The Fandom Rising Read online

  Nate knows me? But he didn’t recognize me at Baba’s execution. What’s changed?

  I hear the trill of birdsong and the swish of wings echoing through the station. I look through the mottled glass of the carriage expecting to see a flock of birds, but only my own terrified reflection stares back at me.

  ‘She’s the insert,’ Oscar says. ‘The Imp who took Rose’s place during one of the loops. We should take her to the President, he’ll know what to do.’

  But Howard laughs. ‘My uncle would want her dead. Like all the other vermin.’

  ‘No,’ says Oscar. ‘She may be more use to us alive.’ Howard raises his voice, flecks of spittle flying from his lips. ‘I am in charge in my uncle’s absence.’

  Nate looks at me, his face filled with panic. ‘An insert? A loop? What are they on about?’

  Suddenly, my jaw can move, and I whisper the words which have been building inside me ever since I arrived in this dump. ‘I’m your sister, Nate.’

  The sounds of Oscar and Howard arguing, the hum of disapproving Gems, drowns out Nate’s words, but I can just about read his lips. ‘My sister?’

  ‘Nate, look at me.’ I hold his face, forcing him to stare into my eyes. And then I begin to sing, quietly so only he can hear.

  ‘Let me fix your broken wing,

  A swallow should fly free, my love.’

  ‘That song,’ he says, his eyes filling with tears. ‘How could you possibly know it?’

  I don’t reply, I just keep singing, every word burning my throat.

  ‘For you were born to dance and sing,

  And you will soar with me, my love.’

  ‘Nobody knows that song except me,’ Nate whispers. ‘I hear it in my dreams.’

  ‘Our mother used to sing it to us.’

  An expression of such intensity grips his features, only bliss or the crushing pain of loss could cause it.

  Just then, Oscar raises his voice, making the metal shell of the carriage reverberate. ‘You will regret this, Howard. This Imp is important beyond your understanding. She isn’t from our world—’

  ‘Stop questioning me,’ Howard roars. ‘You and your bloody loops. Funny how only a few of you remember this loop, but the rest of us can’t.’

  A murmur of agreement rises from the crowd. I hadn’t realized there would be resentment between those who could remember the loop and those who couldn’t. And right now, it’s going to get me killed.

  Howard swipes at the projecting marble still hovering before him, and the link to Oscar vanishes.

  ‘That is enough,’ Howard yells, white froth gathering in the corners of his mouth. ‘The Imp dies.’ He strides towards me and grabs my arm, dragging me from the carriage on to the platform.

  ‘No,’ I say. ‘Please, Oscar’s right.’

  Howard responds by yanking my hair and shoving me further across the platform. ‘All these bloody secrets,’ he throws over his shoulder, as though Oscar can still hear him. ‘Whispering with my uncle when you think I can’t hear, you think I don’t know? Well, maybe this will teach you to tell me what the hell is going on.’

  My head feels like it’s going to rip clean away from my neck. I try to scream but find my lungs are empty and tight.

  ‘Wait, Howard. Please.’ Nate hangs on to Howard’s cloak, clawing his way towards me. The look on his face makes me want to cry. It’s sheer terror.

  The rest of the Taleters follow, pulling Nate back. Howard throws me into the wall of the platform. A tile snaps beneath my weight, pain shoots up my spine and I begin to feel light-headed and sick. Candlelight swirls around the tunnel; shadows and smoke twist around each other. Howard approaches, his blond curls so aglow he looks like a deranged angel. He leans in and I feel his breath against my ear. It smells of decay. ‘Shame we can’t hang you the old-fashioned way. I really miss watching the Imps dance. A bullet will have to do instead.’ He turns back to the crowd. ‘Bring me Nate.’

  The crowd ushers Nate forwards so that he stands less than a metre away. He’s so close I could reach out and touch him if my arms weren’t pinned. I long to touch him. A reassuring squeeze of his shoulder. Tears stream down his face, and he’s shaking his head like he can’t quite believe what’s about to happen.

  Howard looks at him. ‘You two seemed very cosy just now. What were you talking about?’

  ‘N-nothing,’ Nate stammers. ‘I recognize her, that’s all. Please . . . don’t hurt her.’

