beats per minute (14 page)

Her breath was coming so thick and fast that it took a
moment for Declan’s voice to break through.

‘That’s a lot of effort to go through to hand me the race!’
His mocking tones rose up, bouncing tinnily off the trees. ‘You could’ve just
lain down right here in the middle of the track!’

The last few words got quieter and quieter, as did the
pounding of his feet. He hadn’t slowed down at all.

Couldn’t he feel it? She thought. They weren’t supposed to
go any further down that path, she was sure of it. Was he just so obsessed with
beating her that he didn’t care?

Jerk. She pushed Declan out of her mind. Instead she focused
on the key principle of completing the Labyrinth; the one that Rico had drilled
into them again and again.
Keep moving forward.
When your surroundings told
you not to take the obvious route, you didn’t give up, you found a way around
it. This was just another obstacle the Labyrinth was throwing her way: forcing
her to make her own new path rather than following the obvious one.

So all she could do now was focus on swinging smoothly from
one branch to the next above the path. Keep moving forward.
Even
though the feeling of total wrongness, like being physically repelled, did not
stop.
In fact it only grew worse as she drew nearer to the light.  

But it was nothing compared to what she felt when she pushed
the final canopy of leaves out of the way to reveal the end of the path. It had
opened out into a clearing, as she’d guessed. That was where her expectations
ended.

One of the
Fay
was waiting.

One that she thought she’d never have to see again.

A great flame of icy fear seemed to whoosh up her body,
nearly toppling her from the branch. Her slackening fingers, weak with panicked
dread, didn’t belong to her any more. She wobbled dangerously in mid-air.

It couldn’t be. It just
couldn’t.
This had to be
another test.

But there was Declan, a little way off, slumped on the
grass. He had gotten here first.
Whistled past her without a
thought of slowing down.
Into the lead.
And
straight into an unknown and open space; something their teachers had cautioned
them against.

Straight into the Fay.

Declan wasn’t moving but the Fay was getting closer to him,
tracing a path with slow, stealthy movements. He wasn’t in any hurry. When he
reached Declan’s side, as if glorying in the moment, Christian turned his thin,
cruel face to the sky.

Just in time to catch the sharp end of tree branch whistling
toward him, which Raegan drove down and down until it was half-buried in his
throat.

Chest heaving, she reached for him before he could traverse
– it shouldn’t be possible within the compound but if he had made it this far,
who knew what he could do – ramming the branch further into his gullet, not
caring as blood, hot and dark, sprayed all over. She could hear her breath,
hysterical, rasping, but she held the branch in place.

‘I’m a bit stronger now, aren’t I, you bastard! How did you
find me?’ the words came out in a scream. ‘What are you doing here?
Answer
me!
’

His reply was an awful gurgling sound, bubbles of red
bursting out of the wound and over her fingers as they held the stick in place.
Then she realised he was slithering from her grasp, and made to hold tighter,
but suddenly it wasn’t just that he was slippery with blood, he was fading,
disintegrating, somehow-

And then he was gone. Her hands, still red, were empty. The
sodden stick clattered to the floor.

‘It was a test.
Cooked up by the mages.’
 Declan didn’t sound surprised.

‘Oh.’

‘You didn’t get the kill, anyway. Guess one good hit was all
they were looking for.’

‘I thought- I thought-’ Raegan’s whole body began to shake
uncontrollably, hands twitching and jerking like bloodied spiders. ‘I thought
it was him. I thought he was going to do it again – like he did to…’

Raegan couldn’t bring herself to say her name. Instead she
looked at Declan, who was still motionless on the grass. ‘Did he hurt you?’

‘I just told you. It wasn’t real. The race is still going.’
He tried to pull himself up, grasping awkwardly at clumps of earth to avoid
putting pressure on his ankle, which looked swollen and tender.

Raegan was too shaken up to care much about her race time.
‘That injury looks pretty real to me. Did you twist your ankle?’

She walked back to where Declan lay.

‘Are you okay? Let me-‘

‘What are you doing?’ Declan’s mudspattered face was
anything but grateful. ‘I just told you the race was still going.’

Raegan leaned back, stung. ‘I thought you needed help.’

‘You’re not supposed to stop for anything!’ Declan pulled
himself into an awkward crouch, wincing. ‘Once the mirage was out of the way
you were supposed to keep going – not come back over here!’

‘Look, I don’t think you should move-’

‘Get off me!’ He recoiled from her touch as violently as if
he’d been burnt. ‘I don’t
want
your help. Just focus on your own race
and leave me the hell alone!’

