Alyzon Whitestarr

  “What do I care about your love for me!” Serenity demanded of Da. “I will show you what true love is.” She smiled at Da, an empty curl of bloodless lips. She brought her two hands together. She was holding something, fumbling minutely. I saw a tiny orange light flare and die.

  In my mind’s eye I saw Mum’s painting. The blank eyes floating in flames.

  “Oh God,” I whispered. I opened my mouth to scream out to Da, to warn him. But Serenity had lit another match, and as she brought it toward her, she said distantly, “Why don’t you sing now, Da? Sing while I burn.”

  There was only one thing I could try to do, and I did it.

  “Catch her!” I screamed and thought as hard as I could. I saw Da throw down the mike and begin to run toward the scaffolding. Then I turned my will on Serenity and pushed her as hard as I could. The push hurt me more than anything I had ever experienced. I tried to resist the great sledgehammer of darkness that was descending on me, but I had nothing left to resist with.

  I fell like a stone into utter blackness, my last sight Serenity falling, flaming.

  I dreamed of flames leaping and crackling all around me. I dreamed of people crying out and of a gelid, yawning emptiness that gloried in the screams and fear and anguish and the terrible smell of burning flesh.

  “Alyzon …”

  I heard the urgency in the unfamiliar voice and part of me wanted to respond to it, but beyond the light waited some unimaginable pain that I could not bear to face.

  “Alyzon.” Another voice, and one I knew. I let it draw me up until slowly I became aware of my head and body. I groaned and retched because I was aching all over. I felt as if I had been savagely battered.

  “… blood around her mouth could mean internal bleeding,” said the unknown voice, a woman’s, calmly.

  I opened my eyes and saw flames leaping high and exultant in the darkness. Had I simply climbed from one fiery dream into another?

  “Careful,” the other voice said swiftly.

  I became aware of the salty metallic taste of blood in my mouth. “My … father …”

  “Shh,” said the woman authoritatively. “Where is that orderly with my bag?”

  I saw now that the speaker wore white. Then quite suddenly, I remembered Sylvia lifting the camera, the moon glaring out of the night sky like a baleful, unforgiving eye. I saw the snarling terror of the sickness when I opened myself to it, and felt the terrible sucking drain of energy it had taken to push physically at Serenity.

  I tried to sit up in my agitation, but hands held me down gently but firmly.

  I shuddered. I had tried to save Serenity by pushing her off the scaffolding, with the slim hope that Da might have got to her in time to break the fall and to put out the flames, but she had been so high. And she had been burning as she fell.

  I tried to speak, but the paramedic had risen and was speaking to two security men now, pointing away into the fitful darkness.

  I realized when darkness fluttered its wings around me that I was not far from drifting back to unconsciousness. I willed it away, but doing so brought the hovering headache down to roost. It sunk its claws so deep into my skull that I moaned and lifted both hands to my head to stop it from bursting apart.

  “Alyzon! Alyzon, ye have to resist it. We’ll find a way tae heal ye. I swear …” It was Harrison, kneeling beside me, his face taut with fear and revulsion, his accent stronger than I had ever heard it. His words told me that he had seen Harlen holding on to me, and thought I was infected. Before I could summon the energy to reassure him, someone gave a shout, and we watched as a high bit of burning scaffolding gave way with a metallic creak, folding slowly sideways. There was a loud twanging sound, and a severed cord flicked up and began snaking dementedly, hissing and shedding sparks. The sudden brightness illuminated Harrison’s eyes as he looked down at me.

  “I love you,” I said.

  “What did ye say?” Harrison asked.

  “I’m not infected, Harrison. What happened to Da and Serenity?”

  “You’re not … that’s …” He drew a long breath and visibly collected himself. “They’re fine. They’ve been taken tae the hospital. We can go after them as soon as the paramedic gives ye the OK.”

  I lurched up into a sitting position with a violent effort. I could not bear to think about the numbness in my mind. “I … I’m weak. Help me up.”

