Misty Falls (27 page)

‘I did wonder maybe whether Uriel and Victor Benedict suspected me but I allowed Uriel to touch me and trace my history; he got nothing except an impression of a blank blameless night spent in a Cambridge hotel. They’re focused on that idiot, Eli Davis, who helpfully didn’t have an alibi for the time you disappeared.’ Johan crossed the campfire clearing and helped me to another log away from where I had been ill. He didn’t mention that, neither to tell me off or apologize, just ignored what he didn’t want to notice. ‘Alex was very upset with the Benedicts for suggesting I had anything to do with it. He’s a fine boy.’

I could imagine that Alex was massively confused. If I had vanished, he wouldn’t want his only family to be taken from him as well.

It was going to kill him when he learned what Johan was.

Alex?
I didn’t expect to succeed but my telepathy still had no way to escape Johan’s influence. I needed him so much it hurt.

‘You’ll feel better if you eat something.’ Johan gestured to my sandwich.

‘Maybe later.’ If there was a later. I wrapped the clingfilm back round the end I had bitten. Mozzarella and tomato. One of my favourite flavours until today. I’d only just noticed.

‘I imagine you want to know what happens next?’ Johan drained his coffee.

‘Yes.’ He raised a brow. ‘Please.’

‘I for one don’t like sleeping in a forest.’ He smiled as if I should get the joke. ‘My tastes are more
evolved
than that. I’ve told Alex I have to go on business but will be back next week to aid with the search if you haven’t been found. I was his only comforter, you know, as I suggested that you’d probably just run away, thinking yourself not worthy to be his soulfinder, and that you’d be back when you had had a chance to consider things in peace.’

‘How does that work with them thinking I’m dead?’

His thin mouth curved in a smile. He was enjoying this. ‘Well, I refused to believe it, naturally. I said that Crystal was letting fear blind her, that Alex would know if you were dead and he’s convinced you’re still alive.’

Because I was. I felt a little comforted by the fact Alex hadn’t given up on me.

Johan put the top back on his Thermos flask. ‘He was very encouraged by my faith in his instincts.’

Snake.

‘I promised to hurry back but had an unavoidable meeting in America to attend. As do you.’

‘Me?’

‘Yes. I’ve brought you a change of clothes. You are coming with me to Oregon for Thanksgiving.’

His shift of direction was as erratic as the path of a tornado, twisting one way then the next. ‘Why?’

‘Why? Because Thanksgiving is a family time, don’t you know that?’

He was making no sense. I took some hope from the fact that if he tried to take me abroad we’d have to leave the forest. Questioning him to make him see the pitfalls in that would probably end up with me left here dead. Cooperation seemed the right course.

‘Let’s go then.’

He pulled a carrier bag from his backpack—all new clothes bought from some supermarket. ‘There you are. I’ll get you some more things when we get to America.’

So he was serious about this going-abroad notion. I didn’t have my passport on me as that had been destroyed. He’d never get me through border control.

I took the bag and went behind another tree. I was relieved to see he had put in some thick layers, including gloves, scarf, and coat. I dressed rapidly. Somehow being warmer made it a little easier to think. I had to keep him happy, give him no cause to decide he should kill me and be done with it; but I also had to escape. His wild idea of going to Oregon—where was that exactly?—sounded like it could end in a showdown at the airport. I had to keep as far from him as possible. He could put me out with a touch; I guessed he could kill with a fingertip too.

That was probably what happened to the others.

We had to hike a long way back to the car. He had parked by the side of a minor road and we passed no one. I tried to work out what day it was. Wednesday? Americans always celebrated Thanksgiving on a Thursday, didn’t they? That meant he planned to be across the Atlantic very soon.

When we reached the car, he gestured to me to get in the back.

‘I’m afraid I can’t risk having you up front,’ he said in his hateful let’s-be-reasonable tone. ‘You might be seen.’

The rear had darkened windows and he had put up a grill, the sort used to contain dogs in the boot.

‘Now you have a choice: I can put you out or you let me secure your hands and feet. I won’t gag you: there’s no one to hear.’

Until we reached the airport.

I held up my wrists.

