Portent, A Ravensborough Novella (The Ravensborough Saga) (5 page)

Biting back the numerous witty come backs, I settled for nodding my head.

‘You’re going to have to start speaking up, young lady,’ said one Guard. His name badge said Dave. It was such an innocuous sounding name. He looked normal too. He certainly didn’t look like a conspiracy theory in real life, and once again I was brought back to the ridiculousness of the situation. I was meant to be relaxing tonight, enjoying some rare free time off without worrying about studying. Despite my brave words, I wondered selfishly if I should have just continued with my exam and let fate take its course.

‘We’re going to switch on the tape recorder now,’ said Dave. ‘We record all interviews and it’s as much for your protection as ours.’

I doubted that. Still, it was probably best that we get this over with as quick as possible. Then maybe I could go home.

‘So, do you want to tell us why you’ve decided to put a bomb in Darkfield?’

‘I didn’t do that,’ I protested. ‘I have no reason to.’

‘Really? That’s not what your good friend Morgan Jenkins has to say about the matter.’

I froze. That couldn’t be possible. There was no way that Morgan would sell me out like that. I might have been annoyed by his casual indifference to me on occasion, but we were friends. Or at least I had thought we were. There had to be some mistake, right? This couldn’t be happening.

‘You must be mistaken,’ I said, sounding a lot more confident than I felt. ‘We’re friends, and he knows me. He knows that I have no connection with terrorist organizations. We talked for hours, he knows everything about me.’

‘Does he now?’ said Dave. He made a note on his file.

I instantly realised my mistake. ‘No, that’s not what I meant. I mean, his mother is a big deal in politics. He was always mindful of her reputation. There was no way he would have risked her reputation by hanging out with me if he thought that I was some kind of Pagan nutcase.’

Dave gave me an appraising look. ‘Morgan told us that you only found out about his mother being a councillor last night.’

That was true.

'Yes, but when he pointed it out, a lot of stuff he'd said before made sense,' I argued desperately. 'You must have misunderstood him. We'd talked about terrorism, and how it was responsible for giving the rest of us a bad name. I'd never be involved with anything like that, I just couldn't go there. I don't know why you won't believe me.'

Something else occurred to me.

'Anyway, isn't most terrorism that Pagans are part of usually part of some offensive strategy against Rationalists? Why would a Pagan bomb more Pagans? What would they gain?' It just didn’t make sense.

'Most terrorists do attack people of a different affiliation,' Dave conceded. 'But that's presuming a very narrow definition of terrorist motives.'

He'd lost me. 'What do you mean?'

'Well, for an act to be considered a terrorist attack it has to satisfy a number of strict criteria,' he explained. 'But the main one is that it is the use of violence, or terror if you will, as a means of furthering an ideological goal. There are more ideological goals out there than merely pitting Rationalists against Pagans.'

'That much I know,' I said tiredly. 'So what's your point?'

'You're a priestess of a very old Pagan chapter, is that right?'

'That's correct, acting priestess, anyway.' The Daughters of Morrigan had their roots back in ancient Irish mythology. It was one of the oldest surviving Pagan chapters in Avalonia.

'And you worship the goddess Morrigan, is that right?' he asked.

'Yes,' I said. I was slightly surly, but only because I knew there was something afoot here. From his manner I could tell that he was one step ahead of me, but I had yet to figure out exactly how.

'Morrigan...the name means queen of nightmares, is that correct?'

I rolled my eyes. 'Phantom Queen is the translation we prefer.'

'But the name can be interpreted as queen of nightmares? '

'Yes.'

He gave me a small smile that held little mirth. He knew that he was getting to me.

'And what, pray tell, is she the goddess of?'

Every fibre of my being wanted to flip the guy off. But I knew that wouldn't go down well. I considered not answering me, but I didn't want to give him a chance to mark me as uncooperative.

'War. Death.'

'Hmmm. Interesting.'

I rolled my eyes. 'There are loads of goddesses for things. That doesn’t mean that their followers actually do what their goddess does. I know for a fact that not all the Daughters of Artemis are actual virgins.'

