Angel's Fury (8 page)

The wide steps glistened with recent rainfall but, as I watched, the sun eased through the clouds and gleamed on the cream stone. A shaft of light glinted from a window pane and drew my attention to a set of bars.

Why are there bars on the windows?

With a final rattle and crunch the car rolled to a halt and Dad heaved on the handbrake. Not one of us moved.

Then a sharp crack just by my head made me jump and my door was opened from the outside.

Nostrils flaring, my head snapped up. A boy leaned on the roof-rack, long hair shifting in the breeze. Recognition whipped the air from my lungs. The boy had, quite literally, stepped out of a nightmare . . . the one from the Doctor’s office.

My heart started to race.

Frantically I searched my memory; maybe we’d met somewhere. His hair was neater than I remembered and tied into a ponytail at the base of his neck. The style revealed the presence
of a twisting scar that snaked from beneath his right ear lobe to the collar of his shirt. It made him look . . . dangerous.

Our gazes met and the boy’s own intake of breath was obvious.

Could I be as familiar to him as he is to me?

His eyes widened as I continued to stare. The left was the colour of melted chocolate, the right, while still brown, was so light it was almost gold. I blinked, slightly confused by the odd sense that there were two people in there.

Then I noticed how deeply his eyes were sunk, as though bruising from a heavy beating was only just fading. More specifically as though he’d never enjoyed a good night’s sleep.

Whoever he is . . . this boy is like me.

The boy’s eyes flicked to my parents but he spoke to me. ‘Are you going to sit there all day?’

Embarrassed into movement, I unlocked my seatbelt and slid towards the door. ‘We’ve come all this way . . . I might as well get out of the car.’

But my legs had cramped after hours in one position. When I winced the boy offered me a hand. Automatically I wrapped my fingers round his. One of the boy’s knuckles was swollen. Thoughtlessly I ran the pad of my thumb over the old injury.

He cleared his throat and flushing hotly I leaped from the car and pulled my hand free.

What am I doing?

Dad stood next to me and held out his palm. ‘Dave Farrier.’

They shook hands. ‘Seth Alexander.’

Dad nodded. ‘This is my daughter, Cassie, and my wife, Marie.’

‘Hi.’ Seth turned to me.

‘H-hi.’

My thoughts stuttered. Seth looked like a hero from an old story. Nicola would have called him ‘well fit’ but he was more than that. He was beautiful. Immediately I clamped down on the thought as if he could read my mind.

‘I’ve been sent to help with your bags and show you to your room.’

With an uncharacteristic show of heartiness, Dad patted my back and went to open the boot.

I had a wheeled case and a smaller bag. Dad took the case and Seth hefted the bag on to his shoulder. His shirt strained across his back and I exhaled. I tried to look away, but my gaze shifted to the fit of his jeans. For something to do I sank my hands into my hair and tightened my ponytail. Mum
caught my elbow as Dad and Seth crunched towards the steps.

‘You’re here to get better.’ Her voice was exasperated.

‘I know.’

Why did she have to see me looking at him?

‘You need to focus on your health, not on boys.’

I dug my toes into wet gravel. ‘
I know
.’

Mum touched my chin. ‘I know you know, pumpkin, but please be careful. That lad is older than you. You haven’t had much experience with this sort of thing and now isn’t the time. When you’re well you’ll meet someone.’

I ducked away. ‘He’s hardly spoken to me, Mum. And he wouldn’t be interested anyway.’ Angrily I gestured, taking in my cheap clothes, lazy hair and pallid complexion.

Mum shook her head again, slowly, and her mouth turned down. ‘I don’t want you to get hurt.’

I moved to follow Dad. ‘No one’s going to get hurt.’

Mum was one step behind me as I stomped up the stairs.

If Mum had spotted me looking at Seth, he might have noticed too.

Humiliation carried me straight through the large double doors.

Inside, I stopped and my mouth fell open. Seth and Dad were ahead; they waited on the carpet at the top of a sweeping staircase that peeled off in two directions. The carpet was the colour of weeds, the wood something dark . . . mahogany maybe. The light that spilled in from the windows, already rain-washed, was absorbed into the pile and gave the place a murky look, as if we stood in a cavern.

