Elspeth watched from the clifftop as the waves rolled in, devouring the last strip of bridge that connected the island to the mainland. Her heart plummeted, and her skin prickled with fear as her last chance of escape disappeared with the tide.
Grey clouds rolled in, darkening the land around her, and gulls tumbled through the air, soaring low over the water. They taunted Elspeth with their freedom, reminding her that she was trapped.
Her knees buckled beneath her, and she fell to the ground. Elspeth looked out across the horizon, just making out the faint outline of land through the mist. Tears rolled down her face, and her body began to convulse with uncontrolled sobs.
The scream that tore from her throat was raw and full of despair.
She was the only one left. Everyone else - Toby, Zac, Georgia, Ruth - was gone. Dead.
Elspeth knew that, unless she was able to escape the island, by morning she would be dead too. It was only a matter of time before He found her.
It was hard to think that not only 3 hours before they had all been alive.
Images of her friends’ slain bodies flashed through her mind.
Toby had been the first; courageous and as rash as ever, he hadn’t hesitated to jump in front of the killer and attempt to fight him off, giving her and the others a chance to escape. He had been gutted like a fish with a single, well-placed swipe of a knife. Ruth quickly followed Toby, and then Georgia.
Zac had been the last to fall. Elspeth shuddered as she recalled the gurgling sounds of Zac choking on his own blood, throat slit from ear to ear. She had watched the light fade from his eyes, the ghost of his fear and shock lingering in his glassy stare. He had been dead before his body had even hit the ground…
And now she was here, on the edge of the island, with no way to escape. The hire car lay abandoned elsewhere, and only route back down to it would take her back the way she came… back to where her friends lay, back to Him.
Elspeth’s head shot up at the unmistakable sound of a stick breaking underfoot. There was something about it that sounded deliberate, as if He had wanted her to know that He had found her… that there was no chance of escape.
Dread pooled in her stomach, and bile cloyed up her throat. Rising from her knees on shaking legs, Elspeth turned towards the dense woodland.
From the brush He emerged, eyes wide and hungry with sadistic pleasure. His thin lips were pulled back into a sneer, his yellowed teeth bared.
Her gaze fell down to the serrated knife in his hand, which was slick with blood. She watched as a red bead slipped off the edge to the ground, blooming like a flower at the impact.
“Times up, my sweet.”
Elspeth ducked to her left as he came at her, knife swinging wildly. She hit the floor with a heavy thud, hands scraping along the rocky gravel. Another sob bubbled up her throat.
She made to push herself up, but was impeded by a hand wrapping itself around her ankle and dragging her backwards. Elspeth screamed, clawing at the ground, desperate to grab hold of something, only to pull up tufts of grass, weeds and dirt.
“No, please,” she begged, kicking out with her free leg. She made contact, and he released her ankle with a cry, the knife clattering to the ground as he massaged his injured wrist.
Elspeth scrambled to her feet, eyes darting left and right in the hopes of finding a means of escape. With the path back barred, there was only one option, one hope, one chance.
Down below the waves crashed against the rocks, while the gulls soared up above, their keen eyes watching the scene unfold.
Behind her Elspeth could hear the haggard breathing of her killer as he lurched towards her again. She ran towards the precipice, turning back as she twisted her body round and threw herself off the ledge.
In a moment as if time had frozen, their eyes met… before gravity played it’s part and pulled Elspeth into the tumultuous waters beneath.
You sit with bated breath, trying to quash the giddy mixture of fear and hope that writhes in your belly. Too many times you have been here before, eager and excited, only to have those feelings of elation dashed with the utterance of six words.
The time on the clock reads 10 past the hour. They’re running late. You should have been seen 20 minutes ago. You feel torn at this: On the one hand, you feel that this will just prolong the inevitable, while on the other hand it allows you to cling on to a reality that, as of yet, still hasn’t come to fruition.
You look around you, taking in the faces of others. Some, like you, are alone, while others have someone accompanying them. You wonder if they feel the same way you do, or if they’re in the throes of happiness, unable to contemplate the possibility of anything less than good news.