  He obeyed, and when I was on my feet, he asked, “What happened? I saw Harlen—”

  “He tried to infect me,” I said. I couldn’t talk about the rest yet, because I was beginning to understand what the night had cost me. “Harrison, what happened when Serenity fell?”

  “Your da grabbed some tarpaulins and broke her fall, and then he smothered the flames, someone said.”

  “You didn’t see it?”

  He shrugged ruefully. “I was being dealt with by your bouncer friend. But once the fire got into the scaffolding and the wiring he had tae let me go, because there was a stampede for the gates. A lot of people were hurt, which is why the place is crawling with paramedics and police.”

  I swayed against him. “You’re not OK,” he said, looking alarmed.

  “Don’t let me go,” I whispered.

  His arms tightened.

  Around us the scene seemed even more chaotic now that I was upright, and the firelight gave it all a nightmarish quality. There was the scaffolding and stage consumed in flame, white jets of water from a fire truck parked to one side, the firemen invisible except for the fluorescent stripes on their hard hats and coats. Some of the trailers behind the stage were also in flames, and I could see the shapes of people silhouetted against the light. There were lots of people around us, too. Some were clearly audience members who had not yet left, but there were also uniformed police, roadies, bouncers, and people in service uniforms. In the distance I could still see the cluster of tents, and I wondered what had happened to Aaron Rayc and all of the wealthy, famous people who had been there.

  “Raoul!” I cried, remembering.

  “It’s all right,” Harrison said soothingly, but at that moment the paramedic returned with her bag.

  “You’re up,” she said with resigned disapproval. “Well, let’s have a look at you.” She opened her bag and shone a small flashlight into my eyes, then she pressed my head gently and asked some questions before telling me I was lucky that I had a hard skull. Another paramedic came hurrying by and asked her to come and help him with a couple of kids who looked as if they had overdosed on something behind the stage.

  “I think there were a lot more hard drugs than you would usually get at this sort of thing,” I told Harrison, after they had hurried off. “One guess who supplied them, or at least made sure they were available.”

  Harrison steered me gently in the direction of the tents. “Come on. Let’s find your brother.”

  “Jesse’s here?”

  “How do you think I got here?” Harrison asked.

  I hadn’t wondered, I realized. It had seemed so right and natural that he would be here when I needed him.

  Harrison explained. “Jesse called Raoul’s cell tae tell you that Serenity had disappeared again. It was out of range, so the service routed the call tae his home phone. Gilly and I answered, of course, and he told us your sister had gone off in a green van. It was Jesse who figured out that Serenity was headed here. Gilly and me were all for driving right tae Shale-town, but Jesse said we had it all wrong. It wasnae the government or the detention center Serenity wanted tae hurt. It was your da. He figured she would attack him.”

  “I thought that, too, when I saw her in the scaffolding. But she never meant to harm Da physically. She was supposed to sacrifice herself in such a way that it would destroy him in front of all those people. And everyone who saw what happened would have been wounded by it.”

  “Jesus,” Harrison muttered.

  “What happened when you arrived?” I asked.

  He laughed. “Your brother just railroaded the heavies
at the gate, saying it was an emergency. Talk about determined. He didnae lose his temper, but he just went on and on and he was so smart he sounded like a lawyer pleading a case in court. Maybe that’s what they thought he was, because in the end they let us in tae see Raoul. As soon as we were in, I sneaked off. I was supposed to warn your father. Jesse and Gilly were going tae find Raoul and you. We had no idea you were over here already.”

  He stopped, seeing Raoul and Gilly coming toward us, Jesse with them looking pale and frantic. “Alyzon,” he said. “Thank goodness you’re safe.” Then he did a double take, obviously getting close enough to see the blood. “What the hell happened to you?”

  “It’s just a bloody nose,” I assured him.

  Jesse gave a distracted nod. “Where are Da and Serenity?”

