The garden was illuminated by moving spotlights and strings of lights hung from tree to tree. Small groups of people were huddled together, blowing cigarette smoke into the rain-filled sky.
Hamid looked over his shoulder and I ducked behind a sculpture of a woman holding a vase just in time. I peered out as Hamid turned back to the drunk. The lord plodded through the flowerbeds, crushing daffodils under his clumsy feet, and stopped next to a large tree. With one hand, he steadied himself against its trunk and a moment later, I heard a trickle as he emptied his bladder.
Hamid stepped over the flowers, more careful than the man he was hunting, and stopped just feet behind him. I wondered what on earth he was up to. His twisted face looked even more distorted in the leaping shadows.
The man still hadn’t realised he had company: he was too busy whistling and letting out happy sighs. I watched through the arm of the statue as Hamid reached behind his back. When it reappeared he was holding something. A passing light illuminated both Hamid and the thing in his hand: a slim plastic tube with a thin silver needle. A syringe. Hamid clasped it with both hands and raised it above his head. His one eye was closed and he was shaking, fighting against whatever he was about to do.
I tried to call out. Tried to scream – but only a rasping came from my throat. The moment hung there for what felt like an age: the man whistling; Hamid’s hands hovering over the man’s back. No one else was paying any attention. They were too busy in their own worlds.
Hamid was going to strike at any minute and I seemed incapable of doing anything to stop him. He arched his back, ready to plunge the syringe into the man’s neck. There was a high whistle from across the garden. Hamid opened his eye and a relieved smile spread over his face. He lowered his hands, turned around and threw the syringe into the flowerbed.
There was a lightness to his step as he crossed the garden heading back toward the party and toward the direction of the whistle. When he arrived at the doors, Hazid, his brother, was waiting. The two greeted each other by resting their foreheads together, united once more. They straightened up and disappeared back inside the museum.
It was only then I found I could breathe again.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
That was the final confirmation. Hamid was a good kid. A bit weird, but who wouldn’t be if they’d spent the first half of their life in a freak show? And he and his brother loved to annoy each other, but there was no way he’d go around injecting strange men if he hadn’t been told to. As for why he hadn’t gone ahead and done it, I had no idea. Maybe it’s so that Frankie could force him to change his decision later. Or rather force Hazid to change it for him. What would that be like, I wondered, having your choice Shifted by someone else? If it was Hazid who made the Shift, but Hamid who’d done the act, which one of them would be the real killer? The thought was making my head hurt. I didn’t know what was going on. All I knew was that I needed to find Frankie and stop her. Fast.
I raced back into the hall, not bothering to sneak anymore. I ignored the complaints from the guests as I pushed them aside, knocking glasses and canapés to the floor, then finally saw her.
She was at the far end of room, dressed in a long purple gown that fell to the floor. Her hair was bundled up on her head, like a Greek goddess. She was chatting with a man I recognised from the newspapers: a billionaire who owned two football clubs and an energy company. This must be the Vladimirovich Jake mentioned. Frankie threw her head back and laughed at one of his jokes and he smiled, pleased with himself.
I pressed forward and stumbled as a tall lady wearing ridiculous heels tottered and fell against me. I pushed her roughly out of the way, but when I looked back, Frankie was gone. I darted my head around trying to find her again.
Vladimirovich was leading her through the crowd towards the exit. Only then did I see that she wasn’t alone. She had some of her kids with her. Hamid and Hazid, walked shoulder to shoulder – standing tall now they were together again, and laughing at the weird looks they were getting. Ella and Kia followed them, chatting amongst themselves. Kia’s smile, which could light up a room, was missing. She looked tired and tense. Prestige came last. He was walking bent over, his shoulders hunched, as if he was carrying a heavy load. Gone was the proud, dignified boy I’d met just a few days before, replaced with this twitching, nervous kid.
