Jo jumped to her feet sending chess pieces scattering across the floor.
‘What …?’ She looked confused, fearful.
‘He’s hurt. Phil too. It went wrong.’
Allie stood up and moved to Jo’s side. ‘What happened? Where are they?’
Ruth gave her an appraising look; Allie thought she saw Jo nod.
‘The summerhouse,’ Ruth said.
‘Let’s go,’ Allie said, taking Jo by the hand and pulling her towards the common room door. Ruth didn’t follow them.
The two of them dashed through the grand entry hall where they skidded to a stop on the stone floor and shoved the heavy wooden door open. Outside the rain was pelting down. Allie dashed out without hesitation, but at the foot of the steps she stopped and turned to Jo.
‘Which way?’ She shouted to be heard above the noise of the storm as thunder rumbled above them.
Jo pointed past the west wing. They hurtled down the drive, then onto the wet grass and out towards the woods. Allie could hear her own ragged breathing ringing in her ears, the sound of rain … and nothing else.
A few minutes later she saw an elaborate Victorian gazebo through the trees. It was empty. They ran up the stairs and looked around, panting. Allie bent over with her hands on her knees trying to catch her breath.
Jo pointed into the woods. ‘There.’
Allie peered into the rainy gloom, but could see nobody.
Then she heard a shout that seemed to come from far away, deep in the forest. Allie looked at Jo to see if she’d heard. She was staring off into the trees, her lips slightly parted as she listened.
‘Did you hear that too?’ Allie whispered. Jo nodded, her eyes still fixed on the forest.
‘It’s Gabe,’ she whispered back.
They stood still, watching. More shouts, but they could see nothing. Then, after a few minutes, shadowy figures came into focus, walking out from between the trees. Allie could make out Carter and Gabe. They seemed to be holding somebody up between them. She couldn’t see who it was.
‘Oh my God.’ Jo was still whispering.
As the boys walked up the stairs to the summerhouse, Allie could see that they were wounded. Carter had a cut on his forehead that was bleeding heavily. Gabe had blood on his hands and shirt. He glared at Allie.
‘What the hell are you doing here?’
Carter turned to Gabe. ‘Not right now, man. We’ve got enough problems.’
Gently, they laid down the person they carried. Allie didn’t recognise him, but Jo gasped.
‘Phil. Oh no.’
Gabe looked up at her, his eyes worried. ‘I think he’s going to be OK. Sylvain’s gone to get help.’
Allie pulled at Gabe’s arm, turning it over to reveal a cut on his wrist bleeding freely.
‘Gabe,’ she breathed, colour disappearing from her face.
What the hell is happening? Allie thought, looking at the disaster scene in front of her. And why isn’t anybody else asking that question?
On his knees beside Phil, Carter tore a strip from the end of his shirt and tied it tightly around the unconscious boy’s leg. Then he tore another one and held it up to Jo. ‘Tie this around Gabe’s wrist.’
But Jo seemed unable to move. She held the white fabric as if she didn’t quite know what it was.
Seeing Jo’s fear, Allie stepped over. ‘I’ll do it.’
As she reached for the fabric, Jo let it fall from her hand.
The makeshift bandage fluttering, Allie turned to Gabe. ‘Hold out your hand.’
Gabe lifted his arm and Allie wrapped the strip expertly around his wrist and hand, weaving it into a tight bandage, then tucking the end in so the fit was snug.
‘Hold your hand above your heart until the bleeding stops,’ she intoned automatically.
Turning back towards Phil, she saw that Carter was watching her.
‘You’re bleeding too,’ she said.
‘I’m OK.’
‘I can see that. Someone should look at that cut.’
Hearing footsteps running across the grass, Allie looked up to see a group of people running their way. As they neared she saw that Sylvain was in the lead, Zelazny and Jerry right behind him. Zelazny glanced at Allie with irritation.
‘What is she doing here?’ His tone was accusing.
Sylvain’s eyes met Allie’s for a second then he returned his focus to Zelazny. His voice was soothing. ‘We’ll find out later – first we must deal with this.’
