Night School: Legacy

When he smiled, he looked so much like the boy Allie remembered it almost made her cry. The older brother who always made her feel safe. The one who always looked out for her.

‘Eventually, you’ll see what I mean about all of this. Nathaniel is a good guy.’ Her disbelief must have shown in her face because he added quickly, ‘I know he’s had to do things … It was hard for him, too. But this is a war, Allie. And he’s right about the organisation.’

‘What do you mean?’ She kept her voice light and conversational. ‘At least tell me something, here. What does he want to do?’

‘Oh, Al.’ His eyes shone with passion. ‘He’s going to change everything. Fix all the things that have gone wrong in the world because the wrong people are in charge. Put the right people in charge. You know what Cimmeria is, right? I mean, what it’s part of? If he ran the organisation, he could really do it, Allie. He could change everything. Fix everything.’

Allie didn’t understand what he was talking about. Change everything? Fix everything?

But Christopher was looking over his shoulder again and she got the impression someone was speaking to him, quietly. When he turned back, he looked almost sad.

‘God I’ve missed you, Allie-cat.’ From across the water, he studied her face as if he were memorising it. ‘Sometimes I thought I’d never see you again but here we both are.’

‘Yep.’ Allie fought to stay in control as her lower lip trembled. ‘Here we are.’

‘Hey,’ he said with sudden brightness, ‘remember that time I taught you to ride your bike and I forgot to show you how to use the brakes before letting you go?’

‘I went careening down the pavement in front of the house and crashed into the postman’s cart.’ For just a second, Allie smiled at the memory. ‘Letters flew everywhere.’

‘He was furious,’ Chris chuckled. ‘He went to Mum and Dad and …’

The mention of their parents seemed to bring him back to reality and his smile evaporated. He took a step back from the water’s edge. ‘I have to go now, Al. Take the same path back that you took down here and you’ll be clear of Patel’s guards.’

How can he be so sure of that?

He held up his hand. ‘Goodbye, Allie. And don’t worry – we’ll be keeping an eye on you. We’ve got someone on the inside.’

‘Who?’ she called after him.

But he was already disappearing into the trees.


As she made her way back up the rocky trail to the churchyard (thirty-three steps) she moved with mechanical efficiency. But while she pushed her way through branches her brain fought to make sense of what had just happened.

‘You know what Cimmeria is? What it’s part of.’ When he’d said that his eyes had fairly glowed with excitement. She needed to talk this over with somebody. But who? Nobody knew she was here. She couldn’t tell Rachel or Carter – not without word getting back to Isabelle.

And then Sylvain would be in trouble.

She’d almost made it to the main footpath. She was stepping around a large branch half blocking her way when a shape hurtled out of the woods, hitting her so hard she went sprawling, winded. Then, before she could recover, he wrapped her in his arms and dragged her into the forest.

It happened so fast there was no time to react. No time even to scream. No time for a neck lock or a defensive left flip. Just one minute she was walking on the path. And the next she was gone.





NINETEEN





Allie was half dragged through the trees by someone she couldn’t see – a muscular arm was tight across her chest, a strong hand held her brutally by the upper arm and hair. Her feet barely skimmed the ground and she was immobilised – she could neither move her arms nor grab on to anything. Because he was behind her, she couldn’t see her kidnapper but she could feel the hardness of his torso against her back, smell his sweat, hear his harsh breathing.

Rising panic made it hard for her to focus.

Come on, Allie. Think! What would Mr Patel have told her to do?

But fear seemed to have rendered her brain inoperable. Her own breath had shortened to gasps. When she struggled, the arms around her tightened to the point where she thought her ribcage would crack.

‘Your body is a weapon,’ Mr Patel always said. ‘Use it.’

But how could she when she couldn’t move? Her arms were held tight, her legs …

Her breath caught as she realised: her legs were free. And her kidnapper’s most vulnerable point was right behind her thighs.

He probably had help somewhere nearby, she needed to act fast.

Saying a silent prayer, she lifted her legs up, forcing her kidnapper to shift as she curled into a ball against his torso. He grunted in surprise but before he could react she’d swung backwards, aiming the soles of her shoes at his crotch.