Shoving the phone back into her pocket, Allie shivered as the bitter February wind cut through her and moved closer to the tall pine tree that sheltered her.
She’d been waiting nearly twenty minutes. If it took much longer …
Her throat worked as she swallowed hard.
The gate in front of her was tall and imposing, topped with sharp spikes of black metal. As far as she knew, this was the only way in and out of Cimmeria Academy’s grounds. Nearly a mile from the school building at the end of a long drive, it was opened and closed by remote control. Only the headmistress and a cadre of carefully chosen security guards were allowed to operate it.
Cars were relatively rare at Cimmeria Academy. Most teachers and staff lived on site. Still, delivery trucks and post vans came and went each day, as did the security guards who worked for Raj Patel. She’d been observing the rare traffic for a few weeks and she knew a delivery van arrived just before four o’clock most days. It was nearly four now. If she was lucky, the van would enter through those gates before she was discovered.
Her hiding place was very close to where she’d been when Jo was killed. The memory of that night, eight weeks ago, tortured her. If she closed her eyes, she could see it all – the blanket of white snow, the blue moonlight, the fragile body thrown like a rag doll on to the road … The cloud of blood blooming around her like the petals of a deadly flower.
She opened her eyes.
Tonight there was only an empty dirt road.
She took a shaky breath.
Am I really going to do this?
She’d been asking herself that question ever since she’d reached the gate. Part of her wanted to cry. Part of her wanted to run back to her room. But she did neither. Instead, she steeled herself.
She had to get out of here. If she wanted answers about what was really going on, she needed to get away from this school and find them.
An icy breeze shook the trees, showering freezing raindrops down on her. Shivering, she wrapped her scarf tighter around her neck. The roar of branches swaying above her disguised the noise of the car engine for a long moment. By the time she’d clocked it, headlights were visible in the distance.
Dropping into a crouch well out of the path of the high beams, she waited, poised like the athlete she’d been before the attack. The stance hurt every part of her damaged body – her knee most of all – but she ignored the pain. Now wasn’t the time to listen to her body. Now was the time to run.
Breathless, she watched through the bars of the fence, invisible in the shadows in her dark coat and jeans. She expected a white van, but saw instead a dark, low-slung car.
Allie’s breath caught in her throat. Several of the security guards drove cars like that. It had to be one of them.
The sleek car approached the gate slowly and rolled to a stop.
In an instant Allie decided: she would do it anyway. Whoever was in that car it didn’t matter. She was going to run.
She readied herself. This was her chance. Maybe her only chance.
But nothing happened. The throbbing in her injured knee became more acute. Staying still was excruciating. She couldn’t do it for long.
Closing her eyes, she willed the gate to open but it didn’t move. Something must be wrong.
Maybe they know. Maybe it’s a trap and Raj has already sent the guards to grab me. Maybe they’re coming for me right now.
Her mouth went dry. It was hard to breathe.
Then the big metal gate shuddered and, with a metallic creak, began to roll open.
Her lips moving silently, Allie counted eight breaths in and out before it clanged to a stop, fully open. The road beyond curved into the dark woods. In the deepening twilight it seemed to disappear just beyond the gates – as if there was no world out there any more.
Pulling the phone from her pocket, she dropped it on to the ground. She hated to do it, but its signal could be traced – it was no use to her now. She had to trust that Mark would do as they’d agreed.
All she needed was for the car to drive far enough into the school grounds to allow her to get out without being noticed by the driver.
But an achingly long moment passed and the car didn’t move. Its engine idled like a cat purring as it toyed with its prey. From where Allie crouched, she couldn’t see the driver.
What the hell is the problem? Frustration made her want to scream. Will you just drive?
Just as she was beginning to fear she’d been spotted, the black Audi’s tyres crunched on the gravel drive. Slowly, it began to move towards the school building.
Almost immediately the gates began to close again but she didn’t dare move. The car was still too close – the driver might see her in his mirror.
With all her muscles tense and burning she waited, eyes fixed on the gates as she willed the car to pass out of view. But it moved with slow deliberation. Almost as if the driver was looking for someone.
The thought made her queasy; she took a deep calming breath to steady her nerves.
Don’t lose it now, Allie, she told herself. Focus. If he knew I was here he’d get out of the car.
Watching the gate’s slow progress, she counted three breaths. Four.
Five.
It was nearly shut now. The car was still within view but she had no choice – if she didn’t go now she might never get out.