‘How bad is it?’ Jerry asked, checking the tourniquet.
Carter looked worried. ‘Not good. He needs a doctor. He’s bleeding a lot.’
‘What about you?’ Jerry asked.
Blood dripped down Carter’s face and onto his soaked white shirt, but he didn’t look up. ‘I’ll be fine. I just need a couple of stitches.’
‘OK, you and Gabe get to the nurse. Sylvain, help me with Phil. Everybody else, get back inside. Now.’
His tone was firm and on his last word they all moved at once. He and Sylvain carried Phil by draping his arms across their shoulders, and Zelazny hurried ahead of them. As if she’d been shaken awake, Jo turned to Gabe and hugged him.
Allie walked over to Carter and slipped her arm around his waist to help but he wrenched himself free.
‘I’m fine,’ he insisted roughly.
Flushing, Allie moved away from him.
‘If this is how you look when you’re fine, I’d hate to see you when you’re bad,’ she muttered.
He snorted derisively but walked alongside her, an arm’s length away.
‘What the hell was that all about, Carter?’ she asked, as soon as they were out of earshot of the others. ‘Why was everybody all Ninja all of a sudden? It was freaky.’
‘It was nothing,’ he said. ‘An accident. It happens.’
‘It happens?’ she asked, her voice disbelieving. ‘An accident in the woods in the pouring rain in which half the student population ends up bleeding to death … happens?’
The dark look he shot her was made even more murderous by the blood streaming down his face.
‘Has anybody ever mentioned you’ve got an exaggeration problem?’ he said.
‘No,’ Allie replied. ‘Anybody ever mention you’ve got a dickhead problem?’
After that, they didn’t speak.
As the rain pounded down on them, she cast a sideways glance at him from underneath lashes so covered in raindrops it was like looking through a waterfall. He was staring ahead, his jaw set.
When they reached the school steps, Isabelle stood at the top in a long white raincoat. The rain made a dull plastic sound as it pounded against the hood.
‘Carter. Allie. Are you OK? Carter, you look horrible.’
‘I’m fine,’ Carter insisted. ‘I just need a couple of stitches.’
Isabelle scrutinised him, then turned to Allie. ‘And you? Are you hurt?’
Allie shook her head and water poured onto her nose.
‘Good. Carter, get to the nursing station. Allie, would you come with me, please?’
Without waiting for a reply, she walked back inside briskly.
As Allie turned to follow her, Carter grabbed her elbow. She thought he looked like a victim in a horror film.
‘Come find me before curfew,’ he said. ‘I’ll be in the great hall.’ Then he sloshed into the school, leaving a trail of water in his wake.
Frowning, Allie’s eyes followed him down the hall.
‘As if,’ she muttered before hurrying after Isabelle.
They walked past the common room and then through a door so neatly hidden in the wood panelling that Allie had never noticed it before. Inside was a spacious, windowless office with a fireplace, its carved mantelpiece topped with unlighted candles. One wall was entirely covered in a tapestry – a knight with a sword, and a damsel by a white horse. Isabelle handed her a soft white towel, and Allie rubbed the water roughly out of her hair and then wrapped it around her shoulders, shivering. Now that she was inside she felt cold.
‘Please sit down.’ Isabelle gestured to two leather chairs across from her desk. She perched on the edge of the desk, watching her. Allie was conscious of the low timbre of classical music playing from hidden speakers.
‘You’re sure you’re OK?’ Isabelle asked. When Allie nodded she continued. ‘Good. I just want to talk to you for a minute, then I’m going to send you off to get some dry clothes. You’re not in any trouble, but I just need to know what happened tonight.’
Allie looked at her, puzzled. ‘I don’t …?’
‘I mean what were you and Jo doing out at the summer-house? Tell me what happened from the beginning.’
Allie wrapped the towel more tightly around her shoulders and thought quickly. Was someone in trouble?
Am I in trouble?