He looked confused. I sighed. I always forgot about how little these people knew about Pagan deities. I wondered if I should clarify things, but he moved on.

'Tell me about the Reckoning,' he asked.

The Reckoning was a belief we had that there was going to come a time when the ancestors of the land rose and created havoc. It had fallen out of favour with most Pagans. Like Dave said, Morrigan was one of the ancient chapters. The goddesses of war were underused these days, and little consulted. The days when a prayer to the goddess of war may spare your soul in battle were long gone, thankfully, but that didn't mean that these deities weren't useful anymore. It certainly didn't mean that their warnings should go unheeded.

'You know about the Reckoning,' I sighed. He was toying with me, playing with me like a cat with a mouse before they eat it.

'Tell me again,' he insisted. 'Start acting like a high priestess and less like a sulky teenager.'

'There's no need for that kind of talk,' said Bran. 'You haven't actually charged her with anything yet, and this is a very unusual line of questioning.'

'I am going somewhere with this,' Dave insisted. 'Though it would be quicker if she cooperated.'

God he was annoying. I summarised the main points for him again.

'So your role in this is...'

'To warn people about what's coming and to help them make provisions.'

'Does your duty extend to Rationalists as well?' asked Dave.

'Of course,' I said through gritted teeth. This was where his antagonism came from? The fact that we didn't go door to door trying to convince Rationalists to take cover because the Pagan apocalypse is on its way? 'Though like you said, we're not exactly a popular chapter. Even less so now that Darkfield is pretty much an urban wasteland. So we're kind of focusing on converting those who actually believe in the supernatural first.'

'Morrigan is all about death, isn't she? Creepy crows, choosing who's slain in battle, communicating with the dead, right?'

'That's a fairly blunt sum up, but what the hell. Yes.'

'So, might it be fair to say that you guys might be less sensitive to death than other folks, it's just a quiet move over and all that jazz?'

'And all that jazz?'

'Just answer the question.'

I could feel the nudge of Bran's knee under the table telling me to cool it. He was probably right, but this guy was a pain in the proverbial. 'No, we don't value life less than other chapters or churches if that's what you're implying. We value life just as much as the next sane person.’

'Huh,’ he scoffed. ‘That's assuming anyone thinks you're actually sane.'

I'd had enough. I lay both palms on the table and leaned across towards Dave. 'You'd want to be careful there. I mean, you wouldn't want to be accused of mocking me because of my religion, would you?'

Dave wasn’t moved by my empty threat. He lay back in his chair and crossed his arms across his chest. He gave that irritating smirk that my hands itched to slap off his face. 'Of course not, not with the way you deal with your opponents anyway.'

'What are you trying to imply?'

'It's hard isn't it? You're a poor girl from a dead-end part of town, and somebody finally gives you a job that makes you feel respectable. Like you're actually someone. How fantastic for you. But then you realise, wait. This chapter is probably the crappiest Pagan gig in the city. Not only do Rationalists think I'm crazy, but we're a laughing stock amongst Pagans too. We're ridiculous.'

I sighed and threw my hands up in the air in exasperation. 'Right, so what? Just because we're not the number one choice for every influential Pagan in Avalonia that makes me unstable? I hate to correct you, but I've been a Daughter since birth. All the women in my family have been. The ancient texts tell us that we have to warn people about the Reckoning before it starts, so that's what we do. We can't make them listen. We can just give them the information and let them decide for themselves. Have you ever heard of Cassandra?'

'No.'

'God, do you guys learn nothing about the world other than your good, safe Rationalist practices?' I asked, my tone full of disgust.

'Just because we don't mess around with the dead doesn't mean there's anything wrong with us, you know,' he said.

'Maybe you'd want to think twice before messing around with someone who can forsee your death.'

'What, is that a threat?' he asked.

'No, and besides,' I closed my eyes to get a better read on it. 'I don't know how you're going to die but it's not going to be soon. And it is going to peaceful.' Foreseeing how people would die was one of my ‘gifts’, I hadn’t really found a good application for it yet. All I knew was that it wouldn't exactly make me popular at dinner parties.

