Seth steps toward me. “Jade,” he whispers.
I glance down at Martha. It’s difficult to see her body clearly, but Seth’s video watch throws enough light for me to at least see what’s happened. Her right temple is caved in like a month-old jack-o’-lantern. Her eyes bulge from the delicate skin around their sockets, and her mouth is frozen open, as if she’s still in the middle of a silent scream.
Dead. Clearly, her death was instantaneous.
I raise an eyebrow at Seth. “Bit extreme, don’t you think?” I murmur. Somewhere in the back of my mind is this faint feeling that I should be upset — outraged, really — by the fact that Martha’s been murdered in such a cold-blooded way. And yet, I feel numb. Her corpse means little more to me than a crumpled paper bag.
After all, Martha was holding a knife to my neck. With the intent to kill me …
“She was going to kill you, Jade,” Seth answers, as though reading my mind. “But you knew that. Didn’t you?” He takes a step forward. Every cell in my body is drawn toward him. His scent is all around — it is the smell of cloves, of frankincense, of ancient pharaohs’ tombs …
My stomach lurches violently. It sounds crazy, but it almost feels like something is in there … something that does not belong to me. Not fully, anyhow.
“I couldn’t let anything happen to you, Jade,” Seth says. He’s closer now, so close I can feel the warmth of his breath on my skin. “And it was so justified.”
Every cell in my body wants to connect with him, despite my memory of what happened the day of our picnic in Corktown Common. I’ve never felt so out of control in my life.
Except maybe during my time in the Place-in-Between …
“We need you, Jade. You’re the one who holds the fate of the human race … of the entire planet, in fact.” He glances down at Martha’s body. If he feels anything about her death or about killing her, it definitely doesn’t show in his face. “She was going to kill you. We couldn’t — I couldn’t possibly let that happen to you.”
Each freckle on his face dances out at me. His eyes lock on mine.
“How can I save the planet?” I whisper. “We’ve passed the tipping point with climate change, and the barrier between here and the Place-in-Between has collapsed. I don’t see what I could possibly do to reverse all of that.”
Seth smiles. His teeth, impossibly straight and impeccably white, shine out at me. For a moment, I nearly ask him how he got here — meaning both London and the Place-in-Between, during our last visit. I open my mouth, but Seth interjects before I can get a word out.
“Jade, you have no idea of the power you carry inside you.”
“As a Seer?” I ask, raising an eyebrow at him. “They teach us all about it at Beaconsfield, actually.”
“Yes, there are your powers as a Seer, but there’s so much more. More than you could ever imagine.” He stops speaking and glances down the tunnel, his ginger brows drawing together in an expression of concern. “The others will be heading back soon. Mick will lose his already fragile hold on sanity when he discovers there is no virtual reality machine that will allow him to escape London.”
“What can we do? Short of slaughtering the entire group of them completely, how do we get out of here?”
A slow smile spreads across Seth’s face at my suggestion. To my surprise, a jolt of excitement jars my stomach. I recoil, more disturbed by the fact that my body has reacted positively to the suggestion of such crazy violence than anything else.
“I wasn’t being serious. You know that, right?” I say, my voice shaking.
“Of course,” Seth answers, taking another step forward. We’re now just centimetres apart, so close that I’m sure he can hear my heartbeat. Somehow, I’m certain he knows that the thought of murdering everyone momentarily excited me.
“And there’s Mr. Khan and Amara to think about,” I say. My voice is now barely a whisper. “I can’t possibly leave without them. Mick will kill them.”
Seth smiles again. It’s really more of a smirk than a smile. The corners of his mouth tug upward, and his eyes sparkle with a gleeful cruelty.
“Oh, Jade,” he says. “I think you know you can leave without them … and that you will.”
JASMINE
Atika’s dead. One more name to add to the growing list of casualties in this war. Sara gently places the index and middle fingers of her right hand over Atika’s pale lips.
“Rest in peace, mate,” Sara says, her voice wavering. She straightens up and squints into the sunlight, eyes narrowed. “At least they’re together. And hopefully at peace.”
