Half Wild (18 page)

“Very well.”

She turns and kisses Annalise on the lips and, as she does, Annalise’s lips are parted and words on hot breath flow out of Mercury’s mouth and into Annalise. Mercury straightens and smooths her hand down Annalise’s arm, brushes the backs of her fingers down her cheek, saying, “I have begun the process. The spark of life is reignited but it will be hours, maybe a day, before the next stage can take place and she wakes.”

I go to Annalise and take her hand.

“What’s the next stage?” I ask Mercury, turning to look at her, but she’s walking toward the door, leaving already. I’ve no idea if Gabriel’s had enough time to let the others in. I need to delay Mercury but I don’t know how without raising her suspicions. “Is there anything I should do? Will she need water or—”

Mercury half turns, saying, “I told you—”

She’s interrupted by a call. It sounds like Pers but Gabriel wouldn’t be calling. I don’t understand the words but I have a bad feeling.

Mercury looks irritated rather than angry and leaves the room. I go to the doorway, planning on following her. Mercury pulls the tapestry aside and stands there, her back to me. I can see through into the great hall and I can hear Pers again. Now she runs up to Mercury. It’s the real Pers, dressed differently from Gabriel. She sees me too and shouts and points. I’ve no idea what she’s saying but I can guess.

Mercury doesn’t even reply but turns to me and I duck back into the bedroom as a bolt of lightning flashes past. I risk another quick glance into the corridor and see the tapestry falling back into place. Mercury has gone into the great hall. The noise of thunder fills the bunker and the walls of the corridor shake like they might collapse.

I run to the tapestry but before I get there I hear a gunshot, and then an explosion, and another and another, so that the vibrations of each one add to the next until the whole bunker seems to be shaking. There is now a howling gale that I have to battle against to push aside the tapestry and look into the great hall, where I see Van facing Mercury.

Nesbitt is at the far end of the hall, his gun pointed at the body of Pers, who is splayed on the floor, a neat bullet hole in her forehead. For a second, I’m in shock but it isn’t Gabriel; it’s the real Pers—the one wearing different clothes.

Nesbitt turns to point the gun at Mercury but the strength of the wind increases and he can’t hold the gun steady. He can hardly hold himself upright.

I spot Gabriel, no longer in disguise. He’s kneeling in the corner of the room, a gun in his hand, but he can’t hold it steady either. He shoots and misses.

Mercury raises her arms and swirls them over her head and the wind strengthens to a furious pace, picking up all loose items—cushions, papers, a small table—so they circle the room in a tornado. Even the heavy wooden chairs slide around in a strange circular dance and the wind forces me backward into the shelter of the corridor.

Mercury stands in the middle of the tornado, howling in fury. A flash of lightning jumps out, strengthens and grows. Van screams and only then does the lightning fade. Nesbitt fires his gun but he cannot hurt Mercury. She’ll kill us all.

The tapestry over the end of the corridor whips in my face and I step back. I want the animal to take over. I want to be him, even if it’s for one last time. And I let the animal adrenaline flood through me and I welcome it.

I’m inside him. Inside the animal. But this time it’s different: now we both want the same thing.

the tapestry whips in our face. we snap up and pull it down. we’re strong and huge and even on all fours our head is high off the ground.

there’s the howl of the wind, which sounds like a woman but the words don’t make sense anymore. they’re just noise, screeching sounds, furious sounds.

the woman in gray has her back to us. her dress is flying wildly, ripping apart in places. her hair is vertical, in a whirlwind of its own. lightning flashes out of the storm around her. she spreads her arms and her hands throw lightning across the room. the wind drops a little. the other woman is on the floor, crawling away. the older man is near her. he’s angry and frightened, for himself and the woman on the floor, but he has a gun. he steps forward and shoots but the gun’s empty, and he’s shouting and running at the lightning woman but she throws her arm back and a surge of wind picks the man up and flings him hard against the wall. lightning woman doesn’t turn to look at what she has done, she only looks at the other woman, who is crawling away, and lightning strikes the floor near the crawling woman. the flash is dazzling and the thunder echoes in the room.

we catch a movement to our far right. a young man is in the entrance to another corridor. blood is running down the side of his face.

we swing back to the lightning woman. she’s the only threat. she’ll kill us if we don’t kill her. we move forward. we smell her now, a metallic smell of anger.

the woman on the floor is still alive. she is exhausted but she is saying words.

the wind drops more. the lightning woman’s hair falls around her neck. she’s speaking again and then another lightning flash hits the ground. the woman on the floor screams a short, sharp scream and drops limp. smoke rises from her clothes. her hair is burning.

we move forward to the lightning woman. her body stiffens. she’s sensed something. we get ready, tensing our rear legs. lightning woman turns. she sees us. she’s surprised but she doesn’t step back. she raises her arm to send wind or lightning but we’re on her already. and she’s on the floor beneath us, in our grasp. she’s thin and brittle but hard, lost in our hug.

lightning strikes around us, around the room, dazzling. loud. louder. brighter. crashing close but not striking us. the storm is wild, howling, fiercely cold. we are in the eye of it. but we keep hold, crushing the woman to our chest. her ribs crack. crack, crack, crack. we push our claws into her side and rip them in and up, splitting bone, tearing through her. hot blood running out. we claw again. through the tough skin and down, crashing through ribs and guts to her hip bone.

the wind has gone.

still and quiet now.

there is no fear. it has faded with the last flash of lightning and thunder.

a small flame licks up the side of a tapestry. smoke and steam hang in the air.

the lightning woman is still.

we loosen our grip on her body and let it drop hard on the floor. we smell her from shoulder to guts, all open and red.

her blood tastes good.

we take her in our jaws, lifting her slightly as we bite. the redness of it and the smell of it are good.

i’m in a bathroom.

i’m shaking.

but i’m me.

