Divided Souls (15 page)

The Urn.

Sir Alric must have found the Urn, and where better to hide it than in plain sight? Cassie gulped hard. The Urn, which could contain and preserve a spirit indefinitely …

Cassandra, NO! It can’t be … Absolutely not. We must
walk away NOW!

‘Break old ties …’ Cassie whispered, shock making her voice quiver. ‘Oh my God. Ranjit.’ She shut her eyes, fear thrilling into her bones.
What were you planning?

What have you done?

C
assie was good at this. And so she should be. From being the Cranlake Crescent insomniac skulker, she’d slipped naturally and easily into the same role at the Darke Academy. Yes, the school sneak. Why not? Silent and alone, she prowled the halls once more. Though she was never entirely alone, of course. Estelle’s dissent was almost impossible for Cassie to ignore, but she was trying her level best.

Cassandra, you must listen to me. This is a mistake
of magnificent proportion. We must stay as far away from
this plot as we can … he means to separate us …
Cassandra, please …!

Cassie took a deep breath and pushed the spirit’s voice as far back in her mind as she could. There was no way she was turning back. If she’d worked this out right, if Ranjit had decoded the Few manuscript, or at least partof it, and was trying to locate the artefacts, then there was no doubt at all that Sir Alric Darke had found it out by now too. She didn’t have a choice: she had to search his office, try and find out what he knew, how close he was coming to Ranjit.

There was no other movement at all as Cassie crept along the darkened corridors or dodged the shadows of the filigree lamps. Even Marat was lying low, perhaps satisfied with one corpse for now and not in need of intrigue or spying. Outside Sir Alric’s office Cassie paused, ears alert for any sound. Close by, there was only the rustle of a cat in the garden, the frightened squeak of a mouse, and far in the distance the city sounds of traffic and horns and faraway music, drifting across the quiet Bosphorus.

The door was locked, of course. This time she couldn’t pick the lock, having no gold hairpin borrowed from Isabella as she’d had on prior occasions, but that wasn’t problem now. Despite Estelle’s increasing protests, she felt confident enough in her ability to control the bizarre, invisible power she had acquired with her broken induction ceremony. It was pretty straightforward to focus it on the lock, to feel the mechanism’s keyhole start to shift, glowing through the red filter of her vision. Curiously, she stretched out a hand, but that wasn’t necessary – she could feel the incandescent heat of the lock at her fingertips, stinging her skin. Clenching her fist and concentrating harder, the lock clicked open with a satisfying
thunk
.

Smiling, Cassie pushed open the door. The office was in semi-darkness, but there was the light of the moon, and she moved quickly across the room to switch on that pretty desk lamp. Letting the red fade from her eyes as they adjusted to the dim light, she turned a slow circle, examining the room.

It wasn’t as if she was going to steal anything – she wouldn’t take anything she didn’t have a right to – but seeing as he was clearly not telling the Few everything, she’d have to figure things out for herself. She had a sense of honour, after all. Unlike Sir Alric Darke, she thought bitterly.

But he did protect you, he did save you from the Council, whispered a small inner voice that wasn’t Estelle’s. Maybe there’s a reason he’s hiding things?

That was her conscience, presumably. Cassie chose to ignore it. Can’t afford you any more, she thought. Instead she stood in the centre of the room, glaring around as if her eyes could bore a hole in the wall. Maybe she should try it? No. She’d have to do this the old-fashioned way. She began to hunt through drawers and cabinets.

Her search was methodical, systematic, thorough. When she’d finished with the most obvious places, she began to pull books from the shelves, one by one. She was on the third shelf down when she felt it.

‘Ow!’

It was like electricity, the little jolt of power that surged into her finger. Cassie jumped back, startled, then reached up to that point on the bookshelves again, bumping her fingertip along the spines until she felt that little jolt once again.

Excitement rising inside her, mingling with trepidation, she pulled books from the shelf and piled them on the floor. There, behind them, a small safe was set into the wall.

Wow, she was getting good at this.

