Witch Fire (8 page)

He passed the fingerprint test and iris scan, and walked through the metal arch hung with iron bells. Arches like this were placed at all stages of the arrival and departure process, to give warning of witches who were trying to hex a bane. Glory was not far ahead, but once in the terminal, they were careful to keep out of each other’s way, even though their flight turned out to be delayed for over an hour.

It was only after Lucas had boarded the plane that he allowed himself to look for her. She was in her seat, chewing gum loudly, and absorbed in a stash of gossip magazines. A tinny beat rustled from her earphones. Her neighbour already had a long-suffering air.

Lucas settled into his seat and tried to relax. This proved impossible. Instead, he tried to collect his thoughts by going over the plans they’d made and the research they’d done. Names, faces and statistics scrolled through his head.

Wildings’ membership was a closely kept secret and MI6 had gone to considerable trouble to identify the five other students already enrolled. The eldest was Jenna White, aged seventeen, from California. Her father was an IT entrepreneur and dot-com millionaire. The photograph in the file had been taken at her school prom, and was a vision of tanned limbs, white teeth and big blue eyes. She’d joined Wildings three weeks ago, some time after the rumours of Endor infiltration emerged. Still, although a cheerleader-turned-terrorist was unlikely, it wasn’t impossible. Appearances were particularly deceptive when witchkind were involved.

Yuri Polzin certainly looked like trouble. According to his mugshot, the sixteen-year-old heir of a Russian oil tycoon had a scowling face, shaven head and stony glare. Yuri had joined Wildings at the same time as fourteen-year-old Anjuli Verma. Anjuli was an orphan, who had been brought up by her older sister, a successful Bollywood actress. The notes said she had previously been hospitalised with mental problems. The final girl was Mei-fen Zhou, the daughter of a senior official in China’s ruling party, who was the youngest student at thirteen.

It was Raphael Almagro, though, who had been the focal point of Lucas’s and Glory’s briefing. Aged sixteen, Raphael had been at Wildings for nearly eight months. His father was the Chief of Police in Cordoba, a small republic on the northern coast of South America. In the 1960s, a witchkind-backed revolutionary movement had overthrown a brutal dictatorship, and broken up the Cordoban Inquisition. The rebels were subsequently overthrown in turn by a military junta, but the Inquisition was never reinstated.

Times were changing, however. The upcoming presidential election was widely expected to be won by Senator Benito Vargas, who was riding high in the polls on an anti-witchkind, anti-corruption ticket. Vargas was on record for calling the police as criminal as the covens, and supported the use of private militias to hunt witches. No wonder Raphael’s family wanted him out of the way . . . or that WICA and its partners had marked him out as of special interest.

Wildings’ staff were almost as varied as its students. Three of them were ex-inquisitors: the head of security, the matron and the academy’s principal, Emil Lazovic. Lazovic was a Serbian national, but had worked all over the world in his former job in the diplomatic corps of the United Council of Inquisitors. Lucas found it hard to understand why former inquisitors would seek employment in such a place. Maybe they genuinely believed Wildings offered a necessary resource. Or maybe they were just unprincipled opportunists.

The curriculum followed the International Baccalaureate. In order to cater for the age range and abilities of the students, much of the teaching was one-on-one, though such a tiny school only required a handful of teachers. They were supported by a fitness instructor, a psychoanalyst and an assortment of housekeeping staff and security guards. The latter were all Swiss and mostly local. They too signed a confidentiality clause before joining the Wildings. They too were under suspicion. Once Lucas and Glory were at the academy, the only people they could trust were each other.

PART 2

Chapter 8

Compared to sky-leaping, flying in an aeroplane was no big deal, Glory thought dismissively. Where was the thrill? But she was still relieved to return to the solid ground of Zurich airport.

In the arrivals hall, a short muscular woman in a black trouser suit was holding up a sign with her name on it. A good distance apart, a man held up one for ‘L. Stearne’. Lucas was some way behind; he was still waiting for his bag to be unloaded when she left the collection point. Now it seemed they’d be driven to the academy separately. Wildings’ authorities didn’t want their witch-kids getting friendly without proper supervision.

