Divided Souls (11 page)

‘N
othing. He didn’t tell me
anything
.’ She was still fizzing with fury and confusion, and the rest of the Few didn’t seem too upbeat either.

‘I knew she’d be useless,’ murmured Sara to the girl at her side.

The others ignored that, and so did Cassie. She’d never seen the elite Few so restless, so unsure of themselves, so …
scared
.

‘Is someone out to get us?’ Cormac finally voiced what they were all thinking.

‘Looks that way, doesn’t it?’ said Vassily. ‘And it looks as if we can’t expect any help from Darke.’

Cassie clamped her mouth shut, resolving to say nothing more. She’d done her bit: let the rest of them work it out from here. She had other things to think about.

Like Jake Johnson being in Istanbul …

Did Isabella know? And if she did, why would she hide it from Cassie?

Why would she hide it? Unless Isabella knew something. Unless Jake had something to do with …

… oh, God …

Cassie felt sick. If it had been an option she’d have bolted from the room and straight to the toilets, but that would attract too much attention and way too many questions. There must be an explanation. But how could she expect Isabella to explain anything to her, let alone something as sensitive as this? They’d been growing more and more like strangers since they’d stepped off the
Mistral Dancer
.

But still, they were
friends
, weren’t they? They’d be friends for ever. Or at least that was what she used to think. All Cassie could think now was how much needed fixing in their relationship. She’d hardly been the greatest friend to Isabella: disdaining her for the company of the Few, treating her like a second-class citizen. And yet she’d had to, and that was Isabella’s fault too, for kind of seeming to resent Cassie’s new status, and being so stand-offish with the other Few …

Her head whirled. All she knew was what a bloody mess this was. Besides, she didn’t even know for sure that Isabella
did
know about Jake. And if she didn’t – well, Cassie wasn’t going to be the one to tell her.

It was just that she couldn’t help remembering that moment when she’d come back to their room. A male voice on the webchat. Isabella so absorbed she didn’t even hear Cassie come in. The look on her face when she finally did see her. And Isabella’s recent, magical mood change …

A voice said her name. Starting, coming back to the present, she saw that the Few were all standing up, talking in low voices, leaving in small solemn groups.

‘Cassie,’ said Richard again.

‘Sorry.’ She shook herself. ‘I was miles away.’

‘I noticed. I’m not surprised. I wish we could go for a drink. That’s the trouble about being stuck on this bloody island, isn’t it?’

She rubbed her forehead, laughing shakily. ‘I hadn’t thought of it like that, but you’re dead right. I suppose it’s deliberate.’

‘Yeah. I was thinking that. The bastard.’ He grinned, then grew serious. ‘He gave you a bad time, Darke, did he?’

‘It’s not that. He was perfectly polite and pleasant, as usual. But just no damn use at all. And I’m just, um … confused.’ She sighed. ‘And worried.’

Richard’s eyebrows knitted together with concern. ‘Well, look, there’s half a bottle of red left from the party. Why don’t we grab it and take it down to the beach?’

‘I don’t think—’

‘Listen, Cassie.’ He lowered his voice as they left the common room and he closed the door. They were last out. ‘If it’s about last night, I’m sorry – I mean, I don’t want you to think— I promised I wouldn’t give you any hassle. And I didn’t mean to. You just … you look like you could use someone to talk to.’

She shook her head violently. ‘No. It isn’t that. Honestly.’

‘You’re sure?’ He sounded so uncertain she put a hand on his arm and smiled.

‘Positive. And actually I
would
like a walk on the beach, but I think I should clear my head rather than make it fuzzier.’ She suppressed the corners of her mouth from turning up at Richard’s slightly disappointed look. ‘D’you reckon you could lay your mitts on some cold Coke?’

‘Your wish?’ he grinned, reopening the common room door behind him, then bowing deeply before disappearing inside. ‘My compulsion.’