No, Cassandra, we mustn’t …

‘Yes, Estelle,’ Cassie muttered, concentrating hard. It was the work of moments this time to manipulate the mechanisms of the safe’s locks, and when she swung open the heavy door and reached inside, she found the cavity was quite deep. Deep enough to hold a green leather folder, old and worn, with that familiar Few symbol embossed in gold on its cover.

Fascinated, she stroked its cover, then sat down in Sir Alric’s chair and laid it on his desk beneath the glow of the ornate lamp.

With a deep breath, she opened it, and then froze.

These were no thin, laser-printed pages; this was the original manuscript. Not only did Darke have the pages she’d found on Ranjit’s computer – and the illustrations were inked in beautiful colours, the engravings on the real thing being even more elaborate and beautiful – but he had the
second half
of the manuscript, too. Cassie swallowed hard, and then quickly began to read.

Here were the things that hadn’t been explained. Of course, the Elders had hidden the two parts separately, so afraid were they of the artefacts being discovered. A reasonable precaution, but pretty pointless in the days of computerised archives and instantly accessible information. Smart they might have been, those Elders, but they hadn’t foreseen the internet … Cassie couldn’t help smiling bitterly. The manuscript could never have been found by an ordinary researching historian, she’d bet her life on that, but a modern Few, technically literate, who knew what he was looking for? Hardly a problem at all.

Cassie lifted the bound pages delicately, laying each one down with care. Yes, here in the second part of the manuscript was the precise location of the Pendant: a basilica in the Hagia Sophia. Ranjit’s having only the first part of the document obviously meant he hadn’t known its location though; he could been searching all over Istanbul for the symbol that was mentioned in his part of the manuscript, and perhaps it had been sheer bloody luck that he’d spotted the carved emblem that day on their school trip. In any case, Ranjit must have, at some point, had this original of the first half in his possession. How else could he have scanned the pages and saved them on his computer? He may have been mysterious but Ranjit was also fiercely intelligent. The scans must have been a precaution. In case … in case someone like Sir Alric came snooping around and took them …

That small pleasure of Ranjit getting one up on Darke died almost immediately. Cassie’s mind whirled. If Sir Alric had the whole manuscript, both parts, then it was always possible that he had also got to the Pendant first.

‘Maybe Ranjit was too late?’ Cassie mumbled, half hoping but not fully believing. She stared at the new page she’d turned, so smooth and yellowed by age. As her eyes skimmed the script, her heart plummeted to the furthest depths of her chest.

‘Oh, Ranjit. Oh, my God,’ she whispered.

‘These artefacts must never be actively sought …’ Cassie couldn’t help but read the words aloud, her eyes wide with horror.

The worst of their nature?

She felt her fingers tense with rage and fear as she started at the details. Of course, it would have to be the first contact; after that it would be rendered safe once more. After all, the Elders would probably want the artefacts back, wouldn’t they? They’d have to be able to touch the artefacts themselves, once the poor unsuspecting thief had lost their marbles …

Cassie flattened her hands against the page, almost trying not to see the spidery script. There was no way round it. The first person to touch Pendant, Knife or Urn would change – and it definitely didn’t sound like it was for the better.

It explained everything, of course. Keiko had been no Pollyanna, but the Knife had given her a new, psychopathic hatred and violence. She’d been out of her mind when she tried to kill Cassie. That somehow made her feel even worse about the Japanese girl’s terrible death.

Hurriedly Cassie turned more pages, handling the heavy vellum with great care. She couldn’t help feeling respectful of the manuscript’s age, even as she wanted to rip the damned thing into tiny pieces.

And there it was: the Urn’s location. Cassie couldn’t help gulping hard and shoving the chair back, as if she could distance herself physically from what this meant.

The Yucatán …

Patrick’s words from all those weeks ago came back to her with a horrible jolt.

Erik was killed … in a landslide … I always wondered
what they were looking for, out there in the Yucatán.

