Half Lost (8 page)

“Your testimony will be heard, Nathan. It's right that it should be.” Celia pauses and then adds, “And it's also right that you allow the court to deal with Annalise. That you don't seek your own revenge.”

“If they let her go I'll seek what I like.”

“Well, then the courts will have to deal with you too.”

“Let them try.”

Celia says, “I take it you know what her Gift is?”

I've given it a lot of thought and I have my suspicions. After Annalise shot Marcus, a huge gun battle started. Gabriel pulled me to the ground to protect me and when I looked up again Annalise had gone. At first I thought she'd run off and hidden in the trees, but I think I've always known that she disappeared, literally.

“She can become invisible,” Celia confirms.

“How appropriate that she's got the same Gift as her esteemed father and glorious brother. How perfect. Now we know that she's just like them.”

“Yes, that's Gus's argument, but some would say you're just like your father.”

“I can be proud of that.”

“Be careful, though, Nathan. There are many White Witches in the Alliance, many more White than Black, and, while they have no love for Annalise's family, she has the advantage of being seen as weak and insignificant, despite her Gift. You are neither of those things. They see that you are like your father. They know what you did to take his Gifts from him.”

“What I had to do!”

“It isn't good if they fear you, Nathan. And many White Witches fear what you are or may become. They feel sympathy for Annalise acting out of love and devotion to a misguided brother, but you they see as a murderous Black Witch, son of Marcus, eater of hearts. You killed Marcus. Some are saying that it is you who should be put on trial.”

“I wanted to save him! It was hopeless. He was dying. I didn't want to do it!”

“Calm down, Nathan,” Celia says, her voice low and quiet.

I swear at her.

“There are some White Witches, supporters of Annalise,
who think the best way to defend her is to focus on you. They say the law must be applied equally.”

“You want to arrest me? Is that it? For eating my father's heart after she shot him?”

“You can't be treated differently. I have to take you to answer the charges too. You can explain. I don't think it will—”

“You going to put me in a fucking cage?”

And I know they'd love that, all the Whites would love to see me in chains. And there is no way,
no way
, I'll ever let them do that to me again. And before I know it there's lightning shooting out from my hands, hitting the ground to either side of Celia's feet, and then I breathe a ball of fire and Celia is already stepping back from me as the flames burst between us.

And then her noise fills my head and it's agony and I hate it and I'm on my knees.

She stops it quickly, though.

“I don't want to hurt you, Nathan. I don't want to use my Gift on you, but I will have to if you don't calm down.”

I look up at her and get back on my feet. I hate her noise so much and all I know is I'm going to stop her, stop everything. She's never going to use her noise on me again.

Never.

I rub the palms of my hands together and feel the world moving, and I move my hands faster and faster and then stop. I hold my hands close to my head and think of stillness.

There are no noises at all now. All is quiet. All is still.

Celia is standing in front of me, her face calm, concentrated. Gabriel is staring at me, still angry. Nesbitt is poised on one leg as if he was backing away and Greatorex has her gun pointed at me. And further back from that group are all the trainees. They must have heard the shouting and come to watch and listen. Most look afraid; one looks gleeful. Donna is there too, her hands still tied, looking serious.

And I walk away from them. I don't know how long time will be stopped for. I don't care. There is no way they'll get me in a cage.

I walk away and behind me I hear shouting. Time has started up again. I run.

Drugs

I'm sitting in the forest. It's getting late. I'm not sure what to do. I haven't hurt anyone. But I could have. I was close to it. And I spat in Gabriel's face. How could I have done that?

It's almost dark when I hear footsteps. They stop, then they get louder, clumsier. He's making sure I know he's coming, and when the footsteps get nearer they stop again and a voice calls out, “That was some fancy magic you did back there, mate.”

I don't answer and after a minute Nesbitt comes and squats next to me.

“No one could work it out at first. It was like you'd vanished into thin air. Gab said you must've done the trick with stopping time.”

“Yeah.”

“Nice!”

“Yeah.”

“So, anyway, a few of us thought we'd see if we could find you. And . . . so . . . here I am. Mind you, it wasn't hard 'cause as usual you left a trail a mile wide.”

“I'm not trying to hide. I just needed to think.”

“Yeah, well, that's understandable.” Nesbitt manages to
stay still and silent for half a minute and then says, “They won't put you in a cage. Celia won't let them. She said that.”

