by Vic James
It was a moment before Abi spotted the white shape that lifted up from Lindum’s roof, spread immense wings, and swooped towards where the four of them stood. The silhouette was recognizable as it flew – a barn owl, with thick trousered legs. Midsummer’s wrist dipped beneath its weight as the bird settled there.
Which was when Abi saw that it wasn’t white because it was a barn owl. It was white because it was made of marble.
‘Alba was the first,’ said Midsummer, petting the owl’s head. ‘I’d only been here a few months when she came to me. Owls are the patron bird of the Roman goddess Minerva, to whom the hot springs here were dedicated. The Minerva statue was smashed to bits long ago, but Alba survived.’ She raked her fingers through the bird’s downy marble breast.
‘And as you can see, lots of other statues also made it. I spent the rest of my childhood trying to coax them all to life, and one by one, they woke for me.’ Midsummer clicked the fingers of her free hand. ‘So yeah, Gavar Jardine can explode things, and Meilyr could heal any injury short of death, and DiDi was one of the most charmingly deceptive people I’ve ever met – no wonder even her sister never knew about her double life. But me? I get to animate weird old statues.’
She laughed again, and her right hand came down to pat the creature that had padded across the lawns at her summons. It was a massive grey marble wolf. Abi had never seen a real wolf before, but this was surely larger than life-size. Its ears were raised and alert, and a tongue lolled from a sharp-toothed jaw. The row of teats sagging from its belly promised a mother’s ferocious protectiveness.
‘I call her Leto,’ said Midsummer. ‘Named for the mother of Apollo, though she’s obviously the she-wolf that suckled Romulus and Remus.’
It was extraordinary, Abi thought. Why couldn’t all Equals be like this, using their gifts to arouse wonder and admiration? Why use their ability for sordid power games, when they could use it for miracles?
‘The lions must have been easy,’ Abi breathed, daring to reach out to stroke the owl. Its wings were snow-white and snow-cold.
‘At first, I could only work with creatures roughly my size or smaller,’ said Midsummer. ‘Leto here, or a satyr, or a faun. No problem. Something like Tom, Dick and Harry over there? Forget it.’
The Equal pointed to a monstrous creature the size of a rhinoceros, with the body of a lion and three ferocious eagle heads, each looking in a different direction. A gryphon. The heads had curved beaks, and the lifted left foreleg bore wicked claws. The thought of it coming to life made Abi shiver.
‘Then I got better. Bigger creatures, and more than one at a time. Now, I can manage seven or eight, depending on their size.’ Midsummer whistled sharply, and as Abi watched, mesmerized, all three heads of the gryphon snapped around. The creature lowered its leg, and stalked towards them with a predator’s grace. At Abi’s side, she heard Renie squeak with excitement. Or possibly terror.
When the gryphon reached them, Layla and Renie barely came up to the beast’s shoulder. Leto the wolf huffed and padded away as Midsummer reached up to scratch behind the ears of each head. ‘They love the attention,’ she said. ‘But be careful, if you spend too long on one of them, the others will nip.’
Abi warily watched the other two heads as she reached up to scratch between the eyes of Tom – or was it Dick, or Harry? The creature’s eyelids lifted upwards in sleepy pleasure.
As she gazed around at Lindum’s courtyard and grounds, many more sculptures caught Abi’s eye. A gargantuan female torso with a ravishingly beautiful face and a lower body comprised of two thick, reptilian tails. The muscly figure of a man, more than ten feet tall, clad in a lion skin and resting on a club. A sphinx, with a lion’s supple body, arcing wings, and a woman’s wise visage. There were dozens of them. A veritable army.
Which was when Abi realized exactly how Midsummer Zelston planned to break eighty prisoners out of Fullthorpe supermax jail.
Others of Midsummer’s team arrived through the morning, a few vehicles at a time to avoid any impression of a convoy. The Equal and her mother took it in turns to wait at the end of the track and bring them through the gate, while Abi stayed at the great house, to help Layla greet and settle in the new arrivals.
