Shadow Breakers (15 page)

No. It can't be.

I look out of the window.

I gather my resolve. I made a decision a while ago to be part of this, to trust them and let them in. They are not the Weirdos; they are my friends. I need to go with this, I need to be sure about this. If this is the truth . . .

I thought I knew who I could trust. But I think of all those times when Jade tried to steer me away from the so-called Weirdos, and I feel angry now that I might have been used, betrayed.

I nod. “Let's go in.”

We have stopped on the other side of the street from the Copper Beeches Children's Home.

It's chilly. Wind rustles the leaves and scatters the blossoms like snow. We line up, a row of silhouettes — Josh and Cal in their long, dark coats, me in my leather jacket, Ollie in his duffle coat.

Lyssa is staying in the van with Miss B to monitor readings. All of us have our eyes screened with wraparound shades. There is a good reason for this. The thing uses heat and light, we know that much, and these are fitted with ultrascreen lenses to protect against flares and flashes. Miss Bellini doesn't want us taking chances. It seems we've reached the point where this thing could attack us if cornered. If Miss Bellini's worried, I am.

“Anything, Miranda?” says Josh.

“I'm trying to get a . . . sense here. There's nothing.”

“She could be screening,” Josh murmurs. “Okay. Cal, how are we doing this?”

Cal sounds cool and confident, as usual. “You and Miranda take the front. Get in on some pretext. Ollie and I will scout around the back. Bound to be a window or a cellar or something we can get in through.”

My heart is pumping again, but this time it's good. This time it's not fear, but a sense of purpose. I take another gulp from the bottle of water, as my mouth still feels like sandpaper.

“Okay,” says Josh. “Let's do this.”

He and I start up the driveway to the door, while Cal and Ollie duck down so they are screened by the hedges and bushes as they make their way around the edge of the building toward the back.

Josh and I march along without speaking, our footsteps crunching on the gravel. We walk up the steps to the front door.

“We've not got a cover story yet,” he says worriedly, reaching out his hand for the door knocker.

I grab his hand and pull it back. “Who needs cover stories?”

I flip out my library card, just as I did when I first got into the Seaview Hotel by foul means. Josh watches with interest as I slip the plastic card into the tiny crack between the wooden door and its frame, at about the height where I estimate the catch to be. I wiggle it up and down a few times, putting my ear and hand to the door.

Josh is looking around nervously. “Whatever you're doing, could I suggest you get on with it?”

I smile. It's nice getting one up on Josh for a change. “Patience is a virtue, Joshua,” I murmur. I like that. It's something my mother often says. I'm not in the habit of quoting my mother, but it can be quite useful.

There is a
click
, and the door opens.

“Not bad.”

“That's praise from you.”

He nods. “Keep behind me.”

“But —”

“You do as I say!” His voice is suddenly harsh, his eyes cold and full of determination. He really means this. He means it more than anything. “I'm not putting you in danger.”

I shrug. “Her room's on the first floor,” I say. “In case you wanted to know.”

Josh nods again. “Right.” He enters the hall and I follow, keeping close behind him.

I'm feeling great now, like the water and fresh air have cleared out my head. I'm ready to go. Ready for anything. I feel decisive, resolute. As if Jade's deception and betrayal have given me new strength.

Mrs. Armitage doesn't seem to be around, luckily — she's probably in the kitchen at the end of the hall. As quietly as we can, Josh and I start to climb the stairs.

Halfway up I grab his arm. “What are we going to do when we find her?”

He looks down at me, raising his eyebrows. “You don't know?” he says, and that cheeky half grin is back.

“No, or I wouldn't be asking!”

We reach the top. Josh holds my gaze for a second, but he doesn't answer the question.

“Which one is it?” he asks, looking down the landing.

I nod toward the purple door facing us at the corner of the landing, the one with the huge JumpJets poster and the soccer pennants. “That one.”

“Okay.”

He starts to stride forward, but I grab him and pull him back, almost managing to spin him around to face me. I'm surprised at my own strength.

“Joshua!” I'm hissing at him through clenched teeth. “Tell me what is going to happen here.”

He hesitates, then takes out a small, slim yellow cylinder about the size of a glue stick.

I frown. “And what's that?”

“Insurance,” he says, and there's something unsettling about the way he says it.

As he turns and heads down the corridor to Jade's room, I see him slot the cylinder into a gleaming silver device he's unfolded from his pocket. It extends like a collapsible tube. A kind of gun. My eyes widen.

In the same instant, I hear the fire door open down the corridor and I see Cal and Ollie running toward us. Cal's boots are pounding on the wooden floor.

“Do it and get out now!” Cal shouts. “We're detected!”

Josh looks back at me, once.

The unmistakable voice of Mrs. Armitage echoes through the house.

