Angel Dares (22 page)

‘Course not.’ I hugged my knees. ‘So what’s it like connecting with your soulfinder?’

‘You tell me.’

‘Can’t. Marcus won’t even try telepathy. There’s definitely something between us but I live in fear that I’m just projecting the rock-star glitter onto how I feel. But I’m working on him.’

‘It’s not like you to be cautious, Angel,’ observed Victor.

‘You noticed?’ I laughed self-deprecatingly. ‘I’m trying to wise up, believe it or not, Victor. Anyway, enough about me. How’s Margot taken it?’

Will gave me a beautiful smile. ‘Very well. She is one fine lady.’

‘And did I mention gorgeous?’ I teased. ‘Not that that matters, of course, William: it’s what’s inside that counts—or so I’m led to believe.’

Will was primed to gush about his new partner given half a chance. ‘It’s true. She has a lovely spirit—kind, thoughtful, but she’s no fool. She made me lay out the savant deal very carefully. I had to explain the small print before she would open her mind fully to me.’

‘Small print?’

‘The one-shot-at-a-soulfinder deal.’

‘Yeah, that sucks.’ I glanced at Victor, whose soulfinder was rumoured to be in Afghanistan behind bars. No wonder he was so grim most of the time. Misty told me he had a less scary side, but I’d not found it. ‘Can you text Summer for me and suggest we meet up at the Beatbox tent at five? I’d like to bring them up to speed as to what’s going on in my life.’

‘No talking about savant business in public, Angel, remember,’ warned Victor. ‘Here with Will we can be sure there’s no threat, but the situation on the festival site is volatile. You can be fine for a moment then find yourself in deep trouble the next.’

I picked at a loose thread on the hem of my tunic. ‘I was thinking of just telling them about my role in the Gifted gig tonight.’

Will patted my knee. ‘I meant to say, Angel: a huge well done! We mustn’t ignore the fact that you’ve just landed yourself one amazing break, all thanks to your own talent. I’m sorry it’s been complicated by this other business.’

I smiled archly. ‘But if it weren’t for this other business, I wouldn’t be here. I wouldn’t have met Marcus or rubbed shoulders with Gifted, so I think I’m the lucky one. And talking of other business, here she is.’

Margot was approaching with two men in suits, dark glasses and earpieces: her security team, without a doubt. I considered myself excess to requirements, as I did not add to Will and Victor’s professional image.

‘I’d better go.’

‘Summer, Misty and Alex will meet you by the exit,’ said Will, showing me Summer’s reply. They all must have got new Sims already. Only Mess-up Angel hadn’t been trusted with a new phone.

‘Toodlepip, William. Bye, Victor.’

‘Take care, Angel,’ said Victor. From his worried expression, I think he meant it.

It was a great idea to go the Beatbox tent. Caught up in my personal drama, I had almost forgotten we were at one of the country’s best music festivals and there was so much talent crammed into these fields, it was unreal. Though not headliners, both Joey and Fresh had their own gang of fans so the tent was packed. The arrival of Brian attracted some notice but this crowd was too cool to do the embarrassing ‘will you sign my’ thing; all eyes were on the battle on stage and Joey and Fresh were just up.

I sat squeezed between Summer and Misty on a bench at the front, Alex and Uriel flanking us. Fresh provided the beatbox backing while Joey did the rap—and they killed it. Totally awesome. We danced along in the front row, punching the air and shaking our stuff for all we were worth. OK, I danced along—my friends did a more restrained jig-along-in-time. Joey was amused however and directed some of his lines at me, which only encouraged me.

‘Woo-woo-woo!’ I yelled from on top of the bench when they’d finished, cycling my arm in the air. The applause was sustained. There was a real buzz about their performance, which must have done their careers no harm at all.

‘Let’s go backstage and congratulate them,’ I suggested, jumping to the ground.

Summer caught my hand. ‘You go—we don’t know them.’

‘But I’ll introduce you. Come on!’

Dragging my friends along, I made my way to the back of the tent. Joey and Fresh were already outside chatting to fans. Inside the venue, the next act was just up. Poor new guys: it always sucks to follow the best, so depressing as the benches thin out.

