– Chapter 16
The Last Witch: Volume Three
We reach the grate and Dad makes light work of the lock before we slip inside, unseen and unheard.
âYouâre like Houdini. Is there any lock you canât pick?â
âNot as of yet, no. Câmon. We need to keep moving,â he says quietly, pulling out a small and rather dim pocket light to help guide our way. âIf you hear a rumbling noise, turn and run back to the grate.â
âRumbling?â
âYeah. This tunnel is ancient and not well maintained at all. No one seems to realise itâs here so itâs the perfect way into town. You hear a rumbling? You leg it. Unless you fancy being buried alive.â
âAwesome.â
He grips my elbow and leads me on through the dark tunnel. Itâs slightly uphill and thereâs a small trickle of water running beneath our feet. The further in we go, the less fresh air there seems to be and soon, my throat becomes scratchy and my lungs feel suffocated. The water gets a little deeper and the unmistakable sound of rats reaches my ears.
âYou alright, Buttons?â he asks.
âOddly, yeah. This kinda feels familiar,â I admit, thinking of my time in the cellar at Harryâs house with a rodent I named Roger to keep me company.
âYou know what? Iâm not even gonna ask,â he grunts, stumbling on some loose ground. I catch him before he falls into the grimy water and we carry on.
As we turn a corner, we both sigh with relief as the slightest breath of fresh air brushes our skin.
âWeâre almost there,â he whispers, pointing up ahead.
He keeps me placed directly behind him at all times, making sure that Iâm close enough for him to touch and positioned just right in case weâre ambushed up ahead. The water grows deeper and deeper until it reaches our waist. It takes all my inner strength not to think about what Iâm standing in.
The air grows colder and with the chill comes a putrid stench.
âGod, what is that smell?â I hiss, covering my nose and mouth with my hand.
âIâm not sure,â he replies, his voice strained as he tries not to inhale too much of the foul odour.
A few moments pass until we reach another grate.
âHere.â He hands me the light and reaches his hands through the bars, working the padlock with his knife. He slowly unlocks it, opening the gate barely wide enough for us to slide through before closing it back up again. The body of water opens up and the coarse walls become brick which curves in an arch overhead. I get a glimpse of moonlight up ahead and I slump in relief that soon, Iâll be out of this filth.
The smell is getting more and more unbearable the closer to the exit we get. My stomach flips and I start gagging. Dad spins to me and presses his finger to his lips.
All I can do is widen my eyes in frustration and hold out my hands.
What the hell am I supposed to do? Vomiting is kind of an involuntary action. But he simply glares at me and taps his finger to his mouth, driving the point home that I need to shut the hell up.
Slowly, we wade through the water. I give him a tap when I spot a path to our left, elevated above the water. He nods and we head over, silently pulling ourselves out of the water and pressing our backs to the curved brick wall.
The smell is still there. I clamp my nose shut and swallow the disgusted groan that I canât help but make. Even Dadâs struggling to keep his composure. He looks away as if changing the direction heâs facing will help fight the putrid smell. We edge out further and further until he peers around the corner of the tunnelâs opening. He turns slowly and looks at me. His eyes are wide as he leans in close to my ear.
âWhen we leave the tunnel, donât look up,â he says, almost pleadingly. âKeep your eyes down and just follow my lead.â
His voice is so low, itâs barely a breath.
âWhatâs out there?â I dare ask. âWhatâs causing this stink?â
He just shakes his head and gestures to his eyes before pointing to the ground.
He really doesnât want me to see whatever is out beyond this tunnel. And when I attempt to carry on, he refuses to let me pass.
âDonât. Look. Up.â
âOkay. Okay, I wonât.â
His eyes dance back and forth as he decides on his next move. But we only have one move. Forwards. We canât go back. Thereâs nothing behind us. Everything is out through that tunnel and if there is someone in this town who can help us find the others, then thatâs precisely where Iâm going.
He turns and we make our way to the exit. The smell only gets worse and now we can hear a loud buzzing sound. Dad takes my hand as we emerge from the tunnel, just as the moon looms from behind the clouds. Ahead, the shadows of dozens of people standing stock still are cast on the water. No. Theyâre not stock still. Theyâre swaying. I stop and look at the ghastly silhouettes, realising what the smell was in that instant. Thereâs an odd tearing sound before something falls from above and lands at my feet.
I slam my hand over my mouth as I take in the sight of a decaying arm. On instinct, I look upwards.
Lining the bridge above us, all the way across, are gallows. There must be thirty bodies hanging by the neck all in various stages of decay. Some look barely dead and others are partial skeletons held together by mummified flesh.
Men, woman⦠children.
Their ropes creak when the wind picks up and their swaying is almost hypnotic.
âOh my god,â I gasp, my body trembling.
âI told you not to look!â he complains, guiding my face back to his. âPlease! You must try to avoid emotional upsets. Youâre too fragile. The Break could reclaim you and I canât lose you again!â
âWhy⦠Why would they-â
âA warning. Itâs a warning for us. For you. The vampire creatures and for anyone different.â
âAre they all Descendants?â As I try to look back at the death blowing in the breeze, he tightens his grip on my face.
âMaybe. Or vamps. Or human. Or someone that walked with a limp. Who the hell knows. Now please, Buttons, we have to keep moving!â
All I can do is nod, grip his hand tighter and let him lead me on past the limbs and clothing that have fallen from those above. A stench of death follows us. One I know will follow me till the day I die.
Everything around me falls away and I have no choice but to leave my safety in his hands, because all I can think is, what if one of these lunatics that strung these people up has my baby?
The not knowing is driving me crazy. But I fear that the knowing may turn me dark once more.
âââ
We weave through gardens and down alleyways. As cars speed past us full of people who yell and whoop while waving bats and axes, we duck down behind bins or throw ourselves over walls. Hours pass with us dodging and ducking psychos until we end up with a street corner camera pointed straight at us. Dad and I both look at each other before we hurl ourselves into someoneâs front garden. As I lay beside him in a bed of begonias with the smell of cat shit far too close for comfort, I clench my fists and scream internally.
