Half Lost (20 page)

Scum

When we get back from our trip to the Tower, I go to the mock-up of the Council building. I know I have to keep practicing and double-checking my knowledge of the layout, and it's reassuring to go over it again and again. It's night, so a good time to practice in the dark.

I'll get into the Council building through the cut in the basement, invisible, and I do that now: go invisible and go through the basement and its narrow corridors, then up to the ground floor and then up the main staircase to the fifth floor, the top floor. It's the place we know least about but I go through where I'll look for Wallend. Then I have to deal with Soul. And so now I make my way back through the corridors to Soul's private office on the ground floor, as I plan to do it: walking quiet and fast. This part of the mock-up re-creates the corridors, meeting rooms, and offices with walls of tarpaulin across wooden frames.

There's a strong wind and the tarp is flapping and snapping. I slow as I get closer to Soul's office, looking and listening, imagining where guards would be positioned, staying invisible as I move past them. I'm almost at the doorway to Soul's office when I hear the voices of some trainees. Greatorex encourages them to practice constantly so I
shouldn't be surprised they're here, but I don't want to go in there with them around. Anyway, I've done most of my route; I can start again from the beginning. I'm about to retrace my steps along the tarpaulin-lined corridor when I hear my name and I stop. I realize they're not practicing but talking. I go back to listen.

“If he does manage to kill Soul, then this could all be over. Soon.”

“It's a big if.”

“Well, he's got more chance than anyone. And look on the bright side: if he fails at least he'll be killed.”

“He's invulnerable. He can't be killed.”

“Exactly what I've been saying. No one can kill him. So what's to stop him turning round and killing us after he's killed all of Soul's people?”

“He's on our side, guys!”

“Yeah? The way he looks at us, I think he wants us all dead. Remember he almost killed Celia with those flames from his mouth? Look at us. We're all Whites. What's to stop him executing us after all this is over?”

“Celia believes in him. So does Greatorex. They know what they're doing, Felicity. Our fight's against Soul, not against Nathan. Soul's the evil one.”

“And what's Nathan?”

“Scum.”

“Black, blood-sucking, heart-eating scum.”

“Come on, guys. He's on our side.”

“He's not Black anyway; he's half Black.”

“Oh, sorry. Correction! Half-Black, blood-sucking, heart-eating scum.”

Someone laughs.

“Not jealous, are you?”

“
What?
Of him? Pleeeaase!”

“Everyone knows you adore Gabriel. And didn't he turn you down?”

“He didn't turn me down. Do you really think I'd throw myself after some Black Witch?”

“Well, whether you did or not, he's not interested in anyone but Nathan.”

“Yeah, have you seen the way they look at each other?”

“Nathan looks like he wants to kill everyone all the time.”

“Maybe that's his plan. He'll kill everyone, until there's only the two of them left, just him and Gabriel.”

“Correction on the correction. He's
gay
, half-Black, blood-sucking, heart-eating scum.”

“I heard he had a girlfriend before. A White. Annalise O'Brien. She's Soul's niece.”

“I don't get it—is he gay or what?”

“Annalise? Isn't she the one who was being held prisoner at Camp One?”

“Yeah, everyone at Camp One was killed.”

“I heard
he
killed her.”

“Maybe she caught him with Gabriel.”

Laughter.

“And he killed all Annalise's family. Her brothers were Hunters. He ripped them apart.”

“Yeah, I heard that too. He ate their hearts.”

I don't know why I'm still here listening to this rubbish and I'm about to leave when I change my mind and walk round the corner slowly so they see me, so that they know I've heard everything.

They all go quiet and I say to them, “As far as I know Annalise is still alive. And for the record I've only killed one of her brothers. My father killed another one. The third one's still alive, but don't worry—if I get the chance I'll gladly rip him to pieces. Annalise shot my father. Because of her he's dead. And, yes, he was a murdering Black Witch but he was also a great man and you are so stupid that you will never have a chance of understanding one molecule of his being. And as for me . . . mind your own fucking business.” I turn to go then turn back and say, “I'm not scum but, yes, I'm a fucking blood-sucking, heart-eating half-Black so I suggest you keep out of my way.”

* * *

I'm back in the cell. I've been sitting here for a few hours. I keep going over what I said to those trainees, wishing I hadn't said anything or wishing I'd said it better. I go over it all again and again and again.

A silhouette appears in the cell doorway.

“Ah, found you,” Arran says, and sits down next to me. He's been in the camp since I was shot and I see him most days but we hardly ever have time alone together.

