Since arriving in this world, I’ve experienced more physical pain than I thought possible. I’ve been kicked, shoved, pulled, strung up, not to mention the indescribable ache of Baba’s palms resting on my temples. But it feels so insignificant when compared to the pain of losing Nate.
Whereas physical pain brought my body into focus – filled me up, made me swell, turned me into something bigger – loss does the exact opposite. It scrunches me into a ball, folds me in half, scoops me out until I’m not sure I exist – the world around me becomes a carbon copy. Or maybe I’m the copy. I can’t tell any more.
I don’t know how long I sit in the back of the Humvee, lurching from side to side. Eyes parched, brain numb, just clutching at Nate’s lifeless body. The flatline still rings in my head, and I pray and pray and pray that this is just a dream, just a horrible, twisted dream. That when I wake up, Nate will be smiling and laughing and telling me some random shit in his Sheldon Cooper voice.
I barely notice when we draw to a halt outside the church.
Matthew holds my eye. ‘Dead?’
Such a small word, yet so hard, so final.
I nod.
‘I’m sorry.’ He pauses. ‘The sky’s empty.’
I know he means of Gem helicopters, but I can’t help thinking of the stars.
‘There’s no time to lick our wounds,’ Saskia says. ‘We need to torch the church and then escape over the river.’
No-man’s-land. They’ve had the same idea as us – hardly surprising.
Matthew jumps from the Humvee. ‘Wait here.’
‘But I need to get Katie,’ I say.
He looks at Nate and his eyes well with tears. ‘Quickly though.’ He lifts Nate from my lap. ‘We can leave him in the church. He’ll get a true hero’s funeral.’
I nod, too numb to argue. I need to focus on the living, on Katie and Ash. I’m not sure I even care about completing the canon any more. Home isn’t home without Nate. I slide from the Humvee, my legs only just carrying my weight, soaked in blood and weakened from fatigue.
I follow Matthew to the church, Ash’s arm wrapped firmly around my waist. I can’t help but watch Nate’s feet undulating to the rhythm of Matthew’s stride. Up, down, up, down. I remember him much younger, soaring back and forth on a swing, kicking up the spray at the seaside, dancing in my bedroom to Abba. That black hole returns, sucking me empty.
The church looks as if a swarm of locusts has passed through it. Everything, bar a series of boxes, has gone. Nearly all of the rebels were arrested at the Coliseum, and the night lights have long since been extinguished; only a few remaining candles offer pouches of light. I see Thorn, leaning against the altar, his head battered and covered in blood, his hands holding a small black box.
Saskia sees him and stops. ‘Thorn, you’re alive.’
He looks up, his eyepatch gone, the full force of his beauty uncovered. His gaze falls on me, red capillaries spider-webbing across the whites of his eyes. ‘You did this, Little Flower.’
His words barely touch me.
Matthew lays Nate down on the pew at the front of the church. The one where he slept only hours ago. I bend over his lifeless body, brushing the hair from his face, kissing his cheek. It still feels a little warm. I pull the green blanket over his legs, telling myself he’ll wake up soon.
‘How did the Gems know about the raid?’ Thorn says.
‘Leave it, Thorn,’ Saskia says softly. She hands me a piece of moist cloth, and I begin to wipe the dirt and blood from Nate’s face. He looks so young again, his face no longer capable of holding any pain. A sob lodges in my throat. Ash rests a tender hand on my shoulder, and without thinking, I plant a kiss on his knuckles.
‘The raid, Little Flower. How did they know about the raid?’ Thorn persists.
But it’s like he’s talking behind glass. I don’t care if he thinks I’m a traitor. What could he possibly do to hurt me more than this? Tenderly, I arrange Nate’s arms so they cross his heart. I lean in close. ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper. ‘I’m so sorry, Jonathan.’ I hear myself begin to cry, and I bury my head in his narrow chest, willing him to comfort me.
I sense Thorn standing behind me. ‘You betrayed us, and now your brother is dead. It is a fitting punishment, I think.’
I turn my head and glare at him. ‘You never did deserve to be his hero. You can go to hell.’
