Cold Tomorrow

[41]

CHAPTER FORTY-ONE

"The plan is simple – and tricky," Scott informs the congregation, seated in the back of the van. There aren't any real chairs back here so everyone's huddled on the floor, backs against the metal doors. Ethel sits in the driver's chair, with Renée as a passenger. The glow of her skin taints the vehicles interior a flickering silver. Everything feels unreal, like a drunk stupor, like a dream.

"Melissa will present Keon with the anchor and will speak her intention to break the curse. With Renée's magic, we've already altered the energy of the curse to seek a new anchor as soon as the current one is destroyed. Melissa, your speech will have to be very general for this to work. Any mention of curse-breaking and Renée's magic will have no effect. A statement like, 'I wish to remove my power from this curse,' would be ideal. Once the anchor is destroyed, there will be a delay period of roughly fifteens minutes, during which it will appear as though the curse is broken. It's our job to get everyone out and away from Keon during that window.

"Of course, this is all theory. Application of this plan will be much more difficult. If Keon tells Melissa what to say when breaking the curse, we lose. If Keon notices something's up, we lose. If we don't get out in under fifteen minutes, we lose. And remember: we have no idea what forces he has at his disposal. He could have a telepath or a seer in the room. There could be dozens of Anarkks in there waiting for us. He could go back on his word. Ladies and gents, we could easily be walking into a trap."

No one speaks. It's not like anyone here hasn't thought of that possibility. But the way Scott says it, in his strong, persuasive voice, makes it all the more real. I can almost see the thought running through everyone's head with renewed intensity.

"Oh, stop it, Scott," Ethel says suddenly from the front. The fear is sucked from the room. "You're scaring all the kids."

Five minutes to midday, when all my nails have been bitten down to the quick, the van pulls up on a deserted stretch of road. No other parked cars. No people in sight. When the doors are slid back, I get my first view of the church. It's an imposing Victorian Gothic structure set back from the road on a large patch of dead grassy land. A sign at the edge of the weak lawn proclaims, St Margaret's Holy Church. And beneath it, You are about to enter hallowed ground. Please be respectful.

The hallowed ground in reference is a graveyard. Tombstones dating from the 19th century litter the lawn surrounding the church, almost at random. The clouds above let out another roar – a cry, a plea, a warning. The air smells like rain and rot.

Harrison hops out of the van and comes to a stop beside me. "Kind of overkill with the theatrics, don't you think? Spooky church. Graveyard. Thunder and lightning. If this guy's trying to intimidate us, he's trying too hard."

"It's a stage."

"And he's the sadist sicko running the show."

Suddenly silence. All Harrison's quips fade on the bitter winter wind. Keon's stage may be overly theatrical, but it's desired effect – intimidation – is taking its toll. Standing before the church, I feel a darkness creep into my heart. The whole scene pulses, beating like a heart, flashing between real and unreal. One moment I am witnessing it in my minds eye as a vision of the future; the next it is corporeal once more. Just like that, future and present blur ever more closely, space-time tangling impossibly, as though the universe is experiencing a glitch.

"She's in there, isn't she?" Harrison says, quietly, hopefully, fearfully. I don't have to reply. One look and I can tell he already knows the answer. They're brother and sister. Somehow, even now, they share a bond that transcends time and space. I have my abilities – telekinesis, regeneration, visions; and this – this unbounded connection to his sister – is his.