Heads shoot up as a door opens, and a friendly face pops out.
“Penny Wright?”
It makes a moment for you to recognise the sound of your own name. This is it. The moment you have been waiting for.
You rise from your chair, legs feeling weak beneath you. You shoot up a silent prayer to an entity that you’re not even sure you believe in.
“Hi Penny,” they say as you make your way over to them. “My name’s Claire, please do come in.”
You walk in behind her, and sit on the bed that she gestures you too. Her assistant stands in the corner.
“This is Amy,” she explains. You shoot her a strained smile.
You barely hear Claire as you go through your history. Your answers are automatic, having had to give them many a time before.
You’re given a couple of minutes to strip down to your pants and lie down on the bed. You call out that you’re ready and both Amy and Claire re-enter the room.
Your hands are shaking, and you feel sick.
Lifting your top up, Claire squirts a blob of gel onto your stomach. You take in a sharp breath. It’s cool to the touch, and your skin breaks up into goosebumps.
The probe begins to make it’s way over your belly, and you watch Claire as she focuses on the screen. Her brow is furrowed.
You watch as she narrows her eyes, and bites her lip as if she is trying to focus on something.
The fear that has been writhing in the pit of your belly pierces through you like ice, and your skin goes cold. You can feel beads of sweat forming on your forehead.
You want to ask if everything is okay, but the words are lodged in your throat…
But then you see Claire relax, a small smile playing at her lips. “There,” she says, turning the screen towards you and pressing a few buttons.
And then you hear it, a sound that you had never thought to hear.
A heartbeat.
Ruby’s joyous laughter rang through the park, green eyes bright with happiness. She pumped her legs vigorously, desperate to go higher with each stroke of the swing.
“Look Mum, look,” she cried. “I’m going to touch the sky!”
Ali watched, a smile playing on her face, as her daughter played. “So I can see,” she said, opening up the camera on her phone to capture the moment.
High above birds soared in the sky; it was a beautiful day with no clouds in sight, and the sun beamed down upon them. Ali sighed, momentarily closing her eyes to enjoy the sun’s warm kiss on her face.
The squeaking of the gate signalled a newcomer to the park. Ali opened her eyes and looked over to see a man walking towards her, his dark blonde hair gleaming in the sunlight.
Ali felt her lips pull back into a smile. “Fancy seeing you here, eh?”
The man shrugged and returned her grin. “I heard there was a pretty lady sitting in the park,” he replied.
Ali’s cheeks flushed pink at the compliment, and biting her lip she looked away back towards Ruby, who was watching them from the swing.
The man sat down beside her, reached over and took her hand, giving it a gentle squeeze.
“You okay?” he asked.
Ali, still focused on Ruby, sighed, nodded. “Yeah,” she said. “Just a bit nervous, I guess. Today’s a big step for me, Dan, a big step for us.” She gestured her head slightly towards Ruby.
“It’s a big day for me too.”
Ruby had slowed her swing now, her curious gaze still fixed on her mother and the strange man sitting next to her. Ali could just about make the slight frown at her brow.
“Ready then?”
Dan nodded, and taking a deep breath Ali called her daughter over.
Ruby approached them with apprehension, though her body visibly relaxed at her mum’s encouraging smile.
“It’s okay, Rubes,” Ali placated, holding out her hand and drawing her close. “Mummy just wants you to meet her - er - friend. You know, the one I talked about. This is Daniel.”
“Hi Ruby.”
Ruby glanced at Dan, who was smiling at her with a slight wave, before burying herself into the crook of her mother’s arm.
She peeped up at him shyly. “Hello,” she whispered, before turning her head away again.
Ali pressed a kiss on her daughter’s auburn hair, running a comforting hand across her back as she did.
“Come on, sweetie,” she reassured. “There’s no need to be shy.” Ruby snuggled in even more.
Ali glanced over at Dan. Maybe this hadn’t been a good idea.
“I’ve heard a lot of great things about you, Ruby,” Dan said, his tone kind and brown eyes patient. “It’s great to finally meet you!”
Ruby shot him a small smile.