I had to dodge a large man wearing a black kaftan and lost sight of Frankie and the kids for a moment. I panicked, thinking if I didn’t catch up before she made it onto the street I’d have lost her. But instead of heading for the revolving doors, Vladimirovich led the group left and towards a long corridor. A black rope blocked access into the rest of the museum, but as Frankie and Vladimirovich approached, one of the museum guards unhooked the rope from its gold stand and let them pass without a word. The children moved to follow Frankie, but Vladimirovich held up his hand and I could just about make out what he was saying.
“Make yourselves busy, kids.”
Frankie pointed at the museum shop. Ella nodded and led the kids off that way.
Even better for me. Apart from the billionaire, Frankie would be alone.
I ignored the man clicking his fingers in my face and sidestepped a tall skeletal woman in a short silver dress.
By the time I made it to the edge of the hall, the security guard had replaced the rope. I saw Frankie and Vladimirovich turn left and out of sight.
“No access,” the guard said, holding up his hand to me.
“The caterers told me I have to get something from down there,” I pointed at the long room behind him, which was filled with sculptures. As he turned around, to look where I was pointing, I unhooked the rope and slipped past.
“Wait!” he called after me as I started jogging down the corridor.
“I’ll only be a second,” I shouted back. He seemed to hesitate and then turned back to the crowd.
I slowed as I approached the exit Frankie had taken. I peered into the room. Soft spotlights picked out glass cabinets. I heard the clack of Frankie’s heels and the gentle murmur of conversation up ahead. I counted to thirty and then crept into the room. If I got this wrong, I couldn’t just Shift my way out of it. I had to be extra careful.
A glass box in the centre of the room contained an enormous red carpet, protected from ever being walked on again. I wondered what its maker would have thought of that. Something made to be used now locked away, unable to fulfil its purpose.
I snuck past the carpet towards an arched doorway that led into the next exhibit. The oriental room, judging by a sign on the wall.
Frankie and Vladimirovich were standing on the other side of yet another display cabinet. I ducked down, hiding behind a suit of Samurai armour, and listened.
“And you can persuade him to take my deal?” I heard Vladimirovich say, his accent East London by way of Moscow.
“I can persuade him to take any deal. Miller has been most malleable. And I am, I have been told, very persuasive.”
“I do not doubt that.” A pause. A shuffle of feet. “And the coltan supply? Will that be a problem?”
“No, I have taken care of that too.”
“My, you have been busy. And what do you want in return?”
“Nothing.”
“I don’t believe you. No one does anything for nothing,” Vladimirovich said.
“Let’s just say that I believe in your deal and I think it will be better for everyone if he takes it. If you so happen to owe me a favour in the future, well, that’s just a bonus.”
I heard her heels on the tiled floor. They sounded as if they were getting closer.
The man laughed. “Remind me never to get on the wrong side of you, Mrs Goodwin.”
“That’s a good plan,” I said, stepping out from behind the cabinet.
“What the…?” Vladimirovich said. “Waiting staff shouldn’t be back here.”
I looked down at my apron and ripped it off. “I’m no one’s staff,” I said.
“Scott, how nice to see you,” Frankie purred. I swear she didn’t look even a little surprised.
“You know this boy?”
“We’ve met, yes. What are you doing here, Scott?” she said.
“I’m here to stop you.”
Frankie pouted her perfectly painted lips. “Come now, Scott. Don’t be silly. I thought we were friends.”
“No. You made me think we were friends. You made me…”
“But we are friends.” Her eyes bored into mine.
I shook my head. “Stop it. It’s not going to work this time. I know what you’re doing and I… I can do it too.”
It was a long shot. Sir Richard and his stupid game with the gun had shown me that I didn’t have any control over the power. But the question was, would Frankie know that?”
“I thought as much. I read the files on Greyfield’s, you know. Sir Richard gave them to me. It seems you are quite a special boy.”
“Will someone tell me what the hell–”
“Shut up!” Frankie said. And Vladimirovich’s jaw snapped shut.
“Just go back to the party, Anton,” Frankie continued. “We will continue this discussion later.”
Vladimirovich glared at me and then Frankie. “No woman has ever spoken to me like this. You may find your deal is off the table.” He pushed past me and wound his way back through the exhibits.
