Fallout Page 5

  “Patrick?” No answer. I moved deeper into the cells.

  A scuffling sound to my left nearly made me jump out of my skin. I spun around. There he is. His little blond head just visible in the dull candlelight, Patrick was turned away from me, toward the blank rock face before him.

  “Patrick,” I said with a shaky laugh. “We’ve been looking for you.”

  He didn’t respond for a long moment, so long I started to wonder if he was upset. Playing a weird game, maybe? His stillness made my skin prickle. At last he turned his head and looked at my candle, followed by my shoes, and then spoke.

  “Wall. Talk.”

  That was when I realised we were standing in the chamber. The same chamber in which I’d heard voices a few days before.

  ****

  Jude took Helen and Patrick home for me. He knew I liked to stay behind with Cain.

  “I can see something’s wrong,” Cain said to me as soon as Owen’s car, the last remaining, left the gravel clearing. “Did something happen tonight?”

  “Not really. But sort of.”

  He laughed. “Which is it?”

  I chewed my lip, trying to work out how to explain that moment with Patrick. His words still resounded in my head: Wall. Talk.

  “Come on.” Cain took my hand and we went back down the ladder into the chamber, closing the door behind us. “First,” he said, cupping my cheeks with his hands, “I really need to kiss you.”

  He brought his lips to mine and my arms found their way around his neck. Everything I’d been thinking about temporarily drained out of my mind. Cain’s kisses were always exquisitely tender, transporting me right back to that first time. This sensation couldn’t be normal. It had to have something to do with the gift he had. Gently, torturously gently, his tongue touched mine, exploring while he ran his hands along my skin. Then his mouth went lower, down onto my neck as he gripped my backside, pulling my hips close against him.

  “I thought you wanted to know what happened,” I laughed into his ear.

  He paused. “So something did happen?”

  “Just something Patrick said.”

  That reassured him it wasn’t anything critical and he went back to kissing along my shoulder. “Well?” he mumbled.

  “He said ‘Wall. Talk’.”

  “Huh?” Cain’s hand slipped inside my jeans and skin made contact with skin. I lost the power of speech and moaned into him. “Holy fuck, Francesca, I love it when you make that sound,” he whispered against my hair.

  The desire to have this conversation vanished as he pushed me back onto a mattress. Sex with Cain always made me forget who I was, forget I was Francesca Caravaggio, preacher’s daughter. Straight, organised little Frankie from Augur’s Well. It unleashed a desperate need for a connection with him that stripped away my inhibitions. Even if I’d been able to control them, knowing how much he loved to fire my reactions was enough to make me let go. Somewhere deep in my soul I knew Cain was the only one who would ever have this part of me.

  We were hours tangled up together that night. I sighed inwardly when I thought about my early start at college the next day. Oh, well. I would have slept, exhausted, but Cain couldn’t take his hands off my body. He lay stretched out beside me, using his fingers and lips to explore my skin while I blinked long, sleepy blinks in the candlelight.

  “I heard something in one of the rooms,” I murmured.

  His hand stopped. “Here?”

  “Mm. It sounded like voices. But I thought I was just being stupid.”

  “You’re never stupid.”

  I met his dark brown eyes and smiled. Dear God, I love this man. “I couldn’t make out what the voices said. It was creepy. I wasn’t even sure I heard it afterwards. But tonight when I found Patrick in the room where I heard them, he said, ‘Wall. Talk’.”

  Cain’s brow creased. “That’s ... strange.”

  “Maybe this place is haunted?” My voice sounded small in the dim quiet of the room.

  “Do you believe in ghosts?”

  I burst into laughter. “I believe in everything now, Cain Aleister.”

  His face relaxed into a smile. “Oh, hey, our date,” he said as though suddenly remembering. “It’s happening. Lunch. When are you free? And I mean really free. I want you all afternoon.”

  “Uh, let me see. Saturday?”

  “Saturday it is.”

  I twisted my head back to kiss him and caught sight of the old needle scars in the crook of the arm stretched around me. He saw me looking and pulled his arm back awkwardly.

  “Will you ever tell me about that?” I asked.

  He hid his eyes by ducking his head to kiss me again, burying his face in my hair. “Yeah, one day,” he murmured. “It’s all over now. I promise.”

  “I wouldn’t have thought anything else, Cain.”

  He met my eyes again. “You’re too good for me,” he said and I was startled by the sobriety of his expression.

  ****

  On the bus home from college the next day a text message arrived from Helen.

  Hey Frankie. What time are you going tonight? Could I possibly catch another lift? Mum’s still in hospital and Gran’s going to sit with her. xx

  Sure. Is Patrick coming again?

  Yes, if that’s okay?

  No problem.

  Poor kid, being dragged along two nights running, probably past his bedtime, too. I would suggest tonight that we wind things up early so we could all go home at a reasonable hour.

  We went through the same rituals when I collected Helen and Patrick: the sunglasses, the seatbelt, the headphones, and Buzzy Bees.

  “How was Patrick this morning?” I asked. “Tired?”

  “He seemed okay.”

  “And how’s your mum going?”

  “A little better, I think,” she said, but she didn’t look particularly cheery as she spoke.

