Night Witches Part 23

I don't blame her for crying. I am too, inside. *He's serious, Pip! Just do what he says!'

*Do what?'

*You know!' she screams in panic as her father presses the gun harder against her skull. *Do that thing. The power. The black feathers. I had to tell him about it, I had to.'

Black feathers sprouting as I chased Steen Verdessica's plane out of the sky and into the Mora.s.s. Black feathers flying as I caught a Storm so Petra and Lida would be safe. A black feather circling as Haze leans over a bowl of water in the bath-house, chanting . . .

Black Night's daughter Bright White's kin Let the lights go out a"

Let the Witch come in!

*You want a witch?' I growl at Uncle Mentira and all the stone-faced Scrutiners. *All right. Fine. I'll show you a witch!'

Lights explode. Darkness rushes in to fill the void. In my mind I'm a thousand klicks away, walking on a leaf-strewn path. My hands brush silver-bark branches and send up clouds of spores. In the real world I find I'm running my fingers along the white walls of the laboratory, looking for something I can gouge my nails into, anything alive I can tear or pull apart. Nothing. The walls and floor are opaque gla.s.s a" burned sand that was once stone. My feet are heavy, trailing their bane-metal chains. It's a prison. I'm trapped.

The adults are useless in the dark. Even Zoya's night-vision won't help her in a room with no light at all. She's huddled up against her papi, blind eyes darting all around.

*Pip!'

Don't Pip me. I'm not that kid, not that tiddler.

Why's Zoya got her arm up? What's she pointing at? The door?

I sweep round the walls again and feel a sliver of free air. Zoya left the door open a crack! I seize it with both hands and pull it out of the wall, just as I did with Steen's prison door. This time I'm not breaking in, I'm breaking out. Out in the corridor the building is made of bioweave as normal. I dig my nails in and start to run, pad pad pad like a wolf, unpeeling the walls as I go. Soon I'm trailing a tumbling ma.s.s of grey.

Scrutiners spring out at me. I wrap them in the walls. A wormling of doubt wiggles into my mind. Have I gone too far? Is it too late for me to creep back inside the sh.e.l.l of my borrowed body and slink around pretending to be normal somehow? Don't know. This defiance is uncharted territory. Off the map. Off the path.

Don't step off the path.

Forget the path. What did Reef say? Become lost.

Lost? I'm losing everything I ever cared about with every moment that pa.s.ses a" family, friends, Reef . . . If I let the monster out will I lose myself or become myself?

The corvil struggles from my jacket pocket and climbs to my shoulder. It sounds a single caa that seems to echo for ever. I spread my arms like wings. My fingers seem to stretch along the bioweave up to the roof and down to the foundations, stopping only where they find cold gla.s.s. When I flex, the walls shred, exposing a giant hub of labs and computing rooms, floor after floor of cubicles and corridors, filled with scientists and secretaries fumbling for emergency lights. There is no heart to this place, only thousands of nerve centres creating the brain that is Aura. It's not alive. It's not interested in life . . . and yet it wants to survive. It wants me to protect it. It wants me to be a good girl by going bad.

A little sound catches my consciousness in the middle of all other noises jostling for my attention. It's the fainter-than-faint sound of hair strands brushing against each other. There's a click. A lighter-box sparks. A flame jumps out.

Uncle Mentira is behind me in the corridor. In his right hand he holds a lighter-box, flicking the catch so it clicks and ignites again. His left hand is closed around something secret. He opens his palm. The breeze from the torn walls wafts over a set of fine black hairs.

My hair.

I know who brought him that. My navigator. My cousin. My friend.

*Your hair's a complete mess . . . Hand your hairbrush over,' Zoya said.

Click.

Uncle Mentira lights the flame and holds it towards one single strand of hair.

Agony One word a" five letters a" an infinity of klicks beyond the actual sensation of pain I feel as the fire touches the strand of hair.

I burn!

Not for real a" not with normal flames that can be doused by water or smothered in sand. This fire is like having melted sun poured into my soul. If I scream it's not with any normal voice but from somewhere deep and primitive. A well of rage finds expression in this scream. I cannot move. Cannot bear the pain. Cannot live a moment longer with such torture.

Snuff.

The fire goes out. The burned hair curls. The smell is vile. I collapse on the corridor floor. My lungs find air. My mouth finds words.

*Make a" it a" stop!'

*It will stop as soon as you see reason and follow orders.'

*Going a" to a" Sea-Ways . . .'

