Текст книги "And All the Stars "

Автор книги: Andrea Höst

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Chapter Twenty-One

"I don't believe you."

Hoarse, whispered protest, but Madeleine had to grab the nearby counter to keep herself upright. Because the expression was his. The way he held himself. She'd known on some level even before he spoke. This was the person who had watched her paint. The person she had danced with. The one who had held her, kissed her, become a new sun in her sky.

"It doesn't make sense. You helped us hide! You...ever since the stair? But why?"

"Initially my role was forward scout," the Moth who was not Fisher said. "To locate Blues sufficiently stained for the Five's purposes. And, if possible, assemble Blues for the initial dispersal. That practically arranged itself. You, of course, I had marked for the Core." Still watching her in the glass, a reflected boy with a steady gaze. "I don't know if it was due to your sheer strength, or your initial contact with the Spire, but you were able to instinctively defend yourself, and injured the Core badly. My orders changed: to keep you within reach until the Core was able to claim you."

"They knew where we were the whole time?" All that hiding, a futile game?

He nodded. "What better way to stop you running than to let you think yourself hidden? The North Building would likely not have remained unoccupied without orders to stay away. Unfortunately your existence was known to the other clans: that Rover's attack was almost certainly an embedded command. And then the challenge, which made it necessary to properly hide you."

Effortless manipulation. Tiny touches, never pushing. Supporting decisions to stay, to fight. Playing Musketeer while searching out holes in her defences, gaining her trust. Throat tight, muscles rigidly locked, Madeleine faced all which had been said and done between them. She could barely force the question through her lips.

"It was all an act?"

"No."

Those reflected eyes were fierce, his mouth a set line, firm and absolute. Then he looked away, drawing in a deep breath.

"There's a great deal I can't discuss. Most outside the Fives are barred from speaking at all to the Untaken. I have minor exemptions, but critical subjects can't even be broached, and I've lost some of the leeway I had. Do you remember what I said, the first time we spoke?

A boy with a head injury, newly possessed, glaring at the Spire with concentrated hatred. All this useless death. Don't you want to tear that down and stamp on the pieces?

"That was true? But...why? You still – you told them where we were, didn't you? Unlocked the elevator."

"You've never met a hierarchy like the En-Mott," he said, then winced, as if something had poked him. "I can't explain in any detail. I can't directly act. I've done all I can to...to line up dominos. Time, place, opportunity. The pieces of information you need." He frowned at the window. "Let me get these threats out of the way. You understand what the Core intends to do to you?"

"Take me over slowly, instead of all at once."

"Your strength makes that a dangerous process. You cannot be kept permanently asleep – it requires a conscious mind. Each time, you need to be made safe to approach, prevented from attacking. You might choose to harm yourself. You might even manage to escape. And if you do any of those things, the Core will hunt down your parents." At her sharp look he shook his head. "He does not have them yet, though the Press very helpfully traced them to Bathurst. Tell them to move, the first chance you have."

What was he suggesting? Did he intend to help her escape? Madeleine stared, but he was no longer looking at her reflection, was gazing down toward Hyde Park. She didn't know how to feel. It would be stupid to trust someone who had lied to her from the day they'd met. There was no way to simply step back into absolute certainty. But something about the way he held himself, shoulders tight as if braced for a blow...

"Do you have a name?"

His eyes came back to her reflection with a jerk. Startled. Had he expected her to keep calling him Fisher? Then, a thin, wobbling note, a sound she would struggle to describe, and certainly couldn't reproduce. The name of a Moth.

"Call me Théoden," he said, with a shrug. "He was only possessed in the movie, but it seems appropriate enough."

After a blank moment she realised he was talking about a character from The Lord of the Rings. A fictional name, to emphasise the falsity of the person she had known, telling her Fisher's hopes and dreams while carrying out the Core's orders. And behind it, an agenda of his own. She had been utterly taken in, never for a moment suspecting.

"You act very–" She stopped, finding herself stupidly embarrassed. "Nash and Pan, the others. No-one from the school noticed any difference?"

"Why would they?" Her question had conjured the ghost of a smile. "I'm not sitting in a little control room in Fisher's head pulling levers. He is...a layer of knowledge and reaction, a filter through which I experience this world. Of course I would act human."

