Hidden Among Us (22 page)

The woman sitting closest to me gave me a smile that was half totally embarrassed, half seriously concerned, and pulled out the empty chair beside her. I sat down, leaning forwards onto the table, fighting a sinking black exhaustion I’d never known before. Miles sat down next to me.

Me included, there were eight of us.

“Thanks,” I said. It was all just so completely
bizarre
, like I’d stumbled into an alternative reality, except Dad still looked like he wanted to rip out my soul. There were empty coffee cups all over the table, sheaves of paper spread everywhere, a water cooler by the door. It all looked so
normal
, just like the office I’d spent three brain-numbing weeks in on work experience at Easter.

A grey-haired man sitting next to Dad smiled at me down the table. “Rafe,” he said, “thank you so much for joining us. We really must apologize for any inconvenience, but I’m sure you’ll come to agree how important our work is here, how seriously we take it.”

Dad looked as if he was fighting the urge to strangle me, but said nothing. I’d never seen him look so angry; actually, it was kind of impressive.

“When did you first become interested in the Hidden, Rafe?” asked the guy next to him. I stared wildly around the table. Except for Dad and Miles, they were all so indistinguishable, so bland. Plain suits, forgettable faces. “Could it be that your father—”

“He’s never said anything,” I snapped. “What’s going on? Who are you people?”

Dad gave me another terrifying look but I just stared back, ready for a fight. I’d waited long enough for answers.

Miles turned to me. “Where’s your sister, Rafe?” he asked. “Where’s Lissy?”

I turned to Dad. “They took her,” I said. “Again.”

Dad closed his eyes for a second, as if he wanted to pretend that we had all just disappeared.

“I’m sorry,” said the woman beside me, looking puzzled. “I’m afraid I really don’t see how this is relevant.”

Dad shot Miles a look of purest hatred. “It’s relevant because Melisende Harker is not really my daughter.”

“She’s a hybrid,” Miles said. “The Gateway is open.”

Everyone just sat and stared at him.

“What do you mean, Miles?” the older man said, tapping the end of his biro against the table.

The woman beside me turned to Dad, looking disbelieving. “Your daughter is fourteen years old. If this isn’t some kind of childish joke, and the Gateway really
is
open, why haven’t there been other indications? And for God’s sake, Adam, why didn’t you just shut it again?”

Dad glanced at me sideways. “It’s a long story. They placed Rafe and Connie under a curse. If we tried to shut the Gateway or not give Lissy back, they told us Rafe and Connie would both die. We couldn’t take the risk. Also I presume they didn’t wish to draw undue attention to the fact that we’re now completely unprotected against them, in case
you
did something about it.” Dad gave Miles another filthy look. “They don’t think like us: they don’t need to. The Hidden make long-term plans.”

A few people actually gasped. Dad just stared steadily out of the window. What had it been like for him, all these years, knowing Lissy wasn’t really his kid? That she was some kind of
monster
?

“What, you’re saying interbreeding is genuinely possible?” asked the older man. “But this is extraordinary, if it’s true—”

“What
I
find extraordinary, Professor,” interrupted the woman next to me, “is the fact that Adam hasn’t chosen to share this information with us before now.” I could feel the hostility burning off her in waves. She was furious.

“I really must apologize.” Dad’s tone was pretty acid too, but I felt a fresh jolt of fear. He’d hidden the truth about Lissy for fourteen years. It must have been horrendous: an endless source of worry, stress and paranoia, always wondering if tomorrow would be the day his secret got found out. I surprised myself by feeling sorry for him.

What would they
do
to him? David Creed had been shot in 1917 just for knowing too much about the Hidden. Dad was one of the Fontevrault, and he’d been harbouring a hybrid child for years.

“Adam,” the professor said, “so, are we to assume that your – daughter – is
not
sensitive to iron?”

“Of course not,” Dad snapped. “How could a girl live for fourteen years in the modern world if the slightest contamination of her bloodstream would kill her? If even touching iron would burn her skin? Iron’s in every car, every home, in various compounds and forms. It’s everywhere. She’s half human. Her blood contains an element of iron – Lissy is immune.”