  ‘Are you a true Taleter, Nate?’ Howard asks, his face relaxing into a dangerous smile. ‘Do you want that serum so you can become a Gem?’

  ‘Yes,’ Nate answers without missing a beat.

  Howard pulls a pistol from inside his cloak and shoves it into Nate’s hands. ‘Then prove it. Put a bullet in the bitch’s skull.’

  Nate points the gun at me. Silence falls. His face contorts with grief.

  ‘Do it!’ Howard roars.

  ‘I can’t.’ Nate’s voice sounds small, but as he looks at Howard, strength gathers in his eyes. ‘I won’t.’ The blast of gunshot rips through me. I brace myself for the pain, the mess, the loss of consciousness. But the bullet was never meant for me.

  Howard drops to the floor, blood pooling from his stomach.

  Before I can think or move, I hear Nate’s voice. ‘RUN!’

  We drop down behind the carriage on to the lines. That’s when the gunfire really starts. Exploding into the platform behind me, showering my face with shards of ancient paving. The ground around me erupts and the metal rails resound with terrifying pinging. Nate grabs my hand and we begin to tear down the tunnel into the black.

  I look behind. Gems chase us, their cloaks fanning behind them, their faces battle-ready and thirsty for revenge. They’ll catch us, surely – they’re Gems. Up ahead, in the gloom, are several dots of light. Torches? Headlamps? It must be too soon for Katie to have summoned help. Regardless, I sprint towards those dots of light, knowing that they can’t be any worse than what chases us.

  The dots grow stronger, brighter. It’s Willow, Ash and Daisy, clutching torches and running towards us. They pass us without as much as a glance, pulling weapons from their belts and coats. They’re far outnumbered by the Taleters, but they have the element of surprise, and once they start firing, the Taleters retreat back to the station.

  Our three saviours loop back towards us.

  ‘Hurry,’ Ash shouts. I can’t remember a time I’ve been so pleased to see him. I throw my arms around his neck and squeeze with all my might, breathing in his safe and wonderful scent.

  He drags me towards some motorbikes, ditched on their sides, engines still turning and stinking of diesel. Something about the lack of technology makes me feel secure, like a little piece of home is staring back at me.

  ‘Hang on a second,’ Willow says, pointing at Nate. ‘Why are we saving him?’

  Beneath the dust and muck, Nate’s face drains of all colour.

  I step in between them. ‘He just shot Howard Stoneback. Howard Stoneback.’

  Willow stares at me for a second. And then gestures for Nate to sit behind him. They zip away from us, Daisy close behind. Ash hoists the remaining bike upright, and I climb on behind him. He revs the engine and we squeal after the others. The headlights show every bump and crack in the walls, every decomposing rat corpse strewn between the rusting lines. But I’m so shielded by shock, so disconnected from reality, I’m oddly grateful to the choking dust and the ear-splitting roar of the engines, captured and magnified by the brick walls.

  I hold on to Ash as fiercely as I can, unashamedly thankful for the excuse to lean into him. I savour the warmth of his back against my stomach, the hardness of his shoulder blades against my chest. The bike rumbles through the tunnel. The vibrations pass through my thighs and into my gut, masking the bubbling of residual adrenalin and the growing excitement that I’m clinging on to Ash.

  We head back the way we came, but whereas the others follow the route for Moorgate, Ash takes another turn. I’
m not sure where he’s taking me, but I feel completely safe, and it barely occurs to me that this is a strange thing for him to do. Of course we need some alone time. I nearly died.

  We draw to a halt. He cuts the engine and our strange, tubular world is plunged into eerie silence; I hear only the sound of our breath and the distant scratch of vermin. He leaves the headlamp on and grains of dirt swirl around us, catching in the light like flecks of gold. This tunnel has probably remained undisturbed for centuries; it feels like we’re the only people in the world right now, and from the way Ash is breathing – deep yet unsure – I think he feels the same.

  ‘The Gems won’t follow us,’ he finally says. ‘We’re well into Imp territory. We’ll be safe here for a moment.’

  We both dismount. But Ash doesn’t look at me like I expect, rather he begins to brush the mud from the headlamp, his face tipped from view.

  ‘Why did we stop?’ I ask.