And that was not an option.
Springing from her hiding place she tore through the trees, legs pumping, knee aching, breath burning her lungs. The gap between the gate and the fence looked tiny. Too tiny. Had she miscalculated? Was it too late?
Then she was there, hands clutching the cold bars as if she could somehow slow their progress. But the gate was automatic – unstoppable. Its movement was steady. Uncaring.
Allie didn’t hesitate – shooting through the tight gap as the bars yanked at her jacket like bony fingers, shoving her shoulder so hard her breath hissed between her teeth at the pain.
With a strangled cry, she ripped herself loose, tumbling to the ground on the other side just as the gates clanged shut.
She was free.
Allie hadn’t started out that day planning to run away. She’d started out intending not to go to class.
She’d been doing that a lot lately.
Studying just didn’t seem pertinent to her life any more. So why bother?
After being dragged, sullen and unrepentant, to class on several occasions, she’d begun using hiding places to avoid that unpleasant possibility. The rambling Victorian school building provided numerous nooks and crannies for this purpose – she was especially fond of unused rooms and servants’ stairwells where no one ever thought to look. The crypt, the chapel … really, her hiding options were limitless.
Today, after enduring a few morning classes, she’d climbed out of her bedroom window, tiptoed along the narrow stone ledge to a spot where the roof dipped low and made her way up to the rooftop where Jo had once danced madly with a bottle of vodka, and where Allie and Carter had saved her life.
There she’d sat for hours in the cold, alone with her memories, watching the students and staff on the ground below. It was amazing how they never looked up. The roof bristled with chimneys and ornate, wrought-iron decoration, so it was easy for her to observe without being noticed; a living gargoyle.
And so the day slipped away from her, as so many others had lately, until she heard familiar voices, surprisingly close. At first she tensed, wondering if she’d been discovered. It took her a moment to realise the sound was rising from her own bedroom, through the open window just below her rooftop perch.
Holding on to a waterspout elaborately designed in the shape of a dragon, Allie leaned over the edge of the roof to listen.
‘You haven’t found her then?’ Isabelle’s voice was taut.
‘No.’ Raj spoke so quietly Allie had to strain to make out his words. ‘My team is searching the grounds now.’
They wouldn’t find her. They never did. The thought gave her dull satisfaction. Maybe she was a complete failure at saving lives but she could outwit security guards who were supposed to be the best in the world.
Then Isabelle spoke again – her voice sounded closer now. Allie realised she must be standing by the window, looking out at the same view.
‘How is she … do you think?’ the headmistress asked hesitantly. ‘Has Rachel said anything?’
A sigh.
‘Better?’ Raj said. ‘Worse? Hard to tell. The same, maybe. Rachel’s worried about her. Is she still seeing Dr Cartwright?’
Allie frowned; Dr Cartwright was the shrink Isabelle brought in after everything happened.
‘Not any more,’ Isabelle replied. ‘She did at first, but he said he couldn’t get much out of her. He described her as “unresponsive”.’
They shouldn’t talk about that, Allie thought reproachfully. That stuff is supposed to be private.
She thought about the nightmares and the horrible thoughts – the very few things she’d shared with Dr Cartwright before shutting him out.
She didn’t want them to know about that.
‘How do you just go back to class after you’ve seen your friend die?’ she’d asked in one of the few sessions she’d actually attended. ‘How do you care about French verbs? Or the Spanish Armada?’
‘You just do,’ the psychologist had said. ‘You put one foot in front of the other every day. and you try. You keep trying.’
‘Bollocks,’ Allie had replied with venom in her voice.
He couldn’t know what it was like to be afraid of falling asleep because of the awful dreams. There was no way he knew what that felt like.
No one knew that.
Raj barked a humourless laugh that said he thought Allie was unresponsive, too.
‘He felt she wasn’t accepting Jo’s death – she’s looking for someone to blame,’ Isabelle said. Allie leaned further forward, eager for this insider information. ‘He said blame is a kind of crutch; it allows the anger phase of grief to extend indefinitely. Until she gets through it she will never accept what happened and learn to deal with it.’
Whatever, Allie thought with hot impatience. I’m angry for a reason. Because of you.
Still, underneath her anger she knew there was some truth in what Isabelle said and it nagged at her.
Below her, Isabelle was still talking. ‘But then Allie decided she didn’t like him. He’s meant to meet with her this afternoon and’ – Allie could almost visualise Isabelle’s weary shrug – ‘right on schedule she’s AWOL.’