âWe donât have time for this!â I whisper furiously, my fingernails digging into my skin. Iâm fighting the urge to stand up and tear this town apart piece by piece to find the lead hidden somewhere in this hell hole. âWeâve spent hours running and avoiding other people only for that camera to see us. This is ridiculous! Every second weâre not with the others is time not knowing where the hell Iâve been the past year and whatâs happened to my child!â The sound of the swaying bodies above the bridge echo in my ears and grotesque images of what could possibly have befallen the only child of the most hated woman on earth fill my mind. âWhere is the lead, Jensen?â
âIâll get us to them, but we have to do it right.â
âCan you just tell me where they are? Itâs like weâve been running around in circles.â
He remains silent, looking at the stars. Then it hits me.
âYou donât know, do you?!â
âItâs not like they have a sign outside their house-â
âOh my god!â My hide my face to stifle my frustrated screams and I kick out my legs instead of jumping on his head.
After several minutes of my tantrum-throwing, I lower my hands and take a deep breath.
âYou done?â he asks, looking at me with a raised eyebrow. âOr do you want a few more minutes to behave like a three-year-old?â
âJust! Urgh⦠what do we do now? Where do we go? How do we find them?â
âWe donât find the lead, okay?â He rests his hand on mine. âThey find us.â
âWhat does that mean?â
âIt means, sweetheart-â We hear the sound of revving engines and hooliganism howling as several cars turn down the road. âThat the lead â will find â us.â His fingers entwine in mine and our knuckles grind together.
âYou canât be serious. Theyâre in one of those fucking masks?â
âThey have to blend in somehow.â
âAnd how do we tell the difference between who wants to kill us and who wants to help us?!â
âWell. If they try to kill us, then I think itâs safe to assume that theyâre not there to help us.â He struggles to stifle his smirk in response to the extreme stink eye Iâm giving him. âTheyâll see who we are and make themselves known. Until then, just act as if theyâre trying to kill you. Weâll be-â
Tyres screech to a stop and doors fly open.
âNo need to hide,â a female voice calls out. âWe only wanna talk to ya!â They walk around for a few seconds, trying to locate us. Then she calls out again. âItâs a beautiful night. Letâs spend it getting to know each other!â
âTime to run, Buttons,â he whispers.
âRun? Run where?â
âJUST RUN!â he bellows, dragging me up to my feet.
We leap over the wall of the garden and sprint down the path. Behind us, six others are already giving chase. Their weapons are raised and their Hunter masks cover their faces.
Vigilantes.
They must be. Theyâre in fancy dress! Oneâs in a harlequin tutu dress with multicoloured diamond tights. Another is dressed like a demented school girl. And a man is shirtless with red and white striped trousers, reminiscent of a circus performer.
Thatâs of some relief I suppose. They could be real Hunters. Then we really would be fucked!
Some have long hair and delicate frames. Others are built like tanks. And all of them look insane. A good punch from the shirtless pirate would probably knock out most of my teeth or break my neck.
We turn the corner and come out on the high street, lined with shops that are closed or boarded up. Metal shutters have been prised open at the corners and looters have left the shelves bare. Graffiti marks are on almost every wall. Puddles of puke are dotted here and there and the overwhelming stench of piss and rotting garbage forces its way down my throat.
Which, considering Iâm running and panting, is far from pleasant.
Down some alleyways, small groups of homeless souls gather around fires as they attempt to keep warm. They sink into the shadows as we run past them, hoping not to distract the lunatics chasing us. Dad suddenly diverts left, darting down a road lined with bungalows. Still holding my hand in his, he makes for a thin pathway concealed behind an overgrown bush.
Further and further we go until I see no more houses. The fences sealing in gardens turn to overgrown blackberry bushes that catch our clothes and claw at our skin. The vigilantes are still giving chase, their excited whooping turning more frustrated as they get tangled in the thorns. Dad and I emerge from the bushes into a large open space. A park, by the looks of it. An old swing set lies empty in the centre of the tall grass. Beside that is a roundabout with a stuffed effigy of a witch positioned on a stake in the very middle. Her hair is red.
Dad keeps going, past the abandoned play area, across a weed-covered basketball court, through the burnt-out collection of cars and around the drunk twenty-something-year-olds who are busy dry humping each other on the ground. We come to a large metal fence which Dad swiftly starts climbing. Iâm clutching a stitch as I watch him effortlessly scramble up the chain links.
âCâmon!â he barks back at me.
Once Iâm with him at the top, we leap down. Up ahead is an abandoned train yard with dozens of broken carriages left to rot. Grass and weeds grow over the broken and bent train tracks. This place hasnât been used for decades, that much is obvious. We disappear between the train cars, keeping close to their sides, and try to remain silent. Dad pins us both to the rear of an old steamer, hiding our position from the group still giving chase. We hear them, in the darkness that covers us all.
âDid we lose âem?â a man asks, his voice muffled from the mask covering his face.
âNah. Theyâre here somewhere,â another replies. âLetâs split up.â
Thereâs a clang and then a hideous grinding of metal along metal. As if reading each otherâs thoughts, we both peer out from where weâre hiding, me to the left and my dad to the right. I see two of them slowly heading our way before we quickly return to our hiding spot.
âWhat did you see?â Jensen whispers.
âTwo. One of them has an axe,â I tell him in a quiet hush. Itâs the blade heâs dragging along the side of the carriage that causes my teeth to grind together. âAnother has a bat with large nails hammered into the wood. You?â
âTwo. Looks like a man with a metal pipe and a lass with a chainsaw.â
âChainsaw?!â I hiss before mouthing He shrugs and starts reloading his gun, nudging me as he does and whispering, âpew-pewâ.
I pull out my weapon and rest my finger on the trigger.
âThere were six,â I remind him.
âYep.â
âWhere are the other two?â
âNo idea. You sure neither of your two didnât have a machete?â
âDidnât look like it, no. Why?â I canât help but think how terribly specific that question was.