“I saw you the swings,” Dan continued, encouraged by Ruby’s growing confidence. “You looked like you were going really high! I don’t think I could ever swing like that.”
“They’re my favourite,” Ruby explained, shooting him a toothy grin.
“They were my favourite too when I was your age.”
Ali could sense that Ruby, while still hesitant, was starting to come round, and this allowed her to relax.
“Shall we perhaps go for a walk?” She suggested. “Maybe even grab a coffee?”
“That sounds like a great idea,” Dan agreed. “What do you think Ruby? We can get you an ice cream too!”
Ruby’s green eyes immediately lit up, and she nodded her head eagerly. Ali shot Dan an exasperated look over Ruby’s head, to which he just shot her a grin and shrugged.
“Just this once,” Ali conceded as she guided Ruby out of the park. “Call it Dan’s treat.”
“Thank you, Dan,” Ruby said, as she skipped on ahead.
Ali watched Ruby go, before catching Dan’s eye.
“So bribery and corruption is how you plan to win Ruby over then?” she grinned, shaking her head.
“Of course,” Dan replied, sneaking a quick kiss, a wolfish smile playing around his mouth. “If she’s anything like you, it’ll work a treat.”
“I’m sorry that it’s not better news.”
It’s as if the breath has been knocked out of me. My ears ring.
I stare at the doctor blindly. His lips move, forming words that my brain refuses to process.
This cannot be happening.
I feel a slight pressure on my hand, and turn my head to the right. My wife stares at me. Her lips are pulled back in a watery grimace, and I can see the pain and fear in her eyes. A tear slides down her cheek.
Cancer.
The one word we all dread to hear.
A lump sits in my throat, heavy and cloying. I try to swallow it away without success.
“We need to listen, George. To find out what happens next.”
My wife’s words reach me as if from far away. I jerk my head in acknowledgement, and slowly turn back to the consultant. His hands are steepled together, his face a picture of sympathy.
I force myself to pay attention as he explains the severity of the tumour, the best course of treatment to follow, and the current chance of survival.
The prognosis he paints is bleak, each word a knife to my heart.
Besides me, my wife listens attentively. She appears to take everything in, asking the odd question when necessary.
A small ember of awe flickers deep within me. Once again I am amazed by her strength and temerity. Despite what she is about to endure, she is prepared to face it head on, no matter the outcome.
A slither of guilt pools in my stomach as I silently reflect on my own reaction. I should be the one carrying her right now, not the other way round.
This is not about me.
Everything rushes back to me, and I finally find myself present within the room. I return my wife’s earlier squeeze, my grip firm. Her thumb brushes over mine, message received and acknowledged.
Whatever my wife is about to face, she will not be alone. For better or for worse, in sickness and in health, we will get through this.
Together.
“He’s gone, Your Grace.”
The words lingered heavy in the air.
“What?”
With a shuddering breath, Ludo repeated the message.
“Chastin has gone, Your Grace,” he breathed out in a rush. “Last seen in the early hours of this morning, preparing a horse. We have reason to believe he was heading towards Medica. He’s gone to the girl.”
Queen Briseis burned with uncontrolled rage, green eyes wild and bright with anger. Her gaze roved over the myriad of faces staring up at her, watching with bated breath, their expressions a mixture of awe, curiosity and fear. She clenched her hands into fists, nails digging deep into her palms and drawing blood.
“Leave us,” she hissed, beckoning to her guards to clear the hall. “I wish to speak with my advisors alone.”
She waited for the chamber to clear, the frown marring her head growing deeper. The great oak doors closed with a resounding thud, echoing through the silent hall.
Now alone with her advisors, the Queen leapt to her feet, robes billowing behind her as she marched up to Ludo. He swallowed as she approached, but stood his ground.
“How did this happen?” she demanded. “I thought I had made myself clear: No one allowed in or out of the castle unless by my decree.”
Ludo glanced down at the Queen’s hands, where a faint light was emanating from her fingertips. He looked to his left, catching sight of Borislav and Ines, who were determinedly avoiding his gaze, and instead watching the Queen with weary eyes. They too had noticed the powerful magic starting to emanate off of her in waves.