The younger woman who’d shown me her gun earlier gave Dad a tight, angry smile. “So, if Melisende Harker really is a hybrid, we’re now faced with the very eventuality the Fontevrault Group was established to prevent: an immortal girl with no sensitivity to iron. Unbeatable and unstoppable. The Hidden’s perfect killer. And now they have one hybrid, perhaps soon there’ll be more. We all know the dangers, the possibilities. Within a few generations, the human race could be outnumbered by an immortal hybrid species of infinite capability. Those left would be ruled over by despotic leaders who know they will never die, and can’t be destroyed. You failed in your duty, Adam. You’ve betrayed us all.”

“Lissy might not be my real daughter,” Dad said, “but she is my child. My first duty is as a father, to protect her. We have to bring her home – not just for her own safety but for everyone else’s.”

The silence fell again, and I began to see what they were all so afraid of.

Lissy was capable of anything.

Anything at all.

35

I woke to the sound of drumming: a slow steady beat that grew louder every second. I had no way of knowing how long I’d been asleep for, but someone – or some
thing
– was coming closer every second, by the sound of those drums.

If I stepped back into the pond what would happen? Would I find myself back in the garden, with the Fontevrault Group waiting for me? I couldn’t risk it. I was caught between them and the Hidden.

And I couldn’t exactly try to escape, leaving Lissy down here on her own. Bloody Dad and his stupid bloody girlfriend Miriam and her stupid bloody kids.

Behind me, a row of stalactites hung down like frozen spittle. Heaving myself up, aching in every bone, I scrambled behind them and crouched in the shadows. The drumming got louder still, a steady unstoppable beat. I reached into my pocket, closed my fingers around the smooth wooden handle of Rafe’s knife; I tried to imagine using it.

And they came.

They walked in from the shadows: tall, wild-haired, with ragged clothes on their backs, trailing glittering swathes of fabric, leather boots with elaborate silver buckles that clinked as they walked, scrappy furs and skins wrapped around their thin shoulders. The breath froze in my lungs. OK, I was so scared I was terrified I might actually spew again, but it was pretty incredible to see them, these fairy tale creatures. One by one, the Hidden drifted in, melting in from the darkness: they were so human. But
not
.

There must have been a few hundred of them, at least, crowding in, standing so still. Waiting.

There had to be some kind of tunnel, then, an entrance to this place other than the pond – a way out.

The drumming stopped. Silence. They’d hear my heartbeat. Know I was here—

The Hidden gathered around the pond: all silent. Not a single word spoken.

I gripped the handle of Rafe’s knife.
Kill them with iron
—

One walked in on his own, a white cloak of feathers hanging around his shoulders. Silence thickened as he sat in the carved chair, facing that black water, black as his hair. The atmosphere was electric; I could feel power in the air, I mean it. Excitement, fear. He was a leader.

He sang in a language I didn’t understand and the silence afterwards seemed to last for years before Lissy walked in with one of the Hidden. His hood slipped back, showing his knotty red hair: I’d seen him before – the creature who had disappeared into the lake. A little kid stumbled in behind them, as if she’d been pushed. If David Creed had got it right, she was Philippa de Conway. I stared down at my knees pressing against the cold white quartz. I couldn’t look at her: it was just wrong. A three-hundred-year-old child who looked no older than seven or eight, like Connie.

Did this mean the Hidden had the power to make humans immortal? I started shivering and had to sit down, holding onto my knees. If people knew about this it would change the world completely.

Everyone would want to live for ever.

Not that it looked as if anyone would find out, because how could I escape this place? Maybe this was why no one knew about the Hidden. Nobody ever left their hideout alive, and if they did, the Fontrevault Group would be waiting to eliminate all the evidence.

The leader in the feather-cloak spoke again. Lissy and the red-headed boy kind of huddled closer together, and that was when I saw it:
she looked like him
. OK, she was very tall for a girl, and they both had red hair, which always stands out. But it wasn’t just that.

Her face was the echo of his.

Lissy was one of them
.

A wave of cold horror rolled through my body.

