Darkhaven

Stephen didn’t want me to go home yet, preferring to get started with my training immediately, but I insisted. I felt like all the energy I’d woken up with had drained away through the soles of my feet, and I wanted nothing more than to curl up in the comfort of my bed. I explained that Dad worked in national security, or something like that, and home was probably the safest place for me next to Darkhaven. Stephen relented, driving me back as the grey clouds pushed the afternoon into an early twilight.

My phone buzzed as I pulled it out of the black pouch: Zenna.

I failed.

I felt bad for her and knew she would probably appreciate company, but I didn’t have the energy to visit. Her parents were okay, if a little odd. It was her grandmother. She lived with the family, and Zenna came to school in a sour mood at least once a week because of something the old harpy had said or done. I hadn’t visited in nearly a year, since she told me I was overweight one Friday evening and actually threw away our entire weekend supply of ice cream. I sent Zenna a sympathetic reply and promised hugs on Monday.

There were no lights on at home, but Dad’s car was in the driveway when we pulled up. Stephen advised me to stay home and indoors for the rest of the weekend, which sounded just fine to me, and to go to the eastern gate of the school grounds when my classes finished on Monday. I saved his number in my phone.

The house felt still when I stepped inside, missing the usual commotion that was Dad at home – making coffee, cooking something over-the-top for dinner, playing Mozart while he worked in his office. The hairs on my arms prickled and my still-raw nerves set themselves on edge. Red fear bloomed in the bottom of my stomach as I closed the front door. Then I shook myself. Dad must be home, maybe on a confidential call or something, and I was just overreacting after a stressful day. That was all. I strolled down the hallway, trying to trick myself into feeling casual.

The lights were off in the open-plan kitchen/living room. Dad sat at the dining table in the semi-dark, turning a pen in his fingers, with the air of someone who’d waited while the afternoon wore away and the light faded. Of course: the accident outside the Shack. He would have been worried. And he had been expecting me home hours ago. I rushed towards the table. ‘Oh my god, Dad, I’m so sorry, there was an accident at the Shack, I’m fine, just Ceel and I went for a walk on the beach. I should have called, I didn’t think.’

Dad didn’t respond. His face was grave. I stopped and took in the rest of the shadowy room. Two hefty men in suits stood in the kitchen. Another man, also in a suit but looking less like a security guard, stepped forward from my left. Some bizarre, detached part of my brain wondered if he’d actually been hiding behind the bookcase for dramatic effect.

‘Miss Whitehall,’ he said. His voice was soft and warm, and it hit my nervous system like a trip-switch pinging.

I backed up a few steps. ‘Who are you?’

He smiled. I’d never really understood the term “crocodile grin” until now, but this guy with his slicked-back hair had it. All teeth and wiles. ‘My name is Sean. I am here to help you. I understand you’ve recently had an unusual experience.’

I bristled and turned away from the man. ‘Dad, what’s happening?’

Dad said nothing, just stared past me while he flipped the pen over and under, over and under.

Sean came closer. ‘Tell me about Darkhaven.’

My muscles turned cold and my skin went clammy. How could he possibly know about Darkhaven, unless … I shook my head and pressed my lips together, fighting off the urge to turn and sprint from the room. The suits behind me looked too much like the men who had nabbed me in the park. It had to be the Taskforce. I shot Dad a quizzical glance.

Dad lifted his deep brown eyes to my face. ‘Those people are terrorists. Whatever they’ve told you is a lie.’

I hated the twinge of fear that shivered through me at the word. Stephen had tried to help me. He was the only one who’d told me the truth, or had at least tried. I gazed at Dad, trying to divine what he knew, whether Sean and his goons had pretended to be legit, above-board government agents and got Dad on side, or whether Dad actually worked for these people and knew more about Netica than I’d thought. My intuition leaned on the latter, but it didn’t help much.

Sean drew a dining chair out and gestured me towards it. ‘Please, Gabby. We want to protect you.’