* * *

i run the bath, washing the blood off my arm.

i remember every second of being the animal. i remember it all.

i lie in the bath, slide under, and submerge. when i surface again the water has turned pink.

i think i’m going to throw up and i get out and stand by the toilet but i’m not sick.

* * *

i’ve stopped shaking.

“Can I talk to you?”

Gabriel stands in the bathroom doorway. I’ve got my back to him, though I can see him in the mirror. He steps further into the room. He is incredibly, perfectly beautiful and worried and human, and I look at myself, at my reflection. I look the same as ever but I’m not.

I tell Gabriel, “I can remember all of it.” I even remember transforming back. Once Mercury was dead I stayed with her, almost feeling her life dissipate into the silence around me. Nesbitt staggered to Van and knelt over her, checking her pulse, talking to her, telling her to heal. She was burned, smoldering and blackened. Nesbitt spoke quietly to her. He smelled of sorrow. Gabriel came out of the corridor. He no longer held a gun. He walked toward me, arms out, palms facing me. Not quite meeting my gaze, looking at the floor and glancing up, and he sat on the wet rug near me. I lay down by him and rested, and the animal adrenaline left me and in a second I had transformed back. I returned to this me. Nathan.

Gabriel says, “That’s good, that you remember.”

“Yeah, maybe. I don’t know.” I turn to face him. “It’s different when I’m the animal. I’m not the same.” I say it so quietly that I don’t know if he can even hear me.

“Don’t be afraid of your Gift, Nathan.”

“I’m not afraid of it, not anymore. But once I’m transformed, when I’m the animal, everything is different. I’m sort of watching him but also part of him, feeling all the things he feels. And it feels amazing, Gabriel, to be completely, absolutely him—to be completely, absolutely wild. I don’t want to be an animal, Gabriel, but, when I am, it’s the best feeling. The best, wildest, most intensely beautiful feeling. I always thought a person’s Gift reflected something about that person and all I can think is that my Gift reflects my desires, and my desires are to be totally wild, totally free. Without any control.”

“You enjoyed it?”

“Is that wrong?”

“There’s no right or wrong here, Nathan.”

I don’t know if I can say it but I want to tell him, so I do. “It feels good.”

He comes closer to me and says, “I love it when you’re honest with me. You’re more in touch with the real you than anyone I’ve ever met.”

And I know he’s going to kiss me again and I put my hand out against his chest to stop him.

But then I look at him, at his face, his eyes, and the gold in them tumbling around, and I don’t know why I’m fighting this too. I’m curious about him. And just touching his chest is something. It’s nice. It feels good. I’m not sure what I want to do and I know I’ll stop if it doesn’t feel good.

I slide my hand up to his shoulder and behind his neck. I’m leaning my head the slightest amount, bending forward, and he doesn’t move. He’s so still. My hand is round his neck, in his hair. I’m not looking in his eyes but at his lips and as quietly as I can I say, “Gabriel.”

I’m so close to him our lips are almost touching, and then I move closer so our lips
are
touching as I say his name again. It’s like a kiss but it’s not really a kiss. And it’s nice and I want more. I move my lips without saying his name, still barely touching, then closer, caressing his lips with mine. And he kisses me. I don’t care anymore about anything. I want to feel more and I’m desperate and kissing Gabriel on the mouth harder and harder and pulling his body to me as hard as I can, my arms round him, our mouths open, tongues licking each other, our teeth clashing, and then I’m pushing him away. Pushing him hard against the wall. And then I back away from him and walk out of the bathroom.

I’m supposed to be with Annalise. I don’t understand any of what’s happening to me.

It seems like a lifetime since Mercury kissed Annalise to wake her. I’ve been sitting here with Annalise for three or four hours and I’m glad she’s still asleep. I can sit on the chair by her bed, my head rested back and my eyes half open, and look at her, at her pure beauty, and if I think about that I don’t have to think about other stuff.

There’s a knock on the door and before I say anything Van walks in. I can see that she’s healed well and fast but one side of her face is scarred.

“Nesbitt said you were here. Any change?” she asks.

“Nothing. Mercury said she’d done the first stage of the process; she said it’d be hours before the next. But I’ve no idea what that is. I don’t know if I have to do something or what.”

Van sits on a chair on the other side of the bed. She’s wearing a new clean suit and looks as perfect as ever. Even her hair isn’t looking too bad, though I can see some of it has been burned off around her right ear.

