We Who Hunt the Hollow, page 17
‘You think not? She’s one of the senior warriors who control everything. A self-appointed judge, jury and executioner. Who watches over them? Who holds them accountable? Who could ever stop her?’
‘She wouldn’t do that to me. I trust her. They took your power off you because you’re a Renegade. Geema’s already told me they won’t take mine. I asked her. She knows what I can do, and she trusted me to figure it out myself. There’s a warrior in Vienna called Arnold Woo who has the same power and I’ll do my training with him. He still has his power, and I’ll keep mine. I’m not a Renegade. I don’t believe what you believe.’ I can hear the frantic edge to my own voice.
‘Maybe you should, though.’ He pauses. ‘It’s true, Arnold Woo does have the same power. But Arnold is their little pet. A puppet the senior warriors control. They have him to do their bidding, which means anyone else who can do the same things as him is expendable. A risk they won’t allow. Having that power made me a threat to them and they were always going to take it off me, regardless of what I believed. It will be the same for you. That is how the system really works, Priscilla. They neutralise threats – and you are a threat to them, just as much as I was.’
‘She’s my grandmother.’
‘She’s also a senior warrior, before anything else. You know that. And do you know what else is in Vienna? A guild prison. The very hellhole they locked me up in.’
I rub my hands over my pyjama-covered knees. Has Geema been lying to me? My mothers? I don’t know anything about Arnold Woo. I haven’t heard of him before. And Bastian is right. There is a guild prison in the Vienna base. And my grandmother is a hardened warrior, down to her bones. Prepared to do what is required of her.
And despite what she said, I know she is capable of taking my power away from me.
Of course, Bastian could be the one who’s lying. He’s been sidestepping the truth this entire time.
I know the guild rules with an iron fist. It’s necessary: Geema has drilled that into me since I was a child. Necessary to ensure we don’t slide back to the horrors of the Fires, when the Hollow first tore into our world. She has always said we live a hair’s-breadth from disaster. That without the guild, the world would be chaos, at the mercy of the Hollow and its monsters.
Her other stories might be prone to embellishment. But this time, I have to believe her. He is the threat. The Renegades are. Not me. ‘We need the guild. It’s how we protect our world.’
‘It’s how the senior warriors protect themselves. Have you looked up this power in the database? There’s nothing there. Do you know anything about it? No. Because they control it. Because they own it – not the warrior who wields it.
‘You’re still wearing your blindfold, Priscilla. You’ve been brought up as a sheep in the herd, content to be ordinary when you really are extraordinary. You are marvellous. Can’t you see that? We are treated like commodities when we ought to be treated like gods. Restricted, and forced to train like minions, like pawns. Stripped of our powers should we merely whisper disagreement or refuse to join their ranks. Lorded over by the senior warriors, that little cabal who select and protect their own. And then, if we’re finally allowed to become warriors, we are sent out to be slaughtered in the defence of humans, without care, without thanks, and without rewards. We are mere tools. It is wrong. We should not die for them.’
Die for them. It occurs to me that if he is a Hollow Warrior, then his parents likely would’ve been too. His parents, who died in a terrible accident he said shouldn’t have happened.
‘Is that what happened to your parents?’ I whisper. Is that the source of his dark anger, the wellspring for his fury? Is it retribution he wants?
A muscle twitches in his jaw. ‘They died in the field, that’s all you need to know. That’s all in the past. I am focused on the future. A future I want you to be a part of.’
It’s not retribution he wants.
It’s me.
He wants me to join them – to become a Renegade. I wonder if he was the one who sent me that flyer. If those are his words I keep coming back to. A future you can own. Except he’s demanding it at gunpoint. Trying to force-march me to that little house he spoke about. The future he painted is starting to look quite different now.
‘You said we’d go away together. A house in the forest.’ I don’t mean to say it out loud. I don’t mean to sound so hurt.
‘Of course. We have to build our army somewhere,’ he replies. ‘My queen.’