“I believe the guards who let Chastin through thought that he may be an exception,” he replied. “Clearly they were mistaken. Rest assured, Your Grace,” Ludo continued hastily as Briseis’ face twisted into an ugly purple colour, “Lord Borislav has seen to it that they will be most severely punished.”
Borislav flinched as the Queen turned her gaze on him, his rotund belly bouncing. “They will rue their mistake, my Lady,” he said, as she towered over him. “I will see to their penance personally.”
“Make sure you do, Borislav. I want to hear their screams ringing through this castle as they are Purged.”
“Purged, my Lady?” Borislav looked aghast. “You wish me to strip them of their powers?”
“Yes,” she hissed. “They have shamed the House of Infernum, they have shamed their Queen. They do not deserve the honour of our House.”
“But - but Your Grace —“
“Purge them, Borislav,” she ordered, tone final, “or I will Purge you.”
The advisor paled at the Queen’s threat. Unable to get any words out, he nodded and bowed low in acquiescence.
“That’s - that’s not all, Your Grace,” Ludo stammered, cowering as Briseis turned and narrowed her eyes towards him again, lips pursed into a thin line. “He managed to take something as well.”
Briseis’ flesh broke out into a cold sweat, a lump forming in her throat. She closed her eyes and let out a rattling breath.
“What was it?” she hissed, dread roiling in her stomach. “What did Chastin take?”
The silence stretched as Ludo hesitated, well aware of what was about to unfold.
“The Codex,” Ludo finally breathed, bracing himself. “He took the Codex.”
A dark shadow swept across the hall, the temperature dropping as the Queen’s fury nucleated, ready to explode.
Her scream of rage rang through the castle, shattering the windows. Ludo ducked just in time as Briseis’ hands flew wild, sending a streaming ball of fire over his head, which exploded against a marble pillar and crumbled into dust with a shuddering thud.
“Hunt down the traitor,” the Queen spat, spittle flying everywhere, chest heaving. “and bring them back to me alive. I want to deal with my son myself.”
Whispers that come in the night Often carry further than those in the day; Alone, in the dark, eyes wide Those haunting thoughts can’t be pushed away.
They run circles in your head, Louder and louder they continue to grow, No longer able to distract yourself The taunting will just not go.
Tossing and turning, you twist restlessly Wishing for mind-numbing sleep, But instead you fixate on countless lies, Which keep you awake and make you weep.
You allow the ghosts of your past to consume you, Unable to fight them anymore. So you surrender your mind for another night, Desperately waiting for dawn.
The key turns in the lock, and the door opens. Our eyes meet.
For a few seconds we stare at each other; his face a picture of disbelief, while my own is one of amusement.
This is going to be fun.
His eyes travel down to the gun in my hand, which is aimed directly at his heart. I look pointedly from the gun to the door, my message clear. He closes it.
“How did you get in here?” he stammers, a slick sheen of sweat spreading across his forehead. “How did you get past security?”
I smile, shrug. “I couldn’t possibly tell you…”
My gun still trained on him, I rise to my feet and begin to walk around the room. His beady eyes follow my every movement, and his hands twitch restlessly by his side.
“Sit.”
I point to the chair that I have just vacated. He obeys without hesitation.
“Who - who are you?”
I secretly applaud his attempt at confidence and bravery. Not many men would dare challenge me when facing the end of a barrel.
The seconds and silence stretch on as I refuse to answer him. My heart is beating erratically, revelling in his palpable discomfort. I smile at him coquettishly.
“I don’t think that’s really important, Derek,” I whisper, bracing my hands on either side of the chair’s arms, leaning over into his face.
He flinches. Whether this is from my proximity or the use of his name, I don’t know. Perhaps it’s both.
A thrill of satisfaction runs through me. This is just too easy.
“I’m sorry that we’ve had to meet like this,” I continue, pulling away, deliberately stepping on his toes with the heel of my boot. Hard. “Another time, another place, who knows, we could have had something magical.”
