Spark

by Rachael Craw

  “Where do you want me?” Miriam finally says.

  I cross to check the butler’s pantry, to keep from facing her. The cellar door is locked. “They’re in?”

  She nods.

  I swallow my last bite and turn to the sink, still not looking directly at her. “Excuse me.”

  Miriam moves aside.

  I open the faucet, bend and drink. When I straighten up, Miriam offers me a towel, but I wipe my chin on the back of my hand instead. Stupid and petty. I can feel her waiting for me to say something, but what does she expect, It’s okay, Mom?

  “Leonard’s on the gate. I’ve got him on audio, so maybe you want to set your watch, so we’re all on the same page. I’m going to lock down the house. You could stay here till I get back. Whatever.”

  “Okay.” She takes her gun in hand and checks the cartridge.

  I turn to the back hall, willing myself not to bolt, willing her not to speak and just let me go.

  “Evie.”

  I stop but can’t face her.

  “Forgive me.”

  “For what? For having me?” I push through the door.

  STORM

  I focus on the simple demands of moving my body and completing small tasks, locking doors and windows downstairs. It feels good to do something. In Leonard’s study, I check the security feed. Leonard is at the gate. The other squares of the grid show the same shrubs and trees and rain. My brain tries to morph the shadows into an assailant.

  No, there will be no assailant. Jamie will see to it. Jamie, who I love. There, I admit it. Jamie will kill my brother. My brother. I struggle to imagine a life where that exists. A pair. Twins. Evie and Aiden.

  I call his face to memory, our last meeting at the governor’s office, the way he moved, the way he spoke. The way I responded to his proximity at school and how I always second-guessed myself. Did he feel my presence the way I felt his, without comprehending what it meant?

  Is he terrified? Does he sleep? Does he run? Does he know what’s happening to his body?

  With Aiden haunting me, I make a quick pass along the second floor to Kitty’s room. I try not to picture her in the cellar, it makes me cold. Jamie’s doing the right thing. I have to tell myself over and over.

  A loud crackle from my watch nearly has me on the ceiling. I tap the screen, my hands shake. “Yeah?”

  Nothing but a faint hiss.

  “Mr Gallagher?”

  Nothing.

  “Mr Gallagher?”

  I cross to the window and pull back the curtain. It’s fully dark now. I can see the gate in the distance but with the rain I can’t judge what’s out there.

  I jog back down to Leonard’s study, jelly legs and jangling nerves. I flick through the security feed but can’t see him. Anxiety fizzes beneath the surface of my skin. I tap my watch, lifting my wrist close to my mouth. “Are you there, Mr Gallagher?”

  Nothing.

  I stare blankly at the screen in momentary paralysis then lurch to my feet, bruising my thigh on the corner of the desk as I hurry from the study out into the foyer. A clap of sound from my watch stops my heart and I skid to a standstill. An echo comes from outside, the report of a gunshot.

  “No!” Fire erupts in my spine, a sickening note pierces my eardrums and glass explodes above my head. Darkness. Crystal from the chandelier rains down.

  Miriam bursts from the kitchen. “Leonard!”

  “Stay here!” I almost wrench the front door from its hinges. My feet don’t touch the porch. I land on gravel. Shadows storm my mind.

  Maybe it’s a mistake.

  Maybe Leonard got spooked.

  Maybe his watch shorted.

  Torrential rain slicks my hair, my clothes, driving splinters from the chandelier beneath my collar as I tear down the long drive, cursing the sky. The storm’s roar blurs with the static shrilling in my head, making me feel blind and afraid.

  He isn’t at the gate.

  I cut along the eastern boundary, slipping in the wet when I see him, his legs spread-eagled in mud and grass, his body obscured by shrubs. I hammer my watch, bringing it to my mouth as I run, screaming incoherently, not hearing Miriam’s crackling response. I punch the screen to send out the alert and land on my knees, panting, hysterical, smelling blood.

  He lies face-down, his glasses in pieces. He twitches and gurgles when I touch his shoulder. “Mr Gallagher, it’s me.” I drip water and crystal as I turn him, like my arm isn’t agonised and he’s not a full-grown man twice my weight, lowering his head on the grass. He bleeds from the neck where his shoulder slopes up, an oozing gash that bubbles and shines, wet with the ebb of life.

