“What do you mean, Jade’s gone?” I ask. “Where would she have gone to?” I’m standing in the middle of the apartment, the warmth of the fire at my back, staring at Lily and the others. We all clearly need more sleep, but don’t have that luxury. At least we get to drink glass after glass of water, the whole store that Eva gathered. After all, we’re not coming back here, and there’s no telling whether there will be any consumable water once we hit Greenwich. And we need to leave. If Smith was telling the truth, then not only do her goons from Toronto know where we are — and, quite possibly, about our plans to head to South London — but also, the UK government will soon be sending some of their more corrupt officers our way.
“I hate to say it, Jasmine, but if you’d stayed here like you told us you were going to, Jade wouldn’t have been able to leave undetected,” Susie says.
I raise an eyebrow at her. “I was returning the ring to the wall, for your information,” I say, trying to keep my voice as calm as possible. My face burns with annoyance.
“No one’s blaming you,” Lily insists. “It was a courageous thing to do … and selfless. We recognize that you risked your personal safety so we wouldn’t have to. But Jade likely couldn’t have left if you’d been here. It’s just the truth.”
“The truth?” I snort, dropping my pole to the floor. “There is no truth any longer. You know how Clarence told us to forget about the concept of being safe? Well, you can forget the concepts of truth and honesty, too. Because Eva’s not here, either. Someone betrayed us to Smith.”
“What do you mean, Eva betrayed you?” Kiki asks.
“No, not Eva. I don’t know who. Someone who knew our plans. Smith was waiting for me when I started on my way back here. And Eva had followed me to the Roman wall. To keep me safe.” I pause, not wanting to tell them how the situation ended. Not wanting to tell them that Eva is dead.
“Where is she now?” Sara asks, clenching her fists. “Coz if she’s in danger, you shouldn’t have left her.”
“She’s dead,” I say, my voice barely a whisper. I look away from everyone’s gaze and down at the floor as I take another gulp of water. Tears blur the wooden planks at my feet.
“But someone told Eva about this place. About a safe house, yeah?” Dani says. “We never asked her how she knew to come here out of all the flats in London. And we didn’t ask if someone brought her here. Maybe that person is the one who betrayed you? Us? And Jade knew exactly where to find us as well. Kind of convenient how she’s disappeared at this time, isn’t it?”
I shrug. “Just like Clarence said, we can’t believe that anywhere or anyone truly offers safety.” It doesn’t matter, anyway, I think. Because Eva’s dead, so we can’t ask her. “I don’t even know how much we can believe in this safety zone — the pentagram or whatever — made up by those churches.”
“Um, your bag is moving,” Lily says, her eyes widening.
“Shit. Mithra.” I open the bag and take her out. She looks up at me, her mouth opening in a silent meow. I scoop her up in my hands. “Can someone get me a bowl? I need to give her some water.”
Dani strides over and strokes Mithra’s head. “She’s beautiful, Jasmine. But you’re not seriously going to bring her with us, are you?”
“I can’t leave her here,” I say, taking the bowl that Lily’s gotten from the kitchen and placing both it and Mithra on one of the carpets. I pour the remainder of my water into the bowl. Mithra gingerly touches the surface of the water with one paw and then licks the water off her fur before beginning to lap it up in earnest. “That’s a death sentence. She was already being dragged around by a bunch of junkies out on a water hunt.” Tears sting my eyes. “And there’s been too much death. I’m not even sure if my mom and my Protector are alive. I know it makes no sense, but I’ve got to do this. I’ve got to keep this kitten safe.”
“You bring her, you’re responsible for ’er,” Sara says flatly. “Any water she needs comes from you.”
I want to punch her in the face. “I think you can see I’m already taking full responsibility for her,” I say through gritted teeth.
“Okay, enough,” Lily says. “We’ve got to go.” She looks over at Kiki. “You said you’ve got the route on your watch?”
Kiki nods.