But Sir Alric never said …

Of course he didn’t: it was a secret project. A top-secret, mysterious, Few-related project, entrusted only to the reliable, honourable Erik Ragnarsson. Oh Lord. They must have found the Urn. And something terrible had happened to Erik. But then it was entirely possible that Erik had been first to touch their find. Maybe Erik had been cursed in Sir Alric’s place.

Cassie didn’t want to think about it. What had happened to him? Only he and Sir Alric had been there. Erik was Few. He’d touched the Urn, been struck with the curse … and then what? A landslide, and Erik dead, or so Sir Alric said. What a convenient landslide. Oh God …

No matter how much Cassie tried not to think about it, she knew one devastating fact was almost certain. That Ranjit had no idea of this. No idea about what might happen if he was the first to touch an artefact.

He couldn’t have if he hadn’t seen the other half of this manuscript. Ranjit had more than likely gone blindly in search of the Pendant, thinking it could save his relationship with her, without a clue about the consequences. Or at least not the consequences for himself …

Then Cassie remembered the missing Urn, its sudden disappearance from the very office in which she now sat. There was every chance it was Ranjit who had taken it, but Erik’s sacrifice must mean that the Urn was safe to touch. The Pendant, however, was a different story.

And now Ranjit had disappeared.

Could Sir Alric have been using him too? But what about the others – Mikhail, Yusuf? What was he covering up? Was his mention of Jake just a diversion, a way to throw her off the scent?

Cassie’s breath became ragged as the horror of all the possibilities began to assail her mind. She had to get out of there, and fast. Covering her tracks as best she could, Cassie replaced the manuscript, spun the dial to lock the vault and replaced the books on the shelf, her head spinning.

We must take great care, my dear … please, please be
reasonable … there may be nothing we can do … we
shouldn’t continue to pursue this … PLEASE!

Maybe there is nothing to be done, Cassie thought. But if there was any chance that Ranjit was still alive, she had to find him. She had to try and help him.

As she quietly pulled the office door shut, Cassie was acutely aware that she
really
did not want to run into anyone on her way back to her room: there was potential for far too many awkward questions, and not many answers she could give. Edging into the next corridor she took a breath, listening for any footstep, preparing to make a dash for it.

Then her ringtone shrieked, slicing through the silence.

Swearing, Cassie fumbled in her pocket, almost dropping the phone as she dragged it out.

‘Shut up,’ she hissed wildly, silencing it at last. Leaning back against the wall, trying to breathe without a high note of panic, she peered at the illuminated caller ID.

Richard H-J

She was goggling at that, wondering what he wanted at this time of night, when something moved at the corner of her eye. Jerking her head round, she went absolutely still, senses pricked.

At the end of the passageway. Someone, there. They’d retreated into the shadows; maybe even ducked round the corner. Marat?

No, she decided. The figure was too light on its feet, had moved too fast.

But not half as fast as she could.

Angry, her senses clicking smoothly into high alert, Cassie sprinted after the shadow.

Whoever it was, they were a fast mover. When she reached the corner it was already running for the stairs, vaulting over the banisters and halfway down the first flight. Cassie reached the top of the stairs just as it vanished into the next bedroom corridor.

With a growl she leaped over the banisters in pursuit; no time for using the steps. She dashed into the corridor and caught the shadow’s edge as it bolted round a corner. He wouldn’t get away. He, she,
it
wouldn’t get away. Cassie put on speed, skidding into the next passageway, then sprang in a single leap down the next flight of stairs. She bounced off the far wall and recovered her footing, just in time to see the figure dodge into a bedroom and close the door – but quietly, as if he thought he’d escaped detection.

She halted, smiling grimly, then walked to the room where the shadow had vanished. Raising her fist to rap on the wood, she stopped short, breath stuck in her windpipe.

Alice. Alice, who hadn’t shared a room since the death of her roommate Keiko in the autumn term. Alice, who was now permitted a room alone for the rest of her school career, unless she wished to share.

And now she did. Because Isabella had moved in.

So who was the shadowy prowler? Alice? Isabella? That didn’t make sense.

