Stealing Phoenix (5 page)

I’d wound down to an unimpressive close when the Seer held up his finger. ‘You saw the boy I told you to steal from?’

I’d been given a photograph of the target the day before, a copy of his passport mugshot. ‘Yes, from a distance. He was easy to spot. I saw him … um …’ think of a plausible place, ‘going into a lecture room with the others. He’s tall.’

‘And you think you can do the job tomorrow—get his valuables as I asked?’

No, because his stuff was a pile of melted circuit boards. ‘I’m sure.’

Really?
The Seer had switched to using telepathy. I hated the feeling of him crawling around inside my brain.

Yes, I’m certain.
I replied in the same way, trying to keep my thoughts fixed on the single thought ‘daddy’.

He smiled again and beckoned me closer. I took that as an invitation to sully the rug with my feet. Pointing at a spot immediately in front of him, he waited. What now? I glanced up at Dragon. He was making ‘get down’ gestures. My knees folded and I sank to the floor at the Seer’s feet. A heavily ringed hand patted my head.

‘You look very much like Sadie did at your age. I’ll have to find you a partner in the Community soon—someone worthy of being tied to my bloodline.’

Ice ran down my spine. I did not want to hear him reminiscing about my mother—or his plans for my future.

‘I wondered when you would realize your relationship to me. Your mother filled your head with a lot of lies and it’s taken you a long while to come to your senses. I think it’s about time you joined Unicorn and Dragon as part of my dynasty.’ He paused, clearly expecting me to fill the gap with profuse thanks when I really wanted to run a mile in the opposite direction.

‘I … um … don’t know what to say.’ That was true at least.

He cupped my chin, squeezing a touch too hard. ‘Get the American boy’s stuff, Phoenix. I need it. Then we’ll see about your future.’

I still had one? ‘I will, I promise.’

He let go and I mistook that as my signal to rise. ‘Wait. Your punishment.’

I sank back on my knees. The room fell silent; the women not daring to move on the sofas, no ice clinking in cocktail glasses.

A little worm crept into my brain and began sliming its message across my mind.

‘You will not eat or drink until you’ve done this. You won’t be able to.’
He spoke the words as he imprinted them on my mind telepathically.

Dragon let out his breath, obviously fearing something far worse. The women relaxed; one took a nibble of the olives on the glass-topped coffee table.

The Seer released me. ‘Do you understand, Phoenix?’

I nodded, hand pressed to my throat. I could already feel the revulsion to the thought of taking any refreshment planted by his power over my mind.

‘Then you’d better make an early start. You wouldn’t want to miss breakfast, now, would you?’ He chuckled, the great rolls of his belly heaving up and down like a little island undergoing an earthquake. ‘Run along, my petal.’ He glanced at the blank screen behind me and the television blared into life.

I got up and hurried from the room, leaving the Seer surrounded by his cronies. It didn’t take a genius to work out that those not already related by blood were jockeying for position to gain the chance of being the partner he would choose for me, yet another rival for Unicorn and Dragon to worry about. My two ‘brothers’ would be no friends to this scheme.

Tony hovered in the shadows of the landing, braving the fifth floor when he should have been in the basement. ‘Everything OK, Phee?’

I nodded, though I should have shaken my head if I was being truthful. I didn’t really have that evil man’s DNA, did I?

‘You not tell them about me?’ So that was why he was here.

‘Unicorn knows, but he didn’t make a fuss about it. I said nothing to the Seer because it didn’t come up.’

Tony scratched his chin then gave a satisfied nod. ‘All right. It’s all sorted with Sean too, he won’t say what went down at the site. You just make sure you come back with lots of stuff tomorrow, deal?’

‘Yeah, deal.’

He gave me a brief grin. ‘For once, the little guys win a round, hey?’

I wouldn’t call it that but he could have his illusory victory. ‘Yeah.’

‘Goodnight.’ He waved farewell as he shuffled off to the stairs.

I couldn’t bring myself to reply: there was nothing good about this night. I was going to be hungry and thirsty but unable to do anything about it, but the sickening revelation about my father was the thing that was really going to rob me of sleep. If I had had a star to wish on just then, I would have asked never to have been born.

I was about to retreat into my flat when Unicorn appeared out of nowhere. He pulled me up short and pushed me against the wall, hand on my neck. ‘What did Tony mean?’

‘That I … I didn’t get punished much—that I was given a second chance,’ I said quickly, too terrified to struggle against his grip. This was turning into the second worst day of my life—the first place going to the day my mum died.

Unicorn leaned in to me, tightening his grip. ‘And the Seer still wants you to go after that boy?’

‘Yes.’ I closed my eyes against the pain. Was there an inch on me that wasn’t going to end up hurting tonight?

‘Why?’

How was I expected to know? But then Unicorn wasn’t really talking to me, the question hanging in the air between us. He released his hold on my neck and stepped back.

‘Tony let you in.’

I’d already told him that. ‘Yes.’

‘You care about Tony?’

Loaded question. I answered with a shrug.

‘I know you do. If you want Tony to be kept out of this, you bring me what you steal from the boy first, OK?
Before
you take it to the Seer.’

That was not in the rules. We were supposed to hand everything over in public at the gathering, not make private exchanges behind the Seer’s back.

My expression must have told him I was not happy with this suggestion. He put his hand back on my throat, this time stroking the bruise. ‘Does Tony mean so little to you? I thought he was your friend.’ He said the word as if it were a synonym for ‘cockroach’.

