Half Lost

  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 that.”

  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.

  Golden

  I’m awake before dawn. The sky is brightening and Gabriel is asleep by me. The camp is still quiet. I’ve got the fire going. And I’m actually looking forward to the porridge when I feel a chill creeping into my bones and the grayness gradually slides over everything that I see. My vision, again.

  The golden glow fills half the sky and the forest seems to glow with it. I’m walking slowly through the trees. It’s as if I’m newborn and seeing the world for the first time. The air around me seems alive. It’s all amazing. All beautiful. Every detail is amazing. And the details go on and on. The colors, patterns, shapes, sounds, temperature, air. I turn and see Gabriel. And he is beautiful too. He waves at me to come. He holds his gun loosely at his side. Nesbitt is the dark figure disappearing beyond him. I look back at the beautiful meadow and trees and sun and then turn to go to Gabriel. And I’m flying backward through the air and the world changes to noise and pain and chaos and I land on the ground and look up and see sky and then see Gabriel’s face. And the pain in my stomach is intense, burning, and moving to my heart. It’s killing me and I know it.

  I’m dying.

  Camp One

  Me, Gabriel, Nesbitt, Celia, Adele, Kirsty, and Donna are on the way to Camp One. Celia seems to have taken Adele on as her personal assistant. Donna is being brought so that Van can make up a special truth potion that will give an answer one way or the other as to Donna’s loyalties. Her hands aren’t tied but Kirsty is glued to her side and, as Kirsty is almost twice the size of Donna, I’m fairly sure Kirsty can deal with her if she tries anything. Not that I think that’s going to happen.

  We will have to go through two cuts to get to Camp One, with a bit of a run in between them, but even so it will only be a few hours before I see Annalise. I’m not sure how I feel, other than impatient.

  At the first cut Gabriel grasps my left hand in his right and we interlock fingers while Celia guides Gabriel’s left hand to the cut. I take a deep breath as Gabriel is sucked through and I’m pulled after him and I breathe out as we slide through the darkness. The cut is so short that a faint light appears ahead immediately and then we’re out and on the forest floor at the other side. The others come through and Celia sets off again. We keep close to her. The pace is slower than I’d like but we quickly settle into a rhythm. The woodland thins out to open meadows and there’s snow on the ground.

  I ask Celia, “How far to the next cut?”

  “A mile, beyond the river.”

  I’m about to ask how far to the river when the ground steepens and we’re jumping down a riverbank into freezing- cold water. The current is strong. And then we’re scrambling up the other bank and running through knee-deep wet snow to a stand of trees.

  At the next cut, Celia guides everyone through, holding me back. She says, “Nathan, you wait and go with me.”

  Once the others have gone through, Celia says, “I need you to be
clear on what you’ll do when you see Annalise.”

  “Don’t worry—I’m clear.”

  “And what is it that you’re clear about?”

  “I told you: I want her to go to trial.”

  Celia studies me. “Is that the full truth of it?”

  “I won’t kill her unless the trial fails to provide me with justice. If they let her go, then I’ll . . . reestablish justice.”

  “What if they say she should be imprisoned?”

  “You want the full truth of it, Celia? I don’t know what I’ll do. But if they let her go then I will do something.”

  “She won’t go free. Not if the system works.”

  Celia grabs hold of my jacket and slides her free hand through the cut.

  At the other side of the cut it’s raining a fine drizzle. Celia says, “Nathan, stay close to me. It’s a fifteen-minute run to the camp.” It’s only when I say “OK” that she lets go of my arm. Then she sets off hard.

  Soon I’ll see Annalise. I want to see her. I hope she’s chained up. I want her to see me looking at her.

  We must be almost at Camp One when Celia slows the pace, then stops. She looks around and I know from the way she stands and moves that something’s wrong.

  “What?” I ask her.

  “There should be a lookout here.”

  The others join us and Nesbitt asks, “What’s up?”

  “I’m not sure,” Celia replies. “The camp’s four hundred meters ahead. Nathan, use your invisibility and check out the camp. Nesbitt, Gabriel, you scout the perimeter to the left. I’ll go to the right with Adele. Kirsty, you wait here with Donna. Meet back here in five minutes.”

  I go invisible and set off cautiously. I’ve only gone about a hundred meters when I hear a faint hiss. It’s the noise that mobile phones set off in my head. No one in the Alliance uses phones. Shit!

  I keep going, slowly. The hissing from the phones is barely there. But I creep onwards and it gets a little stronger. I’m still about two hundred meters from the camp. There have to be Hunters ahead. I move forward, not seeing any sign of them. Everything is still and quiet except for the faint hissing in my head.

  Shit! It’s too still, too quiet.

  I run back to Kirsty and Donna. Gabriel is there as well but none of the others. I tell Gabriel, “I can hear a hissing. It must be Hunters, but I don’t know how many. I think they might be on the far side of the camp, getting ready to attack. I need to get in there and warn them. You tell Celia.”

  “No, Nathan, wait.”

  But I’ve already turned invisible again and am running. I go fast, listening and looking all the time. I’m scanning for Hunters but see none. I slow at the edge of the camp. Camp One is not set in a clearing but the tents are dotted among the trees. There’s no noise of people. No noise of birds or anything. The only sound is the electric hiss of mobile phones in my head. But it’s very faint, fainter than before, as if the Hunters are moving away.

  I go closer to the tents, slowly, looking around all the time.

  Then I see someone. Her eyes are on me, wide open, but she’s not seeing anything and as I get closer to her I see there are no glints in her eyes. But I don’t need that to tell me she’s dead: the way she lies, so still, so awkward, says it all. She’s been shot in the head. I only see the wound when I move round her, neat and clean to the back of her skull. A few flies on it. I stare at her face, trying to remember if I’ve seen her before, but I’m not sure. She’s a member of the Alliance, not a Hunter.

