Ruins (47 page)

T
HE SCHOOL WAS ALIVE WITH DEADLY
shadows. The foundations trembled, as if some immense creature was heaving itself up from the bowels of the earth, and Sam clung to a wall.

A shadow with teeth snapped at his face and he shoved himself away, staggering over to Aileen.

“What’s happening?” she yelled, slashing the air with her sword.

“The shadow things,” Merlyn said.

“Where’s the cat?”

“Gone,” Sam said.

He ignored the nip of remorse and dodged as a dark shape swooped for him.

“Hands up if you think getting the fudge out of here is priority numero uno,” Merlyn yelled, slashing his own blade at the murklings. It passed ineffectually through them.

Sam felt a rush of heat as one of the murklings slithered through him.

Judith. He saw Judith. The last time he’d seen her, he’d kissed her on the cheek and left her in Orville. Left her to die so that he could attend a Sentinel summit in Cambridge. All that was left was ash. Not even enough to fill an urn.

“I didn’t know,” he gasped, attempting to free himself from the murkling. “I DIDN’T KNOW SHE WAS GOING TO DIE!”

The murkling released its grip.

Sam panted, planting his hands on his knees.

What were the murklings waiting for? They could kill them in an instant if they wanted to.

Fear
, Sam thought. They wanted to bleed them dry of their fear. Even as he looked on, they were increasing in size, becoming swollen. Their cut-out eyes gleamed red.

A solid form emerged into the corridor. It hurled an object through the air and Merlyn cried out.

“Son of a!” He spun around, attempting to grasp at the round, cerated blade embedded just under his shoulder. Aileen came to his rescue, tackling the Harvester who had hurled the weapon. She moved faster than Sam ever thought possible. The sound of metal clashing rang over the din of murklings.

A wall exploded beside him and he saw that another Harvester had emerged, this one equipped with a gauntlet.

“That one!” he yelled. “Get that one!”

As Merlyn charged, Sam rooted around in his satchel. There had to be something to keep the murklings at bay. He’d never heard of anything like them. They were insubstantial. How could you fight something you couldn’t touch?

His fingers closed around a box of matches.

Light.

It was worth a try. If they really were shadows, it stood to reason that they’d retreat from the light.

As Merlyn and Aileen fought off the Harvesters, all the while attempting to evade the murklings, he grabbed a chair from where it rested against the wall and smashed it. Seizing a splintered leg, he tore off a piece of his shirt and wrapped it around the end, dousing it in lighter fluid. He struck a match.

The murklings screeched and flashed away from him, melting into the walls.

“Aileen, Merlyn, this way!” Sam yelled, brandishing the torch.

Merlyn tugged his blade free from a Harvester’s belly and hurried after Sam. Another wall exploded ahead of them. The remaining Harvesters were giving chase.

“Is this the way out?” Aileen puffed.

Dismayed, Sam realised they’d doubled back on themselves in the confusion.

“This way,” he said, aiming for the doors that led out onto the playground.

As they staggered down the corridor, they came to a part of the school that seemed to have been subjected to a small explosion. A perfect circle of burnt linoleum. And the floor was littered with debris.

Sam squinted uncertainly.

Beside the debris lay the body of a black cat.

“What’s this?” Merlyn said.

“Go,” Sam urged, handing the young Sentinel the torch. Ahead, he saw the double doors that led to the playground. “That way. Go now.”

“Sam,” Aileen began uncertainly.

Merlyn took her arm and they hurried toward the doors.

Sam inspected the rubble more closely, confirming what he’d suspected. A body was half-buried in the mound of rubble at the centre of the blackened portion of the corridor.

It was Miss Fink.

She groaned, as if stunned, and attempted to move.

“You,” Sam whispered hoarsely. Anger throbbed at his temples. He knew he should hurry after Merlyn and Aileen; get out of the building before it crushed him, but an uncontrollable rage drove him down. Before he knew it, he was crouching in the wreckage, going for the headmistress’s scrawny neck.

As he dragged her up and shook her, the old woman thrashed to life.

Her eyes snapped open and they flashed briefly gold.

“Samuel,” the old woman choked.

He couldn’t believe his ears. His grip slackened.

“Isabel?” he murmured.

*

A grey dawn heralded a new morning. The light was cheerless, as if straining through dirty windows, and Nicholas squinted miserably at the remains of Royal Birch Primary School. He let the axe he’d taken from the battle-scarred Abbey Gardens rest against the ground.

“You think they’re in there?” Dawn asked, eyeing the school.

“Hopefully not,” Nicholas said. He didn’t want to imagine what they’d find if they went into the school. Were Sam and Isabel alive? The last thing Rae remembered was blowing up the gymnasium. Aileen, Liberty and Merlyn had been with her, too. What if they were all dead?

The thought of Merlyn being hurt made him queasy. He wasn’t sure why.

Attempting to shut out his trepidation, Nicholas focussed on the school and breathed evenly. The seeing glass had done its job. Within seconds he could see inside the building and was scouting the wreckage in his mind. He found only broken bodies. Harvesters littered the floors. Nicholas kept searching, attempting to find the gymnasium.

The breath caught in his throat.

A dead cat lay crumpled amid the ruins.

“Isabel,” Nicholas gasped, emerging from the vision.

“Is she–” Dawn began.

Nicholas nodded, clenching the axe. After everything that had happened, Isabel was dead. He forced the sob down, ground his teeth together to keep the emotion at bay. “I didn’t see anybody else. I think they’re alright.”

“Unless they’ve been taken.”

“We should check inside, just to be sure.”

“You go in if you want,” Rae said. She sat on a bench facing the road. It was just the three of them. The other Sentinels, headed by Nale, were still in town hunting the monsters that Laurent had unleashed.

