Revenge (3 page)

Silence took over again.

‘Probably just a possum,' I suggested.

I picked up the disc from her open palm. It was a red wax seal that looked like it had come off the back of an envelope. Stamped into the wax was a picture of a falling angel. It looked like the Ormond Angel, from Cragkill Keep, only this one looked frightened and defeated, its huge wings clearly battered and broken. I turned it over. A torn film of creamy paper clung to the back.

I looked up at Winter, confused. ‘I don't get it. What is this?'

‘I don't know, but I'd like to find out. I just found it in Cal's room, on the floor by the
window. I went upstairs to see if his bag was still there.'

‘And?'

‘His bag was under his desk, where he always leaves it.'

‘So he's taken off without his bag, without his phone … what about his wallet?'

Winter shook her head. ‘He must have it with him. At least, I
hope
he has it with him.'

I held the wax seal up to the light for a closer look.

‘Weird, right?' Winter asked. ‘Cal disappears without a word, leaves his phone and his bag, and then I find that on the floor. What do you think it's from? What does it mean?'

I didn't know the answer to that. And I didn't like it. The image of the angel was too close to home. Especially when no-one knew where Cal was.

I handed the seal back to Winter. Once more, I felt a lie slip from my lips. ‘Don't read into it. It's probably nothing.'

I could tell by the way her dark eyes were glazing over that she didn't believe it was
nothing
. ‘You don't think it has anything to do with that Willoughby guy, do you? Pulling another stupid stunt?'

‘No, I'm pretty sure he learned his lesson after last time. There's no way Cal would let him off the hook again, and he knows that. His career would be over.'

There was this local journalist, Ben
Willoughby
, who'd been hanging around Cal's place like a bad smell. First, we caught him
spray-painting
‘No Psycho' on the Ormonds' garage. Next, he tried to talk to Gabbi just outside the house, asking her about that day last year when she was attacked—the day Cal's life on the run began. Luckily, Ryan saw Gab being hassled so he tackled Ben and grabbed him in a headlock, refusing to let go until he explained what he was doing. It turned out the Ormond story had “gone quiet”, and Willoughby was trying to liven it up with something he thought would get Cal angry, giving him something to write about.

We wanted to take it to the police, but Cal refused, telling Ryan to let it go. He didn't want to give the media what they wanted—another story.

Winter put her hands on her hips and sighed. ‘So what do we do, Boges?'

‘I think we just have to wait. You saw the look on Mrs O's face tonight when she thought Cal had run off. As soon as she sensed something was up, she started crumbling. It's been so long
since she was … like that. She's just getting her life back on track and I don't think it would take much to send her spiralling again. We have to convince her everything's fine until Cal shows up. OK?'

‘Just call me if he turns up at the lab
tomorrow
… please?'

‘I'm sure he will,' I said unconvincingly.

I switched on Cal's phone and a photo of his mum, sister and girlfriend stared back at me. Quickly I typed out a message.

My stomach churned as my finger hovered over ‘send', and that wasn't because of all the piroshki I ate after devouring Mrs Ormond's lasagne earlier. I hated not knowing where Cal was, and my interview nerves were getting worse. Even though Cal had offered me anything I wanted from the Ormond fortune, I wanted to land the NASA internship and make it on my own terms.

I really didn't like what I was about to do, but I was doing it for my best friend.

I finally pressed ‘send'.

hi mum, going to crash at ryan's tonight. we're watching movies. c u tomorrow.

Just a minute later, Cal's phone beeped,
alerting
me to an incoming message.

 ok honey. say hi to your brother for me. have fun and don't stay up too late. you have to go to school tomorrow for that group assignment, remember. we missed you today. love you lots, mum and gab xx

It had only been a day, I told myself. Cal was big enough to take one day out without having to tell us about it.

I'd see him in the morning at school—a few of us were meeting up to get a head start on a group science project due next term. Cal would tell me he'd just needed a break, or that he'd lost track of time helping out Repro with some sort of crazy project in his new place … or that he'd gone to visit that Melba Snipe lady who had helped him when he was on the run. I glared at my textbooks, still sitting in that stack. I'd lied to Mum and Gran tonight about studying. I'd done nothing since I got home from Cal's but check my emails, stare at my fish tank and watch my phone, willing it to ring.

But no matter how hard I tried to convince
myself, and Winter, that Cal was OK—wherever he was—I couldn't shake the sick feeling in my stomach.