I'm not sure what to believe, though I don't think Celia would lie to me.

Nesbitt adds, “Van won't let them do it either. Nor me, and definitely not lover boy. And I don't think Greatorex would be too happy about it. You've got more friends than you think.”

I wonder if that's true. If I have friends how come I always feel alone?

“Is Gabriel still mad at me?”

Nesbitt hesitates and then says, “On a scale of one to ten, I'd say he's at nine and a half.”

“So, it could be worse then.”

“He'll calm down.” Nesbitt nudges me and says, “The best thing about arguments is the making-up after. I see a big reconciliation ahead for you two: you apologize and he takes you into his arms and—”

“Nesbitt, shut up.”

We sit in silence for a bit and then I ask him, “So, what's the plan?”

“The plan is that I use my charm and charisma to persuade you to calm down and come back to camp. Then when Celia is sure that you aren't going to kill Annalise with a bolt of lightning or whatever . . . then we go to Camp One, where you give evidence in the trial of the century. Annalise's, I mean. You're not going on trial, at least not
yet. Celia says best case it'll never come to that. Course that means that worst case it will. But if Annalise is found guilty you won't have a case to answer. Celia says she'll make it clear to everyone that you have come voluntarily to give evidence. She says I have to emphasize that you haven't been arrested and that so far there are no charges against you.”

“She better not try to arrest me. I'm not going on trial. Not ever. Not for anything and definitely not for killing my father. I don't have to explain myself to them. And I'm never going back in a cage, never going in a cell, never going behind a locked door.”

“OK. Well, that's pretty clear.” After a minute Nesbitt adds, “To be honest, mate, I think they'd struggle to arrest you, and even if they managed to get you in a cell I think you've got enough Gifts now to get out pretty easy, so I wouldn't worry about it.” And he nudges me with his elbow. “Mind you, if you were struggling, I could bake a cake and do the old trick of smuggling a file in to you. Or Gab could disguise himself as the big fat sweaty jailer and steal the keys and—”

“Nesbitt, shut up.”

“I was just saying—”

“When I was fourteen they put a collar on me. If I went too far from the cage, the collar would open and let out acid. They'd do that again.”

Nesbitt is quiet for a moment, then says, “No wonder you're so messed up.”

“Thanks.”

“Anyway, I don't think even that's really going to be a problem for you. You managed to walk away from a load of seriously Gifted witches. I mean, Celia was doing her noise thing and you vanished. Greatorex and the trainees—”

“Nesbitt, can you shut up? Just for a minute?”

He manages to stay quiet for almost a minute before saying, “You got any food? I haven't eaten a thing since that disgusting porridge.”

I don't have any food but we light a fire and sit looking at it and poking it and Nesbitt chats on into the night. When he falls asleep, I go over it all again. I can't let Annalise get away with it. Because of her, Marcus is dead. I said I'd kill her and maybe that's what I have to do. But I'd like to see her on trial. I'd like to see her questioned. I'd like to see her in a cage, wondering if she'll ever get out. So I will go and give evidence. Let's see if the Alliance can make a fair trial work. If not, well, I can decide what to do later.

I take out the packets of potion that Van gave me. Perhaps she knew I'd need them when I heard about Annalise. Probably. I'm not tempted to take all three. I want to see Annalise. I want her to see me too. I want to spit in her face. And then I think of Gabriel again. How could I have done that to him?

I open one of the packets and inside lies a smudge of fine yellow powder. I lick a few grains from the tip of my finger but only taste a faint suggestion of mint, so I pour the
contents to the back of my throat and the mint flavor fills my mouth and then changes to become a dry bitterness and I wish I'd got some water, but then I realize I don't need to bother and my body feels like it's floating away into the darkness.

The blackness is empty and silent. It is perfect. It is complete.

Calm

“Are you calm now?” Celia asks.

“No thanks to you.”

But I say this quietly and slowly. I do feel calm, clear. I'm not sure what was in that powder that Van gave me—more than just sleeping potion, I think. I'm feeling remarkably level-headed and in control. Even so, I've stayed away from camp for most of the day, only returning in the evening. Nesbitt walked back with me, and for once he kept relatively quiet.

“I only used my Gift on you because I thought things might get out of control,” Celia says. “The trainees don't know you like I do. They might have thought you were going to hurt me. But I trust you, Nathan.”