They didn’t walk, as it turned out. Cassie was so tired, all she could do was perch on a rock and drink thirstily from the chilled litre of Coke that Richard had snaffled from the common room. Tiny waves lapped idly against the small crescent beach, edged with phosphorescence in the starlight. She could smell the flowers in the garden, drifting smoke and traffic fumes from the city, and that gentle, ever-present Bosphorus breeze. Something small rustled in the undergrowth at the edge of the beach: a cat, maybe. Floodlit spires and domes glowed in a pale line where the city lay across the glossy water.

She needed this. Some peace, just for a moment, something undemanding. She tilted the bottle to her lips once more.

Richard lay flat on the rock beside her, hands folded on his stomach, gazing up into the sky. He seemed to be going to great lengths to avoid touching her. So it was funny that she felt more comfortable in his company than she had in anyone else’s for what seemed like a very long time.

She’d always sort of got on with him, she thought, even when she hadn’t liked him very much. It wasn’t just the charm, it was something else … his vulnerability, maybe? Or just his sheer animal attractiveness; that might well have something to do with it. Closing her eyes, she smiled to herself in the darkness. Over the last year she’d fallen for him, been let down by him, fallen for him again, then been betrayed in the most appalling way when he’d tricked her into being initiated in the Few ceremony. And yet he’d somehow managed to redeem himself yet again. He was unbelievably easy to be with, and that was something she could appreciate more and more as her life grew increasingly complicated. Being with Richard wasn’t like the constant passion and fear and lust that went with … with some people’s company. Or lack of it. It was somehow safe. Comfortable. But not without its frissons. Very, very nice, in fact.

Cassie was almost sleepy now. She’d almost managed to empty her mind of all the escalating worries, just for a moment. The frothy little waves hissed and receded on the sand, hypnotic in their rhythm. There was nothing she could do about it all right now – about Jake, what he might be doing in Istanbul, what Isabella might be keeping from her, where Ranjit might be or … or what might have happened to him.

‘Cassie?’

‘M-hmm?’ She wondered idly if Richard was about to hit on her. She decided, on balance, that she didn’t mind too much if he did.

But he didn’t move. He sat up, clasped his hands tighter, as if he was praying, and said, ‘There’s something I’ve been wanting to tell you.’

Cassie set the Coke bottle down in a patch of sand, wiggling it till it stood up straight. Turning her head, she watched his face. It was still focused on the night sky. ‘That sounds ominous.’

He gave a funny little shrug. ‘It’s certainly important.’

She bit her upper lip, her heart suddenly thudding faster. ‘Richard. Is this about Mikhail or … or Ranjit? The disappearances?’

‘Hell, no. Though some of the superstitious twits back there might think it was all part of the same curse.’

‘There isn’t a curse,’ she scoffed. ‘There’s just some seriously twisted people around this place, that’s all.’

‘I couldn’t agree more. Still …’

‘Go on. You wanted to tell me something.’ She focused very intently on his face. She wanted to see every expression that crossed it, to scout for signs of deceit or double-cross, but she found she also just liked looking at it. Well, he was Few. Of course he had a beautiful face. Mind you, Sara was Few, and she didn’t like looking at
her
for extended periods.

‘It’s about the Academy.’ He broke into her thoughts. ‘Before you came. About what happened. You know? All that, uh, trouble with Jess. It was a very screwed-up time for the school, back then. A bit like now, in fact.’

‘Go on.’ She held her breath, still watching him. Her pulse remained fast and strong in her throat.

‘There’s something I want— No.’ Richard turned his head to stare at her. ‘There’s something I
need
to tell you.’

His gaze, now that it met hers, was incredibly intense. For a fleeting instant Cassie was scared to keep looking at him, scared to know what he wanted to tell her. It was going to be too much truth: she could see it in his agonised stare. So she slewed her eyes away, out beyond the rock, out to the edge of the black sea and the log that rolled in the waves, sucked out and tossed back in.

‘It’s about what happened in Cambodia.’

‘Richard …’

‘Please. Let me tell you what happened. I need to tell you.’

