Shattered by Magic Page 6

  “Stop torturing yourself,” I mutter to myself, shaking my head. I put it back in its spot on the dresser. Thinking that she’d be back any day, I’d originally filled the room with her stuff to give it at least some semblance of a home; I wanted her to feel welcome. Now, sitting on the edge of the bed and staring at the pictures, it just feels all the emptier of her presence. Hopeless. I’ve lost count of the number of times I’ve picked up something of hers just to hold it, breathing in any trace of her, trying to recall the last time I saw her wear a particular scarf or watched her brush her hair.

  I undress for bed and clean my teeth, then lie awake in the darkness for about fifteen minutes, before a light knock on the door sends me back out of bed.

  “Cur, are you asleep?” Jer whispers through the door. I hop out of bed and put the night light on, opening the door for him.

  “Nope. What’s up?” I notice the ball of black fur, with two yellow-green eyes poking out of it, in his arms.

  “You’ve got a visitor.” Jer smiles as the cat leaps out of his grasp and onto my chest.

  “Whoa!” I catch him just as he digs his claws into my bare shoulders. “Hey, buddy. I just got fixed up. David’s going to be mad that you’re undoing all his hard work,” I say, trying to extricate myself from his grip.

  “Better put a shirt on or we’ll have to call the healer back,” Jer jokes, coming into the room and attempting to pull the cat off me.

  “Well, this is a surprise. What did Mum call you again? Oh, right, Algernon,” I say, looking at his collar. I pull on a top and tracksuit bottoms so that I’m not standing around in my underwear and let Algernon climb onto my lap.

  “Why d’you think he turned up like this?” Jer asks, stroking him behind the ears.

  “I dunno. But I hope my parents are okay. This guy tends to show up right before something bad happens,” I say, eyeballing him warily. Algernon looks up at me with narrowed eyes, before resuming his purring. If I didn’t know any better, I’d think he was offended.

  “Have you spoken to them at all?”

  “No, and I don’t think I’m going to any time soon,” I reply morosely. “The last time I saw them, they watched me disappear into thin air with a bunch of Augurs, remember?” The image of their faces as I vanished is imprinted in my mind.

  “Surely, they’d forgive you though. It was, as Banks would call it, an extenuating circumstance.”

  “Mum would forgive me, yes. But Dad? Never. He’s got grudges older than I am against Augurs. He’s a stubborn and single-minded bastard,” I say angrily.

  “Reminds me of someone.” Jer laughs and then gently hits me on the arm. “You’ve got your mum’s ability to forgive and trust and your dad’s persistence, from what I can tell.”

  “Thanks,” I reply sarcastically, but the sentiment isn’t lost on me. Maybe I’m more like them than I realised.

  “What if your Dad found out his sister was alive after all? And that she was an Augur herself? D’you think he’d let it all go?”

  I think about turning up on their doorstep with Tilly. Even if she wasn’t invisible, I don’t know if Dad would believe it; he will never be anything other than his overbearing, miserable self.

  “I doubt it. He’d probably have another heart attack.” I say, not finding my own joke very funny.

  “What do we do with the cat, then? I mean, it must’ve taken him days to get from Northwest London all the way over to this end.”

  “And yet he looks remarkably healthy. Like he just hopped on the tube,” I ponder, giving him another scratch behind the ears.

  “Maybe he got fed up of you not coming home.”

  “Or maybe he’s an omen.”

  Algernon, who up until now has listened quietly to us, flicks his ears back and stares at me. It’s unnerving.

  “I don’t usually go in for superstition, but he has a distinct feeling of magic about him. It’s not strong, but it’s there,” Jer says, smacking his lips like he does sometimes when he’s picking up Augur traces.

  “I remember you saying that before, like he’s an Augur’s cat or something.”

  “Ah well, I think it’s a problem for another day, don’t you?” Jer says, getting up from the bed and patting me on the shoulder. “Try to get some sleep, mate. You’ve earned it, after today.” At the door, he hesitates and turns around. “I know it doesn’t seem like it right now, but everything will turn out alright. You’ve got to keep reminding yourself what we’re doing this for.”

