Page 77 of Waifs And Strays
‘Don’t go to Crackendon Square.’ I raised my voice so that as many people as possible would hear me. ‘Something bad is going to happen and you shouldn’t go.’
Several excited conversations hushed as people turned their heads towards me.
‘Don’t go to the square,’ I repeated. ‘Please. It’s dangerous.’
There were a few snorts of derision. The tall man frowned down at me. ‘You’re from the Church of the Masked God, ain’tya? They’re only jealous that everyone has decided to go somewhere else for the solstice this year.’
I tried to stay calm. ‘I’m not from anywhere. I’m just telling you that going to Crackendon isn’t a good idea. Not today.’
‘Oh yeah? Where are you going, then?’
I ground my teeth. Damnit. ‘Your lives are in danger!’ I shouted. ‘Don’t go to the square!’
There was a beat of silence before most of the members of my unwilling audience started to laugh. My shoulders dropped. It was what I’d expected but even so it was depressing. These people didn’t know me, they had no reason to believe my words and they’d heard a million conspiracy theories over the years. Coldstream tended to breed daft ideas and whispered rumours – but that didn’t mean that some of them weren’t true.
‘Shut your trap,’ the man told me. ‘We’re off out to enjoy ourselves.’
I wasn’t going to convince them, so I’d simply have to try harder once I reached the square.
I conjured up a picture of the square and the surrounding buildings in my mind. The area would be packed. I was vertically challenged enough for it to be difficult to see anything, and I doubted I could squeeze my way to the front of the crowds. My best bet was to get up high; if I could scale one of the buildings to gain a decent vantage point, maybe I could spot the danger. The Paradigm Bank was my best bet: its flat roof was high enough for me to see everything, and thanks to its ancient outdoor fire escape it would be easy to climb.
I breathed out slowly. I had a plan of sorts; it wasn’t ideal, but it was the best I could come up with under the circumstances.
I pushed to the front of the tram. There were several loud complaints and tuts, and I received at least two elbow jabs in my ribs. ‘Stupid woman,’ someone hissed. I ignored them.
When we finally arrived I sucked in a sharp breath when I saw how many people had gathered. Hundreds, possibly thousands, were here to celebrate the solstice and see what the posters and flyers advertising the event had been about.
The tram doors swished open. I jumped out and pushed through the crowds to the bank building. As soon as I reached it, I veered around until I was at the bottom of the rusty fire escape. Ignoring the creaking of the metal, I sprinted up it.
I wasn’t the only one who’d thought to come up here. I was furious at the thought that someone might get in my way and stop me from doing whatever was necessary – but then I realised that it was Thane.
He turned to face me as soon as he heard my footsteps. ‘Kit.’ He sounded relieved rather than surprised.
I hadn’t seen him since he’d been carted away for medical treatment after the events at Brassick’s house. He looked well, if a little pale. ‘What are you doing here?’ he demanded.
‘I might ask you the same thing.’
He grunted. ‘You first.’
I met his gaze. ‘Brassick wasn’t Umbra’s leader.’
‘Why do you say that?’
I waved a hand at the people below us. ‘It’s the middle of the day and Umbra’s goal is to raise a demon. There’s no way that its leader would miss the event, and there’s no way a vampire could stand out there without burning up. Their big event takes place atnoon. They could easily have arranged it for after the sun goes down in less than five hours but they didn’t.’
A muscle throbbed in Thane’s cheek. ‘Perhaps Brassick wanted to watch the action from a distance. Perhaps he wasn’t as convinced as his cronies that they could control whatever creature they invoke.’
‘Perhaps.’
He eyed me. ‘There’s more?’
‘Nick came to see me. He spoke about a large conical flask into which they were decanting his blood.’
Thane finally understood. ‘And there was no such flask at Brassick’s place.’
‘I don’t think this is over.’ I folded my arms. ‘What’s your story?’
He looked away. ‘The numbers.’ He sounded oddly defeated. ‘The numbers Brassick used to label us all. Paul was Number One. Alice was Number Two. I was Number Three and Nick was Number Four.’