He grabs the back of my hoody and walks out from our cover, aiming his gun at the two he spotted. He fires, making sure that Iâm down low and covered by his body as we make our way to the next carriage over. The girl with the chainsaw screeches and disappears between the carriages as the metal pipe man takes three bullets in the chest and one in the head.
When we reach the next carriage, Jensen reloads.
âNice shooting, Dad,â I admire, strangely a little proud.
âOne down,â he says a little smugly.
A loud ding sounds by my head as a bullet misses my face by a couple of inches. Dadâs already reacted and fires two shots. The shooter falls backwards and doesnât get back up.
âTwo down. Câmon.â
We inch out from our cover, checking in all directions as we weave between the carriages. I try to keep my footing light and my senses sharp, but everything is dark and itâs taking far too much effort to differentiate between what shadows and shapes may or may not be trying to kill us. We reach the next carriage and Dad turns left, walking alongside it. Thereâs a yell as the man armed with the nail covered bat charges out through the open door of the carriage. He swings his weapon so hard, the wind of it moves my hair. Itâs a miracle Dad dodges it in time. The masked man lands on top of my him with a savage roar. My gun is aimed in an instant. When I cock it, the bat-wielding lunatic looks over his shoulder at me.
Dad takes his chance and clambers on top of him. The man lands him with a head butt and tightens his grip on his bat. He swipes, but thankfully theyâre too close to each other for the nails to make contact. Instead, itâs a clenched fist that slams into the side of Dadâs head, who, a little dazed, lands on his arse. The masked man gets to his feet, kicking the gun from his hand. It skids across the ground and disappears under the train-car.
From behind me, a petrol motor springs to life and the unmistakable buzzing of a chainsaw sends a shiver down my spine.
I turn.
The bleached blonde hair that tumbles over the sides of her mask is tied in pigtails. Her black fishnets disappear under black shorts and she shivers in the cold, wearing nothing else but a black bikini top. She tilts her head to the side and sways her weapon slowly in front of her.
I raise my gun and fire, just as Collins taught me. She spins and misses what was a terrible shot before raising the chainsaw up above her head, laughing a shrill and maniacal cackle. I fire three shots and she almost dances out of their way, showing no fear or hesitation as she descends on me.
This girl is either on something or completely insane!
I stumble backwards, firing shot after shot and cursing myself for failing to hit her with a single fucking bullet! I fire another and hear nothing but the empty click of a hollow chamber.
âAh⦠shit!â
She brings down the chainsaw on my left as I lunge out of its path. She raises it again and brings it down once more on my right.
I dodge.
Just!
She steps forwards, forcing me back time and time again as she tries to dismember me. The stench of petrol, blood and oil overwhelms my senses the closer she gets. I pass my dad, still struggling with the brute as they battle. He tries to get past to help me, but the nail-covered bat soars towards his head. Heâs quick and ducks below it.
âI got this!â I tell him. âYou focus on him, Iâve got her!â
I turn and run. Just as I hoped, she gives chase, her chainsaw high above her head and that hideous laugh echoing off the sides of the carriages.
I run.
Fucking fast!
I scour the floor for some kind of weapon. Anything! Hell, Iâll take a bloody stick at this point.
As I look at the ground, hoping to find something of use, I get a hard whack across the abdomen from a metal pipe. I land on my back, gasping and badly winded as a second girl steps out. The two girls stand over me, giggling. One twirls her lead pipe as the other swipes the chainsaw rapidly left to right.
âTime to die,â she giggles before the chainsaw comes down. I slam the sole of my shoe as hard as I can upwards, right between her legs. I roll out of the way and clamber to my feet, struggling to stand up straight and clasping my stomach.
âShe kicked me in the fucking pussy!â she screeches, crossing her legs and bending her knees while growling and swearing.
The girl with the metal pipe attacks, swiping it at me over and over. Sheâs not coordinated and her feet trip over themselves as she tries to reach me. I manage to grab her wrist and use the only weapon I have. Taking a leaf out of the little vamp girlâs book, I sink my teeth into her bare arm as hard as I can. Blood seeps into my mouth as she screams. My fingernails dig into her wrist and I twist until she relinquishes her grip. The pipe falls to the floor with a thud allowing me to scoop it up. I strike hard and without hesitation, driving it upwards under her jaw. Her head flings backwards and I hear a crunch as her teeth shatter. When her head lolls forwards I side wipe, smacking the side of her skull so her eyes glaze over and her mouth goes slack. She falls to her knees and then lands on her face.
One down.
The voice that speaks those words inside my mind may be mine, but the joy and the excitement of witnessing such violence certainly arenât.
I shudder, a cold sweat breaking out over my entire body as that same voice laughs darkly in my thoughts.
I barely catch the other girlâs attack in time and narrowly miss the chainsaw slicing across my neck.
the voice whispers seductively.
My fingers tighten around the pipe as I edge backwards. Chainsaw-girl continues to descend on me, but this time, a little more cautiously. Our feet drag in the dirt and although I canât see her eyes past her fake Hunterâs mask, I know that sheâs looking straight into mine. Her hatred of me, of what I am to her, is almost palpable. And I donât think she even knows who I am. My hood is still up and itâs pretty dark. Iâm a stranger and Iâm here. That makes me fair game.
âShut up!â I warn.
âI said shut up!â
Chain saw girl bellows and lunges forwards, jabbing her weapon towards my chest. As I dart backwards, my feet hit something solid on the ground behind me and I lose my footing. As I fall back and land on my backside, she takes her chance and attacks. I let go of the pipe and grab her forearm. The spinning blade is less than two inches from my face. I hear her ragged breathing from behind that featureless white mask and I smell liquor and cigarette smoke on her breath. Her feet dig into the ground as she forces more weight behind her, encouraging the sharp metal closer and closer. Her knees bend and she starts to groan with effort. I grunt back at her, trying in vain to get her and her chainsaw away from me.
Closer. Closer.
I turn my head away as I feel the air whizz past my nose.
âDIE, YOU FUCKING BITCH!â she screams.