‘OK, I’ll find you first. Just don’t do anything to Tony, please?’

He lifted his hand away and smiled. ‘As if I would.’

Infiltrating the Queen Mary College campus was much easier than I anticipated. I was the right age for a student; had made an effort to look as though I was meant to be there, equipping myself with a couple of brochures from the foyer, so no one even challenged me as I pushed through the front doors.

‘Can I help you?’ the woman on the conference reception asked as I walked up to her. I hope she didn’t notice the shadows under my eyes or my unease as I mustered a smile for her benefit. She had a pile of folders and plastic badges arranged alphabetically in front of her. I let my eye drift across the selection, settling on ‘Ann Peters’. I glanced quickly over my shoulder to check no one else was behind me who might give me away.

‘Hi, I’m Ann Peters.’

She gave me a warm smile in return and handed me the badge and conference material without another word. Then again, who in their right mind would break into a meeting about—I checked the title—
Modelling Climate Change
? I suppressed a snort as I had an image of a bunch of science geeks floating down the catwalk wearing a range of raincoats and sunglasses.

‘The first session doesn’t start for an hour but you are welcome to go to the café or visit the exhibition in the college library.’

‘OK, thanks.’ I liked libraries; they’d always been a haven to me. Tucking the pack under my arm, I hurried off in the direction she had pointed. I was trusting that she wouldn’t remember that I’d already taken the Ann Peters badge and put the fact that it was missing down to a mistake, but just in case I worked on changing my appearance. I ducked into the Ladies and tied my hair up with a dull brown scarf. Then I put on my favourite pair of clear glass specs which gave me a studious air with their thick black frames. I’d made sure I looked very different from the day before, choosing a long-sleeved white shirt, cardigan and frumpy skirt. No earrings and thick-soled shoes completed the fashion-disaster look. As a final touch, I turned the name card round—didn’t want to bump into the real Ann with her name around my neck like an albatross. I wrote ‘Wendy Barrie’ in the slot, the first name that came to mind, following on the tail of Peters. Inspecting myself in the mirror, I thought I’d pass as a completely different person: Wendy, the ugly sister of the Cinderella who had lost her shoe.

Still, the make-up would have to go. Removing the glasses and running the water in the sink, I washed it off and dabbed my face dry with a hand towel, leaving my skin bare. Even I could see that no mascara or eyeliner made me look vulnerable and tired. I’d not slept in twenty-four hours or had so much as a sip of water for twelve. If I didn’t get this done quickly, I was going to be in no fit state to try again. I already knew the Seer was going to be disappointed with me; my target would not have had time to replace his stuff and all I could get from him today would be a wallet and a passport—that’s if I was lucky. My confidence had taken a battering. I couldn’t forget that the boy had resisted me yesterday; now he knew what to expect perhaps I’d not even get those few seconds of time-freeze. But unless I successfully stole something from him I’d die of thirst—that focused my mind like nothing else could.

Taking a deep breath to steady my fluttering nerves, I consulted the map at the front of the conference programme and headed for the library. I had no intention of looking at the exhibition but had decided it would be the best and least conspicuous place to spy on conference-goers. Finding a quiet corner in the environmental law section, I pulled a book off the shelf and propped it up in front of me, a barrier against the rest of the world. I had a good view—I could see the courtyard where the café was doing a good trade in early coffees and croissants, as well as the exhibition they were all supposed to be taking in.

My stomach rumbled, telling me I was hungry but a stranglehold on my throat warned me not to eat.

What would it be like, I wondered as I watched the students gather in the sunshine, to have such opportunities—travel, friendship, education? The couple of girls I’d spoken to on the site crossed my line of vision like gazelles on the veldt, slim and elegant. They were another species from me, superior beings unaware of just how lucky they were. There were a number of elephants too, lumbering boys who didn’t know what to do with their limbs, or how to juggle their stacks of books; I felt a bit less intimidated by them. A short Asian boy stalked through the crowd, a wading bird at the waterhole, picking up choice bits here and there. And then came the leopard, prowling into their midst with the fluid motion of the big cat, shrugging out of his backpack with a ripple of shoulders. I let out the breath I hadn’t realized I was holding. My target. He sat next to the gazelles, accepting a bite of croissant from the fair one. They chatted and laughed together, completely at ease in each other’s company. How did people become friends so quickly? Didn’t they know you couldn’t trust anyone? I watched from the sidelines, envious of that comfortable companionship but also suspicious. Nobody I knew behaved like that.

Coffee drunk, the three of them rose and headed in my direction, my leopard pausing briefly to say something to the wading bird. I shrank behind my book. It would be perfect if they came in here—I could get the job done with no fuss. Peeking over the top, I saw that he had left his bag behind in the charge of the Asian student. I felt a snap of annoyance; it was as if he did it on purpose to thwart me. So you aren’t making this easy for me then, big guy.

They were talking as they came in, their voices carrying in the hushed atmosphere of the library. I had already noticed that it was deserted out of term time, normal students already on holiday, and none of the others attending the conference were showing much interest in coming in from the sunshine.

My three targets circled the display boards.

‘Yves, have you rung your parents about your iPad yet?’ the dark gazelle asked, patting his arm.

Yves
. So that was his name. Like Yves Saint Laurent, the fashion designer, pronounced ‘Eave’, though it was spelt with a ‘Y’.