“You kids! What are you
playing
at?”

Josh steps forward and kicks Jade's door open. It swings, hits the wall with a loud slam, and springs back, but Josh is in.

And now I realize things have gone wrong, and I've got to stop him. Nobody has thought about me. They've just presented me with this situation. Told me that my friend is not who I think she is. It feels wrong now; it feels as if we are doing something we should not be. What gives us the right? It's Jade. My first real friend here.

I scream in anger and throw myself at the door, knocking Josh off-balance. He staggers as he swivels around in a half circle, leveling the device.

He stops. We are all breathing heavily. It takes us a second or two to realize that Jade's room is empty.

The sash window is open, curtains fluttering in the breeze.

Ollie hurries over to it, leans out, shaking his head as he looks back at Cal. “There's a drainpipe,” he says.

I allow myself a small smile. So. Jade is not stupid. She really has upped and gone, just like she said. But where, though? Where would she have gone? She mentioned a grandma in Basildon, but . . .

Cal curses and kicks the wall, dislodging a small amount of plaster.

“Careful,” I say. “You'll have to pay for that.”

Cal spins around and comes storming over to me.

I've done it now. That wasn't a good idea.

She shoves me hard, practically pinning me up against the wall. I swear I have never seen her green eyes so cold and hard with anger.

“You
stupid
little . . . You could have got us all killed!”

My head is pounding. I don't like the way Cal is snarling, gripping my collar. I can feel my throat constricting in fear. Cal's hot, minty breath is right up in my face. And I don't know if it's the fear, or that latent psychic ability I'm supposed to have, but the two fillings in my teeth are
humming
, aching.

Like I said. Dangerous wildcat. And I'm cornered now.

“Leave her,” says Josh quietly. “It's not her fault.”

She doesn't look at him, but keeps her cat eyes on me. “If it had been in there . . . think what could have happened. All because
she
can't focus. I told Miss Bellini. I said she'd be no good.”

I'm shocked, and I look from Cal to Ollie and then to Josh.

Josh looks abashed. The silver gunlike device in his hand seems incongruous. “We had to vote on whether we thought you'd be an asset to the team. We all voted yes, except . . .”

Cal backs away from me, letting me go. The strange feeling in my teeth starts to ebb away.

“Yeah,” she says with a shrug. “Except me.” She doesn't look sorry.

“We all made mistakes when we started,” says Ollie. The others turn to look at him. “Well, it's true.”

Cal opens her mouth, I assume to give a cutting retort. But there is then a thumping on the stairs, and we all turn as one.

Mrs. Armitage, red-faced and puffing, is heading up the landing toward us. She does a double take when she catches sight of me.

“Miranda! Could you
please
kindly explain what all this is about?”

I look back into the room, where Josh is somewhat sheepishly trying to hide the large, silver, gunlike object behind his back, and failing. I turn back to Mrs. Armitage.

“I'm sorry, Mrs. Armitage,” I say. “Just stupid kids. Having fun.”

I push past her and head down the stairs, not looking back.

Not at her, nor at any of them.

“I am
so
not doing this!”

I am angry. Miss Bellini sits calmly, tapping her pen on the desk as she listens to me. Josh may be trying to look nonchalant — his feet on the table like he hasn't got a care in the world — but he's clearly upset. He's not such a tough one after all.

The others are below us, a thirty-foot steel ladder away, and I bet they've been able to hear me shouting for the last few minutes.

“What are we
doing
? It's a Sunday afternoon. Ordinary kids, oh, yeah, ‘Mundanes,' right,” — I do the sarcastic air quote thing — “they're out at soccer, the movies. What are we up to? Chasing around after
nothing
. A shadow that doesn't exist. Running around on a wild-goose chase after one of my
friends
, actually.”

Miss Bellini puts down her pen as if she's irritated by her own tapping. “Miranda,” she says calmly, in that velvety voice of hers. She seems to be gathering her thoughts. “Miranda . . . I am starting to wonder about you.”

I stop in my tracks. “You are?” Crossly, I push a strand of hair back out of my eyes.

She smiles. “Yes. I'm thinking I made an even better decision than I thought in taking you on. Sit down.”

“I'm standing. I want to be standing up when I hand you this back.” I pull out the black Shadow-card and fling it onto the desk.

Miss Bellini nods, presses her fingertips together. “Joshua,” she says, peering over her glasses, “perhaps you'd like to explain to Miranda about the hardware?”

Josh holds up the silver device. “It's a, um, well it's a psycho-tronic wave inverter,” he says. “Sorry. Think of it as a sort of . . . spook gun.”

I fold my arms. “Now you are
seriously
winding me up.”

