Fracture ns-3 Read online

  And they’d done nothing about it.

  They all let me down. They all betrayed us. And I’ll be damned if I’m going to let that happen again.

  Suddenly, she stopped pacing. She knew what she had to do.

  Yanking the heavy door open, she headed straight for Isabelle’s office, running to get there before she lost her nerve. She was going to tell the headmistress she didn’t want to go to school here any more. She couldn’t go on like this. She’d go anywhere in the world as long as it was far away from here. Out in the real world she could find out what was really going on. She’d talk to her grandmother and together they’d find Jo’s killers. And they’d punish them.

  Tucked away under the main staircase, which soared upward from the central hall in a theatrical swoop of ornate polished oak, Isabelle’s door was hidden so cleverly in the intricately carved panelling that when Allie first came to Cimmeria she’d had trouble seeing it. She didn’t have that problem any more.

  Her jaw clenched, she shoved the door open without knocking. ‘Isabelle, you have to —’

  The office was empty.

  The headmistress had obviously left in a hurry – the black cashmere cardigan she’d been wearing earlier was draped carelessly across the back of a chair. Steam still rose from a cup of Earl Grey tea, which sat in the middle of the leather blotter on top of her desk next to her glasses…

  And her mobile phone.

  Her mouth slightly open, Allie stared at it. Her brain couldn’t register what she was seeing.

  All electronic devices were banned at Cimmeria. Of all The Rules, this was the most strictly enforced. No computers, no televisions, and absolutely no phones.

  If students wanted to phone someone they needed permission from the headmistress. They were only allowed to call their parents, and even then only if they had a good reason. But here was a phone, right within her reach.

  As she’d stared at it, Allie’s mind had whirred through a checklist of things that would happen. Isabelle would never forgive her. She’d be expelled. She’d lose her friends. But she might also find out what was really going on. And that could force Isabelle and Raj to finally do something.

  So she picked up the phone, stuck it in her pocket and walked out of the door.

  THREE

  Outside Cimmeria’s gates, the forest was wilder, blocking the weak rays of late afternoon light. Here, it was already night and Allie looked uneasily over her shoulder as she hurried through the gloom.

  With every step she assured herself she was doing the right thing. Nathaniel was out there somewhere and he was looking for her but Allie didn’t care any more. She was so exhausted, so angry, so broken… staying wasn’t an option. She had to go.

  But she’d never felt more exposed. She was completely alone now. And Jo’s killers could be anywhere.

  It was unnervingly quiet, the only sound the crunching of dried twigs under her feet. The sun was setting and the cold was growing intense – the wind cut through the fabric of her coat, chilling the sweat on her skin. In her pockets her hands balled into icy fists.

  At least I know where I’m going, she thought.

  She’d made so many trips to hospitals recently she’d come to know the local roads pretty well, and as she walked she calmed herself by thinking through the route in her head – visualising a map. By her own calculation she wasn’t far from the main road. Once there, all she had to do was turn right and then follow the signs. There were fewer trees around the main road, and more light. It wouldn’t be as spooky.

  All she had to do was get through these woods and she’d be safe. It was simple.

  And it all went perfectly. In fact, she’d almost reached the crossroads when a sound, as faint as an intake of breath, made the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end.

  Stifling a gasp, she darted right, ducking behind the thick trunk of a tall pine. Crouching low, her hands pressed against the rough bark, she peered into the gloom.

  Whatever that was, she didn’t think it had been made by the trees.

  From her hiding spot, she could see no one. But the woods were dark and filled with shadows that shivered and danced with the breeze. Each one could be a person. Each one could be a killer.

  She was beginning to find it hard to breathe.

  Someone could be standing right behind me and I’d never see him. Gabe could be standing a few feet away watching me right now. The thought made her queasy with fear and she pounded a fist against her forehead. Why did I do this? I’m such an idiot. I’ve walked right up to him…

  Clinging to the tree trunk, she fought for calm. If someone really was out there, she needed to think.