I tossed and turned in bed just as I had those nights, months ago, when I hadn't heard from Cal for days and had no idea where he was … or whether he was even still alive.

I broke out in a sweat, a familiar feeling resurfacing.

Fear
.

DAY 2

29 days to go …

I huddled behind the bushes, waiting outside for Winter. I didn't want to walk in on my own and have to deal with Gab and Mrs O's questions.

All day long my eyes had darted back and forth towards the lab door. But Cal never showed. I told everyone he was sick, and that he'd
promised
to make up for his part of the assignment another day. I guess it was obvious my mind was elsewhere because everyone kept asking me if I was OK.

Winter had phoned about a dozen times, and she'd convinced me to meet her again at Flood Street. As much as neither of us wanted to admit to Mrs O that we had no idea where her son was, we had to tell her. She was going to flip out, but we just didn't know what else to do.

Leaves rustled again, like we'd heard last night. I glanced around, looking for Winter. In the bushes on the other side of the driveway, I spotted movement.

‘Hey,' I said firmly, walking over. ‘Who's there?'

The figure slowly retreated.

‘Cal?' I asked. ‘Is that—' A car drove by on the street behind me, its headlights
momentarily
lighting up the dark figure. ‘Willoughby!' I shouted, lunging at him. The journalist groaned and kicked out in shock as I grabbed him in a headlock, like I'd seen Ryan do. ‘What do you think you're doing here?!'

‘Get off me!'

‘I thought we told you already to get the—' The Ormonds' entrance light suddenly came on. I covered Willoughby's mouth and pulled him down, out of sight. ‘Shh!' I hissed as he struggled and groaned.

I swore as he bit hard on my fingers in reply.

Gabbi's face appeared at the front door. She stepped out and looked around the front yard. Her hair was loose, hanging around her shoulders. She was wearing an oversized pair of blue-
and-white
striped pyjamas and ugg boots.

Then, satisfied that nothing unusual was going on, she went back inside and closed the
door while I struggled to contain Willoughby.

I loosened my grip around his mouth. ‘What do you think you're doing out here?'

He shoved me away and I fell into a thorny rose bush. He was small and scrawny-looking, but seriously strong. I jumped back onto my feet and towered over him.

‘Answer me,' I said. I grabbed the collar of his shirt with both hands. ‘What are you doing here, hiding in the bushes?'

‘I just—'

At that moment, Winter ran up the driveway, right over to us, and wrenched Ben Willoughby clean out of my grip. ‘What is
this
,' she said, pulling the journalist away, ‘doing on Cal's
property
again?'

A black camera crashed to the ground and Winter kicked it hard across the road and under a streetlight. It collided with the kerb and the lens cracked loudly. The shutter clicked senselessly.

Willoughby swore and shook himself free. ‘You can pay for that!' he said, scowling at his damaged camera. He straightened his light grey shirt that was now smeared with grass stains, and combed back his black hair with his hands as I sized him up. He was probably only a few years older than me. His weaselly lime-green eyes glared out of
black-rimmed glasses that appeared to be more for looking cool than for improving his vision.

‘What do you want with Cal?' I snapped. ‘Can't you just leave him and his family alone? Don't you think he's been through enough?'

‘I'm just trying to do my job,' he said through gritted teeth. ‘
The Psycho Kid
's not here, anyway,' he added. ‘I haven't seen him since the other night.'

Winter stepped up to him again. ‘What do you mean, “the other night”?'

Willoughby smirked, clearly enjoying
antagonising
us. ‘I
mean
, I haven't seen him since the other night. It was around midnight and he came out here, yelling about me leaving him some sort of note.'

‘
Note
?' I asked. ‘You'd better keep talking, dude, or we'll call the police.'

Willoughby smirked again. ‘Go ahead. I'm sure they'll be interested in how my camera ended up smashed on the roadside.'

‘Yeah, and I'm sure they'll want to know about you harassing Gabbi—a kid—just for a lead, won't they?' I retorted. I pulled out my phone and started dialling.

‘OK, OK,' he quickly agreed. ‘Chill out.'

‘So, talk!'

‘I'd been up at the local petrol station,
covering
a story on last week's armed hold-up—'

‘Sounds riveting,' I said.

He scowled at me again before continuing. ‘And when I was done there, I decided to swing by Flood Street on my way home. As I was
strolling
by, Cal came charging out of the house, shouting and carrying on.'

‘Why was he shouting? What did you do to him?'