I continue to grind down on his foot through his shoe. Derek bites down on his lip, eyes watering. I press down harder, determined to hear him whimper, determined to hear him suffer. He continues to resist.
I lift my foot up, and he gasps in relief. Before he has time to recover though, I slam my heel down again feeling more than hearing the snap of bone.
Derek opens his mouth to scream, but I quickly silence him with a heavy blow to his stomach, winding him.
“Sorry,” I whisper in his ear as he heaves, desperate to catch his breath. “I slipped.”
The head butt catches me unawares, and I reel backwards as I hear the unmistakable crunch of my nose breaking. Warm blood drips down my chin.
Bastard.
In the few seconds it has taken for me to focus, my captive has tried to launch himself at the door. I lunge for him, dragging him to the ground with a heavy thud, and smashing his head into the floor.
“Nice try, Derek,” I hiss, pulling him back up and flinging him across the room.
I am no longer amused. It is time to end this, once and for all.
Derek lies spread eagled on the floor, chest heaving, trying to push himself back up. Blood pours from his mouth, which he spits out at my feet.
I leer over him, face twisted up in a snarl. Without further ado, I lift the gun to his head and draw back the safety catch.
“Walter Livingstone sends his regards.”
I pull the trigger.
“Where have you been?”
I silently curse as the lights flicker on. Cecile stands in our living room doorway, arms folded and brow raised, an expectant look on her face.
I stare back at her nonplussed, my mind churning for a believable excuse. I have broken out into a sweat, my neck and palms clammy.
“Well?” Cecile continues, tilting her head to one side. “It’s 3 in the morning, for God’s sake. I’m waiting, John.”
I swallow, tongue darting out to wet my dry lips. I’m at battle with myself, torn between the only two options I have in my arsenal: to either lie, and risk losing the woman I love, or tell the truth… and also risk losing the woman I love. Not exactly a winning situation.
I let out a deep sigh, shoulders sagging.
“Okay,” I say, as I gesture for Cecile to make her way into the living room and sit down. “I’ll tell you.”
Cecile’s scepticism is evident by the twitch of her lips, but she obliges and goes to sit on the sofa. I follow and stand in front of her by the mantle piece.
I have been waiting for this moment, when I would have to reveal all. Admittedly, not quite like this… but beggars can’t be choosers, I guess. Some may say I deserve it, having kept this from Cecile for far longer than I should have. There were times when it came close, but then the moment would be gone, and I would convince myself that the timing just wasn’t quite right...
But what moment would ever be right, one could argue. It’s not every day someone has to tell another person that they’re… unique.
“John?” Her voice cuts through my mind like a knife.
Time’s up. It’s now or never.
“I was working,” I tell her, voice keen with honesty. It’s not technically a lie.
Cecile opens her mouth in indignation and I quickly hurry on.
“Please, just listen,” I ask of her. “Once I’m done, you can say or do anything you want. Just - just let me explain.”
Cecile remains silent, the only sign that tells me she is willing to comply. My stomach writhes, and I inwardly berate myself.
I have faced far worse things than this, and yet here I am more terrified than I have ever been in my life.
“This isn’t easy for me,” I tell her, knowing that I’m stalling. “Even I don’t know where to start.”
Words are failing me. If I don’t come out with it soon, I know Cecile will walk.
“Perhaps it would be better if I show you.”
“Show me?” Cecile echoes, and I note the rigidity of her shoulders. I’m beginning to scare her. “How?”
I don’t reply, but instead take a couple of deep breaths before holding out my arm, hand curled tightly in a fist. Cecile watches me with weary eyes.
Slowly I open up my palm, concentrating on the small bead of light that hovers just above my hand. With a slight flex of my fingers the bundle begins to grow, casting the room in a pearlescent light.
I bring my other arm up, curving my hand around the growing sphere. I can feel its power surge through me, and I close my eyes in a heady bliss as I enjoy the thrumming waves of energy pulse through my body.
I resist the pull to fully transform, and slowly bring myself round as I absorb the light back into me. A small sigh escapes me, and I open my eyes to look at Cecile. She stares back at me, eyes wide and mouth dropped open.