‘Good choice.’ He quickly fastened them with plastic ties. Once he was content that I was immobilized, he got in the driver’s seat and started the car. He put on the radio to fill the silence. When the news came on, we listened to the emotional appeal from my parents promising me that I wasn’t in any trouble for running away if that was what I had done and begging me to come back.

Please don’t think I did this to you on purpose,
I pleaded, wishing for a chink in Johan’s blackout to send my message through to them.

The announcer quickly moved on to war in the Middle East. Johan searched for another channel, settling for local radio with its almost continual travel announcements. I looked out of the window. I didn’t know this part of England very well but the road signs changed to the blue of a motorway. The plane icon pointed to Stansted as our destination—London’s third airport. We didn’t go in the main entrance but took a detour round to a gate for a private aviation company. The barrier folded back for Johan without him having to announce his arrival. My hopes of a public showdown were diminishing.

‘Don’t be surprised, Misty, when people don’t notice you,’ Johan said cheerfully. ‘I’m going to expand my gift to cover you so you won’t register on any of their senses. It takes a lot of effort for me to do this so I trust you won’t give me any trouble?’

I was fully intending to be as much trouble as I could so I said nothing.

He parked in front of a little glass building. ‘This is the terminal for VIPs and those with their own planes.’ He emptied out the glove compartment of anything connecting him to the car. ‘I won’t be long.’

I watched as he went into the building. The moment his back was turned and he was talking to the official at the reception, I tried the door. Locked. I tried to move the mechanism with telekinesis but I didn’t know how the catch worked and I lacked Alex’s gift to persuade doors to do what I wanted.

Johan was coming back. I sat very still.

He opened my door and cut the ties at my feet. ‘We’re good to go. Again, you have a choice: cooperate and remain conscious or do this the hard way.’

‘Conscious.’ I got out. There would be a crew, surely, people I could appeal to on the plane if nowhere else?

‘Good girl.’

He gripped the back of my coat to stop me trying to make a run for it and led me across to a plane—an executive jet of some sort. Beautiful, slender, and white—it was the kind of aircraft I’d only ever seen in films. A stewardess waited at the door.

‘Welcome, Mr Smith. So pleased to see you back with us.’

Johan gave her a broad smile. ‘Hebe, great to see you too.’

Now or never. ‘Please, won’t you help me?’ I shouted.

Johan poked me in the ribs, finger a threat, reminding me what he could do.

Her eyes slipped right past me. ‘Is there any luggage to bring aboard?’

‘No, it’s already loaded.’ He prodded me to go up the stairs.

‘Then I’ll inform the captain you’re ready to fly.’

She stepped inside. Johan pushed me over the threshold and into the main cabin. We walked past the row of four seats to a door at the back. He opened it and propelled me inside. It was a private cabin with a bed and a seat by the window.

‘Sit there.’ He buckled me into the seat. ‘The door will be locked. If I hear you making any noise to attract attention to yourself, I’ll be through that door first and that will be the last thing you know.’ He pinched my chin. ‘Do you understand?’

I nodded, tears filling my eyes despite my resolution not to show him any emotion.

He patted my head. ‘If you behave, I’ll bring you some food later. The flight takes about ten or so hours depending on the headwind.’

He left, locking the door from the outside.

Once alone, I sprang up to explore my prison. There was a little bathroom with sink, toilet and tiny shower. Other than soap and hand towels, there was nothing. The bed was made with a tightly stretched blanket and sheet. I could rip up the material but then do what with it? The seat by the window was fixed; the lighting was wall-mounted—no handy heavy-based lamp to turn into a weapon.

Come on, Misty, be realistic: you’re a smallish girl and he’s a tall man. You’re unlikely to do anything but annoy him if you attack.

But neither do I want just to fall in with his plans.

What other option do you have?

My inner dialogue stopped at that point as the engines started.

‘Mr Smith, on behalf of First Officer Finlay and myself, Captain Hussain, I’d like to welcome you aboard this flight to Portland, Oregon. We have been given our slot by air traffic control and expect to take off in five minutes. The weather forecast looks good at this time. Please be seated, buckle up, and enjoy your flight.’

