Although I was pretty sure she wouldn’t let me near her anyway. Not now I’d told her the truth. Or half of it, at least. The part that mattered: that made me what I was.
I wasn’t surprised to hear she’d spoken to Aspen. Or that Aspen had told her about the incident. My sister didn’t believe what her own logical mind was telling her. She loved her brother, but she didn’t know everything about him. Even during the hard times, she’d never fully lost faith in me, believing that underneath all my shenanigans lay a heart of gold. A good soul. She’d wanted to believe it, just as Mabel had. For two years I’d been trying to reassure Aspen that her faith was warranted, but I’d had to destroy all trace of it in Mabel. Sometimes, all it took was the truth.
I hadn’t lied, although I’d wanted to. Everything I’d told her was true. I remembered every detail, I thought about it every night. The way their bodies had felt, the expression in their eyes, the sounds they’d made–so much panic, so much pain, so much helplessness. And the noises that had come from the mouth I’d used to kiss Mabel, only a few years later. The hands that had touched her, the same hands that had hurt those women in the cruellest ways. Those memories were a part of me. The part that made it impossible for me to look in a mirror without self-loathing. That made it impossible for me to sleep with Mabel, although I’d desperately wanted to.
I had told her one part of the truth–the darkest part, the part I was least able to shake off and which clung stubbornly to my heels. Because every truth had a shadow, and the shadow was where we lived. The fact buried deep within it was this: my body wasn’t good enough for Mabel. I wasn’t good enough.
‘If I see one more twat of a cyclist who thinks they can ring their bell at me I’m going to drown them in the Thames with my bare fucking hands!’
I closed my eyes in resignation before turning around to face Ashton. His steps were crisp and resolute, the echo of them drifting up towards the vaulted ceiling. There was no space so large that Ashton couldn’t occupy it if he wanted to. His anger put him at the centre of the hall, so that even the conical lights above us seemed to pool their beams around him. I’d hoped a walk would give him a chance to cool off, but apparently it had done the opposite. Normally Ashton liked London. He loved the crowds of people, the frankness of the city and its inhabitants. Of the tourists, above all, who flocked to the city year-round. Fascination and excitement made people more accessible. But today, not even the wildly beating heart of the capital could cheer him up. For a week now he’d been in such a foul mood that I could hardly stand to be around him. Which, of course, was exactly why I didn’t want to leave his side. I knew him well enough to be aware that when he was in that state he often made decisions he came to regret. Decisions we all came to regret.
He stopped in front of me, directly beneath the three arched windows, beyond which was the expansive blue of the London night. ‘Still no word. Have you heard anything?’
I shook my head. Ashton and I had been in the conference room earlier that evening, briefing the council on the situation at Cambridge. Well, technically Ashton had done the talking, and more soberly than I was used to from him. Henry’s gimletstare was the only thing really capable of keeping him in check– for as long as it was bearing down on him, at least. As soon as we re-emerged, his temper flared again. That was barely two hours ago. If the council didn’t decide soon, it wasn’t just London’s cylists who were in danger, it was the entire contents of the building.
‘I’m sure they’ll let us know soon,’ I said calmly, although I was growing more anxious by the minute.
I had come here to support Ashton, and to keep tabs on how much information he gave them. But I almost wished I hadn’t, because he hadn’t just told them about Victor, he’d told them about Mabel, as well. In a way that made it clear what his intentions were. He was good at downplaying things, but even better at making them more dramatic. A couple of times I’d nearly interrupted, but I knew the council well enough to be aware of the consequences of that. Disrespect and disobedience were always punished in the same way. I couldn’t help Mabel if I was bleeding to death somewhere.
All I could do was hope that the council members would, as usual, make a more level-headed decision than Ashton was capable of right now. He just snorted and ran a hand through his curls. ‘Honestly? Right now I don’t give a shit what they say. I want her gone.’
‘Since when do we make decisions for personal reasons?’
He took a step towards me, so close that I could feel the heat coming off him. Judging by the warmth of his body, he hadn’t been on that walk alone. ‘Since that bitch spat in my face.’
