Angel's Fury (16 page)

‘Oh.’ My heart ached for him.

If I feel this bad for Seth, why can’t I feel sorry for Lenny?

He gestured at his scarred neck. ‘This happened on my eleventh birthday. I wanted a trip to the cinema, but Dad booked an assault course. He invited every boy in my class. All day I was
shoved off platforms and dumped in the mud while he watched.’

‘. . . And didn’t do anything?’

Seth shook his head. ‘At the end of the day a few of the bigger guys ganged up on me and I finally fought back. Stupidly I picked the highest platform to make my stand. When they pushed me off I landed on a tree branch.’ He smiled bleakly. ‘Dad said he’d follow the ambulance, but there was some sort of emergency at work. He didn’t come to the hospital until the next day.’

‘W-what happened to the boys that did this?’

Seth’s eyes focused back on the present. ‘Nothing.’ He looked surprised at my question. ‘I didn’t moan about it, I got better and they never touched me again. I guess they realised it had all gone too far. Dad suggested I start working out. That must’ve helped too.’

‘Oh.’ Suddenly cold I wrapped my arms round myself. ‘Your past life . . . the one you wouldn’t talk about. It reminds you of your birthday . . . makes you feel like a victim.’

Seth nodded.

‘I still feel awful about what I did to Lenny.’

‘I’ll check on him before bed.’ Seth paused. ‘You won’t do it again, will you?’

‘Electrocute him?’

‘The Doctor’s extra-curricular experiments.’

I shook my head. ‘I-I don’t know.’ He opened his mouth but I didn’t let him speak. ‘It worked.’

‘You had a
good dream
?’ He forgot to whisper.

I clutched his hand. ‘I’d just given birth. It hurt as much as any of my deaths, so that part wasn’t good. But . . . I got to hold this baby in my arms and I knew he was mine. Seth, I’d done this incredible thing, I’d
made
him. I woke up with this feeling of . . . just amazing joy.’

‘I don’t believe it.’ His shoulders sagged. ‘But we can’t hurt other people just to get rid of our nightmares.’

‘I . . . I guess not,’ I replied.

Seth sighed wistfully. ‘You know, the only time I don’t dream about death is when I dream about this book and
that’s
almost the worst nightmare of the lot.’

My head shot up. ‘You dream about a book? D-does it have a black cover?’

I’d thought Seth’s face was pale before, but now his scar stood out against his neck livid as a fresh wound. He gripped my shoulders. ‘You’ve seen it too?’

Slowly I nodded. ‘How is that possible?’

‘I-it isn’t just the book I dreamed about.’ Seth’s fingers contracted slightly and his eyes towed mine to his sculptures, which now stood exposed in the corner of the room.

I looked at the carvings, not understanding. ‘What?’

‘You still don’t recognise yourself?’ His voice was hoarse.

I laughed nervously. ‘That’s not me.’ The statue was beautiful, all flowing hair, graceful limbs and slanted eyes that drew me in like lodes. ‘I don’t look like that.’

Surprise evertook Seth’s expression. ‘You do to me.’

I hesitated. ‘Did the Doctor see this before I got here?’

He nodded. ‘It was the first thing I made. It’s been here for weeks.’

‘So . . . when I went to see her in London, she’d seen this already.’ I frowned, but I couldn’t work out if it meant anything.

Maybe the Doctor didn’t even recognise me from Seth’s sculpture
.

Seth’s mismatched eyes darkened. ‘She probably thought it would freak you out if she mentioned that one of her other patients had made a statue of you.’ He cleared his throat and let me go. The sudden absence of his hands made me shiver.

Regardless of the Doctor’s motives I had my own confession
to make. ‘I-I dreamed of you too,’ I whispered.

Seth’s fingers hovered over my left hand. ‘I did wonder.’

‘But
how
?’ I focused on his swollen knuckle rather than look at his face.

‘Perhaps we’ve met in a past life.’

I half turned and gestured at the sculpture. ‘That doesn’t explain how you knew what I’d look like in this life.’ I thought of Zillah. ‘I looked different last time.’

Seth hummed thoughtfully and his breath caressed my mouth. My tongue flicked across my bottom lip; I tasted toothpaste and raised my eyes.

He was staring at me; my reflection shone in the growing blackness of his pupils. His fingers caught mine and unthinkingly I moved my right palm on to his thigh. Through the cotton of his pyjamas his bunched muscles felt hot as brands.

