As Amos moved feebly on to the attack, clenching his fists ready to strike, Ziegler called his pack. The wolves padded forward, slow and deliberate. Meanwhile, their wolf-man leader put up an arm to intercept Amos’s weak punch. He thrust him back down on to the frozen ground.
This was too much for Orlando, who jumped from the porch and ran to Amos’s side. He tried to help him back on to his feet.
The wolves advanced around the edge of the pond. They padded softly, gathered behind Ziegler then waited again.
And I was reeling, locked into my own confused thoughts as I watched the scene unfold. Why did I get this wrong? I asked myself.
‘Because we’re good at what we do.’ Ziegler read my mind and gave me my answer in a voice that snapped and snarled. ‘We were in control every step of the way – it was simple to make you see it the way we wanted you to see it.’
Closing my eyes to calm myself and think, I picked up on the word ‘we’. ‘You and who else?’ I demanded, watching warily as Orlando supported Amos and the wolves moved in.
‘Hah!’ Ziegler’s laugh was more like a bark. He put up a hand to halt the wolves. ‘Tell your boyfriend to stand clear,’ he warned.
I didn’t have time to speak, and anyway I knew Orlando wouldn’t desert the weak old man. As I watched him draw the antique knife from his belt, my heart raced with fear.
Ziegler laughed again. With a quick gesture, he ordered five wolves to close in on Orlando and separate him from Amos. Orlando flashed the blade in their faces, slashing the lead wolf across the muzzle. The wolf whined and recoiled. Then Orlando took Aaron by the wrist and together they darted through the gap and disappeared into the shadows.
‘Let them go,’ Ziegler ordered angrily. He turned back to Amos. ‘You had your uses but your time is over,’ he reminded him.
This time Amos recognized the power of his enemy and didn’t struggle to his feet. As the wolf pack closed in, he made no move to save himself. He waited until the last second, until the snapping jaws were so close he must feel their hot breath on his face, which was drained of emotion. He looked up at the dark sky and raised his arms wide in that gesture he used to summon the Great Creator, only now it was the gesture of a martyr accepting his fate.
Then, instead of waiting for cruel wolves to pounce and tear him apart, Antony Amos flung himself backwards into the black water.
18
The leader of New Dawn sank out of sight while the far-off siren wailed anew. Disappointed, the wolves stared down at their own distorted reflections.
Wolf man Ziegler laughed and barked.
A second emergency siren sounded, a renewed warning.
There was a loud explosion, a sudden boom and then the distant roar of water. Daylight filtered through the tall trees, the wolves lowered their heads and whined.
The corpses of West Point graveyard float free of their coffins, they rise to the surface. This is the time, the place of death, darkness, suffering. I float with the skulls, am flung by sinuous brown water against uprooted trees, driftwood, capsized boats. A current drags me down. I am drowned. The flesh is stripped from my body. I am bone.
As the Turner dam gave way and water poured through, I turned and ran.
I fled to high ground, fearing the wolf’s breath, the swirl of icy water, the black monster rising. Ziegler appeared ahead of me, beside me, behind me, wearing his wolf pelt, fleet of foot, grinning at the chase.
There were five, six, seven of his ghostly images on the hillside, lurking under trees, leaping from rock to rock. Once he came close enough for me to smell his foul breath and see his face – more wolf than man now. He thrust his blunt muzzle into my face and I stared into what should have been his amber eyes. There was nothing – black holes, emptiness. He was a shadow, an illusion. Angrily, I dismissed him from my mind and changed direction. I carried on alone, climbing until I cleared the tree line.
Amos was not my enemy and Richard Ziegler was now my focus – a guy with a colourful history – daredevil stuntman and body double, petty criminal, convert. He was the team leader who’d been in charge of the rescue effort when Conner had drowned, who had driven Holly back to New Dawn after her accident, whose amazing good looks should have rung alarm bells in my head from the start. That’s one of the things with the love thieves that makes them so powerful and deceptive – their unnatural, mesmeric beauty.
And Ziegler had said ‘we’. The word had fallen naturally from his lips. There were other dark angels, of course – a whole army of them according to Zenaida, enough to outnumber the forces of light. And my job was still to work my way through their ranks until eventually I discovered their leader and named him.
