When I reached the courts, Amber was in the cellar where the node point was. She was stood against the wall, waiting.
"Has Alex come back through here?" I asked her.
She ignored my question. "Garvin wants to see you."
"What about Alex?"
"I haven't seen her."
"That doesn't answer my question."
"No," she said. "It doesn't."
I sighed and went up into the house.
"Garvin's in the weapons room, working out," she called after me.
I went upstairs first to Alex's room. The bed was unmade, items were scattered around the dresser, a book was open on the bed. It was a copy of Robert Louis Stevenson's Kidnapped. I wondered whether there was any significance to that. She had clothes in the drawers, make-up on the shelves. I tried to remember what she was wearing at the lake, but I had no clear recollection. Jeans? A T-shirt? It didn't matter anyway, since she could look however she wanted.
I looked for personal items; a purse, a piece of jewellery, a hair brush, to see if any of it had gone — and then realised that almost nothing in the room was actually hers. It was all borrowed, or bought for her, or provided for her so that she would be comfortable.
She told me: I want my music, my books, the things from home. I'd heard what she said, but hadn't understood the significance of any of it. I'd heard, but not listened.
I sat down on the bed, heavily. "Now what am I going to tell Katherine?"
I'd assumed that she'd come back to the courts, that she would return here at least to collect her things, even if she was going to try and return to her former life with her mother, but I sat in her room and realised the truth. She didn't need to. Nothing here was hers. She could walk away and not look back.
I rubbed by eyes, feeling tired and stupid. I hadn't considered what it would all mean for Alex. I knew Katherine would be upset and in the event she had acted predictably. We both had. It had sparked another in our long list of unresolved arguments and Alex had been left on the sidelines to watch. Worse than that, I hadn't realised why she was there. She wanted to see her parents reunited. She wanted a homecoming. The trouble was, the home she wanted to return to no longer existed.
Katherine was going to be angry. She would already be pissed off with me for leaving her in a wood. That had been petty, but I'd just wanted to prove to her once and for all that she didn't know everything, and that there were things that I couldn't explain, even if I wanted to. Now I had to tell her that I didn't know where her daughter was.
It would be better to find Alex before I had to explain that.
Alex waited until the noise ceased. She waited until the arguments were over and the shouting was done.
In the lake the sound was a muted echo. In the lake she didn't have to listen to her parents fighting. She had walked into the water to distract them from yelling at each other, but they hadn't even noticed. She could have drowned and they wouldn't care.
She didn't drown, though. They'd proved that again and again at Porton Down, holding her under while she kicked and struggled until she could hold it no more, until the water surged into her lungs on the indrawn breath. Only then did she realised she wasn't drowning. The water entered her lungs, but it didn't hurt her. It couldn't hurt her. It was hers, and it would support her and hold her, until the hurting stopped.
She'd spat water into the faces of the doctors, which had earned her a day in the goldfish tanks, the name the inmates gave to the glass-walled cages with iron wire woven into the walls and iron locks on the doors. They'd given her no food and only plain water, and left her to stew.
It had been worth it.
Beneath the surface of the lake it was dark, the water cloudy. Yes, it was cold, but she could handle it. She'd learned that in the goldfish tanks too, when they'd stripped her naked and thrown her in, turning the temperature down to soften her up. She remembered the goose-bumps on her skin, her embarrassment as she turned away from the glass to hide her growing breasts and the light fuzz of hair in her groin, only to see the camera staring down at her. She'd cowered in the corner as they leered through the glass at her. She'd cried… oh yeah, she'd cried. But then she'd got stronger. She'd learned how to stare back until it was they who turned away. She'd learned how not to cry.
The water wouldn't hurt her, no matter how deep she went, and she could lighten the pressure, easing the weight from her ears and from her drenched lungs. She could hang there, suspended in a cold embrace, for as long as she wanted. Eventually, though, she had to come up. Eventually the world wanted her back.
She surfaced and walked from the water. No one saw her emerge, no one noticed the water running from her sodden clothes, streaming from her nose and mouth. By the time she reached the edge of the coppice where the Way point was, she was dry. She looked back at the lake, wishing she could have stayed there, then walked into the wood.
