beats per minute (17 page)

She shook her head fervently. ‘No. Christ, the poor guy lost
his brother. He needed to continue his work here. It’s really helped him get
over it.’

‘But that’s the real question: is he over it? Clearly, his
proximity to Declan is proving hazardous.’

Bree was thoughtful. ‘He’s not ready to be moved from the
base yet, that’s for sure. He might be over Sebastian’s death but he’s not
ready to let all the memories go. I’ve even found him asleep in Sebastian’s old
room – and not just once.’ Max’s eyes widened, but he let her continue. ‘He blamed
Declan for what happened, but that was just a knee-jerk reaction; once he’d
calmed down he knew it was no-one’s fault. And look, he seemed really,
genuinely happy to be involved in the training over the last few weeks. He’s
been a good teacher as far as I can see.
Particularly to
Raegan.’
Bree hesitated.

‘What is it?’

‘Well... I’m not sure how relevant this is,’ Bree admitted.
‘I think it’s possible that their arguing has more to do with Raegan than
Sebastian.’

‘Say no more.’ Max sighed. ‘I should have guessed. Are they
dating?’

‘Not yet. There are signals, though.’

Max took another sip of his coffee, wincing at its
bitterness. ‘Ok. I’ll let this one slide- sort of. I want them both to come and
see me, and I’ll read them the riot act. They are both to spend
this evening running laps
instead of rec time. But Sam can
stay on active duty and I won’t revoke any of Declan’s privileges.’

A tiny smile tugged at her lips but she ducked her head so
he would not see. ‘That sounds fair.’

‘And now we come to Miss O’Roarke herself.’ Max’s voice grew
gentler, as it always did when he wanted her to do something. ‘The Sentinel
have
been very interested in her progress, which is why I
have asked for such thorough reports from the healers.’ The Sentinel
have
demanded reports, more like – and they’ve been running
you ragged, Bree thought instantly. That explained the bloodshot eyes and
rumpled suit. She kept this to herself.

‘The healers have made a fascinating discovery. It’s only a
possibility at present,’ Max continued, idly.
‘Still.
It’s very exciting. It appears that the Trace might run in Raegan’s family.’

Bree could hardly believe her ears.
‘The
Trace?
I thought that ability had been lost...’

‘So did
we
. ‘

She leaned against the desk now, digesting. ‘I could feel she
was different. Not just the way she was treated – Yali nearly had a heart
attack when he thought she was injured – but her essence. It stands out.’

‘I always said you were not completely without psychic
ability.’ By leaning on the desk she had, unwittingly, moved closer to him.
Steadily, he held her gaze for longer than strictly necessary.

She flinched away. ‘Don’t.’

‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘I know you’re about to.’ Bree marched away, rubbing her
arms. ‘You’re going to ask me to spy, aren’t you? I don’t want to.’

‘It’s not spying,’ he soothed, stalking her slowly,
carefully.
The master predator.
She felt him closing
in and the familiar panic crept into her bones. ‘I just want you to observe.
You don’t have to do anything you wouldn’t normally do – you already spend a
lot of time in the appropriate places, after all. Just take stock, and if you
see any evidence of the Trace, inform me.’

She
stiffened,
her back still to
him. ‘And then what?’

‘Nothing.
I promise.’ He was
genuine now. ‘We only want to keep tabs on it, that’s all. The Censor himself
agreed that there was no point in disrupting the established routine – it’s a
precarious thing and needs time to mature, without any interference.’

Bree sighed, but he knew by the slight loosening of her
shoulders that she would do it.
‘Fine.’
Her hazel eyes
were huge and wary when she faced him again.

‘I meant it when I asked how you were, earlier.’

‘You should ask after my father,’ Bree tried to lighten the
mood. ‘He’s having some shooting party in a few weeks, keeps saying how you
haven’t responded to his invite.
Bad form, Max.’

‘Will you be there?’ Max smiled.

She tossed her head.
‘Perhaps.’

The buzzer cut through the tension like a knife.

Max moved away to answer.
The
removal of his presence and the intense pressure that came with it was as
cleansing as cold water. Bree caught herself. Seeing an escape, she bolted, not
thinking, just moving, zombie-like, for the door.

