The White Fox (11 page)

Then he stumbled and fell, and time returned to normal. Looking up, he ignored the searing pain in his knees, for what he saw filled him with dread. A column of impenetrable ebony smoke was forming behind Icarus, and, as if from all around, the black cloaks were diving into the pit towards it. They formed a circle—facing outwards around it—standing erect, but the bolts of bright energy shooting towards them from their attackers were fizzling out before they reached their targets. One by one, they replaced their hoods and held up their right hands, palm outwards. Purple thorn patterns traced over the veins, forming into twisting roses, wrapping themselves over the entire bodies and intertwining with the dark smoke. The black cloaks vanished, ghostlike, into the wall of darkness.

Icarus caught Jack’s eye. The blue there burned with satisfaction and malicious pleasure. Then he was gone into the blackness and Alex with him.

Jack’s gaze switched to the only remaining cloak, just in time to see one of those bolts of lightning arch down onto him. A burst of blinding light, agony, then darkness himself.

Jack came to very slowly, becoming firstly aware of the slight rumbling motion of what he was resting on and then the noise of the engine around him. He finally had the energy to open his eyes. He was staring through a pane of glass, looking at the passing scene of trees and countryside, barely visible by the illumination of amber road lights. He turned his head and flinched as pain exploded into his neck—it was blinding white; he couldn’t see; he could only feel again the surge of lightning that had coursed down his spine, setting every nerve alight.

As the pain receded, he became aware of where he was. He was sitting in the backseat of a small, grubby-looking car. Someone was watching him. In the front passenger seat was the girl in the Kevlar he had seen fighting earlier, now with a very out-of-place tan jacket over her body armor. She had short blonde hair and very blue eyes. She could have been only a few years older than Alex, if that.

“Are you okay?” she said. Her voice seemed strangely familiar.

“I’m alright,” Jack replied, massaging his neck.

“What did they hit you with?”

“What? Oh, this sort of black lightning bolt.”

The girl frowned. “You should be okay, I think …”

Jack thought about it. His memory was a bit fuzzy. There had been a crescent moon and a hyena-wolf creature and lots of brightly colored lights. And Alex. Then the full magnitude of what had just happened cascaded down to hit him like an avalanche.

“What’s going on?” he cried in a voice that was much higher than his usual one. He strained against the seat belt. “Who are you people? Where’s Lucy? What was that? Where are we? What happened to Alex?” He faltered. More memories crashed down. The knife. Alex falling. The purple patterns, then black smoke disappearing into the night. Icarus smiling at him. He punched the seat in front of him hard.

“Hey,” said a man’s heavily accented voice, “don’t do that.” For the first time, Jack became aware of the driver.

The girl looked at Jack sympathetically. “Calm down. It’s okay. We’ll tell you.”

“Gaby, we can’t—”

“Look what just happened to him. I think he deserves to know what’s going on.”

“Sardâr wouldn’t—”

“Well, Sardâr isn’t here, is he?” When the man didn’t answer, she continued more kindly. “My name’s Gaby, and this is Malik.”

The Indian-looking man driving nodded at them in the rearview mirror.

“We’re part of an organization called the Apollonians. I … we … help people, in a manner of speaking.”

“So you’re not with the Cult of Dionysus?”

“Us? No! Definitely not. Actually, the reason the Apollonians was founded was to—”

“Gaby …,” Malik grunted warningly, turning left at a roundabout.

“He needs to know—”

“Not
that
much.”

“Sorry about him,” Gaby said, regarding Malik coldly.

“What happened to Alex? Where’s Lucy?”

“Your friend—Lucy?—is safe. Don’t worry. You’ll be seeing her in just a few minutes. As for Alex, we’re not sure. He was obviously taken by the Cult, but we don’t know why yet. More to the point, what were
you
doing there?”

Jack quickly recounted the story from when he’d left school to their arrival at the orchard. He left out the part with the fox, although he wasn’t really sure why. Maybe they’d think he was mad, or maybe they’d take the crystal that the strange creature had given him. Alex had told him to keep it secret. As subtly as he could, he felt the string around his neck and tucked it lower under his now filthy school shirt.

“Right …,” Gaby said, exchanging a look with Malik.

It was clear that they didn’t believe him. Through the haze of the headache, he felt a prick of annoyance that he was not being believed by two people who claimed to represent a secret organization that fought off demon-summoning sorcerers. “So, where are we going?”

“We surprised the Cult when we attacked,” explained Malik. “They got sloppy and didn’t keep their surveillance up. But they’ll return with reinforcements within hours. We need to get the two of you out of here. All our agents have taken different routes back to headquarters to throw off any trackers.”