His reflected gaze was unwavering, saying things words did not. Madeleine wanted to look away, to deny any kind of response, but she could not. Everything about this was wrong, based on five kinds of lie, and still her heart raced looking into his eyes. This was a person who had connected with her on a level no-one else had, and the air between them thrummed.

Beyond Théoden, a ribbon of light curled across the sky. He looked away from her reflection to watch it twine once around the Spire, then dive and disappear.

"Time to start," he said, in a voice which sounded short of breath. He stood, and Madeleine was unable to stop herself from taking a step back, but if Théoden noticed he gave no sign. "Go to this point on the floor below."

Madeleine hesitated, then obeyed, perhaps because he was walking toward her and she was not sure if she could deal with him any closer. Her mind raced as she headed down the stair, keeping well ahead while she tried to guess his plans. When she reached the window there was no sign of movement in the park below, and so she watched the reflection of a boy walking up behind her, stopping perhaps two metres away.

"Is it time for another of the challenges?" she asked, mouth dry.

"Buenos Aires. The Core and two others of the Five will be gone till dawn. Think about how Nash survives."

She frowned at this apparent non sequitur, and behind her the boy who was not Fisher held out a hand as if to brush fingers against the back of her neck. He'd stopped too far away to make this possible, but the angle of reflection made it seem that they'd touched. She could not begin to describe his expression.

I'm going to push," he said, barely audible. "You will react. But I am glad, Madeleine. Thank you for the courage to do this."

Turning sharply, Madeleine drew breath to speak, and let it out in a gasp as a hammer-blow of emotion struck her. Grim determination. Fear. Fury. And wound through it all a fine, cutting thread of concern.

"S-stop!" This was not like the Core's assault. She was not drunk, defenceless. The storm of identity collided with roiling strength, and it took everything Madeleine had to hold back an automatic blow. "Th–!"

He struck again, intensifying the assault, and the roil of power Madeleine contained hit back. Not tangled with a shield, as had happened on the beach, but a blast of pure will, of self, and it was like a starburst, a sudden blooming of white and blue, and for a moment before her stood a boy, and above him a Moth.

Then the light went out of them both, and they crumpled to the floor.

"Stop," Madeleine repeated, and dropped to her knees.

Fisher lay on his back, eyes open, blank. The Moth – Théoden – was just behind him, a crumpled kite. She'd killed them both.

The tower was silent. Neither Moth nor boy moved. Madeleine knelt, at a complete loss, unable to understand why Théoden would tell her to think of Nash, then–

Groaning, she scrambled forward on hands and knees. When a Moth left a Blue, the Blue died. There'd been no stories of a Blue living through the end of possession. But when had any Moth tried to revive one? CPR was an obvious thing to attempt, but Madeleine had a better example. A leech Blue, needing a daily dose of energy to survive. Théoden had all but drawn a map.

How much? A thread? A jolt? Surely not the crushing blow which had struck them down. She pressed her hands together on his chest, and measured out a dose of desperation and panic, channelling it into him, the whole of his body shifting in response, as if he were a balloon inflating.

Lifting her hands, Madeleine scanned him anxiously for any sign of change. His eyes had shut, but he was so still. Should she try again, flood him with energy, or shift to CPR? But then his head turned, just a little, and his eyelids cracked. His chest rose as he drew in a slow breath, life returning as gently as waking.

Madeleine drew back, suddenly unable to touch this boy she had undressed, this stranger she had kissed so thoroughly. She looked instead at the crumpled creature behind him. A flattened paper lantern.

Easing over to kneel beside that alien shape, Madeleine studied the network of fading blue lines which suggested an almost humanoid figure. But it was a pattern on a kite, no true body. No eyes, no limbs, no heart. She held out her hands anyway, placed them over a central point. Her palm sank into a chill surface, and she drew it back. Then, trying to keep to the very surface, Madeleine sent out a measure of confusion and regret. With it came gratitude, and a deep note of stronger emotion. Briefly the blue lines took on a brighter hue, which almost immediately faded.

Tears wouldn't come. The need for them was a tight pressure in her head, her chest, but Madeleine was at the bottom of a well, and everything was distant. To her right Fisher lifted a hand, turned it to study the palm, opened and closed it.