âAfter you!â
I snatch at her ankle and tug, pulling her down to the ground with me. Her arms fly upwards and as she falls, she loses her grip on the handle. She lands beside me on the ground. The chainsaw flies upwards and we both watch, wondering where the still whirring weapon will land. When it starts to fall, we both risk a quick glance at each other and decide that the chainsaw is the more significant threat. We roll out of the way. Her, to the left and me, to the right. It lands between us and whirls wildly, circling and juddering, entirely out of control.
Weâre both back on our feet and waiting for a chance to grab the handle. She reaches out first but it moves and she grabs at the blade instead. She screams and holds the two fingers which are hanging off and spewing blood. She falls to her knees, wailing and hollering, clasping her injured hand to her chest.
I take a chance and go to grab the chainsaw. My hand takes hold of the handle and I lift it, pointing the guide bar and spinning chain down at her.
Part of me, a very dark and dangerous part of me, really wants to take my time and slowly relieve her of her limbs before taking her head.
I hear my Broken-self, encouraging me, begging meâ¦
The girl remains on her knees, breathless and in a tremendous amount of pain, but also furious.
Then, she starts laughing.
âWhat the hell are you laughing at!â I spit. âYou think I wonât kill you?â
âI know you would,â she snarls. âBecause thatâs what people like you do. You kill and you destroy.â
âIâm not the one dressed up like a crazed hooker, roaming the street and hunting for people to hack up with a fucking chainsaw!â I remind her.
She gives another playful giggle.
âWhy are you doing this? How many people have you killed?â
âPeople?â she repeats with a shrug. âNo people. Just plague-infested parasites that want to drain humanity of our very souls. Just monsters that tear at our throats and drink our blood. Why? How many have you killed?â
Her head tilts to the side.
I canât answer her question because honestly? I have no idea. Disgustingly, Iâve lost count.
She scoffs at my silence. âYouâre evil. All of you. The more of you we kill, the better the world will be. In the end.â
âWe didnât start this war.â I shut off the chainsaw.
âI donât care who started it. Weâre gonna finish it.â She leans forwards and says maliciously, âAnd now? Iâm gonna finish you!â
As she goes to rush me, shrieking like an injured beast, I take the chainsaw and slam the handle into her nose. I hear it break before she falls backwards.
âYOUâRE ALL GOING TO DIE!â she screams. âAND WHEN YOU DO, IâLL BE WATCHING FROM HEAVEN, LAUGHING WITH GOD-â
âOh shut up!â I punch her in the face and she falls quiet. âFuck!â I hiss, shaking my throbbing hand. âGoddammit, bloody nut job!â
I need to find Dad. I decide to keep hold of the chainsaw, just in case, and turn to head back towards him. I run, worried that he may be hurt or already dead. I turn left around the back of one of the carriages and skid to a stop, raising the chainsaw to block a machete headed for my neck. The wielder wears one of those bloody masks.
âWHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU PEOPLE?!â I yell.
Their head tilts backwards, then moves slowly forwards to get a better look at me.
âLilly?â they ask cautiously. The voice tells me itâs a girl and I lean forwards too, positive that I recognise it. âOh my godâ¦â she breathes, lowering her blade as I lower my weapon. âIs it really you?â
âDo I know you?â I squint against the darkness.
She lifts her mask. Her hair tumbles over her familiar face. Her eyes are wide in surprise, as is her gawping mouth.
She may be familiar, I know that I have seen her somewhere, but for the life of me, I canât recall.
âItâs Jessica,â she tells me, pointing at herself. âIâm the girl you saved from being executed at the witch auction a year ago.â
So my eyes had seen her before, but not my soul. I was Broken when we met.
âWhat are you doing here?â I ask, both stunned and a little wary. I glance around us, half expecting to be ambushed.
âWhat am doing here?â she asks with a laugh. âComing from the dead girl!â
âNot dead,â Dad calls over, wiping a trail of blood from his nose. âUnlike your pals.â He raises his pistol to her chest and stands by my side. âAlways old. Sometimes new.â
âIâm not sure thatâs really necessary. Lilly knows me.â
âNo, I donât,â I reply with a scoff.
âYou donât? I was the girl you stopped from being burnt alive.â She looks a little offended. âHow can you not remember that? And Jensen, I was a member of your camp back when Theodore Kendryk was in charge,â she retorts. âNot that youâd recall my face. You had your head pretty far up his arse-â
Dad cocks his gun.
âAlways old,â he says slowly and with an edge of warning. âSometimes new.â
âNever empty,â she replies, sliding her machete into a holder attached to her thigh and folding her arms across her chest. âSometimes full. Happy?â
She may have stowed her weapon, but he still holds his, untrusting and unwilling to give up our only protection. I look from one to the other.
âThe moon?â I ask, breaking the silence.
She looks at me with a hitched brow.
âAlways old⦠sometimes new? Never empty⦠sometimes full?â I shrug as I look between the pair. âThe moon, right?â
Dad puts on the safety and pockets his gun before taking my face in his hands.
âYou okay? You hurt?â But heâs not really asking me that. Heâs looking at the colour of my eyes.
âIs it still just the one?â I ask in a whisper.
He nods, confirming that only my left eye is lilac. Then he turns to Jessica.
âSo, youâre the contact?â
âYep.â Jessicaâs nods. âGot the riddle and the machete to prove it.â
âOf all the people, you?â he says through his teeth.
âYep. Me. Bit of a risk bringing into town, donât you think?â She gives a slight nod in my direction before her eyes narrow. Then they go very, very wide. âShit! One of her eyes is fucking purple!â Her machete is drawn and pointed at me in the blink of an eye. âSheâs Bro-â
âSheâs fine!â Dad replies. âI suggest you stop pointing your weapon at my little girl. I promise you, my bullet will find your skull long before your blade gets anywhere near her.â
The air is filled with tension. Her eyes dart between the two of us and her fingers flex on the handle of her blade.
âJensen, her eye is lilac. The ends of her hair are white. If she is a danger to the others, I canât help you. I donât send murdering lunatics to the Descendants.â
âI need to get to the others, Jessica,â I insist. âYou have no idea how important it is I get to Gabriel as quickly as possible. I need his magic, or everything is-â
âGabriel?â Jessica repeats, a crinkle growing on her brow.