The need to run pressed into my skin. ‘Cool. You do that. I’m going to bed now.’ I turned back to the hallway. I’d grab my bag and go, via the window, to Cecelia’s. Or maybe Zenna’s; they were less likely to look for me there.

I made it about three steps. With a starchy rustle of clothing, the two security guards grabbed me.

I thrashed. ‘Let go of me!’

One pinned my arms behind my back with hands like manacles while the other reached into his pocket and pulled out a syringe. I eyed the needle as he uncapped it, straining and kicking against my captor. All I managed was to twist around enough that I was facing Sean and my dad at the table again.

Sean nodded at the suits. ‘Bring her in.’

The suit with the needle stepped closer.

‘Dad!’ I yelled.

The suit paused. Dad met my eyes for a moment, face hard in the gathering darkness, then fixed his gaze on Sean. ‘It doesn’t have to be like this,’ he said.

A look passed between them that I couldn’t read, Sean’s eyes sparking with defiance. He sauntered up to me, stopping a few inches from my face. ‘It’s up to you, Miss Whitehall. Are you going to cooperate?’

Some small voice of logical self-preservation bleated that I should at least play along, but I couldn’t help it. My blood squirmed in my veins when I looked at him. ‘Not with you,’ I muttered.

I felt the jab of a needle in my neck and everything went black.

***

I woke, shivering, with my face stuck to a cold, hard surface. I sat up and looked around, but there wasn’t much to see. I was sitting at a bare desk in a tiny room with no windows and one door. It was locked, for sure, but it would be silly to sit here having not even tried it, so I dragged my heavy body over and rattled the handle. Locked.

I dropped back onto the chair and rubbed my arms to warm my skin. Keys jingled outside and with another rattle of the handle, the door opened. A tall, slim woman with vibrant red hair and green eyes that matched her crisp business shirt dropped a bundle of keys on the table, right next to my hand.

She stood opposite me and leaned against the wall, the pewter of her suit like a shadow on the tiled background. ‘You dye your hair,’ she observed.

I stared at her. I had no idea how interrogations normally went, but that seemed like an odd start.

‘I find red hair gives me power,’ she continued, ‘but maybe some people just can’t handle it.’

I’d touched up my roots just over a week ago. How did she even know my natural colour was red?

‘What do you want?’ My throat felt like one of Perth’s beaches and the words rasped over the sandpaper tissue like a hot wind.

‘You don’t beat around the bush though. I’d say you get that from your mother.’

I didn’t respond. Where was I? What was so important and secret that Dad would just sit and watch while I was knocked out and brought in by some jerkhead and his muscle? My veins bristled with angry fire despite the chill of the room. Not even an explanation. Just a needle in the neck. I couldn’t imagine that this was legal, but I’d come across so many things that were outside the law lately nothing was surprising to me. Except Dad.

The woman leaned over the table to peer at my face. Her nails were short but manicured and painted light green, matching the shirt under her jacket. She had a straight nose, a mole on her right cheek and perfect teeth. My fingers tapped the edge of my chair. I willed them to stillness.

‘I want you to tell me about Darkhaven,’ she said.

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

The woman stood and paced in front of the desk, heels clicking on the floor. ‘What do you know about Stephen May?’

‘I don’t know anything about him.’ Which was true. I could pick him out of a line-up, but I had a hunch that a physical description was not what she was really after. I could tell her he was gentle and serious and had an air of lingering sadness about him, but I couldn’t imagine why she’d care about any of that either.

’We know you were struck by lightning. We know you met May, and Esmerelda Donovan. You know about the Praegressus program, and you know where they are.′

I shrugged, keeping my arms crossed tightly in front of me. She sighed, stopped pacing and leaned in again, even closer, her breath hot on my face. Her hard voice was so low that even with my newly enhanced hearing, it was barely audible. ‘You probably think I’m government. But I am way more than the government. I am not bound by their rules. Now’ – her knuckles whitened as she flattened her long, elegant fingers on the desk – ‘tell me what you know about Darkhaven.’