For a few seconds the sun cleared the clouds, there was a breath of warmth on my face.
The fleeting suggestion of my dove’s presence gave me confirmation that I was right to follow this plan, plus it gave me the physical strength to climb on into the snowy wasteland until I had a clear view of the valley below.
At first I didn’t recognize the scene. The dam – the cement wall that had held back all those millions of litres for more than five decades was gone. A dark-brown deluge had engulfed the snow-lined valley. Power lines were down, the poles swept away like matchsticks, and the tiny, toy-sized yellow diggers and tractors sent to shore up the breach with sandbags were turned on their sides and swept away on a mocking tide of destruction.
And alongside the distant desolation, another factor began to play its part as I felt cold flecks on my cheeks, lifted my eyes to the grey sky and saw that a steady snow had begun to fall.
My stomach churned and tightened. How many workers were already lost? Would residents at New Dawn make it to higher ground in time? Where were Orlando and Aaron?
Without answers to any of these questions, pressed on up the mountain until I came to the place I recognized as Shaman Overlook – the flat ledge of rock with the overhang where Holly’s Hawk band had camped overnight.
Relieved to see that the Explorer’s old shelter was still intact, I hurriedly crawled inside. Protected from the wind and snow, I drew my legs up to my chest and tried to conserve my body heat. Snowflake flurries blew in through the opening so I retreated further under the tarp roof, only to find I was sharing the shelter with a sharp-featured, stinking, wild-eyed fox. More startled even than me, she snarled then bounded free of the enclosed space, out on to the mountain. I groaned, let my forehead drop onto my knees and waited for my heart to stop pounding.
‘Be brave,’ a voice murmurs. It’s borne on the wind. It rattles the loose corners of the tarp roof. ‘Hold fast to what you believe. Know your enemy, name your angel of death.’
I’m in my garden, the aspen leaves are still golden and my mourning dove perches on a branch. Zenaida macroura, also known as rain dove – I cling to the known facts.
She is not common-or-garden grey. Her feathers are flecked with brown and black, her breast and belly are pink. She rises with a whistle of wings and flies to a high branch where she can look out across the valley towards Shaman Overlook.
‘I will guide you,’ she promises. ‘When the water bursts through the dam and carries all before it, do not be afraid. It will sweep away evil committed by the dark angels; the valley will be cleansed.’
I sit quietly in the sunlight.
‘The dark angels will resist but the water is strong. Look for them in the wild places of the high mountains, remember they are subtle and vengeful, that they cannot escape the hell of their own making. They bring darkness with them.’
In my garden, in the evening sun of early autumn, I sigh at Zenaida’s wise prophecy.
‘Once they were like me, beautiful angels of light. The heavens were at peace. And then darkness entered their hearts – ambition and pride – and they fell through the immensity of space into eternal misery.’
I watch her and I understand with the finality of nails being knocked into my own coffin that there is nowhere to hide from my dark angel.
I gaze up at my dove, my guardian who sits on the branch amidst the golden leaves of fall, the mirror image of those fallen spirits. Where they plummet, she soars. Where there is a long, dark night, there will eventually be light.
Snow fell softly and the water rose. Hunched at the door of my shelter, I watched as if mesmerized the reddish-brown flood flecked with yellow foam. It rose and reached the door to the social centre at New Dawn and the porch of Jean-Luc’s cabin. The irresistible current brought down the porch supports, sent the roof crashing in slow motion into the water. In the next inlet, the community’s rescue boats were overturned and carried away. I was looking in dread for the black monster to rise and slough off filthy flood water, to spread his wings, not expecting the appearance of Jarrold further along the ledge.
I saw him and leaped out of the shelter, slipped and fell into a deep drift, struggled clear and started to run.
There was no chance – he was bound to overtake me.
He caught me by the shoulder and thrust me down, fell in the snow beside me and trapped me with one arm. ‘It’s cool!’ he insisted. ‘I’m not going to hurt you.’
‘Let me go!’ I fought back, slithered free. He trapped me again.