Using a log for support, Declan had staggered to his feet.
His blazing eyes were now level
with her own
. She had
to push her palms against her legs to quell the shaking, but she stood her
ground.

‘Fine.’
Rage rose like bile inside
her, more powerful even than the raw hatred she felt for the Fay.

To hell with the rain, and being careful,
and thinking things through.
Choosing the path furthest away from where
Declan stood, Raegan set off at a run and paid no attention to who might be
following her.

***

Small, muddy puddles formed in her wake as Bree marched into
the kitchen at Centurion House.

‘I’m no stranger to bad weather, having lived in England for
most of my life, but this is ridiculous.’ she announced, teeth dazzlingly white
against her dirt-caked face. ‘I think Rico should have called it off.’

‘Bree,’ Yali was gently reproving. ‘He is your optio.’

‘Don’t remind me.’ She sat delicately at the table and began
to wipe her face with a tea-towel. ‘Sam is staying out there and we’ll switch
over soon.’ She flashed her teeth at Robert. ‘Made no sense for us both to be
getting drenched – visibility is so poor, all we can do is stand there to
monitor the finish. Just in case you thought I was shirking my duties.’

‘I thought no such thing.’ Robert handed her a mop. ‘But you
seem to have brought half the course in with you, cadet.
Clean-up
duty.’

Rolling her eyes, Bree whisked around the room with a mop.
She moved preternaturally quickly. When finished, she used the handle of the
mop to flick the tea towel into the sink, and then lofted the mop over Robert’s
head, where it landed neatly in the pail.

‘All done.’

He raised an eyebrow. ‘Perhaps not the most appropriate use
of your powers.’

‘I’m not domesticated.’ She shot back. ‘If it gets the job
done more quickly, I’ll try it.’

Yali patted the seat beside him.
‘Enough
squabbling.
Come sit, Bree, and take a look at your charges.’

‘How are they?’

‘Declan had a bit of a spill,’ Robert stood behind Yali’s
chair, looking over their shoulders at the screen. ‘I think there could be a
leg injury there.’

Yali poured a fresh cup of tea and passed it to Bree,
adding, ‘The girl stopped – to check his wellbeing, I think.’

‘Raegan stopped?’ She frowned. ‘Rico won’t like that.’

‘It was a kindness,’ Yali protested. ‘We must encourage new
cadets to work together.’

Before Bree could retort, Robert continued smoothly, ‘In any
case, she didn’t stop for long. And despite Declan’s fall, he pressed on after
too much delay. He’s not far behind her.’

Bree nodded her approval.

‘No doubt that both have shown courage,’ Yali stretched his
long arms out behind him gracefully before coiling up once more, wrapping one
hand around his middle and placing the other under his chin. He used this hand
to point at the screen, lightly tracing the edge. ‘They are heading for the
last strait now, correct?’

‘Yes.’ Bree assessed the image. ‘All the paths meet just
before that hill’ she gestured, ‘and then the cadets complete three final
obstacles: an inverted rope descent down into the valley, a climb back up a
rope and a 50 metre sprint toward the finish line.’

Just as Bree was wrapping up her description the window over
the sink flew open, banging loudly against the cupboard and startling the three
as they peered at the small television set. The wind howled in, blowing papers
about madly before Robert managed to close it. He immediately went round the
room locking the remaining doors and windows. The three looked at each other in
alarm.

‘It sounds like a storm.’ Yali’s face was shadowed. ‘I hope
they finish soon.’

Before he had finished speaking, a brilliant flash of light
filled the room. Moments later an ominous rumble sounded.

Bree stood up. ‘‘I better go back. Sam shouldn’t be out
there alone.’

‘I’ll go with you.’ Robert was already putting on his coat.
‘I think we should stop the race and advise the competitors to take cover until
we can get to them.’

‘But the race is nearly over,’ Bree argued. ‘I don’t want
them to be at risk but I can’t see another option; they need to get out of the
woods, and fast.’

‘You might be right. Let me just check-‘

Just then, there was an ominous buzzing sound, and the room
was plunged into darkness.

‘Bloody hell.’

‘Bree, get a torch,’ Yali instructed.
‘Under
the sink.
Robert, we have a freestanding power supply unit in the
emergency kit – the chest in the corner. Please bring that to the table.’

There was a moment of noisy commotion, and a few muffled
curses and crashes as the inhabitants of the room bumped into various objects.
Eventually, Bree clicked the light on, which illuminated Robert placing the
unit on the table.

But even with power the television screen remained sadly
blank.

‘No signal, I imagine.’ Yali announced calmly. ‘The last I
saw, the competitors had already descended into the valley.’