The sound of a ringing bell exploded into the room and I gave a small shriek. Seth jolted, a flush bruised his face and guiltily he jumped back.

‘We
can’t
.’ His voice was so hoarse it was barely recognisable. ‘It’s a rule here.’

Humiliation fried me to my toes. ‘I know.’ I moved until there
was a wide gap between us. ‘I should go to my room.’ Seth nodded, but I didn’t leave.

I had to tell him all I knew. I cleared my throat. ‘Seth . . . you know the book?’

His eyes narrowed in acknowledgement.

‘I’ve seen it. I-it belongs to the Doctor.’

For a moment Seth displayed no reaction then small muscles tensed in his jaw. ‘Are you sure?’

‘I saw her reading it on my first day here.’ Seth swore under his breath and I continued talking in an undertone. ‘I-I don’t trust the Doctor. There’s something going on here and I’m sure that book has something to do with it.’

Seth nodded grimly. ‘Then we have to get a look at it.’

‘The Doctor went nuts when I saw her with it. She won’t just show it to us.’

He clenched his fists. ‘If only there was a way we could search her office . . .’

‘But we’re not allowed to leave our rooms after the final bell.’ Frustration pushed my words through gritted teeth. ‘This place is like a prison!’

‘We can’t even sneak out.’ Seth gestured towards the barred
window and his face caught the light.

A noise at his door made us spin as if we were on a spit. The lock snicked, the handle turned and it swung open. The Doctor stood in the frame, filling the corridor.

Lenny grinned evilly from behind her. ‘Told you she’d be in here,’ he said.

A swift count of the dead tells me two are missing
.

I frown, rest my gun on my shoulder and turn slowly. My heel grinds on broken glass and I look down. There’s a satchel under my boot. A broken picture of a smiling woman is crushed under it. I kick it aside
.

Which way did they run? With barley this high, they could be hiding anywhere. I step forward. Hans calls to me, but I wave him back. I need quiet
.

Off to my right the barley seems more damaged than it should be and a smear of blood on one of the leaves is more than just spatter
.

They went that way . . . but there’s nowhere for them to go. The nearest building is the castle in the distance. I hum a little under my breath as I follow their trail
.

* * *

Next morning I could barely drag myself down to breakfast. Apart from the fact that the idea of seeing Pandra again was making my belly ache, horrifying dreams had ramped through my head during the night as if the day’s experiment had never happened.

After waking from another new nightmare I’d spent my time trying to think of a way to get into the Doctor’s office without being caught.

There’s an obvious solution, Cassiopeia. Call your parents and just get the hell out of here
.

I ducked into the lobby payphone then stopped, holding my key card. I needed it to activate the phone, so the Doctor would know I was making the call.

I’ll just have to be careful
.

‘Mum, I can’t stay here any more.’ There was silence on the other end and I clutched the receiver tighter.

Have we been cut off?

‘Mum?’

‘I’m here.’ She sounded resigned. ‘Let me get your dad.’

My leg jiggled as I waited.

Soon Dad’ll be on his way to pick me up. Tonight I’ll be sleeping in my own bed
.

I leaned wearily on the wall. Every muscle screamed, my head ached abominably and my eyes were sore from crying. I so badly wanted some rest.

‘Cassie?’ It was Dad.

‘I can’t stay here, Dad. Please come and get me.’

‘Cassie, I really did hope not to get this call.’

I turned my face further into the wall. ‘I know, but it’s bad here. I-I can’t explain on the phone, but you have to come.’

‘It’s barely been a fortnight. Have you given the treatment a chance?’

Panic started to raise my voice. ‘You don’t understand, I’m getting worse, not better, there’re things going on here . . . I can’t tell you right now.’

I heard Dad tap the receiver. ‘The thing is, honey . . .’ He paused and a black hole started to open in my heart. ‘The thing is, when we sent you there we had to sign a document.’

My voice sounded tinny. ‘What kind of document?’

There was another long pause. ‘Doctor Ashworth is your legal guardian for the duration of your treatment. You can’t leave until
she agrees you’re ready. We’ll speak to her, call her now; maybe she’ll agree to release you early. Call us back in an hour and I’ll let you know what she says.’