“I’m the Omega,” I explain with a shrug, as if it were really that simple, “and tonight I snuck out to Budapest in an attempt to stop the Hungarian government from being infiltrated by aliens.”
If possible, Cecile’s mouth falls open even further.
“It worked, by the way,” I continue, not being able to hide how proud I am at having succeeded. “The people of Hungary are now safe once again. So, you see, I really was working.”
Cecile is still looking up at me in shock, unable to take in what I have just shown her. The swell of pride I had felt moments before deflates quicker than a popped balloon.
“Cee,” I begin, sitting down next to her and taking her hand. It rests limply in mine. “Please say something.”
Still nothing. Cecile appears to be in a state of complete petrification.
I hesitate unsure of how to proceed. It’s going better, thus far, than even I had anticipated. Most of the time, when I had dared think about this moment, it finished with Cecile running as far away from me as possible. Admittedly, this is still a possibility, but the fact that her hand still lies in mine (albeit loosely), gives me a small glimmer of hope.
I bring her hand up to my lips and chastely kiss it. Her eyes flicker to mine.
“You - you’re - what?”
I push down the urge to laugh at Cecile’s disbelief, her face a picture of puzzlement. I’m well aware of how quickly her temperament can change.
“I’m the Omega,” I reply. “I’m a superhero.”
“Right,” the breath she lets out is shaky, “of course you are.”
I feel her fingers curl round mine and squeeze gently. My heart soars at this gesture. Perhaps - just perhaps - she’ll be able to accept this. Accept me.
“I know it’s a lot to take in,” I whisper, “and I’m sorry that I haven’t told you before. I wanted too, y’know, but I was scared. I didn’t know how you’d react. I can appreciate that it’s a lot to take in.”
Cecile lets out a hesitant laugh. “You could say that.”
“Will you give me a chance to explain?” I ask, hoping she will give me an opportunity to finally tell it all.
She lets out another shaky breath. “I have a lot of questions, John. And I’ll need you to be honest with me when answering them.”
“That doesn’t surprise me,” I say, relief washing through me. “I wouldn’t expect anything less. Where do you want me to start?”
Hand still in mine, Cecile relaxes against the back of the sofa. There are still elements of shock on her face, but these are slowly waning as her features become more alive with curiosity.
Our eyes meet.
“Perhaps you should start at the beginning.”
“I think I just met the happiest person in the world!”
Isabella‘s voice was eager with excitement, her blue eyes bright as she skipped along the pavement, swinging her arms in wild abandonment.
Alice looked down at her daughter and smiled.
“Did you?” she gasped, as Isabella nodded fervently. “Why do you think that?”
“Because they were laughing, Mummy,” Isabella replied, “and they couldn’t stop. That must mean they’re really happy!”
Alice made a mew of agreement, entranced into wordlessness by her daughter’s vivacity. Nothing ever seemed to get her down.
They continued to walk, now hand in hand, along the street. Isabella hummed to herself, not caring if the tune made sense or not. Every now and then she would do a small hop and gallop, as if she were lost in her own little game, oblivious to her mother’s gentle gaze.
Alice’s heart ached as she drank in the picture, trying to store as much of this memory into her mind as possible. It was these sorts of moments - small, inconsequential - that she wanted to remember.
Isabella stopped humming, finally feeling her mother’s eyes upon her. She giggled, mouth wide in a toothy grin.
“Mummy,” she began slowly, drawing out the name, “can I ask you something?”
Alice felt her own smile tugging at her lips. “Of course you can, Darling. What is it?”
Isabella’s blue eyes were ripe with curiosity as she asked, “When I’m older, do you think that I’ll be that happy?”
Alice felt her smile falter slightly, and her heart lurch. It took everything she had to carry on walking. Oblivious to her mother’s sudden change in demeanour, Isabella continued to look up at Alice with anticipation.
“I hope so, sweetheart,” Alice replied, swallowing back the lump in her throat. She took in her daughter’s pale, clammy skin and the wispy clumps of hair that still clung to her head. “I really hope so.”
