Part 23 (1/2)

I don't blame her for crying. I am too, inside. *He's serious, Pip! Just do what he says!'

*Do what?'

*You know!' she screams in panic as her father presses the gun harder against her skull. *Do that thing. The power. The black feathers. I had to tell him about it, I had to.'

Black feathers sprouting as I chased Steen Verdessica's plane out of the sky and into the Mora.s.s. Black feathers flying as I caught a Storm so Petra and Lida would be safe. A black feather circling as Haze leans over a bowl of water in the bath-house, chanting . . .

Black Night's daughter Bright White's kin Let the lights go out a”

Let the Witch come in!

*You want a witch?' I growl at Uncle Mentira and all the stone-faced Scrutiners. *All right. Fine. I'll show you a witch!'

Lights explode. Darkness rushes in to fill the void. In my mind I'm a thousand klicks away, walking on a leaf-strewn path. My hands brush silver-bark branches and send up clouds of spores. In the real world I find I'm running my fingers along the white walls of the laboratory, looking for something I can gouge my nails into, anything alive I can tear or pull apart. Nothing. The walls and floor are opaque gla.s.s a” burned sand that was once stone. My feet are heavy, trailing their bane-metal chains. It's a prison. I'm trapped.

The adults are useless in the dark. Even Zoya's night-vision won't help her in a room with no light at all. She's huddled up against her papi, blind eyes darting all around.

*Pip!'

Don't Pip me. I'm not that kid, not that tiddler.

Why's Zoya got her arm up? What's she pointing at? The door?

I sweep round the walls again and feel a sliver of free air. Zoya left the door open a crack! I seize it with both hands and pull it out of the wall, just as I did with Steen's prison door. This time I'm not breaking in, I'm breaking out. Out in the corridor the building is made of bioweave as normal. I dig my nails in and start to run, pad pad pad like a wolf, unpeeling the walls as I go. Soon I'm trailing a tumbling ma.s.s of grey.

Scrutiners spring out at me. I wrap them in the walls. A wormling of doubt wiggles into my mind. Have I gone too far? Is it too late for me to creep back inside the sh.e.l.l of my borrowed body and slink around pretending to be normal somehow? Don't know. This defiance is uncharted territory. Off the map. Off the path.

Don't step off the path.

Forget the path. What did Reef say? Become lost.

Lost? I'm losing everything I ever cared about with every moment that pa.s.ses a” family, friends, Reef . . . If I let the monster out will I lose myself or become myself?

The corvil struggles from my jacket pocket and climbs to my shoulder. It sounds a single caa that seems to echo for ever. I spread my arms like wings. My fingers seem to stretch along the bioweave up to the roof and down to the foundations, stopping only where they find cold gla.s.s. When I flex, the walls shred, exposing a giant hub of labs and computing rooms, floor after floor of cubicles and corridors, filled with scientists and secretaries fumbling for emergency lights. There is no heart to this place, only thousands of nerve centres creating the brain that is Aura. It's not alive. It's not interested in life . . . and yet it wants to survive. It wants me to protect it. It wants me to be a good girl by going bad.

A little sound catches my consciousness in the middle of all other noises jostling for my attention. It's the fainter-than-faint sound of hair strands brus.h.i.+ng against each other. There's a click. A lighter-box sparks. A flame jumps out.

Uncle Mentira is behind me in the corridor. In his right hand he holds a lighter-box, flicking the catch so it clicks and ignites again. His left hand is closed around something secret. He opens his palm. The breeze from the torn walls wafts over a set of fine black hairs.

My hair.

I know who brought him that. My navigator. My cousin. My friend.

*Your hair's a complete mess . . . Hand your hairbrush over,' Zoya said.

Click.

Uncle Mentira lights the flame and holds it towards one single strand of hair.

Agony One word a” five letters a” an infinity of klicks beyond the actual sensation of pain I feel as the fire touches the strand of hair.

I burn!

Not for real a” not with normal flames that can be doused by water or smothered in sand. This fire is like having melted sun poured into my soul. If I scream it's not with any normal voice but from somewhere deep and primitive. A well of rage finds expression in this scream. I cannot move. Cannot bear the pain. Cannot live a moment longer with such torture.

Snuff.

The fire goes out. The burned hair curls. The smell is vile. I collapse on the corridor floor. My lungs find air. My mouth finds words.

*Make a” it a” stop!'

*It will stop as soon as you see reason and follow orders.'

*Going a” to a” Sea-Ways . . .'

Click. The lighter-box burns again. Uncle Mentira holds the hair strand close. I see the flame reach up greedily a” see every hue of orange, white and blue. Again a” the pain! Again I scream for help. Again he blows the fire out. I try to rise.

My lips are cracked. I can only manage to mouth, *Sea-Ways . . .'

Click.

No no no not again can't bear the pain can't stand the flames make it stop make it stop make it . . .

. . . stop.

On my shoulder Eye Bright has spread its feathers and launched into the air. It flies for the first time, straight at Uncle Mentira, beak stabbing and wings thras.h.i.+ng. Its claws grab the hair and the lighter-box. At the same time Zoya hurls herself through the darkness into her father, pus.h.i.+ng him over.

*Run, Pip, run!'

In these chains? I lumber over to the ripped wall and look down. Why run when I can fly, or jump at least, grasping bioweave so the walls unravel as I fall. I feel beautiful black feathers float around me, so soft I could lie in them for ever. When I look up, a line of Scrutiners are peering down, blind eyes roving. Zoya's there too, with the corvil circling round her head.

*I didn't know . . .' she calls down.

I flounder out of the feathers and start tugging at the chains. It's killing me to wear them.

*Didn't know what? That bane-metal would bind me? That burning witch hair is a weapon?'

*I didn't know it would hurt so much. I didn't want to spy on you. I got ac-reqs. I had to do what Aura says, everybody does.'

I don't want to hear any more reasons or excuses. *I'm going.'

*Where?'

*Where do you think? Back to the squadron.'

*What will everyone say?'

*Will you listen to yourself? Do you think you can spend your entire life worrying about what other people will think or say? Forget Aura, forget your father, do what you think is right!'

To Zoya's credit she only hesitates a moment then she says, *I'm going to jump. Catch me!'