âShe is fighting the Break. Lilly is in control and if we want it to stay that way, we need to get her to Gabriel and the others as soon as possible. And as calmly as possible.â He steps closer to Jessica and lowers his voice into a lethal warning. âI canât have anything upsetting her. All we need is for you to help us get to the others with Lillyâs soul intact. Do you understand me?â
After a tense moment, Jessica nods.
âWe need to get to a Nomad camp,â he states once more. âIâm out of the loop and need a location.â
âWell, thatâs because everyone thought you were dead.â She looks at me, her nose scrunched up and the corner of her mouth curled up in dislike. âYou have some nerve. Turning up after all this time. What, been on holiday or something? Decided the lives of your people werenât worth fighting for?â
âItâs none of your business where Iâve been or what Iâve been doing.â I head towards her, stopping close. âYou gonna help us or not?â I flick the edge of the plastic mask resting on top of her head. âOr is this your truth now? You joined them?â
âOf course not,â she bites back, removing the mask and looking at it with disgust. âIâm here to help refugees. They come here looking for me, and I guide them to safety. Or if some unfortunate fool catches these lunaticsâ attention, I intervene.â She looks past me to Jensen. âWhere are the other three?â
âBack there,â he throws a thumb over his shoulder. âVery very dead.â
âGood. We need to hide their bodies so no one gets suspicious. Unless Lilly can use that super fire of hers to burn them up?â
âNo can do, Iâm afraid.â I donât offer any further explanation. Iâm not too happy to say aloud that I have no magic right now. She doesnât ask, just gives an annoyed sigh and stomps ahead.
âThen we need to dump them. Get a move on! I ainât got all night.â
âSure we can trust her?â I ask him as she heads off.
âShe knew the riddle and to be honest with you, right now? We donât have any other fucking choice. Câmon.â
We shove the bodies of the vigilantes in one of the far containers made of thick steel and seal the door closed with chunky iron chains.
âHere.â Jessica hands us each a mask and gestures to the chainsaw and nail covered bat by her feet. âIf you wanna get through town in one piece, you gotta look the part. Donât suppose you have the cloaking cuff on you?â
I hold the mask in my hands and glance at the mechanical saw.
âAfraid not,â I murmur, as glimpses of my time spent wearing a mask not too dissimilar from this one flash in my mind.
âAre there active Hunters in town?â Jensen asks.
âNot to my knowledge. But you never know. Weâll head to my house and we can talk properly. I donât want to get caught out here.â She slides on her mask. âReady?â
Dad and I follow suit and don our masks.
âReady,â we reply.
âââ
After strutting through the streets, waving our weapons and cheering when we pass others out on the prowl, we turn down a dirt track with a single, dimly flickering street light. To the left, there are three houses with a steep hill behind them. The ground has shifted, causing the backs of the buildings to crumble and fall. Jessica leads us further down the track, to a single house almost entirely concealed by ivy. It grows over the windows and covers most of the door. When she unlocks it and steps aside to let us pass, I see that the ivy has even grown inside, stretching across the walls and towards the stairs. With a swift kick, Jessica seals the door shut and bolts it three times. She then turns on a small lamp.
âAinât much, but itâs outta the way and pretty secure.â She gestures for us to head in further. Thereâs an open plan lounge and kitchen with a single sofa and several dirty pots and pans piled high in the sink. âWe have water and gas but no electricity. I have some food. Not much but it will fill your belly good enough.â She starts stacking tins of food for us to see.
The windows are boarded shut with thick sheets of metal and the chimney has large wooden spikes pointed upwards, ready to impale any Father Christmas impersonators. There are a few shotguns propped up against the wall and a dartboard has been used as target practice for throwing knives. A number of them are still embedded in the cork and the wall.
Jessica turns on her heel and heads out of the room. Dad and I both follow.
âThe bathroom is back there,â she says, pointing to an open wooden door at the end of a small hallway. âToilet flushes and water runs for washing. Upstairs is a bedroom. Itâs a small house, which means not many people notice it down here at the end of the track. Most of the guys in town that wear those masks know me anyways. They respect my privacy-â
âYou kill any of those up on the bridge?â I ask.
She crosses her arms and leans against the wall. âYeah actually. I did kill a few. Are you, of all people, gonna give me grief about it?â
âYou killed our own?â
Her eyes narrow and I see her distrust and dislike for me. But despite that, she shakes her head.
âBeing a vigilante is a risky business. Sometimes, after they put on those masks, they go missing, or they leave looking for more action. And sometimes, they get between me and those who seek me out. Itâs unpleasant, but a blowtorch to the face or a bat repeatedly slammed into their skull can really fuck up what they look like. Most of the bodies up on that bridge are the same type of people we sealed up in that carriage back at the train yard. Unfortunately, a few are some poor souls I just couldnât save.â
Her eyes fall to the floor and a haunted expression washes over her face.
âThis war has turned a lot of people into monsters. Humans have an excuse. Theyâre under the influence of the Hunter mark. Itâs almost brainwashing. The hatred they have for us is an infection.â Her gaze lifts and lands on me. âWhat we do? Thatâs different. We have a choice. When we kill, weâre not under any influence.â
âYeah. We have a choice.â I rest my hand on her shoulder. âWe can die bloody, or we kill to survive. The choice we have is shit. But this wonât last forever.â
âYou still planning on finishing the final spell?â she asks. âYou think you can get us out of here?â
âI sure as hell hope so. But first, I need to find the others. Do you know where they are?â
âTobias and Collins, you mean?â
âAnd Gabriel, as well as Connor.â
Her eyes flick to Dad.
âWe need to find someone with magic. Thatâs all. So, what do you know?â he asks.
Jessica jiggles her leg and chews her lip.
âWhy are you so hesitant? Huh? You donât trust me?â I bite.