‘We were just … looking for Gabe,’ she said carefully. ‘Jo wanted to surprise him by sneaking up on him but we couldn’t find him. We went to the summerhouse to get out of the rain, and then we saw the boys coming out of the woods.’
She felt uncomfortable lying to Isabelle but the whole thing felt wrong. When Ruth had come to get them, she’d looked frightened. She’d been white as a sheet. Allie’s instincts told her to cover for Ruth, even though she didn’t know her very well.
Ruth wasn’t supposed to tell us anything.
Isabelle watched her closely. ‘Then what happened?’
‘We knew right away that something was wrong, but nobody would tell us what happened.’ The last bit sounded self-pitying, but really, why was everybody being so secretive?
‘Is that everything?’ The headmistress gave no indication at all that she didn’t believe her, so Allie decided it was time to ask some questions of her own.
‘Do you know what happened?’ she asked. ‘Carter refuses to tell me and everybody else acts like I’ve done something really wrong.’
Isabelle leaned forward. ‘I’m sorry about that, Allie. They shouldn’t behave like that. You’re new, and there’s no way for you to know. I’m not quite clear yet as to what happened or how the boys got hurt, but I intend to find out.’
‘It’s just,’ Allie said, ‘it looked really bad.’
Isabelle stood up. ‘I think it looked worse than it was. I’m told nobody was seriously injured, and sometimes games just get a little too rough. It’s nothing for you to worry about. I will speak with those involved.’
Isabelle dropped her hand to Allie’s shoulder and squeezed it lightly as she walked by her to the door, which she held open for her.
‘Thank you, Allie. I’m glad you’re OK. You don’t need to worry about Phil – he’s already being seen by medical staff. And it is clear to me that Gabe and Carter’s wounds are superficial.’
Though Allie felt as if she should have demanded more answers, Isabelle’s explanation did make sense. Boys did always get into trouble – she’d seen Mark and Harry hurt themselves plenty of times. They’d both ended up in A&E on more than one occasion after a night of tagging had gone wrong.
But what could have happened to them all out in the woods? And why won’t anyone tell me?
Back in her room she changed into a dry skirt and jumper, dumping her wet clothes on the floor. She wanted to get back downstairs before curfew and find out how everyone was doing.
As she dabbed on pale pink lip gloss in front of the mirror, though, her hand stopped. Should I go and meet Carter?
It wasn’t that she really wanted to meet him – he’d been a complete arse. She was just curious. Why did he want to meet her alone? And why in the great hall? She hadn’t been in there since Isabelle showed it to her the day she arrived.
She checked the clock. It was only ten. There was still plenty of time until curfew.
She dashed down the stairs then tiptoed down the corridor towards the great hall.
‘Allie.’ Sylvain’s silky accent caressed her name and she spun around to find him right behind her. ‘I was hoping to run into you. I was concerned – are you OK?’
He pulled her into a hug and, after hesitating, Allie hugged him back. His fingers delicately traced a line down her back to her waist.
Goosebumps.
He stood back to look at her. ‘You’re still wet. I’m so glad you’re not hurt.’
‘I’m fine.’
She tried to think of an excuse for what she was up to. There’s no way he would be happy to know she was on her way to meet Carter. But what he didn’t know, she reasoned, wouldn’t hurt her.
‘I was just looking for Jo …’ she said.
‘I believe she is with Gabe.’ His fingers were under her chin now, tilting her face up so that she looked at him. She could feel his breath on her cheek. He smelled of cool juniper.
‘What were you and Jo doing in the summerhouse anyway?’ His tone was casual, but something about his manner sent off warning signals. ‘Zelazny was very cross to see you there.’
Is he investigating me?
‘It was before curfew,’ Allie argued. ‘I don’t see why everybody cares that we were outside. We just wanted to go out. So we did.’
Allie was tired of being questioned. ‘We thought it would be fun,’ she said. ‘And, you know what? I could ask you the same question. What were you doing outside in the pouring rain?’
He studied her curiously, as if he saw something new in her he hadn’t noticed before.