Glory’s driver curtly introduced herself as Elga, then lapsed into a silence that lasted for most of the two-hour drive. The car was a gleaming hulk with blacked-out windows, and when Elga opened the boot, Glory noticed a telltale bulge in the woman’s jacket. Not just a chauffeur, then, but a member of Wildings’ armed security team – the so-called ‘school guardians’.

She decided not to waste energy on worrying what it would take for Elga to draw her gun. Here, finally, was Abroad, and she wanted to see as much of it as possible. Although the car’s tinted windows leached the colour from the view, she could tell the late-afternoon sky was as blue, the sun as golden, as the tourist information websites had promised. They sped past rolling green hills, silver lakes, snow-dusted mountains, toytown villages. Everything was like a child’s picture book, clean and bright.

As evening drew in, the mountains loomed larger, their lines more jagged. Signs appeared for
Swiss National Park
. Elga, though, turned off at a small unmarked road that wound up to a narrow valley.

There was a village at its head; a huddle of houses with high-pitched roofs, white walls and exposed beams. Every balcony was hung with flowers, every window twinkled with light. There were people strolling in the cobbled lanes. Just for a moment, Glory was able to imagine herself on holiday too. But the car sped swiftly through, leaving the lights and people behind, moving up the valley towards the mass of pine.

The countryside was as alien to Glory as Abroad. In the fading light, she saw how different this landscape was to the neat meadows and rolling hills they’d passed earlier; a true wilderness. Uneasily, she peered out of the back window, looking in vain for Lucas’s car.

The road became a track, leading to a high wire fence and a gate with a checkpoint.
Private Property
signs in English and several other languages were prominently displayed as well as
Danger!
warnings.

‘
The locals don’t go in here. Nor do tourists,’ said Elga, after presenting her pass for inspection and exchanging a few clipped words with the sentry.
‘
There are wild animals in this forest. Wolves, bears. And stories that the place is haunted too.’

Glory didn’t believe in ghosts. There’d been no mention of Swiss wolves or bears in her research. But anything could be hiding in those trees, so thick and dark and silent.

Elga looked at her in the mirror. ‘Don’t fear. The fence is electrified. There are patrols. You will be very safe.’

Her smile had an ironical slant. Glory understood. The fence was to keep her in, as well as danger out.

After a mile or so the trees began to thin and they reached a stretch of grassland, sloping up to a hill. It was crowned by a small castle in the Gothic style, its walls high and palely gleaming in the dusk. A place of dreams, and fae-tales. But in the fae-tales, the witches were mostly wicked, putting poor princesses under a bane until a prince came to the rescue.

The car came to a halt by the steps up to a wide stone terrace. Glory got out stiffly. For a moment, she had the sensation that the mountains, trees and sky were closing in on her. How ridiculous to feel claustrophobic in the countryside! Yet she had a homesick craving for concrete. For fumes and noise. Her nose twitched at the cool green smell of pines and earth.

‘Hello, my dear, and welcome to Wildings.’ A dumpy woman in twinset and pearls was coming down the steps. She had a round, cosy face, but Glory watched her warily. She remembered from the files that Mrs Heggie, the school matron, was an ex-inquisitor.

‘I
do
hope your journey wasn’t too tiring.
Such
a pretty drive, isn’t it? Now, I’m sure you’re
longing
to take a look around, but before you get settled, Principal Lazovic was hoping to have a quick word. You won’t mind, will you, popping in to say hello?
Splendid
. Don’t worry about your bags – we’ll have someone take them up to your room.’

The entrance hall was like the lobby of a posh hotel, with antique rugs over polished flagstones and flower displays so luxuriant they looked fake. The principal’s study was much the same. There were no school trophies, photos or certificates on display, just lots of tasteful watercolours of the local countryside.