‘Richard?’ Cassie leaped to her feet, took a step forward and then stopped. She was paralysed, but not by what he was saying. She felt every muscle in her body tense as she watched that log, rolled by the gentle tide. It flopped in the shallow surf, and once more was dragged back by the tide. Rolled, and flopped again.

Logs didn’t flop.

It wasn’t a log.

Cassie gave a strangled cry, and jumped down from the rock. She heard Richard running too, but he wasn’t shouting after her. He must have seen what she’d seen. When she reached the water’s edge he was right beside her.

‘Oh God,’ he whispered.

Together they stared at it, sucked out once more into deeper water by the turning tide. A limp arm, and a featureless head, and wasted legs.

A corpse.

C
assie splashed out into the water, Richard close behind, both of them snatching helplessly at the darkness. It was as if the waves taunted them, gentle as they were. With a whimper Cassie grabbed for what might have been the remains of a sleeve – or perhaps skin – only to lose her hold and see the corpse sucked back out by the undertow.

She gave a furious sob of frustration as Richard put an arm round her and pulled her back.

‘We’ll call someone,’ he shouted, his phone already in his free hand. ‘We’ll get help.’

‘Sod help!’ she screamed. ‘It’s too sodding late for
help
!’

With that she jerked free of his hold, clenched her fists. It couldn’t be him,
couldn’t
. Not when she’d just been remembering how alive he’d been, their bodies crackling with passion.
It couldn’t be Ranjit
.

Remembering Carnegie Hall, summoning all her power, she concentrated it on a point between her and the corpse.

Richard, watching, stepped warily back, his phone at his ear. She ignored him, feeling the power of the spirit extend beyond her as it had done before. Easy. She reached out with it, invisible tangling cords of thought and force coiling round the elusive body. And the power intensified.

The little waves were no match for her, though their phosphorescence was scarlet now in her field of vision. The power was fully outside her now, the sea air crackling with it. She took a breath, drew the corpse towards her using the invisible force. The body came easily to shore, and she hauled it out of the water to collapse like an emptied sack on the pebbles and sand.

‘Bloody hell,’ whispered Richard, snapping his phone shut.

She closed her eyes, staggering, not weak but very dizzy. In a second he was beside her, gripping her arm to steady her, then helping her drag the grotesque thing well clear of the water. Grains of sand clung to it, and the dead weight of it furrowed a deep channel in the beach until they could move it no further. They let it slump, face down. Or so she assumed, Cassie thought, feeling the beginnings of hysteria. She whimpered again, drained by the effort, terrified of seeing whatever face the thing had left.

Richard’s arms were tight around her, turning her away from the sight. But his shocked whisper was in her ear, too. ‘How the hell did you do that?’

He wasn’t the only one asking. Slowly she became aware of voices behind her, people spilling out from the school – all Few, since they were so close to the common room.

‘Jesus.’

‘What is it?’

‘You mean, who is it …’

‘Did you see what she—’

‘How on earth—’

‘It’s like frigging Carnegie Hall all over again. What’s she done?’

‘What
has
she done?’

‘My
God
…’

If they didn’t shut up she was going to kill one of them. Tears stinging her eyes, Cassie crammed her hands over her ears, shutting out the hubbub, forcing even Richard away.

Then she thought: Why am I just standing here!

Before Richard could grab her, she’d bolted back to the drowned corpse, falling to her knees beside it. With a high-pitched intake of breath, then a shriek of revulsion, she reached out and shoved the thing on to its back.

No. No, she was being stupid. Of course there was no reviving it. There was no face to receive the kiss of life; nothing left but a vague semi-human shadow of a person. Tears rolled down her face and on to what had been living flesh. Grief, she knew it. Grief, but relief as well. Because as unrecognisable as this thing was, it was not Ranjit.

Unless Ranjit Singh was wearing Yusuf Ahmed’s pendant.

Cassie was reaching out to touch the distinctive gold shark tooth with a trembling finger when she heard the commanding shout.

‘Don’t touch him. Don’t touch anything.’