“It's . . . what we use when there doesn't seem to be any other resort,” says Josh. “It tunes into the sub-ether, um, wavelengths, and homes in on paranormal activity. And then if it can lock onto the essence” — he taps the yellow cylinder — “it traps the beast. In here. Like a fly in amber.”

I snort. “So what happened to circles of salt? And chalking a pentagram on the floor, and muttering ‘flibberty-dibbety-dob, begone, foul fiend'?”

Miss Bellini sighs. “Don't
mock
, Miranda. The old ways, the old rituals of banishment, still have their uses, but . . .” She spreads her hands, raises her eyebrows. “There are new ways of doing things. We're finding our feet in the technological age.”

“Anyway,” Josh interjects, “I think circles of salt are for slugs.” Miss Bellini and I glare at him. He shrugs. “Sorry. Just . . . you know. In the interests of accuracy.”

I lift the device up off the table. It's surprisingly light, and I can hold it in one hand. Gingerly, I put it back on the table.

“It's all right,” says Josh, “it's not going to explode. Just needs . . . sensitive handling.”

What annoys me is the way they let out their knowledge a bit at a time, as if they still don't trust me to know everything that's going on.

And Cal — predatory, slinky, feline Cal. I had wondered if I might start to trust her more, but she has shown her true colors now.

I start to think about some of the conversations that have gone on in Control — or on the secret phone frequencies — when I haven't been around.

Like Cal voting against me.

What other secrets does she keep . . . ?

“Miranda,” says Miss Bellini, “you have to realize what we are
dealing
with.” She leans forward, and her dark face looks grim. “This . . . thing you know as your friend Jade Verdicchio is old and cunning. Centuries old. It is a devious and malevolent force. One of which most of the people you walk past every day are blissfully ignorant. But we . . . we have a
duty
to sort this out. Because nobody else is going to.”

I nod. “Yes, Miss Bellini. I know.” I slump into a chair, feeling a crashing tiredness in my legs and arms. I haven't slept much in the past couple of days. “I keep seeing things that make me question . . . everything I've always assumed. It's just that it's all so
new
to me.”

She smiles. “It was new to me once, Miranda. But I need to know you are with us. I need to know we can count on you.” She fixes me with her hard gaze, dark eyes compelling me to look at her.

“You can count on me, Miss Bellini.”

“You're Jade's friend, we know that. If there is anything — anything at all — that you're holding back, something that might help us . . .”

Basildon.
That's Essex, isn't it? Other side of London. Two hours away or more. I wonder what her grandma's name is. If it's her dad's mum, then . . . well, there can't be that many Verdicchios in Basildon.

I hesitate.

“I'll tell you if there is, Miss Bellini.”

Why did I do that? I don't know. Something isn't right, that's why. Something hasn't quite convinced me. The way they are treating me, the way Cal reacted especially, makes me want to keep that piece of information for myself, as something that may be useful.

Miss Bellini holds my gaze for a second or two.

“All right, Miranda,” she says softly.

There is a clattering on the ladder, and the others join us, Cal with an armful of rolled-up paper.

“Just a quick thought,” Cal says, and unrolls what turns out to be a detailed map of Firecroft Bay and the harbor. “Josh, talk us through this.”

“Oh, yeah. These old maps. I got them out of the archives. Been trying to map where the ley lines converge . . . to see where our errant Animus might end up.” He looks up at me, with a charming smile, trying to draw me back in. “You in with this, Miranda?”

I shrug.

“Okay,” Cal says. She gives me a warning look. “Where did you see it in the park?”

I point, grudgingly, to the south corner of Craghollow Park. Lyssa leans over and puts an
X
there with a red marker pen.

“And then it drew energy from the school and the area around it.” Lyssa draws a ring around our school.

“And the Abbey.”

Lyssa draws another red ring.

I think I'm starting to see where this may be going. I look at Josh, wondering if he's had the same thought, but I can't read him.

“The power drains we've been scanning for weeks,” Lyssa says. She marks three more red crosses on the map, all on or around the Millennium Estate. We stare at the map, at the crosses that are now forming a circle.

“Anything linking them?” I ask.

Cal looks up, smiling. It's almost as if she has forgotten her earlier anger with me. “Yes, actually. Lyssa?”

Lyssa marks one more cross on the map — on a large building, right in the middle of the circle of crosses.

“The power station,” I say.

“They supply the green energy for Bartram Buses as well,” says Ollie. “The company that does the school run.”

“Places with Plague connections, too,” says Josh. “The Crag Hollows, where they burned witches, and the Abbey, where victims were buried . . .”

“It's all coming together,” I say.

Josh whistles softly. “You know,” he says, looking up at me, “this psychic stuff is all very well. But at times, you just can't beat old-fashioned detective work.”

“Yeah,” says Lyssa cheekily. “We don't all get to play with the toys.”

