The Storm (25 page)

It was like being inside a washing machine at full spin, and he had nothing left to fight with.

His angel was dying, it had been too badly injured. Brick tried to stretch out his wings but one was missing, the other hanging down, torn and useless. Fortunately his armoured skin still burned, although the fire was weaker now, barely strong enough to illuminate the funnel of smoke and cloud around him. Even if he’d still had his wings they wouldn’t have done him any good. He could no longer see where he’d come from, or where he was going.

Something loomed up in the darkness, too fast to avoid. He curled up, punching through it, seeing chunks of masonry shatter into dust. There were other things here, caught like scraps of food in the man’s gullet. People too, or what was left of them, pieces of gristle that still had human faces, snagged on the edge of the throat. They flashed past him, hundreds of them, thousands maybe. These were just the dregs. How many millions more had been swallowed?

And he was one of them. Stupid, angry, pathetic Brick. It wasn’t like anyone would miss him anyway. No, he was already a ghost, already forgotten.

Don’t think it,
he told himself, feeling his emotions cut through the heart of the angel.
It’ll make you weak. You have to fight.

He flailed, thumping through a vast, floating mountain of rock. On the other side of it he suddenly saw where the tunnel narrowed, ending in a point that radiated utter darkness. Clouds of smoke and atomised matter spiralled around it, sparking off bolts of lightning. The roar of the storm was fading, the silence that pulsed from the hole the most terrifying thing Brick had ever heard. Everything was wrong here, time seemed to be breaking, everything slowing down as it circled the drain.

It wasn’t death in there, it could never be anything so simple. It was eternity, infinity, an ageless gulf of nothing that he would never, ever be able to escape. It was a black hole, a pinprick in reality that would devour everything, that would eat and eat and eat until there was nothing left.

‘No!’ he shouted, the angel’s voice swallowed up without so much as a tremor, as if he had been muted. Brick shrieked, his arms cartwheeling, his stunted wing flapping. He managed to flip himself over, looking back the way he’d come, the walls of the tunnel corkscrewing relentlessly, dragging more and more of the world towards its end. There was something else up there, a flicker of fire against the madness.
Oh God please please please,
Brick said. The shape grew closer, exploding through chunks of floating debris. It had to be Daisy, or Cal,
it has to be, please God.

Come out come out wherever you are,
said Rilke, and Brick felt his heart sink into his feet. She swept towards him, her wings opening at the last second, like a dragon’s. She gazed at him with the molten pools of her eyes, grinning. That third eye still blazed in her forehead, the one he’d made, gunks of fire dropping from it as if her brain was melting.

There you are,
she said.
I found you.

Please, Rilke,
Brick said. The contrast of silence in one ear and thunder in the other was making him feel sick.
Please, help me, pull me free.

Rilke cocked her head, her grid sliding away, slack and loose.

Help you?
she said, her voice scratching across the surface of his brain.
Why?

Because I’m dying!
he yelled, clawing at the air, trying to reach her.
It’s going to kill me!

But you killed me,
she said, beating her wings to fight the current of air.
You snapped me in half, now Mother will be furious.

I’m sorry,
he said. She was mad, she was broken.
I’m sorry, Rilke, I didn’t mean to.

And Schiller, you broke him too.

No, I didn’t!
he said, feeling himself slip closer to the hole. He felt as if he was being stretched, as if he would be pulled into ribbons.
I didn’t, it was him, the man in the storm. You have to believe me.

No, it was you, the boy with wings,
she said, studying him with those blazing orbs.

No, I . . . I don’t have wings,
he shouted, trying to twist around, to show her his back.
It wasn’t me, look. How could it be me?

She frowned, the hum of their angels making the whole tunnel shake.

He broke me too,
Brick stuttered.
The man with wings, with huge wings. He’s broken me, and now he wants to kill me. We have to fight him, Rilke, together, please.

Where is he?
Rilke said, flying closer, almost close enough for him to touch. He reached out, not with his arms but with his mind, trying to latch on to her, to anchor himself, but he couldn’t work out how.

We’re inside him,
he said.
He’s trying to eat us.

Don’t be silly, Schill,
she said, giggling.
He can’t eat us.

He will,
Brick said. Bolts of white light were detonating in his vision, fireworks. His fire was fading, fast. His angel was dying.
He hates us, he’s going to break us all, unless we fight back. Please, Rilke, don’t let me die. I’m . . . I’m your brother.

Schiller?
she said.
Is that you? I can’t see so well.

Brick felt something curl around his waist, an invisible tentacle that reeled him towards the burning girl. The black hole didn’t want to let him go, clinging on to every cell in his body. It was as if he was coming undone, a piece of paper in water, dissolving. Rilke hauled him in, back into the roar and thunder of the storm, and he fell against her, holding her as a child clings to a parent. She hugged him for a moment, then recoiled.

You’re not my brother,
she said, her voice as cold as the inferno around her.
You lied to me.

