The Fandom(24)

‘Saskia and Matthew were taking us to Rebel Headquarters, remember?’ I say.

‘And headquarters are by the broken bridge?’

‘That’s right,’ I say.

‘I don’t remember Ash being that cute,’ Alice interrupts.

‘He most definitely wasn’t,’ I reply.

‘Who’s Ash?’ Katie says, the frustration rising in her voice.

‘Think Jacob from Twilight,’ I reply.

She shrugs. ‘You think I’ve read Twilight? Do you know me at all?’

‘Oh for God’s sake,’ Alice says. ‘Even my gran’s read Twilight.’

‘OK, think Buttons from Cinderella,’ I say. ‘Ash followed Rose around like a lost puppy.’

Katie’s face lights up. ‘Ooh, like Silvius from As You Like It.’

Alice rolls her eyes. ‘Or Geeky McGeekyson from Attack of the Nerds.’

Ash returns with a pair of tatty leather shoes dangling from his hands, one of which has a hole in the bottom, plugged with some sort of dried straw. He hands them to Alice, who holds them between her thumb and her forefinger like she’s avoiding touching them.

Katie can’t stop grinning. ‘Not quite Jimmy Choos, are they?’

Poor Ash looks thoroughly confused again – he looks really cute with his forehead all creased up. ‘They’re not Jimmy’s, they’re mine.’ He points at Alice’s feet. ‘But they should fit you OK, you’ve got massive man feet for a girl.’

I catch Katie’s eye as we try not to laugh.

‘We’d better get going then, find that little brother of yours.’ Ash grins at me, and that warm, fluttery feeling stretches to every extremity of my body.





I didn’t think it possible, but the city disintegrates even more the deeper we go. Buildings without walls, streets ripped in two, huts built from scraps of metal and polythene. It’s so much worse than in the film. Even worse than how I pictured it from the book. And the stench just grows and grows. I raise my sleeve to my nose, hoping to filter the air, and notice that Katie and Alice do the same.

I peer into the shelters and catch the odd glimpse of movement; mothers feeding their babies, fathers hacking at salvaged bits of wood. It occurs to me that all these Imps have a backstory, a life, which Sally King didn’t write about. Just like Ash. How is this even possible? Did King write about each Imp in detail before she died? Or has this world sprung directly from King’s imagination?

‘So, what’s your story?’ Ash asks me. ‘Why’s your little brother at the broken bridge?’

The words little brother ignite guilt inside me. Already I’ve forgotten why I left him in the tavern, why I failed to prioritize him.

‘Violet?’ The concern in Ash’s voice makes me a little teary.

‘If I tell you, I’ll have to kill you,’ I say.

He laughs. ‘Ah, now your story just gets more and more intriguing, doesn’t it? Time traveller, assassin . . .’

Our upper arms nudge against each other. He seems happy not to pry, to walk beside me, his arm resting against mine like we belong.

We see fewer and fewer overalls. The plain-clothed Imps look lean and desperate, even for Imps. Recessed eyes, angular cheekbones, fingers like twigs. I remember this from canon. The Imps who work in the Pastures live nearest to the gates and are the rulers of the city. The ones that are fed and clothed and given a small allowance. But the Imps nearer the river look close to death, their lips tinged blue.

I watch as the sun slips down the sky. Back home, it’s springtime – the air tastes balmy and sits easy in your lungs. Here, it’s early autumn, and the cold begins to worm its way beneath my tunic and into my bones. I briefly wonder what time it is back home, whether Mum and Dad have set the table for tea, waiting for me and Nate to return from Comic-Con. I imagine their anxious faces as time ticks by, and I get this lump in my throat like I’ve swallowed a piece of shrapnel.

The air changes and the wind picks up, delivering a pungent odour of fish and sewage.

‘We’re getting nearer to the river,’ Ash says. ‘I need to get back to the city gates. If I run, I can still make the last bus.’ He cups my elbow with his hand – a spot of hot sun. ‘I hate leaving you here, you nearly got hung in the nice part of town.’

‘That was nice?’ Alice says.

He smiles his crooked smile. ‘Just keep heading south and you’ll hit the river soon enough. Just stay away from the rebels, yeah? They’re bad news. I know it’s a worthy cause, Imp emancipation and all that, but they’re a bunch of ruthless bastards – they’d kill their granny if they thought she was a Gem.’ He gestures briefly to Alice. ‘And you’ll have trouble convincing them that Bigfoot here hasn’t had her helixes tampered with.’

Alice sighs. ‘Jesus, will everyone stop going on about how fit I am.’

He turns to leave and catches my cheek with his lips. A weird feeling gathers in my stomach; a twist of longing.

‘Thanks,’ I say.

He cocks his head to the side and holds me for a moment with those amazing, frosted-blue eyes. Then he turns and jogs back up the street.

‘I need a hero,’ Katie sings, just loud enough for me to hear.

‘Oh, sod off,’ I say.