“Mendia? That’s a tiny island in Europe. Why is he going to war with them?” Dylan said.
“Because they’re the richest country in the world is my guess,” Neelam said.
“But why now?”
Lucy continued. “It says here that Dame Atkins was killed while on government business in Mendia. They insist it was an accident, but Goulden isn’t happy about it, so he’s given them until tomorrow to admit that this was a politically motivated attack on Britain. He wants the King to stand down and hand control of Mendia back to Britain, who last ruled the country in 1859.”
“And if they don’t?”
“The report says: ‘If King Nicolas of Mendia does not see the error of his ways and follow our wishes, then we will have no opportunity but to consider relations between the countries to have become hostile and that Britain is at war with Mendia,’ the Prime Minister told the waiting press outside No 10.”
“What?” Scarlett said. “Goulden’s definitely lost it this time. He’s inventing wars out of some petty spat. No offence to Dame Atkins, but this has clearly been blown out of all proportion by Goulden for his own gain.”
“It wouldn’t surprise me if he had her killed to start the whole thing,” Dylan said. “He knows exactly what he’s doing and this is all a ruse to get his hands on Mendia’s money and land. He probably fancies the idea of ruling a beautiful island off the coast of Italy.”
“My head hurts,” Alex said. “I’m not following any of this, can someone please tell me what’s going on.”
Dylan answered in his best authoritative leader voice. “In short, the government is corrupt, many of the UK’s top businesses are corrupt and they’re all making money out of forcing much of the public to be slaves. Even worse than that, Goulden is creating a huge stash of weapons to start some ludicrous war with Mendia in order to seize their land and money. If that happens, who knows which country he’ll eye up next? Plus, I’m guessing that if we do go to war with Mendia, they’ll strike back with a revenge attack, which could well be what Mason foresaw. It makes sense that they’d hit Manchester to wipe out the Arndale Workhouse if weapons are being made there.”
Alex glanced from side to side apprehensively. “OK, when you put it like that, things sound pretty bad.”
“Yes.”
Dylan was clicking away on Lucy’s laptop as he listened.
“Are we going to stop him?”
“Of course.”
“Are we going to free Jay, Isabella and Aaron first?”
“No time. I take it you didn’t find out where they were, Lucy?”
She shook her head sadly. Scarlett didn’t need psychic powers to know Lucy was disappointed that she hadn’t unearthed any news about her brother, but Lucy didn’t like to discuss her emotions, so she stuck to the matter at hand.
“No, I tried looking for them first, but there are no records and that’s when I came across all this.”
“Then we’ll have to go without them.”
“Go where?” Scarlett asked.
“London. It says in this report that Hipplewell and Goulden are meeting with the Mendia foreign embassy tomorrow for last-minute talks, so it’s down to us to make sure this doesn’t turn into a war.”
“And let me guess… how will we get there?” Alex asked.
“You can teleport us down to Hipplewell’s office, then we’ll do our best to convince him to keep the peace by threatening to reveal his corruption with the bank.”
He had a conspiratorial glint in his eye.
“So it can wait till morning?”
“Yes.”
“It that case I’m going to have a nap.” And with that, Alex wandered off to the nearby beds. “Night.”
Chapter 11
The rest of the group were exhausted too, so they soon followed Alex’s cue and turned in for the night once they’d finished eating. Scarlett and Dylan took beds beside each other and when she woke up the next morning, she was surprised to see him staring at her.
“You’re awake,” she whispered. A glance at her watch told her it was 6.50am.
“Yeah, I couldn’t sleep.”
“Worrying about things?”
“Yeah, mostly about you though.”
“Me? Why?”
“You’re being so reckless, Scarlett, it concerns me, especially after what Mason saw about… you know.”
“About me dying? Dylan, that premonition was of me being killed by Goulden’s men in the London house and that life is behind us now, so Mason’s vision can obviously never come true.”
“But what if we simply delayed it. Can we really avoid our fate?”
“Great, cheers, thanks.” Scarlett said. “Make me feel good about myself, why don’t you? So now you’re saying I’m destined to die?”
“No… I was thinking aloud I guess.”
“Well don’t, especially if you’re thinking rubbish. I’m not even supposed to be in this stupid reality, so I’m proof that there’s no such thing as fate and pre-destined paths. I’ll be fine, trust me.”
“OK, but please promise me there’ll be no more solo heroics and you’ll stick to working as part of a team like we’ve always done.”
Scarlett sighed. She didn’t want to promise any such thing, but she knew it was what Dylan wanted to hear. What he needed to hear. And until she said it, he was never going to shut up lecturing her.
“OK, yes. Yes! I’ll be a good girl if you stop trying to protect me.”
“I’m your boyfriend.”
“You’re our leader. Put the good of the group and the world before me.”
“I can’t do…” Dylan paused as he heard women chattering in the distance. “That must be the cleaners. We need to get out of here.”
The two of them jumped out of their beds, then woke Neelam, Lucy and a reluctant Alex. As the cleaning ladies’ voices grew closer, the five of them did a quick tidy and grabbed the leftover food, then Alex teleported them out of there a second before the women turned the corner and narrowly missed finding the squatting teenagers.