There would be some thirty people coming in all, with around twenty taking part in the assault on Fullthorpe the next day. The estate’s burly gardeners were expanding their job description by carrying in bags and gear. (Lindum did have people doing days, Layla had explained, but only the minimum required to keep the estate maintained, and Midsummer paid a wage-equivalent into a savings account for each of them.)
‘What’s that?’ Layla looked up fearfully as a loud sound thudded overhead, growing louder.
‘Helicopter?’ Abi said.
She remembered the last time she’d been in one, with Dina at the controls, her beautiful face a rigid mask as she flew them away from Eilean Dòchais, carrying with them the body of the man she’d loved, who’d been shot dead in Crovan’s hallway. This couldn’t be Dina.
Was it Security, knowing they wouldn’t get past Lindum’s boundary, coming by air instead? Abi ran outside, Layla at her heels, and they looked up.
When she saw the yellow-and-black colours of the chopper, she understood.
‘Do you see where it says “Air and Sea Rescue”?’ she yelled over the din. ‘It’s come from Highwithel.’
The craft settled and the rotors stopped. The pilot that hopped out of the cockpit wasn’t much older than Abi, and her tanned and wind-creased skin and auburn plait marked her as a Tresco, one of Meilyr’s sisters. The girl opened the door of her chopper, and Abi helped the passengers clamber out.
‘Abigail, hen, how did you get here?’ the first one asked.
Abi was hugged to an ample matronly bosom, then squished from behind by an equally suffocating pressure.
‘Hilda, Tilda,’ she said, when the grey-haired twins parted and she came up for air. ‘It’s so good to see you.’
Keeping a safe distance from the hugging, Asif gave a nervy little wave.
‘Reunited,’ crowed Renie, running up to join them. ‘Or we will be, once we get Oz and Jess. And then Luke.’
Abi’s optimism had been buoyant since seeing Midsummer’s marble army, and it soared with the arrival of the techie trio. The twins, with evident pleasure, marshalled a couple of Lindum’s hunkiest gardeners to unload crates of kit from the chopper, and soon they’d taken over a room as a surveillance hub.
In London, Midsummer had shown the team aerial photographs of Fullthorpe, thanks to her unrestricted access to the internet. These revealed a square compound, subdivided like a Japanese lunchbox into smaller walled sections: a grass exercise field, workshops and outbuildings, a large warehouse or factory and, behind double walls, four residential blocks. But now a more detailed picture emerged.
‘I used to tell Jackson that the success of any operation was one per cent inspiration, nine per cent perspiration and ninety per cent information,’ joked Tilda, as the trio fired up their kit. ‘He said that was about right, though the percentage for information should be higher.’
As soon as their equipment was up and running, Asif began a deep dive to locate the Fullthorpe CCTV network. Tilda hunted for the data servers that held detailed maps and information on staff routines and prisoner holding locations. Hilda worked on satellite enhancement, to generate images clear enough that they could observe in real-time the jail’s routine of meals, work, exercise and patrols. Abi’s heart was in her throat – might she glimpse her mum and dad on one of those feeds?
It was complex work, yet just a few hours later, Asif punched the air with a cry of triumph.
‘They’re still using the same set-up as for Riverhead and Millmoor,’ he said, shaking his head. ‘It’s on a different location within the servers, because this is a jail rather than a slavetown security facility, but it’s all going to be here somewhere. They haven’t even tightened their access protocols much since I last went looking. An ex
tra layer of encryption, and the authorization codes will be different, but no surprises.’
‘How stupid are they?’ Renie scoffed.
‘It’s less stupidity than arrogance,’ said Midsummer, peering over Asif’s shoulder. ‘The people who run this country feel secure in the strength of their Skill. To them, technology is flimsy by comparison, like putting up a wooden fence behind a stone wall.’
‘They don’t worry about how to prevent people discovering stuff,’ said Abi. ‘They rely on fear to keep people from looking for it in the first place.’
Fear was the thing the Equals used best of all, she’d come to realize, in all the hours she’d lain sleepless since escaping the Blood Fair. More than their Skill, political power or wealth. Fear of a harsh assignment if you questioned the slavedays. Fear of loved ones getting even worse treatment if you challenged their conditions. Fear of Security. Of more years on your days. Of the Blood Fair.
