The Potion Diaries (33 page)

‘Yes, hang on. Okay. Okay.’

I pull to a stop in the huge open savannah. How are we ever going to find them out here? Grass, plains and trees, as far as the eye can see – but no sign of another car. No sign of any other life. What if they went into the Wilds and turned left instead of straight on? Turned right? We could be searching the savannah for days and not have any clue where they are.

I try not to wonder if we’re going to run into Zain and the ZA team. It’s over. I keep reminding myself of that.

Suddenly there’s a screech overhead, and hundreds of thick black silhouettes fill the sky, casting a shadow over the sun. I scream, despite the fact that we’re inside the jeep. Arjun takes out his phone, opens an app and points it at the sky.

‘What are those things?’ I cry.

He shows me the screen. There’s a picture of the creatures on it, and a little whirling white circle indicating that the phone is working. ‘The Finders app helps us identify species out in the Wilds, like a Finding database which anyone can tap into.’ The screen flashes up with a picture of a vicious-looking bat, the tips of its wings curved into cruel-looking claws. Under the picture are the words
Zambiera desmodus
.

‘Vampire bats?’ I ask.

‘No, these are like vampire bats 2.0. Look at their wings! They’re vicious, and a huge pack like this . . .’ He pauses. ‘We have to follow them. Follow the bats, Sam!’

‘What, why?’

‘Their favourite blood is human. If someone is injured, they’ll be drawn to the scent.’

I put my foot down flat on the pedal, swinging the wheel in the direction of the bats.

Arjun braces himself against the dashboard. ‘It could be the ZA team that’s in trouble . . .’

‘Or it could be Molly.’ I’m in a race now. A race to find Molly, against these evil beasts in the sky. I grit my teeth as the steering wheel judders in my hands, the tyres bouncing over the rough terrain.

‘Left! Angle left!’

The bats are still flying straight, but I give Arjun the benefit of the doubt.

‘Okay, straighten up!’

I can see what he’s spotted now. A jeep, up ahead. It’s parked in front of a thick clump of trees, the thickest I’ve seen in the savannah so far.

‘It’s a gallery forest!’ Arjun says. ‘According to the database, that’s where unicorns like to hide out because it means there’s water nearby, but also cover. Maybe that’s where they are. The bats should circle for a bit, but when they descend on the forest, they’ll be everywhere, okay? You don’t have long.’

I jump out of our vehicle as we come level with the jeep. I peer inside, but I don’t recognise anything. It could belong to Molly and Kirsty. It could be ZA. It could be Emilia. I just have to pray that it’s Molly.

Arjun slumps in his seat. I can see the ashen determination on his face. When I find Molly, I will drive us all back to safety, and home. But this part, I’m going to have to do alone. No Finder to help me.

‘I’ll be back,’ I say to him. I grab his phone and punch in a number. ‘The moment there’s signal, you dial this.’

‘If you’re not here in half an hour, I’m coming in.’

‘Okay. Or, you know, if you hear any screaming.’

He smiles. I run towards the forest.

It’s deathly quiet inside. The trees absorb all the sound, the wind, the birds and the bats that had seemed so loud outside now snuffed out, replaced by a claustrophobic silence. I make my way through the thick trunks, deeper into the forest.

Then, I spot it: a flash of unnaturally bright orange in the trees. I pick up my pace. I want to shout, but something about the silence of this place makes me keep my mouth shut.

I break through into a clearing. Kirsty is there, clear as day, a reflective orange jacket over her normal uniform. She does not look surprised to see me at all. In fact, she looks like she is expecting me. She holds up a hand, and I freeze on the spot.

‘Sam!’ cries Molly. My head snaps up towards the sound. She’s in one of the trees, suspended in a battered cage made from strips of lacquered wood. She looks so small in there, she could probably fit through the bars if she tried. But it’s too high off the ground for her to jump down safely.

Then a unicorn bursts into the clearing, into the space beneath the cage.

I almost fall to the ground. I’ve never seen a creature more beautiful in my entire life. I want to throw myself at its hooves and pray for forgiveness. I want to bury myself in the earth and tear my eyes from their sockets; they don’t deserve its majesty. It’s a creature that appears born of light itself, light and beauty and – at the moment – great and terrible rage.