"What did you do with that food?" he asked, still lying on his back.

"...second floor freezer."

The words came out tiny, squeezed past the lump in her throat, but he seemed to have managed to hear her, sitting up, then standing in a single, fluid motion. He didn't turn, paused only a moment to stare out at the Spire, then circled left along the outer wall of windows.

Everything inside Madeleine had snarled into a tight, vicious-edged lump, knotted beyond untangling. She watched the colour fade out of Théoden until, after what was probably a long time, or moments, Fisher returned. He stood very still, looking at the creature which had stolen his body then given it back.

Without comment he moved to Madeleine and held down to her a plate. Once-frozen chocolate cake, microwaved until the icing had melted and run. She had never felt less inclined to eat, barely turning her head enough to see what it was. Fisher hesitated, then took the plate over to the window, set it on the sill, and sat beside it.

"I know this is extremely hard for you..." he began, then stopped. Long seconds ticked by, and when he spoke again his voice was halting. "I have no idea how to feel about you. There is...I have a great deal of emotion for you, but I don't know how much of it is mine. I suppose you – I – " He paused again, then changed tacks completely, becoming crisp and businesslike: "In around five hours the Core will return. There's a great deal to do before that. Although it's possible for me to manage it without you, the chances of success are much lower."

It made it easier to have him focus on the larger issues, to not go anywhere near how either of them might feel. And through the barbed wire wasteland which filled her, Madeleine had discovered a direction.

"I could do that for Noi, and the others, couldn't I?"

"Yes." His relief at her response was obvious. "In fact Noi is the crux of the plan, since she's been taken by one of the Five."

"Does this plan include some way to get out of this tower?"

"We jump off."

That was enough to make her turn to him, and she suspected it had been intended to. He was frowning at her, that angry expression she'd learned could mean whole layers of emotion. As soon as she let herself see him, this tall, skinny, very smart boy she'd found herself adoring, her wire-wrapped heart thumped and bled and she had to drop her eyes. She couldn't do it, couldn't face how much he remembered, how he felt, dared not let herself study him for differences, similarities. She would not look again.

"Tell me what to do."

ooOoo

Circling the upper turret of Sydney Tower was a walkway which led to two glass-bottomed platforms projecting over the edge of the main floors. The Skywalk. Madeleine and Fisher stood on the platform facing south-east, a light breeze exploring the vulnerabilities of their jackets.

"That hotel," Fisher said, pointing left and almost directly below. It sat on Elizabeth Street: two sets of terraced balconies joined by a rectangular main building, all with an uninterrupted view to Hyde Park and the Spire. An immense distance down. "Noi is in the section on our right. We'll be going in through an access door from the roof. Aim for the left of the central building, beside that pool. The shape you practiced should give good control of speed and direction, but if you miss, head to ground level and meet me at the corner of Market and Elizabeth."

Even in her bruised and locked-down state, Madeleine could not simply jump off a building. Clutching the straps of her backpack, she peered at the array of roofs doubtfully.

"I'll be going first." Fisher bent to study the beams below the glass floor. "Looks like this will be structurally sound without the railing, but stand back while I make a gap."

"I'll do it."

Fisher hesitated, then moved away, silently acknowledging the power differential between them. He would need to save his strength.

The vertical sections of metal railing were thick and solid, but a couple of well-aimed finger punches easily took care of the narrow horizontal bar joining them. A tiny piece of metal remained connecting the bar, and bent easily as she pulled it inward. Then, stepping to one side, she held her arm over the railing and punched the clear main panel inward.

"Practice again," Fisher said, still maintaining the crisp, businesslike tone which made it bearable to be near him. "Get a feel for it at full size."

On another day, even with the two upright posts to hold, standing on the edge of such a drop would have had Madeleine gulping, trying to convince herself the floor wasn't tilting. But this night, in sight of the Spire, she was only allowing herself to think of her friends, of Noi down there needing rescue. And of carrying out the plan Théoden had died to set in motion.