‘Just a minute,’ he barked, and took his finger off the
button so that it was muted.

The soft words, when they came, offered no release.

‘Find out everything you can about the girl. Don’t
disappoint me, Bree.’

She knew all too well what such disappointment could
provoke. While she could, she fled.

***

It had happened again.

She had only been dropping off the broken quarterstaff as a
favour to Robert. No-one else but the optio even knew she was here. She was
sure she hadn’t been followed – and she was pretty thorough with her checks
nowadays. Since the accident it was like she spent every moment looking over
her shoulder.

So why did she now find herself locked in a small room,
again, the door having slammed shut behind her,
again?

Raegan was not a fan of confined spaces and the Armoury
storage cupboard was even smaller than the ladies’ loo. Her sweating hands
grasped for a door handle, though she already knew it was pointless. There was
no inside handle. She had been trapped. Hysteria rising, she closed her eyes,
taking deep gulps of air.

Why did this keep happening?

Her screams for help bounced uselessly off the heavy iron
door. The sad, broken quarterstaff was now clenched tightly enough between her
palms to give her multiple splinters.

Her eyes flew open. The quarterstaff!

It was the loud, thudding connection of solid wood against
metal that finally alerted someone to her presence. Raegan remained angrily
unaware. Just as she had missed the sound of a hand pushing the door closed on
her, she now missed the sound of the door opening.

The source for her battering ram now removed, she was pitched
out into the open air.

It didn’t stop there. Scrambling to regain her balance, her
foot connected with the sloping, muddy earth, slippery from a fresh fall of
rain. As she began to skid, the noise she made – loud, high- pitched and
guttural - was something like ‘Aiiiiieeeee’. Skittering wildly, she flew almost
the length of the building, finally losing control completely and falling flat
on her back. Winded, covered in dirt, she couldn’t even lay there and stew in
her own mortification: her rump felt as if it was on fire.

Red mist descended before her eyes. Before she knew it, she
was on her feet, ready to kick the crap out of something – or someone. The
first thing she did was to hurl the stupid quarterstaff over her shoulder.

But her ears were not met with the satisfying ring of timber
against metal. Instead, there was a dull, cushiony thud, and a muffled ‘Oof.’

It suddenly occurred to Raegan that she was not alone.

She whipped round to find a crumpled, skinny man with a
shock of ginger hair, clutching at his stomach. The pair of eyes gazing up at
her from behind huge spectacles
were
wide with shock.

‘Are you trying to kill me?’ The man’s voice was
surprisingly deep, given his lean frame – he looked like a piece of stretched
elastic, or Mike Teavee in
Charlie and the Chocolate Factory.
He glanced
down at the piece of wood that had just knocked him for six.
‘And…
with one of my own weapons?’

Before Raegan could answer, he reached for the
quarterstaff.  She gawped in horror.

‘No – Jasper, don’t do that, it’s-‘

As if in slow motion she saw him lean against the staff,
using it as a support while he struggled up from the slippery ground. She saw
the wood ripple, the already-present crack deepening under the extra weight
until the end snapped off completely. He seemed to flail helplessly for a
moment as the staff gave way, then his feet slid out from under him. Down he
went, slithering helplessly back into the mud.

‘-broken.’
She finished.

The words hung in the air between them as slowly, almost
disbelievingly, Jasper raised his head.

It wasn’t the mud dripping down his cheeks, or the way his
limbs were completely spread-eagled, contorted in a way that would not be
anatomically possible for most boys. It wasn’t even the funny squelching sound
his bum had made as it hit the ground. It was his face. The expression of utter
confusion and bewilderment – like ‘how on earth did I get here?’ -  was
just the final straw. A moment ago she had been on the verge of tears and now
she was giggling.

But that was Jasper. He always made her laugh.

Their friendship had been the most surprising thing to
happen to Raegan since her arrival at Unit Prime. Everything else, no matter
how weird or scary, pretty much fitted the bill – she now expected the
unexpected. Jasper was normal. Like a remnant from her old life. And that was
the shocking thing.

They only met two weeks ago but it was like she’d always
known him. 

‘Cut it out!’ he grumbled now as she hurried to help him up.

