Fallout

  Cain’s face showed that wasn’t anywhere good enough and I knew why. Léon would make short work of Albion if there was any kind of confrontation.

  “Cain,” I said before Albion could get too offended. “I won’t go anywhere alone.”

  Honestly, the last thing I wanted to do was go to this grand opening. But Vanessa dropped in when I got home from campus and she was so excited, in her freshly ironed, spotless barista apron, that I knew I had to go through with it. Early evening, Uncle Max brought his car around to collect Albion. I drove the pink car, prepared for my escape to Gaunt House during the evening. My uncle looked tired and warned us again not to drink anything except bottled water.

  I hardly recognised the old tannery. It had been gutted and rebuilt from the inside out. The brickwork cladding was the only thing that remained of the old structure, and gave it the appearance of a splendid heritage building. Every light in the place blazed. Couples and families poured into the place, dressed up as though this were more than a café opening, like it was the start of a new identity for this town.

  “Wow,” I said, joining Uncle Max and Albion in the parking lot. “Looks amazing.”

  Uncle Max regarded the building with a sad look on his face. He was on the farmers’ side when it came to the closure of the tanning plant. The injustice of it hit fresh when I thought about Helen and her dead father―and now her mother was gone too.

  “Ethan and Ness are working for the first couple of hours,” Albion told us. “But they’ll be out to socialise when things quieten down.”

  Great. I’d be lucky to see Vanessa at all, considering I would be leaving within an hour. Uncle Max checked his phone and I watched as he tapped out a reply to a colleague’s message.

  CrVI. Xander has results.

  “What’s that mean, Uncle Max?” An internal alarm was going off in my head. His message reminded me of something significant that eluded me.

  He saw me staring at his phone screen. “Oh, it’s just that one of the other doctors is completing a report on the chromium poisoning. He was double-checking the contaminant with me so I was confirming it was chromium six and letting him know which of our team has the lab results.”

  I was frowning with the effort of working out why that was important but attempted an apologetic smile. “Sorry. That was really nosy of me. I just can’t stop thinking about poor Mrs Niven.” My uncle’s face grew even longer and I regretted my words.

  “Come on,” Albion said, “let’s get a drink before all the free booze runs out.”

  There were a couple of journalists hovering on the steps into the Marie-Celeste so we were obliged to wait while they squeezed quotes out of the people ahead of us. One local woman was gabbling about how wonderful this was and a real coming of age for the community. Her husband was nodding supportively but their kids, dressed up for the special outing, looked bored. Two of them muttered together for a minute and then the little girl asked her father, “Can we go play around the back? Brayden saw a playground.”

  He considered and then assented. “Don’t go near the construction site, all right? I’ll come and check on you in a while.”

  The kids ran off around the side of the building and finally the couple moved forward. The female journalist gave us a winning smile.

  “Hi guys! Piper Pavlich from the Revel City Review.”

  Albion raised his eyebrows and I understood why. Was Augur’s Well getting a Marie-Celeste really such a big deal that a reporter had been sent from the city to cover it? Then I remembered that Grace Creek, the developers, were based in Revel City. They’d probably called in some favours with the newspaper. Piper asked Uncle Max something, his expression becoming more cautious every moment. Maybe he didn’t want her to catch wind of the tannery development furore, or possibly the mass chromium poisoning in town. But then Piper caught sight of me and stopped scribbling abruptly.

  “Aren’t you Frankie Carver?”

  “Uh ...” I was out of practice when it came to being recognised.

  Albion groaned. “Here we go. Sorry, Piper Pavlich―great reporter name, by the way,” he told her with a cheeky grin, “a bit like Lois Lane. But we’re here to enjoy the party, not to get interrogated.” He took my shoulders and steered me in through the café door.

  “Maybe we can chat later, Frankie?” the young woman called after me hopefully.