I remember her face when she was frozen in time and she's being honest, as she always is. She looked calm, like she was making a calculation.

I nod over to the trainees sitting across the fire from us and say, “I get the feeling everyone else expects me to rip their heart out and eat it for supper.”

“The question is, what would you do if you saw Annalise?”

“I hate her and want her dead. I want to avenge my father but I want to see her stand trial. I want justice. I want her to be found guilty. I want her punished. Severely punished. I'm thinking that being shot in the stomach and left to die slowly and painfully would do it.”

“But you won't try to kill her the minute you see her?”

“Not that first minute. But if she's found not guilty, or let off . . . I don't know.” I shake my head. “What will they do to her if they find her guilty?”

“I think she'll be imprisoned. Probably for years.”

“She killed Marcus. She should die. She should be shot.”

“I doubt the court will want to shoot her. And if you were to do that, or take the law into your own hands in any way, then I'd have no option but to arrest you. It's the way the Alliance must work, Nathan. Fairness to all.”

“Fine.” I smile at her. “You'd have to catch me, of course.”

“Let's hope it won't come to that.”

* * *

It's dark when I finish talking with Celia and I can't see Gabriel anywhere. I ask Nesbitt and he says, “Try his tent.”

I didn't even know Gabriel had a tent. Nesbitt nods to the one at the end of the row and I can see a green light coming from it.

I go over and drum my fingers on the canvas, saying, “Gabriel?”

He doesn't respond but I'm sure he's in there so I stick my head in. The tent is full of a green haze from the bowl
of nightsmoke that's on the ground near Gabriel's head. Gabriel is lying on his side on a mat on the ground, a book open beside him. He doesn't look up.

I say, “Hi.”

He doesn't reply and still doesn't look up.

“I hope you're just pretending to read,” I say. “And really you can't concentrate on the book because all you can think of is beating the living shit out of me.”

“I'm not sure what living shit is, but you're not far from the truth.”

Gabriel looks at me now and I can see he's serious. He really would like to beat me up. I'm stooped over into the tent and it isn't very big and I feel awkward, so I kneel down.

“Do you want something?” Gabriel's voice is full of poison.

“Um. Yeah . . . I think we need to talk.”

“Ha! Coming from you, that's almost funny. But strangely enough I'm not in a humorous mood.”

“I wish you'd told me that you thought Annalise had been caught.”

“I wish you'd told me about your attacks on the Hunters.”

“I did tell you.”

“You told me some things, afterward, when you had to; when you couldn't hide them anymore.”

“But you were hiding stuff about Annalise. The Hunters didn't affect you.”

“Didn't affect me? A group of eight Hunters that close to our camp? That close to Greatorex and the trainees?”

“But—”

“You could have got killed by them, or wounded, and I would have gone looking for you and probably got killed myself.”

“But I was—”

“I haven't finished,” Gabriel interrupts. “I admit I hid my thoughts from you. I didn't tell you my suspicions about Annalise being a prisoner, because I was trying to protect you. You know I hate her. I'd love to see her dead. Part of me would love to see you rip her to pieces, but another part of me knows that would be wrong, not for me or for her, but for you. You're not yourself at the moment, Nathan. I didn't want you to kill her and regret it after. Everything I did, I did for you. You hid your thoughts and actions from me because of what you wanted for yourself. You were only thinking of yourself. As usual.”

I think I've lost at talking with Gabriel.

“You should go now,” he says.

I don't move. I don't want to leave. I still want to talk to him. I need to apologize. This afternoon I worked out what I need to say. I've just got to say it.

I take a deep breath and quietly and sincerely say, “Gabriel, I'm sorry I spat at you.”

He stares at me and snorts. “Wow. An apology.”

OK. So that's not what I hoped for. I say, “I was angry.
But I shouldn't have done that. I wish I hadn't.”

“No, you shouldn't have spat at me. You shouldn't have spat. In. My. Face. And, yes, I'm angry too. And apologizing, unique though I'm sure it is from you, isn't good enough.”

“What would be good enough?”

“Nothing. Just go.” He takes his eyes off me and goes back to his book.

We sit in silence for a bit. I think he may relent; he has to. He can't really mean this. Then he closes the book and looks up. “You still here?” His voice is nasty.

“Gabriel, I—”

“Nathan, I'm really, really pissed at you. I want you to go.” And I know he's serious.

I get up and leave the tent, walk out of the camp, and keep going.

