31

Candy-Anne flitted between the trees, machine gun clutched in her hand. Up ahead she could hear something squeaking like a badly oiled hinge. She reached a small clearing as the moon emerged from behind a cloud.

At one end was a derelict schoolhouse, overgrown with moss and half of its roof missing. Outside was a cracked concrete playground with a rusty chute, a climbing frame and a set of swings. One plastic chair was moving back and forth, as if someone had recently been sitting there.

“This is suitably creepy,” she muttered, inching along the tree line. “Come out and show yourself, Spider.”

There was a sharp crack and the weapon spun from her hands. The woman dropped to her stomach and scrabbled around until she found the gun.

“Damn!”

A bullet was embedded in the firing mechanism.

“I’m afraid darkness becomes me.” A voice wafted over the clearing.

Candy-Anne looked up.

The Spider was perched on the swing, pointing a rifle in her direction. She flattened herself against the carpet of grass and slithered backwards.

“I haven’t got all night,” the Spider called. “A couple of youngsters hired me to protect them.”

The woman stayed where she was, invisible in the thick undergrowth. All she had to do was delay her adversary until Victor and his team were finished mopping up. If the Spider headed for the house, she could get behind him and the advantage would be hers again.

“Forcing my hand, eh? What if I even things up?” The man hopped off the swing, raised the rifle and snapped it across his knee. “I’ve been ordered not to kill you anyway.”

“That was a dumb move.” Candy-Anne got to her feet and sauntered into the clearing, removing a large blade from the scabbard by her side. “This is my preferred weapon.”

“What a lark! I have one of those too.” The Spider pulled the kitchen knife from his belt. “I’m told I am quite the expert with it.”

“You’d better be.”

The assailants sized each other up across the playground. Candy-Anne shifted her knife from hand to hand while the Spider stayed perfectly still.

Then they ran at each other.

The blades flashed in the moonlight as both thrust and parried, steel ringing on steel. The Spider was by far the stronger of the two, but Candy-Anne was more agile. They slashed, kicked and punched, each searching for the weak link in the other’s defences.

Slowly the Spider’s strength began to tell and Candy-Anne was forced back towards the climbing frame. Before she reached it, she turned and jumped, hit one of the rungs and somersaulted over the man’s head. She struck out as she landed, thrusting her weapon into the Spider’s back.

He bellowed in pain and wrenched himself free. Then he dived into the tangle of struts and wriggled through them, kicking out with both feet, Candy-Anne close behind. She took a nick out of his leg and he yelled again.

“You’re big and I’m small,” the woman gloated, writhing between the rods. “This is the wrong terrain for you to make a stand.”

“I am quite at home surrounded by bars.” The Spider reached up, pulled a rusty spar from the frame and hurled it at the woman’s head.

Candy-Anne bent backwards, banging her skull on another painted strut, as the hunk of metal whizzed past. In the seconds it took for her to recover, the Spider had wormed his way through the contraption and out the other side.

The woman climbed quickly up the frame and balanced on the top. “I’m the queen of the castle!” she crowed.

“Then prepare to be dethroned.” The Spider blew a raspberry at her.

“Come get me,” the woman taunted. “Every second you spend here gives Victor more time to find those kids.”

The Spider gritted his teeth and began to climb the frame. He was halfway up when Candy-Anne jumped.

Her arm snaked round his neck as she descended and he was jerked backwards with a strangled cry. Candy-Anne landed on her feet and let go, as her opponent landed on his back with a stomach-turning thud. She sliced down and the Spider jerked his head to the side, the knife chipping a slice of concrete next to his ear. His arm shot out and slammed into Candy-Anne’s throat. She staggered away, fighting for breath. Tad was on his feet in an instant and the two faced each other once more.

“You’re very good,” the woman coughed. “Better than I expected.”

“Ditto.” Her opponent gave a gracious bow. “Sure you wouldn’t like to switch to the winning side?”

“I’m always on the winning side. Can you say the same?”

“Not lately. But I’m out to change that.”

They ran at each other again.

The clearing rang with grunts and cries. This time they were evenly matched, for the Spider was noticeably slower. His face was twisted with pain and blood was seeping through his shirt. But he was still strong as an ox and neither of them could find an advantage.

Then Candy-Anne tripped over a loose slab of stone. The Spider knocked the knife from her hand and pounced, landing on top of his opponent.

“You know why I’m called the White Spider?” he hissed into her face. “Because no quarry I was after ever escap—”

“I’m nobody’s quarry.” The woman struck out with sharpened nails, gouging a furrow across his forehead.

“Aaaaaaaah!” The Spider recoiled.

Candy-Anne drew up both knees and catapulted the man off. As she leapt to her feet, the Spider threw his knife. The woman clapped her hands together, catching the blade inches from her face.

“Game over, my friend.”

“Seems like it.” The Spider scrabbled up and raced away, wiping desperately at the blood trickling into his eyes. Candy-Anne flicked his blade into the air, caught the handle and went after him.

The Spider raced for the trees, his pursuer a few feet behind. Suddenly he changed direction and put on a spurt of speed, moving faster than should have been humanly possible. He crashed into one of the swings and kept going, grasping the plastic seat to his chest. Up he went, at incredible speed, over the top of the bar. Before Candy-Anne could react, he was rocketing down behind her. His feet slammed into her spine and she flew through the air. She collided with a tree and bounced back onto the asphalt, out cold.

“Good effort, young lady.” The Spider gave an almighty tug and pulled the entire swing from its moorings. His head was swimming and he was close to blacking out. “You almost beat me.” He wrapped the chains round Candy-Anne and tied them in a knot. “That should keep you for a while.” He weaved his way into the woods, using the trunks to keep himself upright. “But I’m no use to anyone like this.” His legs gave way and he began to crawl towards the house.

He could feel the Atlas Serum going to work, repairing torn tissue and muscle. But it was too slow. No matter how much danger the kids were in, he was out of the game unless he could hide and rest for a while.

Charlie and Daffodil were on their own.