‘The threat’s not gone,’ said Saul, using his gift to sense the predators after us.
Wil nodded. ‘I sense more than one person looking for you, Sky.’
I turned to Zed. ‘Did you get al that too?’
‘Uh-huh. I also got that the two in the warehouse were the two who shot at us in the woods that day.
O’Hal oran was a savant, extraordinarily good at shielding. I wondered if that was why I could feel a layer in your mind—something alien. Did you see that, Uriel?’
Uriel touched my knee comfortingly. ‘Yes, and I think I know what it is even if I don’t know how it got there. Sky, your parents are artists, aren’t they?’
I nodded.
‘You know what sometimes happens to Old Masters? Someone takes them and paints over the surface and you have to strip off a layer to get back to the original? Wel , someone has done something similar to your memories.’
That felt right. ‘So what’s the original and what’s the forgery?’
‘That’s where we need to take it back to the base.’
‘Wil everyone see?’ It was bad enough bringing out my past for my own eyes; I didn’t want an audience for it.
‘No, just Zed, me, and you,’ Uriel said, his colours pulsing with the gentle pink of compassion. ‘And we won’t tel anyone unless you want us to.’
I real y didn’t want to do this but knew I had to.
‘Don’t be frightened,’ whispered Zed. ‘I’l be there with you.’
‘OK. OK. So what do I do?’
Uriel smiled reassuringly. ‘Just relax and let me in.’
It started out fine. I felt him examining my memories—the ones where I met my adoptive parents and how music helped heal me. I hadn’t buried those. It was when he pushed on the door leading back that I felt fear.
Don’t fight, Zed said. He’s not going to hurt you.
But it wasn’t Uriel I was scared of: it was what lay beyond the door.
Nothing we see there will make us feel anydifferent about you, he assured me.
I could feel waves of calm emotion coming from the other members of the Benedict family; Xav was doing something to reduce my racing pulse.
I took a deep breath. OK.
Uriel pushed the block aside and images began to stream through like a crowd rushing the turnstiles.
A cold night. Seething anger in a car.
‘I’ve had as much as I can take of this kid. She ruins everything!’ A man beating the steering wheel while a hol ow-cheeked woman fixed her make-up in the mirror. She looked a bit like me but her skin was real y bad, as if she’d not eaten properly for months.
The layers of foundation didn’t hide the blemishes.
‘What can I do? I’m the only family she has.’ The woman made kissy noises as she patched up her blood-red lipstick.
A door opened further back in time. Other lips, bubblegum pink, kissing my cheek. My mummy had been Red Lips’s sister. She smelt of light perfume and had a silvery laugh. Her long fair hair brushed my tummy when she leant over to tickle me. I giggled.
The doorbel rang.
‘Stay here, poppet.’ She put up the side of the travel cot.
A rumbling voice in the corridor. Daddy. We didn’t want him to find us, did we, Mummy? Why was he here? I clutched my lop-eared rabbit tight, listening to them in the hal .
‘But you’re not my soulfinder, Ian—we both know that. Miguel is. I’m going to him and you can’t stop me!’ Mummy’s voice was ugly. She was real y cross, but she was also scared. I felt scared.
‘What about the child? What about me? You can’t leave England with her!’
‘You never wanted her before—you’re just jealous!’
‘That’s not true. I’m not letting you do this.’
‘I have to be with him. You of al people should understand.’
‘Go then. But I’l take my daughter with me.’
They were getting nearer. I whimpered. The room was red with anger and the brash gold of love. A shadowy man plucked me from my bed and hugged me to his chest. The mouse nightlight exploded—
bulb fragments flying.
‘Mouse!’ I screamed.
Mummy was shaking with anger. ‘You lost Di too young—lost your soulfinder—and I’m real y, real y sorry, Ian. But against al the odds, I found mine after I’d given up and I have to go to him. Now just put her down!’
Daddy squeezed me tighter. He was shaking.
‘Why should I be the one left with nothing, Franny? I won’t stand for it.’ As she moved to take me back, he threw his hand towards her and my books leapt off the shelf, bombarding her.
The carpet began to smoke under his feet. I sobbed.
‘Stop it, Franny. You’l set the whole bloody house on fire!’
‘You’re not taking her from me!’ Mummy’s temper flared and my bed went up in flames. ‘I won’t leave my baby behind.’ She reached out, tugging at my sleep suit.
The burning bed spun in the air and slammed into her, throwing her into a wal .
‘Mummy!’ I screwed my eyes shut.
I never saw them again.
Another image. Auntie Red Lips had col ected me from the hospital. I was the only one to have survived the fire—miraculously floated out of the house by unseen forces and found curled up on the dew-damp grass. Now we lived in a flat. I was stil cold, my dress filthy. I was tiny—my head not even reaching the door handles. There was loud music in the main room; I’d been told to keep out of the way so was hiding in the hal way.
‘Don’t look at me like that!’ It was the driver man again; he had a friend with him this time. He kicked out when I didn’t move fast enough. I scurried back, pressing myself against the wal , trying to pretend I wasn’t there. I watched as he passed the other man something and got money in exchange.
‘He cheated you,’ I whispered.
The second man stopped and knelt beside me.
His breath was horrible, like fried onions. ‘What you say, little chicky?’ He seemed to find me funny.
‘He lied. He’s pleased he tricked you.’ I rocked to and fro, knowing I was going to be punished but at least He would be too.
‘Hey,’ He said, smile insincere. ‘You’re listening to my girlfriend’s little brat? What she know about anything?’
The onion man took the package out of his pocket and pressed it between thumb and finger, no longer smiling. ‘This pure?’
‘One hundred per cent. I give you my word.’
‘He’s lying,’ I said. The Man’s colours were sickly yel ow.
Mr Onion held it out. ‘Thanks, chicky. I want my money back. Your word isn’t worth fifty quid.’
The man handed it back, swearing his innocence.
Next came pain.
Later, I heard Him tel ing the doctor how I’d fal en down the stairs and broken my arm. I was clumsy. A lie. He’d got angry with me.
Then we were back in the car. Another day. On the move again before anyone got too interested in us.
Auntie Red Lips was feeling jittery. She’d been moaning, said He was about to ditch her because of me. She didn’t like me either. I saw too much, she said. Like a witch. Like her stupid, dead half-sister.
‘We could give her to the social services in Bristol, say we can’t cope.’ Auntie glared at me.
‘First rule—never let the authorities even know we exist. We’re not going back to Bristol—we’ve moved on.’ He cut up another car undertaking on the motorway.
‘Since when, Phil?’
‘Since the police busted the Cricketer’s Arms.’
I gazed out of the window at the blue sign—I saw it had a little symbol of a plane at the top. The road was going somewhere, taking off on a jumbo jet. I wished I could. I started to sing. Leaving on a jet plane …
‘That’s it!’ The man indicated, taking us off the road and into a service station. ‘We’re dumping the freak here.’
‘What!’ The woman glanced across at him in bewilderment.