Raj’s voice grew louder – even from the rooftop Allie could hear his anger. ‘This can’t go on, Izzy. You have to take action. My entire team is out looking for her right now when they should be working to keep the school safe. We still don’t know what Nathaniel is planning. He could hit us at any moment. She is wasting our time. We can’t keep doing this. Allie is behaving like a—’
‘Like she used to behave,’ Isabelle said, interrupting him. ‘This is exactly how she was after her brother disappeared. She’s just angry and I can’t really blame her. I’m angry, too. But I’m not sixteen so I have ways to channel it. She doesn’t.’
The sound of someone knocking interrupted them.
Who could that be?
Straining to hear, Allie leaned over further, until her head and shoulders were hanging right over the edge of the roof. But Raj and Isabelle had clearly gone to answer the door. She could hear the murmur of voices but they were too far away for her to make out their words.
After a moment, the door closed with a decisive bang. Then … silence.
They were gone.
Disappointed, Allie pulled herself back into a safer position on the roof; as she did, her eyes swept downward.
Two of Raj’s security guards stood on the ground below. They were staring right at her.
Allie’s heart leapt to her throat.
Oh bollocks.
Panicked, she scrambled out of view, her shoes skidding on the wet roof tiles. When she thought she was hidden, she leaned forward just far enough to peek down. Below her, the guards gestured for someone she couldn’t see to join them. After a second, Raj walked out to stand beside them. They pointed to Allie’s spot on the roof. Crossing his arms, he locked his unforgiving gaze on hers.
Allie swallowed hard.
Time to find a new hiding place, she thought.
Leaping to her feet, she ran across the rooftop to the place where the roof dipped down, sliding down the slope on her behind. Her short pleated skirt, not made for such activity, bunched up beneath her and water from the wet rooftop soaked through her dark tights. Holding on to the gutter with her fingertips, she slid along the stone ledge to her open window and vaulted through it on to her desk.
Once safely inside, she straightened triumphantly, only to find Isabelle standing in front of her with her arms crossed.
The headmistress didn’t wait for her to make excuses.
‘This is too much.’ Her tone was angry but Allie could hear the sadness in it. ‘You can’t keep doing this, Allie.’
Some part of Allie felt guilty for hurting her. But she easily suppressed that voice. Instead, she gave a disdainful shrug. ‘Fine. Whatever. Totes reformed. Never do it again, etc.’
Isabelle drew in a sharp breath. Her wounded expression threatened to make Allie feel something so she didn’t linger, heading straight for the door.
Isabelle seemed to gather herself. ‘I am not your enemy, Allie.’
‘Aren’t you?’ Standing by the door, Allie studied her as if she was a specimen on a tray.
‘Allie …’ Isabelle reached for her arm then, rethinking it, let her hand drop to her side. ‘I’m worried about you. And I want to help. But I can’t help you if you won’t let me.’
There was a time when Allie would have gone to Isabelle for help and advice – when they were close. When she trusted her.
Those days were over.
She fixed the headmistress with an uncaring look. ‘The thing is, Isabelle, your help gets people killed. So … no thanks.’
A direct hit. As Isabelle’s face crumpled, Allie ran out of the door.
Fighting the urge to cry, she limped down the grand staircase. Her knee ached, and the sound of her uneven footsteps (thump-THUMP thump-THUMP) echoed in the quiet like a cruel laugh.
With her head down, she took no notice of the polished oak panelling covering Cimmeria Academy’s walls. Or the grand oil paintings – some of which stood twice her height and held the images of long-dead men and women draped in gleaming silk and jewels. She was oblivious to the chandeliers made of hundreds of pieces of faceted crystal sparkling in the faint afternoon light, the heavy candle-holders that stood five feet tall, and the tapestries of wan medieval ladies and horses pursuing unworried foxes.
She saw none of it as, ducking into the great hall, she shoved the door to behind her. The vast ballroom was empty, illuminated only by weak afternoon light filtered through enormous windows at one end of the long room. Allie’s footsteps echoed hollowly as she paced the floor, her mind teeming with angry thoughts that pestered her like demons.
Thirty-three steps one way and pivot. Thirty-three steps back. And again.
Why should I be sorry? she fumed. Isabelle’s responsible for everything that’s happened. Jo trusted her. And now Jo’s dead.
Spinning on her heel she paced the other way.
