Sovereign Hope (35 page)

“
Where are we?”

“
Agatha says this is a place she and Daniel arranged as a
meeting point if anything ever went wrong. She’s inside getting us
a room.”

That made
sense. The Queen of Hearts was run down and dilapidated, but it was
above ground and it wasn’t on fire. Great selling points. And if
there was any chance Daniel was going to show up, I was going to be
here, waiting. Ten minutes later Agatha emerged from around the
side of the building and jogged back to the Jetta.

“
Come on, we should get inside.”

It felt
strange having nothing to bring inside but a bag full of water. I
didn’t bother collecting it. I got out of the car with Oliver and a
very groggy Tess. We waited while Agatha drove the car behind the
motel out of sight from the road. She came back for us on foot and
led the way around the back, down a metal fire escape and around
another corner, which led into a courtyard. The yard was lined with
garishly bright pink numbered doors. It looked like the Barbie
version of a crack motel.

A layer of
debris floated on the surface of the heated pool in the center of
the courtyard. Two road traffic cones and a football bobbed on top
of the water, along with the occasional plastic bag and a thick
layer of leaves.

“
Homey,” Tess muttered under her breath. It was the first
thing she had said in a while.

“
Yep. Every creature comfort,” Agatha agreed. She made her way
along the walkway, stopping at the door numbered 7B. “Get
comfortable.” She threw open the door and we went inside, taking in
the décor—two large double beds dressed with worn, pale pink
covers, and a small hot pink sofa in the far corner that bore
countless cigarette burns on its arms. As promised, a TV sat
silently on a peeling veneer coffee table at the other end of the
room. The chances that it worked were pretty low. The air was old
and musty, but the bathroom was clean, and there was no sign of
anyone lurking in the closets.

Agatha waited
until we were settled and then left, saying she needed to make some
phone calls and speak to the others when they arrived. “Get some
rest. The sun will be up soon and we might have to move on.” She
was right. The sky was brightening behind the thin curtains, and it
would soon be morning. “Don’t leave the room. Don’t open the door
to anyone,” she said. The last we saw of her was her hand, flecked
with blood, as it pulled the door closed.

CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

Whyte

“
Farley.
Farley!
”

The room was
dark. My eyes struggled to focus. Tess was kneeling over me on the
bed. “What? What is it?”

“
It’s dark out. We must have slept the whole day.”

I looked
around the room and saw that Tess was right. The light that had
flooded through the curtains was now gone, and night was back in
residence at the window again. I looked at my watch. Seven thirty
pm. How the hell had we slept for twelve hours?

“
Where’s Agatha?”

Oliver shifted
in the dark, sitting on the sofa at the other end of the room. “No
clue,” he said. “She could have gone out for some food or
something. I’m pretty sure I would have woken up if she’d come back
here, though. She might not have been back yet.”

“
No, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t leave us for so long.
Unless….” I pushed the thought out of my head right away. There was
no way she could have been captured. There wasn’t a single person
left standing back at the silo. No. She had to be out checking on
the others.

“
I think I should go out and have a quick look around, see if
I can work out which room the others are in,” Oliver
said.

Tess shook her
head. “Agatha told us to wait here.”

I got out of
bed and went to the window, looking out onto the courtyard to check
for any signs of life. The only movement was that of the football,
still bobbing in the pool. None of the other rooms appeared
occupied, or at least none of them were lit up. There was little
cloud cover, and the moon shone bright, casting long, twisting
shadows across the yard. I sighed, already regretting what I was
about to say.

“
I’ll go.” Someone had to, and Tess would feel safer if Oliver
were there to protect her. Besides, I would only run around to the
front entrance and look for Beatty’s car. After a short argument,
Oliver conceded, and I slipped out of the door into the brisk night
air. It was a lot colder than before. I shivered as I pulled the
door closed, wishing I could have stayed back in the bed where it
felt relatively safe. We weren’t safe, though. I could feel
it.

I made it to
the end of the walkway and peered around the corner before running
up the fire escape. My shoes clanged against the metal, and the
sound rang out in the night. I stopped midway, paused, holding my
breath, listening for any sounds that meant danger.

Nothing. I
continued up the steps, careful to tread light and slow so as not
to make any more noise. When I reached the top, I found that the
lot to the front of the motel was empty. Not a single sleek black
SUV in sight.

Agatha had
driven the Jetta around the other side of the building. It made
sense that Beatty would have met her and parked there, too. The
neon pink sign was still blinking brightly and humming its
high-pitched buzz as I crept along the perimeter of the building.
The road was quiet, and the street lamps disappeared off into the
distance, casting their sodium orange light in either direction for
as far as I could see.

On the other side of the building the entrance to the
reception was lit up, and another pink neon sign flashed
open… open… open… open
behind the glass.

This lot was quiet, too. Empty. Beatty’s truck was nowhere to
be seen, but more importantly, Agatha’s Jetta was gone.
She
wouldn’t have gone
anywhere without telling me
, I reassured
myself, but panic began to take hold. I looked around again to see
if the car was parked in some shadowy corner that I had
overlooked.

It wasn’t.

A stiff breeze
blew sharply across the parking lot and I braced against it,
jogging towards to the reception door. A bell jangled brightly when
I pushed it open, startling the old man seated behind the desk.
He’d been sleeping with his feet up on the counter, and nearly fell
off his chair at the noise.

He was a
disgruntled, skinny version of Einstein, balding with a thick mat
of wiry grey hair on either side of his head. It grew down into
even thicker sideburns, the look completed by his bushy
steel-colored moustache. Quick, dark, irritated eyes studied me as
I approached the counter.

“
Hi. We’re in 7B—”

“
No you’re not.” He scowled, squinting.

“
What?”

