Ruins (31 page)

The only one who looked at him differently was Liberty. Her large, dark eyes locked with his for a moment and the hairs on his arms tingled. She’d said that people transmitted thoughts and feeling all the time. Nicholas dreaded to think what he was transmitting. He attempted to build a wall around himself as she’d suggested.

“This girl, what does she have to do with it all?” Liberty asked Sam.

“She’s powerful,” the old man replied. “That’s all we know.”

“Oblituss.”

A quiet voice came from the door. Dawn had appeared. She kept her timid gaze levelled on Nicholas, as if afraid to look at anybody else.

“Dawn?” he said.

“I’ve, uh, been looking into the tunnels,” she murmured softly. “This word keeps coming up. Oblituss... But I can’t find what it means.”

“Anybody?” Sam asked. He put a hand to his forehead tiredly. Nicholas felt sorry for him. No, not sorry. Angry. He was angry at him. Angry for keeping more secrets. Nicholas wrestled with his insides. Everything Sam had ever done was to protect him. Sam only wanted to preserve Nicholas’s memories of his parents. To keep him from the pain and confusion he was currently feeling. For the first time, Nicholas realised that some secrets are too awful to reveal. It was Laurent he hated. Laurent who deserved his anger.

“Oblituss,” Nicholas murmured to himself. He’d never heard the word before.

Across the lounge, Liberty stiffened. She became very still and she didn’t blink for a long time. Nicholas began to worry, but then Liberty’s eyelids fluttered and her muscles relaxed.

“Laurent intends to open the oblituss,” she said firmly.

“Which is?” Sam asked, apparently as lost as everybody else.

“I see a door,” Liberty said. “It’s old, guarded. It’s locked, but Laurent knows how to open it.”

“You know the door, you’ve seen it.”

A shiver rippled down Nicholas’s spine. Liberty’s voice was in his head again.

“
Yes
,” he thought, recalling the ancient doorway that the Harvesters had guarded. “
It’s in the tunnels.
”

A flicker of a smile toyed with Liberty’s lips and then she addressed the other Sentinels.

“It’s in the tunnels,” she said. “We need to stop him opening it.”

“Man, I wish I could do what you do,” Merlyn said to Liberty, tapping his temple. “I’d make so much
deniro
.”

That thought had never occurred to Nicholas. He wondered how many lottery winners were secretly psychic.

“What’s in the oblituss?” asked Harry, the dark-skinned man who hadn’t spoken yet.

“All I’m getting is white noise,” Liberty said with a shake of her head.

“Chances of it containing frisky kittens are pretty low, though, huh?” Merlyn said.

“It’s high time this young man got his rest,” Aileen said, bustling into the living room. She patted Nicholas’s shoulder and smiled. “There are rooms for anybody who needs them. I know the Waddells and Merlyn are local, but you’re all welcome to stay.”

Though he was exhausted, the thought of going to bed made Nicholas fidgety. He didn’t want to be alone with his thoughts. He knew he wouldn’t get any sleep; he’d just doze restlessly until the sun came up. Which was – he checked the clock on the mantelpiece – in about four hours anyway.

“Time’s running out,” Liberty said sombrely. “We’ve all heard about what’s going on in the rest of the country. It’s spreading to Europe.”

“What’s spreading?” Nicholas asked.

“Chaos,” Merlyn said. “Cows giving birth to demons, snakes raining from the sky... The Dark Prophets are reaching up from whatever hellpit they’re in, and the world’s starting to, well... Ever heard the song ‘Highway to Hell?’”

Nicholas’s gut trembled.

“We’re all tired,” Liberty said to the room. “We need rest. We’ll meet again in the morning.”

Heads bobbed cheerlessly in agreement and the Sentinels began moving toward the hall. The Waddells and Harry decided not to stay.

“Nice meeting you, Nick,” Merlyn said, shaking his hand enthusiastically. His grip was warm and strong. Nicholas frowned, noticing a strange bite mark on the boy’s neck. He realised it was a tattoo.

