Night School: Legacy

Soon the voices faded into silence.

The night was clear – a full moon turned the forest into shades of blue as she hurtled down the footpath.

She didn’t know where she was going or why she was running, but she knew she couldn’t stop. Her breathing was ragged – her lungs burned. Still she ran.

Then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw something move through the trees.

It seemed to flit, like a bird, but she knew it wasn’t a bird. She stopped, effortlessly.

‘Who’s there?’ she called into the darkness then gasped when she saw someone move again. Just slow enough to be seen. Just fast enough not to be recognised.

‘This isn’t funny,’ she called out. She’d begun to tremble. Something wasn’t right. It wasn’t right at all. Where was she going anyway? And why was she outside so late at night?

Suddenly, from behind her, a low, threatening growl.


With a muffled scream Allie sat bolt upright in bed. Clutching the covers to her neck, she looked around the dark room in panic. At first she was disoriented. The room wasn’t familiar. Nothing was where it should be.

Then she remembered.

‘Cimmeria,’ she murmured, lying down again. ‘I’m at Cimmeria.’ She closed her eyes. ‘I’m safe.’


After rushing through breakfast the next morning, Allie made an excuse to Jo and headed to the library in search of Rachel. She had to make up with her. Fighting with Rachel was absolutely not on the agenda for the first week back at school.

Just inside the library door, painters were setting up a metal forest of ladders with a clamour. Big cans of paint and fluffy pale blue rollers leaned about like fallen trees; the air already had the acrid petrol smell of white spirits.

Hurrying past them, she made her way down the long room. A wide metal table had been set up along the back wall where Eloise and Rachel were filling cardboard boxes with books. Each layer of books was separated by sheets of crisp tissue paper, and they nestled the heavy old leather tomes in as if they were fragile pieces of crystal.

Pushing her glasses back up her nose, Eloise looked at her enquiringly.

‘Can I talk to Rachel for a minute?’ Allie asked.

Eloise glanced back and forth between them; Rachel avoided Allie’s eyes. With a sympathetic look, the librarian slid a box across the table.

‘Why don’t you two take this out to the truck together? It’s too heavy for one person alone.’

With Allie holding one end of the box and Rachel the other, they manoeuvred through the bookcases to the back door. Outside, a white van waited, its back doors open. The driver stood a few feet away talking into a mobile phone. He paid no attention to them.

The damp morning air left a sheen of moisture on Allie’s skin, like oil on water. It was quiet and grey, the only sound the crunching of their feet on the gravel drive and the driver’s noncommittal, monotone voice as they slid the box on top of another just like it in the back of the van.

‘I’m sorry,’ Allie said suddenly. ‘I didn’t think about how you might feel about … anything. I was just being selfish and …’

Relief filled Rachel’s eyes and her words flooded out in a rush. ‘Me too. You have to do what’s right for you. I can’t expect you to be me.’

‘It’s just …’ Allie drew a line in the grey gravel with her toe. ‘I really have to do this, Rach. Not because I believe in what it all stands for, but because of what I’ll learn. I’ll be able to protect myself. I’ll find out more about my family if I’m on the inside. They won’t be able to hide things from me any more. Maybe I’ll find out what happened to Christopher, because I think they know and they’re not telling me. Can you see my side of this?’

‘I can.’

But Allie could hear the reluctance in Rachel’s tone.

‘I just wish there was another way … for your sake. Because I think you’ll get more than you bargained for once you’re inside, Allie.’

Out of the corner of her eye Allie checked on the driver. He was still talking on his phone.

Seeing her glance, Rachel tilted her head towards the door. As they headed back inside she changed the subject. ‘Are you working with Jo again today?’

‘Painting.’ Allie nodded. ‘Because I’m serious about my art.’

Rachel snorted, but her expression was serious. ‘How is she, do you think?’

Allie thought about Jo laughing and scrubbing walls yesterday. ‘Better than I expected. She’s sort of … fine, I guess.’

‘A little too fine, maybe?’ As soon as Rachel said the words, Allie realised she was right.