The group reappeared on the street outside, where it was still pitch black.
“It’s dark,” Lucy complained.
“Which is lucky considering Alex popped us up in the middle of a busy street.” Dylan shook his head.
“Sorry,” Alex said. “I panicked and couldn’t think of anywhere but here and that alley we were in last night. I didn’t fancy being down there at this time in a morning.”
“Fair enough, I don’t even fancy being here at this time in the morning.” Dylan glanced around nervously as though he was expecting someone to mug them at any second.
“So what now?” Scarlett said.
“Let’s go to London and see if we can stop this war from happening.”
“Any part in particular?” Alex asked.
“Can you get into the Houses of Parliament?”
“No chance. Whoever built that place years ago smartly added gold decoration all over it, which stops my powers from working.”
“Damn.” Dylan peered at his watch and realised it was only 7am. “Hipplewell should still be at home. Lucy, do you know where that is?”
Lucy looked around them to be sure there were no thieves lurking around, then perched on a nearby bollard and powered her laptop on.
“Give me a minute,” she said as she typed away. “Got it! He stays at his London house in Hampstead during the week and the address is 11 Ladywell Road. Alex, do you think you can take us there?”
“I’ve never been to Hampstead before.”
“I have,” Scarlett said, taking his hand. “Let’s see if I can control your powers and guide you there.”
“Does your new power work like that?”
“Well, I control things by enhancing them, so hopefully I can fine tune yours. It’s worth a try, right?”
“OK.” Alex and Scarlett linked hands with the rest of the group and a second later they popped up outside Hampstead Tube Station in north London
.
“Looks like it worked,” Lucy said, pointing at the station sign. “Right, the map says that Ladywell Road is this way.”
Scarlett and the others followed Lucy through the London suburb’s upmarket streets, which were lined with grand period houses, until they came to one with an olive-green door and a silver BMW parked outside.
“This is it,” Lucy said. “Plan?”
“Go in there and talk some sense into him I guess,” Dylan said.
“Can’t we kidnap him?” Lucy said. “People like him don’t see sense.”
Dylan ignored her. “It’s worth a go, come on.”
They crept up the stone steps to the front door, which Scarlett telekinetically opened with ease.
As they tiptoed through the entrance hallway, they could hear voices coming from the back of the house, so they followed the chattering until they came to a doorway at the end of the corridor. Scarlett slowly turned the handle and stepped inside.
A family of four were gathered around a stylish breakfast bar. The two children grasped at their mum’s legs for comfort, while she stood there looking gobsmacked. The man, who Scarlett assumed to be Alan Hipplewell, slammed his coffee mug down on the worktop.
“Who the hell are you?” he said. He was dressed ready for work in a smart shirt and trousers and he looked furious.
“Take what you want,” his chic, brunette wife said. “Just don’t hurt us.”
“We don’t want to hurt you,” Dylan said calmly, but it was no use.
Mrs Hipplewell was screaming and clutching her son and daughter protectively. From the chic kitchen to the immaculate children who looked like they’d leapt out of a Boden catalogue, Scarlett couldn’t help but notice how idyllic and quaint their life was. She hadn’t seen this kind of domestic bliss since she left her own family behind in her ‘normal’ reality.
“Please,” Neelam said. “Don’t panic. We just want to talk to you.”
Scarlett could tell from the look of concentration on Neelam’s face that she was using her telepathic powers to calm the family down. Suddenly, Mrs Hipplewell and the children became composed and serene, then slowly walked from the kitchen and closed the door behind them. Scarlett shoved a chair in front of it to prevent Alan from making a quick escape.
“What do you want?” he asked.
“We want you to stop war breaking out with Mendia,” Dylan said.
“Nonsense. You don’t understand anything about this, you’re just kids.”
“We understand everything about this,” Scarlett said. “We know Goulden only wants this war to take Mendia’s land and money, we know how power crazed he is and we know plenty about you too.”
“Like what?” He laughed.
“Like you’re a director of the National Allied Bank and the company that owns the Irwell Tower. Like you’re using the government’s workhouse slaves to staff up the whole bank and like that means you’re making lots of money in profit out of exploiting those people.”
“So what?”
“So it’s immoral and I think the public will agree with us if we leak this.”
“You have no proof.”
“That’s what you think.”
Hipplewell sighed. “You kids can’t prove anything and no one will listen to you anyway.”
“The press will; we’ll give them an anonymous tip off.”
“The press do as the Prime Minister and the New Way party tell them. They won’t print this nonsense. Now get back to school or the workhouse or wherever you belong…”
“How can you be so sure,” Dylan said. He took a step closer to Hipplewell and stared at him. “How do you know that we can’t bring you down, because I’m sure that we can. However, we won’t if you put a stop to this war.”
“Never.”
“Do you know who we are?”
“I don’t care who you are.”
Dylan lifted water from a jug on the breakfast bar, flew it through the air and dropped it over the MP’s head, drenching him. It was a harmless prank, but Dylan did it to show off his powers. Scarlett took her cue to display her skills too, lifting a newspaper from the table and launching it at Hipplewell so it slapped him in the face.