‘Fair enough, ma belle.’ For the first time she heard cool distance in his voice. She’d touched a nerve.
‘How’s Phil?’ she asked, trying to move to safer ground.
‘He is going to be OK – but he lost some blood so it will be a couple of days. It was a bad fall.’
As she opened her mouth to ask what had happened out there, he spoke again.
‘You should have something warm to drink,’ he said. ‘Come with me. There’s hot chocolate in the kitchen.’
‘No.’ Allie’s response was more panicked than the situation called for and Sylvain raised one eyebrow in surprise as she fumbled for a reason. ‘I … There’s something I need to do. Let’s talk tomorrow? I have to …’
Her explanations fading, she dashed past him to the library. It was deserted – even the librarian’s desk was empty. Running across the soft rugs down to the stacks, Allie disappeared into the shadows between two tall bookcases.
Behind her she heard the door open and close again. He called her name twice, softly. After a minute, the door opened and closed again. To be safe, Allie stayed where she was a few minutes longer. When she’d heard nothing while counting slowly to two hundred, she stepped out of the stacks, opening the library door to peek out into the hall. Sylvain was nowhere in sight. She sighed with relief.
The great hall door swung open without a sound when she pushed it. The lights were off but she could see a faint glow at the far end of the vast, empty ballroom. She walked in that direction hesitantly.
‘Carter?’ she whispered.
A voice made a ghostly ‘woooo’ sound that echoed around her.
‘Cut it out, West.’
He chuckled.
As she neared the light, she saw that he was sprawled in a chair with his foot propped up on a table between a couple of lighted candles. His forehead was neatly bandaged. He was holding a book, which he now dropped lightly on the floor.
There was another chair next to him, and he gestured at it.
‘Sit.’
‘Don’t tell me what to do,’ she muttered, as she sat.
He smiled darkly. ‘Sorry, I thought I was being polite.’
She ignored that. ‘How’s your head?’
He waved the question away. ‘I’m fine.’
There was a moment of silence.
‘So, what’s up?’ Allie asked to break the stillness. ‘Why did you want to meet me here? In case you’re hoping, I don’t dance.’
He shrugged. ‘I like it here. I’m always here. They never check it, I don’t know why.’
Lifting his foot from the table, he turned to face her. ‘I just want to know how you and Blondie ended up in the summerhouse tonight right when everything went down. Gabe left you both safely in the common room on the verge of a girly conversation about … shoes or lipstick or whatever girls talk about. Fifteen minutes later, you’re at the summerhouse in the pouring rain tying bandages. How did that happen, Allie?’
She dodged his eyes. ‘Jo just wanted to look for …’
He cut her off. ‘Oh, give it a rest, Allie. I’m not Isabelle.’
Surprised by his vehemence, she fumbled for something to say. ‘I … uh … Well …’
He sat still, studying her.
The same instinctive worry that stopped her from telling Isabelle told her not to tell Carter either. But she had to find out what was going on around here, and if anybody would know, he would.
‘Ruth. She came and got us.’
In the candlelight, his eyes were fathomless. She stared into them for a long, silent moment looking for a reaction, but saw nothing.
When he spoke, his voice was cold. ‘What did she say?’
Allie crossed her arms across her torso, visualising Ruth standing in front of her, water streaming from her hair and dripping onto the floor. Fear on her face.
‘She said Phil and Gabe were hurt. And something weird. I think she said “It went wrong.”’
Carter came out of his chair so fast that later she couldn’t remember seeing him do it. Holding her by her shoulders he seemed to tower over her. Allie recoiled.
With his lips a few inches away from hers he spoke in a harsh whisper. ‘You must never tell anybody else what Ruth did. Swear it.’
Allie stared up at him, and her lips moved for a second before any sound came out.
‘Yeah, sure. OK, I won’t tell anyone. Jesus, Carter.’
As if he’d just realised what he was doing, he let her go.
‘You’re freaking me out,’ Allie said, rubbing her shoulder. ‘What is your malfunction?’
