Half Lost (11 page)

Tired

I wake to see sky. Pale blue. Treetops. Arran's face. He's real. Not a dream. I'm not in a cell. I've not killed any Hunters. It was all just the poison, worse poison than when I was shot in Geneva, but just poison.

“Don't try to move,” Arran says.

“Gabriel?”

“I'm here.” And he touches my hand. And then I realize I don't have the strength to turn my head.

“You're looking better,” Arran says. “How are you feeling?”

I think about it and say, “Better. Not great.” Even speaking is exhausting. “Tired.”

“I need to check this.” And Arran gently pulls back the bandage on my stomach. “It's healing. Slowly. The bullet's out of you but the poison is still in. You have to drive it out. You have to heal yourself. Can you do that?”

I concentrate on healing. Nothing happens.

“Not working,” I manage to mumble.

“It will work. You haven't lost the ability; you've just used up all your energy. You need more rest, more time.”

Arran puts some cold gunk on my wounds, on my stomach and chest, and then a new set of bandages over the top.
He says to Gabriel, “I'll give him more of the potion tonight, to help him sleep. Try to keep him still.” And then to me he says, “You will heal, Nathan. But don't be impatient.”

I close my eyes for a bit. I've never felt like this before. Even when I was shot in Geneva and had to walk back to Mercury's cottage it wasn't as bad as this. That was a magic bullet too. A Hunter bullet. But this is stronger magic.

“Do you want me to talk to you?” Gabriel asks. “Or do you want silence?”

“Talk.”

“OK. What shall I talk about? Do you want me to tell you what happened?”

I nod.

“Was that a nod or a shake of the head?”

“Nod.”

“OK. Well, Donna shot you. She was an infiltrator after all. Celia thinks the whole thing was a set-up—like the Trojan Horse. You were always meant to find that Hunter camp. If the Hunters didn't kill or capture you, they knew you'd take Donna back to the Alliance. She was supposed to join up, gain our trust, and wait for the chance to kill you, but she never got the opportunity until we were at Camp One. After Kirsty was killed, she took her knife and gun. Cut out the special bullet that had been sealed in plastic and sewn into the skin of her thigh.”

Gabriel holds up a small round reddish-brown ball: the bullet. “New magic. And seriously bad. The bullet seems to know where to go once it's inside you. It was heading for
your heart, spreading poison as it moved. Eating away at your insides. It took Celia three attempts to cut it out.”

“Urgh.”

“Exactly. Everyone's very interested in the bullet. A particularly strong magic. A bit like the magic of the Fairborn, Celia thinks. The bullet wants to kill.”

I close my eyes.

“You OK?” Gabriel asks.

“Tired.” And it sounds more like “Tyrrr . . .”

“You want me to talk more or do you want to rest?”

Talk
more
, I mouth.

He smiles. “I like this Nathan who is quiet and enjoys listening to me talk.”

I want to tell Gabriel things, how I like listening to him and like him being here. I can't think what to say in one simple word but I manage to mouth,
Good.

“
And who doesn't swear at me or walk away. This is a situation that has advantages.”

I try to smile, but have to close my eyes I'm so tired. I feel Gabriel stroke my forehead.

“OK. Where was I up to? The bullet. Concealed in her thigh. So Donna cut the bullet out, loaded the gun, and waited for you. She shot you in the stomach. Got the edge of your left lung. She was aiming for a body shot. She knew the bullet would do the rest.”

Gabriel is silent for a few seconds.

“Then it went mad. She'd taken another gun too, with the usual Hunter bullets in it. Nesbitt got hit. Not seriously,
just in the arm. But I'm sure he'll let you know that he took a bullet for you. Adele used her Gift, made her skin like metal and protected Nesbitt and shot Donna. Donna's dead. I didn't see it. I didn't see much of the fight I mean. I . . . the way you flew through the air, the way you landed and then . . . you screamed. You screamed a lot.”

I thought I'd held it back.

“Hurt,” I tell him.

He pauses then asks, “Does it still hurt?”

I think about it. Think about my body. The bad pain has gone. I ache all over but nothing bad. I force myself to sound stronger and say, “Just tired.”