The head of Wildings Academy came to shake Glory’s hand. He was a small man with an alert, pointed face and neat speckled beard. ‘Emil Lazovic. It’s a pleasure to meet you.’

‘Glory,’ she muttered.

‘Ah,’ he said. ‘Yes. Of course. Glory . . . for Gloriana. Such an evocative name. So many, er,
interesting
associations.’

He smiled at her engagingly. She knew that by ‘evocative’ he meant ‘provocative’ – Gloriana had been the informal title of Elizabeth I, the so-called Fae Queen. Glory wasn’t sure how to react. Her brief at Wildings was to be troublesome enough to attract attention, but not so obnoxious that she’d be thrown out. She settled on a sulky shrug, and put some gum in her mouth to soothe her nerves.

Principal Lazovic invited her to sit in one of the overstuffed armchairs and perched opposite. ‘Well, Glory, I’m pleased to say you’re not our only new arrival. One of your compatriots will be joining us shortly. Before then, I’d like to take the opportunity to have a little chat. Just the two of us.’ He gave another impish smile. ‘As you know, the students at Wildings are a very select, very specialist group –’

‘Right,’ said Glory with a snort. ‘Special Needs.’

The principal tutted in a way that was humorous as well as disapproving. He held up a copy of the school prospectus and began to read aloud. ‘
By removing troubled young people from the pressures of their home environment and relationships, Wildings Academy provides a safe haven where they can explore the reckless and deviant behaviours arising from their condition. At Wildings, they will learn to accept their place in the wider community, and find positive solutions for the challenges ahead . . .
’ He gave a neat little laugh.
‘
This is the language of Wildings, you see. The vocabulary of your “condition”; the terms of your “trouble”. Do you understand?’

‘I understand why I gotta be here,’ Glory said grudgingly, ‘if that’s what you mean. Don’t mean I have to like it.’

‘Nobody at Wildings is held against their will. If we fail to meet your needs, you are free to leave.’

‘And go where? I ain’t exactly flavour of the month back home.’

‘
Then I’m sure you’ll learn to make the most of your stay here.’ Principal Lazovic nodded and smiled. ‘It is true your background is somewhat . . . unconventional. This is not something that worries me, but some of your classmates might be a little less open-minded.’ His eyebrows waggled mischievously. ‘So it might be an idea to keep the details of your family, ahem, business to yourself.’

‘I know when to keep my gob shut, all right? I won’t cause no trouble as long as no one comes troubling me.’

‘In that case, I trust your time here will be a very peaceful one.’ There was a knock at the door. ‘Aha! Our other new arrival. Come in, come in.’

As Lucas entered the room, it was hard for Glory to conceal a rush of relief. Remembering the first time they met, Glory folded her arms protectively across her chest, chewing her gum loudly. Lucas winced, exactly like he had before.

‘Gloriana, meet Lucas,’ Principal Lazovic said.

‘Hello,’ Lucas said with frigid politeness.

Principal Lazovic invited him to take a seat. ‘I’ve been having a little chat with Glory, telling her something of what Wildings is about. Naturally, this is a difficult time for you both. We at Wildings will do everything in our power to help, but it’s important for you to appreciate the constraints we work under.
Everything
here is done within the law.
All
of us – staff and students – have a duty to uphold it. Any hint of deviancy and you’ll be out. There are no second chances.’

The principal’s tone was grave. Yet all the while, there was a glimmer of a twinkle in his eyes.

‘Your privacy and protection are of the utmost importance. That means, I’m afraid, a certain amount of isolation. Matron will inform your families of your safe arrival, but I must ask you to hand over your mobile phones and any other sources of communication you have brought with you. In the meantime, you can write and email, subject to supervision. Your families can also arrange to visit. Although most of your time will be spent on campus, you can apply for permission to visit the local village. One of our guardians will accompany you there.

‘While we take our academic programme very seriously, your personal well-being is our priority. For this reason, we have a trained counsellor on our staff. Your meetings with her will soon become a normal part of your school routine. When the time comes for you to leave the academy, you will be well prepared for the challenges ahead.’