  For a long moment she froze, listening; poised to run at the slightest sound. But there was only silence and wind and trees swaying above her.

  After a while, Allie reasoned with herself. She could see nothing and hear nothing. The only hint she had that anyone was really out there came from her battered instincts. She tried to force herself to remember her training. What would Raj say if he were here?

  Trust your instincts but don’t be a slave to them, she thought. He’d say don’t react to fear – react to evidence.

  She could almost hear her instructor’s calming voice in her head. ‘And what does the evidence tell you now, Allie?’

  I can’t see anyone, or hear anyone. I’ve followed procedure and found no true threat.

  ‘The evidence tells me there’s no one there,’ she whispered, trying to believe it.

  Either way – whether someone was hiding in the woods nearby or not – she had two options: wait and see if they appeared, or keep moving and hope they didn’t.

  She chose the second.

  Grimacing from the pain, she limped as she ran through the forest towards the road. Her woollen hat slid to one side and she yanked it off, gripping it tightly until she’d made it into the middle of the crossroads. Only then did she stop and look back.

  She saw nothing but empty woods.

  Panting hard, she bent double, resting her hands on her knees. Her lungs ached from the exertion and the cold.

  And there was still a long way to go. They could come after her at any moment – she had to keep moving.

  She turned in the direction the map in her head pointed her. The one-lane road was bordered by tall hedgerows, bare and bristling at this time of year. Beyond them, muddy pastures and fields were quickly disappearing in the fading light.

  But the road was smooth and, if she was right, the town was a couple of miles down this road. She pulled her hat back on.

  All I have to do is keep moving and not have a nervous breakdown on the way.

  To pass the time, she went over her escape in her mind.

  It had been so easy, in the end. Almost as if they’d wanted her to go.

  After grabbing Isabelle’s phone from her desk, she’d hurtled up the stairs. In her pocket, the small device had seemed as heavy as a block of concrete; as hot as fire. She was certain people would somehow see it through the thick blue fabric of her skirt.

  On the landing, she’d shoved through the crowds of students chatting and laughing to reach a narrower staircase to the girls’ dorm. She’d kept her eyes on the floor in case her guilty expression should betray her.

  ‘Psycho,’ somebody said behind her, low and mocking. The cut-glass accent was unpleasantly familiar.

  Allie didn’t look up. She didn’t need to – she’d know Katie Gilmore’s voice anywhere.

  ‘Get out of her way or you die next,’ somebody else said and they all laughed.

  Fighting the urge to punch Katie in the face, Allie kept her eyes on the floor, counting each step under her breath. The numbers soothed her as they grew.

  … fifty-five, fifty-six, fifty-seven, fifty-eight, fifty-n…

  ‘Allie.’

  She jerked to a halt, eyes fixed on the pair of soft, cream-coloured sheepskin boots in her path.

  Slowly, she raised her gaze.

  Jules, the
girls’ prefect, stood in front of her, razor-straight white-blonde hair just brushing the tops of her shoulders, arms crossed disapprovingly. ‘Isabelle sent me to look for you.’

  Allie’s heart skipped a beat. Unconsciously her hand drifted to her skirt pocket, where it clutched the stolen phone.

  How had she already found out?

  Somehow though, despite the adrenaline racing through her veins, her voice was steady. ‘What does she want?’

  Jules gave her a strange look, as if she hadn’t expected that question. ‘I don’t know. She just said she was looking for you, and if I saw you to send you to her office.’

  Relief washed over Allie like cool water. Isabelle doesn’t know about the phone. Yet.

  The realisation made her bolder. ‘Right. Well, you’ve delivered your message, Jules, so your job is done.’ She took a step towards the prefect. ‘Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you or something? Shouldn’t you be with him?’

  Jules didn’t flinch but a red flush stained her neck, creeping to her face.