Almost twice her height, it leaps past Kirsty, who in turn leaps to the side, rolling to a stop, barely moments after the creature’s horn slices through the space where her head was. It gallops in circles around the clearing, pawing at the tree, pounding its muscular body against the trunk and making the entire forest shake.

It’s like a horse, but it’s more than that. It appears to have more muscles, to be made of more than just blood and skin and sinew but also of steel and strength and sunlight and the universe itself. Its horn is its most incredible feature. It stretches out in a dagger-straight line, but it’s made up of curves and coils, somehow still menacing, dangerous. When it stops under the cage again, it rears up, but to no avail. Whoever placed that cage up there, did so with the utmost precision. The tip of its horn is inches away from the bottom, but it cannot reach. Every time the unicorn rears, Molly draws herself further into the foetal position she’s adopted in a corner of the cage. But for some reason I don’t think the beast wants to hurt Molly. It wants to save her.

Tears stream down my face. I can’t help it. There’s something about seeing the unicorn so angry, raging at us for keeping from it the one thing that it wants. But I won’t let it get Molly. My eyes dart from side to side, looking for a way through to the tree.

‘Stay back, Sam,’ Kirsty says. ‘I’ve never seen a unicorn act this way!’

‘You don’t understand,’ I shout back. ‘We think Emilia’s jamming the phone signals. And there’s a swarm of crazy Zambian vampire bats heading this way! They’ll be here any minute.’

At that, Kirsty’s face turns grey.

The beat of wings confirms my statement, and Kirsty looks up at the sky, her eyes narrow.

She darts out into the clearing again, taunting the great beast. It stands beneath the cage, raking the ground with a diamond-hard hoof.

My mind races at a million miles a minute. If I can make it to the tree, if Kirsty somehow gets the unicorn to move, if Molly can break free, if, if, if, then what?

Kirsty is wide-eyed with panic, and fear grips my heart. She must have had a plan. Clearly she meant to lure the unicorn here with Molly’s youth and innocence. But she hadn’t taken into account Emilia, although she should have done. She should have known that Emilia wouldn’t stop until we were all dead, including the Princess.

The unicorn lowers its horn.

Kirsty stands there, her arms spread wide holding open her jacket, trying to make herself seem like a huge, imposing target.

Then it charges.

At that moment, I charge too, springing forward from my position behind a tree, and I run to the tree in the centre of the clearing.

It’s not the easiest to climb, by any means. But I recognise exactly what kind of tree this is from one of my obscure potions books. I take out a knife from the bag at my side and slash at the trunk. Immediately, the cuts fill with sticky sap.

Amber Laticifer tree. The thick resin from its bark can be used in the creation of funeral pendants, as it is ideal for binding and storing memories.

I dip my hands in it, coating them in the thick, shiny, light gold substance.

Kirsty turns and runs into the woods, the unicorn following swiftly behind. But the sound of beating wings is getting closer, louder, and I know I don’t have much time.

I rub my hands together, the heat of the reaction making the sap sticky. Then I slam my right hand hard against the trunk as I jump up as high as possible. It catches, and I throw my other hand up as well, my feet scrambling for purchase against the bark, struggling to find a good foothold.

The sap starts peeling away almost immediately, so I have to keep moving, throwing one hand higher than the other. My shoulders burn with the effort, but it’s only four more swings and I’ve reached the first branch. From here, now, it will be easier.

I jump up onto the next branch.

‘I’m coming, Molly!’

‘Hurry!’ She sounds so scared, her voice a high-pitched squeal.

There’s a branch just underneath the cage. If I can remove the thick stake of wood that’s holding the cage door closed, Molly will be able to swing over to me, and I’ll be able to grab her. That must have been how Kirsty got Molly in the cage in the first place. From here, I’d be able to lift Molly up into it.

The problem is, the first bat lands on the branch at the same time that I do.

‘Shoo!’ I say, feeling utterly ridiculous. As if a vampire bat is going to shoo? It bares its teeth at me – they’re incredibly sharp and long, more like needles than fangs, perfect for injecting venom and removing blood. It squawks, mocking me. Then it stretches out its wings and hisses like a snake.

I take the closest thing I have to hand – my torch – and throw it at the bat. It hits it square on, and the bat screeches at me, then flies off.