‘I’m- not- laughing-
‘ she
managed
through clenched teeth. A barely-suppressed snigger followed shortly after.
Wrapping an arm around his skinny frame, shaking silently, she lifted him to
his feet and they began to walk.

‘What were you doing in the storage room, anyway?’

Raegan’s laughter died in her throat. What had that all been
about? Her meltdown felt unreal, now; far away; mad, really, like it had
happened to someone else. Or as if she’d imagined the whole thing. Truth kept
shifting, slipping through her fingers like the beads in the hourglass pendant.

Now, in the warm and bright, the answer was obvious. ‘I was
dropping off the quarterstaff for Robert; managed to bust it in training.
Forgot to prop open the door and the next thing I know the wind has blown it
shut. I’m such an idiot!’

‘You broke my quarterstaff…?’

‘Oops.’

‘How?’

‘Well. I sort of… landed on it.’

It was Jasper’s turn to laugh. ‘You
landed
on it
?
’

‘Yeah.’

He held up the implement; it had nearly caved in at one end
and the severed tip was completely mashed. ‘That’s impressive. You know this
thing is made out of wenge, right?
50% more dense than oak.
Incredibly strong.’

‘Yeah, yeah,’ Raegan muttered. ‘I get it. My arse is huge. I
need to cut down on the custard creams.’

By now they had reached Jasper’s station at the end of the Armoury.
Stomping ahead, Raegan flopped down onto a chair and turned away from her
friend. She started flipping through a magazine crossly.

A few minutes passed in silence as Jasper checked the
temperature on various furnaces, studying the molten metal within. Then he
looked over at Raegan, who was doing a good impression of a black storm cloud.

‘Raegan?’

‘Yes?’ she said huffily.

‘You hungry?
Thirsty?’

She shrugged.

‘I’ve got some cracking new treats for us to try.
Special delivery from my mate Ed.
He travels all over the
place. This lot are from China. Don’t have the faintest idea what they are.
Kind of exciting, really, like extreme eating.
A new thrill
sport.’

That did it; her lips were curving up at the edges now. ‘Oh,
go on then.’

She could never stay grumpy for long.

‘I’ll even throw in some custard creams…’

The magazine just missed his head.

***

The Armoury, where Jasper slept and worked, was an imposing
sight. Looming out of the darkness, halfway between the main cluster of Unit
Prime buildings and the wilds of the Labyrinth, the warehouse was a huge,
slanting beast made out of corrugated metal.

It was a little friendlier on the inside, but only by a
small margin. It was vast.
And well-stocked.
There
were blades hanging neatly in rows, kept secure within glass cases; there were
axes, crossbows and scythes on separate pegs, their sharp edges/arrows
sheathed; there were blocks of wood and hunks of metal standing stoutly on the
floor; and there were various table tops, metal counters, and freestanding vices
with mallets and hammers meticulously kept within their holders. The workshop
was open plan, surrounded by crate after crate of materials and half-finished
implements.

And above the central workstation was steel plaque, with
letters engraved in a plain, functional script: Custos Jasper Horatius Fettes.

Jasper was in fact Jasper Fettes.
Tristan
Fettes’ son.
On their first meeting Raegan had found that piece of
information almost more amazing than the fact that this shy, sci-fi fanatic
from Yorkshire was the ace steelsmith, welder, and general craftsman in charge
of the Unit’s weaponry.

To Raegan the connection to Ramsey had been as instantly
comforting as the chess-set she spied on Jasper’s desk; like a doormat spelling
out ‘Welcome’. And there was just something about Jasper. He seemed… familiar.
Like a friend already, though she barely knew him. Maybe it was because he
reminded her of Tristan and, by proxy, Bridey and Con. She missed her
grandparents very much.

And so the Armoury soon became a little slice of home. At
first she visited under the guise of ‘chess practice’; Jasper was a pro and
required regular practice, and she was the only one in the Unit interested in
playing, so why not? But the chessboard soon became a formality. They would
stay up late, chatting about anything and everything and sometimes nothing at
all. Jasper was a little older than her at 18, but it didn’t matter. It was a
different friendship to any she had ever had before and it was also one of the
most
fun
.
The
most
easy
.