Fated (18 page)

When she set foot in the diner she was surprised to see Mrs Lovell, back in her sensible plaid skirt and lace-up shoes, sitting at one of the booths at the back. She hurried around the counter towards Joe and took her apron.

'How've you been, Evie?' Joe asked.

'Yeah, um, good thanks,' she replied. It was the first time they'd talked since the night of the parking lot attack, her first shift back at the diner since then.

'How's the new job working out for you?' he asked with a cheeky smile.

Evie tried to smile back but she just couldn't. 'It's OK,' she said, taking her order pad and heading over to Mrs Lovell's table.

'Hi, Mrs Lovell, what can I get you?'

'How's your ear?' Mrs Lovell's face was a picture of worry.

'Missing in action,' Evie answered, surreptitiously flicking her hair over to hide it. 'This feels weird,' she whispered, ducking her head. 'I still can't get over the fact that you're not actually Mrs Lovell.'

Mrs Lovell smiled faintly.

'Do you actually knit?' Evie asked.

Mrs Lovell let out a small laugh. 'I do now. I've been in town almost fifteen years. It's my home, Evie. As it is yours.'

Evie wrinkled her nose. 'Did they make you come here?'

Mrs Lovell's eyes dashed to the counter. She held her menu up to look like she was ordering. 'They didn't need to make me, Evie. I wanted to come. I wanted to make sure you were safe.'

Evie's mouth fell open. Why would anyone do that for her? Before she could ask another question, Mrs Lovell took her hand and squeezed it.

'Evie, I knew your real mother. She was my best friend. More - she was like a sister. You look like your dad but you have your mother's smile and her eyes,' she said sadly. 'You're like her,' she said, suppressing a smile. 'She was just as brave as you.'

Evie felt her knees shaking. She had to swallow repeatedly before she could open her mouth without fear of choking on a sob. 'You knew them?' She shook her head. 'How did they die? Victor won't tell me.'

Mrs Lovell pulled her hand away. 'Can you come over to my house later?' she said quietly. She looked up suddenly. Was that a flash of fear Evie saw in her eyes? 'Don't let anyone see you,' she said.

Evie nodded, wondering who she was so scared of. Why the secrecy? Maybe she just didn't want her cover blown.

'Just a coffee, thanks, Evie,' she said in a louder voice for Joe's benefit, putting the menu down.

Mrs Lovell's house was a small clapboard one not far from Evie's own, on the road north out of town. Evie parked further up the street down a dirt track and backtracked on foot, coming around to the rear porch and tapping quietly on the door.

Mrs Lovell let her in, ushering her through into her front room and down onto a couch laden with throws and cushions. Then she sat down next to her. 'Here,' she said, handing something to Evie.

Evie took it. It was a photograph of two girls. The girl on the left had big earrings and red hair in a ponytail springing from the top of her head. The girl on the right was grinning widely, and had brown hair swept over one shoulder and blue eyes. Evie recognised the smile because once upon a time she used to grin like that. There were photos to prove it.

'Excuse the fashion,' Mrs Lovell said, 'early Eighties. We were going through a punk phase. That's when we met your father. You should have seen him.'

'How old were you?'

'Sixteen,' Mrs Lovell answered, 'a year younger than you are now. We'd just started training together. Alongside your father. He was rather gorgeous. We all had our eye on him it must be said.'

'How did they die?'

Mrs Lovell took a deep breath. 'They died protecting you. They were trying to save you from something very bad.' Her eyes flashed to the door as though the bad thing was just outside, lurking in the shadows. 'And we placed you with the Tremains to keep you safe.'

'Why did the Hunters come back for me?'

Mrs Lovell bit her lip before answering. 'We didn't come back for you. Some of us never left you.' She sighed. 'I don't think you realise who you are, Evie. How important you are.'

Evie stared at her blankly. Mrs Lovell reached over and took the photo from her hands. 'You're going to be much stronger than any of us, Evie. Much more powerful. It's why Risper doesn't like you.'

'Doesn't
like
me?' Evie laughed bitterly. 'Understatement. She wants to
kill
me.'

