Impulse Page 15

  ‘My grandparents,’ I said, my voice cracking. ‘I miss them, and probably shouldn’t have left them.’

  He nodded and stared down at his feet. He wore faded-green boots, the laces frayed.

  ‘Do you feel obliged to be a good granddaughter to your grandparents? Or do you truly want to be with them more than you want to be here?’

  The idea shocked me. And the answers in my head shocked me even more. That I was only feeling guilty because I wanted a clear conscience made me feel sick.

  ‘Being honest with yourself starves the demon inside of you.’

  I sighed. Yeah. I knew what he meant.

  ‘But I do miss them. My grandmother is sick. She’s forgetting stuff.’ I told him the bus-stop story, and he listened, nodding his head every so often, sometimes shaking it.

  ‘And why is this terrible?’

  I met his strange eyes. ‘What do you mean? Of course it’s bad. One day she’ll forget who we all are. She won’t know us.’

  ‘But is it bad for you, or bad for her?’ He must have seen the look on my face, because he shook his head. ‘I’m not trying to make you feel like shit. But think about it. She’s re-living her youth. It might be painful for you, because you want her as you think she should be. You want her to be’—he made quotation marks with his fingers—‘grandmother, which is nothing more than a title. That’s not who or what she is, Miranda. Right now she is an old lady, living inside her head, thinking she’s young again. Is that so bad?’

  Blake’s version of my grandmother’s predicament sounded way better than mine.

  ‘I never thought about it that way.’

  He nodded like a wise old man and then leant back on his chair, balancing it on two legs, and stared up at the moonless sky with a look of longing on his face that made him seem young again, like a child.

  ‘When we hurt for somebody, it’s almost always related to our own emotions, with nothing to do with the other person. Sounds selfish, but it’s true; and life is less complicated when we give in to the truth.’

  ‘But…how am I supposed to feel good about how hard it will be for my grandad?’

  ‘Who the hell says you have to feel good? And who the hell says it will be bad for your grandad? It might help him in some way… Change helps you evolve. Good or bad, we need change. Need the different. Our brains aren’t wired for the same-old.’

  I glanced at the darkness that cloaked Blake’s home, and the lack of neighbours.

  ‘No offence, but you live out here on your own and’—I chewed on my bottom lip before continuing—‘and apart from finding Anne, you probably live a life without too much going on, without too much change. So how am I supposed to believe what you just said?’

  He glared at me, his eyes stony and frightening, and for a second I felt my stomach clench with fear. I didn’t really know him. He could flip out or something. Even though I did kind of like him, there was something a little wild and unhinged about him. And there were a lot of rooms between Anne’s bedroom and this backyard.

  But then he threw his head back and laughed, dissolving my unease.

  ‘You think my life is boring?’ he asked, his eyes now glittering. ‘Well, wouldn’t you like to know…’ he said in a soft, low, singsong voice. Then he laughed again. ‘Wouldn’t you like to know.’

  I smiled. His laughter was infectious. ‘I would like to know, actually.’

  We shared silence for about a minute before Blake stood up, kicked his chair back and climbed a ladder leaning against his house. He motioned for me to follow him up to the roof.

  The view was spectacular. I could see the darkness below us, spreading towards the glittering city like a creeping fog. I could just make out the castle: a pale, menacing mirage lording over the city.

  ‘Over there.’ Blake pointed to the Colosseum, splendid, white and beaming with light crystals. My arms prickled with goosebumps at the memory of Robbie being chased by thrashing sharks.

  ‘So you come up here and watch people get thrown into the Colosseum for thrills?’

  He sighed and clucked his tongue, as though he had no patience for my stupidity. ‘No, Miranda. Think. What would I do for thrills—something that involves the Colosseum?’

  I shook my head. He wouldn’t be stupid enough to enter the tank himself, surely.

  He stared out at the lights. ‘I have nothing to live for and nothing to die for. I’m a man hovering on the brink of nothing and something. So I dare myself at least once a week to fall into something. I walk on the edge.’ His voice wavered and I thought a look of sadness passed over his face, but when I looked again it was gone.

  ‘You walk the edge of the tank?’

  He stared ahead. ‘It’s my Sunday-morning mass.’