Bree let out a strangled laugh. ‘With all our high-tech mojo
and state of the art weapons, we can’t cope with a little visit from Mother
Nature. This is ridiculous.’

‘It is what it is,’ Robert muttered.

‘Well, whatever. I’m going.’

‘You mustn’t.’ Robert had to yell over the sound of another
thunder clap. His smooth, elocuted tones were unusually ragged. ‘It’s too
dangerous to be out on open land.’

Bree noisily disagreed. All the while, the storm was rising;
soon, the two Regents were shouting at each other incomprehensibly, panic
filling the air.

And then Yali’s booming voice, never raised, cut through it
all. ‘
What is that sound?’

The pair fell silent. Even the wind was momentarily still.

‘What..?’ Bree’s eyes, enormous in the muted flicker of
candlelight, suddenly flickered to top pocket of her jacket. It was vibrating
noisily.

‘The distress call,’ Robert said.

At that moment, there was a loud rapping on the door. Yali’s
face was like a skull as he and Robert gazed at each other, apparently
oblivious to the sound. ‘If there is a need... you know what to do,’ Yali said
softly.

Bree didn’t understand what was going on – the two were
communicating partly without words - and for the first time since she had
become a Level 5, she felt out of control. With shaking hands she opened the
door.

It was Warwick, drenched. He moved inside and pulled her
against him. Warwick was an athlete and extremely fit; but his chest was
heaving. He must have run here at break-neck speed.

‘It’s Raegan,’ he rasped. ‘The rope climb... she was near
the top and she fell...’

‘
Now.’

The order came from Yali, but didn’t seem to; it
reverberated all around, and next there was a smashing sound – Robert had
lifted a large object from the emergency box and flung it against the wall –
and the room was jumping, Bree could hear her heart pounding in her ears, and
reality curled at the edges. Then, it was as if something huge and powerful
flew past, the force of which knocked her and Warwick against the opposite
wall.

It had all happened in a blur of motion; impossibly fast.
Yali was gone.

‘You took your time.’

‘Not now, Con.’ Max’s voice was rough with tiredness. The
hospital room was dim enough that Con could not be sure if the shadows under
Max’s eyes were really as deep and dark as they appeared, but it was obvious
that his friend was exhausted.

‘Trouble in Siberia?’

He shook his head. ‘They’re doing quite well, actually. No,
the trouble is a little closer to home. Makes me glad I shipped the rest of the
Unit out. I’m not sure how much longer we can continue here at Prime.’

Con looked at him sharply. ‘What’s going on?’

‘Don’t ask. You know I can’t-’

‘Not more of this ‘classified’ bullshit, Max, please.’ Con
sounded as irritable as he possibly could, given that they were whispering.
‘I’m not asking you as an employee of the Sentinel. I’m asking you as an old
friend.
As...
a
grandfather.’
The last word caught in his throat.

For the first time their attention wandered to the small,
crumpled figure lying in the nearest bed. A few minutes passed before Con had
recovered enough to speak again.

‘Is she in danger?’

‘The Fay
haven’t
found us – yet.
But they’re getting close. The number of sightings in Ireland is increasing
faster than we can manage. They attacked again tonight.’

‘Where?’

‘Near Cork.’
Max’s jaw was so rigid
with tension that his mouth barely moved. Con suddenly appreciated the strain
that he was under. ‘It was bad,
Con
.’

‘And the Regent from that area-‘

‘Dead.
They’re all dead.’

Max answered Con’s next question before he could ask,
speaking so quickly it was hard to make out. ‘They got Silvia.’

She had been one of Max’s favourites. Con knew her well
enough to ascertain that this was also a worrying indication of a growing
threat. Silvia had been one of the most fearsome Regents in the Sentinel’s
arsenal. The Fay
were
getting stronger.

‘I’m sorry.’

They stood in silence for a moment, heads bowed in respect
to their departed friend.

‘We have to protect the cadets from this,’ Max said finally.
‘They cannot know. The Unit should be a safe haven. Secure.’

Con’s reply was swift and unforgiving. ‘You’ve already
failed there. Just look at her.’

Max did not argue. Instead he moved closer to the bed,
studying Raegan’s unconscious form as Con instructed. ‘How is she?’

‘You tell me. You’re the one with all the fancy Healer
reports and what have you. I’m not even supposed to be here – as you so
politely reminded me when we spoke earlier.’

‘There are rules, Conall-‘

‘I don’t give
a stuff
. I know the
training is dangerous, that you have to take risks, prepare the cadets for what
awaits them in the real world – but she hasn’t even been here a week, Max!’

Again Max did not reply directly. Con wondered if he was
lost for words. Unless… could it be that his ruthless friend actually felt a
smidgen of guilt?