I nod. “It’s like you read my thoughts,” I reply, crouching down beside Atika’s body. “Inshallah, fellow warrior.”
“She should be buried within twenty-four hours,” Sara says. “If the world was at all normal and not the effed-up piece of shite it actually is, we’d be able to get that done for her.” She turns to me. “I’m gonna be straight-up with you — I still don’t trust you, mate. But it seems I’m stuck with you. For now.”
Before I have a chance to reply, a door swings open a few houses down, and a middle-aged woman with a rat’s nest of curly orange hair steps onto the sidewalk. Despite the early hour, she’s already got an anti-pollution mask over her mouth and nose. Her doughy, alabaster skin crinkles like tissue paper at the mask’s edge, where her cheeks and the fabric meet.
I sit down beside Atika and quickly prop her into a sitting position against the brick wall behind us. Her mouth drops open at an awkward angle, making her look like she’s had a stroke or something.
The woman turns to us. “You all right?” she asks, her voice muffled.
No, no, we’re not okay. For starters, I’m sitting beside a dead girl, and not just an ordinary dead girl, but a Seer who had special powers. And I’m one, too. We can fight and kill demons, but it’s a two-way street; they can destroy us, too. And that’s why I’m sitting with a corpse.
“Too much to drink,” I say with what I hope is a casual shrug and a wry smile. I’m glad that Atika didn’t have time to put on her hijab before the demons attacked. Otherwise, my drunken stupor story might have fallen flat. I feel bad about it, knowing how disrespectful it is to Atika’s religious beliefs, but I don’t know of anything else that might make this woman leave us alone. If I say Atika’s fainted or is really ill, the woman might insist on calling an ambulance and staying with us. I’m hoping this way, she might not be as eager to get involved.
“She threw up a bunch of times and then passed out,” I say, wrinkling my nose and sticking out my tongue to express just how gross Atika’s fictional vomiting was. “So now we’re getting her home before her mother kills her — and us — for being out all night.”
Sara’s head swivels toward me at the same time that the woman’s eyebrows shoot up in surprise.
“All night? You mean you missed curfew?” the woman asks.
Damn. What was I thinking? Of course London has a curfew. Every major city does.
I open my mouth to speak, but the woman is already talking into her video watch. “Yes, I’d like the hotline for anti-social behaviour.”
“You bleeding rat,” Sara hisses. She turns and runs at the woman, giving her a violent two-handed shove to the chest.
A high-pitched, pig-like squeal of surprise and indignation escapes from the woman as she tumbles backward, arms spinning like a wind turbine.
“Run!” Sara says, grabbing my hand and yanking me to my feet.
I pause for a moment, looking down at the sidewalk. A fat, greenish-black fly buzzes around Atika’s cheek before landing on and crawling along her blue-tinged lips.
“She’s dead, Jasmine. There’s nothing we can do. But you’ll be joining her if you don’t move yer arse and come with me right now,” Sara says. She turns on her heel and breaks into a run in the direction that Raphael and the others went.
For a moment, I feel frozen. This is too much. Too much death. It all started with Dad, and now there’s a
pile of corpses … and it’s all my fault. I don’t even know if Mom is alive. Tears well up in my eyes.
The sound of screaming from somewhere ahead of us cuts through the already smoggy morning air. Sara’s running toward the sound.
“Wait!” I yell at her, though I know she won’t. She’s worried Susie and the others might be in danger.
“You little bitch,” the woman says from where she’s fallen on her bum, legs splayed, on the sidewalk. She spits each word at me. Her mask hangs sideways, revealing thin lips coated in crimson lipstick. Two streams of sweat trickle down her face from each temple, and an audible crackling sound emanates from her chest every time she takes a breath. She stares up at me, her eyes bulging like two overboiled eggs. “You think I don’t recognize you from the news clips? You’re one of the terrorists. One of those climate change terrorists from Toronto. You think I’m going to let you poison us? Poison brave Londoners who —”
I cover my ears to block out the woman’s words and run after Sara.