‘Joey, Fresh—you were amazing!’ I barrelled through the fans and gave both a whopping big hug.

‘Liked your moves, Angel: some serious shaking of that little ass of yours. If this playing with Gifted doesn’t work out for you, wanna be our backing dancer?’ Joey’s eyes twinkled.

‘I’ll give it serious thought,’ I teased. ‘Particularly as you called my ass little. Can I introduce you to my friends—Misty, Summer, Alex and Uriel?’ I stood back to let my guys say their hellos.

‘Great show, guys,’ Brian said as he and Jennifer arrived.

‘Did you get some good shots?’ Fresh asked hopefully.

Jennifer nodded and patted her camera. ‘Yes, all in there. Give me your email and I’ll send you some.’

‘And did you get Angel here displaying her best moves?’

Jennifer smiled. ‘Of course. It was hard to ignore her.’

Maybe I shouldn’t have insisted on being in the front row. I’d meant it as support but perhaps it had looked just like showing off.

‘Are you going to do that tonight for our set?’ asked Brian.

‘Absolutely not,’ I promised. ‘I’ll be on my best behaviour.’

‘Shame.’ He grinned at my puzzled expression then winked at Joey and Fresh. ‘I don’t think she gets it.’

‘Angel, it’s a guy thing,’ said Joey.

‘Stop teasing her, Brian,’ said Jennifer. ‘Can’t you see she’s embarrassed?’

‘That’s me: always embarrassed
after
the event,’ I muttered. ‘One day I’ll learn to anticipate.’

‘Actually, Angel, can you spare me a moment?’ asked Jennifer. ‘I’d like to introduce you to some press friends of mine who are interested in covering the story about you taking to the stage with Gifted tonight.’

‘Oh, OK. Sure. See you guys later?’

‘We’ll be there. Margot has sorted backstage passes for us,’ said Summer.

‘Great. I’m going to be in the VIP dressing room, apparently.’ I grabbed Misty and spun her in a circle. ‘Drop by and admire.’

‘We will do,’ promised Alex.

I squeezed Misty’s hand. ‘And stop me wearing a hole in the carpet as I pace with nerves, won’t you?’

‘Of course we will.’ Misty and Summer exchanged a look: they both knew what I was like. They were my personal fire blankets, used to smothering my mini-meltdowns. ‘Will Marcus be there? We’ve not met him yet.’

Releasing Misty, I dug my hands in my pockets and shrugged. ‘He’s performing just before us, so maybe not.’

‘Then we’ll see him afterwards,’ suggested Summer. Clearly my friends had decided to give me a helping hand with my non-starter of a soulfinder relationship—if that’s what it was.

Jennifer gave Summer an apologetic smile. ‘Unfortunately that won’t be possible. Gifted and Black Belt are rolling out immediately after the gig. They’ve got a couple more concert dates in the south-east and then they’re appearing at the O2 next weekend and we’ve got to set up. We’ve spent longer here than we normally do at any venue. Margot wanted us to catch our breath in the middle of a long tour.’

I was speechless. Marcus had made no mention of this, though now I thought about it I remembered seeing the posters for the concert on the Underground. I just hadn’t connected the dates.

Summer covered for me. ‘Oh, I see. Well, maybe it’ll be possible to meet him in between his session and Angel’s?’

‘Maybe.’ Jennifer gave a polite smile that meant she really didn’t think it would work out that way. I got the impression she wasn’t that keen on my friends. Perhaps she thought I was trying to move in the whole tribe. Gifted staff were serious about preserving the privacy of band members. ‘I’ll be back soon, Brian. Are you coming, Angel?’

‘Sure. Yes.’

Misty grabbed my shoulders before I left and whispered in my ear: ‘It’ll all work out—you’ll see.’

‘Thanks.’ My voice sounded hoarse, my body felt hollow. I hadn’t been this stunned since I was thrown from a pony in my first (and last) riding lesson.

