Fracture

by C. J. Daugherty

  ‘Look, Isabelle,’ she said hesitantly. ‘Maybe I should just go —’

  Isabelle raised her head, fixing her with a steely, incriminating gaze. ‘You do not get any say in what happens right now, Allie. You have broken every Rule Cimmeria has. You betrayed my trust. You stole from me.’

  Her hurt and anger cut through Allie’s battered defences – her lower lip trembled. There was truth in what the headmistress said. Isabelle had taken care of her, looked out for her – maybe even loved her. And she’d betrayed her.

  My reasons were good, she told herself for the thousandth time.

  But somehow that wasn’t comforting any more.

  As if she could read her thoughts, Isabelle spoke quietly. ‘I don’t know how we will ever trust each other again. Maybe Jerry’s right. Maybe things have gone so far you don’t belong here any longer. Perhaps I should give you what you want.’ Reaching into her pocket she pulled out her phone – Somebody must have found it in the woods, Allie thought – and scrolled through her contacts. Pressing the dial button she said, ‘But that is not my decision to make.’

  A voice answered.

  ‘Would you like to speak with her now?’ Isabelle asked. After a second, the headmistress crossed the small room and held out the phone. Suspicious, Allie made no move to reach for it but Isabelle didn’t back down.

  ‘Take it,’ she said, her voice icy.

  Swallowing hard, Allie took the device, still warm from Isabelle’s hand.

  ‘Hello…?’ she said hesitantly.

  ‘Allie,’ a brisk voice replied. ‘This is your grandmother. I understand we need to talk.’

  SIX

  ‘I

  understand why you don’t feel safe at Cimmeria any more, but you will most certainly not be safe if you leave the school.’ Lucinda spoke in a curiously monotone manner, as if they were in a business meeting and she was listing the facts about a project. ‘Yes, there is someone working against us at Cimmeria and, yes, that person is dangerous and, no, I don’t know who it is. But while you are at school, you are at least surrounded by people who are trying to protect you.’

  Allie made an impatient noise – she knew all this already. Lucinda paused. When she spoke again, her tone was more urgent.

  ‘Allie, so far we’ve failed to keep you safe. We failed your friend Jo most of all. And I am truly sorry about that. But if I promised you nobody else will be hurt, I’d be lying. This is a dangerous situation.’

  Her words rang true. Allie’s heart speeded up and she squeezed the phone tight, as if afraid it might escape.

  ‘I know exactly what Nathaniel’s thugs did to her and to you. If I were you, I’d want to run as far and fast as I could to put all this behind me. But no matter how fast you run, Nathaniel will find you in the end.’ Lucinda’s tone intensified. ‘So don’t run, Allie. Stay. And fight back with me.’

  Allie was stunned. Was her grandmother asking for her help?

  ‘Fight back?’ she asked. ‘How?’

  ‘Nathaniel is out of control, Allie, and I want to see him suffer. I want his plans crushed. I want his hired guns in prison. I want to find out which of our friends is helping him, and I want to deal with that person myself.’ Lucinda’s words were as cold and precise as an ice-pick. ‘I want everything Nathaniel cares about destroyed. But to do that, I need your help. If you stay at Cimmeria, I promise you, Gabe will suffer for what he did. And so will the person who opened the gates that night and let him in.’

  The venom in her tone left Allie with no doubts about whether Lucinda was serious.

  Revenge. The idea grew in her mind until it blocked out everything else. She could avenge Jo’s death. Pay her killers back for what they’d done.

  But to do that she’d have to trust Lucinda. And could she do that? On what would she base this trust? A word. A feeling. The delicate, twisting strands of DNA that connected them.

  It wasn’t enough. She needed to be certain that Lucinda was trustworthy. She needed to know more.

  ‘Why can’t we just call the police?’ she asked. ‘If we tell them what’s happened they’d arrest him. Wouldn’t they?’

  Lucinda’s hesitation was slight, but Allie noticed it. ‘I’m afraid that at the moment the government minister in charge of policing finds Nathaniel very convincing.’

  Puzzled, Allie frowned at the phone. Why would a government minister listen to Nathaniel? He was utterly mad. But then she thought about the way the local police officers had acted this morning and her heart went cold.

  Her voice was plaintive. ‘But the police should arrest him. How is this even possible?’

  ‘It’s all about power,’ Lucinda said. ‘And control. I have it. Nathaniel wants it. It is that simple.’

  ‘No, it’s not simple,’ Allie said sharply. ‘Because I don’t understand it at all.’

  ‘Yes you do. Think it through, Allie.’ Lucinda’s response was low and dangerous. ‘After all these months, don’t you know what you’re part of? In your heart, don’t you already know?’

  The phone felt hot in Allie’s hands as her mind flipped through the last few months – the things she’d been told. Bits of information like puzzle pieces sliding into place.

  Night School is part of a much larger organisation… Cimmeria is more powerful than you know… The Board of Night School is also the Board of the Organisation… The board controls everything… The prime minister… Several ministers are coming to the ball… Lucinda is in charge of the board… The government… Lucinda…

  How can you not know?