On the ground floor the carpet arced around the staircase and disappeared into dark glass doors to both left and right. Embossed plaques hung over each entrance. To my right the brass was etched with
Dining
,
Leisure
,
Classrooms
. To my left it simply said
Treatment Area
.

Seth waved his free hand. ‘I’ll give you the tour later.’

My trainers whispered on the stairs and I trailed my fingertips along the banister as I climbed. The wood was smooth and unmarked. My hand twitched with the sudden urge to find some way of making an impression on the indifferent wood and stone. Suddenly dizzy I blinked and had to shake my head to clear it.

Seth twisted to the left and his scar stood out over his skin like
a wire. ‘Boys’ accommodation.’ He nodded right as Mum stretched to see past him. ‘Girls’. We each have our own room.’ He glanced at the bags under my eyes. ‘I guess you know why the rooms here aren’t shared.’

I nodded and a small weight lifted from my chest. I’d been wondering if I’d have a roommate. For some reason I’d pictured Mount Hermon as an old-fashioned boarding school, with ranks of bunk beds lined against a wall.

Seth opened the door on his right. The corridor curved ahead and I inhaled. ‘How many rooms
are
there?’

Seth cocked his head. ‘Do you mean how many patients?’ I nodded and he shifted the weight of my bag. ‘These rooms aren’t all full. With you, there are eight of us: four girls, four boys. I’m the oldest, Lenny’s ten.’

‘That’s so young.’ I tried to imagine what it would be like to be ten and in this place, but a girl’s shriek interrupted me.

‘Kyle!’

A door slammed, Seth grunted and I threw myself against the wall as a slim boy bounded round the corner. He looked like a miniature rocker, with spiked black hair, skinny black jeans
and big boots. A grin split his lips and, although they were deep set, his eyes were a brighter green than the carpet.

He wielded a camera phone in one hand as he skidded to a halt next to Seth. ‘My man!’

Seth shook himself and glanced at my parents. ‘What’re you doing, Kyle?’

‘Double Dares.’ He tucked the phone into his jeans.

‘Not Lizzie’s stupid game . . . where is she?’

‘Where d’you think she is? Doing the boys’ side.’

Seth frowned towards the boys’ accommodation and, I assumed, his own room. He opened his mouth, but just then a girl pounded after Kyle. ‘Get back here, you gargoyle. When I’ve torn off your arms I’m gonna smash that phone with the stumps.’

‘Gotta go, man.’ Kyle ducked past Dad and hit the doors running.

When the girl saw us she dug the toes of her boots into the carpet to bring herself to a halt. She was bright red and shaking. Even the tips of her ears, rimmed with silver studs, were glowing. ‘I’m not finished with you,’ she shouted as Kyle leaped down the stairs.

Moving closer to my parents I stared unashamedly. The girl was worth looking at.

Her eyes were the colour of faded denim and lined with thick kohl. Peroxide-white hair was cut pixie short and spiked around her ears and forehead. It framed the studs that marched up her lobes and the single bar that bisected her eyebrow. She wasn’t wearing any other make-up. She hadn’t even tried to conceal the bags under her eyes.

It’s like she’s proud of them or something.

I scoped out her clothes. While Seth wore Diesel jeans and a pressed Superdry shirt, the girl wore faded, ripped low riders of no particular label in a style that had gone out of fashion two years ago. One tight top was layered over another in a way that almost, but didn’t quite, hide an ancient stain and she displayed a tarnished silver necklace in the shape of a dragon. I glanced at her hands and saw that she wore silver rings on every finger, even her thumbs.

The anger faded from her eyes and she appraised me just as openly. There was silence for a beat then she raised her eyebrows. She didn’t hold out a hand, but gestured to herself with one thumb. ‘I’m Pandra.’

‘Cassie.’

‘The Doctor said you were coming. You’re in the room next to mine. I’ll show you.’

Seth stepped forward and the atmosphere thickened. ‘Then you can take the bag.’ There was open hostility in his voice.

Pandra sneered. ‘I don’t do baggage.’

‘It’s okay. I’ll carry it.’ I tried to take the bag from Seth, but he lifted it out of my reach.

‘Let’s just go.’ He glared at Pandra’s retreating back. It was obvious something had gone on between the two of them. My stomach lurched unhappily and I stomped the feeling down.

I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, and anyway, why should I care?

