And All the Stars (16 page)

"Are you okay?"

A grey tinge marred the warmth of Nash's finely cut features,
and his usual grace had leached away. Pan turned sharply, and sucked in his breath: "Damn, it was Gav's
day, wasn't it? Why didn't you say
anything?"

"Testing limits." Nash lifted one hand, failing to hold back a tremor. "It is a pitiful thing, to be so
dependent. I would not last a day
alone."

"Here."

Pan held out his hand, but Nash moved his own away. "We've already established that two days
together is an excellent way to knock you to pieces."

He turned his head toward Fisher, but stopped when Madeleine
held out her hand.

"I've nothing if not energy to spare," she
said. "Do I need to do anything in
particular?"

Nash hesitated, then said: "Not at all. Thank you."

"Shall we go clear more space in the hidden room?"
Fisher asked, and led the others away, leaving Madeleine with an uncomfortable
impression she was about to do something intimate.

She studied Nash's hand, admiring the clean lines, then
suppressed a murmur of surprise at the warm sensation which swept through her.

For some reason she'd expected it to hurt, and on one level
it did, but the way running too fast down a hill hurt: a plummeting
exhilaration. She was suddenly lit up
all over, intensely aware of the roil of power inside her, and a complex
passage of strength from her to Nash. And even more aware of him, as if she was in two places at once. She watched his stars growing bright, and
trembled.

He fetched her cupcakes and super-sweetened hot chocolate,
and carefully ignored her pink-cheeked confusion, and by the time her mug was
empty she'd recovered and was able to be amused at how he was energetically
striding about, tidying things up.

"You'd probably best take first watch," she
said. "You'll never sleep after
that."

Nash agreed, and then made sure she was able to get up the
spiral staircase without falling over. It wasn't quite yet sunset, but Madeleine was more than done for the
day. After a quick shower in her room's
en suite, and several futile attempts to reach Tyler, she removed her phone's
battery, and dreamt of running.

Someone – Noi, most likely – had come into Madeleine's room
overnight and arranged a tray of snacks and drinks on the bedside cabinet, so
when piercing hunger woke her in the pre-dawn grey she needed only to sit
up. Once the first urgency was met she
noticed the cold, and escaped to another warm shower and an attempt to manage
her hair.

Descending to the main floor, she found the lounge dark
except for the glow of the muted television, and the clear, pale note provided
by a vast, water-lapped sky. Pan was
sitting in the open doorway to the patio, legs curled against his chest, chin resting
on his knees, staring out at the water. He looked cold, small and defeated, all his mercurial energy drained.

Quietly putting together two steaming cups of over-sugared
tea, Madeleine handed him one, then sat to share the dawn. A seagull was hovering in the distance, the
first she'd seen since the dust.

"Gav was captain of the soccer team," Pan said,
when tea or company had warmed him a little. "And he could act the socks off half the school. Fantastic at the comedic roles – did a great
Bertie
Wooster. Really generous on the stage, too, not fiddling about drawing attention
to himself during someone else's good lines." Pan tipped the last of his tea into his
mouth, and swallowed heavily. "Just
before, they were showing...Madrid, I think it was. Spain somewhere. You know how we were wondering if the Moths
could body-hop? Go from person to
person? They can. They'd caught two Blues and – I guess some of
them must shop around for Blues with the most stain? They came out, and moved into the new Blues. The people they'd been in just dropped. Some Greens carried the bodies off."

There was nothing Madeleine could say. She sat turning her empty mug and listening
to the sounds the ocean made in a quiet bay. Soft, secret noises, large yet gentle.

"Gav's dead." Pan was barely audible. "He
might still be in his head right now – or not. He might walk around being the Core of the whatever the hell clan for
the next two years. But he doesn't get
to come back."

He sat a little straighter, putting his mug down
carefully. "I agree with
Emily. Fuck the running and hiding. Let's find a way to fight these things."

"I'm open to suggestions."