  I nod without replying and let him close the door behind him. I know what I’m doing this for. Getting Ella back is one thing, but protecting her, and eventually our baby, is a whole other thing. The only way to do that is to stop the madness that Munday and the Duke started. If any of Ella’s note is true, if she really does want me to forget about her, that’s going to make it a whole lot harder.

  Algernon, as if sensing my unease, begins to knead my leg with his claws.

  “Ouch! Okay, okay, enough brooding for tonight. Let’s get some sleep, bud,” I say, flopping back on the bed. He decides to make himself comfortable on what I think of as Ella’s pillow and purrs himself to sleep.

  Twenty minutes later, I’ve only succeeded in drifting in and out of nightmares. Visions of Munday’s black eyes, of Mulberry’s bloodied grin, and of Agnes’s strained expression have flashed through my mind without respite. I flick the night light back on and sit up, trying to push the pictures out of my head.

  My eyes land on Ella’s camera on the dresser, and impulsively I get up to grab it. I don’t know why. I pull back the lever, like I’ve seen her do a dozen times before, and point it at myself in the mirror, catching my weary face and the fluff ball on the bed in the background all in one frame. I press the button down until I hear the distinctive clunk of the shutter.

  I have no idea what I’m doing or if I’m going to get a picture out of it, but the need to see the photos on the camera is too great. I wind the film back until I’m sure it’s safely inside its canister, opening the back and pulling it out gently.

  Ella once tried to give me a photography lesson, and I remember telling her I’d be better off using my phone. I smile at the memory of her laughing at that.

  Rummaging around in the wardrobe, I find her camera bag. She had these little plastic cylinders for protecting and storing the film, and I fish the only one I can find out of the front pocket. It rattles, so there must be something already in it. Another film, perhaps.

  Algernon, rudely awoken by the commotion, mews at me and nudges my elbow.

  Pulling back the lid, I’m caught by surprise—it’s not another roll of film. I pull out the USB stick and examine it. It’s the one we were given by a guy last year. He gave me information on Munday and the Facility, or FADE, on one stick, and he gave another to Ella, with no other instruction than that she needed to keep it away from the Duke and the press. My pulse quickens. This could have some serious answers on it. Something to help track Ella down or find out what the Duke is really up to, maybe.

  I retrieve my old laptop and plug the USB stick in, my hands tremouring slightly over the keyboard. When the icon appears in the desktop, I open it up, but I’m disappointed to see that, unlike the folders and files of info I was given to hand over to the reporters, there’s one solitary zip file on there, and it’s encrypted and password protected.

  “Damnit.”

  I spend the next half an hour puzzling over what might unlock it, but knowing the guy that gave us this, it isn’t going to be something obvious. Exhausted, I eventually give up and throw myself back into trying to sleep. At least I have something to distract me from the nightmares: the semblance of a plan forming in my mind. I know exactly what I’m going to do tomorrow.

  CHAPTER 5

  When Lou, Jer, Marco, and I arrive at the ATU the following morning, it’s the very definition of chaos. I had a fight to leave the cat at home as it is, and now I’m glad I insisted, despite his best efforts to climb into Lou’s bag. Agent
s and office staff are running through the corridors, there are phones and call-to-action signals going off everywhere, and people are running into each other.

  I want to see how Crossley is doing after Mulberry knocked him out, but rather than being tucked up in the medical bay, he’s at his desk and looks like he didn’t sleep a wink.

  “Oh good, glad to see you all decided to show up for work,” he says irritably.

  “Why aren’t you at home resting, Cross?” Jer asks, calling him by the nickname he hates but which he tolerates thanks to Jer’s Irish charm.

  “They got in a healer just for me, so I’m fine, and we have a terrorist to catch. Not just any terrorist. The big, bad leader of terrorists,” he replies grimly. He looks to me. “How are you doing?”

  “Could be better.” I give him a weary smile and perch on the corner of his desk.