  Miriam, don’t let Aiden in the house.

  “You’re okay. It’s okay.” I rip the fabric of Leonard’s torn pant leg into two long strips, moving quickly, my hands trembling.

  Oh God.

  I wad the first strip, pressing it against the flooding wound. The other I feed under his neck to tie the compress. My watch chimes, Jamie acknowledging the alert. “He’s coming, Mr Gallagher. Jamie’s coming.” I fumble for my phone and dial, fingers wet with blood and water. I rest my hand on Leonard’s chest as he blinks at the rain. I give the emergency services operator clipped mechanical details and don’t wait for her questions. I leave the phone on by Leonard’s head. “You’re going to be okay.”

  Leonard forces air through his lips, a bubbling rasp, “Go.”

  I stagger to my feet, eyes on the house, my legs numb beneath me as I sprint up the soaking lawn. I force the image of Leonard to the back of my mind; I can’t let it undo me. The light is still on in the kitchen, but I can’t see Miriam. I try to feel the tether in the chaos – a pulse, distorted, faint, but there.

  She’s alive.

  I speed up the side of the house, bee-lining for the kitchen when a foreign signal cuts through the static – a shadow so black in my mind it almost blinds me. My spine shoots with fire and instinct takes over, quickening the chemical taste on my tongue. My hands know what to do. I slip the gun from my pocket and release the safety.

  I crash into the kitchen, brightness stabbing my eyes, but he’s already down there. I can sense it and rage sweeps through me, hot, black, disorientating. Where the hell is Miriam? The surge of adrenaline carries me silently through the butler’s pantry. The door has been ripped open and the security console is bloody. He has Miriam in the cellar with him. I shiver, grip my gun, slip inside and hurdle the rail.

  I hit the cellar floor.

  Aiden crowds the still-closed panic room door, a red gouge on his cheek. Miriam, on her knees beside him, her arm hanging at an odd angle. Broken bottles. Spilled wine, sweet and cloying.

  I hesitate for one second, waiting for my finger to squeeze, for the trigger to give, expecting a shock of sound that will make my eardrums flinch. Surely his skull is about to jolt, splatter on the metal door. Nothing happens.

  The second passes.

  Miriam groans.

  Aiden pushes her hard against the wall, forcing her hand onto the security panel.

  Why is he still moving?

  Why isn’t he dead?

  Why haven’t I pulled the trigger?

  “Stop.” Thick air swallows my voice, makes it small.

  His shoulders square, the infrared scanner flickers and Miriam crumples senseless to the floor.

  “If you don’t stop, I’ll blow your brains out.”

  The door slides back.

  Emergency light cuts the room.

  He lifts a gun.

  I fire.

  Screams ring from the panic room.

  Blood bursts from his hand.

  His gun ricochets off the wall.

  He screams.

  I launch myself across the cellar floor, slamming Aiden into the wall. His skull hits concrete, a muted thwack, his body jerking powerfully against me. A cry rips from my throat, rising above the clamour. “Run, Kitty! Go!”

  She and Barb scramble behind me.

  I struggle with Ai
den, his body lean, hard-muscled, his good arm wrecking havoc on my kidneys, fierce blows as he bucks. I hear Kitty and her mother scrabbling up the stairs and I will them away. Aiden writhes and I grasp his injured hand and squeeze. He shakes and screams. I force my elbow under his chin and ram his head back, once, twice and he goes limp. I hold him up by the neck, bringing my gun to his head. His black eyes roll back.

  Do it.

  My muscles contract to pull the trigger, but there’s something else in that moment, the same thing that shifted my aim in the first shot. I growl and shudder.

  Pull the trigger.

  I step back, let him slump to the floor and stand over him, shaking, bracing my arms, cradling the gun with both hands, pressure building in my head.

  Kill him.

  “I will!” I burst out, panting, startled by my own voice, the stinging wetness in my eyes. “Now! I’m going to do it!”

  BANG.

  I shoot wide, the bullet smokes in the concrete. An animalistic groan shudders out of me, seismic strain threatening internal combustion.