  Ever since the winter ball, Jules and Allie’s ex-boyfriend, Carter, had been an item – the Cimmeria power couple. Allie had got used to seeing them walking down the hall with Carter’s arm draped loosely across her shoulders; his dark hair juxtaposed strikingly against her blonde head. Like chess pieces – the black king with the white queen.

  It still made her stomach churn each time she saw them.

  ‘I don’t want to fight with you, Allie,’ Jules said evenly.

  ‘Oh good. Well, I’m going to my room for a second then I’ll run right downstairs to talk to Isabelle, like a good little girl.’ Allie knew it was petty to be bitchy to Jules but she couldn’t seem to help herself. She wanted a rise out of her – she longed for a screaming match. Or a fist-fight.

  But Jules refused to engage and, shoving past her, Allie hurried on to her room, closing the door with a bang. She didn’t have much time. Isabelle was bound to notice her phone was missing and it wouldn’t take long for her to figure out who’d taken it.

  The room was in chaos. Dirty clothes lay strewn on the floor, along with papers, bedding and rubbish. When she’d got out of the infirmary Allie had told Isabelle she didn’t want the cleaners in her room and the headmistress had reluctantly agreed. Now the place was a tip.

  Just the way Allie wanted it.

  Kicking off her skirt and sensible, school-issued shoes, she yanked on a pair of black skinny jeans. She’d lost weight after Jo’s death and they hung a bit loose on her but they’d do. Hastily lacing her red Doc Martens up to her knees, she grabbed a dark coat from the wardrobe and rummaged through the clutter on the floor for her hat and scarf. She was still shrugging on her coat as she dialled a familiar number.

  ‘What?’ The voice that answered her call was aggressive. But to Allie the thick London accent sounded like home.

  ‘Mark.’ Her voice was urgent but low. ‘It’s me.’

  ‘Allie?’ His tone changed. ‘Holy… How the hell are you?’

  ‘I’m in trouble.’

  The pleasure left his voice. ‘Where are you? Are you at home? Is it your parents?’

  ‘No,’ she said. ‘I’m at school. But something’s happened. Something bad.’

  He didn’t hesitate. ‘What do you need?’

  She looked out of the window where the daylight had begun to fade. ‘Want to run away with me?’

  The road was quiet at this hour. Picking up a stick, Allie threw it hard into a darkening pasture, listening for the faint thud as it landed on the rich soil, out of her sight.

  There were no streetlights, and the only houses were in the distance – she could just make out their lights twinkling across the fields. But she felt better out here, without trees blocking the ambient light. In fact, the further away from the school she got, the better she felt.

  Her left knee was a bit numb but it was taking her weight. She thought it would hold out until she got into town.

  Lost in thought, Allie tripped over a stone on the edge of the road and only just stopped herself from falling.

  Focus, Allie, she chided herself. Break your leg now and you’ll end up back in that stupid infirmary.

  In the distance, the rumble of a car engine disturbed the quiet country lane. She scrambled for a place to hide but the hedgerow was a solid wall on either side of the road. The car’s headlights brightened as it curved towards her.

  Panicking, Allie dived into the hedge, ignoring the sharp branches digging into her sides. She pushed back until she could go no further and waited.

  It could just be someone who lives around here, she told herself. It might not be a guard from Cimmeria.

  But she still held her breath as the car growled past her, exhaling only when it sped on into the night.

  They hadn’t seen her.

  The darkness seemed heavier after that as she resumed her walk, plucking bits of dried twig from her hair.

  Her whole body ached and the chill had permeated to her bones. To distract herself, she tried to imagine what Rachel was doing back at school right now.

  Rachel was her best friend and an utter bookworm, so Allie was fairly certain she knew precisely what she’d be doing: her advanced chemistry homework. She’d be sitting in the library in a deep leather chair, her books spread around her in the glow of the desk lamp. Her glasses would be sliding down her nose and she’d be happily lost in complex formulas and diagrams.

  At the image, Allie smiled to herself. But the smile faded quickly.

  Will she forgive me for running away without telling her?

