fens careers adviser was big on preparing us all for the future and was busy dispatching us to visit most of the major universities before the summer. When I had had my interview with him last June, even he had been stumped what career to suggest. His best line had been, ‘No, not diplomacy; not for you.’
Thanks, Mr Graves; I’d worked that out for myself.
After taking Summer and Angel’s advice, I’d gone for geography, maths, chemistry and biology as there was less scope for me to make a spectacle of myself in those subjects than, say, an arts one. I wouldn’t call myself a gifted scientist but it was better than writing essays where I had to express myself truthfully about books or plays that I really disliked or didn’t get. For some reason that annoyed the examiners.
An interruption to business-as-usual came as November arrived. My school, co-hosting the final with the Cambridge University Debating Society, prepared to welcome the international teams. The plan was to hold a welcome reception for students and their teachers on Friday night in the Union building, which was like a mini-parliament—the perfect venue for trainee politicians, many of whom dreamed of making it into the real thing in their home countries. The debates would follow during the week at different locations around the city, with the final on the last Saturday. It turned out to be quite a big deal with the international education press interested in the outcome. I was surprised how many countries had sent finalists, including those where English was not the first language.
My school friends Hafsa, Tony, and Annalise had signed up to help at the reception; with a little arm twisting, they got me to join them. I was torn. I wanted to see Alex and his friends again despite the mixed feelings I had towards him, but I also didn’t want to seem too eager. If he turned out to be the soulfinder of someone I knew—Summer sprang immediately to mind—I’d look pathetic. Yet there was still the slight chance he and I …
Dream on, Misty.
I put my name down, deciding I was used to pathetic. I was going to see the South Africans one way or another so at the very least I could arrange for Alex to meet Summer at the reception. That would settle the question and I could stop torturing myself with the thought that maybe they were destined for each other.
On Friday afternoon, Summer and Angel arrived on the train from London, a burst of familiar energy and anticipation like a shot of espresso on a dull morning. I corralled them in my room after herding Angel away from the stalls in the marketplace in the city centre. She has an irresistible attraction to anyone selling tie dye, beads and dingle-dangle sun-catchers. As one of the waitresses, I had been instructed to wear a black shirt and skirt to the reception. As I’d put their names down as guests, Summer and Angel got to dress up, using my bedroom to get ready.
‘How’s it been?’ asked Summer, flicking the mascara wand over her lashes.
Misty Falls Page 10
