Gilded Cage (Dark Gifts #1)(52)

But the psycho outfit was the least scary thing about him. The Jardine heir could have been wearing Happy Panda pyjamas, and he still would’ve been the most terrifying person Luke had ever seen. Abi had shown them all pictures, but no photo could prepare you for the reality of an Equal in the flesh. And there was a whole family of them. Abi worked in their office. Mum nursed one of them. Hopefully Daisy was at least keeping clear.

‘We’ll get in front. Eyes down,’ hissed Jackson.

And just like that, the groups were passing: Luke and Jackson together, Oz half shielded behind them; Gavar Jardine striding ahead. The two Security men were so intent on keeping up that they didn’t spare them a second glance.

Luke’s bones felt as if they’d been replaced by unsteady stacks of ball bearings. Any minute now, he’d fall apart.

But not yet. Not until he’d got Oz to safety.

The guy at the entrance was wide-eyed, ready with two scanners.

‘You saw ’em?’ he whispered, and the Doc nodded. ‘You guys were just in time. They’ve got some nerve, though – gotta hand it to them. Backup’s on the way once they’ve been contained. You get the prisoner delivered.’

Jackson nodded – and just like that, they were out into the freezing night.

As they crossed the road, a small shadow detached itself and followed them. They walked two streets, then Jackson propped Oz up against a wall. He took the big guy’s face between his hands, ever so gently thumbed up his eyelids.

‘Nearly there, big fella. You’re safe now.’

Jackson’s very presence restored life to Oz. The puffy eyelids forced themselves open. A tongue licked at swollen, split lips. Renie put a water bottle to Oz’s mouth and he gulped eagerly. His hand came up to feel his face.

‘Not like I was ever pretty,’ Oz croaked, and Luke thought he’d never in his life been happier to hear a rubbish joke.

Then from the direction of the detention centre, the muffled sound of an explosion was magnified by the hollow night.

‘Take him, Luke,’ Jackson said. ‘You too, Renie. Get him to the pickup point as fast as you can. There’s not a minute to lose.’

‘Why?’ Renie was all eyes. ‘What was that?’

‘That was Gavar Jardine.’

Jackson turned and ran back the way they’d come. There was shouting behind them now. Confused noise. The wet, sleety air crackled.

‘This way,’ Renie said. ‘Angel’s ready with the van.’

Luke had half hustled, half dragged Oz the length of one more street when he heard the sound of gunshots. Once. Twice. The second time there was an awful cry.

Luke couldn’t be sure, but it sounded a lot like Jackson.

‘Wasn’t ’im,’ Renie said fiercely, pulling at Luke’s sleeve. ‘Wasn’t.’

In the fourth street sat the van. As they hurried towards it, a figure came running. Jessica.

She threw herself at Oz, as if she could hold him up all by herself. She couldn’t, of course. Renie pushed the messy tangle of the three of them in the direction of the van, then yanked Jessica’s arm away so Luke had room to fold Oz onto the backseat. Jess gave a sob and pressed her face against his soiled boilersuit, and from the darkness of the van a large, mangled paw reached out to pet her hair. Jessie grabbed it and kissed it.

‘We’ve got to get moving, Jess.’

Then Renie’s face was lit up by a freakish glare, as a plume of chemical fire shot high over buildings several blocks away. Foul, acrid smoke drifted towards them, and Luke tasted it as he heard the patter of debris raining down on a rooftop nearby.

‘Time to go,’ said a voice from the driver’s seat. ‘Close it up, Renie.’

Angel. Luke had forgotten all about her. Looking at her face as she leaned out of the window, he wondered how that had been possible. Her blonde hair was stuffed up under a beanie hat and both hands gripped the wheel.

‘He’s safe now, I promise. Don’t worry about Jackson; he’ll be fine, too. Just look out for yourselves. Split up. Go home. Take different routes – not that direction, obviously.’

Angel nodded at where the smoke was still pluming upwards. The sky was lit with unpleasant shades of blue and orange, resembling a firework show for the colour-blind.

The engine was already running. As she tested the accelerator Luke stayed stupidly where he was, staring through the open cab window.

Then she reached out and – unbelievably – touched her fingers to his cheek. He felt that electric tingle again, and couldn’t take his eyes from her perfect face.

‘Be safe, Luke Hadley,’ Angel said.

She gunned the engine and the vehicle tore away into the night.





13



Bouda



‘They used Skill?’

‘That’s what I said.’

Her future husband crossed his arms, his face reddening at her scepticism.

Bouda sighed. Was this how married life would be? Gavar getting truculent at the slightest provocation: ‘Was it the marmalade you wanted, darling?’ Glower. ‘That’s what I said.’ ‘Is your great-aunt coming for tea today, my love?’ Scowl. ‘That’s what I said.’

She’d find out soon enough. Tomorrow was the Second Debate, at Grendelsham. They would be married at Kyneston after the Third. Three more months.