âI donât mean to be rude,â she says sharply. âBut last time I saw you, you were a psycho who captured your friends and handed them over to Theo. Then you disappeared and left us in this mess so no, I donât particularly trust you. And you?â She nods to Dad. âYou were once the right-hand man of the tyrant currently responsible for the slaughter of thousands and the destruction of civilisation as we knew it.â
âAnd you were in his shadow, just as I was,â he retorts. âYou grew up as a Rambler, a Traitor, whatever the hell you want to call it, just as I did. We all believed we were on the side of good. We were wrong and now we have to try and put that right.â
We stand in the cramped hallway in silence, looking from one to another. Finally, she pushes herself off the wall.
âI gotta make some calls.â
âYou have their phone numbers?â I ask quickly. âGive them to me!â
âI donât have a direct number. It doesnât work like that.â
âIâm starting to get annoyed.â
âWell, Iâm already annoyed and I have been ever since you disappeared and left us defenceless against a bunch of vampire freaks, murderous Hunters, Theo Kendryk and the fucking Grey-Cloak-murdering-son-of-a-bitch!
âThatâs enough, Jessica!â Dad snaps. âLillyâs been through hell herself so back off. Hear me?!â
He steps between us and judging by the shrinking look on Jessicaâs face, he is not showing her a smile.
She steps back.
âWe need calm. We need you to get the location.â Every word he utters is said with menace and through gritted teeth. Eventually, she concedes.
âGet some food and get some rest,â she says. âIâll make some calls and be back in a bit.â
I watch her disappear upstairs and she slams her bedroom door shut.
âI donât trust her.â
âWell,â he sighs. âRight now sheâs our only chance at getting to the others. Our alternative is aimlessly walking about England, hoping you sense someone with magic. Câmon.â He rests a gentle hand on my lower back and nudges me towards the kitchen. âIâll get you something to eat.â
âââ
Curled up in the corner of the sofa, half-buried under a blanket, I slowly begin to wake up after a deep and troubled sleep. The small clock on the fireplace mantel tells me that we survived the night and that beyond the boarded-up windows, the sun should have started to rise.
Dad and Jessica donât realise I have woken up and I watch them chat in the kitchen. They keep their voices low and speak heatedly with each other.
Jessica wants to know where Iâve been. Heâs refusing to comment. She claims she has the right to know. He simply shrugs and sips his coffee.
âYour job is to get refugees to safety,â he reminds her. âNot pry on their personal lives. No matter how much you youâre entitled to know.â
âIâve risked my life to fulfil this job. And I need to protect the others that Iâm sending you to. Sheâs a bomb just waiting to go off. Have you forgotten what she did? For Godâs sake, Jensen. One of her eyes is lilac! When she finds out the truth, you better believe that the other one will turn too-â
âI suggest you donât comment on shit you donât understand. The only reason youâre about her is because of your personal interest in her husband.â
âI donât know what youâre implying-â
âI ainât implying. Iâm telling you outright, just as I did a year ago when you started pining after Gabriel, back off!â
âI was just a friend. He was in pain. His deranged wife had stolen his unborn baby. If you want to be angry with anyone, you should be furious with your precious daughter. Sheâs the one who betrayed us all and left-â
âFirst. Lilly didnât steal the baby. She suffered a Break, which she has now overcome. Second, the only reason you donât want to help her is because you are jealous.â
âIâm not jealous-â
âYou tried to kiss my daughterâs husband, Jessica. The father of her child.â
âIt was a mistake. Okay? I apologised and left. I came here for godâs sake. Doesnât that prove my-â
âGuilt?â he says, taking another sip of his coffee. âYeah, Iâd say so.â
âYou kissed Gabriel?â The words leave my mouth before I even think about it. I sit up, letting the blanket slide off me to the floor.
She straightens up as her face drains of colour.
âIt was an accident. I just-â
âTripped and fell on a married manâs lips?â Iâm on my feet with clenched fists. âI saved your life at that auction, and you make a move on my husband?â
âTo be fair, it happened before the auction and-â
âYOU KISSED MY FUCKING HUSBAND!â
âOkay. Calm down-â
âI swear, Dad. You tell me to calm down one more time Iâll slap the shit outta you.â
He raises his hand in surrender and returns his focus to his coffee.
âI wasnât thinking. Weâd all just learnt about Theo. I lost everything I knew overnight. I was scared, and Gabriel was so kind-â
âDonât.â I point my finger at her in warning, hating how she says his name with such familiarity. âDid he kiss you back?â
Dad chokes on his coffee as he laughs and blood rushes to Jessicaâs cheeks.
âNo,â he chortles, wiping coffee from his chin. âHe pushed her away and then vomited all over her.â
âWeâd been drinking!â she insists, the crimson of her cheeks growing.
He waves his hand dismissively. âHe pushed her off, vomited and then refused to even look at her so no, Buttons. Gabriel most certainly did not âkiss her backâ.â He gives another laugh. âThat was some funny shit.â
âHow about we move on, yeah?â Jessica tries. âWe canât leave here until sunset. That leaves us with a good twelve hours or so until we can go. The journey ahead will be long so I strongly recommend getting some sleep while you can.â She looks Dad up and down. âAnd perhaps talk to her about some truths that she may need to be aware of.â I watch his amusement swiftly leave his face and be replaced by murderous rage. Jessica blinks at his sudden change in demeanour and starts to head for the hallway. âIf you want me, Iâll be upstairs sleeping.â
On her way out, she scoops up a box of cereal and stomps up the stairs. Both Dad and I flinch when she slams her bedroom door.
My teeth grind together as I stare at the empty doorway.
âWhat truths, Dad? Has Gabriel met someone else? Is that what she means?â
âWill you stop fixating on that? I told you already, Gabriel was loyal to you, Lilly. He didnât betray you.â
I nod, hating how images of Ava Sinclair pop into my head.