“Hi.”

“You've been frightening some of the trainees, I hear.”

Oh, so that's it. They've been talking about me. I say, “I had an argument with them, but you'd have been proud of me, Arran; I didn't hit them. I was incredibly calm.”

“No wonder they're so scared.”

I smile despite myself.

“They said you threatened to kill them.”

“
What?
”

“Celia didn't think it was true. She said you'd either do it or you wouldn't. I said I'd find out your side of the story. Want to tell me what happened?”

“Not really.” Then I add, “They were saying stupid things about me. So I said stupid things to them. I didn't threaten to kill them, but I did tell them to keep out of my way.”

“Ah. A sort of veiled threat.”

Maybe they saw it as that. “I won't kill them, Arran. However stupid they are.”

“Good. Not that I thought you would.”

“Can we talk about something else?”

“Of course.”

We sit for a while and talk about what he's been doing, which is learning about healing. He ends by saying, “Van taught me a lot. I've still got loads to learn but she really helped me. Anyway, at the moment there's no one left to heal. They're either alive and well, or dead.” He looks at me. “I'm not sure if I should count that as a success or failure.”

“When they're all dead, that's failure,” I say. But then I think about it and add, “No, even then it's not a failure. You do what you can, Arran.”

We sit for a while and then he waves his arms at the canvas walls, “All this is for some big attack, I guess.”

So Celia hasn't told him. And I'm going to kill more people and one of them will be Jessica, his sister, my half-sister.

“Arran . . .”

“Yeah.”

“Don't hate me.”

“I don't hate you.”

“I mean whatever I do. Please. I know you can't understand me but please . . .” And I look at him and he looks back at me the same way he always has done. Meeting my gaze so honestly and openly. He says, “You're my brother. My kid brother. I can't hate you. Ever.”

I shuffle closer to him and he hugs me and keeps hold of me.

“There is something I was going to tell you”—his voice is really quiet and a bit shaky—“I mean I want to tell you and it's good but . . .”

I move back to look at his face and he's smiling a little but also not meeting my gaze.

I can't think of anything other than he's found a girl. Arran has never really had a girlfriend. Or at least not when I was at home with him. And I realize I've no idea whether he's had girlfriends or boyfriends or anyone since I left home.

“So?” I ask, leaning forward and peering at his face. I can't help grinning.

“Well, yeah . . . I've got a girlfriend.” He cringes. “I hate that word. I mean I'm with someone . . . there's someone I like and she likes me and . . . we're friends, more than friends. It's nice. A bit of a surprise. I wasn't really . . .”

I try not to smile too much. “Anyone I know?” I ask. It has to be someone I know. And then I feel sick. Oh no, it must have been one of the trainees who were talking about me. “Oh shit! Have I messed it up? I mean if I have I'll . . . but she . . . I mean you . . .” But, really, what is he doing with one of those girls?

Arran looks confused. “You've not messed anything up. Adele's far too sensible to let anyone mess her up, even you.”

“Adele. The-one-whose-skin-turns-to-metal Adele?”

“She doesn't do that very often with me.”

“She's a good fighter.”

“And that's not really what attracted me to her either.”

I snigger. “What did attract you?”

“She's kind and thoughtful and funny. And pretty and I like her hair . . .”

We sit in silence for another minute while I process that. But I can see why Arran would like her. Adele is smart and attractive. She's also a Black Witch.

I say, “She's Black, you know. If you have kids they'll be—”

“We only met each other a few weeks ago, when you were injured. We're not planning a family just yet!”

“No, but you know what I mean.” I smile at him.

“I know what you mean. Maybe in the future, under the Alliance, there'll be lots of little Half Codes. But, as I said, we've only just met.”

“I hope she makes you happy.”

“Thanks. She does.”

He smiles and looks embarrassed and then he goes quiet and for a few seconds I look at him happily and he looks so cute and innocent and then I realize that he's probably been discussing me with her. I'm the subject of long conversations.

“You want to go back and find her?” I ask.

“No. I want to stay with you.”

And he's got that Arran thing about him. That slow, easy, comfortable quietness. A gentleness like no one else has.

After a while he says, “I still have that drawing you did of you and me in the woods, the one you left with me before my Giving.”

I remember it. Remember drawing it, remember rolling it up and laying it on Arran's bed and leaning over to kiss his head before I left. Only it seems like a different me who did that.

“Do you still draw?” he asks.

“Haven't done for a long time.”

“You should do.”

“You still watch old movies?”