I remembered the intended amnesia, designed for my protection. Or Darkhaven’s, more like. It made more sense now. I shook my head and changed tack. With such a dry throat, a husky sincerity wasn’t too difficult to muster.

‘I’m sorry, I wish I could help you. But I don’t know what happened. I went for a walk. I remember climbing up the jungle gym, and the next thing I woke up in hospital. My dad picked me up.’ I blinked at her.

Her left eyebrow twitched. She turned away, her shoulders dropping in defeat. I relaxed by about point-one per cent. Then she whirled back, grabbed my hair and wrenched my face up to an inch from hers. My eyes watered and I yelped as my scalp pulled.

‘Liar! Tell me what you know!’

Without even thinking, I shouted back. ‘I don’t know anything! Something happened, and I don’t remember what!’ Spittle flew at her face and landed on her nose. Her nostrils flared. I didn’t back down. Instead, on a raging autopilot, I swung my left arm back, folded my fingers into a fist and snapped my arm forward. I was surprised by the speed. I was even more surprised by the crunch of bones as her nose crumbled under my punch, then I reeled with the stabbing pain as my own bones cracked. Blood from her nose splattered onto my face, and I pulled my hand to my body, curling it protectively into my chest. It throbbed. I’d only ever punched someone once before – a skinny boy called Dylan Rickshaw, when he asked me if I wanted to go out with him for the fifth time in a fortnight. My movements then had been way slower, and all I’d gotten for my trouble was bruised knuckles.

The woman let go of my hair, muttering under her breath. My hair tangled in her fingers, and as she shook her hand free, I noticed little sparks of red-gold light flashing between her fingertips. It was subtle; if I hadn’t been looking directly at her hand, I might have missed it. She caught me staring and folded her arms behind her back.

‘What was that?’ I asked.

She turned away and opened the door. A security guard was waiting on the other side, hat pulled low over his face. I thought I saw the corners of his mouth twitch into a smile.

‘Take her to the holding cells. Tell Sean this one is his to sort out.’ The woman’s muffled voice was like an iceberg in still water. She strode away, boot heels clacking. The man ducked into the room, peered back down the hall, then closed the door.

‘You can do whatever you like, I have nothing more to say to you people,’ I said stubbornly. Perhaps not the best move, but I was pissed. The man perched on the edge of the desk and pulled his cap off a familiar shock of jet-black hair. Sunglasses gone, his light brown eyes met mine for the first time.

I opened my mouth, but Keraun pressed a finger over his own lips, motioning for silence. He pulled me to my feet, jammed his cap back on, pinned my arms behind my back with strong hands and pushed me out the door. My mind must have still been fuzzy from the drug, because time passed in strange jumps: one moment he was marching us down the wide hallway; the next we were staggering up endless concrete stairs.

We went up one flight, then another. By the fifth, my legs became about as useful as strawberry mousse, at which point he scooped me into his arms and, with surprising ease for such a slight figure, carried me up the rest of the stairs and out – had there been another door? I missed it – into a sweeping, white-tiled foyer, glancing about as he raced us across the floor. In a blinding flash, a panel of glass next to the door shattered. Alarms squealed, piercing my brain through my overactive eardrums. Still carrying me, he leapt through the glass, bundled me into a car and then, with a fairly pathetic screech of tyres, we disappeared into the night.

***

After about four blocks, my ears recovered from the shock and my heart rate dropped down to the realm of merely rapid.

‘Who are you?’ My voice was dry.

Keraun reached onto the backseat and retrieved a bottle of water. I took a grateful sip.

‘I told you,’ he replied. Way too innocently.

‘You gave me a name. But you show up at my school. Then at Darkhaven, and you know my full name and about the antiserum. You just appeared at the beach on Saturday. And now you break me out of a secret government facility. Don’t play dumb. I saw all the security cameras. How did you get in? Who are you working for? Did you leave the note?’

Keraun kept his eyes on the road. ‘I didn’t leave any notes.’

‘And the rest?’

‘You wouldn’t believe me.’

I scoffed. ‘Maybe not last week. Try me.’

He gave me a curious glance. His hand tightened on the steering wheel. ‘God.’