“So. Let me finish the story. You were shot. Nesbitt was shot. Adele was the heroine of the day. Celia cut into you three times and eventually got the bullet out. You were a mess. A bloody mess. Adele cut the bullet out of Nesbitt's arm, only it seems that she's less good at first aid and she took a big chunk out of Nesbitt too. Stop smiling! He has a really ugly scar.”

I wonder what new scars I've got from all this.

“Anyway, Celia made this stretcher out of wood and our jackets in about ten seconds and we carried you back to the cut. Do you remember that?”

I think about it and then shake my head.

“Well, you were out of it by then. Anyway, we came through the cut and made camp where we came out. And here we still are, exactly where we landed ten days ago.”

“Ten?”

“Ten.”

“Urgh.”

“Celia sent Adele to get Arran and he started work on a cure for the poison. The magic is in making the bullet move to your heart. The poison is straight poison, but powerful.”

Gabriel talks some more about the poison but I can't concentrate. He goes quiet and then says, “You should sleep now.”

But I don't want to sleep, I don't want to go back to the cell. I tell him, “Bad dreams.”

I close my eyes and feel him stroke the hair from my forehead. He says, “I'll stay with you.”

I want to thank him and I open my eyes to see him looking at me. His eyes are full of tears.

I Want It to Be True

I have three more scars, though typical of Celia they're straight and neat. The wounds are almost healed but it's another four days before I've got the energy to get up and move slowly around camp. And we are in a camp now. One that has grown around me, it seems. There are some people I recognize and some I don't.

I sit and watch the trainees train. I'm cold and stuff my hands in my jacket pockets. I feel a bullet in each. The original Hunter bullet that Marcus took out of my back in Switzerland is a greeny copper color and the magic bullet that Celia dug out of my chest is a browny red. They are the same size and weight. I expected the magic bullet to have a life about it, a buzz, like the Fairborn does, but it feels like any other bullet: just a dead piece of metal. Maybe it only comes to life when it's inside someone, when it tastes blood. And I know the man who made the Fairborn must have been evil; Wallend made the magic bullet and his magic is evil too.

Nesbitt comes to sit with me. He's healed too now—at least his arm has. He's different: quiet, subdued.

After a few minutes he says, “I'm leaving.”

“Leaving?”

“Leaving here, the Alliance. Leaving it all.”

It doesn't surprise me as I think he was only ever here because of Van. But I'll miss him and so will the Alliance; he's a great fighter and the best tracker. “Where will you go?”

“Back home. Australia, I mean. Haven't been back there for years.” He laughs to himself. “Shit, last time I was there was before you were born.”

As usual I don't know what to say. Nesbitt adds, “I won't miss you.”

I smile and nudge his shoulder. “Me neither.”

We sit quietly for a minute and then I ask, “When are you going?”

“Soon. Can't stand it here now. Need a change of scene.” Then quietly he adds, “I want Soul dead and all his evil cronies, but . . . I can't do it, not without Van. I'm . . .”

He shakes his head and rubs his eyes and doesn't finish what he was saying.

* * *

The next morning I'm feeling better at last. My healing is finally getting back to its normal strength and by the afternoon I heal myself and get a buzz from it. I actually feel good.

I tell Gabriel, “My healing's working. Back to like it was.”

“Good.”

“I've been thinking. About the amulet and stuff. I'm going to go for it.”

Gabriel frowns.

“I didn't think you'd be pleased, but you must agree it's sensible. If the amulet works I'll be protected. I want to avoid dying. I thought you'd want that too.”

“There are other ways of avoiding dying.”

“You still want to leave. Like Nesbitt? Go to Australia?”

“I think you should at least consider it. I mean properly consider it. We could go anywhere. It doesn't matter where, but somewhere away from this war.”

“I have a feeling that wherever I go the war will follow me.”

“You always say that but you never try it. You say they'll follow you. Track you down. Well, maybe they won't.”

“My father had to move every few months.”

“That was him, not you.”

“It would be the same, I know it.” And I remember Marcus and his den, the peace of it, and I loved being with him there. But he could never relax, not truly. He was always on the run. Even so, I know he would have continued to evade them. It was me that brought him to the Alliance. It's because of me that Marcus is dead. Annalise shot him but I brought him to the Alliance. I asked for his help. And he asked me for something too.