“I wish. When this is over I'm definitely having a day in
front of the telly. A comedy marathon: Buster Keaton and Charlie Chaplin, the really old stuff. I love those.”

“You love them all.” And I love being with him.

“I miss those days,” he says.

And I realize something for the first time.

“I don't. I mean, they were great times. And I love you and you're the best brother, and I loved living with you and Gran and Deborah. But now I know that behind it all the Council was watching me, my father wanted to see me but couldn't. Our mother . . . There was a lot of bad stuff.”

He nods.

I say, “And I know you've had it tough. But you're still the same. It's great for you that you are. But I'm not and I was pretty messed up to start with.”

He shakes his head now.

“You've no idea, Arran. So much has happened to me. I'm not the person who used to watch films with you. I wish I was but . . . that'll never happen again. Never. I'm different. And I can't go back. I don't want to go back.”

“I know.”

“The fourteen-year-old me was taken, Arran. And he's gone. He can't come back.” Then I feel like I should be more positive so I say, “When the Alliance wins. When it's over. Then I'm going to live quietly by a river.”

“I can imagine that. You should draw too.”

“Yeah, that'd be good. I will.”

Into the Woods

It's two days until the attack on the Council building. After my confrontation with the trainees I sleep in the woods outside the camp. Gabriel says I shouldn't let them bother me, shouldn't let them drive me out. He thinks that him saying that will annoy me enough to make me stay; it annoys me a lot but not enough. I make a den by growing brambles, have a small fire, and Gabriel stays with me. In the morning we go for a run. I go ahead and then drop back and stay with him for a while and then peel off to the left or right and go faster before dropping back again. Gabriel keeps up a good steady pace. Finally he slows and I race off and come round to his left to sneak up on him: it's what we do.

I go fast but not far before looping back round. He'll know what I'm up to, and will probably expect me to come from the high ground, but I'm hoping he might discount it for that reason—my double bluff. I move across and up the slope, expecting to get sight of him down to my right, but can't see him yet. I stop. The forest is still and silent.

I'm still too now. Which way will he have gone? I have an idea he might have worked out what I'm doing and be trying to get higher than me. The top of the gentle slope isn't visible through the trees. I move further along and
up to the top of the rise. I look back but can't see Gabriel. Everything is very quiet. The slope down into the next valley is much the same as the one I've come up. I move down into that valley thirty meters, intending to come back on myself, but then I hear it. Hissing. A phone.

I freeze.

Listen again.

It's definitely the sound of a mobile phone. Faint. Maybe two hundred meters away.

It could be fains but somehow I know it's not. It's Hunters.

Shit!

And where i
s Gabriel? Oh shit.

And then I feel an arm round my neck, fingers in my hair pulling my head back. It doesn't hurt; I'm protected but I don't fight. I know it's Gabriel even though I can't see him. It's his signature move.

I relax back into him and say, “Hunters, two hundred meters away.”

He holds me still; I think he's unsure if I'm tricking him.

“You win. I give in. I surrender,” I say.

“Really?”

“Gabriel. Keep your voice down.”

He releases his hold on me and I sink to the ground knowing he'll copy me. I look at him and he sees then that I'm serious.

“Go back to the camp. Warn Celia. I'll try to work out how many there are.”

He nods, but hesitates. “You think they're going to attack the camp?”

“I don't know. Go. Be careful. Watch out for more of them.”

“They'll be invisible.”

“Go back the way we came, fast. I didn't hear anything along that route.”

He presses his hand on mine and then leaves, running back up the slope and over the top out of sight.

I become invisible and move further down the slope. Taking it slow, trying to work out where they are, I move in the direction of the sound, scanning left and right as I go. Then I see a footprint. A boot print. Definitely Hunters.

But I still only sense one phone. She must be hunkered down in the trees to my left. I take a couple of steps in that direction. And a few more. And a few more. The hissing is loud now and I should be able to see the Hunter, so I'm pretty sure that whoever is here is invisible. I can't see any signs of a camp. Nothing except that one boot print.

Is this the front of an attack or is it a scouting party? If they were planning on attacking the camp I'd expect there to be loads of Hunters. Tens if not hundreds. I'd have heard something.

I listen again. There is only one phone. Just one Hunter, who is still and invisible.

But they always work in pairs so her partner must be around. And if they're scouting then her partner is probably
looking for our camp or already watching it. I have to hope that Gabriel doesn't come across her on his way back. But he should be safe. One won't attack. They're here to watch.

