Erebos (44 page)

Nick unfolded the note. Read, without understanding. Read again.

‘And do you think it's true?' Victor asked.

No. Or was it? Probably. It added up. Nick stared at the paper, full of helpless rage.

Brynne Farnham interfered with the brakes on Jamie Cox's bike.

‘If that's put up around your school, this Brynne Farnham is history, whether she did it or not,' Victor said. ‘Speedy and I have spent hours discussing what we should do. If the posters don't appear, then he's definitely going to get kicked out of the game, right?'

Nick felt numb; his lips were numb too, and barely capable of forming a reply. Brynne. That's why she'd been so distraught. That's why she had bailed out. He wished he hadn't found out. He wished Emily were here and he didn't have to decide this by himself.

‘I'll text Brynne. She's still at school.' Nick got his phone and typed a text:
Ring me. Urgent.

‘She'll contact me as soon as she can, I'd say. Can I have some tea in the meantime?'

Victor darted into the kitchen.

‘By the way, I've signed Kate on as a novice,' Speedy told him. ‘She's doing well. She's a dark elf, like you used to be.'

Nick smiled, and even that was an effort. He wasn't capable of conversation. The thoughts were turning over in his head so fast he could hardly follow them. If it had been Brynne, then she deserved the poster campaign, most definitely. Except that she looked as though she was about to crack any second. The school was seven storeys high, and suddenly Nick could imagine Brynne jumping . . .

If Speedy didn't carry out his orders, he was out. There were huge numbers of witnesses in Nick's school, and not a single one would report seeing any posters. Quox or Brynne. Brynne or Quox.

Nick propped his head in his hands. Where was Emily? He didn't want to take sole responsibility for what would happen to Brynne. He felt sorry for her – and at the same time he hated her the instant he thought of Jamie. So how could he make a good decision?

Victor returned with a tray full of assorted cups and a steaming teapot. ‘Yesterday was a most instructive day. We were camped in the shade of a temple, and the gnomes were constantly harping on about how we should be on our guard because we were right near Ortolan's fortress. Then suddenly every creature imaginable leapt out of the bushes and pounced on us – orcs, zombies, giants, the whole deal. Some of us took a lot of damage.' He poured tea into the cups; the fragrance spread around the room. ‘I get the impression that things are drawing to a close. But I still can't make sense of them. It's enough to make you weep. Tomorrow I'll try —'

Nick's phone rang. He took a deep breath. It was Brynne.

‘Hi, Nick! Have you changed your mind?'

‘No.' Why did he have so much saliva in his mouth all of a sudden? ‘Where are you?'

‘In the park opposite the school.'

‘Alone?'

‘Yes.'

‘I've found out something that I have to talk to you about.'

‘Ah. Okay.' Could she hear the impending disaster in his voice? Or was she completely oblivious?

‘It's about Jamie. I know now that his accident was not an accident. Someone interfered with his bike. Tell me, Brynne, was it you?'

There was a long pause. Nick could hear Brynne breathing.

‘What?' she finally whispered. ‘Why . . . why would it be me?'

‘Just answer yes or no.'

‘No! Where did you get that idea from? I . . . no.' Her voice faltered, and Nick could feel the rage rising in him, hot and unstoppable. ‘You're lying. I can hear that you're lying!'

‘No. How would you know anyway? You just want to destroy me, and I haven't even done anything to you!'

Nick exchanged a glance with Victor, who looked like a troubled teddy bear. ‘On the contrary. I want to warn you. It's quite possible that tomorrow morning there'll be posters all over the school for everybody to read, saying that you were the one who sabotaged Jamie's brakes. And that it caused his accident.'

‘What?' She was sobbing, although Nick could hear how much she was trying to get herself under control. ‘B-u-u-t that isn't true.'‘Yes it is,' he said, and was himself astonished at how sure of it he suddenly was. ‘Go on. Say it. Everyone will know by the morning anyway.'

‘No! It wasn't me! Where . . . why would you say such a thing?' The panic in her voice was as thick as syrup.