As we leave the apartment and head out into the smoky morning air, poles in hand, I can’t keep one thought from running through my mind: with Eva and Jade both gone, there are now only six of us. According to what I’ve been told about the Final Battle, there are supposed to be seven Seers. Seven Seers. Seven Archangels. Seven Archons.
However, I’m not sure I can even believe that any longer …
JASMINE
The boat driver either works for the CCT or has been paid enough not to care about shepherding a group of unaccompanied teens, some of whom he likely recognizes from news alerts, down the Thames during a city-wide lockdown. I’m sure he must’ve been paid in advance and in cash. Cash currency is pretty rare these days. From what he’s telling us about the entire banking system having been shut down by hackers, it’s soon going to be beyond precious.
I glance out and across the Thames. We’re heading out of the docks area and toward the river. A large building with the words Butler’s Wharf on it stands like an imposing giant on the opposite bank. The sun is just rising; the words are barely visible in the early dawn light and through the yellow-grey veil of smoke. Shouting and the occasional loud bang, like that of a firecracker or a gunshot, can be heard in the distance. The city is filled with negative energy right now. Fear, anger, sadness … the dark forces must be loving this. And becoming so much stronger because of it.
“I’m keeping the motor down,” he tells us, his voice low. He holds out his free hand to each of us in turn while his other hand holds up the corner of a large canvas tarp. We’re going to be hiding under it for the duration of the ride. “The police are likely to have patrols out here on the river, though …” He trails off as he turns to look at the fires dotting the periphery of the river on both sides of us and deeper into the city. “They’ve got their hands full out there.”
I’m the last one to get on the boat and duck under the tarp. We huddle together in silence as the boat slowly makes its way downriver. At one point I doze off, unable to keep my eyes open. The heat from our bodies and our breath makes the temperature under the tarp unbearably warm, and that, combined with the fact that I’ve had literally zero sleep, makes it impossible for me to stay awake, despite my fear of what could happen while I’m napping.
I’ve no idea how long we’ve been under the tarp when the boat bangs up against land. I hold my breath. Is this a planned landing? Clutching our poles tightly, we wait for a signal from the man. We don’t dare say a word to each other until then.
After a few minutes, the man lifts up a corner of the tarp. Sunshine streams in at us.
“Deptford Wharf,” he says, squinting at us. He’s not nearly as young as I’d thought he was when we were getting into the boat in the hazy dawn. Or maybe he’s just had a really hard life. Deep wrinkles are etched into the skin at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead, and his skin is an ashy grey colour.
“Thanks, mate,” Sara says as we climb out.
“I was told to let you know you’re needed at the observatory,” he says, nodding at us. “As soon as possible.”
“Who told you?” I ask. “We’ve had just about enough of being shuttled around and getting only half-truths.”
He smiles at me and shoots me a wink. “Can’t tell you that, now can I, Jasmine? But I suspect you already knew I couldn’t — and wouldn’t. What I can tell you is that you’re all going to have to be careful with the looters and the desperate people out there. I feel bad for you lot. I’m heading out of London as fast as I can. At least I can hide out in the countryside. Planning to find me an abandoned stable somewhere with a well that might still be in use.”
We climb out of the boat and onto shore, using the large rubber tires
and chains that are fastened to the side of the wharf, and the boat continues down the river, toward the Thames Barrier.
“All right, we can do this by keeping close to the river and then heading up to the observatory once we’re closer to the Old Naval College,” Kiki says. “I think that would be best, as it keeps us from having to go deep into residential areas. And we can split up to be less conspicuous. I think that might be better.”
“I don’t know,” I say. “There’s strength in numbers. And we don’t have the ring any longer, remember? That leaves us open to demonic attacks. Even if it is daytime.”
Lily nods. “Jasmine’s right. The collision of London and the Place-in-Between seems to have eroded all the rules.”