Pandra halted outside a closed door. ‘This is you.’ She rapped the wood with a closed fist. ‘Come and say hi once you’re settled.’

She disappeared into the room next to mine. As her door closed I tried, and failed, to see inside. When I turned back I realised the whole party had watched her go, including Seth. She drew attention like a wasp at a picnic.

I shook my head and pushed my own door. Nothing happened.

‘Here.’ Seth handed me a smooth white card. ‘This is your key.
It acts like a credit card too, for meals and other stuff. There are some things you can do to get credit added to it, if you want.’

Sure enough there was a slot in the frame. With fingers that trembled only a little I used the card to enter the room that would be my home from now on.

Weak rain-light poured in through the barred windows and striped the white bedding. My gaze followed the lines of shadow to the shafts embedded in the sill and I pulled at my collar, which suddenly felt much too tight. ‘It looks like a prison cell.’

Mum stroked my ponytail, a gesture she hadn’t made in a long time. ‘It’ll be alright. Look there’s a DVD player; we’ll post you some films.’

Seth dumped my bag on the bed. ‘You can borrow some of mine while you wait, if you like.’

I was sceptical. ‘What have you got?’

‘You think I wake up in the night and watch
Alien vs. Predator
? It’s all light entertainment.’ He gave me an unreadable look. ‘You can come and take a look later.’

Mum huffed and Seth backed towards the door, talking rapidly. ‘I’d better tell you the rules: we’re allowed to mix in each other’s rooms during the day but, from nine p.m., boys and girls
remain in their own wings. The treatment area is off limits unless you have an appointment. You’ll find your schedule in the folder on your desk.’

He stopped with his back to the door. ‘There’re two buttons in the unit beside your bed. The red one is a panic button – if you wake up in the night and need help you can press it. The night nurse will come in, turn on the light for you, whatever.’ He was feigning nonchalance but his eyes had darkened.

‘What about the other button?’

His lips thinned. ‘The white one connects to a recorder. When you wake in the night you have to press that button and record everything you can remember from your dreams.’

‘Are you serious?’ My own breath trembled in my ears as Seth exhaled.

‘I know . . . it’s horrible. You want to think about something else, not relive the storyline. But it’s an important part of the treatment.’ He tensed. ‘If the Doctor finds a tape empty in the morning, she wants to know why.’

I wanted to ask more. I didn’t know when I’d next be able to speak to him, and I wanted to make the most of my chance, but Mum slammed my suitcase open meaningfully.

‘I’ll give you the full tour another time.’ Seth backed into the corridor and the closing door shut him off. I glanced at the barred window again. I was inside the Doctor’s treatment centre, but I was not alone.

For the first time since I’d spoken to the police about Zillah’s grave my spirits started to rise.

A
n hour later Mum had hung all my clothes in the small wardrobe, laid my toiletries out in the tiny en-suite bathroom and run out of reasons to stay. Dad had spent the time on the single armchair, the treatment schedule open on his lap.

Finally, as if her batteries had run down, Mum stopped.

My heart clenched. ‘I’ll be okay, you know.’

Mum nodded and Dad crossed the floor to her. ‘Come on, Marie, she’s here to get better and that’s what’ll happen.’ He flicked his fingers towards the folder and spoke to me. ‘Some of these treatments are going to be hard on you, love, but if you were going to get better quickly and easily, you’d have done it years ago. We’d have made sure of it.’ He lowered his voice. ‘You’re strong enough to have coped with the nightmares all this time so we know you can face this.’ He gave Mum a shake and she responded with a tiny nod. ‘We topped up your mobile but it doesn’t look like you’ll get any reception here, so you’ll need to call from the payphone downstairs. You can phone us any time, day or night,
and we can be here in a few hours, if you really need us.’

His tone didn’t match his words.

He expects me to get better, not call him in the middle of the night.

I stared at a spot on the floor. ‘I’m sure I’ll be fine. If you want to be home by dark, you should go.’

Dad nodded but Mum opened her handbag. ‘Here. I noticed you didn’t pack him . . . but . . .’

She’s brought Bunny!
I hesitated before holding out my hand.
I thought it’d be embarrassing to have a cuddly toy with me, but . . . maybe it’ll be good to have him tonight.

‘Th-thanks, Mum.’ I seized my old toy and my stomach unfurled a little.