Wild Thing (11 page)

'I live here?  With my Uncle.  Dr Harmon?'

For a long time he just stared at her; for such a long time, in fact, that she started getting bored.  He sure was jumpy.  She wondered what was scary about saying she hadn't got past any walls?

'Um, what's your name?'

Again he swept the glowing protective circle away and stepped forward, this time looking a little cross.

'You don't know?'

'I think it starts with G.'

He blinked.  Said something, under his breath.

'Sorry, I didn't hear you,' she told him, pointing to her ear.

He looked annoyed, but spoke up louder.  'I said I am God's Son,' and then paused, like he was expecting her to react in some way.

'Um, that's a nice name.  Why did you try to blast me with magic fire yesterday?'

'I – why did you say you live here?  Alexander is your uncle?  You don't look at all like him.'

She giggled.  'You call him Alexander?  Doesn't he get cross?'

Mr G smiled.  He had a really nice smile.  'Sometimes, yes.  That's why I do it.'

She giggled again.  'He adopted me.'

'But surely that would make you his daughter?'

She looked away, suddenly not feeling so giggly.  'No.  I'm his ward.'  She looked back through the window at Godsson.  'He said I can call him Uncle, though.'

'Ah.  Of course.  Yes.  I see.'

'So why did you get all scared when you first saw me?  And why did you try to fireblast me, yesterday?'

'I – well, a young girl like you… you were the last thing I expected to see, here.  So I, ah, assumed you weren't what you seemed.'

'What did you think I was?'

'I… thought you were something that had followed me here.'

'Um, I don't mean to be rude, truly, but I think you're an in-mate?  I think you were
put
in there.'

'Not
here
.  To this world.'

She could feel her eyes go big.  'Oh, wow!  So you're an
alien!
  That is so cool!'

'No!  I merely visited another… place.  And there I dealt with… a bad person.  But part of her death… attached to me.  Followed me back.'

'Wow.'  She thought about that.  'Part of her death – you mean, like a ghost?'

He blinked, looking a little surprised.  'In a sense; in a sense.  In that Place, actions have consequences.  And killing Melisande d'Artelle had consequences.'

'Oh!  I know her!'

Godsson jumped back from the window and once again the golden-bright circle sprang up around him.

She blinked, crossly.  Why did he keep
doing
that?  'We learned about her in…  Anyway, she was a real bad magician…'

She stopped, realizing he couldn't hear her, again.  When he finally stopped his spell, he strode right up to the door.  'What do you know of d'Artelle?  Speak quickly, child!'

'I'm not a child!  I'll be nine in December!'

'What do you know of d'Artelle?' he growled at her.

'I already told you, but you couldn't hear me through your stupid spell.'  That only made him look growlier. 
Probably because it was true.
  Grown ups didn't like looking stupid.  'Fine.  Melisande d'Artelle made the Second World Storm, the one that came in winter time, and the Melt plague, and who was all pretending-to-be-good even though really she wasn't, she was really bad.'  She stopped, pleased that she could show off how much she knew.  'Oh!  You thought I was
her?
  The Enemy of Mankind?  Really?'

She wasn't sure if she was cross about that, or pleased.  'Do I look like her?'

'No.  It was merely – I didn't expect to see a child here, of all places.  You shouldn't be here.  How did you even get in?'

'Stop calling me a child!  And I'm pretending to be a repair girl so the computer thinks I'm usual.  I've got a broken bot and a red toolbox and I taught the computer you hold broken bots up to windows after you stand on a chair.'

For a long while Godsson said nothing at all, but eventually he smiled.  'You know, Sara, I think I like you.'

They chatted for a long time.  Godsson was fun.  He even made up a secret new word: “Grups.”  It meant normal, boring grown-up people. Not like her, or Mr G.
 

Chapter 10 

Sara prowled silently behind Dwayne as he spoke on his wristcomm.

'Yeah, I'm heading to the warehouse lift now.  The truck's just entered the main gates.'

She couldn't hear the response, but saw him check his netpad.