We see them as soon as we turn onto the high street.
Zombies.
Lost souls.
Whatever they are, they’re the same sort of creature that attacked Cassandra. Same vacant stare, same low moaning and grunting sounds. And right now, directly in front of us and in the middle of a busy London street, about five of them are feasting in the bright morning sunshine.
“What the bloody hell?” Sara says, her voice low as she watches one of the zombies, a blood-splattered anti-pollution mask hanging askew from its mouth, pull a handful of flesh from the abdomen of a dead police officer. It begins methodically chewing on the flesh. A taser lies just out of reach of the dead officer’s stiffening fingers. “Those aren’t demons. Are they?” Her eyes widen as the zombie pulls a loop of steaming intestine out of the officer’s shattered abdomen as though it were spaghetti. “I think I’m going to puke.”
I grab her and pull her into the closest doorway. We press ourselves up against the door, trying to keep out of sight.
“Those definitely aren’t demons,” I say in quiet agreement. “Vashti said they were zombies. Apparently they’re lost souls that are now here because of our world colliding with the Place-in-Between. They’re taking over the bodies of the dead. Like demons, except they’re only interested in one thing, and it’s not hunting Seers.”
“And that would be?” Sara asks, peering out at the demon that is still munching on the officer’s guts like it’s working through a bowl of popcorn.
“Eating the flesh of the living,” I reply.
JADE
Thanks to Seth, everything’s clear now. As I step quietly around the body of an elderly man who’s sleeping on the ground, mouth open, a shiny line of spittle leaking from one corner of his thin, cracked lips, I pause to check a map of London on the video watch he gave me.
The man gasps for air for a moment, his chest collapsing like a century-old accordion. I freeze and wait to see if he’ll wake up.
His breathing returns to a shallow snore, and I breathe out slowly with relief. He’s not waking up. That’s a very good thing, because I would’ve had to kill him otherwise.
Not that I’d want to, of course.
Or at least, I don’t think I’d want to …
Gritting my teeth, I turn a corner from the hall and move stealthily along the wall of the hotel foyer, toward one of the front windows. The space is large and full of inky shadows that are hard to decipher. There’s an empty reception desk to the left of me. The darkness is broken only by faint beams of early morning sun peeking through the gaps between the heavy curtains on the bay windows and coming through a skylight in the middle of the foyer.
With Seth’s guidance, I made it out of the abandoned Tube station through an exit that Mick’s crew apparently uses to come above ground, and from there, I entered this hotel (also abandoned, aside from a handful of squatters) to survey the outside surroundings before heading to my destination.
Keeping an eye on the shadows to ensure that none of them move, I slide up to the window and carefully pull back the heavy velvet curtain just enough to peek out.
Patting my pocket, I look outside. The ring is still there, digging ever so slightly into the flesh of my hip.
There’s a road in front of the hotel that’s dotted by the occasional vehicle, and beyond that, a park. Likely once lush and green, the park is now a yellowing mass of high grasses, spindly trees, and brush. At this early hour, and from this distance, it doesn’t look like there are many people in it. In fact, I spot only one person walking a dog. From the way the man or woman — it’s impossible to identify their gender from this far away — is stumbling slowly along, I take a guess that it’s an elderly person.
A hazy film is already unfolding along the skyline behind the park. It’s hard to believe, but it looks denser and dirtier than Toronto’s smog. And our air pollution kills dozens, sometimes hundreds of people a day. I long for a blue sky rather than the yellow brown that is the norm.
The curtain I’m holding on to is dusty. I sneeze explosively. At the same time, there’s a loud bang, like the sound a heavy box dropped from chest height might make.
I freeze and listen for any further noise. Complete silence. But I know I heard it. The sound came from somewhere behind me, near where the sleeping man is. Or was.
Time to get going. I’m not thrilled about travelling around the city in broad daylight; I’ll try to make as much of the journey as I can by foot, as Seth told me that’s the best way to avoid random microchip scans, since they are routinely done by the London Transport Police. Once I’m with Jasmine and the others, things will get more dangerous, of course. At least the ring will give us some semblance of safety.