‘My Tribune himself retrieved her from the Labyrinth. This
should prove how seriously we are taking her wellbeing. Whatever care she is
being assigned, I’ll double it.
Whatever it takes.’

‘Triple it.’

Con felt the light pressure of a hand on his arm.

‘She will be okay, Con.’
For
a
moment, stripped of artifice, Max looked like the boy Con once knew; the friend
he remembered.

He hoped he could trust him now.

‘Please, Max. Please. Protect her.’

***

Raegan was flying. Over fields and mountains she raced,
swooping down low enough to skim the water of the winding rivers with her fingers.
Marie and her mother, high above, danced among the stars. They were waiting.

Then it was as if she suddenly remembered that she didn’t
know how to fly. She was falling, falling... and the beauty around her bled
into darkness.

Years passed before her feet touched solid ground.

She was alone. She was blind.

Then the damned ticking started.

 She wanted it to stop. If only she could remember
where the clock was – if only she could see – she could make it stop. She
pressed her hand to her ears, and opened her mouth to shout-

The cold intrusion of a finger against her lips stopped
her. She started. There, in front of her, was a girl in a pale blue nightgown,
her feet peeking out minutely from the swathes of material. The curious light
in her liquid black eyes seemed to fill the darkness.

 She could see! Though Raegan did not recognise her
companion, she smiled at her with euphoria. The girl’s teeth gleamed like tiny
pearls. She held out her hand.

A ticking clock awaited; the old-fashioned watch her grandfather
still kept on a chain in his pocket. The girl tapped a finger to her nose.

Then, without any warning, she threw the clock into the
darkness. Raegan jumped back, certain the world would collapse around her ears.
But there was no destruction. There was creation.

A door, materialising out of nowhere.
What should she do? She turned to ask the girl – but she was gone.

And then the door flew open. Out came a stream of beings,
hoods masking their faces; on and on, they poured out, rushing toward her, filling
the small, precious space. She tried to take a step backwards, to escape, but
the floor beneath her feet had become a ledge jutting out into blackness and
she was teetering on the edge.

Their white hands were outstretched, they were mumbling,
chanting...she knew a white hot blaze of panic...

A hand on her arm.

‘Time to go, I think.’

That funny Mr Fettes was on the other side of the ledge.
Standing on thin air.
He reached for her.

‘I can’t.’ She was afraid.

‘You can. You will fall, and that will bring you to your
senses. Come to me.’

They were closing in, now. All around was black with the
material of their cloaks. She was suffocating in darkness.

‘Raegan, please!’

The sound of his voice was like a chink of light – she
leaped toward it-

‘Argh!’

Raegan awoke, on the floor, with an unpleasant thud and the
sensation of cold stone beneath her bum.

Her first realisation was that everything – absolutely
everything – hurt. Not just her rump from where she had landed, but her head,
her shoulders, her arm... her eyes drifted down to inspect the damage. Her arm
was in a cast, and gave an almost indignant throb as she looked at it. The
opposite wrist was also bandaged.

Her second realisation, as her eyes gradually adjusted to
the absence of light, was that she was in some sort of hospital.

And she wasn’t alone.

‘Don’t get up, please,’ she grumbled, heaving herself back
into bed painfully, which took some serious effort when both arms were not
working properly. It gave the phrase ‘leg-work’ a whole new meaning. ‘I’d hate
to stress you out, Grandda.’

It was gloomy but she could just about make him out, perched
on the window-ledge. His grin was wide.

‘This is a high security facility, you know,’ Con shrugged.
‘I’m not really supposed to visit at night. Have to keep a low profile.’

He waggled his feet, which were a few inches off the ground.
‘Max told me I should stay outside, in fact... but as long as my feet don’t
touch the floor I shouldn’t set off any alarms.’

She wanted to ask what that meant, but her brain and mouth
seemed disconnected and sluggish. Finally, she managed to ask, ‘But won’t you
get in trouble?’

‘I don’t care. Someone’s got to watch over you, lass. Left
to your own accord, you only hurt yourself.’

A wave of tiredness swept over her, so strong that she could
feel her eyes closing against her will. ‘What happened to me? I can’t
remember...’

‘Sleep, sweet girl.’

Suddenly her eyes flew open. ‘Mr Fettes!’

Even in the dark, Con looked shifty. ‘What do you mean?’

‘He was in my dream.’

‘Aye... and what was this dream about?’

‘Well, I think I was flying…erm. That doesn’t matter.
 He was there.
Larger than life.’