‘The game says it, and who could possibly know better? It wants everyone to find out.' So much for the triumph, Nick thought. The satisfaction at having collared the person responsible for Jamie's condition. He didn't feel anything of the sort – just pity, and disgust.

‘But I didn't mean for anything terrible to happen!' She was screaming. ‘I only meant him to fall flat on his face, sprain a wrist at most – nothing more! Not —'

Nick suspected that she was seeing the same image in her head as he was: Jamie with twisted limbs in a sea of blood.

‘He rode down the road at such a rate – I even shouted after him, but he didn't hear me, he kept speeding up . . .'

That's my part in this terrible mess, Nick thought.

‘Why did you do it?' he asked hoarsely.

‘Why do you think? Because the messenger wanted me to. He described the bike and how to disconnect the brakes. He even had instructions with pictures.' She gave a short laugh. ‘You can't imagine how often I've wished that I could make it all undone. I'm afraid all the time, day and night. I always dream that he dies. And then he comes to visit me.' She laughed again, a high, uncontrollable little-girl laugh that gave Nick goosebumps.

He looked at Speedy and Victor. ‘Listen,' he said. ‘Perhaps I can stop the business with the posters.'

Speedy nodded. ‘Sure,' he whispered. ‘Quox can have a nice spot in the graveyard. A real hero will gladly sacrifice himself for a lady.'

‘So.' Nick rubbed his forehead. ‘Pay close attention, okay? You're going to come clean about this. To the police, or to Mr Watson, whoever you like. But above all to Jamie, as soon as he's awake. I think things won't be so bad for you then.'

Brynne said nothing for a long time, and when her answer came it was barely audible. ‘I don't know if I can do that. I have to think about it.'

‘One thing's for sure – I'm going to tell Jamie what happened.' If his brain is sufficiently intact to understand me.

‘Yes. Of course.' She almost sounded sensible again. ‘People are coming, Rashid and Alex, I think. I'd better stop talking now. Nick?'

‘Yes?'

‘I didn't want any of this to happen. When I gave you the game, I just wanted to make you happy.'

‘I know.'

‘Can you tell me who you were? As a player, that is?'

‘What for?'

‘Just because. I've often wondered.'

‘Sarius.'

‘Really? I wouldn't have thought of him.' She gave another short sob. ‘I was Arwen's Child.'

Two hours later Emily arrived. She looked tired, but smiled when Nick put his arm around her. He told her all the news about Brynne and was glad she approved of how he'd handled it.

‘Of course it's possible that someone else will be given the poster job,' she observed. ‘But at least she's gained some time. Perhaps she will be smart and go to the police. Why does the game want to get back at her anyway?'

‘She decided to fight Erebos and went round telling everyone about it at school yesterday.'

‘Oh dear. Bad timing. It looks as though something's brewing. Kids are constantly going on about the great goal, and how it's close. Alex, for example. Whereas Colin is acting super secretive. It's very stressful.'

Nick, on the other hand, was finding it much less stressful again since Emily was with him. They spent another hour watching Victor play before they said their goodbyes.

‘Say farewell to Quox,' Speedy sighed. ‘He is destined to meet an early death. A terrible shame – he was such a good boy.'

‘Are we here again tomorrow?' Nick checked on the way out the door.

‘As soon as you have completed your school work. Uncle Victor doesn't want to be responsible for you ending up cleaning toilets.'

CHAPTER 29

There were no posters the next day, and no Brynne either. It wasn't hard to understand why she preferred to stay home. She wouldn't do anything stupid, would she? Nick thought about ringing her, but decided to saddle Mr Watson with the job instead. He spoke to him at recess.

‘Brynne Farnham has been having some difficulties recently. I wanted to let you know – perhaps you could talk to her.'

‘You don't say.' Watson's face was serious, with a hint of reproach, as if he knew that Nick had only told part of the truth. ‘Brynne's mother rang this morning and excused her for this week and the whole of next week. She's in a very fragile state mentally. Apparently she's thinking of changing schools.'

That's another option of course, Nick thought. Running away. He wondered whether she'd told her mother the real reason.

Emily seemed chaotic, and even more tired than the day before. She avoided Nick's questioning looks, but later he found a text on his phone.