As it always did, her mind flashed back to snow-covered woods, the flutter of a magpie’s wings, a small figure hurtling through the snow …
It was like a scab she couldn’t leave alone although it hurt to touch. She kept worrying at the edges of it so the pain never lessened.
Maybe she didn’t want the pain to lessen.
Jo is gone. Everyone failed her. And now Isabelle wants me to get back to ‘normal’? Screw her.
Allie pivoted and paced.
She’d never trust Isabelle again. It had all happened because of her and the fight she had with her brother that Allie didn’t even understand. They’d all been caught up in it, and Jo paid the price.
She didn’t trust Raj either. He was in charge of security for the school. He was supposed to be such an expert. But he’d gone off and left them alone, even after Allie begged him not to go. Begged him. So he wasn’t around when someone inside the school – someone Allie knew and trusted – opened the gate so Gabe could kill Jo.
She pivoted again in a tight, painful spin, rage giving her strength.
In the eight weeks that had passed since the murder, Raj and Isabelle hadn’t been able to find out who opened the gates that night. Who had been helping Nathaniel all along. A teacher, a Night School instructor, a student – somebody she passed in the hallway every day wanted her to die.
And they’d done nothing about it.
They all let me down. They all betrayed us. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen again.
Suddenly, she stopped pacing. She knew what she had to do.
Yanking the heavy door open, she headed straight for Isabelle’s office, running to get there before she lost her nerve. She was going to tell the headmistress she didn’t want to go to school here any more. She couldn’t go on like this. She’d go anywhere in the world as long as it was far away from here. Out in the real world she could find out what was really going on. She’d talk to her grandmother and together they’d find Jo’s killers. And they’d punish them.
Tucked away under the main staircase, which soared upward from the central hall in a theatrical swoop of ornate polished oak, Isabelle’s door was hidden so cleverly in the intricately carved panelling that when Allie first came to Cimmeria she’d had trouble seeing it. She didn’t have that problem any more.
Her jaw clenched, she shoved the door open without knocking. ‘Isabelle, you have to—’
The office was empty.
The headmistress had obviously left in a hurry – the black cashmere cardigan she’d been wearing earlier was draped carelessly across the back of a chair. Steam still rose from a cup of Earl Grey tea, which sat in the middle of the leather blotter on top of her desk next to her glasses …
And her mobile phone.
Her mouth slightly open, Allie stared at it. Her brain couldn’t register what she was seeing.
All electronic devices were banned at Cimmeria. Of all The Rules, this was the most strictly enforced. No computers, no televisions, and absolutely no phones.
If students wanted to phone someone they needed permission from the headmistress. They were only allowed to call their parents, and even then only if they had a good reason. But here was a phone, right within her reach.
As she’d stared at it, Allie’s mind had whirred through a checklist of things that would happen. Isabelle would never forgive her. She’d be expelled. She’d lose her friends. But she might also find out what was really going on. And that could force Isabelle and Raj to finally do something.
So she picked up the phone, stuck it in her pocket and walked out of the door.
Outside Cimmeria’s gates, the forest was wilder, blocking the weak rays of late afternoon light. Here, it was already night and Allie looked uneasily over her shoulder as she hurried through the gloom.
With every step she assured herself she was doing the right thing. Nathaniel was out there somewhere and he was looking for her but Allie didn’t care any more. She was so exhausted, so angry, so broken … staying wasn’t an option. She had to go.
But she’d never felt more exposed. She was completely alone now. And Jo’s killers could be anywhere.
It was unnervingly quiet, the only sound the crunching of dried twigs under her feet. The sun was setting and the cold was growing intense – the wind cut through the fabric of her coat, chilling the sweat on her skin. In her pockets her hands balled into icy fists.
At least I know where I’m going, she thought.
She’d made so many trips to hospitals recently she’d come to know the local roads pretty well, and as she walked she calmed herself by thinking through the route in her head – visualising a map. By her own calculation she wasn’t far from the main road. Once there, all she had to do was turn right and then follow the signs. There were fewer trees around the main road, and more light. It wouldn’t be as spooky.
All she had to do was get through these woods and she’d be safe. It was simple.
And it all went perfectly. In fact, she’d almost reached the crossroads when a sound, as faint as an intake of breath, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.
Stifling a gasp, she darted right, ducking behind the thick trunk of a tall pine. Crouching low, her hands pressed against the rough bark, she peered into the gloom.
Whatever that was, she didn’t think it had been made by the trees.