Just that, deadpan.

‘Yeah right. Thanks for uh, well, are you rescuing me? Or was I better off with the other guys?’

He gave a short laugh. ‘You’re better off with me. I’m God.’

I was not in the mood. ‘God. Right. Pull over.’

He didn’t slow down. We closed in on the car in front. ‘What?’

‘You’re delusional. I’m getting out.’ I put my hand on the door handle and checked the speedometer. Sixty-five kilometres an hour. I’d probably survive, if I rolled properly. Check that – I would definitely survive, and this was one of those moments where I shouldn’t draw attention to myself. But Stephen’s warnings hadn’t included possible abductions. I cracked the door open. Alarmed, Keraun reached across and pulled it shut.

’Okay, I’m not God. I’m the God of Lightning.′

‘That’s worse! Let me out.’

‘Well, I did say you wouldn’t buy it,’ he said. We were tailgating the car now, which was doing all of fifty. I’d have been annoyed about it if I were in one of my driving lessons and not stuck in a moving vehicle with a complete maniac. There was a grassy shoulder coming up. Now might be my only chance to escape, while he was consumed with road rage.

‘I’m Keraun, God of Lightning. Actually, all weather, but – for Husa’s sake, get out of the way!’ The car had indicated then not taken the turning lane, slowing to forty-five. Next thing, there was a thunderous crash and a white bolt shot down on the car, sending it off the road onto the soft shoulder.

I looked across at Keraun and completely forgot about escape. His eyes. They were yellow. Not just a little bit, not just the irises, but the whole eyeballs were yellow, and glowing, so it was hard to see the edges of his eyelids. I took a moment to process what I’d just witnessed.

‘Did you just…?’

Keraun tried, and failed, to hide his smugness. His lips pressed together in concentration and another bolt, this time just across the sky, lit up the street ahead, while his eyes flashed brighter. He winked at me, the glow in his eyes fading, returning them to a mostly normal human brown. That explained the sunglasses in the rain, then. I wondered if there would be a point where my head would actually explode.

‘Don’t worry, they’re fine. Although their car might have some electrical problems now.’

I had so many questions, I couldn’t pick one out from the jumble. I was miffed that he had been so familiar, so casual, when he was literally some sort of god. Like he should have disclosed who and what he was at the start. ‘A God of Lightning would drive a better car.’

Keraun surveyed the interior. ‘What, is this not any good?’

I poked at the gear knob. The cap flew off and disappeared into the foot well.

‘Oh.’ He frowned. ‘Eftychi said it was good. I suppose she owed me one, I made it rain on her birthday party.’

I didn’t want to know who Eftychi was. I went to wind down the window and realised that my left hand – the one I’d just punched my interrogator with – didn’t hurt any more. I flexed and stretched the fingers. It was perfectly healed.

Keraun glanced across. ‘I didn’t have time,’ he said cautiously, ‘to fix the antiserum.’

I folded my arms against my welling rage – surely he could have let me know, if he was a god – and stared straight ahead. ‘I figured.’

‘I did try. It’s not really how my power works. So I went to get help, but I ran out of time.’

It was such an inadequate explanation, I considered punching the stupid god’s face with my newfound strength. I knew it wasn’t his fault. He’d explained what might happen, and I’d made my choice. But I was angry at Dad and bristling about the woman’s rough interrogation. My senses were turning me inside out, and I still wasn’t clear of Stephen’s ultimatum. I didn’t want to say goodbye to everyone at the end of the year. I wanted something, anything, to make sense. I wanted to move. The cabin of the car closed in on me, too small and too loud, and the low volume of chatter on the radio wormed into my ears as I clenched every muscle in my body. I couldn’t hold it in.

‘Argh!’ I punched the dashboard instead, instantly regretting it as my hand smarted.

Keraun stared resolutely at the road. To my ongoing rage, his lips twitched, like this was all some big joke. Maybe it was. I must be a pawn to the likes of him.

‘Shut up,’ I growled, turning off the radio.

His mouth gave in to a grin.