I looked at the spot beneath his breastbone, which was giving off an unpleasantly tangible vibration. ‘You shouldn’t be so hung up on external appearances, remember?’
Ashton snarled and gave me a shove, hand to my chest. ‘Fuck you,Cliff.’
‘All right, calm down.’ I followed him as he began to pace back and forth. If he knocked over one of the statues or attracted any other kind of attention, he wouldn’t be the only one to carry the can. ‘She’s just a harmless girl, no danger to us.’ Everything about the words tasted hollow. She wasn’t just a girl, and certainly not harmless–she was one of the most headstrong people I’d ever met. And even if she wasn’t a danger to us, she was most definitely a danger to me. Had been for a while.
‘But you know what she said, don’t you?’
Of course. Norah had told me everything that happened before I got there. ‘She was upset,’ I replied soothingly. ‘Her friend’s in a coma. Because of us.’
Another weight settled over my shoulders at the thought. I’d tried calling Mabel after the accident but couldn’t get through. Maybe she was already starting to doubt me. If she hadn’t spoken to Aspen and Ashton first, if she’d just talked to me, things might have turned out differently. Maybe I could have been there for her–properly–and not just by trying to protect her from Ashton.
‘I mean, maybe if it was intentional. But we both know it was just bad fucking luck that Vic hit that loser.’ Ashton grimaced, staring at the chalk-white statue by the wall.
I stepped casually between him and the statue. ‘Yeah, but you can’t blame her for assuming otherwise. Plus, it happened right after the professor died. Doesn’t take a genius to connect the dots. And Mabel is…’ I trailed off, because there were too many possible endings to that sentence, and I wasn’t allowed to utter any of them. ‘She’s very intelligent.’
Ashton gave a grim smile. ‘If she was very intelligent she wouldn’t have thrown it in myfacelike that, telling me exactly what she planned to do with that information. Now she’s not just a danger to us, she’s a danger to my own personal project.’ Again, he jabbed me in the chest. ‘I don’t care if you’ve taken a shine to her.’ Another jab. ‘I don’t care if we agreed not to touch each other’s moths without permission.’ A third jab. ‘I. Don’t. Care.Got it?’
On the fourth jab, I caught his wrist. ‘Listen, you?—’
But I didn’t get any further, because Ashton’s phone rang. He jerked his hand away and answered the call. The pounding of my heartbeat was so loud I barely caught what he said over the next few minutes. Yet I understood instantly. I could tell from the way the tension ebbed from his shoulders as he listened to Henry, and by the time he turned back to face me, I knew. There could only be one reason for such a broad grin. One that almost brought me to my knees.
‘Well, well, well. Today’s looking up,’ he announced cheerfully. ‘Henry says they agree with me. After Victor’s little accident we can’t afford to draw any more attention to ourselves. Not even if–and I quote–it’s just the rantings of an overzealous bursary student. I’ve been given the official go-ahead: I can make sure this problem is taken care of.’
I felt a tremor run through me. It took all my strength to stop it reaching my muscles, and especially my face. Yet I couldn’t stop it creeping into my next words. ‘We can’t do that, it would be much too high-profile.’
Ashton rolled his eyes. ‘I’ll be careful. There are all sorts of solutions, and Victor’s preference isn’t necessarily mine. I like to go about things with a bit more style. They’ll never even find her.’
I tasted bile on my tongue, and took a step towards him. ‘Ashton, you can’t?—’
‘I can and I will!’ His eyes flashed in warning. ‘As soon as the dust settles and this whole accident thing is forgotten, I’ll deal with it myself. You’ll have to find a new plaything. Or is there some other reason why you’re giving me that look?’
Yes, there was. I couldn’t put it into words, but the emotion behind it was so powerful I was willing to do anything, risk anything, sacrifice anything to stop Ashton. But that was the problem: there was no anything. There was only nothing. I could donothingto dissuade him. And even if I could have found some way of convincing him to leave her alone,theywouldn’t. As of this moment, Mabel was officially what our community referred to–with a faintly mocking undertone–asfair game. She was as good as dead. And nothing I said now would change that.