  I move to a tent. Slowly, silently. I’m still invisible but I don’t want to risk anything.

  The tent seems to hold stores: cans, boxes, and blankets are scattered around its broken, collapsed frame. But then I spot someone I do recognize, his body half hidden by the tent canvas. Gus has a bullet hole in his chest. There are ants crawling across him.

  And at the next tent I see another body.

  And another.

  They’re all around.

  My heart races. This happened recently, but not that recently. Maybe this morning.

  But if it happened this morning and I can hear hissing then . . . I think the Hunters are leaving. They’re leaving but they’re not rushing. They don’t know we’ve arrived. Maybe we can follow them . . .

  I move through the camp, trying to locate where the hissing is coming from. Then I see a wooden building, a hut: the prison? I move closer, slow and steady. The door is broken down. Is Annalise in here?

  I lean inside the hut.

  Empty except for chains. They’re unlocked. Annalise must have been kept here. Did she go invisible and escape? More likely they have her.

  Then I hear a noise, footsteps behind me, and I turn to see Nesbitt racing through the camp, clearly not caring about the noise he makes. He looks panicked. Behind him in the distance are Gabriel and the others, fanning out through the trees.

  I become visible and say to Nesbitt, “I think the Hunters have only just left.”

  “Have you seen Van?”

  “No.”

  “She—”

  An explosion fills the air behind Nesbitt. He cowers and as he goes down I see Kirsty fly through the air, her body cartwheeling high and then falling to the ground.

  I’ve crouched down too.

  The sudden noise slowly drifts away. I look around for Hunters. Listen for them. Nothing.

  Celia shouts, “Booby traps! Don’t touch anything.”

  Donna is a pace or two from Kirsty’s body and she looks toward me. Her face is pale. Gabriel joins them and bends down. He calls to Celia, “Kirsty’s dead.”

  Nesbitt is already moving again. The ground is bare here, and there are numerous footprints: Hunter boot prints.

  I follow Nesbitt through the camp and into the trees beyond. I ask him, “How many?”

  “Lots. Twenty, maybe more.” His voice is different, shaky as he adds, “They’re dragging someone, maybe two people. Prisoners. Or wounded.”

  We’re moving away from the camp now, through the trees, and Nesbitt speeds up to a jog and then slows and he groans.

  I see past him to the body lying on the ground. Her hair is glistening with fine raindrops. Her eyes are open, the sapphire blue is still strong, but there are no glints in them. Her skin is pale. Her stomach is a mass of blood.

  “Van!”

  Nesbitt stumbles forward and I grab him in case he goes too close.

  She’s holding her cigarette case in her hand and I know he wants to take it but I say, “Don’t touch her, Nesbitt. They might have booby-trapped her body too.”

  He sits on the ground by her.

  I can’t hear hissing anymore. The Hunters are leaving but they still can’t be too far ahead.

  “Nesbitt, I think they have Annalise. We can still catch them if we keep going.”

  Nesbitt lets out a faint groan that gets louder and louder as he gets to his feet, roaring. He sets off fast, his rage taking him over. And I can tell he’s struggling to keep his breath, but on we go. He’s panting and grunting as we reach a small stream, and he leaps over it and goes uphill, through thin trees until we reach an open scrubby area and he stops. He’s panting hard and I realize he’s crying too.

  “That way,” he says, pointing.

  I go fast, Nesbitt behind me. I don’t think the Hunters will be invisible unless they’re attacking or think they are in danger so I’m hoping to catch sight of them soon. My breathing is slow and controlled. Uphill now. It’s hard, but we’ve got to be gaining on them, though Nesbitt has dropped well back.

  Then I hear it: a hiss.

  And over the next rise I see them. Distant black specks. Lots of them lined up at the edge of the bare rocks ahead. They’re going through a cut.

  I go invisible and run as hard as I can. Not thinking, just running. Eyes fixed on the line of bl
ack Hunters getting closer but also reducing in length.

  I can see the figures clearly now: there are nine, then seven. All in black except one. Annalise!

  I’m running hard. Breathing hard. Legs burning.

  I’m staring at Annalise, but then one more Hunter disappears and so does she.

  There’re four figures . . . three . . . two . . .

  One.

  And I recognize her. Jessica. But I’m too far away to hit her with my lightning. She looks toward me but doesn’t see me. I’m still invisible. Then she disappears.

  I keep my eyes locked on the cleft in the rock where she was standing. My legs are giving out now but I push them on and on and then I’m there. I slide my hand through the air, feeling for the cut.

  Nothing.

  And again. Nothing.

  And again.

  And again.

  Finding cuts is hard enough when you know exactly where they are. And I know it’s been too long. They’ll have closed it by now. But I keep trying. Sliding my hand through the air.

  I was so close to them. So close to Annalise.

  “Shit, shit, and fuck!”

  I try again and again.

  Nesbitt drops beside me, breathing heavily.

  It doesn’t matter that we were right behind them. The cut is closed.

  They’re gone.

  Every Second Is Precious

  It’s raining heavily as me and Nesbitt walk back to the camp. Celia and Adele are there, cautiously walking around. Donna is standing by one of the tents. She looks somber. Everyone is quiet, taking it all in: death and destruction, and the ground turning to mud. I go to Kirsty. Gabriel’s jacket covers the top half of her body; one of her legs is bloodied and bent horribly.

  Gabriel is sheltering under a tree. I tell him, “Van’s dead.”

  “Yes. But we can’t move her. Can’t bury her. Can’t even put a blanket over her in case her body has been booby- trapped.” He looks up at me and asks, “How can people do this?”