  ‘Night School controls the government.’ Allie’s words came out in a whisper, but as soon as she said them she was certain she was right.

  ‘Not Night School,’ Lucinda corrected her. ‘But the organisation.’

  For a long moment Allie sat still, trying to absorb all this information. It was too much to grasp. Too horrible to accept.

  ‘I don’t…’ she said. ‘I mean… how?’

  Lucinda’s reply was brisk. ‘The important thing is that it does. And if Nathaniel defeats me, all that power will be his. He will be unstoppable.’

  Imagining a world in which Nathaniel ran everything, Allie bit her lip so hard it bled – the coppery taste was bitter on her tongue.

  ‘You can’t let that happen.’

  This was what Lucinda was waiting for. She pounced. ‘I want to stop him. But I can’t do it without you. So… will you stay and fight with me?’

  There was no doubt in Allie’s mind any more. It was so much worse than she’d thought – so much more dangerous and frightening. She didn’t have a choice… did she?

  ‘Yes,’ she said tiredly. ‘I’ll stay.’

  ‘Good.’ Lucinda sounded grimly pleased. ‘But now that you know what’s at stake I expect you to be part of this. You’re in danger no matter where you are – even at Cimmeria. We don’t know who the spy is among us so you must be constantly alert.’

  ‘I will be,’ Allie said numbly.

  Lucinda continued, ‘Do everything Isabelle asks without question; I trust her completely and you should do the same.’

  Allie’s eyes were drawn to where the headmistress sat watching her, a pen forgotten in her hand. Perhaps she could hear Lucinda’s voice through the phone; her gaze was sharp and knowing.

  ‘OK.’

  ‘It won’t be easy,’ Lucinda warned her. ‘You have a great deal of atoning to do for last night’s incident. Isabelle will punish you and it won’t be pleasant – she is very angry with you. I expect you to do every piece of menial, exhausting, pointless labour she hands you without complaint. Also, there must be no more running away – I can’t protect you if I don’t know where you are. In fact, there can be no more breaking of The Rules whatsoever – those Rules will keep you alive. And finally, even with all this happening, you are still in school so you must catch up on your coursework and excel in your lessons. Are we agreed?’

  Her mind reeling from this litany of demands, Allie nodded mutely
before realising her grandmother couldn’t see her.

  ‘Yes,’ she said finally. ‘Agreed.’

  But Lucinda wasn’t finished. ‘Good. Understand this, Allie: violate any part of our agreement and our deal is off. I don’t want to but I will cut you loose if I have to. And you do not want to be out there on your own, I promise you.

  ‘But give me everything I’ve asked for and, I swear to you, I will give you your revenge.’

  By the time Allie left Isabelle’s office, the light had begun to fade from the sky.

  She felt exposed, walking through the halls in her street clothes, surrounded by the students in their matching dark blue blazers with the white Cimmeria crest over their hearts. Even with her head down, she could sense curious eyes studying her, hear quiet voices whispering, giggling. But when she glanced up no one met her gaze. She was invisible.

  Hurrying her pace, she sped up the stairs to the girls’ dormitory wing and then down the quiet narrow hall to her bedroom. Once inside she leaned back against the door – relishing the privacy. But when she turned on the lights, she stopped in her tracks.

  Her room was spotless.

  The dirty clothes had disappeared. Papers had been filed. Books were lined up on well-dusted shelves. The wooden floors had been swept and mopped; the bed covered in a crisp white duvet, a blue blanket folded neatly over the footboard.

  This was a message from Isabelle and Allie heard it, loud and clear: no more special favours.

  In the mirror by the door, she caught a glimpse of her wild hair and smeared makeup. She already knew she reeked of cider and sweat.

  She didn’t belong in this room looking like that.

  Stripping off her grubby jeans and jumper, Allie wrapped herself in a warm dressing gown, grabbed a fluffy white towel and headed for the door.

  At the last second, though, she turned back and picked the clothes up from the floor, dropping them in the laundry basket in the corner.

  A deal was a deal.

  ‘Satisfied?’ she asked the empty room.

  As she made her way down the hall she tried to clear her head of the memory of Mark’s expression as she told him she’d decided to stay at Cimmeria. Isabelle had given them a few minutes alone before he was put on a train back to London.

  ‘You must be joking.’ Disbelief had filled his eyes. ‘I’ve just been held prisoner. For hours. You’re covered in scars and your teachers are fascists, but suddenly everything’s fine?’

  Allie hadn’t known what to say. How could she explain to an outsider everything she now knew?

  ‘Look,’ she said, ‘there’s a lot you don’t know —’

  He’d cut her off with an impatient gesture. ‘Come on, Allie. I’ve seen your school – it’s like a bleedin’ castle. And I’ve heard how you talk – you were always a little posh but now you sound like the bloody Queen.’

  Stung, Allie felt the blood rush to her face. ‘That’s not fair, Mark. I’m still the same person.’

  ‘No you’re not.’ With his hands resting on his narrow hips, he studied her as if he was seeing her for the first time. ‘Maybe you don’t know it but it’s obvious to me. You’re not one of us any more. You’re one of them.’