I wanted to squash him. He turned to look at me, but I avoided his gaze. I didn’t bother asking how he could drive without watching where he was going.

‘I’m sorry I didn’t come back. If it’s any consolation, I spent the next four days after I tried in bed. Lightning god power isn’t meant to mess with biology stuff.’

‘Good.’ I glared out the window, although my rage started to fade. ‘Why are you following me?’

He hesitated for a heartbeat too long. ‘Just making sure you’re okay. After I stuffed up the antiserum.’

Okay. It was such a tiny word. Despite my ebbing anger, I was glad he’d been around. ‘Thanks for helping me out back there.’

‘Anything I can do.’ His tone had lost all its levity.

I looked over. We stared into each other’s eyes for a long moment, vying for something. Trying to figure out who the other really was. I didn’t want to believe he existed, in case it still all turned out to be a joke. I wanted to know the real reason he was following me around. He looked at me like I was a puzzle to solve, his eyes still tinged with fire.

Keraun broke away.

We were on the freeway now, approaching the West Beach exit. ‘Can you take me to my uncle’s, please?’ I asked. ‘In the city.’

He nodded. I told him the address, in case his god-brain didn’t already know.

We pulled up outside Alex’s apartment building. I told Keraun to wait for me and raced up the stairs, calling Cecelia as I went. I must have been out of it in that woman’s cell for hours. It was two in the morning, but Cecelia was a light sleeper. After three rings, she answered.

‘What’s wrong?’

‘Can I come over?’

‘It’s two a.m. Can it wait until morning?’

I hesitated. ‘It’s a Sunday incident.’ The “Sunday incident” referred to two previous occasions. The first one had been mine. It had been Sunday evening, the night before Dad was going on his first long stint away. I was seven and he was leaving me to live with Alex for three months. I loved Alex, and I’d stayed with him plenty of times before for a week or so, but I stamped my foot, yelled that I hated Uncle Alex and took off into the night. I pedalled my bicycle all the way to Cecelia’s house, where I ran crying to my best friend’s room. Nancy had called Dad and he’d come over and slept on the couch so he could see me in the morning before he left.

A few years later, on another Sunday night, Cecelia had gone through a pre-teen rebellious patch and run away from home. She’d shown up at Dad’s and tapped on my bedroom window. Her parents read her note in the morning and, naturally, rang Dad first. He found us curled up in my bed, chuckled and assured them Cecelia would always have somewhere safe to run to. A Sunday incident was important, no questions asked.

Cecelia’s voice sharpened. ‘Do you need Mum to come and get you?’

‘No. I’ll be there soon.’

I raced into the apartment, thanked God – well, whichever god might be responsible, certainly not the one waiting for me downstairs – that I had toothbrushes, makeup and clothes at both houses and stuffed things into a bag. I rushed back downstairs and came outside to find the God of Lightning gone.

‘Keraun!’ I roared because I couldn’t keep any more in. As I reached for my phone again, a car came flying around the corner. It was a tiny, boxy, bright orange convertible, top down, and it whined as Keraun thrashed it up to the kerb.

‘Better?’ he asked, grinning. I walked around it, shaking my head, and chucked my bag in the back before climbing into the cramped passenger seat.

‘Worse.’

‘But it’s a convertible. That’s cool, right?’

Somehow, despite everything that had happened tonight, I laughed. ‘Maybe if it’s a Porsche. Did you steal it?’

‘No!’ He looked offended, but his mesmerising eyes were mocking. ‘Maybe.’

‘You’ve probably done some poor person a favour, saving them from this car. It’s just as well you didn’t pay for it.’

Keraun rolled his eyes. ‘It’s a car, and it goes. Where to?’

I gave him Cecelia’s address. He dropped me off, taking my phone number and promising he’d let me know if any Taskforce suits came looking for me.

Cecelia let me in without a question, just a worried look. She’d already made up the roll-out bed in her room for me and went straight back to sleep. I fell into vague, fragmented dreams of needle pricks and red hair and unlikely lightning flashes.