Narrowing her eyes, she raised a shield a few metres in front of her, then began to thin and shape it, so it became a massive curve facing away from her, hopefully matching the form Fisher claimed would help her control direction. It was difficult to be sure: she had never tried anything like this with her shields, and its near-invisibility made the process a kind of mental sculpture, theoretically producing a combination between a sled and an oversized paraglider. The wind tugged at her, the tiny gust suddenly immensely powerful, so she hastily released the shield and moved back.

"Okay," she said.

"Because of the size, your descent should be slow, allowing you time to experiment with steering. It can be more responsive than a parachute, given you'll be on top, and can alter it at will. Do you think you can change the shape quickly?"

"Maybe." This still involved jumping off a building.

"If you find this too difficult to control, try shifting to the more triangular glider shape I showed you. Even if you panic and let the shield drop, just make another, as large as possible as fast as you can. It doesn't need to be complex – anything large will give you the drag to slow down." He paused. "If you can't do it, signal once I've landed, and I'll get the lift key and come for you."

She almost looked at him, then made the tiniest negative motion with her head. "I can manage."

"I'll see you down there, then," he said, voice momentarily flattening. He stepped into the gap, holding the upright supports tightly. Wind ruffled his mop of hair, and with barely a pause he tipped forward, and vanished.

Catching her breath, Madeleine clutched the railing, and in the night-time shadows spotted him only because he was falling, slowing as she watched. He must not have spread the shield till he was well on his way. Conserving his strength. He curved toward the hotel, the movement controlled, effortless. She lost sight of him in the gloom as he circled, then saw a tiny shape pass over the lighted rectangle of the rooftop pool.

Seeing how quickly and easily Fisher had managed somehow made it worse for Madeleine. There was no way she could swoop down like that. Jump off a building and work out how to fly, all in an easy two-step process? Maintain a shaped shield while falling? No matter how strong she was, that was beyond any reasonable learning curve. She'd end up slamming into the support shaft of Sydney Tower, or zooming off toward the Spire. Or dropping like a stone.

Her hands on the cold railing felt slick and damp, and she shivered in the late autumn chill. Impossible. Beyond impossible.

Noi. She repeated the name out loud. Noi down there, possessed by one of the Five. The need to bring her back was a rock-hard certainty, a promise never quite spoken. Noi, and Emily, Min, Nash, Pan. Lee Rickard would certainly have something to say about being able to fly beneath the stars.

She raised her shield, working quickly, having learned the power of even a tiny wind. The possibility of being dragged off her feet helped, because it meant she could not keep standing there, clutching the railing uprights.

"Straight on till morning," she breathed, and tilted forward.

Chapter Twenty-Two

There was no plunge. Madeleine glided with soap bubble ease, the sensation almost that of sliding over ice, the shield beneath her far more responsive than she'd anticipated. She shifted it a degree, as easily as moving a mental arm, and the glide became a leisurely swoop toward Central Station.

Glorious!

Unhurriedly, for she was still very high, Madeleine attempted to follow Fisher's instructions, and made a minor adjustment to the shape, a curling of one corner, taking care to keep her changes small. She curved to the left, circling over the Anzac Memorial at the southern end of Hyde Park, and drifted back. The hotel was a good place to aim for, with its distinctive terraces and long upper roof. Still too far below to hope to land, but if she went south again and lined herself up as if for a runway, she would have plenty of opportunity to correct her height, and face far less risk of overshooting.

The city spun below her, reduced to blockish shapes and streaking lights. The Spire was a slim shadow ahead to her right, Sydney Tower a shorter rival to the left. Blobbish lumps below were all she could make out of Hyde Park's trees, which were far too low to pose any danger of collision, and provided a simple line to use as a guide. The hotel's long roof was not entirely flat, had some kind of air-conditioning plant on top, but that was long and flat as well, and she dropped to a mere leg-breaking distance as the near edge of the long centre building approached. Passing above four large fans, she lifted a little to barely clear a white circular projection, then swooped down the last few feet to the surface of the roof, contracting her shield so that her landing was a little fast, but obligingly bouncy.

Done. Face-down on concrete, arms spread wide, safe. She rolled onto her back and stared up at a foreshortened view of two towers. Had he known how that flight would make her feel? Lined up this domino, knowing she would desperately need to be uplifted? It had helped, so much. Théoden, all that she felt, was still a roil of confusion and grief, but the barbed wire had rusted through. It was gratitude which blurred the stars.