I hate how tenderly he says it.
I hate how, despite everything he’s just done, I can’t help wondering about that future. Part of me aches for that dream, and for the freedom I could taste in it – freedom from the expectations I can never meet, from the crushing weight of my own inadequacy.
I could be someone special.
I understand that temptation.
When I look at Bastian, I can see he’s full of pain. I would be too, if my mothers had died and I’d had my power taken away and been excommunicated. It was enough to drive him to kidnap me and Onyeka, and to hurt us. What could I be driven to do, if I’d lived the same life and lost the same things?
When I saw Rafael Purbrook lying in our holding cell, I wondered why he’d made the choices he did. Perhaps Rafael and I aren’t so different after all. Perhaps this is how he started his journey – with an ache for a dream.
‘It’s time to choose your future, Priscilla. You can remain with the herd, little sheep, and have them lock you up and take away your familiar and your power. Become ordinary and forgettable and abandoned. Or you can come with me and have everything. Be everything. In your deep-down soul, isn’t that what you’ve always wanted? Majestic power. A position of great command. They’ll talk about you for generations to come: Priscilla, the Renegade Queen who led the way into a new world.’ He’s leaning towards me, eyes shining, energised by the picture he’s painting me.
The future I’d once dreamed of. The future that my secret heart still sings for. Keep my power, become a queen! A future I can own.
I’d told him I wanted more time to think. Now I have no option, and must decide right now between my heritage or my heart’s desire. Can I tip from temptation to treason, like Rafael Purbrook? Or am I destined to remain who I am?
I’ve always been Priscilla Daalman. I don’t know if I can turn my back on that. On my family. All those dreams I had – they were always as a Daalman. The incredible power I’d wanted was so I could take my place in the family legacy.
Imagine giving up Mama as leader of my division. Giving up learning from Lydia’s brutal and efficient warcraft. Not being inspired by the stories of Cheryl’s adventures. Not getting any more unprompted advice from Jet. Not witnessing my nieces receiving their powers, joining the fold. Never again being mistaken for my clever sister Didi.
Never having Geema squeeze my shoulder and tell me I did well.
I can’t do it. It’s too much to give up. Too much of myself belongs to my family, even if I’ve never felt like I fit in with them. Being a Daalman is what’s woven right into my deep-down soul.
So maybe Geema will end up taking away my power. Maybe I will end up as a norm like Bastian promised, like I’ve feared. But today, I choose my family. When it comes down to it, I always will. It turns out they are what matters most to me.
I will always be a Daalman. I can never be anyone else.
‘I can’t leave them,’ I whisper to him.
His expression shuts down immediately. He looks aside, nostrils flaring as he sucks in a tight breath. ‘Fine.’
‘I’m sorry.’ Maybe part of me truly is sorry, too. That soft twist to his mouth. The grief I know he’s felt. I’d give him what he wanted ... if I could. ‘Please, can I go. Please, can Onyeka and I go now.’
‘Ha.’ He clears his throat. ‘I didn’t expect to have to do this, but here we are. No. You may not. Not until I have what I want.’
‘Bastian, I can’t walk away from my family, I –’
‘I mean your power.’
I freeze. What?
‘You can manipulate Hollow energy, which means you can give me your power. I cannot wait for you any longer. The world is going to change – the new warrior order is coming. If you will not be a part of it, then you must give your power to me instead. I will be a better caretaker of it anyway.
‘I need my abilities back, Priscilla. That’s why I’m here. I knew your family had an oath of power ceremony coming up – a fresh little thirteen-year-old to join the ranks of dutiful pawns. So I knew the Daalmans would be getting their talismans out. And I thought how apt it would be to steal the Daalman talismans and use them to try to get my own power back. Even if it hadn’t worked, I would still have struck into the heart of the family that destroyed my life. Here I was, in this awful city, in this awful weather, wondering how I might break into that fortress of an apartment ... steal those bone orbs ... and then I found out about you. Posting secret messages for all the world to see about how powerful you truly are. And you had no idea. No idea at all!’