She turned, her vision still blurred by both power and tears, and saw a familiar figure approaching through a crowd of students – a crowd that parted for him without a word.

‘Move away, Cassie,’ said Sir Alric Darke.

Behind him she could make out the familiar figure of Marat, silent and squat as ever. And just as she’d seen him once before, he held a sheet draped over his arm. A shroud, all ready. As if he’d been waiting for this moment.

Sir Alric gazed down at the remains of Yusuf with an unreadable expression. What could she read there? wondered Cassie. Pity? Grief? Anger?

Nothing. Nothing at all. Except perhaps perplexity.

‘There’s nothing more to see here,’ said Sir Alric abruptly, turning to face the gaggle of watchers. ‘I’ve called the authorities. Return to your rooms. And for God’s sake, try for once to refrain from pointless gossip. You’ll get more information as soon as I do.’

The crowd dissipated, but there was no shaking the air of dread and thrill that hung over the beach. Cassie remained where she was, staring down at Yusuf until Marat stepped briskly past her and flung the sheet over the corpse.

The careless gesture reminded her so much of what had happened with Keiko it was painful. A terrible shard of remorse went through her, and she snapped her gaze up to Sir Alric, who remained stony-faced.

‘What happened to him?’ whispered Cassie.

‘I don’t know any more than you do.’

‘Don’t you?’ She glowered at him.

‘No, Miss Bell, I do not. Now Richard, Cassie, I suggest you take some time to rest; you are of course shocked. I will see you both in my office tomorrow morning. First thing, if you please. And, Miss Bell?’

She matched his steely stare.

‘Be careful where you show off those powers,’ he growled, and strode away from them, back to the faithful Marat and that pathetic, sodden cadaver.

Richard took her hand as they climbed across the rocks and up towards the Academy. She didn’t mind. It didn’t feel like a try-on, just comforting.

‘I’m really sorry, Cassie,’ he said in a low voice. ‘You have the most god-awful luck. You shouldn’t have had to see that.’

‘Somebody had to.’

‘I’m glad—’ He hesitated and squeezed her hand. ‘I’m glad it wasn’t Ranjit.’

She gave a gasping laugh. ‘Me too.’ Then she sobered, very swiftly. ‘But poor Yusuf. God, I wonder what happened to him?’

‘Too much to drink. Slipped and fell in.’

‘Oh come on, Richard.’ She shot him a glance. ‘You saw him as well as I did. He didn’t drown.’

Richard was silent till they were in the corridors of the Academy, and then he kept his voice very low. ‘He might have, Cassie. Water can do awful things. Fish. You know?’

‘Richard, the boy was like— God, I can’t even say it.’ Like a dried piece of meat left soaking in water? Like a used teabag, all shrivelled up? She rubbed her hands violently against her jeans, trying to erase the tactile memory. Like a wet mummy. That was it. That body had been desiccated. Soaked again afterwards, making it gummy as mucus, but sucked dry first. Cassie came to a halt with a sound of revulsion, put her hands over her head and shut her eyes tight. ‘Richard, get real.’

‘All right,’ he sighed. ‘I’ll walk you back to your room.’

‘No it’s fi—’ She hesitated. ‘Actually, yes, OK. That would be great. Thanks.’

He took her hand again, and kept it firmly in his. ‘You don’t have to put up a front with me, Cassie,’ he said gently. ‘You’re scared, and that’s understandable. More than understandable.’

‘Yeah.’

‘I am too.’ He turned at her door and pulled her into his arms for a tight hug. She could feel his breath against her neck, and it felt hugely comforting, and oddly electric. ‘Night, Cassie,’ he whispered.

‘Night, Richard.’

She watched him walk away, a small thrill of lust giving way as the sense of dread reasserted itself. For a moment she was tempted to run after him and confide, but that would be stupid. Richard didn’t know what had happened to Keiko. And she just couldn’t tell him about Jake being in Istanbul.

So she could hardly tell him that Keiko’s corpse had looked just like Yusuf’s. Right after Cassie had thrust in the Knife. The Knife that Jake still had.