Now all I could see was how inhuman she was: that quick, snake-like way she moved. I’d no idea how I hadn’t noticed it before. I’d known all along she was different.

Just not
this
different.

I couldn’t understand what the feather-cloak freak was saying, but the boy flinched every time he spoke. Lissy looked terrified, wrapping her arms across her chest, shivering. The little girl crept across and Lissy took her hand.

The red-headed boy stepped forwards, shouting in a wild ragged voice.

And then Lissy spoke, too, almost whispering. In that same whispery sing-song language I’d never heard before.

How could she do that? It took years to learn a language. Had Rafe known all along his sister was one of them? This was why she’d been taken, why Miriam was so protective.

Miriam wasn’t just afraid the Hidden might come after Lissy, but the Fontevrault Group as well.

The feather-cloaked guy just snapped out what had to have been an order, and a whole mass of Hidden moved in as one, hundreds of them stepping closer, ragged black cloaks swirling around their ankles. The sound of their footfalls echoed through the cave like a drumbeat, the glittering clink of inhuman jewellery as they moved, the swish of ragged cloth through the still air.

The boy shouted out again.

“No!” yelled the little girl, in English. “Leave her alone!”

Lissy. They were going to do something to her. I stood up, gripping onto the nearest stalactite. It felt slippery and cool, hard but brittle, like I could have ripped it right off the ceiling of the cavern.

Feather-cloak took hold of Lissy, grabbing her by the arm, and I caught a flash of glinting metal. He was holding a knife.

He was going to kill her.

The boy dropped to his knees, whispering something I couldn’t hear. The little girl started to cry.

Lissy just stared straight ahead. Right at me. Her eyes widened. She’d seen me.

Moving fast, Feather-cloak reached out and pulled Lissy towards him; she pushed at his arm, speaking in that weird language again, but he was obviously far stronger than her. He turned her facing out towards the crowd, put his hand on her forehead, tilting back her head.

He held the blade to her throat.

“No!” I shouted before even thinking, lunging out from behind the crop of stalactites: all I knew was I couldn’t stand by and watch a girl being killed.

I had the iron knife.

Everything froze. Lissy just stared at me, her eyes wide with fear. The Hidden all turned to stare, all with the blank, know-it-all expressions of cats.

I tried to step forwards again but I couldn’t move my own legs, never mind lift my right arm, never mind the knife, my only weapon.

No one spoke. Not a word. All I could hear was the little girl, crying quietly.

Feather-cloak just smiled, and drew the knife across Lissy’s throat.

36

Joe—

There he was, so close, looking at me. Green eyes with grey flecks, the first time I’d noticed them—

A line of burning pain spread across my neck.

Tippy screamed.

I was dying. Down here in this hole. I would choke, drown in my own blood. So I
could
die, after all; well that was something worth knowing. I could die and this was it.

I heard Joe yell, “Let her go, let her go!”

But the Swan King only laughed. I was still breathing. My neck stung; I felt a line of something warm oozing down my skin, but that was it. I saw a flash of silver, and he let me fall to my knees. I leaned forwards, drawing in gasps of cold air. I was alive. The knife had barely scratched my skin, just enough to draw blood. I staggered to my feet, nearly knocked straight over by Tippy who rushed across and hugged me hard around the waist. We held hands, her fingers warm in mine.

“Joe!” I gasped. “What are you doing here?”

But he just shook his head, and I started crying, tears streaming down my face. Joe had come for me when no one else did, and I thought there was no hope of escaping. Now he was a prisoner.

“Stop crying, you daft cow.” Joe’s voice was even and steady, as if we’d just met in the park. “I don’t know what your mam’s been up to, but I need to have serious words with my dad about his choice of girlfriend.” And he smiled at me.

Brave and stupid. “You idiot,” I said. There was no way he’d be allowed to live after this, after what he’d seen.

But Joe just reached out and pulled me to my feet. We hardly knew each other, and he’d followed me
here
. Of all places. With a friend like that at my back, I could have gone anywhere, done anything, knowing I was safe.

The Swan King held up a small silver bowl. Had he taken my
blood
? The Hidden watched, each one silent and still as a hunting cat ready to pounce.