The Fandom(33)

Be careful what you wish for, because sometimes the reality truly blows.

‘Violet?’ I hear Nate’s voice. ‘Violet, are you OK?’

I wake somewhere warm and soft – on my sofa back home or snuggled in bed. The fragrance of burning wood mingles with pollen, and candlelight pools on the walls. I hear low, pulsing voices and wonder if Mum and Dad are talking in the kitchen. But I quickly realize the voices belong to Baba and Thorn.

Nate leans over me. For a fleeting second, I recall my dream, but I see no chasm opening across his chest.

‘What happened?’ I whisper. It feels like I’ve been screaming, the lining of my throat cracked.

‘Baba did her weird thought-sucking-thing and then you passed out. Are you OK?’

I shake my head. The vast, empty space of the Coliseum, Rose’s body hitting the floor, the empty noose . . . Memories fill my mind until my skull feels like a sieve, incapable of containing them all.

‘Violet? What is it?’ Nate asks.

I open my mouth to explain, but Thorn raises his voice at that same moment.

‘I refuse to believe it,’ he says.

Baba – once again bent in her chair, her apple-green irises sealed firmly behind her lids – clasps his hand. ‘She’s the one, Thorn.’ The same words Baba spoke to Thorn in canon, right after her mind blend with Rose.

Nate turns to me, his face full of wonder. ‘They’re talking about you,’ he mouths.

‘She will save the Imps,’ Baba says. ‘Through self-sacrifice and love.’

Nate’s eyes widen, his face all apexes and points in the firelight. ‘You’re going to take Rose’s place?’

I nod.

The concentration nips at his face as he bites his bottom lip. ‘But if you take her place . . .’ His features twist in alarm as he follows the concept to its natural end point. It amazes me how clever he is sometimes.

‘It’s OK.’ I try to smile, though it feels more like a grimace. ‘Soon as I hang we’ll all get transported home. All of us. I won’t feel a thing.’

‘But . . .’

‘Baba promised, I won’t even know it’s happening.’ I’m not sure for whose sake I’m lying – mine or his.

‘But, Violet . . .’

‘Let’s not dwell on it, OK, bro. It is what it is.’

And I bury those terrifying, bleak words in some distant part of my brain – Exactly one week today, I will hang.

Thorn crosses the floor in three long strides and pulls me to my feet like I weigh no more than a doll. ‘Come then, Little Flower, I’ll brief you on your assignment.’

I follow him from the chamber, my arm linked through Nate’s for stability. I forget to say bye to Baba, too focused on the ache in my head and the weakness in my limbs. Only when I hear her voice following us up the corridor do I remember her. ‘You don’t need to brief her,’ she shouts. ‘She already knows what to do.’

Nate and I wait on a pew near the front of the church. All the other pews have been removed to make room for desks and chairs, so this one stands alone, making it seem more like a random park bench. It’s the exact same pew Rose and Thorn sat on after their meeting with Baba. But current-Thorn stands, statuesque, glowering once again at the plaque beneath the bombed-out window. He hasn’t bothered to rebind our hands, and I find myself just staring at Nate’s fingers as they spread over his thighs. They look so delicate, the skin unblemished by time.

A muffled shriek pulls our attention to the back of the church. Matthew half drags, half carries a gagged Alice towards Thorn. She arches her back and digs her heels into the ground, but Matthew easily overpowers her. Saskia follows with Katie, who also puts up a fight, but her petite frame makes little impact against Saskia’s vice-like grip.

‘Sit them all together,’ Thorn says, not even bothering to turn.

Alice and Katie slide along the pew so they sit beside us. My thigh presses into Katie’s – I can feel her shaking.

I try and still her knee with my hand. ‘It’s going to be OK,’ I whisper, mistaking her tremors for fear, but when she replies, the gag absorbing her words, she sounds pissed off, not afraid. Thank goodness she’s gagged, I think. Katie has no idea just how violent, how brutal, Thorn can be. She’d probably call him a toasted knob-cheese sandwich or something.

Saskia and Matthew stand behind us, their shadows fragmenting across our laps as a draught stirs the candle flames.

‘God knows how you’re still alive,’ Saskia whispers into my ear.

Thorn circles the desks and stops when he reaches the pulpit at the front of the church. He has this look of self-importance, like he’s going to climb the wooden steps and start preaching, but he settles on clearing his throat. ‘Turns out we may have a use for our visitors.’

‘Firewood?’ Saskia mutters. ‘Bet they’d spit and sizzle like pork chops.’

Thorn pulls the gags from Katie and Alice’s mouths, taking more time over Katie’s, letting his fingers brush up against her freckles. She turns her face away and he inhales sharply, as though her gesture wounds him. But whatever Katie stirs inside him leaves as quickly as it arrived – his face hardens and he wipes his hand against his blazer. He addresses Saskia and Matthew, speaking over our heads. ‘Violet has agreed to take Rose’s place in the Harper mission.’