Nicholas peered up at the sound of wings. He turned in time to see Esus appear. The figure stood with the town burning behind him.

“They’re on their way to Jessica,” Esus intoned.

“They–” Nicholas began. “Sam and Aileen?”

“And the other woman.”

Woman?
Nicholas thought.
Liberty?

“They left us?” he asked, shooting Dawn a look of disbelief. She picked at her nail polish anxiously.

“They were following orders.”

“
Your orders?
You told them to leave us here?”

“Your journey continues without them,” Esus said. “You must discover how to resurrect the Trinity.”

Nicholas eyed Rae. He couldn’t imagine where to begin.

“Cambridge,” he said finally. It was the first thing that came into his head.

“This town has been compromised,” Esus intoned. “It will not be long before Cambridge falls, too.”

It was probably true, but Nicholas didn’t know what else to do. Cambridge was home. Cambridge might have answers.

My parents
, he thought. In the chaos, he’d almost forgotten. His parents hadn’t been his parents. Perhaps there would be more answers about them at home. Morbid curiosity gnawed at him, but Nicholas wasn’t sure if he wanted to know more. What if they had even more secrets? Sam would know. Sam and his wife had known his real parents. But Sam was gone.

He thought about what the seeing glass had shown him. There were still things that hadn’t come to pass. Like the most incongruous part of the vision. Elvis Presley. And the moonlit well. He still had no idea how that fit into all of this.

“Go,” Esus said. The spot where he stood darkened and then the masked phantom was gone.

Nicholas watched a raven whisk away, disappearing into the distance. He felt as if an impossible task lay ahead. They’d disrupted Laurent’s plans and it still wasn’t enough. The apocalypse was here and now. He wondered if Esus would only be happy when Nicholas was dead.

He squinted at the school. How long ago had Sam left? Could they catch up with him? With a sinking feeling, Nicholas knew they wouldn’t be able to. Besides, he had no idea which way Sam had gone.

As the sun struggled through sombre clouds, he felt Dawn’s hand at his shoulder.

“Hey,” she said. “Happy birthday.”

It was weird how she seemed to always say exactly the right thing at exactly the right time.

Nicholas grabbed his axe and hefted it onto his shoulder. “Cheers. Who fancies a walk, then?”

*

A bird’s coarse shriek shattered the stillness of Hallow House. A ragged black shadow tumbled down a hallway, and then, in its place, a tall figure strode purposefully. Dark robes dragged and a silver mask glimmered.

“Jessica?” Esus rumbled.

No answer. The walls flexed around him, bowing inward. It was too dark. The air a shroud. Esus strolled down the hall, making no more than a soft rustle as he moved.

There. A noise. The cowled head tilted. Listened.

A shivering breath and what might have been a sob or a gasp.

The black eyes behind the mask narrowed. On the wall. Something dark was smeared in a line. A sticky trail of something red.

Esus stiffened, shoulders curling up toward his ears.

Ahead. Another noise.

Esus reached a door. Blood pooled before it, oily black in the darkness. He reached out a gloved hand and opened the door.

A woman looked up from the closet floor. She was covered in red. Her hair hung in saturated strings. Her dress was wet crimson. On the floor between her bare knees rested a severed head. Dead teeth clenched. Eyes rolled back so the whites shone.

Lash. Her bodyguard.

“He wouldn’t stop,” Jessica said. “He wouldn’t stop. So I made him. It’s a game. Do you want to play?”

She grinned and her teeth were red.

EPILOGUE

A
SICKLY MORNING LIGHT BROKE OVER
the Abbey Gardens. The park was deserted but for two figures.

Malika sailed through the ash and cinders with deadly purpose, her dress trailing behind her. At her side, Laurent was pale with smudge-like shadows under his eyes, his jaw set determinedly. His hair was matted with blood at the back.

They entered the ruins and found the spot where Laurent had performed his ceremony just hours before. The grass was black. The ruins charred. And there, nestled in a bed of cinders, was the blackened form of the Tortor.

“They did well,” Malika purred.

“They didn’t know what they were doing,” Laurent murmured, sounding satisfied. “The light show worked. They really believed that three powerless totems could revive the Prophets.”

Malika watched him sink to his knees beside the faceless man. Then, seemingly unable to resist any longer, Laurent tore at the figure’s stomach, ripping aside chunks of coal-like flesh. A faint green glow lit up his eyes, emanating from the cavity.

With a blissful sigh, Laurent rested back on his heels.

Peering over his shoulder, Malika’s jaw became a hard line. In the recess of the Tortor’s stomach rested three veiny pods the size of ostrich eggs.

“I can hear them,” Laurent breathed.

Malika laughed, the sound high and mocking. His confused gaze only doubled her amusement.

“The Prophets,” she whispered, her eyes narrowing into slits. “You still believe it’s the Prophets who whisper their secrets to you.”

Laurent got to his feet uncertainly.

“They always have,” he murmured.

A flash of silver opened his throat. Hot wetness oozed over his collar. He clamped a hand to the wound, gulping, shock tugging at his perfect lips.

“Wha–” he choked, retching blood.

“The Dark Prophets have never spoken to you,” Malika sneered, her fingers glistening red as she wiped the Drujblade on her dress.

Laurent sagged to his knees once more. What little colour his cheeks had held quickly drained from them. He grew ashen as the sky.

“We deceived them all,” Malika hissed. “But nobody was deceived more than you. How happy you were to do my bidding. It was my voice that whispered in your ear. Mine that revealed the secrets of the Prophets. If you were chosen, it was by me alone. I know a loyal hound when I see one.”