I saw a glimmer of something in his eyes and sighed again. Why was it that, when we said something they disagreed, with we were monsters, but they wanted to believe us when we said something positive?

My telling him something good about his future had apparently convinced him that I was being cooperative. He decided to lay his cards on the table.

'Look, Morgan Jenkins has said that he had several conversations in which you expressed huge bitterness about your chapter's position in Avalonian society.'

That hadn't been true, in actual fact I had expressed huge bitterness about the entire burden of the Daughters falling on my shoulders.

'Look, my chapter has never been the leading light in Avalonia. Ever. We may be regarded as a bunch of cranks, but I'm used to that. Why would it get to me now?'

'Why would Morgan lie?'

'I haven't fucking clue.'

'Kara!' Bran admonished. Oh for the love of Hectate, he was meant to be my associate not my nanny.

'The information that Morgan has provided, along with what we know of your chapter and yourself lead us to believe that you may have planted the bomb as an act of vengeance against those who laughed at you and disbelieved your claims.'

I shot up out of my chair. 'That's the most ridiculous thing I ever heard' Bran jumped up, grabbed my shoulder and pushed me down into my seat. I couldn't believe this. It was insane.

'We've been talking to some of your professors in college, along with some of your classmates. The consensus is that you're withdrawn, anti-social and not very reliable. You miss a lot of classes.'

'But none of that is a crime!' I cried, my voice sounding shrill and high pitched. That was the reason for the delay, I realised. They were busy putting together this dossier, compiling a character assassination of me to frame me for this crime.

But why would they want to do that? I didn't understand, I didn't get it. There was something I was missing here.

'It's not a crime but it supports the theory that you have a personality type that is associated with these kinds of attacks. You have a motive, and you were in the area at the time of the attack. You know the area fairly well. You thought you could get in and out undetected by saying that you were at your exam - '

'But everybody saw me leave!' I said. 'That would be stupid!' I didn't know why but I was latching on to the most ridiculous parts of this story. I think the whole thing was just too much to take in in one go.

'You're also a chemistry student who would know how to put together this type of bomb in her sleep.'

'I don't even know what type of bomb it was!' I protested.

'Really?' asked Dave, 'Then how is it that you were able to tell the receptionist at the Centre for Pagan Records exactly how far this bomb was going to spread was, eh? Explain that if you will.'

He had me. I'd nothing to say.

'Kara Bjorkman you are being charged on suspicion of planting a dangerous weapon. You do not have to say anything, but anything that you do say may be used against you in court.'

I put my head in my hands and wept.

'As you know,' Dave said as he gathered his papers together, addressing Bran this time. 'In cases such as this we don't allow bail. Ms. Bjorkman will be in gaol until her court case.’

The female Guard, who had said nothing while all of this was going on, shot me a dirty look. Nice.

Court case. It was just too much to take in.

'I'll go and talk with the officer about the details of your imprisonment,' said Bran gravely, giving me another paternal pat on the back. 'I'll be back in a minute, ok?'

They left me then, the officer locking the door behind him. It was one of the sounds I'd have to get used to.

What was I going to do? This hadn’t been part of the plan. I hadn’t even told my mother. That was one phone call I wasn’t looking forward to making.

So there was going to be a court case. I was encouraged by the fact that Bran seemed to think that the evidence was circumstantial, but that still left me languishing at the Avalonian government’s pleasure in a jail cell. And how long it would take to actually get to the court case? The ramifications of what Dave had said hit me full force. How would I cope with being locked up? It was unfair that I was being punished for doing the right thing. Thinking of myself and finishing my exam would mean that I would be at home watching events unfold on television. Instead I felt as if I was trapped inside a television programme.

I heard the scrape of a key in the lock. I presumed it was the guards returning, but I was wrong. Standing in front of me was Morgan.

CHAPTER FIVE

‘You have some nerve,’ I hissed as he entered the cell and closed the door behind him. ‘How did you even manage to bluff your way in here?’