  “How often does this happen, where she needs to go into hospital?”

  Helen stared out the window. “Every few months, sometimes more.” It was plain she didn’t want to talk about it this time. I concentrated on driving, feeling bad for her.

  “How was class today?”

  “Yeah, it was okay. We’re doing the Greeks in Ancient History. Some cultural stuff, gods and goddesses, art and architecture. It’s pretty interesting.”

  “That sounds awesome.”

  There was a tightness in her voice. Envy, I realised.

  “Hey,” she said after a couple of minutes of silence. “This Market Lake thing, I keep thinking about it. How many of these rescues have you been at?”

  “A couple now.”

  “Is it scary? Exciting?”

  “Yes, a bit of both,” I said with a laugh. “I try to stay out of the way.”

  “It must be strange, being the only one who isn’t …” She trailed off.

  “Special?” I kept my eyes on the road, swallowing my indignation.

  There was an awkward pause. “How did you find them?” she asked. “I mean, Cain recognised our faces but how did you become part of the group? You and Cain haven’t been together very long, have you? It’s not like you were already together when the meetings started. You can’t have been. You were still touring with your dad.”

  “Jude brought me.”

  I felt her stare. “He just brought you along one night? Without Cain’s permission?”

  Humiliated, I didn’t answer. She shook her head.

  “Wow. I can’t imagine any of us just bringing a friend along. I mean, what if you’d told people about us? It was lucky you’re so trustworthy. Was Cain pissed at him? Did he get into trouble?”

  “It was a difficult time,” I managed. “I don’t know if he got into trouble but it was kind of messy for a while.”

  “You were dating Jude for a while earlier this year, right?”

  “Not dating, really.”

  “That was what everyone was saying. Was that when he brought you along?” A hint of amusement crept int
o her voice. “Oh, I see what you mean by ‘messy.’ You and Jude, you and Cain.”

  Her blunt remarks fired my resentment again. “Jude and I were never anything official. We weren’t dating when I started seeing Cain.” This was an extremely shaky version of the truth but the reality wasn’t something Helen would understand. No one understood how deep the love ran between me and Cain.

  “Oh, okay.” She checked on Patrick. “Still. Must be weird being the only normal one.” She laughed again while my cheeks heated up. I had to find a way to change the topic.

  “Does Patrick play phone games all the time?”

  “Yeah, it’s his thing. We have two old smartphones we alternate. Charge one, use the other, and so on. He’s not allowed to do it at school, of course, but he spends most of his waking hours playing arcade games. It seems to relax him.”

  “Are you sure he won’t take anything in while he’s at Gaunt House with us? Like, any of the stuff we talk about?”

  “No way. Even if he’s not focused on his games, his mind just wanders. I’ve never known him to pay attention to anything that’s not said directly to him.”

  I had my doubts but she knew him best. A glance in my rear view mirror showed his little fair face reflected blue in the light from his screen, sunglasses on. I wondered what it would be like to function on a limited level of awareness like that.

  “Maybe you’ll still transform, Frankie,” Helen said, still stuck on the previous conversation. “You could be like us, after all. You never know.” She gave me an encouraging smile.

  I gritted my teeth and stared at the road. I guess she was wondering what it was like to have limited functioning, as well.

  ****

  “Got the exhibition tickets.” Albion bounced into my room as I packed my bag for college in the morning, waving an envelope at me.

  “Oh, yeah. The Ancient Celts, wasn’t it?”

  He deflated. “You don’t sound very excited.”

  “No, I’m looking forward to it. When is it?”

  “Saturday.”

  Ugh, dammit. There went my date with Cain. I made a mental note to reschedule to Sunday.

  “Daytime, Saturday?”

  “Yes, Frankie,” he sighed. “It’s bloody two o-bloody-clock in the bloody afternoon. So you don’t have to miss a moment with your precious lover.”

  “Good,” I said with a shameless grin. Just so he knew, I added, “Although this has messed up the date he was going to take me on.”

  Albion scoffed but then paused. “Really?”

  “Yes.”

  “He’s taking you out? Where?”

  “Nowhere now that I’ve realised I’m going to this exhibition. But he was going to take me to lunch on Saturday.”

  He eyed me doubtfully. “Did you arrange it?”

  That made me angry. “There is no one who shows me more love and consideration than Cain, you know. You’ve got him completely wrong. I don’t give a damn about whether he takes me to restaurants and movies or not.”

  “Spoken like a girl who never gets taken to restaurants or movies.”

  I rolled my eyes and left to catch my bus to campus. Traffic was bad and the bus came to a standstill as we approached the centre of town. I gazed absently out the window at one of the old buildings that lined the main road. It was a disused church, probably heritage, but left to crumble. Its walls were the same orange sandstone from which the settlers had built most of the original buildings in Augur’s Well. It triggered a memory of a dream from the night before. The hands dream again. How strange that I’d had it twice now. Possibly more than twice because the images sure seemed familiar in my head when I thought about them: bare hands pushing through a wall made of sand. Walls, again. Patrick’s words came back to me and I gave an involuntary shiver. I’d always found the cavern under Gaunt House a little creepy but now it was positively sinister. But maybe I was making connections where they weren’t. Albion had one of those dream interpretation books that told you what different symbols from your dreams meant. I would check out what it had to say about my dream when I got back home.