  This forces him to turn. He’s been crying. The tears have left clean tracks through the muck on his face, and his eyelashes are stuck together.

  Instinctively, I reach out a hand and touch his cheek. ‘What’s the matter?’

  ‘Violet, what were you thinking? You were nearly killed.’

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I blurt out. ‘I’m so sorry. But I’ve found something out, something terrible.’

  ‘I know, Katie told us. Fortunately for you, we were on our way anyway. My reading isn’t great, but once I told Daisy what I’d seen on your arm, it didn’t take much to figure out where you were . . . Who are you?’

  ‘You really don’t remember me?’ I ask.

  He stares at me. ‘I think maybe I do.’

  Something builds inside me, something strong and warm, threatening to spill out of me. I lean forwards and kiss him on the lips.

  He pulls away like my mouth delivered an electric charge.

  ‘Violet,’ he whispers.

  ‘I’m sorry,’ I garble. ‘I know you love Daisy, I know you do.’

  ‘I do love her.’

  The jealousy explodes inside me. I feel so petty – I’ve just uncovered a secret plot to exterminate the Imps, and all I can think about is Ash. But I’m starting to understand that jealousy sits on the surface like a blood blister, toxic and black, unable to heal. It isn’t a single, clean slice to the flesh, not like the other dark emotions. It can’t bleed out, it can’t be wiped up or stitched back together. It festers and it broods and there’s nothing you can do about it.

  He takes my hands in his and smiles his lopsided smile. ‘I do love her. But not like you think.’

  ‘What . . . what do you mean?’

  ‘There are many different types of love. I don’t love Dee the way you think I love Dee.’

  I shake my head, frustrated. ‘What?’

  ‘We’re a symbol of hope, a union of an Imp and Gem. Willow introduced us, hoping we would fall for each other. But I just didn’t feel it, you know. Dee’s beautiful and kind, and she really cares about me, but something just isn’t right.’

  ‘But . . . you live together.’

  ‘It’s entirely for show; she’s more like a sister to me. We’ve got separate rooms.’

  I don’t know what’s going on in my body right now. It’s like all the bitterness in my veins is being drained away, that blood blister receding so that I’m left with only skin. Skin which feels surprisingly warm, skin which longs to be touched. ‘And what does Dee think about this?’

  ‘She hopes that my feelings for her will eventually develop.’

  ‘Are you just saying this? Seriously, Ash? Are you just saying what you think I want to hear?’

  A hurt expression darkens the pale of his eyes. ‘Of course not.’

  But I can’t bring myself to believe him, not yet, not when my heart hangs so delicately in the balance, and my instinct remains to protect myself. ‘Well, maybe you will, grow to love her, I mean. She seems lovely, and she clearly wants you. It’s almost your responsibility after all, providing a symbol for Imp–Gem unity.’

  He stops me by placing a hand against my cheek. It’s warm and soft and I can’t help but push my face into it. I swear I would recognise the press of his skin even after a lifetime apart. ‘Why do I feel so drawn to you?’ he says.

  I open my mouth to respond, but no words appear.

  ‘Do you feel it too?’ he asks.

  ‘Yes.’

  His mouth smiles, even though his eyes look sorrowful, desperate almost. ‘I never believed in “the one”, not until now. It’s like I was numb, dead, until you turned up . . . and now everything makes sense.’ He laughs a sad laugh. ‘Everything and nothing.’

  Tears spring to my eyes. ‘Ash, I can’t stay here . . . we can never be together.’ Because one way or another, I’m leaving this place, be it by transdimensional tunnelling or by body bag. It breaks my heart to say it, but Ash and I will never have a happy ending. ‘I don’t belong here,’ I whisper.

  ‘Then neither do I.’ And suddenly, he’s kissing me. It’s a desperate kiss, filled with heat and love, sending waves of pleasure through me. I pull him close to me, and within seconds, I’m pulling off his shirt, my movements frantic. My hands move across his chest, tracing the abundance of freckles which cluster on his shoulders, and he kisses me again as his hands move beneath my top, gently feeling their way across my flesh.