‘First you’ve got to kill me.’
All the fury, all the injustice, bursts inside me. I look at his perfect Gem face and I suddenly get this overwhelming desire to hurt him, to kill him. I run at him, kicking and spitting. ‘I hate you,’ I scream, ‘I hate you.’ I scream it to all the Gems, to the universe which holds us captive and stole my little brother.
Thorn lifts me from the ground and carries me from the church. I thrash and twist, but it’s no use. Ash tries to help, but Thorn bats him away like a fly. Saskia and Matthew follow, concern gripping their features.
‘No,’ I cry. ‘Let me say goodbye. Please. I just want to say goodbye.’
Thorn laughs. ‘Well, now you can say goodbye to your little friend, Katherine.’
‘No, not Katie too. You wouldn’t kill Katie.’
He carries me towards the Humvee. ‘You can watch her burn. Along with all the rebel intel, years of work. It’s all got to burn.’
And I realize Thorn’s hate – for me, for the Gems – now overpowers his love for Ruth. What started as something beautiful has grown and morphed into something ugly. A black, jagged mess of revenge and hate. We were so naive, so foolish, to think that his feelings for Ruth would offer some sort of protection to Katie. I get this ringing in my ears as I realize I’m about to lose Katie too.
Thorn throws me to the floor and stamps a foot into my stomach, pinning me to the ground. Ash jumps on his back, but Thorn seems to just shrug him off. I wriggle and flip like a fish on a bank, but he possesses Gem strength and the boot won’t budge. He jabs the button on that little black box. Two small explosions punch through the drone and shards of glass rain down on the pavement. The church windows begin to glow orange, the eyes of a Halloween pumpkin.
‘No!’ I scream. ‘Not Katie.’ Nate’s dead. Alice has abandoned me. Even worse, betrayed me. The thought of being the only one left from the four of us fills me with such an intense loneliness, I think I may implode. ‘I can’t lose Katie too.’ The tarmac slaps against the backs of my thighs, my shoulder blades, as I continue to struggle against his boot.
‘Do something,’ Ash shouts to Matthew.
‘This ain’t right, Thorn,’ Matthew says.
Saskia runs towards us. ‘You ain’t seriously gonna let her friend fry?’
Thorn pushes his boot down so hard I hear something crack in my chest. ‘They set us up,’ he says.
Of course. He thinks Katie betrayed him too. That’s why he wants her dead.
‘It was Alice.’ My voice starts to fade, robbed of breath and hope. ‘It was Alice who betrayed you . . . Us. I swear it wasn’t Katie.’
‘Nice try. But Alice didn’t know about the raid.’
‘She did. Ask Baba, please, just ask Baba,’ I manage to say.
Thorn laughs. His boot bears down and I hear another crack, feel another round of pain. ‘What, the precog?’ he says. ‘She can see the future, do you really think she’d stick around for our firework display?’
I feel the air flooding my lungs, the release of pressure from my ribs as Thorn lifts his foot, but the relief is short-lived. He pulls me on to my knees, squeezing my cheeks, forcing me to stare at the church. Flames push through the windows, reds and golds lapping skywards, writhing and shifting into ever-changing patterns of shadow and light.
He whispers into my ear. ‘Can you smell it yet, Little Flower? Stick a match to us and we’re all just the same. Gems, Imps, brothers, friends. We all stink like roasted pig and we all turn to dust.’
I feel sick thinking of Nate and Katie, their skin blistering in the heat. The flames climb higher, swallowing the church in reds and golds and smoke. You can’t lose Katie too. Think, Violet, think. I recall that golden pelican, plucking at its sacrificial breast, and the ink from Katie’s letter stirs inside me, those words appearing in my mind’s eye: All the world’s a stage, and all the men and women merely players. And suddenly, I know what role I must play to save her.
‘You’re right.’ My voice gathers its strength from somewhere deep inside. ‘I did betray you. I told the Gems about the raid. I set the ambush in motion.’
‘No,’ Ash shouts. ‘Violet, what are you doing? He’ll kill you.’