I tell Gabriel, “My father said I should kill them all.”

“It's for you to decide what to do. He shouldn't have said that.”

“Part of me is him, Gabriel. Part of me is so like him and that part of me wants to kill them all, wants revenge, in full. No half measures. But another part of me, the White
Witch part, the logical part, says . . . that will only bring on more killing, and it will never end.”

“And your father's side is winning the argument but your mother never has a chance to give her side.”

I shake my head. “I don't know if she'd disagree. Her life was fucked up by the White Witches as much as mine has been, maybe more.”

“And so?”

“And so I intend to fuck theirs up too.”

“And would you go if Annalise wasn't there? Is this really about getting her?”

I shake my head. “I hate her and I want justice for my father. But this isn't about Annalise. I'd do it even if she wasn't there. Even if she was already dead. I want an end to the war, an end to Soul, an end to all of those who side with him.”

“Well, you might not be able to kill them all, Nathan. You're not all-powerful. And there's only one of you. Soul has a whole army.”

“It won't matter how big an army he has if he can't hurt me.”

“War hurts, Nathan. It's not just physical wounds. It screws you up. It screws everyone up.”

“Even you?”

“Of course even me. I've killed people. I've watched our friends die. I've watched you nearly die and every day it hurts me and . . . I see how it hurts you.”

“Would you leave for me, if it was the other way around?”

I don't know why I ask that as I expect him to say yes straightaway but he thinks about his answer and then says, “I'm not sure. I'm not even sure if that question makes sense to me. I think the question should be: what would I do if I was in your shoes? And all I know is that you've been through a lot, you've suffered a lot because of these people, and if I was standing where you are I'd probably do the same thing. I'm not against what you want to do, Nathan. I want you to be sure about it, because you won't be the same person afterward.”

“I am sure of it, Gabriel. But I'd like you to stay with me. Help me.”

“Of course. You know I'll stay with you. Always.”

* * *

I go to see Celia to tell her my plan, though as usual it's not much of a plan, more of a vague intention, but I also want to discuss something else with her.

I tell her, “Van thought that Soul wanted me alive. She thought he wanted to use me as a weapon.”

“Yes. I discussed that with her and I agree. I don't know Soul well, but the little I saw of him makes me believe that once he sets his mind on something he'll go after it. I think he's set his mind on controlling you. Having you in his power.”

“And yet he sent Donna to kill me.”

Celia gives a small shake of her head. “No. Donna was
working with the Hunters. She was sent by Jessica. I imagine Jessica spotted her and trained her. I wouldn't be surprised if Soul didn't know anything about her.”

“I thought the bullet must have been made by Wallend.”

“Possibly it was. I don't know. But I'm sure Soul would rather have you alive and I'm equally sure that Jessica wants you dead. The Hunters and Council work together but the Hunters always believe they are superior to the Council and the Council must always be careful to control the Hunters and not give them too much power.”

“I wonder if Jessica would want to take over the Council.”

“She's intelligent and ambitious, the youngest-ever leader of the Hunters. There were a few people who were unhappy about her appointment after Clay was removed, but she dealt with them. Clay promoted her and nurtured her career but she did nothing to help him when he was accused of failure when the Fairborn was stolen from him. Jessica's ruthless and a Hunter through and through. She believes in their superiority.”

“Ha! She believes in her own superiority and always has.”

“Another reason, then, why she might believe she should control both the Hunters and the Council. I wouldn't be surprised if that's her long-term goal. If you were to come under Soul's power it would be much harder for her.”

“Another reason for her to want me dead.”

“And another reason why Soul would want you alive and under his control: to keep his position safe from the Hunters as well as the Alliance.”

“Well, I've no intention of letting either of them get what they want.”

And I tell Celia that I'm going to go to Ledger and try to get the amulet. We discuss it briefly and she agrees I should go with Gabriel and get Nesbitt to show us the way before he leaves for Australia.

I tell her, “While we're gone you need to work out stage two of the plan: how we attack Soul once I have the amulet.”

“Of course. But you haven't got it yet,” she reminds
me.