  I’ve imagined my first time over and over. It tends to involve clean sheets, soft lighting, the hot thrum of alcohol in my veins, and the gentle lull of music to hide my gasps. Not once did I imagine getting naked between the disused tracks of London’s Underground, the hard floor scratching at my butt, and the noises falling from my mouth echoed back at me from the brick walls. Not once did I imagine my breasts, thighs, stomach . . . everything . . . exposed to the cold, stagnant air, illuminated by the glare of a motorcycle headlamp.

  But since the day I met him, it always involved Ash. Even when I couldn’t remember him properly, when he was just a shadow, a fleeting scent in my unconscious, it involved Ash. So in spite of everything – the dirt, the cold, the stark light – my first time is everything I’d hoped, because it’s with him.

  24

  ALICE

  I wake to the buzz of my phone. I blink, the artificial light stinging my eyes. It’s super late, and I can hear Danny’s soft breaths. I worry it will be another threatening message and my muscles tighten. But when I look, it’s another post from Fanboy.

  The meeting at the tube station.

  I read it slowly, my trembling hands causing the words to blur on my screen.

  Fanboy carefully documents the Taleters’ plan to destroy the Imps. An Imp-targeting virus. Planted in canisters around the country, ready to detonate in mere days. They’ve developed a serum that can turn Imps into Gems, but that’s only for a few favourites. For the rest . . . tears swell in my eyes as I whisper their names at my phone. Violet. Katie. Nate. They’re going to die horrible deaths if I don’t do something.

  As I blink my vision clear, I notice a message from Russell. He must have sent it an hour or so ago.

  Hey, I love your new fanfic about

  Nate. Do you fancy meeting up to

  chat about publicity? I think we

  could be good for each other x

  The last sentence jars a little. It sounds more like a come-on than an invitation to talk publicity. But maybe this is the best thing I can do. While Danny works on the IP address, I can work on winning the fanfic war, spreading Fandom Rising to as big an audience as possible.

  I turn off my phone, glancing at Danny, sound asleep on the bedroom floor.

  Guilt squirms in my stomach.

  VIOLET

  I wake beside Ash. It’s pitch black here in the tunnel, but I can tell from the steady rise and fall of his chest that he’s still asleep. We found an old blanket tucked in the storage box in the motorcycle seat, and this, combined with our clothes, is piled on top of us to keep out the cold. The warmth from his naked skin calms me like nothi
ng else, and the darkness seems to accentuate his body heat. I imagine I can see us, two bodies forming a unitary glowing shape on the tunnel floor.

  I reach for our torch and flick it on, positioning it so it points towards the ceiling. The beam reflects down on us, casting us in a strange, rippled light. I carefully check the battered old watch on Ash’s wrist; 6 a.m. And for only a second, just because my legs are wound around his, I let myself believe that everything will be OK. I just need to find that canister and stop it from releasing the virus. I don’t know which wakes Ash, the light or my movement, but he wakes all the same. He opens his eyes and smiles. He looks all sleepy and cute, his hair a ruffled mess, his face marked with a blanket crease. He’s about to say something when we hear a gasp.

  I sit up, without thinking, and the blanket flops away from me, revealing my bare chest. I gather it up as quickly as I can, my eyes focusing on the figure in the dark. I can just pick out Daisy’s features, the look of horror and betrayal on her perfect face. I guess the others told her we got left behind, and she came looking. Maybe I knew she would. Maybe I wanted her to find us like this.

  With a flash of guilt, I remember discovering Alice with Willow, the hurt and betrayal which ripped through me.

  Ash props himself on his elbows and rubs his eyes. He sees her and the look on his face breaks my heart. It’s one of shock and pain and fear.

  She turns and runs back down the tunnel.

  I pause, expecting a heartfelt ‘Dee’ to echo after her, resonating between her footsteps and sobs.

  But it never comes.

  Driven by guilt and shame, I hear my own voice call out, ‘DAISY!’ I stand, clutching the blanket to my chest, accidentally lifting it from Ash, so only his strewn-open jacket hides his modesty.

  ‘DAISY,’ I shout again.

  She doesn’t stop. I listen as her footsteps fade. I begin pulling my clothes on, desperate to chase after her, but Ash lays a gentle hand on my ankle.

  ‘Let her go,’ he says.

  ‘But—’ I begin.

  He cuts over me. ‘She needed to find out. I just wish I’d told her first. Please don’t feel bad, it’s my fault, not yours.’