The recollection that she was lying on the roof of a hotel full of possessed Blues prodded her to movement. She scrambled to her feet and padded softly to the north end of the section of roof. The curve of the pool room roof was a lighted jewel below, and Fisher waited just before it, a so-familiar silhouette. Kneeling, she reversed, dangled and dropped down off the plant level, noticing deep scrapes in the concrete as she let go. The Core must land his dragon up there.

Another drop and she was beside the pool, Fisher turning as if to take her arm, then stopping short. But Madeleine had found the strength to keep herself focused on her goals, and was not thrown by the near touch.

"Were there cameras monitoring me?" she whispered. "Will the Moths know what's happened?"

"There were cameras, just not enough. They can't see the place where Théoden is, and will only know that you have gone up on the roof with what they will think is him. They can tell a possessed Blue from a non-possessed, but not through a camera image."

"So they'll know right away when they see you?"

"Yes. Every Blue we encounter, you will need to spirit punch immediately. Most of the Moths will die." The clipped tone wavered for a moment, then resumed. "If there's multiple Moths, I'll try to revive the fallen Blues while you fight, and it will be easier as we progress because our numbers will grow. However, the strongest Moths, particularly the Five, can survive separation from the host. That's why, before we go for Noi, we need Nash."

"To drain, like he did the Rover." Some of what needed to be done was obvious. Dominos, falling into place.

"Nash won't be possessed – he's being held for much the same reason you were. Any Greens will need to be shield-paralysed and locked up. Ideally, we want to collect Nash and free Noi as quickly and quietly as possible. If an alarm is raised – well, that will involve running, and passing on the information we have before the united strength of the En-Mott clans descends on us."

He led her to an access door and eased it open. Glancing down as they stepped inside, Madeleine saw that folded paper had been wadded into the gap in the jamb. Another domino. How had Théoden felt, this last day, putting in place all the things which needed to happen after she killed him?

Madeleine took deep, calming breaths, trying to prepare herself. Going into battle, a thing which she'd technically accepted back when the Musketeers had been practicing combat, now meant facing the probability of killing another Moth like Théoden. There was no way of knowing.

But she would do it. The consequences of hesitating were too large.

ooOoo

The next domino had been a card key, tucked behind a picture frame in the first hallway.

"The elevators are monitored," Fisher said as he collected it. "The cameras are in the far right corners. Put your hood up and look down and to your left as we walk in, then turn and straighten. There should be no problem with anyone seeing me on camera – perhaps a little heightened attention, but not the full alert you would inspire. The security room is on the same level as Nash, so we'll take it out first. It's usually manned by Greens, so in this case I'll shield-stun first, and you spirit punch anyone who doesn't fall down. Ready?"

Madeleine tugged her hood well forward. "Is it only Noi and Nash in this building? Do you know where the others are?"

"Min and Pan will be here. Emily is part of the sub-group led by another of the Five, based in the hotel next to this one."

"Okay."

The clarity of Fisher's knowledge made it obvious he remembered every detail of the time he was possessed, and she could not let herself think about that too much, could not spend time going over all the things she'd said and done. But it was no easier to think of killing people. Glad of the shadow of her hood, she followed him to an elevator, and did her best to move casually, bending her head as if she was glancing at Fisher's shoes, turning unhurriedly.

They travelled more than a dozen floors down, and strode with casual confidence to knock on and open a door, quite as if they belonged. The room beyond was lit by a grid of screens, images of corridors, rooms, the hotel entrance. Heart thumping triple time, Madeleine barely saw the people sitting before them, dark shapes turning, one getting to her feet. Fisher was quick, all three of the figures jolting from a blow, but the one standing was still moving, the tiniest fragment of Moth song lifting, and Madeleine punched, panicked by the idea of dozens of possessed people running in response to an alarm. In the compact room, the sudden bloom of Moth above Blue seemed blinding, the alien too close, giant.

Then it fell, becoming Madeleine's second kill that night, and she recognised with sick certainty that she would keep a count, and remember it always. But the Blue, a woman, had dropped back on the chair, limp and wrong, and Madeleine had to make certain that the count didn't jump immediately to three. Rushing forward, she pressed hands above heart and pushed out a frightened little spurt of worry.