We agree that sticking together is the best plan. As we move closer to the town centre, the blare of sirens fills the air. The smoke is thicker here. Shops are on fire along the road directly behind the Cutty Sark, and people are racing in and out of them, carrying all the bottles and food and goods they can manage. Police cars and vans drive toward the crowds, sirens and lights on full. A wall of shielded riot police marches toward the largest group. Some people leap out of the way, others pelt the officers with stones and other objects.
“Clear the high street and go home!” a loudspeaker blares. “You are breaking curfew and will be detained and charged by the authority of His Royal Highness, King George the Seventh.”
This seems to incense the crowd even more.
“Jesus,” Susie says. “It really does feel like the end of the world.”
We pick up our pace to pass behind the Cutty Sark before moving through a small park, pausing behind a few trees as a series of loud explosions coming from the direction of the rioting shakes the air around us, causing a murder of crows on the grass in front of us to rise into the air in an angry symphony of caws.
“This is crazy. Why are we listening to some bloke that’s just ferried us down to South London and into the middle of chaos?” Dani says, wiping away at beads of sweat that line her forehead. She turns to her sister. “Can’t you get ahold of Clarence and ask him what the bloody hell is going on?”
Kiki shakes her head. “I tried on the boat. His video watch is showing him as inactive.” Her eyebrows draw together in a worried furrow. “It’s not showing his beats per minute, either. That means he’s either not wearing his watch, or …” She trails off, her bottom lip shivering with emotion.
“We’ve got to get to the observatory either way,” I say. “Someone or something wants us there. The only way we can find out anything is by going.”
“The Trafalgar is near here,” Dani says. “We could get into the flat upstairs and wait there. Vashti encoded my fingerprints on the pad. Wouldn’t it be better if we hid until it’s dark? Maybe someone there can help us find out what’s happening with Clarence.”
“Or we can stick close to the buildings in the Naval College, then cross Woolwich Road and enter Greenwich Park. Hopefully the park itself will be pretty empty. There’s no reason for any protests to be happening there,” Susie says.
I lean back against the tree and stare at the Thames. The water level seems incredibly high; it’s almost level with the ground on either side of it, each wave threatening to spill over the river’s edge and onto land.
“I’m not sure we should hide any longer,” I say, “mainly because someone has been reporting our every move lately, and we don’t know who that might be.” A muffled explosion shatters the air from somewhere to the left of us, back in the vicinity of the Cutty Sark. “But also, I think this is the time for us to find out exactly what’s happening. And I have to find my sister and make sure she’s okay.”
“I agree that we should get to the observatory,” Sara says. The warm morning air and bright sun has already caused streaks of red to bloom across her cheeks and nose. She looks uncomfortable.
Loud shouting and hoots of anger on the path nearby cut our conversation short. We all visibly tense up and hold our poles tight.
A group of about ten men and women are moving in our direction. They’re carrying bottles of water and cans of cider. From the looks of things, the cider is already being consumed pretty quickly.
“Hello, girls!” one of the men says, raising an eyebrow flirtatiously at us. He’s got bulldog jowls and a paunchy stomach. God, even with the world possibly ending, men are still not respecting boundaries. I wrinkle my nose at him. We are young enough to be his daughters.
“Leave them alone, Ritchie,” another man says as he tips a cider can to his lips. He wipes his mouth with the back of his hand. “We need to get back to the house and hunker down until this insanity is over.”
There’s a low moan from just behind the little crowd of cider drinkers. Blood drains from my face.
I jump to my feet, along with Sara, Susie, and Lily. Dani and Kiki slowly stand.
Another moan is heard, but this time from the direction of the Thames. And this moan is bubbly, wet, and even more guttural.
No way.
The first zombie makes its presence known pretty fast. There’s an ear-shattering screech from one of the women at the back of the group; the zombie is tearing out the side of the neck of the man she’s standing beside.
A geyser of bright crimson blood sprays out, covering the woman’s shirt and turning it into a mono-chromatic Pollock painting.