  “An ambulance took them away,” I said. “Jesse, did you hear what happened when—”

  “Hear it!” Jesse exclaimed. “I saw it. We all did. It was on screens all around us. The classical music stopped and the sound went up so you had no choice but to look and listen. Da and Neo Tokyo were onstage playing, but we could see Serenity in the scaffolding—”

  “You saw her before your father stopped singing?” Harrison asked.

  “In close-up. Thank heavens she fell and Da could get to her in time,” Jesse said fervently.

  “You definitely saw Serenity in the scaffolding before Macoll stopped singing?” Harrison asked again in a queer, urgent voice.

  This time it was Gilly who answered. “She was just standing there staring down at your da. He didn’t know she was there until people in the audience or maybe some roadies noticed her and started reacting. Then he looked up and stopped singing. You could see because the camera angle changed and we were looking at Alyzon’s da from over Serenity’s shoulder. God, the look on your da’s face when she was talking …” She shivered.

  Jesse said, “It wasn’t until she lit the match that we understood she must have doused herself with gas. God, I still can’t believe it!” He shook his head. “Alyzon, I have to go home and get Mum and Mirandah and Luke. I’ll take them straight to the hospital. Maybe you could go there now if Raoul …” He glanced back at Raoul, who nodded gravely.

  * * *

  We were in Raoul’s car when Gilly said, “Why do you suppose the fire caught the stage and scaffolding so well? I mean, you’d think it would have been mostly metal ….”

  “I think the scaffolding was doused in gasoline,” Harrison said. “That’s why the bouncers were so fanatical about keeping people back. They must have been given orders tae make damn sure no one got past the barrier. No one wanted the audience to get burned. Not physically, anyway.”

  “But why would anyone put gas on the scaffolding?” Gilly asked.

  “Tae make sure there was no proof that the whole bloody thing was stage-managed for maximum impact. You realize there was a camera rigged to film Serenity burning herself. There had tae have been a mike as well. How else could we have heard her so well? And what about the lights on her?”

  “But the police—”

  “Wouldnae think of looking for evidence that there was some sort of setup,” Harrison said. “After all, it was a stage, and they wouldn’t think twice about seeing cameras and mikes. Police’d blame the whole thing on your sister, and that would be that. So long as the evidence was destroyed and no one stirred up any questions. If anyone thought tae wonder about how they could see or hear Serenity so well, they’d probably dismiss it, thinking the stage mikes must have picked up her voice, and that she was illuminated by incidental lighting. Because why on earth would anyone want tae film such a thing?”

  That made me think of Sylvia Yarrow. I needed to tell them what I had figured out about her filming. But first, I had to do something else.

  “I have to go back,” I said.

  “I’m coming with you,” Harrison announced.

  “No. I saw Gary Soloman back there, and I can tell him what you’ve just said. He’ll talk to the police, and that’ll make them look for proof while it’s still there to be found. And he’ll write about it.” I looked at them all: Harrison with his cut and bruised cheek, white-faced Gilly, and stern Raoul emanating strength and purpose. I realized how much they meant to me, how their strengths had given me strength. “I don’t want them to get away with this. This is part of what will destroy Aaron Rayc.”

  “Alyzon, do you realize that Harlen—” Raoul began.

  “Is the son of Dita Rayc and her first husband. I figured it out when I saw them together.”

  “He’ll be back there,” he said. “What if he tries again?”

  “He won’t,” I said. “I don’t think he will ever do anything much again.” I felt a stab of pity for him.

  Harrison’s eyes widened as he understood what the others did not. I said to them all, “I have to go back alone because we don’t want Gary Soloman to know who you all are, remember?”

  “She’s right,” Raoul said.

  “Soloman might have gone,” Harrison protested.

  “He’s a journalist,” I said simply. “And this is a big story that links to something he has been investigating. Would you leave if you were him?”

  “What if Aaron Rayc is back there?”

  “It doesn’t matter. He can’t infect me.”

  “We dinnae know that for sure,” Harrison said flatly. “Besides, a man who would set up a thing like this is capable of anything, and ye might have special abilities, but you’re still flesh and blood.”

