Chris marched along the alleyway, his new cronies following him. He felt brilliant. More powerful than ever. He’d well and truly put Malcolm in his place. The boy was striding along with an expression like he’d sucked a lemon.
But when he reached the end of the alleyway Oliver had run, he stopped and looked around. The path went in two different directions.
“Where do we go now?” he demanded.
“There!” the ginger-haired girl who’d umpired his duel with Malcolm said suddenly.
She rushed forward and picked something up from the floor. It looked like a hair clip. A girl’s hair clip. One that clearly had not been invented in the era they currently stood.
“It’s one of theirs,” the ginger-haired girl said. “They must have gone this way.”
Chris nodded, pleased with her skills of deduction. “What’s your name?”
“Madeleine.”
“Okay, Madeleine. Keep your eyes peeled. You can be our tracker.”
Madeleine smiled, clearly proud of the role she’d been given.
They began marching along the streets. London was a dive, Chris thought. And it smelled. It was dirty and polluted and all the people crowding the streets looked like hobos. What a horrible city to live in.
When they reached the end of the street, Chris looked to Madeleine.
“Well? Where next?” he asked.
She floundered. “I don’t know. There aren’t any more clues.”
Chris saw the fear in her eyes and smirked. He loved putting people on edge.
Just then, something caught his eye. It looked like a glimmer. He frowned and went over to inspect it. Everyone followed him obediently.
“What is that?” he said, pointing at the strange shape on the ground. It looked like a footprint.
Silence came from behind. He turned and glared at everyone.
“Well? Someone answer me!”
Malcolm stepped forward. He looked very sheepish following his battle with Chris. His timidity made Chris feel even more powerful.
“We can’t see anything,” Malcolm said.
Chris glowered. “What are you, blind or something? It’s right there. A footprint, I think. Yes, look, there’s more, leading off that way.”
Malcolm shuffled from one foot to the next. When he spoke, it was a mumble. “It must be your powers.”
“What?” Chris demanded, unable to hear him.
“I said, it must be your powers. Something unique to you.”
Chris paused to let that sink in. “Oh…. You mean because I’m an awesome nuclear seer I’m better than you? I can see things you can’t? Like X-ray vision?”
Malcolm sucked his cheeks in. Chris could tell he wanted to say no, but he wasn’t dumb enough to challenge him again.
“Yes,” he said, sighing.
Chris grinned, delighted.
Madeleine spoke up. “I wonder if it’s Oliver’s trail,” she said. “There’s a connection between you two, after all. That’s why Mistress Obsidian wanted you. Perhaps your powers can help track him.”
If they were indeed footprints that led him to Oliver that would be so satisfying! A trail of breadcrumbs he’d accidentally dropped for them to follow.
“Let’s follow them and find out,” Chris said, his excitement swelling.
He marched onward. His crew followed behind like obedient little sheep. Chris could hardly temper the excitement in his stomach. He had his powers now and was starting to be able to control them. He had a nuclear specialism, which was apparently so dangerous it had been banned. And he was leader. There was only one thing he needed to complete this perfect picture: Oliver’s dead body lying limply in his arms. He just couldn’t wait.
The footprints brought them all the way to the banks of the Thames. It was even smellier here, Chris thought. He wrinkled his nose with disgust.
Just then, a man in rags lurched out of the shadows. He was extremely filthy, his clothes little more than rags that were draped over his bony figure.
He lunged at Madeleine, grabbing her round the neck with one arm, while the other hand held a knife up to her throat.
“Empty your pockets!” the man yelled. “All of you. Or the girl gets it.”
Madeleine’s eyes were wide with fear.
“Get off her!” Chris bellowed.
He cast out with his powers. A jet of something acidic sprayed from his wrists straight into the man’s eyes. The man let go of Madeleine and clutched his face, staggering, screaming in agony.
“My eyes!” he cried.
He staggered about haphazardly. Then he lost his footing and slipped into the river. He thrashed in the water.
Chris began to laugh. The rest of the Obsidians did too. They watched until the man disappeared beneath the dark waters.
Chris turned to Madeleine. “Are you okay?”
She nodded and straightened out her uniform. “I’m fine. Thanks for jumping in there. He took me by surprise.”
Chris looked sharply at the rest of his gang. “Next time someone starts on us, feel free to do something, all right? Don’t leave all the hard work up to me.”
They nodded, looking like they’d been put in their place. Chris felt a surge of power. He had them in the palm of his hand now.
They carried on, following the curve of the river and the glowing footprints that Chris could see alongside it. As they went, the houses got bigger. They were still built directly up to the road but the distances between them seemed to grow. Chris got the impression they were in a wealthier part of London than before.
The glowing footprints turned off the main road and up a side street. Chris beckoned for his gang to follow him.
They followed the footprints all the way up to a large manor house. It had a short door and a shiny, solid-gold knocker. Through the windows came bright yellow light and the sounds of merriment. It seemed like there was a party going on inside.
“Are we here?” Madeleine asked.
Chris nodded. “This is where the footprints stop.”
Malcolm tiptoed closer and looked at the name plaque beside the door. Then he turned back suddenly, a look of sheer surprise on his face.
“What?” Chris demanded.
“The name. On the plaque,” Malcolm said. “The person whose house this is.”
“Well?” Chris prompted, growing more irritated. “Spill. Whose house is it?”
Malcolm began to smile. “According to the plaque, it’s Isaac Newton’s.”