Fear was the superpower they all possessed. And unlike Midsummer’s monsters, there was no limit to the number of people they could control with it.
A servant bent to whisper in Midsummer’s ear, and one of the Equal’s pierced brows arched upwards. She caught Abi’s eye and motioned towards the doorway.
‘Uh-oh,’ Layla whispered. ‘You’re being summoned.’
‘It’s Gavar,’ Midsummer hissed, as the pair of them walked down one of Lindum’s echoing, vaulted corridors. ‘I wasn’t sure if he was going to show up – which is why I made sure he knows no specifics of what we’re planning at Fullthorpe. I’ve been wondering ever since he got in touch whether he really came to us of his own accord, or if it was some kind of deception.’
Midsummer’s ambivalence was perfectly logical. But it was misplaced, Abi was certain.
‘I get it,’ she told the Equal. ‘I really do. I lived at Kyneston for months, and I thought he was the worst of the lot: cruel and childish. But I was wrong. My little sister trusted him from the start. He got Luke out of Millmoor for her. He stopped the Blood Fair, got me away from Gorregan, wanted to send me over the water to Dubhlinn. Even now, I’m not sure if he’s a “good” person, but I do know that he loves his daughter and he hates his father. And both those things put him with us, not them.’
‘The pair of you going in for Renie? That was fantastic,’ Midsummer agreed. ‘But Jon called me earlier and said that Gavar was at Westminster this morning, meeting his father and Bouda. What if him joining us is something they’ve cooked up together? So far, Gavar only knows about the handful of people he met, and they’re all “persons of interest” to Security anyway. But I’m exposing a lot more people if I bring him in closer.’
What should she say? Abi was convinced that Gavar’s heart was in the right place. But did she want to believe that, because her chances of freeing her parents were better with two Equals on their side, rather than just one? Midsummer’s judgement was hers to make.
‘Jon didn’t say how long Gavar was with them, or what it was about?’
‘I asked, but it wasn’t on Bouda’s official schedule. Seems Jenner came and fetched her.’
The mere mention of his name, out of nowhere, slipped a needle between Abi’s ribs and deep into her unprepared heart. So Jenner had moved from the fringes of his family to its centre? Doubtless he felt her betrayal had been worth it.
‘I’m sorry,’ Midsummer said, rubbing Abi’s shoulder comfortingly. ‘I know what he meant to you. But it shows how treacherous that family is.’
Abi winced. ‘It says a lot about Jenner, and nothing about Gavar. Do you know what Layla told me earlier? She said that she’s uncertain and afraid, too, but wonders if Gavar might be the one to tip the balance.
‘Right now, Midsummer, you’re the only Equal on the front line of our side in this. I know your mother’s part of it behind the scenes, and Armeria Tresco. And I know you feel as strongly as I do that a rising of the people has to come from the people. But I’ve seen how your leadership gives everyone hope. Ninety per cent of that is you being awesome, but some of it is because you’ve got Skill. To have someone else like that? It might make all the difference.’
‘Hmm . . .’
Midsummer was deep in thought. Please let her agree and not turn Gavar away, Abi prayed, as they stepped out of Lindum’s front door and walked to the formal estate entrance. It was another wrought gate, like Kyneston’s – and on the other side was a parked Harley-Davidson and one huffy owner.
‘Gavar. What do you want?’
‘I’m sorry?’
Gavar didn’t sound sorry. He sounded pissed off at such a greeting. Abi didn’t blame him.
‘Or another question: what were you doing with your father this morning?’
‘Getting a roasting for not only letting this one slip between my fingers’ – he pointed at Abi – ‘but allowing the kid to escape, too. You can imagine it’s not made me popular.’
‘Abigail tells me you wanted her to go to Dubhlinn. Is that true?’
‘No, Midsummer, I wanted to lure her to a gingerbread house and eat her. What is this? Didn’t I prove myself with rescuing the girl? Either you trust me, or you don’t.’
‘Let me think about that. Maybe I don’t trust you because you’re a Daddy’s boy, and your daddy is the worst human being alive. Maybe I don’t trust you because you shot dead the slavegirl you abused, when she tried to flee with the child you knocked her up with. Would I be wrong?’