  Yeah, not likely. We pushed our way into the throng inside where I could hardly believe what I saw. It was bordering on opulent. A string ensemble played under dazzling contemporary chandeliers that hung from the ceilings. In keeping with the Marie-Celeste’s usual nautical theme, ship steering wheels had been fixed onto the balustrades of the mezzanine floor, which kids were energetically spinning. The people of Augur’s Well laughed and buzzed, getting stuck into the free food and champagne all around us.

  Albion hmphed. “You can bring the masses to a better class of eatery but you cannot make them drink.”

  “No one needs to make these guys drink,” I commented, staring.

  Uncle Max helped himself to a glass of red wine from a tray coming past. The waiter looked overwhelmed and hassled. I hoped Vanessa was coping at the coffee machine but I couldn’t even see the counter through the throngs. Albion chased the waiter down and fetched us both a glass of sparkling wine.

  “Jesus,” he said. “Let’s find somewhere we can breathe.”

  Of course, it was only a matter of moments until Albion ran into one of his friends. I squeezed up against a wall and checked Uncle Max’s drawn face.

  “I know you’re thinking about it, Uncle Max. How do you think the heavy metals got into the water?”

  “I wish I knew, Frankie. I would have guessed it was this place, now we know it was chromium, but there’s nothing left here of the tanning works. It’s all gone. All I can assume is that it must be present in the soil and maybe the soil’s spilled into the watercourses and moved downstream to the reservoir where we get our local drinking water supply. That’s why my colleague’s writing the report. We want the Environmental Department to come and investigate. People are getting sick and dying. We need to find out why.”

  “Did Mrs Niven die from the poisoning?”

  He became cautious again. “Maybe. It seems more than a coincidence that she grew so much worse at the same time that other people in town got sick again. There’s only so much toxicity the human body can take.”

  “If it’s in the soil and falling into the water,” I said, thinking, “then the soil must contain a lot of chromium, right? I mean, how much soil could be spilling into the water, really? And that reservoir is huge. I would have thought it would disperse more, get so diluted it wouldn’t do too much harm?”

  “Yes, it’s a puzzle. Whatever the source is it must be pretty concentrated.”

  One of Uncle Max’s friends approached then and Albion came and fetched me so he could introduce me around to Ethan’s buddies. I caught Vanessa’s eye at the coffee counter and a surge of pride went through me as she gave me a happy wave. Here was my sister, getting herself a real job and choosing not to live off Dad’s money. Well, not solely, anyway.

  I milled around pretending to be sociable for over an hour. Albion was just warming up but I couldn’t wait to get out of there. When I told him I was leaving he made a face at me and got vocal.

  “Frankie, it’s one night! Have you even said hello to Vanessa yet?”

  He made me feel so bad I ended up staying a little longer. I joined the long queue for coffee and Vanessa made it for me while she chattered excitedly about how one machine wasn’t frothing milk properly and they had to bring in some emergency frothers from someone’s house and it was so stressful. I laughed and commiserated, and then got moved out of the line. Sipping at my lukewarm coffee, I searched for Albion. The Revel City reporter, complete with scarlet hair and piercings all up one ear, hovered nearby. She smiled in a friendly manner.

  “Hey, Frankie.” She looked young, not much older than me; maybe a c
adet journalist. “You’re living out here in Augur’s Well now, huh?”

  I was cagey. “I’m staying here at the moment.”

  “What’s that like? Bit of a one-horse sort of place, huh? Town of Churches and all?” She looked at me with fresh interest, eyes dancing with amusement. “I guess that’s why your dad settled here.”

  I smiled politely so she wouldn’t think she’d upset me and turned to look for Albion.

  “I’ve got another day in town tomorrow,” she said, touching my arm. “I’m touring the new housing estate in the afternoon but I don’t suppose you want to meet up in the morning? We could grab a coffee together.”

  “Sorry, I’m in classes tomorrow.”

  “Oh, you’re studying?”

  She was pretty good at her job. She asked questions so naturally I found myself answering without thinking about it. “Yeah.”

  “University?”