  At the end of the day I rushed to catch the early bus. I wanted to drive out to Gaunt House in time to see Cain alone before anyone else arrived but, to my annoyance, Albion had gone out and taken the car. I reconsidered my self-imposed rule never to let Uncle Max or Antonia, or even Albion, see me riding with Cain on his motorbike. I could ask him to pick me up. But if I bent that rule even once, news might find its way back to my father, and the last thing I needed was Dad weighing in as the protective parent or pushing me to re-join his book tour. The thought, once so desirable, had become repulsive. I’d lost a lot of faith in my father and what he did over the past few months. Plus, I had my own higher calling these days.

  I was forced to message Jude to ask him for a lift to Gaunt House. As I waited for him to finish work I searched the bookshelf for Albion’s dream book. It looked kind of hokey with the author, a wavy-haired blonde hippie woman, smiling serenely from the back cover. ‘Walls’ was between ‘walking’ and ‘wallowing.’

  A wall in dreams signifies an obstacle or barrier; something is obstructing your progress. You may feel stuck or limited. If you dream of breaking down a wall you may be longing for freedom and independence. If you see a wall crumble it may mean you have risen above your limitations and achieved a breakthrough. If you are pushed through a wall it suggests you need to break down the walls that have been placed around you by yourself or some other person.

  Hmm, okay. Next, I checked ‘hands.’

  Hands can represent authority, protection, or hate. The left hand represents the dark side; the sinstre, or the feminine―softer, more intuitive qualities. The right hand is masculine and represents active, logical qualities. If you see detached or disembodied hands it may mean you are not being understood or have feelings of solitude.

  What was this stuff based on, anyway? It seemed theoretically weak, to say the least. Jude’s old bomb of a car sounded in the driveway so I dropped the book and ran outside.

  Chapter 4: Usurpare

  “Heard the news?” Jude asked as he backed us out of the driveway.

  “What news?”

  “Owen’s buddy from wherever is here. Léon.”

  “The guy from ... Québec, wasn’t it? He’s here already?”

  “Yep. Arrived last night. Owen’s bringing him along tonight.” My excitement was tinged with worry, although I wasn’t sure why. Jude glanced at me. “Weird, huh? Having an outsider come in?”

  For a moment I was too shocked to speak. His tone sounded conversational but was this a cheap shot at me? Considering he was the one who’d brought me―the original outsider―into the group, it was monumentally hypocritical of him to make that crack. But a second later Jude checked my face again, his eyes filling with dismay.

  “Shit, Frankie. I didn’t mean ...”

  “It’s fine,” I said. It wasn’t but I would rather say it was than talk about it.

  We drove the rest of the way in a slightly tense silence. What would Cain be thinking about the arrival of this new person? A person who had a leader role, just like him? He’d only shown enthusiasm about meeting Léon so far, but it was hard for me to imagine two people like Cain in the same room. When we got there I saw straight away he was excited. He was jittery, continually jumping up to fix up some random piece of mess or rearrange threadbare cushions. There was something endearing about his high anticipation. Maybe being a leader was lonelier than it looked.

  Owen arrived with the newcomer after the rest of us were assembled and I couldn’t help but stare. This man shared the stunning glow of Cain, Owen, Jude, and Nadine. Other than that he would probably pass for a normal, good-looking kind of guy. Athletic, tanned, with almond-shaped green eyes, his hair close-shaven. He looked serious, a frown frequently creasing his forehead. Was that a crucifix around his neck? It was silver and small, similar to the one I’d once worn. The oddest thing was the tug I felt. It was a se
nsation of being tied up to something and suddenly pulled closer. A coming together, like I’d somehow been waiting for Léon to come and felt better now he was here. Maybe it was the recognition of yet another special being like Cain and the other three. Léon’s eyes searched all our faces keenly, often coming back to mine.

  Then he was shaking hands all-round, introducing himself as Léon in a French accent. That surprised me until I remembered something Owen had said about the French region of Québec. I was last in the introductions. Léon stood in front of me with a warm smile on his face, shaking my hand in both of his.

  “Francesca,” he said, although I’d been introduced as Frankie.

  He did that two-cheek kiss thing the French do. He hadn’t done that with the other girls. And calling me by my full name―only Cain did that. I flushed and glanced awkwardly at Cain. His smile had frozen and a look of confusion crossed his face.

  “I bet you’re jetlagged,” Nadine said, breaking the uncomfortable moment.

  “I am,” Léon admitted with a laugh. “Owen is very kindly hosting me and I expect he will be troubled by my snoring for many hours later tonight.”

  Liz fussed about and got Léon a drink. He accepted a plastic ‘glass’ of wine before settling into a beanbag to smile around at us all. I couldn’t help a reaction to that smile. It reminded me vividly of the one Cain had given me on that very first night, the one that was etched permanently into my heart. I smiled myself, remembering it, and looked at Cain where he sat beside me but found him regarding Léon with a faintly puzzled air.