  Remembering how he’d looked at her then, Allie shivered and pulled the robe more tightly around her.

  With a sigh, she pushed open the door to the girls’ bathroom. It was blessedly empty at this hour. In a pure white shower cubicle, she turned the hot water up until the temperature teetered on the brink of painful and let it flood over her, washing away the grime of the last twenty-four hours.

  She ran the soap across her skin, noticing the changes the car accident had made to her body – the scars were slick bumps beneath her fingertips.

  Each one was a reminder of what she still had to do.

  Something Dr Cartwright had said to her in one of their meetings nagged at her. ‘It is OK,’ he’d said, ‘for you to be alive even if Jo isn’t.’

  She hadn’t believed him at the time.

  But maybe he was right, she thought now. Because I have to be alive to kill Gabe.

  Back in her bedroom, she wrestled a comb through her tangled hair and dabbed on foundation. But even when she’d done it, dark shadows still underlined her grey eyes; her skin looked sallow.

  Flinging open the wardrobe, she surveyed the row of dark blue options in front of her. The choice of what to wear at Cimmeria was rarely complicated. Dark tights and a short pleated skirt went on first. Then a crisp, white, button-down blouse topped by a blue blazer. A pair of sensible, school-issued shoes and she was fully disguised as a Cimmeria student.

  She glanced at her watch – it was nearly dinner-time.

  Now, she thought with grim determination, let the atoning begin.

  As she hurried down the stairs, the low roar of conversation and laughter emanating from the crowded dining hall grew gradually louder. The happy buzz felt alien and for a long moment she stood outside, unable to make herself go in. She’d been skipping dinners for weeks.

  But in her office today Isabelle had made it clear that was no longer an option. She had to be in the dining room on time for every meal from now on, as The Rules required.

  That was just one of many things Allie had agreed to do. Because once she’d agreed to stay, Isabelle had read her the riot act.

  Allie would attend all classes and make up for all the work she’d missed so far this term. She would maintain perfect grades.

  And she’d rejoin Night School.

  The last requirement was the one that frightened her – the one that twisted her stomach into knots.

  She knew it would be irrational to refuse – she had to be in Night School to train, to learn, to find out the truth about what was happening. It was the heart of Cimmeria, and she had to be there. But the idea of doing that again – of slipping into that world – scared the hell out of her.

  But what was the point of telling Isabelle that? She knew it already. And she didn’t care.

  When she hadn’t agreed immediately, Isabelle had fixed her with a cold gaze.

  ‘Participation in Night School is a requirement for your continued attendance at Cimmeria. So you need to make up your mind now, Allie. Do you want to stay at Cimmeria Academy? Or not?’

  Defeated, Allie had nodded her acquiescence. She did want to stay. She wanted her revenge. She would do anything for it.

  And if she could rejoin Night School, then she could walk through that door now, into the dining hall. And eat supper.

  Setting her jaw, she marched resolutely through the door just as Zelazny began to shut it. Out of the corner of her eye she saw him shoot her a strange look but she didn’t slow down until she reached an empty seat at her old table and slid into it.

  At the table, all conversation stopped.

  Cringing at the silence, Allie forced herself to look around the table; here were all the people she’d been avoiding or ignoring for weeks – all the people she loved.

  Isabelle had raked her over the coals for how she’d treated them. Looking at them now, her words rang in Allie’s ears.

  ‘I know you’ve been through a lot over the last few months, but your reaction to Jo’s death was to strike out at the people who love you most,’ she’d said. ‘You hurt those people very badly. You never seemed to realise this fact: they were grieving, too. You’ve been cold to Rachel for weeks, so she’s gone through this painful time alone. And you’ve virtually ignored Zoe. She thinks of you as a big sister. She needed you but you were too self-absorbed to be there for her.’

  Across the table from her, Carter sat next to Jules. Each time she saw them together, a tiny shard of ice seemed to lodge deeper in her chest, but Carter had always been her friend and she didn’t want to lose him.

  If that meant being nice to Jules then… fine.

  Next to them, Zoe looked very small as she scanned the faces around her with quick, puzzled eyes. Rachel kept her gaze lowered, as if she couldn’t bear to see what had be
come of Allie. Next to her, Lucas gripped her hand tightly.

  She got the feeling they were all waiting for something to happen. Maybe they expected her to act crazy. Run away. Shout at them.

  She cleared her throat. ‘Look, everyone. I want to say something. I know I’ve been messed up and I want to tell you all I’m sorry. I think I needed time to go… I don’t know… a little crazy for a while. And I know you all know I ran away yesterday but I want you to know that I wasn’t running away from you…’ She paused. Was that the truth? She didn’t know any more. ‘But now I’m trying to get myself together. I wasn’t really trying…’ Flitting around the table, her gaze rested for a moment on Carter’s face. His dark eyes avoided hers. ‘I know I’ve been selfish and scary and I just hope’ – she looked at Rachel helplessly – ‘that you can forgive me. And help me… get better.’