  ‘Have you ever fallen?’

  ‘No. But I hope to one day.’

  I stared at him for a long time, kind of wishing I knew his life story.

  ‘You’re crazy, do you know that?’

  ‘Maybe,’ he said, and shrugged. ‘I was well known back home, up on land. And I started to hate it. I thought if I pretended to die everyone would eventually forget me. But after my ‘death’ I started to feel all this pain, and it brought me down, way lower than I’d ever felt—and I’d felt darkness before. But this was something else. So I thought, maybe I should just die for real.’ He licked his lips and stared at the distant city. ‘So on a stormy night, I dove into the ocean, let myself fall into the arms of nature…and I ended up here. Who would have fucking thought—a world underwater? Life can take you to some pretty strange places, Miranda.’ He shrugged and then returned his gaze to the Colosseum. ‘Who knows where the tank will take me?’

  ‘Um, to a shark’s belly?’ I covered my mouth with my hand, so he couldn’t see me smiling.

  ‘That’s deep, real deep,’ he said, with a grin, before starting down the ladder. ‘Come on; it’ll be dark in the city in a couple of hours. It’s time for you to head back.’

  As I climbed down the ladder, I realised I was wrong about him being crazy. He was a genius. Maybe I needed to fall into something and see where it took me. Ever since Mum and Dad had died, I’d spent most of my time trying to bring order to my life, trying to be ‘granddaughter’ because I couldn’t be ‘daughter’ anymore. But perhaps I wasn’t any of those roles; and perhaps, by coming to Marin, I was going to find out who I really was.

  ‘How long will Anne stay with you?’

  ‘I’ll keep her until it’s safe for her to go back and live with her family.’

  ‘When do you think that will be?’ I asked, as we weaved our way through the various rooms and corridors inside the mansion to get to Anne and Jonathan.

  Blake frowned at me from over his shoulder, as though I’d said something dumb. I felt like a student who’d disappointed her teacher.

  ‘I think you’ll know the answer to that sooner than I will, Miranda.’

  I didn’t have a clue. How would I know?

  Anne and Jonathan were clutched in an embrace when I entered, so I quickly tiptoed back out into the hallway to give them privacy.

  Blake was gone. I called out to him, but he didn’t answer.

  Jonathan suddenly appeared at the door. ‘Ready to leave, Miranda?’ he asked.

  ‘Yeah. I’ll just say goodbye to Anne.’

  He nodded and looked back at Anne. ‘I’ll come see you again tomorrow.’

  She beamed. ‘Bye Jonny, and thank you.’

  Jonathan blushed, cleared his throat and left the room.

  Anne waited until his footsteps faded before she gripped my hand and squeezed it, quite hard for somebody in her condition.

  ‘Miranda, I’ve got one more thing to tell you. Something important.’

  I nodded and sat down on the bed. ‘Okay. What is it?’

  ‘You have to warn your sister. She has to be careful. I’m disgusted now that I did all of those…awful things for Damir.’ She shook her head. ‘Please tell your sister to be careful. He has a way of ma
king you want to please him.’

  ‘My sister?’ I tugged my hand away and stood up. ‘Why would my sister need to be careful?’

  Anne stared at me for a long time before looking down and fiddling with the handkerchief she clutched in her other hand. ‘Once, when I wanted to see Damir, Sylvia said that he already had a visitor.’

  ‘Who was it?’ I asked, fearing the answer.

  Anne shrugged. ‘Lauren. But maybe Sylvia was lying.’

  ‘She must have been lying.’ I shook my head, unsure of what to make of this. Was this why Lauren’s head had been so full of lies the night of the ball?

  ‘Lauren knows Damir killed our friend Aiden. She knows what he did to me. She wouldn’t visit him in a thousand years.’

  ‘You’re right,’ Anne said, smiling up at me.

  I drew in a deep breath and forced a smile, though my face wanted to do anything but.

  ‘We’ll come back for you. Take care until then.’

  ‘I will.’

  Jonathan returned to the bedroom door.

  ‘Miranda, we have to leave now. It’s getting late. My apologies, Anne.’

  After Jonathan bent down to give Anne a peck on the cheek, perhaps his real reason for returning, we left the house.

