Fated

‘Oh look, what have we got here?’ Tobruk pulled his feet off the table and reached down to drag a girl up by her hair. It was Shireen. Her eyes were closed and she was breathing shallowly, cuts and scratches criss-crossed her face. Tobruk held her up long enough for me to see her, his fingers tangled in her hair, then he tossed her forward to slump across the desk, her head hitting the wood with a thunk. ‘So what do you think I should do with her?’

I stood still. ‘What if I burn some of her fingers off?’ Tobruk asked. He shook his head. ‘Nah, that’d be a waste. I think I should screw her first. She always was a good lay.’

‘Stop it,’ I said, my mouth dry.

Tobruk grinned. He settled back into his chair and spread his arms wide, inviting. ‘Make me.’

I wanted to dive for him. Instead I took a deep breath and fought the anger, controlling it. When I spoke at last, my voice was steady. ‘The only place I’m going is through this door.’

‘You think I care?’ Tobruk shrugged. ‘You’re coming back sooner or later. Matter of fact, I kind of want you to run into Richard again.’ He grinned again. ‘Course, if you want to speed things up …’

I looked down at Shireen’s unconscious body. ‘What did she do to you?’ I asked.

‘She didn’t do anything.’ The grin vanished from Tobruk’s face and he leant forward over the desk at me, his eyes suddenly filled with hate. ‘I was going to be Richard’s Chosen. Two years of clawing to be better than the rest of you, and all for what? So you could stab me in the back like a coward. My whole life was a waste because of you! My whole life!’ Suddenly Tobruk flashed into flame, becoming a skeleton wreathed in dark fire. It only lasted a second, then he was human again. Smoke curled from the chair. Where his hands had been splayed on the desk, charred handprints were burnt into the wood.

The two of us stared at each other. ‘I did a lot of things I shouldn’t have while I was here,’ I said at last. ‘A lot of them I don’t like to think about. But you know what?’ I held Tobruk’s gaze, dropping my mask, letting him see I was telling the truth. ‘Killing you was the only thing I ever did from that time that I don’t regret at all.’

Tobruk glared at me a second longer, then snorted and dropped back into the chair. ‘Yeah, whatever.’

I turned to leave.

‘Oh, Alex?’

I paused for a moment, then looked back.

‘Richard’s going to find you,’ Tobruk said. He was smiling again. ‘When he wakes up he’s going to go looking for you. Then he’s going to find you and then he’s going to hurt you and then you’re going to die. And when you do, I’ll be waiting for you. Make sure you stay alive till then, Alex. I’ll be really disappointed if you let any of those guys kill you instead. I want to see your face when you meet him.’ He gave a mocking wave. ‘Be seeing you.’ He turned towards Shireen.

I didn’t wait to see what he was going to do with her. I stepped through the door, pushing it open. There was a moment of blinding, unbearable light, then—

My eyes snapped open into darkness. It was warm, and I was back on the bed in the room in Morden’s mansion. I looked quickly through the futures just to make sure that I was really back, then I got up. The lights in the room had gone out, and the fire was cold. Outside, starlight glinted off the leaves. I stood by the window for a while, looking out into the night, before I turned and returned to bed.

11

A lot of people think of captivity as something glamorous, but the truth is, being a prisoner is mostly just boring. No matter how sadistic the guy in control of you, he can’t focus on you twenty-four hours a day. He’s got other things to do and, while he’s busy, you’re going to be sitting alone. After a few weeks, it can get to the point where you almost welcome a visit, just for a little human interaction. When I’d been Richard’s prisoner I’d passed the time by practising divination; I couldn’t reach outside the walls, but I got to know every square inch of that room. I learned some weird skills that way. Even now I can pick up anything from a pencil to a tennis ball and hit a target first time, every time, looking into the future to see exactly how I need to make the throw. If I ever give up being a diviner, I can always make a living playing darts.

So the following day as Morden’s ‘guest’ was just like old times. The door to my room wasn’t locked but I didn’t go wandering; I didn’t want to ruffle any feathers. Instead I sat in the chair with a book, and anyone watching would have seen me barely move all day except to turn a page.