It hits me like a slap in the face: this is what he wanted all along. To steal our talismans. To use them to try gaining his power back, to try turning that filament of almost energy into full power again.
I scowl. ‘So I was what, collateral? A stepping stone to your real agenda?’
‘No, Priscilla,’ he whispers. ‘You were a delightful surprise. Once I knew about you, I didn’t need the orbs. You were meant to choose me. Take that damned blindfold off and stand beside me. Nobody will ever want you the way I want you. But you’re refusing to free yourself – and so we’ve come down to this.’
My mind is racing. With his full power returned, what will he be capable of? Without it, he’s lied to me. Kidnapped me and Onyeka. Stunned her. Hurt me. I don’t know the true depths of his anger or beliefs. How far will he go if he has this terrifyingly strong power to wield too?
He will go too far. You cannot give it to him, Mouse hisses in my mind.
I look back at the floater, sitting under the ragged hole in the warehouse roof. Onyeka is inside, so she’ll be somewhat protected if I summon something and lose control. I take a deep breath, my mind sorting through the bestiary of monsters. Grues. If I bring in some grues, then –
‘Don’t,’ Bastian says coldly. He’s picked up something, some kind of small box. ‘My choice of parking spot was no accident. Beneath that floater is a bomb, and this here is the detonator. You’re going to transfer your power to me. It is a very rare gift and I will be so delighted to have it ... have it back. Have what’s supposed to be mine. You can be assured that I will be a much better owner than you. And if you refuse, then I will blow up the floater – and your girl inside it too. Simple, no? You want to be responsible for her death? You want that blood on your hands?’
A chill crawls over my skin. This is what he is capable of. I have no doubt he is not bluffing.
When a warrior loses their power, they lose their familiar. If I give him my power, I will lose Mouse. But if I don’t ...
Stall him, Mouse says, urgency in her tiny mind-voice.
‘There has to be another way, Bastian.’
‘No. You chose this way. And now you have your next choice. Fire and blood; or give me your power.’ He lifts the detonator. ‘Those are your options.’
I can’t stall him. I sense the knowledge in Mouse, too. He is as fanatical as Geema said the Renegades were, and he is done waiting for me to become the same.
It won’t be the end of you, my familiar says firmly. Onyeka is right. You’re more than your power. Reach inside and find that knowledge, Priscilla. Find yourself, and know yourself to be whole and perfect the way you are.
‘But it will be the end of y–’
‘I wouldn’t have thought this would be so hard a decision.’ Bastian’s thumb hovers above a button on top of the small box.
It’s okay. I forgive you.
‘I can’t.’
‘We’ve talked about this long enough. If you want to walk out of here with your girl, then do it. Now!’ Bastian commands.
Over in the floater, Onyeka is finally stirring. Lifting her head, a hand rising to her neck. A muffled whimper floats through the dusty air.
Bastian’s thumb touches the top of the button.
‘Mouse,’ I say, my voice cracking. This is happening too fast.
It’s okay. You need to do this for her. I love you. Whiskers tickle the back of my neck. It’s okay, Priscilla.
‘I’m sorry.’ I close my eyes, spilling hot tears down my cheeks. I reach for that other sense inside me, and it’s like when I tried to give my power back to the Hollow, when I thought it was only a secondary power. Before I knew it was mine.
I spin it out of me and direct it to the traitor facing me.
The caramel and cinders go in a rush, whirling out of me and leaving only a tiny grain of sand behind.
It is gone.
I blink. There’s a heavy numb silence in my mind.
Mouse is gone too.
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
Bastian yelps and kicks back, falling out of the chair.
I don’t know what’s happening. My mind’s stuffed with cotton wool where once I could listen, could taste, could see. Did it work? It must have. My power is utterly gone, and Bastian is twisting on the floor.
Oh. I’m waiting for Mouse to tell me to go.
