Fractured A Slated Novel

Chapter NINE



* * *





‘Stupid move, Rain.’ Nico hoists Tori into the back of his car. ‘What am I supposed to do with her?’

I don’t answer, shying away from thinking what he may come up with. I climb into the front seat next to Nico, exhausted from the effort of half dragging, half cajoling a semi-conscious Tori up the footpath in the dark to this, the first lane crossing. The hastily arranged meeting point.

‘Thank you, Nico,’ I say, and every bit of me means it. The relief to see his face was so strong when he arrived, I’d wanted to throw myself in his arms. But he wasn’t in a hugging mood.

His car purrs up the lane. It looks average, but the engine is something more. He keeps a careful eye out when we get to a main road. What explanation could we have if spotted, a now unconscious Tori in the back? We’d have to run for it.

‘You reek of smoke.’

‘Do I? What time is it?’

‘Nearly five.’

‘I’ve got to get home soon, or I’ll get caught. Mum gets up early.’

‘Not smelling like that.’

He drives fast. Tori whimpers, then is quiet again. We get to a dark house with a drive down the side to the back. On a hill, no neighbours nearby.

He carries her over his shoulder into the house. I follow. It is small, modern, neat. Not your usual Free UK hidey-hole.

‘Your place?’ I say, surprised.

He glares. ‘No time to take her anywhere else.’

He puts Tori on the couch. Pulls heavy curtains across the windows before turning on a lamp.

That is when I really see the state of her. Thin colourful clothes in tatters, as if she’d set out to a party, not gone hiking in this cold. Covered in scratches, bruises. One ankle so swollen it is a miracle she could walk at all.

She stirs; her eyes flutter part open, then all the way when they take in Nico. She sits up, panic on her face.

I grab her hand.

‘Tori, it’s okay. This is…’ And I pause, not sure what name he wants to use. ‘My friend. He’s going to look after you.’

Nico comes over, smiles. ‘Hello. Tori, is it? I’m John Hatten. I need to ask you a few questions.’

‘Can’t this wait?’ I say, voice low.

‘I’m afraid not. I’m sorry, Tori. But you can see what a risk I take for you. I need to know your story well enough to know what to do with you.’

My blood runs cold. One wrong word, and what he does with her could be permanent.

‘Well, Tori?’ he prompts, voice gentle.

She studies her hands, turning them side to side like they are unfamiliar, disconnected to her. ‘I killed him,’ she says in a low voice. ‘With a knife.’

‘Who?’

‘A Lorder. I killed him, and I ran away.’

She closes her eyes.

‘You’re safe here. Rest, Tori,’ he says. Tori’s head lolls to one side: out again.

Nico raises an eyebrow at me. She couldn’t have found anything more right to say if I’d coached her. He probably wonders if I did.

‘Go, take a fast shower. I’ll look after her. But you owe me, Rain. Big time. This is a huge risk, an unnecessary complication that could interfere with our plans. Now, go.’

I run for the shower, grab the towel and nondescript dark T-shirt and bicycle shorts he chucks at me. Our plans? Does he mean Free UK plans, ones that somehow involve me? I wash and dry my hair as fast as possible, part of me noting things about Nico. I’ve never been in his personal space before. He likes nice shower gel, soap: it smells like him, and I can’t stop myself from breathing it in deep. He has a hairdryer? His hair always looks good, but still. I stifle a smile, suddenly terrified that while I’ve been admiring his designer bathroom, Nico’s version of looking after Tori might mean ending her life painlessly instead of otherwise.

But when I emerge, he’s wrapped her in a blanket. It rises and falls slightly with her breath. She is in a deep sleep.

‘Come on,’ he says. ‘I’ll run you back.’

‘What if she wakes while we’re gone?’

‘She won’t.’

We are on our way up the road before I dare ask. ‘How do you know she won’t wake up?’

‘I gave her a shot. She won’t.’

‘A shot?’

‘Don’t look so alarmed. It was just sedative and painkiller, both of which will help her.’ He curses under his breath. ‘If this goes horribly wrong, it is on your neck, Rain.’

‘I’m sorry,’ I say. My breath catches inside: both distressed to be the cause of Nico’s unhappiness, and scared of it, all at once.

‘By the way, I thought you said she was Slated.’

‘She is.’

‘Well, she hasn’t got a Levo.’

I gasp with shock, and think back. I held her hand, helped her walk. I didn’t even notice. I had other things to worry about. And I’ve got so used to being able to ignore my own levels, I didn’t think about hers. But with what she has been through tonight, and before tonight by the sounds of things, it would have been enough to make her black out for sure if she still had one.

‘What happened to it?’ I say.

‘Just one of many questions she will have to answer soon. And I have some things to discuss with you. But first, tell me about the fire,’ he says.

I blink at the sudden tears. ‘Ben’s house: his parents’ house. It burned down. Tori watched. She said they were inside, screaming, but Lorders stopped anyone from helping.’

He shakes his head. ‘Think, Rain: what is the date?’

‘November fifth.’

‘The fifth of November. Guy Fawkes,’ he says, bitterly. ‘This was not the only burning tonight. Reports were coming in when you called. Lorders have taken this day that used to belong to us. Remember, Rain. Mark this day.’

I gasp as a series of images flood my mind. Fireworks. Raids. Bonfires! Guy Fawkes: over four hundred years ago, there had been a plot to blow up Parliament. We had used the day to remind the Lorders that their power was not absolute. To remind the people they had a voice.

Now the Lorders used it to remind us that Guy Fawkes was hanged for his trouble.

‘To think they dare act so openly against the people they should serve! Things are getting worse, Kyla. The Lorder grip is tightening. Soon none will dare stand with us against them. The time of reckoning is nearly at hand.’ He stops at the bottom of our road. ‘You need to keep your eye on the bigger picture, Rain. We’ll talk about this some more after school tomorrow. Now go.’

I get out of the car and slip into the shadows, along the houses, taking care. It is still dark, but close enough to six now that people may be awake. Eyebrows would definitely go up if anyone spotted me creeping about dressed like this. But I see no one. When I reach our garden, something catches my eye: a movement over the road? I hug the side of the house and look back, but can see nothing. Yet I’m sure something moved.

I slip through the side door, then go quiet and careful up the stairs to my room: safe, at last.

For now.

Sebastian is curled up on my bed, eyes open wide. I change out of Nico’s things quickly and into my pyjamas, then stuff his clothes into my school bag to get rid of later.

There is just enough time for about an hour of sleep, sleep which I desperately need, but there is no chance. Not with fires raging in my mind.

The night is full of questions. How did Tori get away from the Lorders? She’d been returned to them: Ben got that out of her mum. Why, we didn’t really know – she was there one day, then gone. One of the missing. What happened to her Levo?

What happened to Ben’s parents I don’t need to phrase as a question: I know the answer. They asked too many annoying questions of their own. The Lorders happened to them, that’s what. And this, the night after Ben’s mum came here to ask for help. My blood turns to ice when I remember what Mum said to her: ‘You shouldn’t have come here.’ Did Mum turn her in to the Lorders? Her dad was the Lorder Prime Minister who started it all.

I can’t get the sight of their destroyed house out of my mind. Their home became their tomb. Will they get the bodies out? They’ve already been cremated.

According to Nico, a picture that has repeated itself in other places this night. Other victims.

I want to cry for them, but I can’t. All I feel inside is cold, blind rage at what has been done. It pushes all the hurt aside.

It wants out.