The Power(15)

The voice says: There is a need for a prophet in the land.

Allie thinks, But who?

The voice says: Just try it on for size, honey. Remember, if you’re going to stay here, you’re going to need to own the place so they can’t take it from you. The only way you’re safe, honeybun, is if you own it.





Roxy



Roxy’s seen her dad hit blokes before. She’s seen him hit them square in the face, with all his rings on, casual, just as he was turning to leave. She’s seen him punch a bloke till his nose was bleeding and he fell to the floor, and Bernie kicked him in the stomach again and again, and when he was finished he wiped his hands on the handkerchief from his back pocket and looked down at the mess of the bloke’s face and said, ‘Don’t you fuck with me. Don’t you think you can fuck with me.’

She’s always wanted that.

Her dad’s body is a castle for her. A shelter and a weapon. When he puts his arm around her shoulders she feels a mixture of terror and comfort. She’s run up the stairs from his fist, screaming. She’s seen how he hurts people who want to hurt her.

She’s always wanted to have that. It’s the only thing worth having.

‘You know what’s happened, don’t you, darling?’ says Bernie.

‘Fucking Primrose,’ says Ricky.

Ricky’s the oldest of her half-brothers.

Bernie says, ‘It was a declaration of war, killing your mum, darling. And it’s taken us a long time to be sure we can get him. But now we’re sure. And we’re ready.’

There’s a look that passes around the room, between Ricky and Terry the middle son, between Terry and Darrell the youngest one. Three sons from his own wife, and then there’s Roxy. She knows why she’s been living with her granny this past year and not with them. Half in and half out, that’s what she is. Not in enough to have over for Sunday lunch but not out enough to leave out of something like this. Something like this involves all of them.

Roxy says, ‘We should kill him.’

Terry laughs.

His dad gives him a look, and the laugh cuts off halfway through a breath. You don’t want to mess with Bernie Monke. Not even if you’re his full-born son. ‘She’s right,’ says Bernie. ‘You’re right, Roxy. We should probably kill him. But he’s strong and he’s got a lot of friends, and we need to go slow and careful. If we do it, we’re gonna do it just the once. Knock everything out in one go.’

They get her to show them what she can do. She holds back a bit, gives each of them a dead arm in turn. Darrell swears when she touches him, and she feels a bit sorry. Darrell’s the only one who’s always been nice to her. He brought her an extra chocolate mouse from the sweetshop whenever his dad took him over to her mum’s after school.

After she’s finished, Bernie rubs his big arm and says, ‘That all you can do?’

So she shows them. She’s seen stuff on the internet.

They follow her out into the garden, where Bernie’s wife Barbara has one of them ornamental ponds full of big orange fish swimming around and around each other.

It’s cold. Roxy’s feet crunch on the frost-crisped grass.

She kneels down and puts the tips of her fingers into the pond.

There’s a smell, suddenly, like ripe fruit, sweet and succulent. The smell of high summer. A flicker of light in the dark water. A sound like a hiss and a crackle.

And one by one the fish bob up to the surface of the water.

‘Fuck!’ says Terry.

‘Bloody hell!’ says Ricky.

‘Mum’s going to be pissed off,’ says Darrell.

Barbara Monke never came to see Roxy, not after her mother died, not after the funeral, nothing. Roxy’s glad, for a moment, thinking of her coming back to see all her fish dead.

‘I’ll deal with your mother,’ says Bernie. ‘We can use this, Rox, my girl.’

Bernie finds a couple of his blokes who’ve got daughters about the right age, gets them to show what they can do, too. They do play-fighting. Sparring each against each, or two against one. Bernie watches them in the garden, sparking and flickering. All over the world people are going crazy about this thing, but a few people always look at anything and go, ‘Where’s the profit in this, and where’s the advantage?’

One thing’s certain after the sparring matches and practice bouts. Roxy’s got a lot of it. Not just more than average, more than any of the other girls they can find to practise with her. She learns a few things about radius and reach, about how to make it arc and how it works better on wet skin. She feels proud of how strong she is. She puts everything into that.

She’s the strongest one they’ve found, out of all the girls they’ve heard of.

That’s why, when it comes time, when Bernie’s arranged the whole thing and they know just where Primrose is going to be, that’s why Roxy comes along, too.

Ricky pulls her into the loo before they leave. ‘You’re a big girl now, right, Rox?’

She nods. She knows about this, kind of.

He pulls a little plastic bag out from his pocket and taps some white powder on to the side of the sink.

‘You’ve seen this before, haven’t you?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Ever done it before?’