“Oh, my god. Oh, my god,” she chants. It’s clear she’s going into shock. She’s grabbing at the sides of her head, her eyes wide, and rocking her body forward and back.
Sara leaps forward and swings her pole into the base of the zombie’s skull. Though it’s too late for the man: his head is already flopping around like a rag doll’s, and the vacant, glazed look in his eyes confirms he’s passed. Hopefully his death was swift.
The zombie lets out a deep moan as Sara’s pole becomes embedded in its skull. It loosens its hold on the dead man as Sara tries to wrench her pole out. It seems to be enmeshed in a tangle of ligaments and tendons.
“Holy shit,” Lily says. Her eyes widen as she lifts her pole across her chest, taking a defensive stance.
I follow her gaze. There’s a second zombie. And this one is hoisting itself out of the Thames. I blink hard, unable to believe what I’m seeing for a moment.
The Thames zombie is bloated and chalk grey. Its long, tangled brown hair is highlighted with swaths of blue-green algae. One eyeball bulges precariously out of its water-logged socket. It pulls itself to standing and begins lumbering toward the screaming woman, water dripping from its sodden, half-naked body. Each footstep it takes makes a squelching sound.
I don’t even want to think about how the original inhabitant of that body ended up in the river. She’s now a vessel for a lost soul. Maybe she is a lost soul now. After all, unless she slipped and fell in by accident, she was likely feeling some pretty negative vibes at the time of her death. Or didn’t even realize she died.
But now the creature is just hungry. These zombies seem to think that eating living flesh will stop their own degeneration. I’m not sure that theory makes a lot of sense, but I’m also not going to let this fishy monster stick around long enough to find out.
“Watch out!” I yell to the shocked woman, who is still staring at the body of the man lying at her feet. I’m not sure if he was more than a friend, but she’s so out of it from her grief that she doesn’t even notice the approaching danger.
I spring forward at the same time as Lily. I’m going for the zombie, though, and Lily’s read my mind. She throws herself at the woman, grabbing her around the waist and sending her flying to the ground like a professional football player tackling an opponent.
Jumping over them, I bring my pole up in the air and cleanly slice the Thames zombie’s skull in two.
“Holy shit,” one of the men in the group says, his mouth hanging open in awe. “You’re some kind of super-ninjas or something.”
I straighten and brush my hair back off my face. “Get yourselves inside. Barricade y
our doors and windows, and don’t come out until all of this is over,” I say.
“What the bloody hell is going on?” the other woman in the group asks. “This is madness. How are we supposed to know when this hell is actually over?”
“That,” I say, looking her straight in the eyes, “I honestly can’t tell you.”
JASMINE
The buildings of the Old Royal Naval Academy loom over us. They’re impressive grey giants that’ve withstood at least five centuries. The last two have left them pitted and blackened, their outer walls eaten away at by acidic rains and pollution. The walkways along the buildings offer us some sanctuary with their intermittent stone pillars and dark recesses, though I feel more and more that hiding is not only useless, but also will put us at more risk. Every bone in my body urges me to get to the Royal Observatory as quickly as possible.
“There’s the observatory,” Dani says, crouching down and pointing up the large, sloping hill in front of us.
I follow her finger and see a large red-domed building at the top of the hill. It’s not a short trek there, but the park looks completely empty, aside from a couple of hungry-looking stray dogs.
“And there’s a path right behind that line of trees,” Dani adds, pointing to the left. “We could stick to that and be a bit more concealed.”
I pause, sitting back on my haunches. Unlike so many other times in my life, when I’ve acted on impulse, I want to think about this. If I truly am elegido or the Chosen One, as I’ve been told over and over, then whatever is up there is ultimately going to be coming after me. I’m the bait.
“All of you head toward the path,” I say. “I’m going to go straight up the hill. If I’m attacked and things look manageable, join me. If we’re crazy outnumbered, head back to St Alfege Church. To the protection of the pentagram.”
Darkness Rising Page 21