  I suddenly remembered I was a year too old to be studying for my high school graduation and that was because my private tutor was busy getting my sister pregnant when he should have been helping me pass senior year. I turned away. “I’ve gotta find someone. See you later.”

  I tried to find Albion but he was nowhere to be seen so this time I really did leave. I threaded my way through the crowd, sharp-eyed Piper watching me across the room as I escaped into the cool night air. Thank God. I checked my phone in case Cain had contacted me but I had no new messages. The squeals of kids in the nearby playground cut through the roar of noise from inside.

  “You going?” Ugh, it was Piper again. Points for persistence. “I don’t suppose I could catch a lift into town with you?”

  “Aren’t you supposed to be covering the grand opening?” A little of my annoyance seeped into my words.

  She regarded me with even more interest than before. Did this girl invite conflict?

  “I’ve got everything I need. The local guys are doing the photos. I want to head back to the hotel.”

  “Sorry, I’m not going that way,” I told her, hurrying down the steps.

  But at that moment a familiar white van pulled up right in front of me. To my dismay, it wasn’t Owen inside but Léon. He reached over and wound down the window, gazing at me in desperation. “Francesca! Please!”

  “Léon!”

  I would have turned and run straight back inside to find Albion but the genuine fear in his voice made me hesitate. I glanced at Piper who gave me a bemused look, her eyes wide.

  “Please, I need help.” There was real distress in his face. “It’s Owen.”

  “What?” I dashed towards the van and spoke through the open window, trying to lower my voice so Piper wouldn’t hear. “What’s happened?”

  “He saw a vision of a woman walking―”

  “The woman at the lake?” I gasped. “With the dog?”

  “Yes!” Léon was panicking, the café lights reflecting off a sheen of sweat on his skin. “Cain won’t take his calls. We need to help Owen carry out the rescue.”

  I scrambled in and Léon drove hard, heading northeast. So Cain wouldn’t take Owen’s calls anymore? I tried to rationalise it. Sometimes my calls and messages bounced when he was in the chamber under Gaunt House. But part of me suspected the hurt of being abandoned had stopped Cain responding to Owen and I was disappointed in him. I dug in my jeans back pocket for my phone to try my own message. Then I remembered something even more important.

  “Léon, promise me something.” He glanced at me in surprise. “This time, let Owen lead. Don’t jump in early. It didn’t work.”

  His jaw tightened as he gazed at the road ahead but he didn’t seem shocked. Owen must have already told him what happened to the boys at Market Lake.

  “Do you know where to go? Is Owen there already?”

  “He and Nadine are there, yes. At the lake.” His voice was strained as though his throat were tight. Not surprising. Despite his bad calls Léon only wanted what we all wanted. It must ache like hell to know his actions had caused that little boy’s injuries.

  “Which lake is it?”

  “Uh ...” His forehead creased.

  “Did Owen just call it ‘the lake’? Because there’s a place in town everyone calls ‘the lake.’ I think its real name is Lake Eyrie.”

  “Yes!” Léon was relieved. “That is it. Where do I go?”

  “We’re heading the wrong way. We should have turned off about a mile back.”

  Léon muttered in French but didn’t turn the van. We approached a railway crossing, the kind with no boom-gates; only lights and warning bells. They were flashing and ringing.

  “Léon, turn back. It’s much quicker to go back the way we came. If you keep going we’ll get caught at the train crossing and let me tell you, these grain freight trains take a damn long time to cross! Look, there’s a place you can turn just up ahead on the right.”

  He ignored me, gazing straight ahead. Holy God, was he having a vision or something? The only way I knew he was still in the here-and-now was that he put his foot down to go faster and glanced sideways at the train approaching the crossing.

  Wait. Was he trying to drive us into the train?

  “Léon? Léon!” I made a grab for the steering wheel but he caught my arm and held it. When I attempted to kick my foot past his for the brake pedal he blocked me with his knees. My last option was the door. I’d get hurt jumping from the van, but less so than I would hitting a train in a speeding vehicle. I made a lunge for the door but Léon’s grip was like a steel clamp. I couldn’t do anything more than unlatch the door and kick at it wildly. It swung shut again in the wind.