âShe meant that she couldnât reach any of the boys, but she left messages with people who can and who know how to track them down. Weâre heading to a camp up north. With any luck, if the messages get through, the boys will meet us there.â
âShe hasnât spoken to Gabriel then? Or Collins? Tobias?â
âNo. Not directly. As I said, theyâre out of range and canât be contacted. They are more than likely on a mission of some kind. They wonât share details like that over the phone. You never know who may be listening. But they will get the message to call Jessica or me. Fingers crossed, in a day or two, weâll all be back together again. Youâll have access to magic and you can get your memories back-â
âAnd Iâll be able to find my baby,â I exhale the words. They are so heavy to say and to contemplate. Fuck. I loathe not knowing. âI donât think I can wait till sundown, Dad. I think we should go now.â
âJessicaâs got a car on the other side of town and a supply of cash and food hidden in its trunk. But if we leave now, youâll be spotted in minutes. You and I both. Weâll never get out of here. Trust me. I know that waiting is painful. Unbearable! But your baby wonât be found at all if weâre not smart and end up dead.â
When he offers me his coffee, I take a sip.
âThereâs something else. Jessica wonât tell me exactly where the camp is nor give me her contactâs details.â
âWhy? Who the hell does she think she is?â
âShe wants to come with us. Sheâs worried weâre gonna ditch her so she wonât give up any information. She wants to take us to them herself.â
âFine.â I shrug. âShe can come with us. Sheâs probably safer coming with us anyway. Whatâs the problem?â
âI dunno. I just feel a lot better keeping it just us. Sheâs not exactly a soothing individual to be around and I really donât want anything to set you off.â
âWell, if sheâs refusing to tell us unless she can come, then I think that the callâs been made. I swear, I will only kill her if she tries it on with Gabriel again.â I smile as I wink at him. But he fails to share the joke. âLook. Sheâs not enough to Break me, okay? As long as no one else dies horribly in front of me, I think Iâm good.â
He lets out an uncertain groan.
âThatâs hardly the attitude, Dad.â
âWell, considering the fact the worldâs most ruthless killers are hunting us⦠that does not fill me with confidence.â
As I pass him and head back to the lounge, I pat his arm.
âItâs going to be okay, Dad. Weâll get to the others. Iâll get my memories back, find my baby, finish the spell, and show you what a dragon looks like when we reach the Arcane Realm.â
I turn to the kitchen cupboards and start looking for something to eat.
âWell, if weâre stuck here until sundown, I guess we better make something to eat. Tinned hotdogs and powdered mash potatoes sound good?â
âSounds delicious,â he replies, falling heavily onto the broken and dusty couch. âGod. I really can not fucking wait to leave this shithole behind for good.â
âMe neither. Me. Neither.â
âââ
We pass some time watching TV. There are only three channels on the air. Two of them report on the news and the third is playing commercials on a loop.
The world is in an upheaval, thatâs for sure. The US President authorised devastating bombings and raids on almost every state in America. Hunters have taken control of governments and placed thousands upon thousands of people accused of magic in concentration camps. I have read all about the Nazis and what they did during the second world war. History, it seems, is repeating itself. Most of Europe is chasing out those they donât want. Boats full of the dead and dying are drifting onto foreign shores every day. Truck drivers are arrested for transporting âundesirablesâ across borders and amongst all of this, England seems to be their destination of choice.
âDo you remember the night you and Theo kidnapped Gabriel and me?â I ask with a sigh. âThe night we first met, when Theo cut off my fingers?â
âIâm unlikely to forget it. Why?â he replies with caution.
âTheo showed me a vision that night. One of death and war. Blood in the streets and bodies on the ground.â I point to the news footage. âHe showed me this. Exactly this. He was so sure that this was what was going to happen if I returned magic to the Descendants, but it was him all along. His Hunters. His bloodlust. His blind obsession with bringing back a crazy dead woman. And he told everyone that this was to be my doing!â I sink into the sofa a little. âI guess I am partly to blame.â
âThis isnât your fault.â
âI reignited this war.â
âYou were born. Thatâs your crime. If you were left to do what was needed in peace, then this war would never have restarted. This is Theo. No one else.â
I offer a less than sincere humph and continue watching the news.
âWhy are they all coming to England? I think, if I were them, Iâd head to Mongolia.â
âBecause here there are some people with magic. Most of the Nomads grew up under the command of the Kendryk boys. Theyâve kept them safe for centuries. And theyâre desperate. Itâs remarkable what people do to try and survive. To protect the ones they love.â
âYeah. I guess.â
âTheo wants the journal and he needs someone to read it. He suspects youâre dead but he also knows that there is another who may be able to translate the spell hidden in the journal.â
âConnor.â I shudder as I recall the last time I saw him. âIs he okay? Does he have the journal?â
âConnorâs okay as far as Iâm aware but he doesnât have the journal.â
âWho does?â
âWell, part of me hoped you did. Gabriel tossed it to you just before the helicopter crash. We looked for it after you disappeared but found nothing. If you donât have it, then I guess it must have been destroyed in the explosion.â
But I shake my head. âMortal weapons canât destroy the journal. Itâs magical.â
âWell, to be fair, when the journal was written, they didnât have a helicopter strapped up with bombs to test that theory. Maybe that was enough to destroy it?â
âOr maybe itâs wherever I was this past year. As long as Theo doesnât have it, Iâll take it as a win.â
âAgreed.â
âBut what if Iâve missed the window for the final stone?â
âThen we go to war, Buttons. We figure out a way to destroy the Hunterâs mark, put an end to Theo and Grayson, and we donât stop until we win.â
âYou make it sound so simple.â
With a long and tired moan, he gets to his feet, scooping up his empty coffee mug.
âFar from simple. But weâll get there. Somehow. I prom-â
The power goes out. The television goes black. The lamps turn off. With the windows boarded up, weâre plunged into darkness. A strange noise rattles along the wall. Something⦠metal? I think itâs falling down the chimney.
Clang. Clang. Clangâ¦thudthudthud.
Then⦠BOOM!
A stun grenade explodes between us, blinding and deafening us both. Then the room starts to fill with thick smoke. Within seconds, my throat is on fire. I start coughing and gasping. Itâs too painful to breathe. When I open my eyes, they sting and begin to stream. I fall off the sofa, the unmistakable hiss from the tear gas canisters grows louder as I crawl across the floor.