  Do it now.

  His eyes move beneath milky translucent lids, long lashes brushing beneath. I stare at his face, paralysed by the details: the slope from brow to nose, the high arch of cheekbone, pale skin, freckles dusting his nose, the strong jaw, lips budding and innocent in sleep. I stay like that, staring and not killing, until my eyes dry and sting.

  Seconds string out, becoming minutes …

  How long? I grip the gun tighter, staring and not killing. The handle grinds against the bones in my thumb, sweat beads on my lip, my arms ache from the tension.

  His eyes open.

  I jolt back, clutching panicked breaths.

  His pupils have shrunk, his focus goes in and out and he groans, his face stricken, tears spilling. “Don’t let me hurt her.” His voice catches. “Don’t let me – oh God, Evie?” His body arches, muscles spasming, mouth contorting. “Help me. It’s coming, please, I can’t.”

  Distant noises echo above us and I look up at the door. Pain strikes me in the chest, driving air from my lungs – Aiden’s foot, ramming me backwards. I have one brief glimpse of him, black-eyed and springing upright before my head hits the wooden shelf with a blinding thwack, my gun clattering into the shadows. My skull feels split in two, and he flies up the stairs.

  STRAY

  I yank a knife from the block by the stove and stagger out the kitchen door. The rain has stopped but the wet night air hits me like a cold slap. My vision blurs from the blunt-force trauma and the sweet reek of wine fumes up from my shoes. I can’t think about Miriam, still lying on the floor of the cellar. I close my eyes to feel for Aiden’s retreat. A frenetic note spikes in the interference and behind it, thinly, the pulse of the tether. I veer right, working hard to straighten my body from its defensive hunch, pain pressing like a cinder block on the back of my head.

  Rainclouds obscure the moon and I struggle to bring the landscape into focus. I can hear sirens and the lights of emergency vehicles flicker across the grass as I run past the pool house.

  Please, let them reach Leonard in time.

  A dark blur at the far corner triggers a charge in my system, sharpening my vision. I race after Aiden, into the stable yard and come to a sliding standstill. He has stopped beside the utility shed and he stares towards the forest as if he’s listening – his head rocks back and his chin juts forwards. The faint pull of the tether dies and my heart stops beating.

  He feels it too.

  Kitty has crossed the river.

  Fear flashes through me. I draw my arm back and hurl the knife, picturing where it will cut through his temple, but he shoots away and the blade buries itself in the shed wall, right where his head had been. I fly after him, wrenching the knife from its hold. Racing down the sodden lawn, I just glimpse him as he disappears through the trees.

  “Aiden!” I scream. I swipe snot and tears from my face as I run, surprised to find myself crying. Finally, I reach the dark wall of the forest and whip between the grey trunks where the night sounds close in. Branches slap at my face, brambles scratch my arms, tear at my waterlogged clothes and my terror for Kitty throbs in each footfall.

  I follow the sound of him, the feel of him ahead of me, instinct and desperation driving me like a machine. The air grows frigid as we near the river, as cold as my panic at the sound of water on stones. Almost immediately there’s a break in Aiden’s stride and my senses blind as he crosses over.

  “Aiden!”

  I clatter down the stony bank, see the leap I will make and launch in a hurdler’s stride. The black gleam of the river ripples beneath me then his signal bursts back to life and the tether snaps strong and clear. I land running. He has turned to the left, following the bank towards his goal.

  I gain enough ground that I can make out Aiden as he darts through the trees. “Aiden!” I scream again.

  The sound of Kitty’s terror echoes back to me; she’s heard my warning. Her cry goes up, it swells and dies and swells again. She’s so close – so close and now she knows he’s coming.

  Aiden skids and veers right.

  I glimpse the pale flick of Kitty’s hair, Barb beside her, sobbing as she pulls her daughter by the arm. She shouts as we close in, pushes Kitty on and turns, hands out. Aiden mows through Barb like she’s nothing and sends her slamming into the mud-packed ground, knocking her head hard.

  Kitty screams.