"Would you do it?" Pan shot Madeleine a quick glance. "Any plan we come up with is going to involve us hiding behind you
and your metal-crushing awesomeness."

"It's not metal I'm worried about crushing,"
Madeleine said. "Fighting the – are
we calling them Moths now? – fighting these things means attacking the people
they're inside. Hurting people who've
done nothing wrong. I don't know if I
could try to hunt down and kill possessed Blues. I think I could maybe fight back if we were
attacked, if it meant stopping...to stop the people here from being
taken."

"Oh, God, yeah. It's hard enough with Gav. I
would have gone spare if they'd gotten Nash."

"Are–" Madeleine hesitated. "Are
you two a couple?"

Pan gave her a Look, and she started to stutter an apology,
but then he grinned, mischief revived.

"Hah, that's okay. You're just the first person who's ever asked me that outright. Nash is – I met Nash my second year at
Rushies
, Year Eight. I'm a scholarship student there, and while most of the guys are fine
about that, there's always a few, you know? My parents run a petrol station, and you'd think that it was some kind
of personal affront the way a couple of twits reacted.

"Year Seven was pretty hellish. I wanted to prove myself. You know, be the underdog who comes in and
grabs the lead role. Didn't manage it
that year, but I snagged speaking parts in a couple of productions. And kept ending up with black eyes. I was a little
squit
back then, and it was always an elbow to the face, sorry didn't see you there
Rickard, ha
ha
. Then they'd trip me up on stage, put rubbish in the props I was supposed
to use. They'd drive me into a fury,
then ask me
Can't you take a joke?
I swear, I have to hold myself back from anyone who says that these
days.
Can't you take a joke?
Only
complete fuckwits say that.

"Year Eight, they were putting on
Peter Pan
and I
knew I'd get the lead if I could get through auditions in one piece. And I also desperately wanted to be on the
soccer team. Managed to scrape in as a
reserve, and the day before my first chance to play some bright spark had
disappeared my shoes. Team members are
responsible for their own kit, and if I couldn't get replacement shoes I'd be
sitting out the match, and somehow no-one had any my size they could possibly
spare. Only got a lecture when I rang
home for money.

"Nash was one of six in my dorm room, new that year and
kind of a big deal because of his family. His life's been all boarding schools and film sets, and he's met a hell
of a lot of industry people. Everyone
was trying to cultivate him, and he was being incredibly polite and
distant. On the day of the match, he
gets a package from his sister – stuff for cricket, a fencing mask. And one pair of soccer shoes which were way
too small for him. I didn't figure out
for months that he'd simply ordered everything himself that morning, and had it
couriered over.

"Then, on my way to the auditions for
Peter Pan
I was shoved into a cupboard
and locked in.
Just a joke, Rickard. Can't you
take a joke?
" For a moment Pan
became the essence of smug mockery, self-satisfied and unassailable. "Nash let me out. I was foaming with rage, wanted to go get
myself beaten up trying to black a few eyes. The best revenge was getting the part, of course, but I doubt I would
have remembered that without Nash."

"I'm beginning to see why he calls you temper-boy."

"Yeah." Pan grimaced. "I'm not that bad, really. Well, I went to counselling, and I'm not that
bad any more. Nash talked me into that. Nash has pretty much saved my life the last
couple of years, and no-one could be a better friend. We got gay-boy taunts, of course. Well, I did.
Rushies
has very strict policies about
annoying extra-prestigious international students. Nash
is
gay. He's been working out what that
means for him, but it doesn't seem to be me. And I could fill a book about the time April-next-door wore this really
loose tank top and from the side you could see this
curve
. I was eleven, and I still react when I see a
girl in a yellow top."

He leaned forward, sighing gustily. "I've been sitting here thinking about
all the guys in my class who died from the stain, and not being able to get Gav
back, and searching for a way to protect Nash. We're all trying to think of ways to protect each other, but not even
Fish has come up with anything. It's
just too
big
."

"We're still gathering information, remember."

