The Fandom(96)

I look up the stairs towards Katie’s prison. Thorn already stands at the top, desperately trying to open the door. He sees me and shouts a single, bleak word: ‘Locked.’ He clearly hasn’t got the key.

Tears spring from my eyes, coaxed by hopelessness and particles of smoke. I consider just sinking to the ground and weeping, when a loud noise draws my attention. The door reverberates, bowing towards us, rattling in its frame. I imagine Katie, terrified and trapped, flinging her weight into the wooden panels. Thorn does the same, and for a short while, they’re caught in a strange call and answer song. But the door is sturdy and, without much of a run-up, Thorn’s unable to use his weight to his advantage.

Ash pulls me up the stairs, two at a time. ‘Your knife,’ he screams at Thorn. ‘Give me your knife!’

The panic in Thorn’s face is replaced by suspicion. But Katie still hammers on the door, a sound which reminds him just what’s at stake. He pulls his dagger from his belt and passes it to Ash, handle first.

Quickly, Ash sets about the hinges on the door, using the tip of the knife as a screwdriver and removing the screws.

‘Hurry,’ Thorn shouts.

Ash’s fingers remain nimble and precise, like he’s back at the estate picking apples or shelling peas. In less than a minute, he’s removed all six screws. Together, the three of us manoeuvre the heavy slab of wood, lifting it from its hinges and prising it from its frame. I dash through the opening, nearly bowling Katie over with my embrace, and I take a second to hold her to my body, inhaling the smoke-free air of the sealed ochre room.

‘Violet! Thorn!’ Her tears dampen my neck. ‘You came for me.’

‘We have to go,’ I say.

‘Now,’ Thorn says.

Katie looks at Ash. ‘Who’s this?’

‘There’s no time, Katherine,’ Thorn shouts.

I guess she sees the urgency in his face, because for once she doesn’t argue. We bolt down the stairs, sinking into the choking fog. I didn’t think it possible, but the flames have intensified, transforming the building into a bell jar of smoke. Searing, blistering and unyielding. We fly towards the door, mouths shielded with sleeves, skin aglow and tender with heat. My tongue and throat feel as though the blaze has singed them. I try to hold my breath, but this makes me cough, and the more I cough, the worse it burns, and the harder my lungs seem to suck.

We reach the exit and I take one last glance over my shoulder. Behind the wall of flames lies my little brother.

‘Goodbye,’ I whisper into the fire.

Goodbye, the fire replies.





A mighty crash shakes the building. I shelter my face as a shockwave of heat and dirt hammers into me. Of course. The rebels planted more explosives. The church is predominantly stone, so there would be little to feed the flames once they’d devoured the wooden furnishings. We stumble from the door, clinging to each other, hacking and spitting.

And suddenly Saskia and Matthew are beside us, wrapping us in their arms and guiding us from the smoke. And when we’re far enough away that the air feels cool against our skin, we all slump for a moment, transfixed by the flames, as if watching a procession of cobras dancing to eastern music, the orange reflected in our eyes. Rebel Headquarters, gone for ever. Strange to think, after centuries upon centuries of worship and humanity and war and technology, something as primeval as fire should tear it to the ground. And it’s impossible to look away, like watching a lion take down a gazelle – in spite of the horror and the overriding sadness, you can’t help admiring the sheer strength of the beast.

Finally, Ash leans into me. ‘We need to run.’

But he’s too late. I’m too late. Thorn hasn’t forgotten my earlier confession, and as I try to stand, he’s already pounced on me, dragging me back to my knees. And I’m reminded again of the lion. But I feel no admiration now I’m the gazelle; only pain and indignity and terror.

‘No!’ Saskia screams. ‘She was just saying it to save her friend.’

‘Thorn, please,’ Katie yells.

Ash rams into him, but he makes little impact against Thorn’s heavy frame.

Thorn turns to Matthew. ‘Keep a tight hold of her boyfriend. I want him to see this.’

Matthew twists Ash’s arms behind his back, murmuring something directly into his ear. I don’t know what Matthew said, but it’s enough to drain away all of Ash’s fight.

‘Are you ready, Little Flower?’ Thorn asks.

Cold metal pushes into my temple. I can’t breathe. White spots gather in my vision. My lips go numb.

Katie moves in front of us. Her body blocks out the church so it looks like she’s on fire, like she’s some terrifying demon. She shows us the white of her palms and fixes Thorn with that look. ‘You don’t have to do this. Please, for me, let her go.’

I hear his voice, filled with anger and hate. ‘She betrayed us, Katherine. She told the Gems about the raid on the Meat House, they ambushed us at the Coliseum. She led them right to us – she must have worn some sort of tracking device. They killed dozens of us, captured the rest.’

Katie’s voice remains measured yet firm, her hair merging into the red of the flames. ‘Violet would never betray the Imps.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because I know Violet.’ Her gaze clicks somewhere else for a moment, and I see the slightest of cracks in her calm demeanour. ‘I had a lot of time to think about the things you told me when we were in the cell together,’ she says, changing tack.