Jennifer seemed not to have noticed she had delivered devastating news. She led me away from the congratulate-Joey-and-Fresh party. ‘I said we’d try to meet the press people after the Beatbox event. Not really my kind of music, but they’re good, aren’t they?’

‘Sorry, what?’ I stumbled after her, arms crossed on my chest.

‘Joey and Fresh—good at what they do.’

‘Yes. They’re great.’

‘And they do it all with their own talent, don’t they?’

‘Yes, of course—what other way is there to do it?’

‘Down here, Angel.’ She guided me to a tent that promised Wi-Fi connections and coffee. It was busy with people sitting at the camping tables, headphones on, checking their emails. Jennifer walked straight through and out the other side.

‘I thought we were meeting the press in there?’ I asked, catching her up.

‘No, no, too many people—too much background noise.’ Her manner had changed. Around Brian she was all sweetness and concern; now she was brisk and business-like. Maybe meeting the journalists did that to her? Still, my instinct was telling me that something odd was going on.

‘Who did you say we were meeting?’

Suddenly, Will’s voice came into my head.
Angel, threat level around you has shot up. What are you doing?

The light meter on Jennifer’s camera beeped.

‘Using telepathy, are you? We can’t have that.’

Will!
I’d only managed to shout his name when I glimpsed Eli Davis step out of the dark alleyway between tents behind me.

How do you stop someone using telepathy? Other than a savant gift for doing so, I hadn’t thought it possible. Davis and his anti-savant brigade must have given the subject much thought, probably experimented at length because their moves felt practised.

Will, help! They’ve got me!

While Davis tied my hands, Jennifer, the double-crossing bitch, fixed earphones blasting a high-pitched whistle right into my brain. I tried to shout my distress call against it, tried to give Will my location, but it was overwhelming, like standing next to a road drill and trying to talk on your phone. All I could broadcast was an echo of the shrill tone.

I couldn’t bear it. Too much. My head felt close to explosion, tears pouring down my cheeks.

Unable to hear what was said to me, I only felt the pokes and the slaps, the pull of duct tape on bare skin. Davis put his arm around me, half-holding me up, half-forcing me along. If anyone had been close enough to see us, they would have seen a couple assisting a girl who looked the worse for drink. They propelled me along until we reached a car. Two more people joined us but my vision was too blurred to see who they were. I was lifted up and placed in the boot, despite my kicks to wriggle free. A blanket smelling of oil covered me and the top clunked down. The car began to move, bumping over ruts, and then gathering speed.

Take the headphones off, please!
I didn’t know if I was screaming this telepathically or out loud. I kicked and thumped the compartment, desperate to escape the noise. I thrashed my head, trying to dislodge the earphones but they had been duct taped in place.
No, it’s hurting me! Too much. Too much.

I curled up into a foetal ball, eyes screwed shut, nails digging into palms. I screamed every savant name I could think of, hoping one cry would get through. The journey seemed to go on and on. I began to think it would never end—that I’d be locked in this torture chamber for ever.

I came to my senses when the sound finally stopped I don’t know how much later. My head was at an odd angle on the ground, hair plastered on my cheeks. I appeared to be lying on a cold floor made of metal. It was completely dark. I remembered being lifted out of the car and dropped here but I had been battling to keep my wits against the whistle. The silence was deafening; I could still hear the residual roar of the noise, like the aftermath of standing by the speakers in a heavy-metal concert. I wondered briefly if my hearing had been permanently damaged.

Not important. Focus, girl: escape. First thing, make sure no one can put that sound in your head again.

My hands were still bound behind me but my legs were free. I wriggled to sitting position then dropped my head between my knees and caught the headphones between them. I swore viciously as I lost some strands of hair tugging my head free. I hadn’t completely dislodged the headphones but at least they were now hanging around my neck, no longer covering my ears. The residual tape pulled and twisted on the damp skin of my cheeks until it finally dropped free.

Will? Anyone?
I sent out a telepathic distress message.

No answer.

If I was going to try that again, I had to play my best game. Give my telepathic powers in my bruised brain a little time to recover. And not panic.

Oh crap: I was panicking …