The Fandom(22)

He shakes his head like I’m mad. ‘From what?’

‘Now you know how I feel,’ Katie mutters.

‘Do you work at the Harper estate?’ Alice asks him.

He nods. ‘Yeah, I’m a Night-Imp.’

Alice and I look at each other for a moment.

‘It’s Ash from canon,’ Alice says, and then laughs.

Canon-Ash was one of the Imps who looked after Rose at the Harper estate, though he had no idea she was a rebel. He showed her around, helped her with her chores, and stared at her a lot. I always felt a little sorry for Ash; he was like Jacob from Twilight, traipsing after Bella like a lost puppy. Ash from the film even looked like a puppy – big blue eyes, floppy black hair. But current-Ash looks more like I imagined him after reading the book, more feline than canine – sleeker and prouder and just more attractive. I can’t help wondering if Russell Jones didn’t want the on-screen competition. I bet R-Patz’s heart sank when he saw Taylor Lautner for the first time.

‘But you look so . . . so different,’ I say.

‘Roll up your tongue, Vi,’ Katie whispers.

Either Ash doesn’t hear or he ignores her. ‘Have we met before?’

I shake my head, a little too vigorously, and the pain intensifies. ‘No . . . no . . . My mistake.’

He smiles. ‘And you are?’

‘Violet,’ I say.

‘The colour or the flower?’

‘Both.’

He looks at the wound on my neck. ‘Do you mind if I take a look?’

‘Go for it.’

He reaches beneath my hair. The sharpness of his nail catches my collar bone and something warm and fluttery grows in my stomach.

‘That’s gotta hurt.’ He smiles this wonky smile and cocks his head to the side. I realize he feels a little awkward touching me – he’s only eighteen, a year older than me. He wipes my blood on his overalls and scowls. ‘I can’t stand those nasty controllers, deciding who lives and who dies.’ He moves across the room to the sink and runs a cloth under the tap, which flows straight from the sink into a drain cover on the floor, no pipe or anything. Even from a distance, I can see flecks of brown in it. The reek of raw sewage wafts towards me.

Alice wrinkles up her nose.

Ash pretends he doesn’t see. ‘They’re just power-hungry idiots. No better than the Gems, if you ask me.’ His eyes flick to Alice. ‘Sorry.’

‘I’m not a Gem.’ Her newly cropped hair reveals her neck, which remains smooth and unblemished. Katie was right; my noose was particularly tight. This thought sends another wave of nausea through me.

He arches a dark eyebrow (current-Ash has way better brows than canon-Ash, not a monobrow in sight). ‘Seriously? You just look like that?’ he asks.

She smiles. ‘Yeah, I guess.’

‘Oh, please,’ Katie says. ‘Her head’s quite big enough already.’

‘Hang on,’ I say to Ash. ‘If you thought she was a Gem, why did you save her?’

He wrings out the cloth and shrugs. ‘We’re all just animals.’

‘So you . . . don’t hate Gems?’ I ask.

‘Course I do, but I wouldn’t kill ’em.’ He moves towards me, and I notice the stark line where the darkness of his hair meets the white of his skin. ‘We should probably clean that up.’

I let him dab at my neck. I can’t help but notice how his skin looks almost translucent in the dimness of the room, lending him a vulnerability completely at odds with the breadth of his chest.

‘So, where are you from?’ His breath skims my ear.

I falter on my words. ‘We’re from a different universe.’

He laughs. ‘Let me guess, one where Imps rule the world.’

Now it’s my turn to laugh. ‘Would that be so weird?’

‘Not really. We used to, didn’t we? Before genetic enhancement was discovered.’

Ever so gently, he tilts my chin. I look straight into his eyes. The cool expanse of blue reminds me of winter. He slides the cloth around the back of my neck, under my hair, and I catch his scent – sweat and soap.

‘So maybe we’re from the past,’ I say.

‘Time travellers, the plot thickens.’ He pauses for a moment and we smile at each other. His smile takes up his whole face, even his proud nose has to fight for space.

Katie turns to Alice. ‘I’m suddenly feeling invisible.’

‘Hello.’ Alice waves her hand. ‘We still exist you know. When do we get our own personal sponge bath?’

Ash and I laugh, a little nervously, and our breath mingles in the space between us.

He rocks back on to his haunches. ‘You must be hungry?’

My stomach growls of its own accord. I haven’t eaten anything since breakfast.

He moves across the room to a cauldron and stokes the fire. ‘Ma put a stew on before she left.’

‘Who’s Ma?’ I recall the controller’s words: He’s Ma’s son, if he says she’s an Imp, she’s an Imp. Obviously, Ma demands respect.

He stirs the pot. The heat and movement release an aroma of stewing meat, overpowering the sewage smell and making my mouth water.

‘She’s the local Imp midwife,’ he says. ‘Everyone loves her, and the Imps need her, you know.’