“Fancy seeing your name splashed across that front page?” she said. “Because we’ll make sure it happens and where will you and your family live then? In the gutter like the rest of us, that’s where. Your name will be ruined and you’ll have nothing.”
Scarlett figured the only threat this man would take seriously was making him consider what life would be like without all his comforts and luxury. Money was the only language his type spoke.
“I could help with that too,” Lucy said as she made the lights flicker and switched on the kettle, dishwasher, washing machine and microwave.
“What the…” he stammered as they bombarded him with a display of their powers.
“How are you doing this?” He looked as scared as he was angry as he staggered a few steps away from them towards the kitchen table.
“I control water.”
“I’m telekinetic.”
“And I manipulate electricity,” Lucy said as she picked up his iPad. “Scarlett, can you hover this to him please?”
Scarlett whisked the sleek, black device over to Hipplewell and levitated it in the air in front of him. His eyes went huge as Lucy switched it on before his eyes.
“Is this your bank account?” she said.
“Yes, how did you log in? I’ll have you arrested.”
“It’s part of my power. As is this…” She made the money vanish in front of his eyes.
“Where did it all go?”
“Technical slip up.” Lucy laughed
“You’ve stolen it!”
“No, look, it’s back now.” Lucy changed Hipplewell’s balance back to its normal amount. “But I could take it away again just as quickly.”
“We can destroy you and your life,” Scarlett said.
She copied Dylan and took a step towards Hipplewell, but as she did so, she noticed him reach towards a kitchen drawer behind him.
“Neelam,” she yelled through their mind link. “Stop him.”
The MP froze, then yelped and shook his head in agony.
“What did you do?”
“Telepathically shocked him as quickly and powerfully as I could. I hit him with everything I had.”
Hipplewell was still screaming as Dylan peered in the now-open kitchen drawer the MP had reached into.
“It’s a good thing you did because there’s a gun in here.” He grabbed a pen and paper and scribbled out a note. “Alex, get us out of here.”
Scarlett glanced at the message Dylan had left on the table.
“Do the right thing. Stop the war or lose everything.”
“Come on, Scarlett.”
Alex had his hand outstretched, waiting for her to run over to them so they could escape. As she joined the group, Neelam let go of her psychic hold on Hipplewell, freeing him from her power as they teleported away.
Their surroundings instantly changed from the warm comfort of the politician’s kitchen to the cold, harsh streets of Manchester, and it looked like they’d landed smack bang in the middle of trouble.
They were standing at the top of New Cathedral Street, where a gang of 10 or more men were gathered outside an upmarket jewellery store down the road. They were all dressed head to toe in black with balaclavas on their heads. No one came out in a get-up like that unless they were intent on causing havoc.
“Help,” a woman screamed down the road. “They’re robbing me.”
Chapter 12
Scarlett looked towards the crime scene and assessed the situation. The woman was standing in the street with her hands flailing in the air while one man pointed a gun at her, telling her to be quiet. The woman was hysterical and kept screaming and shouting for help.
“Shut up,” the man said as he slapped her round the face.
Three men were standing with him while another
six were crowded around the front of a store, which the woman seemed desperate to get back inside to protect her business from these robbers. As much as Scarlett admired the woman’s bravery, she knew she’d get hurt if she didn’t back down soon. Desperate to stop that happening, Scarlett sprang into action and flew straight at the crime scene.
“Let her go,” she said as she approached the robbers and punched one of them in the face.
The other men stood back and laughed.
“Whoa, look, it’s Supergirl. Where’s your cape, love?”
Scarlett wasn’t impressed by their jokes or their vile behaviour. It was time these thugs were taught a lesson. She telekinetically grabbed the one closest to the woman and flung him down the street.
“I don’t need a cape. Now, do the rest of you want some of this?”
“Freak,” the shortest of the robbers said.
Before Scarlett could even begin to react, he grabbed a gun and fired it at her. She panicked and froze to the spot, unable to even think about deflecting or dodging the bullet. Thankfully, Dylan flew to her rescue and carried her out of harm’s way.
“Thanks,” she said. “I can take care of myself though.”
“Not this time.”
He glared at her angrily as he placed her back on the ground. She responded by brushing herself down and shooting him a defensive, begrudging look.
“That woman needs our help,” she said.
“That’s what I’m doing, if you’ll let me.”
He grabbed Scarlett’s hand and tapped into her boosting power, which allowed him to create ice from thin air and form a frosty wall in front of the shop. That should keep the robbers from getting inside. Next, he made an ice slide next to the woman and moved her down it so she was a safe distance away from the group. Then he gave Lucy a nod.
“Blast them, Luce.”
Lucy let rip with an almighty burst of lightning that was so powerful, it forked and hit each one of the gang at once, causing them to scream in agony.
Scarlett couldn’t believe Dylan had told Lucy to do that. He’d always been so restrained and adamant that they shouldn’t hurt others in the past. These guys deserved everything they got though.
Out Of Time (Book 2): Heroes and Villains Page 9