I am,
he said, praying she was crazy enough to believe him.
Don’t you recognise me, sister?

She looked lost, the fire of her eyes flickering as the busted gears of her mind clanked and shook and tried to turn. The storm trembled, clouds of debris spilling from the walls of the tunnel. An almighty groan rose up all around them, then another explosion, as though somebody was lobbing artillery shells at them. What the hell was going on out there?

Rilke, please, you have to get us out of here, before it’s too late.

Her whole body trembled, as if she was having a fit, great waves of energy pulsing from her. When it was over she grabbed him with the fingers of her mind, towing him along beside her as she pumped her wings and pulled away. The current attempted to suck them back but she was too strong, cutting a path upriver. All around them the storm shook, rocked by thunder. He could sense something, voices in his head – Daisy, Cal, the others too. Was it them? Were they attacking the storm?
Please please be true,
he thought as the clouds parted ahead, a shaft of weak, murky sunlight trickling through.

That’s it, sis, you’re beating him.

She stopped, spinning him round in the air, her eyes blazing.

You’re not him,
she said.
You’re not Schiller.

He tried to squirm loose, wondering if his angel needed its wings to transport, whether he could just burn himself back to the ground the way he’d done before. Rilke’s invisible fingers were like iron rods in his ribs, anchoring him to her.

Don’t you dare!
Her shriek pummelled his brain, her grip on him growing stronger. He slapped at it with his hands but there was nothing there to fight. His fire burned, but nowhere near as bright as Rilke’s.
It is you, I knew it, you lied to me, you broke him, you broke us both.

Brick lashed out, an arrow of translucent flame slicing into the girl. Her psychic hold on him loosened and he peeled open the world, ready to flee into the absence there.

The man in the storm bellowed. Something was happening, black lightning bursting from the walls, churning up the smoke. Then the world disintegrated around Brick, his scream guttering out as he was blasted into atoms and sucked into the void.

‘We can’t let him get away!’ Cal’s yell boomed across the deserted land, vibrating over Daisy as the agitated air rushed into the space where the man in the storm had just been. The sky was full of flakes of smouldering ash. Past them, though, the sun was starting to break through the thinning clouds. Its light spread almost nervously across the blackened earth, as if it was studying the damage that had been caused, feeling for survivors. There were none. How could there be? From up here in the sky Daisy could see for miles in every direction, every scrap of life scrubbed away by the beast.

The pit was still growing, straining against the flood of seawater that cascaded into it. Huge sections of land crumbled into the growing void. She wondered if the man in the storm had moved back underground, but she couldn’t sense him there. No, it was more like he’d carved away so much of the world that it couldn’t hold itself up any more.

She could sense him, though, a long way away from here. He had left a trail in the air, one that vanished in mid-air, a bit like a mouse’s tail beneath a rug. If she lifted up the world there she’d be able to see where he’d gone.

Cal flew to her side. Howie and Marcus were there too, scanning the horizon. She looked down, panicking when she couldn’t see Adam. The blast of relief when he hovered up behind her almost made her cry. She wrapped her arms around him for a second, the air between them sparking in protest, then let him go.

I’m okay,
she said.
I’m fine. We scared him, Cal, we must have done to make him run away like that.

Guy’s a chicken,
said Howie.

Come on,
said Cal,
before he has a chance to recover.

He didn’t wait for her this time, his body exploding into incandescent dust. Daisy followed, using her mind to lift up the carpet, chasing the mouse’s tail into the emptiness there. It was as though she’d been able to do this all her life, as natural as walking. A heartbeat later the world shaped itself around them with a protest of cracks and rumbles. The embers tore free from the dispossessed air – that’s what they were, she realised, the parts of the world that were burned away to make room for the angels. Through them she saw the beast. He was hanging over another city, this one like something out of a fairy tale, full of old buildings and towers. A huge, dirty-looking river wound through it. There were people there, thousands of them, all staring and screaming at the storm, and the thing that lived in it.

Cal was a speck of flame against the brooding night, his angel’s voice punching into it, echoing across the city below.

Daisy hurled herself after him, feeling the others by her side. Even Adam was there this time – she understood that he didn’t want to be by himself. The turbine of the beast’s mouth was starting up again, the buildings below starting to disintegrate, rising in pieces. The river was like an upturned rainstorm, draining against gravity. The people, too, were being sucked up, just like those ants in the Hoover. Daisy reached out for them with her mind, trying to hold them down, but there were too many, too fragile, and they came to pieces under her touch.
I’m sorry,
she said, the horror of it swelling inside her tummy, her chest.

Focus, Daisy,
said Cal.
Switch your emotions off.

She tried, swallowing them down. Opening her mouth, she unleashed a cry that tore through the clouds, slicing into the man’s face. Cal was attacking the eyes again, Marcus and Howie unleashing shot after shot at the tattered remains of the monster’s body. The wind was a fist, grabbing them and shaking them as it swept into the cavernous mouth. It took everything she had not to be carried away by it.