  ‘How is Blake going to fend off Damir’s men if he sends them here looking for Anne?’

  Jonathan laughed, as though I’d said the most absurd thing.

  ‘Nobody comes to this house.’ He quickened his steps and I followed suit. ‘You want to know why?’

  ‘Yes.’ I panted between words as I tried to keep up. ‘Why?’

  ‘Each person who has lived in that mansion has died within the year. And it’s always been a particularly gruesome death—like a fork in the eye, or being burnt to death, or a festering, flesh-eating wound. It’s an old ghost story told by our parents. Blake is the only man crazy enough to live here. And he’s been here for forty years, still alive. Insane, maybe, but alive.’

  I smiled to myself as we set off through the darkness, towards the glittering lights of the city. It was just like Blake to live on the edge and dare himself to survive in a house that killed its owners gruesomely after only a year.

  ‘Move faster, Miranda,’ Jonathan said all of a sudden. ‘I have a bad feeling in my guts.’

  ‘So do I,’ I said, wondering how Marko and the entire city would respond when I spilled the beans on what Damir had done to Svetla and Anne. Perhaps he’d be sent to death once and for all, and the people of Marin would be safe again. How would Sylvia react? And, more importantly, Lauren, if what Anne said was true.

  I started to run, to keep up with Jonathan’s long strides, my heart racing even faster. And while I pounded my feet against the cold, hard stone beneath me, the fake wind battering my face, I came to a realisation.

  Everything would change from here on.

  I was about to do what Blake did each Sunday morning.

  I was about to balance on the brink and see what happened.

  CHAPTER NINETEEN

  ‘WHERE ARE YOU going? The castle’s this way,’ said Jonathan as we returned to the fringe of the city.

  ‘I need to see my sister,’ I said, my feet pounding the pavement. ‘You go. I’ll be fine now. I’ll catch a gondola to Robbie’s and back. People are everywhere. It’s safe.’

  Jonathan quickened his pace and turned around to block my path. I stopped, put my hands on my hips and took the opportunity to catch my breath. A group of women paused and studied us, their lips moving in a whisper.

  ‘You should return to the castle before it gets darker, Miranda. It’s bad enough I took you to the Underworld.’ He shook his head and swore. ‘I’ll be demoted for this, which is not good; Marko needs as many men like me on his side as possible.’

  My heart stuttered at the mention of Marko. It physically pained me not to be with him right now, with all this danger hanging over us both. But I needed to see Lauren first. I had to make sure the man she’d been meeting hadn’t been Damir.

  ‘Anne told me to warn Lauren to be careful. She said that Lauren had been visiting Damir in the dungeons.’

  He sighed and seized my hand, and started towards the nearby embankment.

  ‘Okay. I’ll take you to see your sister and see you back home, to your room.’

  ‘So you think my sister could actually be seeing Damir?’ I asked, breathlessly, as we both climbed into a waiting gondola.

  ‘You know her better than I do.’

  She was my sister. I was supposed to know her. But why the sinking of my stomach—as though I believed what Anne had said?

  The gondolier dug his pole into the dark, murky water and pushed the boat forward. The entire city was alive and glittering against the false night.

  ‘Miranda, you’re pale,’ said Jonathan, but his voice sounded far away, as though he was a mile away and not sharing the same gondola as me.

  ‘Can’t this thing go any faster?’ I said, running a clawed hand through my hair. When I looked at the twenty-something man poling the water with all his might, his face red, sweat dripping down his chest to dampen his shirt, I felt bad. ‘Sorry. I’m being an impatient jerk,’ I muttered.

  Jonathan sighed and continued to flex and un-flex his hands into fists. ‘No more impatient than me. We have to make it a quick visit with your sister. Find out what you need to know, and then we’re out of there.’ He sighed and shook his head, his eyes downcast. ‘I’m worried for Marko.’

  So was I, and by the time we arrived at Robbie’s cottage, I was a complete knotted-up ball of nerves, anxiousness and a little bit of rage. Did Lauren even know how much danger she was in? It made me so mad that she always made decisions based on her whims without considering the impact on those around her.

  I knocked, and heard furniture scrape behind the door.

  ‘Who is it?’ Robbie called.