‘Molly, I’m here!’

I stand on the branch and reach out. I yank the end of the stake several times, trying to pull it out of the lock.

But then the first bat lands on the cage. Its hand-like little claws wrap around the bars, its wings beating ferociously against the bowing wood. The force of it sends the cage swinging, but only for a moment. Then it’s like a rainstorm of black, as the bats swarm over the cage, covering it completely, layering two, three, four deep, attacking and biting each other in their desperation to get to the precious blood inside. The blood that belongs to my Molly.

I can’t even hear her screaming any more. They’ve completely blocked my view of her, and even more are landing all the time, on my branch. I don’t have time to make a decision. I stretch out on the branch, and I jump towards the cage.

I don’t even get close. A bat slams into my back, its claws wrenching into my skin, its wings beating against my arms and head. The force of it sends my jump off balance, more like a fall than anything. I throw my arms up and the sticky sap on my hands helps me cling to the branch. I swing myself towards the trunk, the bat still raging in my hair. I swing my legs around the tree, then peel my hands away from the bark and focus on pulling at the bat. I wrench it away from me, but not before its fangs leave deep scratches along my neck. My hand snaps off a twig from the branch, and as soon as I feel the slightest bit of leeway, I slash at the bat’s wing. It falls away.

I’m scrambling now to try to get back up to the cage, and suddenly I see movement. The bottom drops from it; a compartment, a false floor. And Molly, she drops too. The creatures don’t notice. But she’s falling, and it’s way too high.

‘Molly!’ I scream, as if my words could create some kind of cushion that will protect her. There is no time for me to react. There’s nothing I can do. I can only watch her fall.

From the woods, the unicorn bursts out of the foliage. A vision of Molly skewered on the unicorn’s horn plagues my mind, but it dips its head at the last minute and instead she falls like a ragdoll onto its body. Her arms instinctively grip its neck and it carries her off into the forest. A stream of bats follow them, descending from the cage and sky.

I scuttle down the tree, beating off the last remaining bats as they swoop down on me, but the majority of their attention has been diverted.

I stagger off in the direction of the unicorn, running as fast as my weak legs can carry me. Someone calls my name, and I turn my head to see Kirsty stumbling out of the other side of the woods, her face caked with blood, her hand gripping a wound at her shoulder.

‘Kirsty, it took her, it took Molly.’

Kirsty purses her lips, sheer determination on her face. And as much as I hate her, and I hate her so much in this moment, she is the only one who’s going to be able to make this better.

She breaks into a run, and seeing her do that with her bleeding shoulder, means I can run too.

There’s a loud whinny from deep within the forest.

I can barely breathe; I don’t want to know what’s going on.

We reach another clearing, where there’s a growth of rock, covered in moss. Molly is there, and she’s still sitting astride the unicorn’s back, her eyes closed, her hands outstretched. She’s got a scratch on her cheek that is dripping blood, and she’s wearing a pair of silk gloves.

‘No, Molly, stop!’ I scream. She’s using magic in the most dangerous part of Wilds.

The bats swoop and swarm around her, but they’re unable to attack. They’re being repelled by some kind of force field that is being generated by my sister’s gloved hands. Her brown hair streams out behind her, even though there’s barely a breath of wind in the forest, and even when the unicorns rears up, Molly holds on with her thighs, moving with the creature as effortlessly as if she’d been riding her entire life.

Kirsty grabs my arm. ‘Get down!’ she says.

‘But the magic?’

‘She’ll be fine, trust me.’

I drop to the mossy, muddy ground. And just in time, as Molly claps her hands together. Her force field spreads outwards, upwards, and in an instant the bats are cast aside. Those closest to the blast fall like rain around us, while the others are sent swirling into the sky, far away from this girl and her powerful magic.

The power sweeps over Kirsty and me; I feel the residue of it crackle like electricity over my back, sending waves of goosebumps over my skin, every hair raised.

Molly collapses with a slump on the unicorn’s back. It dips its legs, letting her slide to the ground. Then it lies down next to her and they both appear to fall into a deep sleep, one of Molly’s arms draped around the unicorn’s neck.

Slowly, Kirsty and I stand up. She grips her shoulder. ‘Be careful. The unicorn will be protecting Molly. But there could still be excess magic that you aren’t protected from.’