“
The woman in 7B made it clear that she ain’t here, and
neither are any of her friends. Therefore, you certainly can’t be
in 7B. Because
no one
is in 7B.”

I shook my
head, confused. He wasn’t making any sense. I tried again. “I’m
staying here… in one of the rooms…and my friend’s disappeared. I
was wondering if you might have seen her leave?”

“
There’s no one in any of the rooms.” He looked deeply pleased
with himself when he told me that.

My mouth
opened and closed before I managed to get a hold on myself. “Sir. I
was wondering if you might have seen a woman about this tall,” I
said stiffly, raising my hand up to shoulder level. “She has long
brown hair and brown eyes… and she might be covered in blood.”

The man behind
the counter, Merv, according to his name tag, screwed up his face.
I got the feeling he enjoyed being difficult.

“
I seen no one like that.”

This was
pointless. “Thanks for your help, Merv.” I spun on my heel, making
towards the door, only to pause when he gave a low whistle.

“
I definitely ain’t seen no woman like that burnin’ off in no
blue car about four hours ago, bein’ followed by a big black ‘un,
that’s for sure.”

“
Four hours ago! What kind of car was it, the black one?” I
cried, rushing back to the counter. He looked up at me blankly. I
was seconds from reaching across the desk and shaking
him.

“
Some kinda truck,” he answered after a long pause. He looked
down at some papers that he had been resting his heels on and began
flattening the creases out with his lined old hands. Apparently our
conversation was over.

“
Was it a truck, Merv? Or was it a big SUV?”

“
I don’t know what no SUV looks like. It were a truck. A
reg’lar truck with a tub on the back.
A
truck
.” He looked suspicious, like I was
trying to trick him, but I was already backing away towards the
door. The bell rang again as I ran out into the parking lot where
it had started to drizzle, and I made my way back along the
building.

Agatha had
left four hours ago being chased by Beatty’s truck? That didn’t
make sense. Beatty must have been following her. But why did they
leave? My brain was working overtime as I hurried back to the room.
I took no care to move quietly as I thundered down the metal steps.
Turning the corner back into the courtyard, I was looking down when
I moved along the walkway, which was why I didn’t notice her at
first. By the time I sensed something, it was too late. There she
was, standing outside the open door to our room, blood dripping
down her chin.

Mom.

My heart
contracted in my chest. My legs buckled. I reached out and managed
to steady myself on the wall.

My mom.

Her dress blew in the cold wind and clung, damp, to her body.
It had once been white, but as she stood there, now, it was stained
with dirt and grease and marked by the unmistakable crimson of
blood. Her eyes were looking straight at me, but they
weren’t
her
eyes.
They were strange, empty eyes—white, unseeing, yet sharp. And her
mouth…

They’d told me she was dead. I looked at the woman in front
of me and remembered the story Agatha had told only hours before.
Of course she
was
dead. But what was she now? What had they done to her? Tears
blinded me, and I knew. A sudden anger rose inside me. Where was
the damn Quorum through all this? How had they let
this
happen? What the
Reavers had done to my mom was definitely a breach in the balance
of right and wrong.

I swallowed
and stepped back, but the whyte was already moving towards me,
watching as I backed away. I stumbled back, my foot hitting soft
ground, and I realized I had left the walkway. I was on the grass
beside the pool. There was no escape that way, but the whyte, the
woman that had once been my mother, scurried forwards, blocking my
way towards the fire escape.

My mind
wouldn’t work. Had Agatha known the whyte was my mom? Had she known
she would come here? I couldn’t think about any of that now. The
rain was coming down harder. I brushed the wet hair out of my face
so I could see properly.

Searching for
a way out was too dangerous. I took my eyes off the whyte for one
second and she lunged forward, gaining ground. She seemed to hang
back, watching to see what I would do.

Her hands hung
limply by her sides, covered in blood. It was dried, though, unlike
the blood that dripped fresh from her mouth. Was it Tess’ blood, or
Oliver’s? Were they dead?

My back hit
solid wall. The whyte moved closer. I thought back to the gun
Agatha had given me, probably blown to pieces now. My own mother
was going to kill me and I had no way to protect myself. What kind
of sense did that make?

Then I remembered; it dawned on me in an instant. I
did
have a weapon. I
felt down and found the sheath clipped to my waistband, the cool
grip of the knife still resting in the leather. I had pulled on the
jeans I’d worn for my last class with Cliff!

My mother
didn’t show any sign that the blade intimidated her as I held it
out the way Cliff had demonstrated over and over again. I pushed
forward a few feet to give myself some room to maneuver. It put me
closer to the whyte, but I couldn’t be cornered. I wouldn’t stand a
chance.

Then it
started. The whyte lunged forward again, but this time I was
expecting it. I staggered out of the way and took a few running
steps before the whyte was almost on top of me. I turned back to
face her.

My mother
paused, glowering as I held the knife out and jabbed threateningly
at the air. The whyte seemed suddenly disinterested in playing. My
stomach knotted at the look on her face. She pulled back her
blackened lips and snarled, leaning forward to bare her shattered
teeth. My hand was shaking. The blade quivered in the
moonlight.

The whyte
lunged again, this time quicker than before, and I barely had time
to react. I slashed out blindly, hoping to scare her into retreat.
Instead, the steel made contact with her arm and drew a deep cut
across her flesh. The whyte snapped her teeth, furious, and let out
a low guttural growl before continuing forwards. A crude stream of
blood oozed down her arm, more black than red in the moonlight. I
shied away, still clutching the knife.

The whyte came
at me again. When I staggered back, my foot snagged. The next thing
I knew, I was falling. I landed with a winded thud on my back right
beside the pool. My strangled cry was cut off as the whyte leapt on
top of me, bearing her weight down in an attempt to tear at me with
her teeth.