Amber was right. Someone was filling their heads with dangerous rubbish and the sooner we found them, the better.
I tossed the book aside and followed Amber downstairs. She was waiting, leaning against the concrete.
"Amber?"
She lifted her chin slightly, indicating that she had heard me.
"Why are you always such a hard-arse? You could be really nice if you wanted to be."
The faintest of smiles touched her lips, and she shook her head.
Alex wasn't sure how long she'd been there. She'd done what she'd always done at the worst moments, the really bad times. She'd run to Kayleigh's house. Now she was standing across the road, waiting for something to happen.
It was getting late. Kayleigh's dad was putting on the lights and drawing the curtains, but still Alex hesitated.
Kayleigh's mum had always been great. She never asked too many questions about Alex turning up at odd hours and with no warning. She just let her in and left her to sort it out with Kayleigh. She'd even wait for a bit before calling Alex's mum and letting her know she was safe.
This was different. Alex wasn't safe. She was dead.
She watched Kayleigh moving around her bedroom upstairs, putting things away, tidying things up. Alex smiled. Kayleigh had always been tidier and more organised. Why can't you be more like her, Mum had demanded. Why can't you be tidy like Kayleigh?
Even from the road she could see the pop star posters on the wall, the trinkets and keepsakes arranged along the window sill. Alex tried to imagine herself with keepsakes, with a family, with a bedroom and a routine. Perhaps that was the answer. She could be Kayleigh's long-lost sister, or her cousin, come back from abroad. She could even look like Kayleigh, it wasn't that hard. Or she could be adopted, a late decision, not wanting Kayleigh to grow up an only child.
Except none of it rang true. She could imagine herself, using her new name, telling stories about places she'd never been. She could be someone else, a nice girl, Kayleigh's second cousin, except for the lies.
Blackbird had warned her it would get harder. She'd told her that the more she used her power, the harder it would be to lie. Alex had sniffed and ignored her, but now she could feel it — the tongue-twisted, wrong-fisted, numbness of saying something that wasn't true. If Blackbird were here, she'd be smug.
The phone rang inside the house and she heard Kayleigh's dad answer it. There was a pause, then he appeared outlined against the light from the front door. Looking up and down the road. Was Mum on the phone, asking vague questions? Just some light query, nothing that would make it sound like she was looking for Alex. Had he seen so-and-so? Was there anyone wandering around outside?
But no one saw Alex if she didn't want to be seen, not since Porton Down. They would pump stuff through the air ducts that made your stomach cramp and your joints ache, just to stop you using glamour, but not any more. Now she was free.
He went back inside. No sign of anyone. Who were you looking for? What would her mum say? Would she blurt it out? No, she would draw a line under it all and pretend it never happened. We can't be an embarrassment in front of the neighbours, can we?
She looked up again at the girl in the window. Poor Kayleigh. No one else would befriend her, no one else had the same ideas, the same loves and hates, crushes and crashes. As far as Kayleigh knew, Alex was dead, killed in a nasty accident. She'd been there when it happened, seen for herself. She'd had to cope with losing her friend.
And that was the trouble. Alex was still lost.
The girl who was Kayleigh's friend died in the changing rooms, drowned in sewage. The girl she was now had seen and done things that Kayleigh couldn't even imagine, let alone understand. How could she tell Kayleigh about being held under water, about being drugged, beaten and starved. How could she explain that she was poisoned, stripped and left naked for all to see? Nothing in Kayleigh's world came close. Kayleigh could never feel the exhilaration of surfing down the Ways, or understand the intricacies of glamour. She was and always would be the way she was — kind, noble, straight-forward Kayleigh.
The hole in Kayleigh's life was the same shape it had always been, but Alex no longer fitted it. The Alex she'd been had wanted to be blonde and bubbly, and fun to be with. That Alex had been consumed, eaten away, leaving someone else in her place.
Alex looked down. Around her arms, strange vines and coloured leaves emerged in patterns on her flesh, winding down to emerge in coiled tangles around her wrists. There strange buds emerged, dark and shiny. They were a lot cooler than butterflies. She shook her head and her hair was long and wavy where it had been softly curled. It was tinted the deepest black, almost blue. She lifted her chin and felt her eyelashes darkened, her lips stained with raspberry tint. It would do for now.
Turning away, she shoved the silver ring on her finger, the last vestige of a life she couldn't have. She would keep it to remind her that there was no going back — only onwards. Walking away from Kayleigh's house, she headed back towards the tube station. She would have to find somewhere safe to stay, and that would be easier in town.
As she walked away, the faint sound of a phone ringing began again.
NINE
Back at the courts we were met by Garvin.
"No luck?"
"They were prepared," said Amber, "maybe even organised."
"That's a new development," Garvin commented. "Did you track them?"
"No point. They were settled in, but they knew we'd found them. We could go back when it's quiet, see if they return for what's left, but they've stolen what they had. My guess is they'll just steal some more. It's easier and safer than risking an ambush."
"So we wait," said Garvin.
"They'll pop up again. Their kind can't keep their heads down for long."
"Let's hope they don't pop up in a way that's public and violent."
It occurred to me that Garvin was more concerned about the publicity than the violence. He turned to me.
"Blackbird asked if you'd go and see her when you got back. I think she has another lesson planned."
"Where is she?"
"She was heading out to the courtyard, but she might be back inside by now."
"I'll go and find her."
Amber accompanied me as far as the stairs up to our rooms.
"Listen, thanks for not telling Garvin I messed up back there," I said to her.
"If I had told him, what good would it have done? You need to stop worrying about screwing up and focus on the job in hand. Garvin's the least of your worries. He's not going to crack your skull open with an iron bar."
"Even so, you could have told him and you didn't. I'm grateful."
"Don't get the idea that I'm on your side, Dogstar. I'm on my side. Always."
"I'll try and remember that."
"Go to your lesson. Seems like you need it."
I watched her retreating back as she walked away. Was she going soft on me? It was hard to imagine — Amber was an ice-cold exterior wrapped around an ice cold interior. Nothing touched her.
It left me wondering why she'd built such a wall around herself.
I found Blackbird upstairs sat on our bed. I glanced towards the darkened side-room where the door was ajar so that she could keep an ear out for our son. All was quiet, which I took as a good sign.
"Garvin said you were looking for me?" I said.
"Did he?" Her answer was curt. She'd been in a funny mood earlier and my absence didn't seem to have improved it.
I tried again. "Did you want me for something?"
"How was your trip? Did you find what you were looking for?" The question was lightly framed, and felt as if it should hold some hidden meaning, but I couldn't fathom it.
"No. I messed it up, well sort of. We were intercepted by some hoodies who wanted to mug us. Amber dealt with them."