âButtons-â Dadâs call is cut short by a severe bout of coughing. âW-where are you?â
âHere!â I gasp, stretching out my fingers, feeling blindly for him. âIâm here-â The words get caught in my throat and I start retching.
When he grabs my wrist, I scramble towards him. He starts wrapping something over my nose and mouth.
âTry to keep your eyes closed,â he orders, struggling to speak. He pulls up my hood and tucks my hair beneath it. âKeep your head down and donât speak. If they see you-â
Cough. Cough. Cough.
I know.
If Iâm caught, Iâm fucked. We all are!
He hauls me to my feet and grabs one of the shotguns by the wall. There are a series of loud bangs from the heavily bolted front door, and the metal sheeting over the windows start to rattle as theyâre hit from outside.
âShe betrayed us!â I force myself to say. âShe told them w-where we are!â
âYou better not be talking about me!â Jessica says harshly, appearing in front of us with a torch. Sheâs wearing a gas mask and has another in her hand which she thrusts at me. âI only got the two. Lilly, put this on and Jensen, try not to breathe too much. Both of you follow me. Thereâs a way out through the basement.â
Dad tries to put the gas mask on me but I shove it straight back at him.
âYouâre the better fighter,â I insist. âItâs more important⦠youâ¦â Another severe bout of coughing tears at my throat and once again he tries to place the mask on me. I thrust it back at him in anger.
He slides on the mask and buries my face into his chest, hoping to protect me from the smoke and its agony.
Iâm guided through the smog to the hall. Jessica prises open a small door beneath the stairs, but the second it opens, weâre charged by several blurry shapes. Dad throws me to the floor and the sound of gunshots, metal blades, fist striking flesh and pain-filled cries all swirl all around me. Thereâs an explosion and a blast of heat slams into me. The house trembles. Splinters of wood and shards of glass scatter all around us. I throw my hands over my head to try and spare myself from any severe harm. Something warm and wet splatters my skin.
Someoneâs blood.
I canât just huddle here like a weak coward while Dad and Jessica fight. I get to my feet and squint through the smog.
âJENSEN!â Jessica screams. âTHEY HAVE ME! HELP!â
Thereâs a series of clattering and breaking of furniture as she struggles and fights against her opponent.
Dad grabs me and throws me over his shoulder. He goes for the hidden door but stops and looks behind him. A few seconds pass as he just stands there, the heavy sound of his filtered breathing land in my ear.
âOH GOD! ITâS THE GREY-CLOAK! HEâS HERE! DONâT LEAVE ME BEHIND!â Jessica pleads.
âI wonât,â he replies, speaking to himself. âBecause I canât.â He lifts the shotgun and points it into the dense smoke and towards her furious yelling. âIâm sorry, Jessica.â
âWhat⦠Dad, no!â With a kick, I knock the gun from his hand. Although he fires, Jessica continues to fight off her attackers so I know sheâs still alive. In the confusion, Iâve managed to wriggle free from Dadâs arms and landed on my hands and knees. As I get to my feet, to go to Jessica, to save her, he wraps his arms around my waist and pulls me away, kicking and screaming.
âWe canât leave her!â I bellow over the chaos.
âWe donât have a choice! You heard her. The Grey-Cloak has her now. Weâre not gonna get her back and I will not let him get his hands on you!â
I keep fighting as he pulls me towards the basement door, scooping up the shotgun as he passes it.
âWe wonât find the others without her! We have no phone numbers! No locations!â
âWeâll figure it out!â he replies.
Before I can stop him, heâs lifted the gun and fired.
Jessicaâs cry pierces the air. Wherever she is, she falls to the floor with a thump, the sound of her choking on her blood cuts deep.
âWHAT DID YOU DO?!â I scream.
âShe knew too much,â he says, turning and slamming the basement door shut behind us. âShe would never hold up against the Grey-Cloakâs torture. I had no choice.â
âGoddammit!â I start hitting his chest. âI need to find Gabriel! Sheâs the only one who knew how to find him!â
âHELP ME!â Jessica calls out from beyond the door. âPlease⦠donât leave me here!â
Dad and I both watch each other and then look to the closed door separating us from the horde of Hunters.
âSheâs still alive,â I breathe.
âIf you go through that door, itâs over. Jessica said the Grey-Cloak was there. If he is-â
âIâm not scared of a man in a stupid coat. Iâm scared of never seeing my family again.â
âGoddammit, Lilly!â Dad slams me against the wall as I reach for the door. He holds me there before pulling off his mask and looking down at me with desperation. âYou canât go out there! Jessica is as good as dead.â
âSheâs the only one who knows how to find Gabriel! Only Gabriel can look into my memories, Dad. Only Gabriel can help me find my baby. Only Gabriel-â
âGabrielâs dead, Lilly! Okay?â he roars at me. âShe canât tell you where he is because heâs fucking dead and has been for the past six months!â
As I blink at him, all I can stutter is, âW-what? No. Noâ¦â
His hold on me eases a little. âI didnât want to tell you because youâre fragile, but I canât let you go out there to die in the effort to find a dead man. Iâm sorry, sweetheart. I am. But thatâs the truth.â
âYouâre lying. YOUâRE A LIAR!â The punch I deliver into his chest is pathetic.
âTheo caught Gabriel the night of the second spell. We tried to get him back. We did! But we couldnât.â
âNo. Youâre lying.â
âI wish I were. Gabriel was a prisoner for six months until he was executed. Heâs dead, Lilly! He canât help you find your memories.â He looks over my shoulder. âAnd the man who killed him is on the other side of that door, coming for you next. The Grey-Cloak executed him and he will-â
The door explodes and sends us both hurtling down the concrete steps into the depths of the cellar. I land with a thud to the back of my head and am unable to move as Dad fires his shotgun repeatedly. When the bullets run dry, he pulls out a pistol. When the empty chamber clicks, he uses his fists. Heâs no match against so many and is overpowered quickly by the men who have attacked us. He falls beside me, clasping his bleeding head before a gag is tied around my mouth and a heavy cloth bag is thrown over my head.
Iâm caught.
And I donât care.
I just donât fucking care.