“See you on the battlefield,” the other boy added. His gaze lingered and then he left with the others. An odd lonely sensation wormed through Nicholas. He’d felt a burgeoning kinship with the other Sentinel. They were the same age, but Merlyn had apparently been raised fully aware of the Sentinel life. Nicholas wanted to know more about his experiences fighting demons.

Nale took Zeus out to check the area, leaving only Sam, Isabel and Liberty. Nicholas stayed where he was, resistant to the thought of bed.

“Get some rest,” Liberty told Sam. “There’s a lot to catch up on in the morning.”

“Meet me in the garden.”

Liberty’s voice echoed in Nicholas’s head and he welcomed a distraction from sleep.

“I’m going to get some air,” he said to Isabel. Before she could reply, he went into the kitchen and opened the back door. The sky was already hovering somewhere between night and day. It became a deep, inky blue and the stars twinkled a bright farewell.

He settled into a pristine garden chair flush against an ivy-smothered wall. What did Liberty want with him? Was she worried about Sam? The way she had looked at him with those marble-like eyes made him nervous. It was as if she could see right into him.

Nicholas became aware of another presence in the garden and spotted a fluffy shape lounging on the wall. Rudy. The cat looked grumpier than ever.

Finally, Liberty joined him. She handed him a steaming mug.

“Here. It’ll help you sleep.” At his hesitance, Liberty added: “Don’t make me force you like I had to force Sam.”

Nicholas peered into the mug. The contents were a deep purple and little green leaves floated on the surface. The steam that curled into his nostrils smelled delicious, though, and he sipped the drink. It tickled his throat pleasantly.

Liberty sat in the other chair. She drew her braids to one side, letting them hang over one shoulder so she could look at him.

“You’ve been through a lot, both of you,” she said. “And not just tonight.” She observed his arm in its sling. “Sam should have waited for us before going down there.”

“We were doing alright,” Nicholas murmured. His tongue felt fluffy. He contemplated his mug and wondered if it was to blame.

If you consider failing to find Rae alright. And then basically letting Laurent do whatever he wants.

“Nobody’s saying any different,” Liberty said. “There comes a time, though, when it’s okay to call for help. Speaking of, here.” She handed him something else. Nicholas took it with the hand poking out of the sling. It was his Drujblade.

“How did you..?” he asked.

“Found it on the way into Laurent’s tea party,” Liberty explained.

“Thanks. I must’ve dropped it.”

He clutched the dagger, relieved. He’d grown attached to it.

“So much responsibility at such a young age,” Liberty mused. He met her gaze and wondered for the second time since meeting her just how much she knew. “The Trinity,” she continued kindly. “You’ve been told about your part in all of this, right?”

He nodded slowly.

“Must feel like you’re balancing a dump truck on your shoulders.”

That’s exactly what it felt like. “Esus says it’s up to me,” Nicholas said. “I’m the one who has to figure out how to bring them back.”

“And then you discover the truth about your parents,” Liberty breathed. “Nobody ever said life was fair. You blame Sam. That’s okay. People are complicated; sometimes they don’t know what drives them. They’re urged on by some caveman instinct. Sam, all he’s ever wanted is to protect you. I think you know that.”

Nicholas didn’t know what to say. He should be feeling something. Some kind of heartache, maybe. A different ache to the one he’d endured since his parents died. But he was numb.

“Keep drinking,” Liberty said.

He sipped more of the purple brew. The world grew hazy, as if somebody was puffing smoke into his eyes. He almost felt like he was hovering above the ground.

“Did you try the seeing glass again?” Liberty asked.

He nodded, his head heavy.

“What did it show you?”

“Load of stuff I couldn’t understand,” Nicholas grunted drowsily. “Triangles and the raven pendant. Some guy in a hat. Random rubbish.”

She touched his hand. It didn’t feel like it belonged to him anymore. She could be touching somebody else’s hand.

“You have to trust what you saw,” Liberty urged him gently. “Embrace that power. Somewhere in there is the key to all of this.”