Click. The lighter-box burns again. Uncle Mentira holds the hair strand close. I see the flame reach up greedily a" see every hue of orange, white and blue. Again a" the pain! Again I scream for help. Again he blows the fire out. I try to rise.

My lips are cracked. I can only manage to mouth, *Sea-Ways . . .'

Click.

No no no not again can't bear the pain can't stand the flames make it stop make it stop make it . . .

. . . stop.

On my shoulder Eye Bright has spread its feathers and launched into the air. It flies for the first time, straight at Uncle Mentira, beak stabbing and wings thrashing. Its claws grab the hair and the lighter-box. At the same time Zoya hurls herself through the darkness into her father, pushing him over.

*Run, Pip, run!'

In these chains? I lumber over to the ripped wall and look down. Why run when I can fly, or jump at least, grasping bioweave so the walls unravel as I fall. I feel beautiful black feathers float around me, so soft I could lie in them for ever. When I look up, a line of Scrutiners are peering down, blind eyes roving. Zoya's there too, with the corvil circling round her head.

*I didn't know . . .' she calls down.

I flounder out of the feathers and start tugging at the chains. It's killing me to wear them.

*Didn't know what? That bane-metal would bind me? That burning witch hair is a weapon?'

*I didn't know it would hurt so much. I didn't want to spy on you. I got ac-reqs. I had to do what Aura says, everybody does.'

I don't want to hear any more reasons or excuses. *I'm going.'

*Where?'

*Where do you think? Back to the squadron.'

*What will everyone say?'

*Will you listen to yourself? Do you think you can spend your entire life worrying about what other people will think or say? Forget Aura, forget your father, do what you think is right!'

To Zoya's credit she only hesitates a moment then she says, *I'm going to jump. Catch me!'

She leaps and screams simultaneously. Without thinking I spread a bed of feathers and let her land in it. She struggles to her feet and tries to pick feathers from her hair. I'm already limping away. My ankles are burning where the bane-metal rubs. Zoya stumbles after me.

The city all around is almost completely lightless a" did I do that? The darkness at the far end of the avenue we're standing on starts to vibrate. Something is moving down the street.

*How are we going to get back to Sea-Ways?' Zoya pants. *They'll never let us on the train, even if it's still working, then there's the Crux blockade.'

A little smile twists the corner of my mouth and my heart starts to dance. *I thought we could fly.'

Zoya gawps. *Can you really do that?'

My smile widens. *I can in one of those . . .'

I hear the sweet, sweet sound of propellers turning. There it comes, rounding the corner of the avenue, a fine sight. *A fine sight, indeed,' Uncle Mentira might say, if he wasn't too busy floundering around in darkness.

Marina Furey jumps down from the c.o.c.kpit of the Storm in her usual state of rumpled energy. She's got lo-glo sticks poking out of every pocket and even one round her neck. Her eyes are flashing. It's too dark for her to see the damaged laboratory hub behind me but she catches sight of the chains round my legs and the corvil now climbing clawfully up my sleeve.

*If I thought you had answers you'd have a ton of explaining to do, Rain Aranoza. As for you, Zoya Mentira, I got your bizarre paper note saying Rain might need wings in a hurry. Na! Did I ever tell you how much I hate being out in the dark?'

Now Zoya has her chance to look smug. *I had to do what Uncle Mentira told me to but n.o.body said anything about not asking for help and I thought paper was safer than messaging through Aura.'

I stare at her. *So you have got a rebellious streak after all?'

Zoya frowns. *Don't tell everyone.'

*Do you know what's been happening?' I ask Furey nervously. I've no idea if I even look like myself or like the monster everyone says I am.

*Haven't a clue!' she replies. *However, I do know things are bad in Sea-Ways and we need every Storm crew we can get if we're going to keep the Crux out of the city during the Long Night. The siege is now full circle. The blockade is complete. We've not got long before dawn, and then very little time before the Eclipse begins, so move yourself! I suggest you use this street as your runway and take off before the city's power is restored and an army of Scrutiners comes chasing us.'

*Us?'

*You didn't think I'd let you fly one of these wooden toys unescorted, did you? Give me time to get to the airbase here and we'll be right behind you in a People's Number Forty-eight Fighter Plane . . .'

*We?' asks Zoya. *I don't know how to navigate one of those.'

*Neither do I, but I'm a fast learner,' comes a new voice. And here is Ang, climbing out of the Storm. She's got her Hero of Rodina medal pinned nicely to the front of her dress.

I turn to Furey. *Don't do it. Please, I mean it. You don't have to.'

She looks down at me and shakes her head. *Yes I do.'

*But you could get hurt . . .' You could get killed.