They spent the remainder of the journey in silence. Jack wasn’t sure what to think. He could pass this whole experience off as a horrific nightmare and wake up in his bed tomorrow morning with everything unchanged, but it all seemed so real. And there was the matter of the fox. Just afterwards, he had thought that had been a hallucination or some trick. But then there was the hellhound, the crescent moon machine that changed the weather, and these two organizations that appeared to be able to create and throw energy at each other. What little he had paid attention to about waves and particles in physics seemed to completely contradict this. It was like something out of a surreal sci-fi film.

And then he had the crystal, and so did Alex. Where did that fit into all this? The fact that he was being driven somewhere by two complete strangers in the middle of the night barely registered on the scale of events. If they weren’t with the Cult of Dionysus—why should they be, having fought them off?—then he was content with them for now. And they said they were taking him to where Lucy was …

About half an hour later, the scenery changed. They had exited the motorway onto a rough dirt track that led off between two grassy slopes. Wooden fences with barbed wire suggested sheep or cows, though after a few minutes they passed under the cover of trees. These were not the apple trees of the Birchwood orchard but tall, widely spread oaks. The track continued to the left, showered with autumnal leaves. Straight ahead, a smaller track led up a hill.

The car slowed. They had reached an ornately decorated gateway, the stained and crumbling cherub statues on either column oddly silhouetted in the light of lamps on each side. Jack looked out his window. The manor above them was a block of darkness against the night sky. A few disparate trees were scattered about the hillside like lost children. They began to climb the rough path to the house.

They reached a courtyard-type area, and the car crunched to a halt in the gravel. Malik turned off the engine, and Gaby got out. Jack got out too, and as he stood up he winced. It felt like needles had been applied to his ankles by a vengeful spinster. Apparently that bolt of energy had done something.

Closer up, it could be seen that the manor was of reddish brick. Tall windows were set at regular intervals on four levels, and Jack spotted three separate chimneys pointing squarely out of the top. The main entrance was flanked by wild, untended wisteria, which almost blocked the front door. There was only a single light, coming from somewhere over a wall to the left of the entrance.

Gaby led the way, and Jack followed. They reached a wooden door that filled the gap between the manor and high brick wall. Gaby pushed it, and it creaked open. The two of them entered. Malik made a brief sweep of the area and followed.

Inside was an enclosed garden. Red, blue, and yellow flowers had probably once formed a heraldic crest shape on the beds, but now the colors had all merged into one another, ruining the pattern. The noise of a fountain, half-blocked, spluttered somewhere behind the shapeless bushes, and a couple of trees crept over the wall and out to freedom in the corners.

The three of them took the path hugging the manor. The light up ahead came from an old-fashioned metal lantern overhanging another door, this one going into the building. Gaby reached it and stopped. The others piled up behind her. She glanced at Jack, then pressed her hand against the door. A small symbol, composed of faint turquoise light, traced itself above her palm. She removed her hand and, with her finger, drew a second symbol, this one in blue. The two hung on the wood for a moment, then moved over one another and sunk into the door. It creaked open.

Gaby stepped in and stood aside. Within was very gloomy. Jack glanced apprehensively into the darkness and joined Gaby. Malik entered last and pulled the door shut behind him.

Outside, the wind blew through the oaks, scattering their leaves. The gates rattled, and the chains holding them shut creaked. A sign was framed on the redbrick wall next to it. Though faded with age and with much of it peeled off completely, two words were still distinguishable.

As Jack’s eyes adjusted to the dark, he began to see his surroundings. They were in a wide corridor. A moth-bitten old red carpet stretched down the hall, past some ancient-looking wooden stairs carved with eagles on the banisters. The wallpaper was faded regal blue with chipped gold fleur-de-lis in lines and columns. Ashes and soot had been discharged all around a derelict fireplace, blackening the worn speckled marble. The ceiling and ornamental chandelier were knotted with cobwebs. Used candles and fallen pieces of wood and leaves were scattered across the floor. The only light emanated from an open door farther down.

Malik led the way down the hall. Jack caught his reflection in a stained mirror over the mantelpiece. He looked a state; his face was shot red with the cold, and his hair and clothes were clotted with mud and leaves.

They reached the door, and Malik motioned for them to stop. He slid inside, and indistinct voices could be heard from within. He poked his head around the door and beckoned them in. The other two entered.

This room was in a little better condition than the hallway. It was quite a large drawing room, with cabinets and bookcases set against the walls, all also knotted with cobwebs. The only light issued from a crackling fire, throwing flickering shadows onto the walls. Two armchairs and a sofa were clustered around a rug in front of the fire. Only three other people appeared to be there—one in an armchair, one slouched on the sofa, and one at a desk on the other side of the fire. The one at the desk was on a laptop. The two next to the fire both seemed to be waiting for something.

Jack heard a scream, and something hurtled at him from his left, almost knocking him off his feet. It took him a moment to realize the bundle of hair, mud, and limbs was Lucy. She was hugging on to him like a small child, her body jerking with badly contained sobs.