Played till 3, received unbearable orders. I'll b kicked out soon,
I'm afraid. Looking forward 2 seeing u! Bye. Emily.

Nick read those five words at least twenty times. She was looking forward to seeing him.

He tried hard to subdue his blissful smile for the rest of the day, but he felt light-hearted – so light-hearted. Soon it would be the afternoon, which meant the prospect of tea at Victor's, maybe with a few new theories, and definitely with Emily. Sometimes life was simply perfect.

The last class was barely over before Nick was running to the Tube station. He would shorten his detour a little today, maybe go two stations in the wrong direction, three at the most, then change and return via the City to King's Cross.

Everything went like clockwork and no-one was behind him – he made sure of that. He was lucky with the connections too – hardly had to wait when he changed trains.

Soon, he thought, as he stood in the crush on the platform at Oxford Circus and heard the train approaching. I'll be there soon. Only three stations away from Emily and from Victor's collection of teacu—

The shove was violent, and came from behind. For a moment Nick didn't understand what was happening; he saw the round Underground logo on the opposite wall coming towards him, heard the screams of people around him, felt the ground vanish from under his feet. In slow motion his foot missed the edge of the platform; he saw the tracks. Realised he was going to fall onto the rails. Heard the train, tried to regain his balance, clutched at thin air. Lights were shining out of the dark of the tunnel. People were screaming.

‘Soon,' Nick's earlier thought echoed in his head with a dreadful new meaning.

Then something tore at him. The train? No, a hand. Pulled him up, flung him onto the platform as the train thundered into the station.

People all around him, lots and lots of voices.

‘He was pushed!'

‘No, I would've seen it.'

‘That's what comes of everyone shoving.'

‘No, it was on purpose! The bloke ran away.'

Nick struggled to his feet. A tall man in blue overalls helped him. ‘My God that was close,' the man gasped. ‘I could already see you going under the train.'

Nick didn't get a word out. He swayed, and the man propped him up. Nick held onto his sleeve with both hands, noticed splashes of white paint on blue fabric.

The train departed; most of the people had boarded. Then a policeman in a yellow safety vest arrived and asked questions. Nick struggled to regain his voice. ‘Yes', he thought he'd been pushed. ‘No', he hadn't seen who'd pushed him. ‘Yes', the man in the overalls had saved him. ‘No', he didn't need any medical attention.

The policeman noted everything down, including the name and address of the witnesses – one of whom claimed to have seen a youth with a hood pulled down over his face running away – and he promised to get in touch if the surveillance cameras on the platform yielded any useful footage.

Nick boarded the next train. He could barely feel his legs, put one foot carefully in front of the other. Don't think about it. Think about it later. For now, just breathe in and out. Nick fixed his eyes on the Tube map on the wall of the carriage diagonally opposite. He was grateful for any distraction. The familiar picture was comforting; it reminded him of the guessing game that he used to play on every train trip with his dad. Central Line? Red. Circle Line? Yellow. Piccadilly Line? Dark blue. Victoria Line? Light blue. Hammersmith & City? Pink.

His heartbeat calmed and his breathing slowed. He wasn't dead. He wasn't lying in a coma. He'd think about everything else later.

‘Someone tried to
what
?' Victor had dragged Nick into the sofa room. His moustache was quivering, and Nick almost laughed.

‘Nothing terrible happened.' He looked at Emily's chalk-white face. ‘But I do feel dizzy. Can I have something to drink? Something cold?'

Victor ran into the kitchen; something shattered with a loud crash. Then there were sounds of cursing, banging around and sweeping. ‘We should have travelled here together,' Emily said. She sat beside Nick and put her arms around him.

‘No. Then your cover would have been blown. I'm glad they haven't got you in their sights.'

‘My cover is going to be blown soon enough. I'm certainly not going to carry out my next orders.'

‘What are they?'

‘I don't want to talk about it right now; I'm still too shocked. You could have been killed!'

Victor returned with a giant glass of iced tea.

‘Did you see who it was?' he asked.

‘No. And I don't see how I can possibly know him because I was on my guard the whole time and looking around for our people.'