‘Raegan.’
Con leaned onto his
knees, as far forward as he could without overbalancing. ‘You just said you
dreamed about flying, sure. The Pope could have appeared in your dream. What of
it?’

‘It was real. Not the dream.
But him.
He was floating in the air like a… genie.’ Raegan stopped speaking, realising
miserably that it sounded pretty far-fetched. ‘Did I hit my head? Is that why
I’m in here?’

Con smiled. ‘Relax. It’s not good for you to get yourself
worked up.’

‘I’m completely loony, aren’t I.’
Her
head ached from the effort of talking.

‘Not completely.’ Con cleared his throat. ‘In fact, this
isn’t the first time Mr Fettes has appeared in your dreams – even if you don’t
remember it.’

 ‘What? Why?’

‘Don’t get excited. Lie back.
‘ When
he was satisfied that she was settled, he carried on.
‘Because
I wanted to know if you were having the dreams, Raegan.
You see, as well
as being an old and dear friend, Mr Fettes is also a curious type of being
known as a sandblower.’

This didn’t ring any bells with Raegan, but then the room
was beginning to go in and out of focus. She closed her eyes.

‘Sandblowers have the ability to see into people’s dreams.
They can also be in several places at once – if the energies are right. Sort of
like astral projection. That probably sounds more exciting than it actually is.
See, sandblowers are reliant on vessels to channel their powers through,
vessels they themselves make.
Always crafted out of glass.
It was a bottle on your dressing table that has allowed him to access your mind
at night...this bottle, in fact.’ He slid it out of his jacket pocket
sheepishly.

Raegan made a small sound of protest.

‘I know. I am sure when you are at your full strength you
will be very angry at me. I placed the bottle there; I invaded your privacy.
But I was desperate. Your father and mother had tried to keep you hidden from
the Sentinel for so long. Though I disagreed with their choice I felt that
there was nothing I could now do but continue to mask your true identity. But I
knew the Sentinel would be looking for you, and I knew that if you dreamt of
their mages it would mean they were close.’

‘Mages?’
Raegan was fighting the
silky mist of unconsciousness that was lapping at the edge of her vision. With
a determined effort, she forced her eyes open.

‘The Sentinel
have
a team of
magickal experts in their employ. The hooded figures that you saw in your dream
were shamans, attempting to trace you. Mr Fettes accessed your sleeping mind.
He told me everything. I knew, then, that your parents’ theory was incorrect;
that nothing could stop the Awakening. There had also been reported sightings
of several Fay in our area. And so I gave you the locket, to protect you.’

‘Because a Regent’s essence is more appealing to the Fay,’
Raegan sighed, repeating the words Ingmar had spoken in a recent History class.
‘Do you think Christian knew what I was, and that was why Marie-‘

‘No.’ Con leaned forward again. ‘You know that a Fay cannot
feed off a human younger than sixteen.’

‘Yes.
Too young to have a fully-formed
essence.’

‘Though this does not always stop a Fay from trying – often
the younger the life-force, the more potent and delectable to them. But trying
to feed off a being younger than sixteen will certainly kill the human,
quickly, and in most cases will drag the Fay down with them. The Fay
steal
time partly out of a terrible fear of death. The risk
is enough to keep the vast majority at bay.’

‘My age saved me.’ The words were drunken and slow.

‘Yes. But your powers were beginning to form, and your
essence was beginning to grow brighter and brighter; and though he would not
have been able to discern what you were becoming, Christian would have found
you more attractive than any other because of that.’

‘He knew it was my birthday.’

‘Is that so? That, too, was unfortunate.’

Raegan could not even respond now. The tug of sleep was too
strong.

‘Rest.
Try and remember that Mr
Fettes is a good man, and will never access your mind unless there is no other
option. He helped bring you back to us tonight.’

She managed a whisper. ‘Don’t go.’

‘Your Praetor may have something to say about that. I think
this will be the last time he permits such an intrusion. But I will watch over
you until dawn.
Sleep, mo chroi.’

***

Sleep she did. It was feverish and long; she seemed vaguely
aware of the light changing several times, of murmured voices around her, of
hands on her head, over her heart, and of faces close to her own. At one point,
she thought she opened her eyes to lock with another pair: her mother’s, deep
green, and troubled.

She must have drifted back off. When she came to again, the
circular room was empty; a blinding sea of white with several other empty beds,
lined with narrow windows.

Perched on the end of the bed was Bree, almost
unrecognisable out of her black fatigues in a white vest and slouchy green
combats, thick hair piled loosely on her head. She looked up from her magazine
with a smile. ‘Hey! You’re awake.’

Raegan’s throat felt so dry she could only gasp for water.