Mrs Lovell shook her head. 'She doesn't. She can't kill you.'

'Er, she tried to plant a saw blade in my head.'

'Believe me, she won't kill you,' Mrs Lovell reiterated.

'She took half my ear off,' Evie said, flicking her hair over her shoulder to better display the blood-soaked Band-Aid on her ear.

'Well, Victor's had words. He's told her to back off.'

'Words?' Evie gaped. 'Why is she even here if she hates me so much?'

'Because,' Mrs Lovell said, sighing, 'despite her attitude she's good to have onside. She'll train you well. You'll just have to ignore the anger. She's jealous.'

'But
why
is she jealous of me?'

'You're the child of two of the most powerful Hunters there ever were. And you're a direct descendant of the original Hunters.'

'So? Why would anyone be jealous of the fact I'm an orphan with a family tree heavily branched with murderers?'

'Because, Evie,' and now there was an urgency, a seriousness in her voice that made Evie sit up, 'you could be the one who ends this. That's what the prophecy says.'

'Prophecy?' Evie asked. 'I thought we left the clairvoyancy to the Unhumans.'

'It's an Unhuman prophecy. From a Sybll. Laid down many, many hundreds of years ago. The legend has it that the prophecy was broken into pieces and spread out by the Sybll, who didn't want the realms fighting pointlessly over what would be and could never be changed. The Hunters have tried for centuries to gather those pieces, hoping they would reveal the identity of the child. We have one part.' She stopped, looking frustrated by Evie's blank face. 'Did you not read the book Victor gave you?'

'Yes,' Evie said, nodding vaguely.

'Did you read about the prophecy of the White Light?'

Evie thought back. 'Yes,' she said. 'You mean the bit that went on about a White Light ending a war by severing something? Yada yada. I skipped that bit. I thought it was a metaphor for something.'

Jocelyn smiled. 'It is. It's a metaphor for you.'

'The White Light.' Evie was the one smiling now. 'Yeah. You've known me all my life, Mrs Lovell.'

'Jocelyn.'

'Jocelyn.' Evie sighed politely. 'Does that sound like me?'

'Yes.' Jocelyn nodded more emphatically. 'You didn't know your real parents, Evie. But if you had you'd maybe understand better why we all believe it. They were incredibly special. Completely in tune with each other. The most exceptional fighters we've seen before or since, though I think in time you might match them.'

But they both got killed, Evie thought, but didn't say. How exceptional at fighting were they really?

'Well, surely there must be other Hunters that spew out children together. I can't be the
only
child of Hunters. Maybe one of the others is this White Light.'

'No, the prophecy spoke of a pure-bred hunter. A child of two who remained. You are the only child of two warriors.'

'What do you mean?'

Mrs Lovell's voice had dropped. She was stroking the edge of the photograph she was holding. 'You're the only one left, Evie.'

The only one left? But the family tree was vast, with so many branches they started to look like thorns.

'How can I be the only one left?' she asked. Was the death rate that appalling?

Jocelyn looked at her sadly and shrugged. That wasn't the answer Evie had quite been looking for.

'You don't have a family,' Evie said, after a moment's pause. It was more a statement than a question.

She'd always thought of Mrs Lovell as an old spinster, but in the photograph she'd just shown her she was young and pretty and, even now, she was still attractive. Not half as old as Evie had thought her to be, once you removed the bun and took away the plaid. And she'd been alone half her life. Maybe
all
her life. Evie swallowed, a sudden vision assaulting her of sitting in a kitchen surrounded by hundreds of cats, her face all wrinkled, her joints arthritic from too much running around chasing down Unhumans. If she even made it to forty - the odds weren't in her favour. She glanced around the room. It was warm, cosy even, but there were no photographs on the mantelpiece, no children's toys lying about, nothing to indicate love or family.

She looked around for the cats.

'It's too dangerous,' Mrs Lovell said quietly, interrupting Evie's stream of thought.

'But what about you?' Evie burst out. 'What about me? What if I want children one day?' Admittedly, up until this point in her life she'd never given children a second thought. But now she was having to consider
not
having any she felt as though something had been stolen from her. Plus she was outraged at the enforced celibacy that Victor had happily failed to mention.