Nicholas didn’t care. “Sam’s wife,” he murmured despondently. “His family... You have family?”

“I have a daughter. She’s six. And my mother and my brothers.”

“Where are they now?”

“In Cambridge.”

“You’re from Cambridge?”

“You and this girl, Rae, you’re connected,” Liberty continued, steering the conversation back to things he didn’t want to talk about. Her voice began to sound distant, as if it was coming through a radio, and he had to focus to make out what she was saying.

“Yeah,” he murmured. “We’re going to destroy the world together.”

“Hardly. But it’s important that we find her, and soon. Laurent’s plans won’t wait, and it seems she’s integral to them.”

“I tried… I can’t…”

“We’ll try again. I’ll help you.”

“She’s so angry, she won’t let you.”

“She’s hurting, too.” Liberty’s voice was an echo.

“I think we’re all going to die…”

Drowsiness overcame him and Nicholas drifted into the petrol blue sky. The stars flashed around him and then there was nothing.

CHAPTER EIGHTEEN

The key

R
AE LEANED IN TO THE WALL
and studied the sky. There was no wind. Peculiar shapes darted through the air, gibbering inhumanly as the morning sun blazed. They were bat-like but almost man-sized and their shrieks tore at the sky.

Rae stifled a yawn. Her limbs were heavy and tired after a long night of training with Laurent. He’d forced her to engage her power again and again, until she could shatter things on command.

It was exhilarating. Laurent had taught her how to catch the power in her fists, stop it from scorching destructively through her. It was so easy she couldn’t believe she’d never figured it out for herself. All she had to do was breathe and focus; not let her feelings get the better of her.

She felt strong already. She’d wanted to keep training through the night, but Laurent urged her to rest. Four hours of snatched sleep later, he roused her again. It was morning and he had a task for her. Something that would require her to combine her skills as a runaway with those she’d spent all night honing.

“There’s something we need,” he’d said. “After our visitors last night, I’ve had to step up my plans. This will help us in the fight against the monsters. Once we’ve succeeded, we can continue your training.”

Rae ignored the wails above her and focussed on the flint-stone cottage across the patch of grass before her. It was just one in a craggy row that kneeled at the borders to the Abbey Gardens. They were the oldest homes in the town. Priests lived there once, but not anymore.

She had to break into one of them. That’s what Laurent had trusted her with. A tingle of unease buzzed through her. Was it too soon? Could she really break into somebody’s home and steal something? She’d thought her days of stealing were behind her.

Rae approached one of the cottages and listened at the door. It was quiet inside. She’d watched the residents, a couple in their fifties, leave twenty minutes ago. The cottage should be empty. Still, she’d move quickly.

Breathing evenly, Rae pressed her palms against the door and summoned the power as Laurent had taught her. It spiked queasily through her and the wood blistered immediately, warping under the heat that she poured into it. The wood blackened, as if rotting before her eyes, and when she shoved it, the door disengaged itself from the frame, wood splintering around the lock, which remained in place.

The heat subsided and Rae hurried into a dark hall. There were no windows and the light was hazy. She wondered briefly if people would call her a witch. She could do things that other people couldn’t. Things that would terrify them. According to the definition in a book she’d found in Moyse’s Hall, a witch was a woman ‘thought to have evil magical powers’. Was she evil? Was she the same as the women who were executed in Bury St Edmunds in the 1600s?

No. She’d seen evil. Tramps being kicked to death in the streets. Helpless nobodies who nobody would miss. She wouldn’t become one of them. She’d do whatever it took.

An image of the boy flashed through her mind. Nicholas had said Laurent was evil, but what did he know? Doubt slowed her. Laurent had introduced her to the demon hunters in the tunnels beneath the town.
Harvesters
, he called them. They were scarred and savage and reminded her of the Cronies, the London street gang she’d fled from with Twig. They made her nervous, scared even. If they were demon killers, though, it stood to reason that they were vicious.