Trying to look casual, he leaned against a pillar.
‘Sorry. But Ruth shouldn’t have done that and people might be pissed off if they knew. I don’t want her to get in trouble, so you really can’t say anything.’
‘Hey,’ she said icily. ‘No worries, mate. And while we’re all about honesty maybe you could tell me what tonight’s performance was about? How did you all end up cut to pieces in the middle of the forest?’
Crossing his arms, he looked at her coldly. A long silence fell.
‘Well, thanks for the inquisition and the threats and everything. It’s been really great. But I should probably be going.’ Allie affected her most bored expression.
Carter stared at her as if there was something else he wanted to say. In fact, she could almost pinpoint the moment when he decided not to say it.
‘You make a good bandage,’ he said instead. ‘Where’d you learn to do that? Crimea?’
She thought about just getting up and walking out. But she stayed. She wasn’t sure why. Maybe curiosity.
‘London,’ she said. ‘First aid class. Girl Guides.’
He raised one sardonic eyebrow. ‘You were in the Girl Guides? No way.’
She couldn’t figure out why they were having this jovial conversation after he’d just gone all Hannibal Lecter on her but she decided to go along with it.
‘Yes way. I was a kid then but that stuff stays with you. Bandage-tying. Butterfly-catching. Jam-making. I can do it all.’
He barked a short laugh but Allie didn’t smile. ‘What’s really going on around here, Carter? I mean, what happened to you tonight? Did you guys get in a fight? It looked really bad.’
If he’d closed a door in her face it couldn’t have been more clear. His eyes went blank.
‘Just let it go,’ he snapped. ‘And don’t ask anybody else either. Nobody will tell you a thing and people will get angry if they know you’re asking.’ He looked at his watch. ‘It’s nearly eleven. We have to go.’
He blew out the candles and the room plunged into darkness.
As she walked towards where she thought the door might be Allie tripped over something in the darkness. Carter caught her. For just a second they stood face-to-face. Though he was wreathed in shadows, Allie thought he looked almost sorry.
But I’m probably wrong about that.
‘This way,’ he said, leading her by the hand through the dark room with the confidence of somebody who’d done it many times. His fingers felt warm and strong against hers, but she really didn’t want him touching her right now – she moved stiffly beside him.
By the time they emerged blinking into the lights of the empty hall his face was studiously expressionless.
‘It’s eleven, Sheridan. You should hurry. You don’t want detention again.’
‘Yeah, sure,’ she said sarcastically. ‘Blood and gore we can have. But Allie out after curfew? That would be a disaster.’
‘Good night, Sheridan,’ he said, firmly.
She turned for the stairs.
‘Whatever, Carter.’
‘You have to trust me, Allie.’
Carter’s eyes looked into hers intently but she resisted.
‘Why would I trust you? You don’t trust me.’
They were standing in the great hall. It was filled with lighted candles – they glittered on windowsills, table tops, and in hugely tall candelabra. The heat they gave off was intense.
Carter’s eyes glittered in the light. ‘But I can help you …’
Someone banged on the door loudly. Threateningly. Allie felt her heart pound.
‘They’re here,’ he said.
The banging came again, more insistent this time. The noise was almost deafening and Allie covered her ears.
‘Who is it? Who’s here, Carter?’
His voice was urgent. ‘You have to trust me. Do you trust me?’
Over his shoulder she could see the door was cracking under the strain of the pounding.
‘Yes!’ Allie cried, reaching out for him. ‘Yes! I trust you.’
Gasping, Allie sat up in bed clutching the duvet in tight fists.
A loud bang made her jump but it was only the wooden shutter thrown against the wall by a stiff breeze coming through the open window.
Climbing up on top of the desk to look out the window, she saw a storm had blown up during the night – the trees swayed, and leaves, freed from their branches, rode the wind high above her.
The air smelled fresh as she latched the window tightly into place and climbed back into bed.
Pulling the covers up she muttered aloud, ‘Get out of my head, Carter West.’