I know Ash is right, but I push on regardless. ‘Katie didn’t know anything about it. I never told her because I was worried her allegiances had switched. I was worried she would tell you of my betrayal.’
Thorn begins to laugh, tightening his grip on my face so I can barely breathe, forcing my eyes towards those reds and golds. ‘I knew it was you, Little Flower.’ He yanks at my cheeks so they feel stretched and clawed and hurls me forwards. I headbutt the tarmac. He looks at me for a moment, really looks at me. ‘You thought Katherine had switched allegiances?’
I manage a nod, spitting up something salty and hot. ‘She’s rebel to the core.’
He gazes into the flames for a moment, his face cast in amber, and then whispers something I don’t hear. And suddenly, his legs begin to move with the urgency of a man about to lose everything, pelting his body towards the church. I glance at Ash. I can’t lose Katie too. He must see this in my face, because without a word, he grabs my hand and we follow.
We burst through the wooden doors only moments after Thorn. The smoke hits me first – thick and dense, stinging my eyes and burning the inside of my nose – followed by a strange, pungent odour, like the Imp-bus when it backfires, or Dad’s whisky, stagnant in a crystal glass. Thorn is already just a silhouette, his broad shoulders giving him the appearance of a tombstone rising from the mist.
I tighten my grip on Ash’s hand and we wade through the smoke into the main body of the church. I see the desks and rood screen ripped apart by flames. The golden pelican and the circle of angels brought to their knees. But our path remains miraculously free from flames.
Momentarily, I freeze.
Nate.
The thought of the flames devouring his tiny body threatens to immobilize me completely. But I focus on Katie – her soft Scouse accent, her pea-green eyes – and I hold my breath and force my legs to move, following that tombstone and pulling Ash towards the tower.
I look up the stairs towards Katie’s prison. Thorn already stands at the top, desperately trying to open the door. He sees me and shouts a single, bleak word: ‘Locked.’ He clearly hasn’t got the key.
Tears spring from my eyes, coaxed by hopelessness and particles of smoke. I consider just sinking to the ground and weeping, when a loud noise draws my attention. The door reverberates, bowing towards us, rattling in its frame. I imagine Katie, terrified and trapped, flinging her weight into the wooden panels. Thorn does the same, and for a short while, they’re caught in a strange call and answer song. But the door is sturdy and, without much of a run-up, Thorn’s unable to use his weight to his advantage.
Ash pulls me up the stairs, two at a time. ‘Your knife,’ he screams at Thorn. ‘Give me your knife!’
The panic in Thorn’s face is replaced by suspicion. But Katie still hammers on the door, a sound which reminds him just what’s at stake. He pulls his dagger from his belt and passes it to Ash, handle first.
Quickly, Ash sets about the hinges on the door, using the tip of the knife as a screwdriver and removing the screws.
‘Hurry,’ Thorn shouts.
Ash’s fingers remain nimble and precise, like he’s back at the estate picking apples or shelling peas. In less than a minute, he’s removed all six screws. Together, the three of us manoeuvre the heavy slab of wood, lifting it from its hinges and prising it from its frame. I dash through the opening, nearly bowling Katie over with my embrace, and I take a second to hold her to my body, inhaling the smoke-free air of the sealed ochre room.
‘Violet! Thorn!’ Her tears dampen my neck. ‘You came for me.’
‘We have to go,’ I say.
‘Now,’ Thorn says.
Katie looks at Ash. ‘Who’s this?’
‘There’s no time, Katherine,’ Thorn shouts.
I guess she sees the urgency in his face, because for once she doesn’t argue. We bolt down the stairs, sinking into the choking fog. I didn’t think it possible, but the flames have intensified, transforming the building into a bell jar of smoke. Searing, blistering and unyielding. We fly towards the door, mouths shielded with sleeves, skin aglow and tender with heat. My tongue and throat feel as though the blaze has singed them. I try to hold my breath, but this makes me cough, and the more I cough, the worse it burns, and the harder my lungs seem to suck.
We reach the exit and I take one last glance over my shoulder. Behind the wall of flames lies my little brother.
‘Goodbye,’ I whisper into the fire.
Goodbye, the fire replies.