‘Tania, Orlando’s OK. Do you hear me? He and Aaron got out in Jean-Luc’s car. They drove up the Jeep track to Spider Rock – they’re safe.’
Suddenly my muscles went slack. I lay on my back, arms outspread, snow settling on my face. When Jarrold pulled me to my feet, I glanced down at my impression and saw that it was like the angel shape a kid makes in the snow.
‘Everything’s going to be OK,’ Jarrold assured me. He lowered a backpack from his shoulder and handed me an extra jacket. When he saw that my fingers were too stiff to work the zipper, he helped me fasten it.
‘Did you know – Amos is dead?’ I whispered.
This was obviously new, but he tried to suppress his shock. ‘How?’
‘Ziegler.’
Jarrold stopped me before I could go on. ‘Poor old guy, I knew it would be endgame for him sooner or later. Ziegler couldn’t keep this dark angel stuff hidden for ever.’
‘You know about that?’ I gasped. I couldn’t take my eyes off Jarrold’s face. I saw his warm breath turn to mist, the white, crystallized frost forming on his pale golden lashes.
‘Yeah, it’s time we came clean,’ he murmured, one arm around my shoulder as he led me back into the shelter. ‘You know Conner – how he was sent here?’
‘By the others – the angels of light.’
‘So you know how the good angels work,’ he nodded. ‘I’m like him, I do the same job. They sent us both here to keep an eye on things and report back.’
‘Why didn’t you tell me?’ I hissed. The dark, intimate space was filled by our urgent words as outside the snow kept on falling.
‘I wasn’t sure about you, Tania. You know how hard it is.’
‘To know your enemy from your friend? Yes, I do.’ We were in a warm cocoon of new friendship and trust. I can’t tell you how great that started to feel.
‘Ever since we met, I’ve been checking you out, wanting every day to trust you but never being sure. But since you came back for Holly and Aaron, I finally understand whose side you’re on.’
‘You’ve been checking me out?’ I echoed. I wanted to believe him, found no solid reason not to, so in one split second I let my defences tumble. Boom! The water burst through the dam.
He read my mind. ‘Finally, you get it,’ he breathed. He smiled, leaned forward and kissed me.
This once, I forgave the kiss. The worst thing is to be alone. When the world falls apart and you need a hand in yours, you ease your boundaries.
‘You’re sure Orlando and Aaron are OK?’ I checked as we made our way along a ridge that Jarrold told me would lead us to a National Forest field centre. He described a hut high above New Dawn, where a team of meteorologists dropped by all year round to carry out weather measurements.
‘I spoke to them myself. They definitely made it to that other shelter at Spider Rock.’
‘How did you do that? We can’t get a cell phone signal out here in the wilderness.’
‘Two-way radio,’ Jarrold explained. ‘There was one in Jean-Luc’s car.’
‘And how about Holly?’
‘I tried to contact Channing, but guess what – he wasn’t answering his radio.’
‘Can we use yours now?’ I asked. ‘It would be so cool to hear Orlando’s voice.’
‘Sorry, Ziegler took it away. I think he’s starting not to trust me.’
‘Likewise.’ I grimaced, and I described my confrontation with Ziegler and the wolves outside his cabin. ‘But he’s not the main guy,’ I insisted. ‘Now that I know Amos wasn’t in charge, it has to be someone else.’
‘Maybe Ziegler.’ Jarrold wasn’t ready to let this one go. ‘If not him, who?’
‘I don’t know yet.’ Reaching out my hand as I stumbled into yet another drift, I felt Jarrold steady me. ‘Thanks,’ I breathed. ‘How far to the field centre?’
‘Ten minutes. Maybe fifteen.’
We walked on hand in hand, two small figures trudging through the snowscape like two black crows on a vast sloping roof. At last, on a small flat ledge, I saw the hut we were looking for.
Noticing footprints leading to the door, I realized some of the Explorers must have made it to this shelter before us and felt excited by this. ‘I wonder who we’ll find.’
Jarrold glanced down at the flood water still sweeping down the valley, uprooting more trees and cabins. Weirdly, the highest part of the island in the middle of Turner Lake was still visible – the one point of safety for any animal unlucky enough to be caught out there. ‘How scary is that,’ he muttered, leading me up to the cabin door.