  “Harrison, I have to go back.”

  * * *

  I ran into the muddle of light created by fire engines, flashlights, and flames. The wire barrier had been trampled flat at the center, and I stepped over it. There was a lot of smoke drifting from the stage, and I found myself walking back into a shifting darkness. I coughed and gagged and squinted, trying to make out the faces of people in the red-brown light.

  I had figured a journalist would be at the heart of the chaos, and I was right. I found him by the stage talking to a burly policeman. I waited until the officer had turned away, then spoke his name. Gary Soloman turned and stared at me. “Alyzon,” he said, almost uncertainly. “I’m sorry about what happened to your sister.”

  “She did what she did because she’s sick, but she would never have got this far on her own,” I said, wanting him to understand. “Someone convinced her to do what she tried to do tonight. And someone helped her. How else did she get all the way here in the middle of nowhere if someone didn’t drive her? How come she managed to get up on that scaffolding without anyone seeing her, with all those security guards? And why were the lights and cameras on her before she spoke, but no one gave the alarm and tried to get her down?”

  His gaze had narrowed. “Are you saying someone wanted a disturbed teenager to kill herself in front of a two-thousand-strong audience?” I looked at him levelly “All right. Who?” I let the silence force him to answer his own question. “Aaron Rayc?” His voice was tinged with incredulity.

  “I doubt he set all the stage stuff up personally, but he has a stepson who goes to our school. He was here tonight.”

  “Why?” he asked, with the same urgent curiosity as when he had asked why a boy would kill his little brother. But the truth was too fantastic and required proof I did not want to give—could no longer give. So I gave him a question.

  “Why would a wealthy businessman interest himself in artists of all kinds, and twist their lives out of shape?”

  Gary Soloman nodded slowly. “I don’t know the answer to that, and there is no clear proof that Aaron Rayc deliberately set out to change people or harm their lives. And there is no clear proof of what you are saying about tonight.”

  “You can interview people. Ask them about when the lights went on Serenity, make it clear in your story that the lights and camera and sound were all set to capture the action.”

  “My editor will refuse to print the story. He’ll call it libel. If you want a reputable paper t
o cover this, you need proof,” Gary said.

  Then I remembered. “I saw a girl filming the stage from behind the barrier. I bet she got Serenity climbing up into the scaffolding, and maybe she even got a shot of whoever was helping her.”

  “So what?” the journalist said. “It’s no good if some anonymous person has footage—”

  “She dropped the camera over there,” I pointed, wondering if it was possible that it was still there; that it hadn’t been trampled or destroyed by water or falling debris. “If you could find it and show it to the police, they’d have to find out who gave the orders to have the microphone and camera set up in the first place.”

  I was sure the camera would contain footage that would incriminate Harlen, but I also had a strong unfounded certainty that it might show Aaron Rayc, too, because the sickness in him would want to watch, would not be satisfied to see it on a television screen.

  I took Gary Soloman to where I had seen Sylvia Yarrow, and he got out his key ring and switched on a tiny flashlight. Then he began searching. I looked, too, but it was the journalist who found the camera, miraculously intact, and held it up with a cry of triumph. I could see that the record button was still glowing like a little red eye and wondered if it was possible it had fallen in such a way that it could have captured all that had happened.

  Gary Soloman trained his flashlight on it and began examining the mechanism.

  I took the chance to slip away. He had the scent now, and he would run with the story. If we were lucky it would tear Aaron Rayc and his reputation to pieces and maybe even put him away. And if the camera didn’t contain anything that Gary Soloman could use, next week I would send the stuff Daisy had unearthed.

  I had just about reached the ragged outer rim of the light from the fire when someone stepped out of nowhere to bar my way.

  Aaron Rayc.

  His eyes reflected the flames behind me, and to my horror and revulsion, he was smiling widely, his teeth oddly long and yellow-looking in the queer light. I had never seen a sight more frightening in my whole life, because it was not just the bloated, consuming sickness that he carried looking at me, but a man who had accepted and embraced it.