“I’ll be careful.”
“You don’t know how to be careful.”
He smiles, then he kisses me on the cheek and says some words, and even though they are in French I know what they mean, and I grab him to me.
He says, “How many days to your Giving?”
“Four. You know that.”
“I won’t miss it.”
And then he’s climbing over the wall and is gone.
I wait and wait before I dare set off. I hear something that might be another shot or maybe a car backfiring but it’s distant. I know it isn’t a car really. And then I hear police sirens. The Hunters won’t like that. They’re distant too, but there are lots of them.
I’ve got to head to the apartment.
Back to Mercury
I don’t know where I am. I can’t even find the lake. I keep seeing Rose’s body and feeling the Hunter’s neck and her warm blood, and it’s all wrong and shouldn’t have happened. The plan was hardly a plan; it was lunacy. And I should have reached the apartment ages ago.
I’m on my knees on the wet cobbles again. My legs keep giving way.
I rest with my forehead on the wet stone and try to heal, but my healing is hardly working and there’s no buzz. It’s like it’s used up.
It’s light now but still early. Quiet. No people. The rain has stopped.
I get up. I need sugar. Food and drink are my first priority, then I’ll heal better and think better, then I can find the apartment and Gabriel.
On the street a man is rolling up the security blinds on his small tobacconist’s shop. He goes in and I follow close behind and move in on him until he is pressed up against the wall. I don’t know what to say in French so say it in English and put my hand over his mouth so he can’t make a noise. He looks into my eyes and I know he understands. I can’t mess around with tying him up. Celia told me the real thing wasn’t like training. She taught me to control my breathing. Focus on what I have to do. Do it properly. I knock him out. I’ve done it properly.
I stand by the fridge and drink an energy drink. Then another. They help. I can heal better already.
I grab the man’s small battered backpack and fill it with drinks and sugary sweets.
Now I have to find the apartment. I head downhill, toward the lake. When I find that, I can find the apartment. My legs feel stronger.
At last I find the corner of our road. The apartment block is across from me. There’s no one around but something feels wrong.
Parked on my side of the road is a blue car and also a rusty red one that I’ve seen before. On the left, up from the entrance to the apartment, is a van. I think I’ve seen that van before but where? It’s not a Hunter van . . . so why am I hesitating? There isn’t anything unusual. If I run I’ll be inside the apartment in a minute and at Mercury’s in two. But something seems different.
I stand in a doorway, well back. The rain has started again. There’s the sound of distant traffic.
I wait.
Nothing happens. Nothing. And it’s killing me. Gabriel’s not here and Rose is dead and that girl’s neck was so thin. And I can’t think that they’ve caught Gabriel and what they’d do to him. I can’t think about that.
More rain.
A car driving down the street.
Someone comes out of one of the apartments, puts her umbrella up, and, heels clacking, walks quickly away.
I’m sweaty. It’s warm and the rain is still falling. There’s the sound of a car in the street behind me. And then I see it . . . a movement, a shadow in the doorway down from our apartment entrance.
All is back as it was before except now I know what’s wrong. I know what the shadow is. I can see that it is a Hunter, gun raised, motionless again. Her mobile phone is buzzing, faint but there. That is what I could sense.
There’s nothing I can do except hope. Maybe they followed Gabriel here and he had no option but to go through the cut with Hunters close behind. They wouldn’t have been able to work out how to get through unless they saw exactly where it was, and even if they did get through the cut Mercury would pick them off while they were stuck on the roof. That would mean that Gabriel is safe at the cottage and couldn’t risk coming back to warn me.
But he said he’d lead them away.
How else could they know to come here?
If they’ve captured him and tortured him . . . how quickly would he tell them about the apartment?
A car swings into the street from the far end. A black jeep, the one I saw at the Hunters’ house. Clay parks the jeep in the middle of the road and gets out. He doesn’t look pleased. He goes to the hidden Hunter and then to our apartment building and in. The Hunter gets into Clay’s jeep and reverses it fast up the street and away. A minute later she is running back to her position. The road is quiet again.
I have to leave.
I’m covered in blood; fains will stop me if they see me.
I need to find somewhere to rest and get clean. I set off, although I don’t know where to.
Twenty minutes later I spot her. She’s at the end of an alley, partly hidden by a small van, but I can tell it’s her straight away. And I know I should walk on by, but there’s Rose and Gabriel and a whole bunch of other stuff that stops me from doing the sensible thing. I don’t know where her partner is but I’m not going to hang around for long.
I heal before I approach her, sneak up as quiet as can be, and draw the Fairborn out of its sheath.
And, in that instant, things change.
The Fairborn is almost alive in my hand. It’s part of me, but I’m part of it too.
I reach the Hunter and pull her round, the Fairborn at her throat.
“Looking for someone?” I ask.
She flinches. Even now she hates my touching her, but she gets over the surprise in less than a second and starts transforming into a huge man. But I’m her little half-brother and I’m ready for her tricks, and so is the Fairborn. We stab Jessica’s shoulder and slam her half-morphed body into the wall. We stab her other shoulder and she squeals. If her partner is nearby, she’ll be here in less than a minute.
Jessica is fully changed into a man but her arms are useless and I have the strength and the Fairborn to hold her back against the wall.
Jessica transforms quickly again, into Arran.
Arran’s voice pleads with me, “Please don’t hurt me, Nathan. I know you don’t want to hurt me.”
“Shut up.”
“I know you’re a good person. I’ve always known that. Please. Don’t hurt me.”
And I know I should run. But seeing Arran is so amazing. I just want to look at him. But it’s not Arran; it’s Jessica, and she’s an evil witch. I’m holding the point of the knife to Arran’s eye. And the Fairborn wants to cut it out.
“Nathan, please. You’re a good person.”
And I know it would be a good plan to cut out her eye. She’d never be able to disguise that. But I can’t do it. I don’t want to. Not to Arran, even though I know it’s not Arran and I’m telling myself it’s Jessica but I don’t even want to do it to her . . . but the Fairborn wants to cut . . .
I’m shaking again, trying to get the knife in the sheath. And Jessica pushes me back, weakly but it’s enough, and I raise the Fairborn and then it slashes down across her face.
I’ve broken into a small house in the suburbs. There’s no alarm and no one around. I think they’ve gone to work. I shower. My body keeps shaking, shivering.
My gunshot wound is a neat round scar but if I touch anywhere near it I feel like I might faint. I’m not even tempted to try to get the bullet out. Besides, the energy drinks and sweets seem to be working well enough.