I walked back down the hall to where Blackbird and I had our rooms. That was another thing — I had left Alex isolated when she should have had people around her. Yes, there were reasons for that, and initially there hadn't been any other choice but to keep her separate until she gained some control, but she could have moved to a room nearer to Blackbird and me days ago. It had been convenient to leave things the way they were until she joined the courts. She'd been making progress towards that — but now?
I found Blackbird sitting on the bed with my son laid out naked and wriggling on a towel spread across Blackbird's legs with his arms and legs waving around.
Is that wise?" I asked her. "One false move and we'll all get a sprinkling."
She sighed. "He was too hot. He's having a cool down." Reaching down, she stroked her hand across his tummy. He blew bubbles and kicked.
I sat on the end of the bed and looked down at my son. His eyes were pale grey, almost colourless. I wondered if they would stay that colour.
"How did it go?" Blackbird asked me. She knew I was meeting Katherine this morning. I'd had a restless night trying to think of a way to explain and, as a consequence, so had Blackbird.
"It went OK up to a point. Have you seen Alex at all?"
"No, I think… Niall?"
I looked up from the baby.
"What really happened?"
I sighed. "I met Katherine and I was trying to explain what happened last year, and then Alex appeared."
"What?"
"She just popped out of nowhere. One moment there was no one there and the next minute she's standing watching us."
"She used glamour. Perhaps she has more control that we've given her credit for."
"Katherine was emotional, it's understandable. I didn't get time to say anything that would soften the blow. She was just there. I don't think Katherine could believe her eyes at first. It was just so unexpected."
"How did she take it?"
"Badly. She blamed me, shouted at Alex, called me every name under the sun. Yes, I think it went entirely as expected," I sighed.
"And what about Alex?"
"That's the problem. I thought she'd gone off in a huff — come back here to sulk in her room. She's not there, I just looked. I was hoping that maybe she'd be in here, talking to you."
"How did she know where you were going?"
"Good question. But if she has enough control to master her glamour then she could have overheard all manner of things. She could have been there while I was talking to Tate. Maybe she overheard the conversation with the driver? Either way, she followed me to the meeting, or maybe she was there before me? I don't know."
"This is why we treat people with power as adults, Niall. Once they have power they have to grow up."
"Yes, well, she's had exceptional circumstances. It's been hard for her."
"It's hard for everyone. What will you do?"
"Do? I'll have to talk to Katherine. She might try and go home, which is what I was trying to avoid. Garvin won't want a public scandal and Alex is supposed to be dead. If people start seeing her near her house, there'll be ghost stories, TV crews… it'll get out of hand."
"What about Alex?"
"I owe her an apology."
"Really?" Blackbird raised an eyebrow.
"I suppose. I'm not sure what I did wrong, but whatever it was, it wasn't right for her. I failed her."
"No, Niall, you didn't fail her, but an apology would be the beginning of a new stage of your relationship. You're starting to think of her as an adult."
"I need to find her first."
"Not if she doesn't want to be found."
"I found her before." I found her when no one else could.
"Yes, but she wanted to be found. Now she wants some time alone. You're finding it hard to adjust to these changes, Niall, so how must she be feeling? She's growing up fast, and she's starting to understand that her parent's relationship isn't what she wants it to be. That's part of growing up too."
"I can't just let her run around loose. What do I tell Katherine?"
"Tell her you don't know where she is."
"She'll freak."
"Let her. It's not your fault, Niall. At least not all of it."
"Gee, thanks."
"I mean it. You bear the world on your shoulders, as if everything is your fault. You take responsibility for things that are outside of your control. You need to stop doing that, Niall, or you are going to drive yourself mad."
"My daughter is my responsibility."
"First and foremost she is her own responsibility. She is an adult, and if you treated her like one then she would probably be here now."
"You sound like Garvin."
"Rue the day I hear those words spoken again."
"Speaking of whom, I ought to go and find him. Amber said he was looking for me."
"Never a good sign," said Blackbird.
I stood up. My son gurgled and then wee started spraying from his nether parts. "Aaaah! Get a nappy!"