"Good." Fisher sounded as breathless as she felt, but he was already moving, turning on the room's light and closing the door. "I'm going to grab gear to tie them up," he said, bending over the two Greens and searching pockets, removing mobile phones. "Paralyse them again if they begin to revive before I'm back. Is she breathing?"

"Yes." The woman had blinked, and tears were now welling in brown eyes. Behind her, the limp corpse of the Moth slid off the room's wrap-around counter to take up too much space on the floor.

"I won't be long," Fisher said, dragging one of the Greens into the corner furthest from any buttons. "Check the monitors for an indication of how many Moths are active."

He pulled the second Green across to the first, gave her a quick, sharp glance which she caught out of the corner of her eye, and then left. Madeleine turned to watch him stride into one of the elevators on screen and stand, hands in pockets, head bowed. Tense, strained, and already looking tired. They'd only just started. How could they possibly prepare for the Core's return in a scant few hours?

"Thank you. So much."

The Blue she'd freed reached out deeply stained hands, only occasional patches of brown visible. When Madeleine offered hers in automatic response, the woman gripped and squeezed them painfully tight, then let go and began to explore her own face.

"I can't hardly believe..." She swept her hands slowly over softly curling hair, squeezed shut her eyes, causing tears to break loose from lashes. "Me again. At last."

"Welcome back..." Madeleine said uncertainly.

"Sarah," the woman said, making the name a release, a triumph. "Sarah Jeteneru."

"I'm –"

The woman widened her eyes, a momentary laughing expression. "You're Madeleine Cost. Do you think there's any of us in this city who doesn't know the Core's great prize? And, oh, he's reached too far, hasn't he? You're here to bring him down."

"We're here to try," Madeleine said, startled and impressed by the woman's rapid shift toward self-command. She surveyed the wall of monitors, wondering how many Moths were in the hotel. A central screen was flicking between images, and Madeleine caught her breath, staring at a person sitting cross-legged on a bed.

The picture changed to Nash, standing at a window, but a furtive sound demanded Madeleine's attention, and she turned to find one of the stunned Greens trying to overcome post-paralysis pins and needles and get to the door. By the time the Green had been stunned and stashed back with his companion, Fisher had arrived, wearing a backpack and hauling heavily loaded Eco-shopping bags.

"Eat," he recommended, putting down four bags brimming with blocks of chocolate, boxes of muesli bars, bags of dried fruit. He slid his backpack to the ground, produced a mobile phone which he passed to her, then pulled out a large roll of duct tape, turning purposefully to the Greens.

"This is Sarah," Madeleine said, opting to stock her backpack first. She refused to contemplate crumb trays ever again.

"Fisher," he said, with a preoccupied nod. "How many people are up and about in the hotel?"

"Up, quite a number, watching the Buenos Aires Challenge." Sarah glanced toward a laptop, where images of an arena were being streamed, then pulled a keyboard into reach and tapped out commands. "Most in their rooms, but there's a cluster in a guest lounge, and another group in with the North."

"The North?" Madeleine asked.

"One of the Five. There's no English word – no Earth word – which fits what they call the four who support the Core, so they use North, South, East and West. The four quarters. The South and the North are watching together," she added to Fisher, who paused, frowning, then briskly resumed his taping efforts.

"We'll need greater numbers before we go up, then," he said. "But first the leech Blues. Any obstacles?"

"One guard, at the beginning of their corridor," Sarah said, and when the Greens were thoroughly wrapped led Madeleine and Fisher directly to a row of rooms which had been roughly reinforced with the kind of security screens usually seen on the front doors of houses. The first in the row, by contrast, had had its door removed, making it difficult to get past unseen, so Madeleine simply ran straight into the open room, the man inside not even facing her when she spirit punched. Too easy, but already she was feeling a pinch of strain.

"I'm not sure how many of these I can do in a row," she said, as she knelt over the fallen Blue. "I'll be okay for a handful more, but..."

"No, you need to rest for when we go for Noi. With this third freed Blue, we can safely take all but the strongest without you, and punching duty can pass on to each new Blue to limit exhaustion."

"Have you posted how to free people?" Sarah asked from the door. "We need to get something out there, tell the world how to do this."