I dropped the receiver back on to the cradle and leaned against the wall of the booth, too numb even to cry. There was no way the Doctor was going to agree to my departure, not with the ‘excellent progress’ I was making. I was trapped.

‘Doctor Ashworth says it’s completely normal.’ Dad answered the phone immediately when I called back. ‘Paranoia is one of the symptoms of sleep deprivation and you’re in a strange place surrounded by strange people.’ His voice dropped. ‘You have to try harder. We didn’t want to tell you this, but we had to remortgage the house so you could go to Mount Hermon. You need to listen to the Doctor and get better. Everything will be fine. You just have to be brave and get over this adjustment period, okay?’

Dragging my feet I headed into the dining room. Then I stopped. Lenny was on his way out. Seeing me, his eyes widened and he looked for another way to go.

I felt dizzy again and dug my fists into my eyes, trying to make
the room stay still. When I looked back up, Lenny had disappeared and the kitchen door was swinging shut.

Wearily I scanned the tables. There was a spare seat next to Lizzie and I made for it, ignoring Pandra’s welcoming fork wave.

I dropped into the seat and I looked at my hands. They shook all the time now, as if I had palsy.

I have to find that book. If it proves I’m getting worse, then Dad’ll have to get me out of here
.

I reached blindly for a slice of toast.

But if the Doctor catches me she’ll call the police. I’ll be done for breaking and entering . . . and the German authorities are probably still looking for me
.

I lowered the toast before I could crush it into crumbs and my thoughts raced like rats in a maze as I tried to think of a way to get out of my room without being caught.

The barred windows meant I had to use the door. But the key card was the only way to open it and that would bring someone looking.

I have to fool the key-card system . . .

Lizzie was watching me with an odd expression; I’d been holding the same piece of toast in the air for several minutes.
Quickly I bit off a mouthful and chewed contemplatively. Each time I’d used my card to open a door a light above the slot had changed from red to green. So there had to be a sensor in the door frame.

I was chewing my cheek, my toast long disintegrated. I took another absent-minded bite from the piece in my hand.

If I put something inside the door frame . . . can I fool the sensor into thinking my door is locked when it isn’t?

I sat up straighter.

‘Lizzie?’ I addressed the younger girl in a half whisper.

‘Mmm?’ She swallowed a mouthful of Frosties but waved her spoon to show she was listening.

‘Could you make some little wooden rectangles for me?’

Lizzie gave a half shrug, half nod.

‘How long would it take?’

Her spoon knocked on her bowl. ‘You want them carved or anything?’

I shook my head.

‘A few minutes each. Not long. What’re they for?’

Inspiration struck me. ‘I’ve got an idea for Double Dares.’

Lizzie grinned. ‘Cool.’ She leaned forward. ‘Are you going to
let me in on it? Double Dares is my game you know.’

I wrinkled my nose. ‘I need to test it first. Is that okay?’

She flounced back in her chair. ‘I suppose so.’

I fiddled with the toast on my plate and stared. Lizzie was usually in constant motion, her curls bouncing, her face animated. It wasn’t often I saw her still, but for a moment the small disappointment revealed a different girl: overweight and spotty with frizzy hair. Somehow her usual gyroscopic movement disguised all that.

I frowned. ‘Lizzie, how’d you get into Double Dares anyway?’

She blinked. ‘I just did, I guess.’ She looked away for a moment then turned back. ‘After some nights I could just curl up in a corner and never show my face. You know what I mean?’

I nodded.

‘Double Dares keeps me
doing
stuff. It reminds me not to just give in to all this.’ She swallowed. ‘Otherwise I’m just a walking dishrag: the clean-up after some dead guy’s power trip. If I keep taking risks, like with Double Dares, then I’m living my life.’

I cleared my throat. ‘If I get you some measurements, do you think you could do those wooden blocks for me today?’

Lizzie picked up Nutella-smeared toast, hesitated, then bit.
‘No problem.’ She nodded and butter dripped down her chin.

After breakfast I returned to my room. I pretended to re-tie my trainers in the doorway and examined the lock. There was a bump inside that might, or might not, be the sensor I’d imagined.

Mum had left me a sewing kit. I found the tape measure then made sure I was alone and measured the gap in the doorframe. After scribbling the figures on to the back of a bit of thread-wrapped card I ran to the art room.

I handed the card to Lizzie. ‘Here’re the measurements. Could you put a groove in the top of each one, so they can be lifted out easily?’