Mrs Lovell stood up. Her face had hardened to fury. She rounded on Evie. 'Would you want to bring a child into the world - knowing what happened to your parents - and knowing what would likely happen to the child -
knowing
that they'd become a Hunter too? That this would be their life?'

Evie blinked up at the older woman. No. She wouldn't. Jocelyn was right. She would never bring children into the world if it meant giving them this life. A future like hers. She winced. Why was she even thinking about it? Having a child would require her to start trusting people again, to actually have a relationship. It would require getting close to someone.
Very
close to someone. And that was definitely off the cards. But even as she thought it she felt her chest constricting. The memory of warm hands on her back, fingers stroking her hair. It felt like that Mixen was there in the room burning her all over again. She closed her eyes, scrunched them tight.

'This life sucks. I--' She didn't finish before Jocelyn dropped onto the couch next to her and took her hand, the fury seemingly dissipated.

'Don't get close to anyone, Evie,' she said. 'Look what happened to Tom. And Anna.'

Evie's eyes flashed open at the mention of their names.

'Tom could have died too. Think about the future. Do you want to be responsible for any more deaths? Of children or friends or lovers?'

Evie shook her head vehemently. At the same time feeling the raw edges of the wound tear open - so it wasn't just her who thought she was responsible for Anna's death. Jocelyn did too. And she was right - she
was
responsible. No matter what Victor tried to tell her about blaming the Brotherhood.

She was responsible, so there was no way she was going to let anyone else get hurt. She closed her eyes again, trying to imagine what that might mean. What shutting herself off to everyone might actually entail.

But the only person in her head, filling the space which should have been filled with friends and phantom children, was Lucas.

19

Evie walked with dead steps and an even deader heart down the hallway to Lucas's room, unsure what was drawing her there. He wasn't in - neither was her mum. The house was deserted and she felt like an intruder, walking through rooms that no longer belonged to her.

She opened the door to his room and hesitated, feeling the ghost of his presence. She felt a shiver travel lightly up her body and fade away in the emptiness that surrounded her.

She found herself trailing her hands over the bedcover, along the seat back, standing in front of the photograph, wondering at the coincidence that they were both orphans. The little boy in the photograph with the shining eyes, unruly hair and wicked grin looked so happy and free standing between his parents. She wondered if Lucas had ever felt that way since or if he would ever feel that way again. Was it even possible? Wasn't that happiness destroyed alongside his innocence? With the knowledge of death and the acceptance of loss?

She turned in a circle. What was she doing here? What was she looking for? She didn't know. She only knew that the sense of longing ignited in her wouldn't go. It just kept burning. She crossed to the wardrobe and threw open the doors, ran her fingers through the few shirts hanging up, leant in and breathed in the smell of his skin. The sense of familiarity rocked her - how could he be so familiar to her? She went and sat on the bed trying to gather her thoughts.

She couldn't. She could only grasp at the smoky edges of them. She lay down, drawing her legs up to her chest, and closed her eyes and for an instant imagined Lucas's arms wrapped around her. Imagined herself folding into him, pressing her face to his neck and breathing in deep. And then came a wave of confusion - why him? Why were her thoughts - even her feet - dragging her towards him? She barely knew him. Had never confided in him or touched him apart from one brief moment when he'd been in front of her, bringing her back to earth, and she'd felt a jolt of something but his face had stayed impassive. What was she doing? She hadn't even kissed him. But she was grieving for him as though she had and as if he was now dead or something.

She saw it then clearly for the first time. She saw that she was right. She
was
grieving - for the fact that she would never be able to get closer than this to him, curled up in his empty bed, breathing in his fading scent, imagining his arms around her. This was as close as she would ever get ever again to anybody. It wasn't just about him, she didn't think, it was the vision of loneliness stretching out ahead of her - a life like Mrs Lovell's, with no love in it. And although she'd forsaken the idea of love after what happened with Tom, now she couldn't have it, she realised how much she wanted it. The power of the sob that broke her was so strong it was more like a convulsion. But it was noiseless, an empty scream from the depths of her that contorted her body in passing.