Cassie felt suddenly sick. There was one other person she knew who liked to prowl the school corridors. One person who held a grudge that wouldn’t go away. Someone else who’d once been a scholarship student, but not any more. Someone who shouldn’t even be here …

Anger filling her as the shock drained away, Cassie hammered on the door. In less than two seconds, it was flung open.

Isabella’s face was stony, her lips compressed. She looked at Cassie with what seemed like all the defiance in her soul, and that was a lot. For a fleeting moment Cassie wondered if she’d even get past the girl; then her eye was caught by a figure behind Isabella, and she glared over her shoulder.

Tall, rangy, crop-haired, and a good bit colder-eyed than he used to be. He didn’t smile, but nor did he avert his eyes. A war of emotions rattled through Cassie’s mind. It was unexpectedly good to see the American boy, despite it all. But all the deception, the unknown motivations, the resentment in his gaze …

‘I knew it,’ she spat. ‘Jake Johnson.’

Isabella said nothing, but Cassie could her breathing hard, and she still barred the doorway like a bodyguard. There was no point trying to play the Few card and bully her way into the room; that wouldn’t cut any ice with these two.

Cassie made a big effort to control her dangerous temper. After all, they’d been friends once, and they’d faced a lot together; whatever had come between them, she was glad he was all right. Oddly glad, too, to see him back with Isabella. Breathing out slowly, Cassie shrugged. She didn’t want a fight.

‘Look,’ she sighed, ‘just tell me what’s going on, please? Where’s Alice?’

The charge of tension seemed to leak from the air like grounded electricity. With a confrontation off the cards, Isabella looked a little less sure of herself. ‘She’s gone to Ankara for the weekend. Her uncle works there. Cassie, I can’t tell you everything but I can explain what’s—’

‘No,’ Jake interrupted, putting his hands on her shoulders and moving her gently aside. ‘I’ll tell her.’

Cassie eyed him as she stepped into the room. ‘Have you got the Knife, Jake?’

‘Who wants to know? You, or Estelle?’

She kept hold of her temper, sighing deeply. ‘We’re the same, Jake; get used to it. You haven’t answered my question. Have you got the Knife? Has Ranjit been in touch about it?’

‘What?’ Isabella looked baffled.

Jake gave his girlfriend a wary glance and said hastily, ‘I’m here because of Isabella. I’m here because I love her and I couldn’t stay away, OK?’

Cassie eyed him sceptically. ‘Right. So why have you been following me?’

‘Like you used to followed me?’ he retorted. ‘It isn’t any of your business, Cassie. I’m just glad Isabella’s seen the light about you.’

‘Jake, no!’ protested Isabella. She looked beseechingly at Cassie. ‘I meant it: this is only a breathing space. Cassie and I both needed time to ourselves, Jake, that’s all. Look, Cassie, I’m sorry I lied to you. I couldn’t tell you, and I needed to be with him. You have to understand.’

Cassie took a deep breath. It hurt, that was true, but she
did
understand. Besides, it wasn’t as if she’d had no secrets from Isabella.

‘Yeah. Yes, course I do, Isabella. But how’s he been coming and going? Jake shouldn’t be able to get into the Academy.’

‘I found somebody in the city who’d clone my Academy pass.’ Isabella looked a little sheepish. ‘It was easier than I thought it would be. Someone at the Book Bazaar did it: replaced my photo and my name with Jake’s – not his real name, obviously. He used a fake one. The boatmen aren’t all that interested anyway; so long as they see a pass they don’t check too closely.’

‘I pull a hat down over my head when I get on or off the boat,’ added Jake. ‘Nobody takes any notice of me. The other kids probably assume I’m a gardener or a cleaner.’ There was a distinct tinge of old bitterness in his tone.

Isabella slipped an arm round his waist. ‘Cassie, you must believe Jake has had nothing to do with those … killings,’ she pleaded.

Cassie was silent for a long moment, her thoughts going in horrible directions.