  Aiden launches at her, his good arm collecting her across the face, a thwack of bone on bone. I roar, terrified the blow has broken her neck, and throw my knife again but he lunges and the blade impales the slope of his shoulder. He grunts, tearing the dagger loose just as I slam into him, our joint momentum driving Kitty into the ground.

  She cries out.

  She’s alive.

  I hold Aiden tight around the neck and chest, breathing sweat, earth, pine and that stink of ammonia as we roll off Kitty. I’m barely conscious of his weight as I hit the dirt under him.

  “Kitty, run!” I fight to keep hold of him.

  She struggles to stand, listing to the side, holding her arm.

  Aiden drives his elbow into my chest, winding me as he thrashes upwards. I scramble to my feet, gasping. He looks at Kitty then whirls towards me, teeth bared, eyes black and wild with hate. The knife is gone but there’s no time for it anyway. He comes at me, berserk. No form to his attack, terrifying force in each strike. I struggle to block his fists, shocked by his strength, my bicep screaming as I slip on the mud, my knee ramming the rocky ground.

  Kitty moans.

  Something in the hopeless terror of that sound …

  My instinct flicks from defence to attack and instantly precognition gears to life. I push him back, driving up to my feet. I see his moves before they come, counter deliberately, make room for my retaliation, forcing him on the defensive. Speed, lightness, flexibility, allowing me to dive, spin and strike.

  Snap his neck his spine cave his skull gouge his eyes rip his throat out – anything – anything – just do it now take him end it save her save her save her save her!

  But I stall. Why am I stalling?

  “Go!” I shout. “Kitty, get out of here!”

  “Run!” A voice booms in the dark. “Kitty, go!” Jamie bursts from the wall of trees twenty feet away on my left. Above us, a cleft in the clouds releases moonlight, and Jamie’s arm unfurls with the gleam of his gun.

  I ram my foot into Aiden’s stomach. He buckles and I spin towards Jamie, shifting to place myself between them, not ready, not yet, for the end.

  “Get down!” He stalks towards us, gun trained.

  Let him do it.

  I don’t move.

  The bandwidth shouts Jamie’s intent.

  I picture him firing and Aiden crumpling.

  My instinct roars agreement, but something in me resists, tearing me in two.

  “Evie, move!”

  Let him do it.

  Jamie’s eyes flick left.


  I know Aiden has recovered and stepped out from behind me.

  I don’t feel my lips move. No.

  White powder explodes from the barrel before I hear the shot but it’s too late, I’ve already leaped. The bullet tears through my shoulder, a red-hot shock beneath my collarbone and bursting from my back. Aiden’s cry, behind me, a sound without volume or power, the dull cry of someone surprised by pain. I fall for the longest time – a life’s journey in falling.

  Jamie’s there, his face creased in fear, his mouth moving in the endless repetition of my name. The curve of his lips … I could stare at him forever and not grow tired of looking. Adrenaline has dilated his pupils, but even with his irises black for the fight, he is still beautiful.

  I try to move but fire licks the hollow of my shoulder and I groan.

  Jamie’s hands are under me, lifting me, gathering me into his lap.

  The movement makes me cry in pain.

  I struggle to work my lungs.

  Kitty sobs.

  The tug of the tether startles me.

  Kitty!

  Why isn’t she running?

  Jamie supports my back. “It’s okay. Kitty’s okay.”

  Somewhere behind me comes a low moan, a bubbling sound, life pulsing from a body. I turn. Aiden lies just feet away, eyes wide in the gloom, a scarlet ribbon threading from the corner of his mouth and down across the white stretch of his throat.

  “Aiden.” I push up, grunting, agonised.

  “Evie,” Jamie says. “Leave him.”

  I twist away and crawl one-handed to Aiden’s side. His eyes glaze in and out of focus, pupils retracting. “Aiden?” Blood pools on the ground where I cut his shoulder. A dark patch spreads on his stomach. I cover the stain and wonder at the trajectory of the bullet through my body into his.

  “What are you doing?” Jamie says.

  “I – I don’t know.” I don’t.

  Kitty sobs and hugs herself.

  “I need to finish this,” Jamie says.

  Chaos churns inside me. “He had no choice.”

  “Evie–”