‘I hadn't done anything. Some car had slowed down out the front of his house, so of course he instantly thinks it's the paparazzi, out to get him. Then he starts shouting
my
name, accusing
me
of sending him a note.'

Winter backed away, looking down at the ground, as we both tried desperately to process what Willoughby was saying.

Someone had sent Cal a note. A threatening note. A note sealed with an impression of a
falling
angel?

‘And then what?' I said.

‘And then nothing. I took off.' Willoughby's voice suddenly dropped in tone. ‘Why, what's happened to him? Where is he?' He dug into his pocket and pulled out a tiny recording device, swiftly activating it with his thumb. He waved it in our faces. ‘Do you know where he is, Bodhan? Winter?'

Winter swung at him, but he jerked the recorder out of her reach.

‘So where's Cal?' he taunted. ‘Clearly you're both worried. I thought he'd want to be with his family, after tearing their lives apart.'

‘You'd better shut your mouth right now,' Winter threatened.

‘Well, he did fly all the way to Ireland to kill his uncle … not to mention your former guardian, Vulkan Sligo, who you all watched suffocate to death in the mud.'

‘Winter, don't listen to him,' I said.

‘And
Sumo
,' said Willoughby, ‘who also
suffered
a muddy demise, as I recall. And let's not forget the Zombrovski brothers! One plunged from a bell tower and broke his neck, thanks to Ormond, the other joined Sumo and Sligo in the mud. Sheldrake Rathbone—bogs. Nelson Sharkey—crushed by earthmover—'

‘Enough!' Winter's face was furious. She swung at him again … and missed.

‘He's just trying to get a reaction out of us,' I said, to calm her down. ‘Everyone knows the true story now. Don't listen to him.'

‘So where is he?' Willoughby asked again, swinging the recorder over to me. ‘Who's next on Cal's hit list? Maybe Ryan, or should I say,
Sam
? I bet Cal doesn't like sharing his mother's affections, hmm? And Boges? Could
you
be next?
You seem to be spending a lot of late nights with Winter recently …'

I swatted the recorder away and grabbed at his collar again. ‘He's taken off to get a break from people like you,' I said. ‘Now you better get out of here before I really call the cops.'

Ben Willoughby's rant had left us reeling. I didn't care what he had to say about the people who'd been killed during the search for the DMO. I was only interested in the note.

Cal was normally so careful whenever he thought a photographer or a reporter was nearby. What kind of note could have tempted him out of the house at midnight, hurling abuse into the darkness? Why was the note stamped with an image of a falling angel? And if Willoughby wasn't behind it, then who was?

‘We can't go inside now and face Mrs O with all this,' I said.

Winter nodded. ‘We need to figure out what's going on first. Why don't I check in with Ryan again, and maybe Griff Kirby, too?' said Winter. ‘See if they've heard anything.'

‘OK, I'll head over to Repro's then, just in case Cal's there. And when I get home, I'll run some
online checks to see whether he's used his ATM card somewhere.'

Winter smiled hopefully. ‘So what will we do about Mrs Ormond tonight?' she asked before we separated. ‘We can't just ignore her. She'll freak out if she doesn't hear from Cal again.'

‘I'll look after it,' I whispered. I wrapped my arms around my friend and patted her back. She was shivering. ‘And don't worry about Cal. Maybe he'd reached breaking point with everyone being so in his face about his story, especially if Willoughby spouted any of that insane garbage to him. You know what it's been like for us—I can't tell you the amount of times my
gran
has been stopped at the grocery store and asked whether she's the grandmother of the Psycho Kid's best friend. It's crazy! And Cal has been copping it way worse—he must just need some time out.'

Winter pulled away from me. ‘Boges, I'm not an idiot. And I know you're not, either. You don't even believe what you're saying right now! You're scratching your head and doing that
nervous
cough. There's no way Cal would put us through this again. No way. We both know that. Something seriously bad is going on. I knew this was coming.'

‘What do you mean?'

‘You know I haven't felt right since leaving Ireland. The whole 365-day nightmare doesn't feel over. Sure, I have my house back, plus the other Frey properties … but my mum and dad are gone forever. Cal started feeling like his old self again as soon as he was back home in Richmond, but for me it's different. Maybe it's because I couldn't go back to having my family like he could.'

Winter pulled her jacket up around her chin, and shuddered.

‘I don't know if it's because Vulkan taught me to be distrustful, wary and, well, paranoid,' she said, ‘but … I still watch my back, Boges.'