"More information really isn't helping." He reached back and grabbed a tablet
computer, tapped through screens and handed it to her. "Watch that. I'm going to get started on breakfast."

He'd brought up a YouTube clip.

"
Mom, stop.
"

An American accent, and a wildly jiggling image which
steadied on a tearful boy of ten tugging at the arm of a woman packing a
suitcase into a car. Beside them a girl
of five sat on the driveway, wailing.

"
Why are you going?
" shouted a different girl
– the one holding the camera. "
How
can you leave us?
"

"
It's my duty to serve, honey,
" the woman
said, her voice soothing, unperturbed by the distress all around her. "
La-
Saal
needs me
."

She came back toward the camera to collect another suitcase,
and Madeleine saw that she was a Green, though the kids didn't seem to be
stained.

"
We need you more!
" the boy said. "
They're monsters, Mom. You
gotta
stay away
from them!
"

The woman ignored this, packing the second suitcase into the
back seat of the car and slamming the door shut.

"
I won't let you!
" The boy darted forward, snatching something
from the front seat before the woman could move, stepping away hands held to
his chest. "
You're staying here,
Mom. You're supposed to be with us, not
them!
"

The woman backhanded him across the face. He spun to the ground as the camera-girl
shrieked, then the image bounced dizzyingly as she ran forward, and the camera
fell. There wasn't clear vision after
that, just sobs and shouts, and the sound of a car starting, and driving away.

"There's a lot more like that," Pan said, cracking
eggs in the kitchen. "The Greens
are...they're still people, but any of them who were within range of the
Spires' song have packed up and headed in to where the possessed Blues
are. They just ignore or avoid the
uninfected, unless someone tries to stop them."

Madeleine had belatedly processed the morning's silence. "The song's stopped, but they're
still–?"

"Yeah, it doesn't conveniently wear off, and it doesn't
make any difference if you take them out of range. They respond to some questions, but not very
usefully."

"They're not all standing about the Spires are
they?"

"I wish. Worst
news first: road blocks. They did the
main roads, then moved on to all the little streets, driving cars across
them. A couple of cities even have
footage of Greens talking together, marking off street maps. I don't know if they'll manage to get every
street, but we can't hope to simply drive away. Equally bad news: they're searching the cities. Collecting bodies mainly, but also flushing
out Blues. We did a lot of brainstorming
about what to do if they come here – check the fridge."

A list had been added to the collection of flower and
superhero drawings.

Everyone – own rooms and en suites.

Pan – TV, walkway monitor.

Min – patio & patio door.

Nash – phones, random belongings.

Emily – kitchen.

Maddie
– main
bathroom.

Fisher – fresh rubbish.

Noi – this list!

"It's no good us hiding in that study if the sinks are
wet, fresh food is sitting on the table, and there's a handy monitor shrieking
'intruder!'. So orders are to keep rooms
we're not in spotless, and don't leave your belongings about. The second the monitor alarm sounds, clear
your main room task, check your own room, then straight to the study. Strictly speaking Noi wanted us to not cook
for the next few days, because, well, the cheery scent of pancakes is a bit of
a giveaway as well." He lifted a
sizzling frying pan. "But she also
wants to use up the eggs before they go off, so I figure this is early enough
in the day to be safe, and we clean up straight away.
Wanna
help?"

They made enormous stacks of pancakes and were washing up
when the others began to drift out of their rooms. Min and Noi paused to talk by the dining
table, then went out on the patio together. Min set a small statue of Buddha up against the planters, and they both
lit some incense and prayed. Fisher
collected pots of jam and honey and laid the table while Emily ran through the
available channels on the television, but didn't turn on the sound. They decided to let Nash continue to sleep
while they worked through the pancakes, and no-one seemed to want to talk much,
even after Pan told them about the body-hopping.

"I didn't realise you were Buddhist, Noi,"
Madeleine said, after they'd drifted out to sit on the patio. The planter hedges thankfully shielded them
from most angles, so they'd decided it was safe to venture.