  “I think I might have a lead,” I say under my breath, although I doubt anyone would overhear us in amongst all the shouting and rushing around.

  Crossley looks surprised, but then shakes his head. “This isn’t another one of your hunches, is it? I don’t want a repeat of that pointless eight-hour stakeout I did last week.”

  My cheeks redden at the reminder of sending him on a wild goose chase. “No. This is something much more substantial, but I’d like to keep it quiet until I know for sure.”

  Crossley looks at each of us in turn and sighs, like we’re a group of lost causes.

  “I’m sorry, Curtis, under usual circumstances I could probably swing something, but it’s all hands on deck to find Munday now.”

  I feel a pang of disappointment, but I’m not ready to give up just yet.

  “Have the techs had any joy with those computers we recovered?”

  “Yep. You won’t believe it, but the whole lot contained Munday’s research from back when he was a practising psychiatrist. All the stuff he was working on to try and make himself more powerful—and the basic formula for the first iteration of Air.”

  “Holy moly. Jackpot!” Jer exclaims.

  “I know, right? With that kind of evidence, we can put him away for five life sentences. Not that we needed any excuse.” Crossley grins and takes a long swig of coffee. I dread to think how many of those he’s had already.

  “Was there anything at all that we could use to track him down?” Lou asks, not ready to celebrate just yet.

  “Well, all of his research was done while the Facility was still up and running. We’re thinking of sending a team over there to see if the old site has been disturbed recently.”

  I feel Jer and Lou tense beside me. Any mention of the Facility usually makes them catatonic. I clear my throat loudly and try to steer the conversation back to other matters. “What are the chances that Miss Banks would give us the day? Call it a personal day to come to terms with what happened,” I say, trying another angle.

  “You don’t give up, do you?” Crossley says, giving me a dubious look. He scratches his beard and rubs his eyes wearily. “Unfortunately we’re stretched thin as it is. I haven’t even seen Miss Banks this morning, and if you’re going to do something stupid, which is highly likely, I won’t be able to back you up.”

  “Cross, please,” Jer says, amiably putting a hand on my shoulder. “Three Augurs and this bad boy. Anyone who gives us a hard time won’t stand a chance.”

  Crossley opens his mouth to protest, but his desk phone rings, and he picks it up without hesitation, his face going slightly paler, if that were possible, as he listens to the voice on the other end of the phone.

  “Yes, ma’am,” he replies, replacing the handset. “The Civil Defence Minister wants to see us.”

  Given his tone of voice, you’d think someone just died. Maybe they did. I feel a pang of sympathy for Miss Banks.

  “Just you two?” Jer asks.

  “I’m afraid so,” Crossley replies.

  Jet fails to hide his relief, and I shoot him a worried look.

  “We’ll wait for you in IT. See if we can’t help out the computer nerds in sifting through that data,” Marco volunteers, slapping me on the back as Crossley reluctantly leads me away.

  I follow him out of the bustling office and through the various levels, until we reach the same door I stood outside yesterday evening. I’m not sure why it surprises me that we’d be meeting her in Miss Banks’s office, but it feels weird. Wrong, even.

  Crossley knocks, and when we are called in, the only person behind the vast metal desk is the Civil Defence Minister herself. There’s no sign of Banks anywhere, and I briefly wonder what they might have done to her. The woman in her place consumes the space with her presence, as if the office was never anything but her own. As if Miss Banks wasn’t just sitting there a few hours before. It seems twisted somehow, and kind of foreboding.

  I notice several folders laid out on the desk in front of her. The top one is wide open, and although I shouldn’t look, I immediately recognise my own photograph paper-clipped to the top of it. It seems like the cleverly disguised psychiatrist calling himself Agent Foster had a lot to write about me in my staff file.