Blackbird calmly flicked the towel across so it damped down the spray and wrapped him into the towel. "Perfect," she said, nuzzling him. "We just get you clean and dry and look what you go and do?" He gurgled in response. "Come on, we'll go and find a nappy while your father goes and finds Garvin. I know which I'd rather do."
I left and headed downstairs to find my boss.
She could have gone back to the courts, but why walk back into a prison?
Oh, they called her a guest and they treated her well, but she knew a prison when she saw one. You could tell as soon as you tried to leave. She knew that all freedoms must be won, that all concessions must be fought for. Well, she was free. With the Ways at her disposal she could go anywhere she wanted.
She needed a direction. If she went down the Way without any clear idea of where she was going she knew she would be lost, and you could lose more than your sense of direction on the Ways. Fionh had drummed that into her, at least.
What did she want? She wanted her clothes, her things, her music. She wanted the things that made life bearable. Well, she knew where they were. It was just a matter of taking them. It wasn't stealing, they were her things, after all.
She stepped onto the Way, immersing herself in the rush as she hopped from one node to another. It was like skateboarding, only without grazed knees, and if you fell — well, you were falling anyway. She stepped from node to node, tracking southwards, following her limited sense of direction. It was only when she emerged in a park where the roads were patrolled by red buses and black taxis that she realised the she'd overshot and passed the suburb where she lived — where she used to live — some time ago. She was somewhere in London.
She'd been into London on many occasions, but rarely on her own. There was the time when she ran away from home, when she'd ended up at her dad's. The first thing her dad did was ring her mum and tell her that Alex was there. So much for teaching her mum a lesson. So much for running away.
She could use the Underground, though. She walked across the park and approached a lady in a smart suit and high heels.
"'Scuse me, but where's the tube station?"
The woman looked at her like she'd crawled out from under a rock and then walked away. How rude could you get? She'd only asked for directions. There was no need to treat her like that.
Alex continued walked across the park, finding that people changed track to avoid her. She shook her head. City people were so rude. She walked across the road and headed down the street to the corner, trying to get her bearings. As she reached the cross-street she could see the familiar outline of the BT Tower above the buildings. She wasn't far from the centre then. Not far from Oxford Street, and shops, and cappuccino bars.
She turned and headed towards the BT Tower and civilisation. As she walked she went past a bookshop and glanced sideways into the large window. Her reflection met her gaze. No wonder they walked away from her. My God, she looked a fright. Reflexively her hand patted her pockets for a comb to tame her unruly curls. The water hadn't helped, and anyway, these days her hair tended to have a mind of its own you.
A man appeared in the shop doorway wearing a polo shirt with the shop's logo emblazoned on it. "Go away, you're putting the customers off!"
She gaped at him. Putting them off? How dare he! There was an echo of a rumble, beneath the ground. Alex could feel the water far below her, feel it wanting to burst upwards and engulf the man and his stupid shirt.
"Get lost! Shoo!" He affected a two-day stubble that was so carefully cultivated. He obviously loved himself.
Alex, lifted her chin. The rumbling below her subsided. "Why don't you… take your stupid books and your stupid half-a-beard, and your stupid shirt with its stupid logo, and go and fuck yourself?"
The man bristled, but he didn't leave the doorway.
"It's a public footpath, isn't it?" she said, "You can't stop me. I've got as much right to be here as you have, prick!"
"Right, that does it. I'm calling the police!"
"Help yourself," she said, fussing with her hair in the windows reflection. "By the time they get here I'll be long gone and they'll think you're as big a prick as I do."
He made a big show of going inside and picking up the phone, glaring at her through the half-reflection of the window as he punched the numbers. Alex was guessing that with the other hand he was holding the phone closed — that type were all show.
She did look a state, though. There were black rings under her eyes from staying up until all hours, and her sweatshirt and skirt looked like they'd been trampled by elephants before she'd put them on — one of the disadvantages of getting completely soaked and then drying them by forcing all the water out.
She glanced back at the dickhead in the shop, stuck a finger up at him for good measure and walked on. Within yards she had cloaked herself in glamour. Let the police see if they could find her — they could try. She headed for the brighter lights of Oxford Street.