*My daughter's trapped in the siege, Aranoza. Do you think I wouldn't sacrifice anything to make Tilly safe, whatever Aura's ac-reqs or your feelings?'

*She'll be safe,' I say, thinking of my vision of Tilly that showed her living to old age. *Buta"'

*b.u.t.t out, Aranoza. Go! Fly!'

Furey boosts me into the Storm, not wasting words asking what the chains are all about. Like a white flood, Scrutiners come running down the street. They needn't bother shooting, I'm not stopping. It takes all my strength to pull the Storm's control stick back, especially since this seat is too low for me. We only lift off the ground at the very last moment. The plane rises like my spirits.

The last I hear from Furey is a faint cry of *Safe skies and combat glory!'

Ahead, a pale light softens Corona's suburban silhouettes. It's the last dawn before the Eclipse.

Mouth open I drink the cold air in. Eyes wide I watch the Nation rush past.

It's a painfully beautiful morning. Everything is stained with the pink and orange of sunrise, as well as the red of un-set Umbra. Flying towards it I feel tiny, just a speck on a vast planet turning in s.p.a.ce. I'm bursting to be bigger. If I peel my skin off could I leap high enough to break the roof of the sky? Could I soar through comets and cosmic dust, past Umbra's russet-red rings? Could I plummet right into the searing heat of the sun and still live to tell the tale?

That's just it. I don't know. What can I do? See in the dark. See how people die. See futures swirl in still water. What use is that?

The Storm is slow, slow, slow. I can't count the klicks off fast enough. We follow the Transnation train tracks south to Sea-Ways. The sun pours out as much light as it can, as if it knows how close the Eclipse is. Soon there won't be days and nights, just many-days-long darkness.

*What are you going to say to everyone when we get back?' Zoya calls from behind me.

*I don't know. I'll think of something. If we get back . . . Can you hear that?'

The all too familiar shriek of Screamers slices the sky.

*There's no gun on this Storm!' Zoya shouts. *We can't outfly them or shoot at them!'

The only hope is to outmanoeuvre them a" not easy when you want to keep your hands over your ears. Bullets cut into wood. What can I do?

I spread my arms and take a deep breath, drawing a great gulp of energy in. I become wind in the leaves. Leaves on the trees. I scatter like spores yet still stay solid. It's the most amazing feeling. The dive-bombers turn for a second dive, hunting in pairs as usual. They scream at me. I scream back. The sky darkens. This is not the slow creep of Umbra's curve across the sun's white disc, this is a storm of black feathers a" I am the storm!

I send the Screamers down to furrow the ground in smoke and flames. I'd yell with joy if I didn't suddenly feel utterly drained. My chains are so heavy! The Storm dips, losing alt.i.tude, then the nose rises again.

*I have control!' shouts Zoya, working the dual equipment as I rest.

No, the Crux have control a" I see Sea-Ways ahead, completely surrounded now by hostile armies. Bomb-slingers send death into the city. Two more Screamers rise up to keep us from breaching the siege. Zoya has us twisting and turning while I somehow raise another furious cloud of unnatural black. One Screamer is silenced. Where's the other? Can hear it, can't see it . . . We're turning every way at once in a maelstrom of feathers and fear, screams getting closer, the Storm pulling apart, time stretching, control slipping, world spinning . . .

An explosion! Shrapnel jags the Storm's wood and wings. Fire flashes, smoke blinds a" a new plane has joined the fight. A People's Number Forty-eight Fighter!

*It's Furey! She's found us! She's saved us!' Zoya whoops.

The fighter is so much faster than our little Storm. Furey has to make a wide arc before flying past again with a cheeky waggle of her wings. We wave to her and Ang, then they're gone. Not for long. When the next pair of Screamers screeches into view Furey is straight at them, guns blazing.

Around Sea-Ways army-issue lamps speckle the ranks of the besiegers. They're tiny compared to the sun they'll have to replace. Perhaps the Crux will pray to their G.o.d to bring the light back again. In the meanwhile, they'll have to deal with me and my darkness.

Except I'm tired. Na! Even the plane is sluggish. The fuel needle starts to tremble over the red section on the dial. Almost empty.

To the Crux on watch-duty we must be a smudge of a silhouette against the sun's last-ditch dazzle. It's all they can do to set their weapon sights on us.

Umbra touches the sun and takes a bite of the brightness.

*Furey can't fly in the dark!' shouts Zoya. *And her plane's not wood like ours. The bioweave could start unravelling, doesn't she realise that?'

I think of Furey's steady grey gaze back at Corona. *She knows.'