Josh grins, picks up the spook zapper, and points it playfully at Cal. “Get thee hence to endless night,” he says.

“Don't. Even as a joke.” Cal pushes him away. “Miss B, tell him.”

“Joshua,” Miss Bellini says softly.

“Sorry.”

“But when?” I say suddenly.

Everyone turns to look at me.

I shrug. “It's all very well knowing the likely where,” I point out. “But we can't stake the place out every night and hope. And from what you lot tell me, I gather the police aren't much help to you in these situations. So when's it going to happen?” I look around at them all. “Well? Anyone got any ideas? Because I have.”

Miss Bellini, to her credit, does no more than raise an eyebrow. “Do share, Miranda,” she says. “But first . . .” She pushes my Shadow-card back across the table toward me. “I take it you won't be resigning
just
yet?”

I hold the card between my thumb and forefinger for a few seconds.

“Not yet,” I say, and pop it back inside the pocket of my jacket. “So. Who wants to hear my theory?”

They all look at one another, then back at me.

“But before I tell you,” I say, “I want no more lies. No more half-truths. No more not telling me how you deal with things, and
no
more stupid secret tranquilizers!”

I glower at Josh. He holds his hands up defensively. “That wasn't my idea,” he says in a pained voice, and glares at Cal. She looks away.

O-kaaaaay.
That's
noted. Thank you, Josh.

“You stop doubting me,” I say. “From now on, I'm in on
everything
. Got that?”

Surprisingly, nobody laughs.

I think they know I really mean it.

We cluster around the main computer desk. Ollie is at the keyboard.

“You'd better be right about this, Miranda,” says Cal.

“Tell you what, Cal — if I'm not, then you can kick me off the team, okay? And I'll go back to being a nice little Mundane, eating chips, playing netball, and not getting in anyone's way. That suit you?” I smile sweetly.

“Girls!” says Miss Bellini firmly.

We exchange sharp looks and return our attention to the computer.

“What's up?” Lyssa is leaning over Ollie's shoulder.

“Nothing.” He's jabbing at keys and clicking the mouse, opening one window after another. “Just some glitch in the software. Something's got into Image-Ination, I think. I'm dealing with it.”

“I thought we were properly firewalled,” says Miss Bellini sternly.

Lyssa shrugs. “Well, they get cleverer all the time.”

“Okay, here we are. Sorted.” Ollie has brought up some information on the screen. Looks like a restricted-access website. I don't know how he did it, but I'm impressed. “There we go,” he says. “The new centralized power grid for the whole of the Southern Central England region . . . switches online at midnight . . .
Tonight!
Wow. Miranda, you're right.”

I try not to look smug. “Don't sound so surprised. There was a mention in the paper the other day. I just put two and two together. So, it takes over the power grid . . . what does that mean?”

Ollie looks up. “Well, the power station's been built. It's all automated and it's ready to go online. When it does, thousands of millions of computerized electrical circuits will be focused on one central register, and the energy will spike. All the power will flow from there, probably in a web formation.”

“And our friend,” murmurs Josh, “will be the spider.”

Cal has been standing on the other side of the room, strangely silent through all this. But now her eyes are glistening. “So we have to stop it,” she says. “Her. Whatever. We need to get there now.” She looks at Miss Bellini. “Miss?”

I still don't know what shady connections with the authorities Miss Bellini has, but she seems to be able to pull strings when she wants to. We're not an official organization, though — the government doesn't even like to admit we exist, from what she's told me. So maybe it's all done discreetly, in brown envelopes on street corners. Or perhaps she's got incriminating stuff on a minister or two. I think it's best for us not to ask, frankly.

Miss Bellini looks up and smiles. “I'll get the necessary . . . procedures taken care of,” she says.

The VW camper van is parked at the entrance. We are ascending the steps, spread out in a line with Miss Bellini leading.

We were all up for getting here earlier, but Miss Bellini had to get the place cleared of staff and have our entry authorized.

The main part of the building looks like a huge steel drum, the size of a soccer stadium, gleaming in the moonlight. There are chimneys stretching up, like giant guards, and at the front there's a jumble of steel and glass admin blocks that look as if they've been stuck on at random, with a wide flight of stone steps leading up to the glass entrance doors.

I feel important, but also frightened. I've got a denim satchel over my shoulder, shoved full of a few odds and ends I picked up from HQ — you never know when they're going to come in useful. I've been trying to suppress the thudding in my head and ignore the odd noises and shadows around me. I'm not sure I'm succeeding.

“Where are the staff?” I ask, puzzled by the darkness of the place and the empty parking lot below us.

“The staff have gone off for some very convenient fire-safety training.” She gestures through the glass doors as they swish open for us. “So we've got just one security guy, and one big computer network.”