Chapter 20
‘Oh. My. God.’
Evie should have prepared herself. Should have prepared Cyrus for this.
The waitress Darcy – the tall, skinny one with the braids – was standing in the middle of the café, with a heavily laden tray balanced precariously on one hand, staring at Cyrus as if, well, as if he was Lazarus risen from the dead.
‘Cyrus!’ the waitress screeched, launching herself towards them, the coffee on her tray splashing all over the floor and a customer’s lap.
‘Do I know her?’ Cyrus murmured under his breath.
‘Yes,’ Evie said.
‘What’s her name?’ Cyrus asked, masking the question behind a cough.
‘Darcy. But don’t worry, you never remembered it anyway.’
‘Oh my god, you’re alive! You’re alive!’ Darcy said, dropping her tray on the nearest table and throwing herself on Cyrus.
Evie glanced around at the customers who were all now staring at them.
‘Your mother said that you’d been in an accident,’ Darcy spluttered.
Evie stepped quickly between them, breaking Darcy’s grip on Cyrus. ‘Yeah, well, it was all a mistake. He’s actually alive as you can see,’ she said.
Darcy looked between them, the cogs turning slowly, ever so slowly. ‘Does she know?’ she suddenly gasped. ‘Your mum? Oh my god, you so have to tell her!’
Vero rolled her eyes. ‘Good idea, we hadn’t thought of that.’
Darcy frowned at her, and Evie took the opportunity to tug Cyrus towards the door at the back of the store.
‘So, um, do you like, maybe want to get together later?’ Darcy shouted after them.
Cyrus stopped and turned to the girl. He looked awkward, like he didn’t know what he was supposed to say, ‘Er, he began, shooting a nervous, pleading glance Evie’s way.
Evie shrugged as nonchalantly as possible.
‘Maybe?’ Cyrus said. ‘I’ll call you? I have your number, right?’
‘Yeah, like I messaged you maybe a thousand times.’
‘Great,’ Cyrus said through a fixed grin. ‘Speak to you later then.’
He turned back to Evie. ‘Did I date her?’ he asked under his breath.
‘If you want to call it that,’ Evie answered, holding the door to the stairwell open for him.
They climbed the stairs and knocked. And waited. It was the same as the day before. They heard a slow, shuffling gait on the other side. The door cracked open an inch and Margaret’s tired face appeared in the gap. She stared at them vacantly, her eyes passing over Cyrus and fixing on Evie before she did a double take and tracked back to Cyrus. Her jaw dropped and the door fell open.
‘Mum?’ Cyrus asked, cutting his eyes in Evie’s direction to check that this was indeed his mother.
Evie nodded. Margaret gaped at Cyrus, her bottom lip trembling. She looked like she was on the verge of collapsing and Evie inched forward just in case she needed to catch her.
‘Mum,’ Cyrus said again, taking a step towards her, ‘it’s me.’
Margaret stared at him as if she wasn’t sure she wasn’t dreaming or imagining it and was too scared to move in case she shattered the illusion and he vanished.
‘Cyrus?’ she finally croaked.
He nodded.
Her face crumpled and she threw her arms around his neck with a sob, hugging him so fiercely that Cyrus looked in danger of toppling on top of her. Before he could right himself, she grabbed his face in her hands and started smothering him in kisses. Evie noticed Cyrus stiffen, his hands splayed at his side. He lifted one and gently patted Margaret on the back. Evie watched with a mixture of amusement and pity.
It had to be weird having a strange woman act hysterical over him. Someone needed to tell Margaret about his memory loss. She cleared her throat but Margaret didn’t notice. She was gazing rapt at Cyrus now, still clutching him, tears streaming down her face.
‘You’re alive,’ she kept repeating.
Evie cleared her throat again. ‘Mrs Locke,’ she said.
Margaret looked up startled. ‘Mrs Locke,’ Evie continued, ‘Cyrus has kind of lost his memory.’
Margaret blinked, confusion dulling her smile. The tears dried up. She switched her attention to Cyrus.
‘You don’t know who I am?’ she asked in a shaking voice.
Cyrus shook his head at her slowly. ‘I know you’re my mother. They told me you were.’
Margaret shot a glance over his shoulder at Evie. ‘Where did you find him? Where? How? Where’s he been all this time?’
‘We found him wandering near the Bradbury building. He’s been in hospital. But we’ve no idea what actually happened to him.’
Margaret’s hands slowly slipped from Cyrus’s arms.
‘You came back,’ she said in a whisper. ‘How did you come back?’
He shrugged in answer.
‘We thought you might have an idea,’ Ash said from his position leaning against the wall. ‘We’re getting nothing from him.’
Margaret stared at Ash blankly for a few seconds but then her gaze swept towards the pile of books on her desk. It was only a brief glance before she turned back to Ash.
‘I don’t know,’ she said. ‘Is the way through still shut? Did you check?’
‘Yes, we just went to the Bradbury building. It’s definitely closed.’
‘So maybe the prophecy was wrong?’ Vero added, her voice bright with hope. ‘Maybe it never meant that the White Light was going to die. Maybe it was just interpreted wrong?’
Margaret shrugged. ‘Maybe.’
‘Maybe?’ Evie asked, her eyes narrowing. ‘That suggests you have an alternative theory.’
Margaret looked up at her, suddenly flustered. ‘No, I don’t. I can’t think why. But I’m not going to question it either. My son’s back. That’s all I care about.’ Her attention returned to Cyrus.
‘Er, mum?’ Cyrus said, obviously finding the word strange to use on this woman he’d just met. ‘It’s not exactly over. There are more of these monsters – I mean unhumans – out there. These guys are trying to fight them.’
Margaret slumped against the desk, the happiness draining out of her like an arterial bleed. ‘Please no,’ she said simply.
Cyrus scanned the room. ‘But isn’t that what we are? Isn’t that what I was? A Hunter? Didn’t I do that? I don’t get what …’
‘I lost you once,’ Margaret said, taking hold of his hand, her voice breaking. ‘I can’t go through that again. I won’t.’
Cyrus stopped talking and bit his lip instead.
Evie stared between them. She hadn’t foreseen this and felt suddenly stupid. She wondered if she should intervene and say something but then she felt Vero nudging her in the ribs.
‘Come on, let’s go,’ she said.
Evie frowned at her. What? She looked back at Cyrus, who was busy scowling at the floor and at Margaret who was stroking his hair off his forehead and gazing at him in adoration, and she realised with a shock that Vero was right. Of course they needed to leave Cyrus here. What had she been thinking? They had no right to ask Cyrus to join them. Cyrus had given his life – or as good as. He couldn’t be expected to join them again in the fight. And neither did Margaret deserve to lose him for a second time. Not now she’d just got him back.
Evie nodded to Vero and the two of them backed off towards the door where Ash was already waiting. At the top of the stairs, Evie cast one quick glance back over her shoulder. Margaret had pulled Cyrus into another fierce hug and this time he was hugging her back.
‘Bye,’ Evie whispered, her throat burning.
They were in the car, pulling into traffic when a fist landed hard on the hood. Vero slammed on the brakes. A car behind them honked.
Cyrus stood panting, hunched over the front of the car, glaring at them. He raced around to the back passenger side, yanked the door open and piled in beside Evie.
‘I’m coming with you,’ he told them, breathlessly.
The three of them exchanged a glance and then, without a word but with a big grin on her face, Vero stepped on the gas and sped off.