From her hiding spot, she could see no one. But the woods were dark and filled with shadows that shivered and danced with the breeze. Each one could be a person. Each one could be a killer.
She was beginning to find it hard to breathe.
Someone could be standing right behind me and I’d never see him. Gabe could be standing a few feet away watching me right now. The thought made her queasy with fear and she pounded a fist against her forehead. Why did I do this? I’m such an idiot. I’ve walked right up to him …
Clinging to the tree trunk, she fought for calm. If someone really was out there, she needed to think.
For a long moment she froze, listening; poised to run at the slightest sound. But there was only silence and wind and trees swaying above her.
After a while, Allie reasoned with herself. She could see nothing and hear nothing. The only hint she had that anyone was really out there came from her battered instincts. She tried to force herself to remember her training. What would Raj say if he were here?
Trust your instincts but don’t be a slave to them, she thought. He’d say don’t react to fear – react to evidence.
She could almost hear her instructor’s calming voice in her head. ‘And what does the evidence tell you now, Allie?’
I can’t see anyone, or hear anyone. I’ve followed procedure and found no true threat.
‘The evidence tells me there’s no one there,’ she whispered, trying to believe it.
Either way – whether someone was hiding in the woods nearby or not – she had two options: wait and see if they appeared, or keep moving and hope they didn’t.
She chose the second.
Grimacing from the pain, she limped as she ran through the forest towards the road. Her woollen hat slid to one side and she yanked it off, gripping it tightly until she’d made it into the middle of the crossroads. Only then did she stop and look back.
She saw nothing but empty woods.
Panting hard, she bent double, resting her hands on her knees. Her lungs ached from the exertion and the cold.
And there was still a long way to go. They could come after her at any moment – she had to keep moving.
She turned in the direction the map in her head directed her. The one-lane road was bordered by tall hedgerows, bare and bristling at this time of year. Beyond them, muddy pastures and fields were quickly disappearing in the fading light.
But the road was smooth and, if she was right, the town was a couple of miles down this road. She pulled her hat back on.
All I have to do is keep moving and not have a nervous breakdown on the way.
To pass the time, she went over her escape in her mind.
It had been so easy, in the end. Almost as if they’d wanted her to go.
After grabbing Isabelle’s phone from her desk, she’d hurtled up the stairs. In her pocket, the small device had seemed as heavy as a block of concrete; as hot as fire. She was certain people would somehow see it through the thick blue fabric of her skirt.
On the landing, she’d shoved through the crowds of students chatting and laughing to reach a narrower staircase to the girls’ dorm. She’d kept her eyes on the floor in case her guilty expression should betray her.
‘Psycho,’ somebody said behind her, low and mocking. The cut-glass accent was unpleasantly familiar.
Allie didn’t look up. She didn’t need to – she’d know Katie Gilmore’s voice anywhere.
‘Get out of her way or you die next,’ somebody else said and they all laughed.
Fighting the urge to punch Katie in the face, Allie kept her eyes on the floor, counting each step under her breath. The numbers soothed her as they grew.
… fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-n …
‘Allie.’
She jerked to a halt, eyes fixed on the pair of soft, cream-coloured sheepskin boots in her path.
Slowly, she raised her gaze.
Jules, the girls’ prefect, stood in front of her, razor-straight white-blonde hair just brushing the tops of her shoulders, arms crossed disapprovingly. ‘Isabelle sent me to look for you.’
Allie’s heart skipped a beat. Unconsciously her hand drifted to her skirt pocket, where it clutched the stolen phone.
How had she already found out?
Somehow though, despite the adrenaline racing through her veins, her voice was steady. ‘What does she want?’
Jules gave her a strange look, as if she hadn’t expected that question. ‘I don’t know. She just said she was looking for you, and if I saw you to send you to her office.’
Relief washed over Allie like cool water. Isabelle doesn’t know about the phone. Yet.
The realisation made her bolder. ‘Right. Well, you’ve delivered your message, Jules, so your job is done.’ She took a step towards the prefect. ‘Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you or something? Shouldn’t you be with him?’
Jules didn’t flinch but a red flush stained her neck, creeping to her face.
Ever since the winter ball, Jules and Allie’s ex-boyfriend, Carter, had been an item – the Cimmeria power couple. Allie had got used to seeing them walking down the hall with Carter’s arm draped loosely across her shoulders; his dark hair juxtaposed strikingly against her blonde head. Like chess pieces – the black king with the white queen.
It. . .
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