'Yeah, four Tik Tek Nursoid sixes, and two more Honda dombots.'  Again, he fell silent.  'True.  When the next gen Nursoids are released, there'll be no excuse for us to hang around.'

Probably he was talking to Nerida.

'Looks almost time to head back to the city, babe: pick up a job in a normal place.  It'll be a relief to be away from the creepy nuts around here.'

Creepy nuts?  That's just mean!
  Her eyes narrowed and she streaked bare-footed down the corridor at her very fastest speed.  She was a swift and silent cheetah, eyes fixed on the unsuspecting sheep ahead in its white coat.  But at the last instant, she decided the prey was too easy.  That wouldn't lessen its fear, though, as the deadly predator flashed past it.  The people here had learned that much, over the last few months.  Not like the stupid robots, who just got confused and stopped if she hunted them.

She
Growled
him as she raced past, grazing his jacket and delighting in his startled cry.  With a fierce grin back at him as she slowed for the corner, she darted out of sight.

His angry voice pursued her, though.  'It's no wonder you don't have any friends!'

It almost made her stop and go back.  She did too have friends!  She had Faith, and her uncle, and Mr Shanahan.  And Godsson.  That was lots of friends!

But somehow, she didn't feel quite so Growly any more.

She scuffed through the gravel outside, wondering whether she ought to put some shoes on.  That was how bored she was: she was thinking about shoes.

What to do?  Faith'd still be doing her rounds with Mr Shanahan for another hour.  And inside the building was just a handful of Grups in white coats roaming from one place to another doing boring Grup things.  And they were all either too busy to talk to her, or too boring to talk
to
.  She considered
Growling
Nerida – but she'd done that yesterday, and Dwayne today: it was too soon to stalk either one again.

And then it started to rain.  She said Dwayne's curse word: in the cold rain the Forest would quickly turn into a big wet empty zero.

She could try sneaking into the Dungeons, where the in-mates lived.  She could visit Godsson once she got past the security cameras….

Godsson was nice.  Maybe they could make up more secret Hunter's language.  Remembering him naming the grown-ups “grups” made up her mind.

Yeah.  She'd visit Godsson.  He was always so serious she felt sorry for him.  Even if he didn't approve of her hunting, he was interesting to talk to.  Strange, but – he thought his father made
everything
, just like she made rivers and mountains and dams in the Forest.  He said his father, as a test, made people put him in the Dungeon.  She didn't understand why, though.  But then, lots of stuff he told her about his father didn't make sense.  Like listening to sparrows falling out of trees.  Or hiding from people and seeing if they believed in him.  It was weird, too, how some of the things he said made her think of old women dressed in black and white, serious like him, using some of his words.  Actually, it was sort of confusing.  Maybe it was a dream she'd had.

Sometimes, she felt sure, Godsson just made things up.  He was the one who made her realize that Grups made things up too.  They wouldn't ever admit it, but.  Like the way none of them – except for Uncle – would admit that
it
existed in the woods outside.  They'd just look blank, and pretend they didn't know what she was talking about.  Scaredy cats.

-

'… forty days and forty nights, until the whole world flooded.'

Sara giggled, leaning against the closed door to his room as she stood on the broken chair.

Through the thickened glass of the small observation window, Godsson looked offended.  'Nearly everyone died, Sara.  It's not a
funny
story.'

'No, I wasn't laughing at
that
.  I was just remembering when I built my dam in the Forest, and it broke and flooded all the roses and washed into some of the Castle's rooms.  Boy, did I get into trouble for that!  There were cleaning bots
everywhere
, for days.

'Anyway, they were all bad, the ones who died, so it doesn't matter.  And I don't see why your father made all the other animals drown too.  And what about other people on boats.  And why did he kill all the animals, but not the fish?'

Godsson opened his mouth, then shut it.  Then did it again.

'It's raining now, you know?  Maybe it'll last for forty days and nights, and the whole
Castle
will flood!  Hey, I could probably build a
great
dam today.  Why didn't I think of that before?  Thanks!  Bye!'