  She shook her head to clear the thought away. It didn’t matter what anyone thought – even Rachel. This had to be done.

  Jo’s killers had to be punished. And since nobody else was doing it, Allie would do it on her own.

  FOUR

  In the end she was right about the directions but wrong about the distance – it was much more than two miles. She could hardly feel her feet by the time she arrived in the town two hours later.

  After the long walk on the dark road, the town’s bright streetlights were blinding and the traffic noise startling, but it wasn’t a particularly big place and Allie knew if she walked towards the centre eventually she’d find what she was looking for.

  Sure enough, a few minutes later an old-fashioned wrought-iron sign pointed her to the train station. It was nearly empty – the next train wasn’t due for quite a while. The waiting room was locked tight, along with the ticket office, so she lowered herself on to a cold, metal bench on the platform and waited. The night air was freezing; her breath puffed out in little clouds and for a while she amused herself trying to make smoke rings of steam.

  But that was only so much fun. And soon, shivering, she gave up, burrowing further into her coat, yanking the collar up to her ears.

  She must have dozed off because the train woke her with a start as it roared into the station. The long red carriages were packed with well-dressed commuters coming home from a day in the office. Allie watched blankly as they hustled down the platform without even a glance in her direction, hurrying to their waiting cars, their warm homes and happy families.

  She was so absorbed in watching them, wondering what it would be like to be them, she didn’t hear the boy sneaking up behind her.

  ‘Do you have permission to be here, miss?’

  Jumping to her feet, she launched herself at him with such force she nearly bowled him over. Her hat flew off her head, landing on the platform a foot away.

  ‘Mark!’ She hugged him tightly, breathing in the faint but not unpleasant scent of cigarette smoke that always clung to his clothes.

  He’d dyed the ends of his dark hair blue and mussed it into a swirl of black and blue; a tiny gold hoop earring peeked out through the tangles, matching the one in his eyebrow. While she’d been away his pimples had cleared up – he looked more grown-up. But his clothes were the same – tonight he wore torn jeans and a faded black T-shirt with ‘Revolution’ on it i
n mirror writing.

  Clearly surprised by the force of her greeting, he hesitated briefly before hugging her back. ‘What the hell, Allie? What am I doing here in –’ he paused to watch the last commuters in suits and high heels make their way out of the station – ‘wherever the hell we are?’

  At that moment she must have stepped into the glow of a security light, because she saw him notice the scar at her hairline – the doctors had shaved her temple to keep the wound clean. The hair was growing back but the jagged red line still stood out starkly.

  He whistled admiringly. ‘That’s a nice scar. Who hit you?’

  She grew serious. ‘It’s a long story, but it’s why I called you. I need your help.’

  ‘No kidding. You look like crap, Al.’ She saw him noticing with growing concern the circles under her eyes, her thinness and pallor. ‘What’ve they done to you?’

  The station was empty now. Behind them, with a groan and a screech, the train began to depart. But Allie lowered her voice anyway.

  ‘Some people tried to… to kill me. And now I can’t…’ She stopped. How could she explain this? Mark knew nothing at all about what had been happening in her life since she left London. Nothing about Cimmeria or Night School. Nothing about Nathaniel or murder. He was utterly outside that world.

  ‘Look, let’s just get on a train and get out of here, Mark,’ she said, grabbing his arm with sudden urgency and dragging him towards the station timetable. ‘I’ll tell you on the way. The next train to London, when is it?’

  Her mood change seemed to catch him off guard and he held up his hands. ‘Whoa, hang on. Look at the board.’ He pointed at the lighted schedule near the door. ‘The next train’s not for two hours. This is the back of beyond, remember?’

  Allie’s face must have fallen because he scrambled for an alternative. ‘Let’s go and get a drink and find somewhere to talk. We got plenty of time.’

  Glancing longingly back at the quiet rails behind them, she gave in and let him lead the way out of the station. What other option did she have?

  ‘OK,’ she said. ‘But let’s just… be on that train.’