‘She’s right,’ said Jake. ‘It doesn’t matter to me what you think, but for what it’s worth, I had nothing to do with those deaths. Or Ranjit’s disappearance.’

‘No,’ Cassie said slowly. ‘I believe you.’

‘Have you heard anything from him?’ he asked. ‘Ranjit?’

Cassie paused, trying to contain the fear and worry at the very mention of him. ‘As you said. It’s none of your business.’

There was an awkward silence for several seconds, but Cassie didn’t regret snapping. She was thinking too hard, wondering what to do.

‘Did it occur to you that Ranjit’s body hasn’t turned up,’ asked Jake softly, ‘because he’s the one doing the killing?’

‘What? How dare you!’ She took an abrupt step backwards. Her shock at his suggestion was heightened by the fact that, somewhere very deep down, she may have had the same thought herself …

‘He’s evil, Cassie. I know how you feel about him and I’m sorry, but
everything
points to him. With Jess, and with the others now too. Look, he led you on, got you to trust him, but didn’t he always let you down when it counted?’

She found she didn’t trust her voice. Not to answer that question, anyway. Resolutely she ignored it.

‘Ranjit wanted something from you,’ she told Jake coldly. ‘Are you quite sure he hasn’t been in touch?’

‘I haven’t seen him since I got to Istanbul, Cassie. Yeah, he suggested a meeting, some crap about offering me information, but it doesn’t matter because it didn’t happen. He didn’t show. I never really thought he would; who’d trust Ranjit Singh?’ he sneered. ‘I’m here because of Jess, but I’m here for Isabella too.’

Isabella pressed even closer to him and squeezed his hand.

‘I don’t give a shit about Ranjit Singh,’ he went on. ‘And you know what? I wish I
had
seen him, because I’d love to get my hands on him. Maybe even more than you. But I haven’t, and I’ve got nothing to do with him going missing.’

I WILL fix this!
She couldn’t get Ranjit’s excited voice out of her head.
Cassie, I WILL fix this … I know how,
now … Break old ties … Break old ties!

‘Fine,’ she said softly.

‘You believe me?’

‘
Yes
.’ She took a deep breath. ‘Yes. Yes, I do believe you.’

The beep from her phone made her jump, eyes so wide that Jake frowned in curiosity. ‘What?’

Blinking, she tugged the phone urgently out of her pocket and stared at it. ‘Damn it,’ she whispered quickly. ‘Richard – I had a call. I totally forgot. He’s left a message.’

Jake turned away with a show of contempt, but Isabella watched her anxiously as she held the phone to her ear.

‘Cassie, what is it? What’s wrong?’

Cassie held a finger to her lips as she listened to the message, but she knew she must be going pale. She could feel the blood draining from her face, and by the time Richard’s recorded message clicked dead, she was dizzy. She couldn’t press the disconnect button, just lowered her hand to her side so that she could still hear the distant prissy voicemail: ‘…
to save, press two. To
delete, press three
…’

‘Cassie?’

Something was stuck in her throat. She coughed. ‘Richard. He’s … he says he’s heard from Ranjit.’

Jake spun round, excitement in his eyes. ‘So let’s go find the little bastard! He can take us to Ran—’

‘He’s gone to meet him. Wants me to come and meet them.’ Cassie felt like her voice was coming from someone else.

‘What?’ Jake prompted. ‘Where?’

‘Hagia Sophia.’ Cassie finally killed the voicemail with her thumb and frantically pressed Richard’s speed-dial button. ‘Answer. Please, please.
Answer!
’ Her voice was rising close to hysteria.

If Ranjit was alive, if he was hanging around the Hagia Sophia, then there was every possibility that he could have found the Pendant before Sir Alric. And if he’d found the Pendant before Sir Alric then he could be … dangerous.

It seemed as if no one was breathing when she finally snapped her phone shut, an awful fear tightening her throat.

‘Switched off,’ she whispered. ‘Richard’s switched off his phone. And he’s going to meet Ranjit. Alone.’