The plane started to move. Johan had forgotten, or perhaps not intended, to remove my wrist ties. Having no immediate escape plan, I took my seat and grappled for the seatbelt. Gazing out the window, I had a last fleeting hope some airport employee would see me but the field was deserted as 747s lumbered along the taxiways like sleek white dinosaurs. We turned to the start of the runway, paused and then the aircraft moved with more determination. The front lifted, then the rear. We were airborne, climbing steeply. Johan had managed to get me out of England without even a hint of difficulty.

The captain came on again. ‘Mr Smith, in a few moments it will be safe to remove your seatbelt. Hebe will then serve you a selection of light snacks and drinks, followed by lunch when we reach our cruising height. Thank you for flying with Executive Manoeuvres, the world’s premier airline for business charters.’

As I had begun to piece together, Johan had hired his own plane. It sounded like he made a habit of it. It must cost a fortune. Where had he got the money?

The answer came quickly. His last victim had been a treasure seeker, and there had been others with similar skills—the Australian girl, the American trio with their stocks and shares. I had to assume money was no obstacle in my enemy’s plans for me.

The seatbelt light went off so I released the buckle. The door to my cabin opened and Johan slipped in.

‘I’m pleased to see you haven’t tried anything foolish.’

Only because I couldn’t think of what to do.

‘I’ll reward your cooperation by releasing your wrists. You may shower—I won’t need to use this bathroom.’

‘I’d like to get clean.’ Lying in the forest had left a layer of grime no handwash or clean clothes could remove.

‘I’ll bring you some lunch in an hour.’ He left, locking the door again.

There was a ‘call attendant’ button by the seat. Did I dare? Hebe did not expect anyone else to be aboard so would she even check? And if she did, what then? Would it endanger her and the crew? I guessed that was likely. Until I had a better idea what to do with that button, I’d leave it alone. Picking a fight with Johan while in the air was like releasing a swarm of killer bees in the cabin: dead stupid.

So, shower it was.

I stripped off in the little cubicle and stood under the spray. I let tears I’d been holding back fall with the water now there was no one to see. The ugly truth was that I was unlikely to survive this adventure. Johan had killed before, easily and with no regrets. For the moment he had a use for me but I was an obstacle to him monopolizing Alex’s love. That thought made it even worse: if he succeeded in killing me, he would also ruin Alex’s life, forcing him in his grief to rely on the very one who caused it. I wanted to scream at the obscenity of that.

My inner voice piped up: so you accept that Alex does need you for his life?

Yes, I did.

You were an idiot to make such a fuss at the pizzeria.

I knew that at the time, thanks. I just … just don’t feel enough for him.

Then you’d better fight for what you want—if you want him.

To the death, I promised myself.

As I had dismissed the idea of putting up a struggle on the plane, I decided to wait until we got on the ground and Johan was lulled into thinking I was going meekly along with his plans.

My teeth ached. Now was not the time to have a truth attack. Meek wasn’t a lie: I would be passive until the moment arrived for resistance. And my chance would only be one very brief second, I was sure of that. There were various things to look for. I needed to be conscious and out of his range. How far was that? I didn’t know. So far he had kept me by his side when he wanted to hide me from others. Taking my own truth gift as a guide, my influence spread to a room; beyond that they were free to lie without interference. I needed to get that distance before I tried.

And appeal to whom? I knew some of the Benedicts lived in the west of America—Yves and Phoenix were in California. How far was that? I cursed the fact I’d never paid attention to the map of the States, which surely I had to have seen loads of times. I had a vague memory of something called the Oregon Trail, one of the last settler routes, which is why I knew it was over the far side of the country. Biting my nails as I regretted my rubbish grasp of geography, I noticed an inflight magazine in the seat pocket. Pulling it out I turned to the page showing international airports. The pilot had mentioned Portland. Even though the map did not show state boundaries I now had a fair idea where we were headed: north of San Francisco, south of Seattle. The scale suggested the distances were still huge. I couldn’t speak to my mother from Cambridge, a journey of about a hundred and twenty miles, so I guessed that I’d be very unlikely to reach Phoenix or Yves.