  “Thank you for coming so promptly, gentlemen,” Ms. Angeles says in her deep voice, forcing me to look away from my own dossier. She gestures to the two chairs in front of the desk, and we sit, which I’m glad of, but I notice it makes Crossley look even more uncomfortable. Sitting down in the presence of a senior is usually frowned upon, and I can tell he’s already on edge. If it weren’t for the fact that she had just been studying a file about me, I’d think it was kind of welcoming. Ms. Angeles is over six feet tall and would tower over him, although she and I are almost the same height. It’s less intimidating to sit in front of her than to have her look down on you.

  If the phrase tall, dark, and handsome had been used to describe a woman, it would have been used for her. Disarmingly beautiful and utterly terrifying, she studies me with her brown, almond-shaped eyes and presses her lips together as if considering what to say first.

  It feels stifling in the subterranean office, and suddenly I have the urge to remove my jacket, but I sit as motionlessly as I can while she weighs me up.

  “I’ll be frank: After yesterday’s stunt, Miss Banks has been relieved of her duties for the foreseeable future.”

  “Holy crap,” I exclaim.

  I catch Crossley wince out of the corner of my eye. I’m in the presence of someone who is only just below the Prime Minister on the food chain of the British government, so I should probably try to hold my tongue.

  “You and your friends have always been a bit of a…pet project for Miss Banks, and I’ve had my reservations about letting you get involved with the ATU,” she continues, spreading her hands out on the desk in front of her. A jolt of panic course through me.

  “But I have to admit that I’ve been impressed, both with your performance and your adaptability. I want you to know that I don’t lay the blame with either of you for what happened yesterday. Under the circumstances, I think you did exceptionally well.”

  I exhale, only then realising I was holding my breath. After everything that happened, I was fairly sure we’d be done for.

  “Thank you, ma’am,” Crossley answers for the both of us.

  “But there are going to be some changes around here, starting immediately. I will be looking after the ATU for now and directly running all of our operatives, at least until both Carlton Munday and Jonathan Clarence have been taken into custody and brought to justice.”

  Crossley is an agent to the core, and he barely reacts when she says this, but I know the telltale sign of agitation in him. His fingers twitch on the armrest of the chair. “Very good, ma’am,” he replies, in as polite a voice as he can muster.

  “I won’t be able to run your team directly as Banks did, due to the number of other things I need to oversee. There are some large decisions being made as regards the Augur problem, but I need to be here, supervising one of the most problematic prison-break scenarios in years. This isn’t the onl
y organisation that has now been tasked with finding both criminals, but the ATU is the best equipped, so I will be staying put for a while. I realise that Banks had a soft spot for you and your friends, Curtis, but I’m afraid you all pose a risk out in the field that I just can’t afford right now.” She flicks her eyes between us before speaking again. “I’m shelving you until this all blows over.”

  “What? But we’ve only just started!” I say, before Crossley grips my arm tightly to make me shut up.

  “I understand that this may be upsetting, but the entire government is watching the ATU right now. Having a bunch of inexperienced teenagers running around during an investigation is just not an option, and as I said, I don’t have the ability to supervise you like Banks did. Crossley here will have to give you orders that involve administration and research only.”

  I want to open my mouth to protest again, but Crossley’s fingers dig into my arm through my jacket. Angeles gives me an emotionless stare.

  “Now, any new developments to report?” she asks Crossley, who clears his throat uncomfortably and eases his grip on me.

  “Not since this morning, ma’am. We have a team revisiting Munday’s old research site this morning, another going through all of the Duke’s properties again, and we’re still hoping those hard drives will give us a lead.”

  “Good. Widen the search to include any and all property that belonged to Munday or that Matilda Clarence, maiden name Mayes, or Ella Cooper have been registered to. I want a full paper trail for them on my desk by end of day.”

  “What? Why are you looking into Ella?”

  If looks could kill, I’d be dead twice at the hands of Angeles and Crossley. “Sorry,” I add, clenching my fists on my lap.

  Angeles narrows her eyes at me again, debating whether to answer me or throw me out. When she thinks I’ve suffered enough, she replies, “After that message the butler brought to you yesterday, her status has changed from kidnapping victim to suspect, Curtis.”