She lights a cigarette and says, “Let’s wait and see. I would assume the next stage is when Annalise starts to wake.”

I close my eyes and doze. I think of Gabriel. I wanted to kiss him, wanted to know what it was like, and it was nice, good. I liked it. But I’d rather kiss Annalise. And Gabriel is my friend, though I’ve probably messed that up, but I hope not because Gabriel of all people should understand. Though I’m not sure what there is to understand.

I open my eyes and sit up. Without really thinking about it, I say to Van, “Do you think I have to do something?”

“To wake Annalise?”

“Yes.”

Van tilts her head to the left and she sits up a little. “Do something like . . . ?”

“I don’t know. The old stories say the prince wakes the sleeping princess with a kiss. Mercury kissed her but maybe I need to as well.”

“I can’t believe you haven’t tried it,” Van says. “Though two kisses doesn’t feel much like Mercury’s sort of thing.” She looks at Annalise. “But it has to be said that nothing much is happening now.”

I get up and go to Annalise and gently lower myself down and kiss her lips. They’re cold. I try again, harder. I feel her cheek: it’s cold. I feel for a pulse in her neck: nothing.

I sit back down and stare at Annalise. “I’m sure this isn’t right.”

Van drags on her cigarette and says, “Do you notice anything about that chest of drawers beside you?”

I turn and look. It’s a tall oak chest of eight drawers. The furniture in the room—the wardrobe, bed, chest, and chairs—is all the same wood.

“I’ve been looking at it for the last hour and now it’s beginning to annoy me. Why does every keyhole in the chest of drawers, indeed in this entire room, have a key in it, except that top drawer?”

I look round. She’s right: all the drawers have locks but each one has a tiny key in it. The door to the room also has a lock and key, as does the wardrobe. I try the top drawer but it won’t budge. All the other drawers open and each one is empty.

Van stubs her cigarette out on the arm of the chair and gets up, saying, “I think you’re right: you do have to do something to wake Annalise but it’s not a kiss that she needs; it’s something else. And that drawer is where I’d put the something else.” Van tries to open the lock with the key from the drawer below. It doesn’t work. “We need the right key.”

“Mercury didn’t use keys,” I say, and I walk quickly out of the room. I know Gabriel has one of Mercury’s hairpins but I’m not sure I can face him at the moment. I’d rather face a corpse.

It’s still smoky in the great hall. I look to where I dropped Mercury’s body. It’s not there but there are two tapestries rolled up, lying next to each other at the side of the room. The bigger one must contain Mercury’s body, the smaller one, Pers.

I drag the longer bundle to a space in the middle of the room and unravel it. Even this is unpleasant. She’s stiff and unrolls with a jerk onto her front and then onto her back, until Mercury is lying there, eyes open, staring at me. Her eyes are still black but with no stars shining or lightning flashing in them. I carefully feel through her hair and pull out all the pins. Seventeen of them! Some with red skull ends, some black, white, green, and some made of glass. I can’t remember which ones are for which tasks, though Rose did tell me that some open doors, some open locks, and some kill.

I put the pins carefully into my pocket. All I have to do now is roll Mercury back up. I flop the end of the tapestry over her and move round to slide my hands underneath her, and, as I do so, I see something slip from Mercury’s bloodstained dress. It’s a silver chain and locket with a complex clasp that slots inside itself. The locket is held within an intricately designed nest of woven silver and gold. It won’t open. I pick one of the hairpins with a red end and push it against the locket.

I’m not sure what to expect—some special potion or valuable jewel—but inside the locket is a tiny painted portrait of a young girl who looks like Mercury. But it isn’t her. Mercury isn’t vain enough to wear her own picture. It must be her twin sister, Mercy, my great-grandmother. Marcus killed her and now I’ve killed the other sister. Black Witches are renowned for killing members of their own family and it seems in that respect I’m turning out Black.

I close the locket and replace it in the folds of Mercury’s dress.

I roll her body back up and drag her to the side of the room.

In the bedroom with Van I show her the hairpins. “The red skull ones open locks.” I put the point of one into the keyhole and there’s a satisfying, quiet click. The drawer slides smoothly open and inside is a tiny purple bottle.

Van takes it and pulls out the worn cork. She sniffs at the bottle and jerks her head back, eyes watering. She says, “This is the potion to wake Annalise. I’d suggest just one drop.”

“On her lips?”

“That’s romantic but not very effective. In her mouth, I’d say.”

I take the bottle and, while Van holds Annalise’s mouth open, I tip the bottle up. A glutinous blue blob of liquid grows at the bottle’s lip and I’m just beginning to think that it’s too much and not right as the drop falls into Annalise’s mouth.

I keep my hand on her neck, feeling for a pulse. A minute passes and there’s nothing. I still keep hold of her and another minute passes, and then I think I feel something—the faintest of pulses.

“She’s waking,” I say.

Van checks Annalise’s neck. “Yes, but her heart’s weak. I’ll see what I can come up with for that.” And she leaves the room.