  ‘It’s me, Miranda—and Jonathan.’

  ‘Stone,’ Jonathan said. ‘It’s Jonny Stone, Robbie.’

  ‘Come in!’ said Robbie, rather enthusiastically. He and Jonathan must have been good friends. He swung the door open and stood back to allow us through.

  Jonathan stepped back to allow me first.

  ‘Miranda! Great to have you here,’ said Robbie, nearly shouting. For a second I was confused as to why he was speaking so loud.

  But then I heard the noises.

  From the back of the cottage, the sound of a bed squeaking rhythmically, and of low groans and muffled laughter, drifted down the hallway and into the kitchen where we stood. To say my face was burning was an understatement. I could have started a fire with it. The laughter belonged to Lauren and a man—a man who sounded like Marko. Cold fear trickled down my spine. It had to be Damir. The bed squeaked again, followed by another, even louder groan.

  ‘Robbie! Great to see you!’ said Jonathan, over-the-top loud, before his face reddened at the realisation he’d used the word ‘see’ in front of a half-blind man.

  ‘Long-time no see, hey?’ said Robbie, grinning, before reaching out in front of him until he found his friend. The two men hugged and whacked each other across their broad backs, as strong blokes do, before drawing apart and talking extra loud about the greenhouses, what Robbie was growing and how the butterflies were coming along.

  It was odd seeing Robbie, who was both tall and muscular, looking almost small next to Jonathan’s massive height and bulk.

  The bed squeaks increased, and the air between the three of us grew extra awkward. Robbie began to fiddle with pots and pans in his cupboards.

  ‘I’ll make coffee!’ he said.

  ‘Thanks! I love coffee!’

  Jonathan cleared his throat. ‘I’m going to stand outside and keep guard…err…in case…um, I don’t know.’ His face glowed red as he slipped out the door.

  ‘It’s from Italy!’ said Robbie.

  ‘What?’ Oh, the coffee. ‘Really? Which part of Italy?’ I covered my ears with my hands.

  The bed squ
eaks were soon joined by loud banging against the wall.

  Robbie threw the coffee pot back into the cupboard. ‘Changed my mind. Let’s get out of here.’

  ‘Should we go visit the greenhouses?’ I shouted.

  ‘Sounds like a good plan!’

  Robbie slammed the door behind us, reached out for the wall and, with his hands groping the bricks, walked.

  ‘How long has Lauren’s visitor been here?’

  The muscles in Robbie’s jaw tightened.

  ‘Too long. He arrived this morning and they’ve been…’ he paused, his cheeks tinting pink, ‘at it in that room all day.’

  ‘Do you know who he is or what he looks like?’

  Robbie paused. ‘Let me see, he had blond hair, green eyes and—’

  I winced.

  ‘Sorry. I didn’t think…’

  Robbie smiled. ‘Don’t be sorry. I’m just teasing. I did catch a glimpse of pale hair.’

  ‘Oh.’ Maybe Damir was using a wig. ‘Is your leg okay?’

  Robbie nodded, smiling wide. ‘It’s fine. The fall was nothing.’ I tried not to think about what Lauren had said, about Robbie crying in the kitchen the morning after the ball.

  Halfway along the cottage wall, Robbie stopped and turned slightly before walking directly towards the greenhouses. Jonathan was standing near the first one, talking to the man who worked with Robbie.

  ‘He sounds a little like Marko,’ Robbie started to say, ‘but don’t worry, Miranda, it isn’t him. His name is Gerard.’

  ‘Gerard? I haven’t heard of him.’

  ‘He must be one of the new recruits.’

  Robbie reached out until he found my hand and gave it a squeeze. I squeezed it back. ‘Don’t worry, Miranda. When we return from the greenhouses I’m kicking him out, and I’ll make sure he doesn’t return.’

  ‘Thanks,’ I said, giving his hand another squeeze. ‘I’m sorry my sister is causing you so much trouble. She had it tough after Mum and Dad died, and then I went missing on her last year…’ I shrugged.

  He smiled and let my hand fall away. ‘She’s lucky to have you. So is Marko.’

  ‘Robbie—’

  ‘Miranda!’ It was Jonathan, staring up at the ocean sky with a frown. ‘We need to leave, now.’