“Bullet hit her between the eyes.” He looks at me. “Clean shot. She wouldn’t have known what hit her. Humane.” The look he gives me tells me he won’t be asking who the shooter was again.
He knows.
We both know.
I look around the area, one of Micky’s men now checking on the driver in the car and identifying him as Alek Wray. He’s dead. My shot isn’t as good as the person who killed Majken, but I know how to hit my target.
“You okay?”
Micky’s the closest to me that he’s been since I’ve known him.
“They were here to do damage.”
“You don’t need to justify what I’ve done.”
Micky’s head snaps round. “Fucking too right. You can justify everything yourself.” He steps away. “I need to get your reports. But don’t worry, none of this’ll come back at you.” Then he’s away, barking orders, leaving me to wonder what the fuck just happened.
Thirteen Years Ago
“Why don’t you go and explore the castle? It’s a bit of an adventure.”
My grandfather stands next to the man who I know is the King of Scotland. They’ve both smiled at each other and then started to discuss a book before realising I was still there, unsure of what to do.
“Where am I not allowed?” Because there are always places where I can’t go and I’m good at finding them. And not being caught. I found my father in his study with another man and they weren’t discussing his job or his role. I’d never really understood what men could do to each other, still didn’t because I’d stopped watching and left before anyone could see me.
A ghost in the machine.
“You can go wherever you like, as long as it isn’t locked.” It’s the king speaking and his words are kind. “Explore. Find secrets. This castle has many.”
So I do. I follow corridors that narrow and change from warm to cold, find locked doors that block off an entire wing and bedroom that I’ve only ever seen in a history book. I find the kitchen and the cook, who immediately provides food and cake and a drink that tastes of summer and then I find the door that leads outside.
It’s a warm day and I can hear the big lake in the distance, or the loch as my grandfather has told me to call it. I haven’t said the word out loud yet, the hard sound at the end doesn’t feel right when I mouth it and I’m afraid to say it in case it sounds wrong to everyone else. I miss the ocean and the waves there, the huge expanse of sea that I have to swim in and surf in and the feel of the sand on my feet.
Two weeks this summer has been spent in London with the man who calls himself my father, although the time I spend with him is minimal. He has me with tutors, people who will ‘enhance my learning’ because he has some stupid notion that I’m cleverer than my half-brother and will therefore uphold his family name.
Only I won’t ever take his name and my mother says he can’t force me. I like my surname. Everleigh. Ever Lives.
The loch is bigger than I imagined and looks something like the sea as the opposite end is too far away to actually be seen. The mountains either side look like stone guardians, there to protect anyone who stays at the castle and I’ve learned enough history to know that this is why this spot for the castle was chosen.
Everywhere is still.
There aren’t the summer surfers or the families holidaying by a beach so that their children can paddle in the water. The only noise is the sound of birds as they call in the air. I walk away from the water before I go in it and I don’t know what the hell I’m supposed to do about that because no one’s told me. One of my summer tutors that my grandfather has rescued me from is there to teach me the rules of society.
I don’t give a fuck about society.
I wander around, glad of being outside where there’s fresh air and the sound of people agreeing when they don’t isn’t there.
I hear another sound though. Laughter. It’s carried on the breeze across hedgerows and large trees that look like they form a maze. The entrance is on the opposite side to the loch and overgrown with hawthorn and brambles. I scramble through; the voices are the same sound as my friends so I figure there might be someone of my own age there, someone to talk to about sport or even exams if we’re desperate.
The maze isn’t easy. It twists and turns and there are dead ends that look like they should continue and I want to tear up the shrubs and trees to get there quicker, but then I don’t. Because this place wants to keep me here.
I hear the laughter growing closer and the sounds of whispers. There’s a male voice, maybe about the same age as me and a girl, one I want to listen to all day because her words sound soothing even if I can’t make out what they are.
I didn’t know about his granddaughter. No one thought to mention that a princess was here because when I see her through a gap in the hedgerow, beneath the drape of a weeping willow, I know who she is. Blair. I even remember her name.
I’ve seen girls with no clothes on before, touched them. Fucked them, two of them and one had shown me how to make her come with my fingers and then my tongue, but there’s a princess sitting on a lad’s knee, facing him, and her tits are out and he’s touching them.
I can’t look away.