Frankie watched him go and sighed. “It’s a shame my power only works on Shifters.”
“Is that so?” I said.
“Yes. Something to do with the shape of their unique brain. Or perhaps they are more susceptible to my instructions because they exist in a constant state of uncertainty. As soon as I give them a solid idea to hold onto they grab it, like a drowning man onto driftwood.” She mimed holding on to something, wrapping her arms around herself. “No one really wants that much choice, not really. Especially not children. They need absolutes. Boundaries. They want to be told what to do.” She sighed. “Dr Lawrence would have known, I’m sure. He would have explained it. Quantified it all and tried to replicate its effects. But then where would we be, Scott? You and I? Ordinary. Not special at all.”
“Make it stop,” I said. “Take back what you did to me.”
“Or what?” She glanced away and looked at a row of tiny statues in one of the displays.
“Or… or I’m going to tell everyone what you’re doing!”
“And what exactly am I doing, Scott?” I hesitated and she laughed. “You have no idea, do you? You’ve come running here, alone, and you think you can… what? Surprise me into revealing all? This isn’t a film, Scott. I’m not a villain.”
“Yes, you are. You kill people!” I shouted.
“I’ve never killed anyone.”
‘Then… then you get your kids to do it for you. Like Hamid and that fat man earlier. And Kia, did you use her to get close enough to poison Tsing Ken-ze?”
“I wouldn’t worry about Ken-ze. He’ll be returned once his father agrees to my plans.”
I flinched at her words. She was talking about life and death as if it was nothing more than changing what shoes she wore in the morning. “But why? If you bring Ken-ze back, then his father will just forget and whatever you’ve made him agree to will vanish. The whole thing will have been for nothing.”
“Allow me to let you in on a little secret, Scott. There are ways of making people remember. Especially when the event is particularly traumatic. I would have thought that you, of all people, would understand that.”
“What are you doing it all for?” I said, confused and desperate to find something to hold on to.
“Oh, Scott, you really have no idea. You are so out of your depth. I feel sorry for you, I really do. We could have been friends, but now… Hurt him.”
I saw her look behind me and spun around just in time to block Prestige’s foot coming for me. I trapped his boot under my arm and we stood there, frozen, waiting for the other to move. He stared at me, but I don’t think he really saw me. It was as if he was looking through me, to whatever horrors he’d been forced to see. Again, I was struck by the change in him. The boy I’d seen a few days ago had been haunted and emotionally scarred. But this boy looked totally broken.
He tried to free his leg, but I pulled, yanking him forward and off his feet. I felt someone jump onto my back, pummelling me with their fists and feet. I reached up to grab a handful of hair and twisted my body. Kia went soaring over my shoulder, crashing into a glass display of kimonos.
I gasped, as the glass shattered beneath her, the patterned silks falling from their stands and crumpling over her head. I hadn’t meant to hurt anyone. Kia scrambled to her feet, looked down at the cuts on her arms, and Shifted into Pia.
Prestige took advantage of my shock to land a fist in my stomach. I doubled over, spraying spittle over his dark trousers.
“Please, no!” I heard Ella gasp. I stared up at her. I didn’t want her pity. I hated her and everything about her. Hamid and Hazid pushed her aside to better see the fight.
I straightened up in time to dodge a kick from Prestige, but I was too slow to avoid a heavy blow that knocked me off my feet. I looked up to see Pia holding a silver dustbin; his eyes were dark and empty, as if he wasn’t in control any more. I just had time to pull myself to my feet before I saw the twins coming for me.
I was a good fighter, but without the ability to Shift I was at a serious disadvantage. And these kids were at the peak of their powers. Every blow I threw at them, they Shifted and were no longer in the way. And there were four of them. Maybe if I was just up against three I’d have stood a chance. But I was losing badly.
After minutes of being punched and kicked, I heard Frankie speak. “Get rid of him,” she said.
In my own personal world of hurt, I felt myself being dragged through the dark and empty museum, only half aware of what I was seeing. I was thrown against something solid and felt myself falling through a set of doors.