Meetings with my boss were very different, I reflected, than when I used to have a real job. When I reached the stairs down to the training room I could hear Garvin before I could see him. He was using one of the weapons on the rubber car tyre that we used for stamina exercises, hung in the corner from a chain in the ceiling. The raw smacks as he hit the tyre travelled down the corridor as a fast percussion. He was sweating it, pushing himself. When I opened the door I realised he was doing it in pitch blackness.
"Come in. Close the door." The percussion continued.
I stepped inside, closing the door with a soft thud, and finding myself in darkness as the noise continued. I stood there waiting for him to finish.
The lights flickered on leaving me blinking in the light. I realised that Garvin was behind me.
"Just because the sound continues does not mean I'm still over there. You should know that Dogstar."
He wandered back to the spinning tyre, swinging the long staff in curves and sweeps around and through the tyre without once touching it, this time in silence, letting his muscles cool slowly from the exertion.
"I asked you to come and see me," he said, circling slowly around the twirling tyre but still avoiding hitting it.
"Amber told me."
"She said she told you twenty minutes ago. Where were you?"
"I went to see if Alex was back."
There was a sharp double thud. In Garvin's hand the staff had separated into a shorter staff and a long handled blade. Most of the tyre dropped to the floor, bounced once and then rocked back and forth, leaving the top section jiggling around manically on the end of the chain.
"You cut the tyre in half," I said, stating the obvious.
"I can always chain up another tyre," he said, sweeping the blade in a circle, and finishing with a flourish that joined it once more into a staff, "but getting another Warder at short notice is much more difficult."
"Why do you need another Warder?"
"Because one of them is running around after his daughter?" he suggested.
"I… I needed to meet Katherine and I thought it best if it was done discreetly."
"Discreetly? So you send a black limo to get her? In the middle of a housing estate?"
"I don't know. I thought maybe…"
"No, the problem is, you didn't think. I asked you not to see her. I asked you not to tell her Alex was alive."
"I'm sorry, but I felt I had to."
"A bit late for that, isn't it? You appropriate the property of the courts for your own purposes, co-opt one of Mullbrook's staff into doing your dirty work, and do something that I expressly asked you not to do…"
"You only said it wasn't a good idea."
"And was it? Did she take it well?"
"Not really."
"Well I think we can assume I was right, then, can't we?"
"It's better that she knows."
"Let me say something, Niall, as someone with a great deal of experience in managing the courts and dealing with humanity. It is, in fact, almost exclusively better, if people do not know. Do I make myself clear this time?"
"I couldn't leave her like that."
"This is not about assuaging your guilty conscience. I have a job to do and you're supposed to be helping me — instead you're making it harder."
"She won't tell anyone."
"Of course she'll tell someone! She's bound to, sooner or later. There'll be someone close, someone she trusts. It's like pissing in a pond. You break the banks and then it leaks into the bigger pool, before long it's in the stream and then the river and before you know it the entire ocean is tainted with piss. It's what happens."
"I'll talk to Katherine and ask her to be discreet."
"I think you've done enough talking, don't you? I asked you to be discreet. Asking her to keep it quiet will only stimulate her interest and encourage her to ask more questions. No more, Niall. Is that understood?"
"I understand."
"You said that last time. If you're not cut out to be a Warder, with all the privileges and comforts that come with it, then other arrangements can be made. If you want to be a Warder then you need to start acting like one. I gave you a job. Have you done it?"
"Not yet."
Garvin sighed. "There are a group of them holed up in a squat in north London, an old factory. Amber will go with you."
"Amber?"
"Yes, Amber. Perhaps if you see how the job should be done, you'll get on with it. I've sent Fellstamp and Fionh elsewhere. If you won't do this, Dogstar, then I'll send someone who will. Amber's waiting for you downstairs. She won't wait long. Get your kit and get moving."
I said nothing, pressing my fist over my heart in acknowledgement and left, pulling the door shut behind me, then leaned against the wall next to the door, breathing slowly in and out. Garvin was usually the measure of control and diplomacy, but today I'd seen another side of him. If he'd sent Fellstamp and Fionh in search of some of the escapees then that was bad news. They would not treat them as carefully as I would. I needed to get on top of things if I was going to save any of these people, and keep my job.