A series of snapping sounds, followed by a gurgling not unlike the noise of a plunger violently sucking at a clogged sink, echoes from behind me. Cold fingers of dread reach into my bladder. These new sounds are coming from the same place the loud bang sounded a few moments ago.
Though I’d like to bolt out of the hotel, I need to investigate. Better to battle something in here than out on the street, where I’d draw attention to myself. And better to know sooner if I’ve been detected or am being followed. At best, it’s nothing more than a fox or some other large animal scavenging. At worst, it’s one of Mick’s crew or a demon. A demon would actually be better, as I’m still able to control them with the ring. Anyone from Mick’s crew? Well, I’d have to kill them.
I creep back toward the spot where I left the elderly man sleeping. Even before I get to the corner to turn in to the hall, I can hear it: the crunch of large twigs under heavy boots accompanied by the guttural, wet sound of someone slurping a bowl of noodles. And then the pungent, coppery smell of fresh blood mixed with rotting garbage hits me like a slap. I reel backward, covering my mouth and nose to keep from vomiting. It’s got to be a demon or demons … but these must be the loudest, most foul-smelling demons ever. I move forward a step or two and peer around the corner.
A creature is gnawing at the old man’s bony upper arm like it’s at an all-you-can-eat feast. I’m pretty sure that it’s not entirely demonic. At least, it’s not the type of demon I’ve encountered here and in the Place-in-Between. Demons generally wound to kill — at least that’s what they do to Seers — or they drink blood and inhabit bodies. As far as I know, human bodies aren’t as tasty as fried chicken to them. I look over at the creature again. It’s so busy tearing and gulping down bloody clumps of geriatric flesh, it doesn’t even notice me.
Well, whatever it is, I’m going to make sure I’m not its dessert.
I begin to slowly walk backward. I don’t want to take my eyes off of it, but I can’t bear to continue watching the grisly feast. My stomach is taking that all-too-familiar rollercoaster ride again, and I can feel vomit — hot and acidic — making its way up my throat.
The back of my heel hits down against something that skitters away across the tiled floor, causing me to lose my balance. It might’
ve been a pen or some other fairly small, hard object, but whatever it was, it sends me pinwheeling into the wall with a thump.
I steady myself, hold my breath, and listen.
Silence. The creature has stopped chewing the old man’s body. Is that because it heard me? I’ve got no pole, and nothing close by that I can use as a substitute.
I turn my head. One of the curtain rods hanging over the large bay windows at the far end of the foyer might work. If the rod is really heavy, fighting the creature off will be more cumbersome, but still, not impossible.
The smell of blood sweeps over me like a veil. I swivel my head back around. The creature is now standing less than an arm’s length away from me, its vacant, cataract-covered eyes staring right into mine.
JASMINE
“Jesus,” Sara says, shaking her head. Strands of hair stick to the sweat on her cheeks, which she absently wipes away as she speaks. “You’re not taking the piss, are you? This just keeps getting better and better. Where the feck are the others?” She presses her lips together, her eyes darkening at the cannibalism unfolding in front of us. “You don’t think the zombies got them, do you?”
I shake my head. “The good thing — if there can possibly be a good thing about any of this — is that these zombies seem much easier to kill. They don’t have the speed or the strength of demons,” I say. “And I really don’t think the zombies —”
Before I can finish my thought, two white cars come tearing around the corner from behind us. The passenger window of the first car slides down. Lily sticks her head out, her black hair gleaming in the sun.
“Get in!” she shouts, her eyes wild as she glances over at two of the zombies that have gotten to their feet and are awkwardly shuffling toward the car.
The back door closest to us slides open, and Sara and I dash for it. I leap in first, sliding across the cool interior like a baseball player heading for home plate and nearly slamming my head into the door on the opposite side. Sara jumps in behind me, and the door slides shut behind us without a sound.
Darkness Rising Page 13