She waved; hopped down from the chair; dragged it back down to its usual place at the end of the corridor; then raced off.

Chapter 11 

That winter passed slowly, with only Faith to play with, and Godsson to chat to just for fun.  Chats with her uncle always seemed to turn into lessons.

Apart from Mr Shanahan, everyone except Sara preferred to stay warm inside.  Even the security officer stayed mainly in his small house, set off to one side and behind the bigger, sprawling building.  She was the only person who spent the better part of each day outside, most of it with Faith.

Best of all was when it snowed, since then there were snow tunnels and snowmen to build.  She always built two or three, since that way they could all talk and she could pretend they were real.  It was nice being able to make new friends.  The first one always got to help her decide who to make next, and got to suggest names for them, and help decide whether each would be a boy or a girl.

Except it was awful sad when they melted.  It was almost enough to stop her making them.

Almost.

She didn't tell Uncle, though.  Somehow, she just knew he wouldn't approve. And he'd probably do his stupid wiggly-finger thing and then give her a lecture.

The snow was also great for following tracks.  They were like story books written in a secret language that showed where the animals lived, and drank, and ate.

She'd also learned that her arrows, even now she'd removed the dumb cups, didn't really hurt the animals.  She'd looked on the net and found out you needed wicked-looking metal tips to do that.  She wasn't sure she wanted them, though.  She was kind of glad when her uncle said he wouldn't buy any for her.  It meant she only scared the animals – or made them cross! – when she shot them.

Also when it snowed she could drag a sled – another gift from her uncle! – up the gentle hills in the Institute grounds to whoosh back down.  She could do that for hours.  Warmly clad, she'd play outside for most of the day.  That was another good thing about being here.  Her uncle wasn't as strict as the nuns had been in making her do her net lessons as… they used to be.

It was on a crisp winter day, after Faith had been called away and she was by herself, that she first felt them: felt there were things invisible, around her.  Not really watching her, just… doing their own stuff.  Not even really aware of her.

She discovered that if she looked, though, she lost them.

But as the days passed and she practiced her not-looking, the more she started to see them.  Well, not
see
them, exactly.  More like, see or hear their shadows: how they affected the plants and stuff around them.  Sometimes she saw their traces in the clouds; sometimes in the wind as it raced through the trees, bending their trunks or twisting and dancing in their branches.  Sometimes they flowed softly and gently over the trees and through them, stroking their leaves and petting their trunks, sliding up and around the rough silvery bark, rubbing and scratching themselves against those slow and patient warriors and wardens.

She realized these must be the invisible spirits that her uncle had told her lived in the Forest.

Sometimes, when they were playful, she danced and played with them.  She'd pretend they could see her, and were dancing with her.  And she'd spin and twist alongside them till she was dizzy; leaping and tumbling and even touching them, imagining their surprise as her fingers shivered over them, while they flowed and coiled around her in turn.  And then they'd leap and race and dance together, swooping down the green pathways that tunneled between tall trunks, kissing and brushing over the feathery outstretched fronds of fern or the green-budding leaves, until finally they'd gyre up into the trees to leave her laughing below, breathless and excited, blowing a farewell wish.

Once or twice, Faith raced with her, a faint air of confusion on her doggy features even as she enjoyed the thrill of the chase, or the dance, whichever it was.

But the monster was quite, quite different.

For it, clouds would usually be the first sign, as they darkened the sun: as if that somehow made a space, a hole where the monster could slip out from its hiding place and into the world.  The next sign was always a stillness, a silence.  And a coldness, too.  Always, then, the others fled, leaving the wind curiously hollow: just air blowing, joyless and busy, hurrying on its way from somewhere to somewhere-else.

The sounds would drop, too.  First the birds and other animals.  Then the insects would falter and fall silent.

Usually, it would just move in a straight line, before fading out.  Or, sometimes, it would instead double back, and she'd sense it marching back the way it came, then reversing its path, over and over again.  Times like that, she thought it was confused.  Or, maybe, not properly awake.