I also needed to talk to Katherine, which meant going against what he'd just told me. If Alex turned up at her mother's then Katherine would need to know what the situation was, otherwise she might go complaining to the authorities, or draw further unwanted attention to Alex, when what we needed was a calm, careful, approach.
None of which were words I would normally associate with Katherine.
Alex always liked Oxford Street. All the top shops were there, all the ones with the clothes that her mother would never let her wear. Unsuitable clothes, matched with unwearable shoes. She loved it.
Of course, there were the designer shops, but even wrapped in glamour she didn't think she could get in and out of one of those without drawing unwanted attention. Those shops didn't have clothes on rails, and changing rooms you could just use. You had to have an attendant and someone to tell you how marvellous you looked. Having earned her freedom she was not so willing to risk losing it again.
Instead she wandered around the better teen shops, looking at the fashions and checking out what the other girls were wearing. Of course she could just shift her glamour and look however she wanted, but that wasn't the same as having the clothes for herself.
She went down a rail and picked out a top with a sparkly emblem, and a short denim skirt, a skimpy tee, some leggings, and took all of it to the changing room where a stern-faced shop manager gave her a token which showed how many items she as trying on. The woman was dressed in clothes from the store, but frankly she looked too old for them.
After a short wait in the queue, she slipped into the communal changing area. Inside, girls squeezed themselves into a variety of outfits, some with more success than others. There was a lot of chat, and a fair amount of swearing as girls found that they were no longer able to fit in a size six or whatever. One girl was fighting a losing battle with a bustier thing while her friend tried to stretch it around her. Alex smiled.
She shed the shapeless sweatshirt and jeans and wriggled into the short skirt, pulling the zip up hard when it stuck. She pulled the sparkly top over her head, stretching it over her budding curves and smoothed it down. Only then did she look up into the mirror.
The girl who looked back was a stranger. Alex almost looked around to see if she had caught the reflection from some other girl. Sure, she'd had a mirror in her room, and there were mirrors dotted around the courts, but this was full length widescreen. Alex blinked and her reflection blinked back.
She caught a smug look from the girl who'd been trying to squeeze into the bustier. Alex almost told her where she could get off, but then looked again at the girl in the mirror. The sparkly top was stretched tight across her bust — too tight. It bunched into lines and left a line of pale midriff where the over-tight skirt pinched in her waist, making her look like she had a roll of puppy fat.
Her face gave the lie to any weight gain. It was lean and angular. She brushed her cheek where the bones were outlined under the skin. Her unruly hair coiled around her fingers and she teased out the curl, wondering when this had happened to her. When did she become this bony angular waif?
She stepped sideways as one of the other girls edged in front of her for a better view of herself; giving her attitude, like Alex was hogging the mirror. Looking around the changing room, Alex was suddenly conscious that the other girls would see the strange girl, in clothes that were too small, in a bra that bulged in the wrong places.
Quickly, she stripped off the top, hearing the seams stretch and crackle as she pulled it over her head. She unzipped the skirt with relief and pulled on her jeans and shirt. There was no point in trying on the leggings and tee shirt — they were all too small. She tugged things back on hangers and headed out.
She passed the token back to the woman at the changing room entrance.
"Did you find anything you liked?" she asked.
"S'all too small," said Alex, handing back the clothes.
The woman took them from her and checked them before hanging them from a rail behind her.
She turned, assessing Alex and then checking the sizes on the clothes she'd just hung up. "These are eights and you're definitely going to need a ten," she said. "What size bra are you wearing?"
Alex told her, and the woman sighed. "It's very common with young women — you don't notice how your shape is changing. You're going to have to buy a new bra before you try anything else on," she said. "The one you're wearing is too small for you and nothing is going to fit right until you do. I'll ask one of the assistants to advise you, if you'd like?"
"No, really," said Alex, "I'm OK."
"Of course," she said. "You'll find lingerie in the far corner over there." She gestured towards the back corner of the store.
"Thanks," said Alex, drifting away.