Abi was grateful, at that moment, that a gate stood between them – though Gavar could have blasted it off its hinges if he wished, and he looked like he wanted to.
He didn’t. He gripped the ironwork and stared at Midsummer.
‘Look, both those things are true – but they’re not the only truth.’
‘So, I’m right . . . but I’m still wrong?’
‘You know what he means.’ Abi’s heart was hammering at this unexpected confrontation. Was Midsummer really going to throw away all the possibilities that Gavar represented? She tried not to see her chance of freeing her parents slipping away, too. ‘You can do awful things and still be capable of good ones. He helped me and my siblings. He stopped the Blood Fair.’
‘He’s the Heir of Kyneston. On a fast track to the chancellorship. Why would anyone jeopardize a future like that?’
‘Maybe,’ Gavar snarled, looking like a blood vessel was going to burst in his temple, ‘someone who was never asked if he wanted it.’
Midsummer took a step back. Then she put her hand to the gates of Lindum – and pulled them open.
‘I wasn’t sure if I could trust you, Gavar. But I figured I could trust your temper to tell me the truth. Come on in. We’ve got a jailbreak to plan.’
Gavar rolled his eyes as he wheeled his bike forward.
This pair were the most unlikely of allies, Abi thought, as she watched them walk to the imposing red-brick mansion. But if this alliance could hold, they might just win.
11
Luke
As the chopper lifted and spun, Luke fought down panic. The last time he’d been in a helicopter was when Crovan had taken him to Eilean Dòchais. Luke had been collared at Kyneston’s gate, then strapped into his seat for the flight to an unknown fate in Scotland. His hand slipped down to the buckle of the belt restraining him now, and he clicked it in and out a few times, just to reassure himself that he was free.
Headphones over his ears muffled the noise of the rotor blades – then emitted a whine of feedback.
‘I’ve changed my mind,’ came Silyen’s voice, somehow managing a bored, aristocratic drawl despite the static. ‘Amsterdam is so dull. Let’s go to Scotland instead. The liquor is better.’
‘My lord?’ Luke could hear the pilot’s uncertainty. Poor sod. At the private airfield, Silyen had asked for someone discreet. The man presumably thought he was taking a spoiled young aristo and his friends on a debauched day trip, where they’d smoke pot and visit the red-light district away from the disapproving eyes of Equal society.
‘Scotland,’ said Silyen airily. ‘Head for the Isle of Skye. I’ll give you more precise directions when we get closer.’
‘My lord, we’ve not cleared the flight path. The weather conditions could—’
‘Scotland.’ Silyen’s voice this time brooked no argument. ‘And no need to radio back to base. We’ll be fine. My father is the Chancellor, you know.’
At Luke’s side, the Equal pulled off his headphones and fell back against his seat with a groan.
‘Are there any of those paper bags?’ he asked Luke. His pale skin was already sheened with perspiration. ‘You might want to have one ready, just in case. I find cars bad enough, but these things are the worst. You wouldn’t want to turn up to see Coira covered in my puke.’
Luke really wouldn’t. He rummaged around the cabin for the sick bags, handed two to Silyen and kept two for himself. Seated on his other side, Dog was looking avidly out of the window. Luke proffered a bag.
‘No thanks,’ the man rasped. ‘I like – choppers. Was airborne for my – tours of duty – in Mesopotamia.’
What a jolly trio they were: Silyen, tech-sick; Luke, having flashbacks; and Dog fondly dreaming of the days he rode helicopters into the killing fields of desert combat.
Luke hoped to goodness that Crovan was still in London. What had happened at the castle in the days since he left? Coira had wanted to get others away from the island, too – the ‘servants’ she sheltered belowstairs. Had she managed it, or had Crovan’s steward Devin, and the ‘guests’ who lived upstairs, prevented her? Maybe she had been able to connect with her Skill.
Whether she had or hadn’t, would Coira want to come with them now? Luke couldn’t assume that she would. She had no memory of any life outside the castle. Had never left the island it stood on. You sometimes heard in the news about girls abducted and locked away for years. Of the children born to them who’d never known life beyond a basement, until one day their mothers escaped into the sunlight, yelling for help.