  “Léon!” I shrieked. “No! No!”

  This close to the crossing, the train’s horn gave a deafening blast and the bells seemed to clang inside my ears. I cried out, seeing the train right beside us as the van bumped over the first rail, and Léon screamed too, a holler of exhilarated terror―or triumph.

  I felt the massive jolt as the train clipped the van and we went into a centrifugal spin. Pinned against Léon, I screamed and screamed from the centre of the dervish, more breath knocked out of me every time the van hit something, the world outside a blur of black, red and silver. Finally the spinning ceased, the van giving a gigantic heave to my side, a precarious pause, and then a lurch-slam back down to the ground. The blur of colour resolved into the starlit night sky and the red crossing lights. Somehow we were upright and somehow I was alive.

  I lay half-across Léon and waited for the dizziness to subside. Splintering pain shot through my neck and arm. I focused on Léon, who looked dazed and was bleeding from a gash in his forehead. Otherwise he also appeared to, miraculously, be okay. A sob burst from my throat as I pulled myself into an upright position.

  “Léon, you fucking asshole,” I cried. “You tried to kill me! To kill both of us!”

  “No,” he managed, wiping blood away from his eyes with the back of his arm, “I didn’t want to kill you―”

  “You drove at that train on purpose!” I put my hand to my neck and winced. He’d really done some damage. A painful point on my elbow had already started to swell.

  “No.” Léon spoke as though bewildered, concussed perhaps.

  The train was still screeching to a halt behind us. We would get into big trouble if the train drivers got to us. They’d probably already called the local emergency services and it was likely we only had minutes. I released my seatbelt and climbed out of the van, discovering several more grazes and pains around my body as I did so. I surveyed the van. Even in the darkness I could see it was as bent and battered as I felt. I went around to the driver’s side, opened the door and shoved Léon.

  “Move. Move over.”

  He gazed at me uncomprehendingly for a few moments so I shoved him again. This time he registered my command and unbuckled, shuffling slowly across to the passenger side. I drove us away from the crossing, not stopping until we’d been on the road for a good fifteen minutes, heading along a remote backroad I thought loop
ed around through farmland for a few miles but eventually came out at the lake.

  “Francesca,” Léon said after a long silence. “Did it work?”

  “Did what work?”

  “Do you feel the transformation coming upon you?”

  I crashed my foot down on the brake so hard I nearly sent the van into another spin and when it stopped, turned to Léon. “Are you injured?”

  He touched his forehead where blood had begun to congeal. “No, I’m all right, I think ...”

  I lined up and pulled my arm back as far as I could to bring it around in a solid, full-palm thwack across Léon’s cheek. I didn’t care about my injuries or whether he would hit me back, and my hand throbbed when I slapped him but I didn’t care about that either.

  “No, I have not started transforming because you gave me a near death experience, you total loser jackass!” I shouted. “I thought for a second you asked because you were concussed but no, you mean it, don’t you? You really did try to force a transformation by nearly killing me. Didn’t you?”

  I was so mad the words were coming out half-formed but Léon caught my meaning and tried to defend himself.

  “Something’s coming for us. For you, Francesca, and Cain, and me and all the others. You need to be prepared―”

  “So you thought you’d prepare me?” I hissed.

  “Yes! Your power is different. Unique. We need you to transform so it can be tapped.”

  It was about then that my logic kicked back in. Léon would stop at nothing to access whatever ability I had, whether a transformation was imminent or not. I was not safe with this man. His strength meant I had no hope of fighting him off if I tried to get away and he grabbed me, which I knew he would. I had to get back to civilisation and out of his company. My best hope was to pretend I wasn’t scared, pretend to comply, and drive us back to somewhere―anywhere―other people could help. Preferably Cain, Jude, and Liz.

  I took the handbrake off to resume driving but it was no good. Léon knew exactly what I was thinking. He took hold of my arm in that iron grip.

  “Francesca. Stop.”