Since she got back she'd been preoccupied, what with the birth of the baby and having lessons with Fionh. All the rules about what she could do and couldn't do — it was worse than Porton Down. Her appearance hadn't been an issue, though. Maybe it was the drugs she'd been given, but she didn't feel drugged, she just felt… different, as if she didn't quite fit in her own skin. She'd just thrown on the clothes she'd been given, only now she realised they were shapeless and baggy or just didn't fit.
She found herself in front of another full length mirror along one of the aisles. Her hair wound in dark curls around her face and her eyes looking hard and cold. She smoothed the sweatshirt down, trying to visualise the figure underneath. A girl with a dress walked around in front of her. She stood between Alex and the mirror and held the dress up against herself.
"Do you mind?" said Alex. "I was using that."
The girl glanced around at her, taking in the crumpled sweatshirt and the faded jeans. "Seriously?" she said. She turned and checked the dress again.
"Stuck up bitch," said Alex, but the girl had already moved away.
Alex stared at herself and realised that the girl had a point. She did look a bit of a state. The jeans hung from her hips and the formless top did nothing for her. Now that she was conscious of it, her bra was too tight in all the wrong places and she felt frumpy.
A couple of girls passed between her and the mirror, debating the merits of the skirt they had chosen for one or other of them. Alex had no one to debate with. Did anyone care how she looked? Did anyone even notice her? Standing in the middle of the shop, she felt the people moving around her. She felt each heartbeat swishing by, heard their chatter, was jostled and stepped around, but comprehensively ignored. She'd never felt so alone. Even at the worst of Porton Down, people knew you were there. They didn't just step around you.
It came to her that she could could stop it all. She could slow every heartbeat, cause the blood not to flow. She could make it thicken and slow and they would all die, all of them.
She twitched as she felt her hands wrap around the heavy blade, the handle slick with blood. She felt the weight of the blade in her hand as she lifted it, heard her exhalation as she swept the blade down, felt the shock travel up her arms as it bit into bone, biting into the severed head in front of her…
She shook herself, wiping her hands down her front, trying to push the memory that had risen, unbidden, back where it came from.
She shook her head, trying to clear it. "Stupid. Just stupid." Her hands were shaking. She interlaced her fingers to quiet the trembling.
"Are you all right?" A girl with a shopping bag slung over her shoulder appeared at her arm, face filled with concern. "You're very pale. Do you want to sit down?"
Alex shrugged her off. "I'm fine. Leave me alone."
"I was only asking," said the girl, but Alex was already moving away between the racks.
She had to pull herself together. It was no good being flaky when she was out on her own. It would only attract attention she didn't want or need. She needed to get a hold of herself. She was tougher than this. She had been through worse and survived hadn't she?
On impulse, she walked back down the racks. She checked the sizes as she collected a violet skimpy tee, a teal bolero cardigan and a blue and purple kilt that looked kinda funky. She added to this a handbag, a pair of silver high-heeled shoes and a bra with a bigger cup-size. Then she headed for the exit.
She didn't need to pay; she didn't have any money in any case. She was cloaked in glamour, no one would notice. No one would see. Even the CCTV wouldn't register her image. Unfortunately she'd forgotten about the security tags on the clothes and as soon as she passed the door the alarms went berserk.
"Shit!" she swore and ran.
She dodged around people walking slowly down the pavement, hearing the heavy thumping of the security guard's boots on her tail. She intensified her glamour and swerved into a doorway. People walked past ignoring her. A large white guy in a blue uniform stopped in front of the the doorway. Her heart beat in her chest.
Don't look around. Don't look around.
Another guy in uniform, a tall skinny black guy, stopped, failing to notice the girl with her arms full of clothes in the doorway, just behind his colleague.
"Where'd she go?" said the black guy.
"I had her, and then she vanished," wheezed the other one, bending forward and resting his hands on his knees. "I'm getting too old for this. Either that or they're running faster."
"Come on, old man," said the black guy, punching the white guy on the arm playfully. "Did you see what she looked like?"
"Nah, but we'll get her on the cameras." They walked back towards the store, leaving Alex in the doorway with her prizes.
"You stupid silly bitch," she said to herself. "What did you do that for?"
But she had her prizes.