I run and keep running. I can run for hours, letting my body take over.

I stay away for the next day, and the next, and then more. I spend most of the time as an animal but some time as the human me, to think.

I'm scared that Gabriel has already come to dread me, like he was afraid he would. And I think about all the stories of Black Witches and how their relationships never last and always end violently. And then I remember how he looked at me and was so angry.

I think of my father and I want to be like him, as strong as him. In many ways he was honorable and totally honest.
And I know he loved me. But he could be cruel and harsh and terrifying. I remember the story Mercury wrote in her diary about Marcus killing the witch called Toro. I never asked my father about that. I didn't want to hear the answer, because I think Mercury was right: he killed Toro simply because Toro annoyed him and because he could, because he really didn't care any more for Toro's life than for a fly's. And I love Marcus but I don't want to be like that. I don't want people to dread me.

Gabriel respected my father, but he also respects my White side, my mother's side. I never knew her, except through Gran, Arran, and Deborah, all kind and thoughtful and caring people. I know I've come so far from them but I don't want to lose that half of myself.

I want to be a Half Code. I want to be Black
and
White, the best of both.

And now I want to see Gabriel, to tell him I'm not lost, that I do know who I am. So I head back to Camp Three. I'm not sure how many days I've been away, four or maybe five. It's a long way and though I run fast the weather turns bad, with snow and freezing wind. It takes me another two days. When I approach the camp it's dark and snowing lightly, though the wind has died to nothing.

I'm exhausted, dirty, and hungry but all I want is to see Gabriel. This time I know the password for the sentry and give it properly and then walk slowly into the camp.

I go straight to Gabriel's tent and with each step I feel
more sick with worry. What if he still won't talk to me? What if he hates me?

I see his tent but even from a distance I can tell there is no green light. And then my stomach is in knots, hurting me. I look inside the tent. There's nothing in there, not even his sleeping bag or book. What if he's left the Alliance without me? I wonder where Nesbitt is. He'll know. But it's late and snowing and there's no one around. And now I want to be sick. I know I've really fucked up this time. I go to the center of camp, to the fire, maybe Nesbitt's there . . . There's a figure, lying near the fire, alone, snow dusting his sleeping bag. Gabriel? I think it's him and I rush to him, scared I'm mistaken.

It's him. He's asleep.

I sit down near his feet. I'm so relieved, my stomach painful with tension. The snow is coming down in tiny, fine flakes. I add a couple of logs to the embers but the fire is nearly out. I still feel like I'm going to be sick.

Gabriel stirs and sits up. Maybe he wasn't asleep after all. He wraps his sleeping bag round his shoulders, though he doesn't move closer to me. We're a meter or so apart.

I stare at the fire and try to work out what to say, maybe apologize again or maybe say something about how I'm glad he's still here.

He says, “You've been away a long time. Were you lost?”

And I feel like crying because his voice is still hard.

I say, “Wounded, not lost . . . maybe lost too. I dunno.”
I turn to him. “But I don't want you to be. Wounded, I mean. By anyone, especially not by me.”

“Then don't lie to me. Don't hide things from me.”

“I won't.”

“And don't ever spit at me again.”

“I won't.” And I know I won't. I couldn't. Not now. I can't take back what I've done to him but I can behave better and I want to desperately.

He says, “You know I love you. Still. Forever.”

“So . . . I'm forgiven?”

“I didn't say
t
hat
.”

We sit and look at the fire, which is beginning to burn stronger. Gabriel says, “You wound me in other ways, Nathan.”

I think of drawing the knife on him, all the times I've sworn at him and just been plain nasty.

He says, “When we first met, you told me all about yourself. Recently, you've hardly told me anything. I mean, I don't want you ever to be a chatterbox, but you say I'm your friend. You need to talk to your friends.”

And it's true, of course; when we first met I did tell him about me, my life.

I shuffle over closer to him and say, “OK. So what do you want me to talk about?”

“Tell me things, important things.”

“Like what?” And I wonder if he means about my father or my visions.

“Tell me about Wales. I want to go to Wales with you one day.”

And I smile and want to cry too. And I tell him about this special place in the mountains that I went to one summer: there was a small lake and I could climb the cliff behind it and dive into the water. And I tell him I'll take him there when the war's over. And I watch the flames some of the time and watch Gabriel the rest of the time and I know I never want to hurt him again.