We stepped inside to find Ava, Kaylee, Marta and Blake huddled around a small wood stove.
‘Hey, a witches’ coven,’ Jarold joked. ‘Hubble, bubble … !’
Kaylee and Blake looked at us without surprise or amusement. Kaylee was feeding the stove with split logs that crackled and spat out sparks. Blake leaned idly against the far wall. Ava and Marta sat with their backs to us and didn’t even turn to greet us.
I felt a jolt of unease.
‘Good job, Jarrold,’ a voice said from outside the door and I loosed his gloved hand and spun around to see Aurelie backed by Ziegler and Channing. They stepped in out of the cold.
I gasped and felt a dry click in my throat. When I looked at Jarrold he was still smiling.
‘Endgame, huh?’ he mocked.
‘You swore to me that you and Conner were my allies, my angels of light.’
‘And you bought it.’ That smile of victory showed me his true heartlessness.
‘You’re worse than all the rest – even Ziegler or Channing. You betrayed me!’
‘Finally you get it.’ Jarrold carried on enjoying the moment, staring right into my eyes, seeing my heartbreak.
‘You’re shocked?’ Aurelie’s voice was pitying. Her black fur coat came high under her chin. She wore black leather gloves and boots.
Jarrold gave a laugh that sounded like a sharp bark. His face was darkening and changing shape. His body melted and morphed until it became half wolf.
‘Oh, Tania, Tania!’ Aurelie sighed. ‘For all your intelligence and psychic powers, still somehow you remain so gullible.’
Inside I wept, though I wouldn’t let my agony show inside that small, crowded mountain hut. I held my head up in the face of my real dark angel, even as a wind blew through the open door and daylight faded. Channing and Ziegler stepped forward and bound my wrists behind my back.
I appealed to the only people there who I still believed in. ‘Marta, Ava – don’t let them do this. Help me!’
The two girls turned to face me. Marta’s dark hair was loose, partly obscuring her pale-grey eyes. Ava stared straight ahead as if she didn’t see me. Blake and Kaylee came to join them.
‘Don’t let them take me prisoner!’
I made one last appeal as Aurelie stepped aside and let Channing and Ziegler drag me outside.
I resisted, looked over my shoulder and saw the four Explorer girls swallowed by dark, shifting shadows. When, seconds later, they followed us out into the snow, each was totally transformed into a sleek grey wolf.
Beautiful, shining eyes glared at me as they padded slowly forward and surrounded me. Thick, dense coats, tails tipped with white. Slender bodies with sloping backs, taut abdomens, strong necks. Jaws that would snap and grind my bones, teeth that would tear my flesh.
Marta, Ava, Kaylee, Blake – I had wild-walked with them and believed they were my friends, but each had hidden their secret dark souls. They too had betrayed me. I cried out in despair.
At my side, Ziegler and Channing had taken wolf-man form, foul pelts slung across their broad shoulders, heads hanging like hoods down their naked backs. Their faces and chests were striped with dark red war paint, their black eyes glittered.
And ahead of me, wolf-man Jarrold stood beside dark angel Aurelie. The lower half of his face was painted crimson, the upper half was white. His blond hair was matted, his eyes cold and cruel.
They mocked me with their smiles as they confronted me. ‘Did you really believe I belonged to … the opposition?’ Jarrold couldn’t bring himself to say the words, ‘angels of light’. He turned his head and spoke casually to Aurelie. ‘You were right – fooling her was child’s play.’
‘I told you to play on her innocence.’ Aurelie’s tone carried spite and triumph in equal measures. They were evident in the twisted smile that played across her lips. ‘Tania’s heart is pure. She has no clear concept of how high we soared in the heavens, or how far we fell. But now she knows we will use any means – we will lie, cheat, flatter and deceive to regain power, even over one single soul such as Holly. And truly there is nowhere to hide.’
As Aurelie spoke, her glossy black coat began to dissolve and change shape until she stood in the snow with a wolf-cloak around her shoulders. Like Ziegler, Channing and Jarrold, her lean torso was bare to her waist, but unlike them, her beautiful face remained unpainted – flawless and eerily calm.