I move slowly away from the Hunter, then go further into the valley, listening for more of them. I make my way back in a curving sweep, trying to cover as much ground as possible, but I find nothing.

Thirty minutes later I'm back at the camp. Gabriel is with Greatorex and Celia. Celia has had the mock-up of the Council building pulled down, but apart from that the camp is behaving much as it always does. I'm surprised. I thought she'd be packed up and ready to go or dug into six-foot-deep trenches by now.

I tell Celia, “I've found one. There's no camp that I can see. I think there is only one pair, very good and very quiet, traveling light. They're not here to attack.”

“We'd be fighting by now if they were going to attack,” Celia says. “But more will be here soon. And there's no way of knowing how long they've been here, how much they've seen.”

Celia turns to Greatorex and says, “Ideas?”

Greatorex replies, “We patrol every morning and evening. The trainees know to look for any sign. They've seen nothing. And if the scouts had found us more than a few hours ago, we'd already be dead. Odds are they arrived this morning but they'll have phoned in a report and more Hunters will be on their way here right now.”

“We need to leave. Will they be able to work out what we're planning from that?” Celia nods at the broken-down pile of tarps and wood.

“They'll know we're up to something. They'll go through the possibilities and work out that we're practicing an attack. The Council meeting is the obvious target.”

“Will they think we're strong enough to attack it?”

“They'll believe we're desperate enough.”

Celia rubs her face. “There's nothing we can do about it. We need to move now. Evacuate the non-combatants to Camp Two immediately. I want them gone in fifteen minutes. Close the cut behind them. All attack personnel prepare to move out on my orders. But first”—and Celia looks at me—“I want those two Hunters. Greatorex, send out your top trackers. Scour the area. I want that second Hunter traced and hounded down. Nathan, you go to the first one and wait there. They'll reunite if they feel threatened. I want you to take them both out. We can't have prisoners; they'll slow us down. If you detect any more Hunters, the start of an attack, you come straight back and we all leave.”

I think that this is the first time Celia has given me a direct order to kill someone. And it occurs to me that it's a strange thing to be ordered to do.

“Are you OK with that?” Celia asks.

I meet her gaze and say, “Sure.”

I leave without a word to Gabriel, without even looking at him. What can I say? “Back soon—I've got to go and kill two people.”

I go quickly back to the Hunter, turning invisible before I leave the camp. I can't think about right or wrong, just about doing the task. For all I know, a hundred Hunters might already be waiting for me.

I slow when I reach the rise and then stop and listen. The hiss of the phone is still there. I get my breath. I've run flat out most of the way. I calm my breath to make it slow, smooth, silent, and regular. Then I move closer to the source of the hissing. The Hunter is still and silent, possibly asleep. I consider killing her now, but then she'll be visible and I think the other Hunter will come back to warn her once she knows the Alliance fighters are onto them.

I decide to wait. If she moves I'll kill her.

It's not long before I hear footsteps coming from behind me and I'm not sure if this Hunter will be visible or not.

Visible! A woman in black. She runs close to me and straight to her invisible partner. Then stops and says, “Floss? Floss, are you here? We need to move out.”

Floss appears close to the other girl's feet. She's dressed in the same way and is sitting on the ground, back against a tree.

The Fairborn is in my hands without me thinking about it and I stride up to them and slit the throat of the one standing. I'm still invisible and Floss probably can't work it out; all she sees is blood and her dying partner, who now falls to the ground. But Floss is a Hunter and her automatic reaction is to pull her gun and shoot. I stab her in the neck. She shoots again and the bullet taps my shoulder and she lashes
out at my face with her other hand, a final strong swipe with all her energy, but it feels like a gentle pat to me and she bleeds out over my hands.

I let her body fall. I know they couldn't have hurt me but my orders were to kill them. That's what I've done. And they would have killed me without a second thought. They're Hunters, the enemy. But . . .
Shi
t, I can't think abo
ut this now. I've go
t to get moving.

I check their pockets. Floss has energy bars, a phone, and lip salve. The second girl has no orders, no maps, but she does have a notebook and a phone. It looks like she's been writing up times and then notes against those, but I haven't got time to spell out any of the words. The phone is locked, but I bet she's taken photos on it. I put the blood-covered phones and notebook in my pocket and head back to camp.

They were sixty-five and sixty-six. I repeat it as I run.
Sixty-five
and sixty-six
. If I say numbers, I think numbers, not bodies, not blood, not dead people caressing my face.

Sixty-five,
sixty-six. Sixty-fi
ve, sixty-six.