The beast was fighting back, vomiting more of that horrible black lightning. The air was alive with it, none of the bolts coming close. Most were hitting the ground, blowing up like bombs, reducing the city to rubble. That endless breath was a howling cry, full of rage, so loud that it made every bone in her body tremble.

We’re winning,
she said, clamping down on the rush of excitement and relief, forcing herself to stay calm.
Keep firing!

They didn’t need her to tell them. Cal had pretty much demolished the beast’s face, chunks of dark matter pulling loose from its eyes, sucked into its mouth. It seemed to be rebuilding itself, though, smoke filling the gaps and solidifying there. Daisy burned through the sky, letting her angel speak. The word was like a giant bullet cracking open the storm’s skull, the force of it knocking her back. She flipped in mid-air, feeling another attack bubble up her throat and out of her mouth. There were so many explosions detonating against the storm that the man was more fire than smoke. There was no way he could survive much more of this, no
way.

And yet his fury was growing, boiling from him in huge, black waves, healing the wounds they made. She loosed another cry and this one was met by a whipcrack of utter darkness, the two forces crackling as they cancelled each other out. It was using the lightning to block Cal’s cries too, like a force field.

Daisy dived, avoiding a finger of inverse light that snapped out to meet her. The ground rushed up, close enough for her to see the ruined city, the stains that had once been people. She turned at the last minute, the earth beneath her exploding as the man in the storm lashed out again. She pumped her wings, hurtling up through the roiling smoke, pausing when she saw a burst of fire
inside
the beast’s mouth. The man in the storm howled again, that awful, inward, sucking cry. Something was happening in there.

Brick,
she realised, sensing him, and as soon as she called his name she heard his reply, a brittle scream for help. More fire from inside, as though the man in the storm had swallowed a swarm of fireflies.

Help me!
Brick yelled, his voice like distant thunder inside her head.

You hear that?
Cal said, appearing beside her. He looked exhausted but his angel burned fiercely.
That’s Brick.

Daisy lurched away from him as another sliver of lightning slashed the air between them. Cal opened his mouth and fired a word at it, the sound disappearing into the clouds around the beast, not even leaving a scar.

It’s not working,
he said.
It’s too strong.

He was right, they were hurting it but not killing it, like wasps stinging the hide of an elephant. But they were doing everything they could, weren’t they? Switching off their emotions, giving the angels everything they needed. What was she missing? What were they doing wrong?

Over the howl of the storm she heard Brick shout again.

What’s he doing in there?
Cal asked.

Daisy didn’t know, only that he wasn’t alone. Cal shook his head and she heard him call out,
I’m coming, Brick, hang on!

Wait, Cal!

She chased after him. Before she could reach him, though, the world grew dark.

Before she could reach it, though, the world grew dark. A fist of smoke swung out from the storm, so big that it blotted out the last of the sunlight. Daisy screamed, burning herself out of the world before the smoke could hit her. She fizzled back into existence on the other side of the storm, the sudden shift of perspective making her dizzy. That immense bulk of darkness was dropping towards the ruined city, as though somebody was pouring a billion gallons of oil from the sky. Cal swept out of the way with Adam, Howie bursting into embers as he fled.

Marcus wasn’t so lucky. He looked up too late, loosed a cry that vanished in the smoke. Then it hit him, punching him into the ground, the fist bigger than the city that had once stood there. It didn’t stop, funnelling into the earth, pushing the boy deeper and deeper with a series of booming cracks. Daisy called out his name, but there was only a gaping absence where the boy’s thoughts had once been.

No!
She lifted herself up, the anger like a living thing inside her. She opened her mouth and this time the cry that broke free was powerful enough to blister the air, carving a path of fire right into the heart of the storm. There was a second where she thought her attack had died away, then an explosion detonated inside the beast, as if an atomic bomb had gone off. Huge clouds of gunk jettisoned from the sky, trails of poisonous smoke trailing earthwards.

She reached out with her mind, slicing into the wound she had made, grabbing anything she could find in there and ripping it out. Her angel’s invisible hands wrenched and mauled, the beast above her bellowing like a million wounded bulls. The rage boiled inside her and this time she didn’t hold it back, letting it fuel her.

Oh God,
she thought. She’d been wrong, so wrong. They weren’t supposed to hide their emotions, they were supposed to
use
them.

She unlocked the door she’d closed against them, a hundred different feelings sluicing up inside her. It was like a volcano, the fire raging, spewing out of her. She cried out again and the whole sky seemed to shake. The hole it punched in the storm was huge and perfectly round, daylight pouring through it. The beast groaned, flexing its wings, a forest of lightning sprouting from its tattered flesh. It was going to vanish again.

It swept its wings down, blasting out a wave of dust. But it didn’t disappear. Instead it lifted itself up, rising slowly, gaining speed with each clumsy stroke.

Where is it going?
she asked, sensing Cal swoop up beside her. A rain of dust and ash was falling, like black snow.

It’s running,
Cal said, smiling.
Let’s get this bastard.