Mouse. My heart splinters inside my chest. For almost five years she’s been my constant companion, and now she is nothing, her spirit unmade and her energy returned to the Hollow. I’m never going to hear her voice in my mind again – her gentle encouragement, her reminders to be careful, her prim judgement. I am alone with my thoughts, waiting for someone to speak who no longer exists.
With a sob, I push out of the chair, trying to think of what else Mouse would yell at me to do.
I should get the detonator. He could have been lying again, and I don’t trust him not to kill Onyeka, kill us both. I have to get us out of here, or Mouse will be gone for nothing.
Bastian’s arching backwards on the concrete floor, as if receiving my power is hurting him. I hope it is. I hope it doesn’t work. I reach down and rip the detonator out of his hand. As I do, a hare tumbles into existence out of thin air. It bares long yellow teeth at me.
I run for the floater on wobbly legs.
‘Priscilla?’ Onyeka croaks as I fall onto the seat next to her. ‘What’s going on?’
She’s talking. She’s going to be okay. We’re both going to be okay.
‘Hold on.’ I punch the controls and the engines roar, kicking up dust as the floater rises, bursting through the hole in the roof into wild, wet wind. I use the verbal command set to order the autopilot home on the fastest flightline it can take.
‘Are you all right, do you feel all right?’ I say in a rush. I touch her hands, her cheeks, push the pink scarf aside so I can check the marks on her neck.
Onyeka is crying. ‘Who was that guy?’
I’m crying too. I got Onyeka hurt. I gave away Mouse and my power. Not that long ago I’d thought summoning bitterlins was a terrible thing to do, and now look where I am. Now look what I’ve caused.
‘I don’t know,’ I say. ‘He’s not who I thought he was. Will you come back to our place? He knows where you live.’
‘Priscilla. Is he dangerous?’
‘Yes.’ I pause. The words are hard to say. ‘He has an extraordinary power now. I gave it to him.’
I message Mama on the way, although I don’t tell her all the details. Only that there’s been an incident and I’m bringing Onyeka to our apartment because she needs protection. My family is waiting in the garage when the floater slides in. I can’t look at any of them as I help Onyeka out. Her legs buckle when she tries to stand, and Fergus comes to her other side to support her.
He’s only a particularly tall guy to me now. I can’t taste that hint of cardamom. Can’t taste anything. This isn’t like wearing the dampener. My power was still there then, just out of reach. Now there is a void inside me. I am empty, and terrifyingly alone in my own mind.
Everyone is silent as we hustle out of the garage and up the stairs. Fergus helps lower Onyeka onto a couch in the sitting room, and then I realise my legs are about to give out too. I slump down next to her, overcome with a thick, shaky shock. A thumping ache pinches in my forehead.
The absence of Mouse is an icy hole above my shoulder.
I finally lift my face to my family, crowded around us.
They’re waiting for me to tell them what happened and I don’t know where to begin. Maybe I need to start with my oath of power ceremony, back when I was thirteen. Back when I first realised I would end up disappointing them in the worst possible way.
‘I’m sorry,’ I say.
‘Whatever for? Priscilla, what happened? Why do we need to protect Onyeka?’ Mama’s voice is tight with worry. ‘Are you both all right? Where is the dampener? Do we need to organise a hunt – are there more monsters out there?’
Oh, of course. She sees the dampener gone and thinks I summoned something. This is so much worse, Mama. I shake my head.
‘My darling ... where is Mouse?’ Geema asks quietly.
I glance at the familiars clustered behind my family. They’re watching me with unblinking animal eyes, ears perked. They all knew, the moment I got back, that one of their own was missing. Geema probably noticed right away too.
‘She’s gone.’ My voice breaks, a fracture in the dam holding my emotions in. ‘I … I gave her away. He was going to hurt Onyeka and I couldn’t let him so I had to do what he said.’
‘Who?’ Geema says.
So I tell them about Bastian. How I thought he was a fan when I met him in the mall. How we went on a couple of dates. I can’t look at Onyeka, but I feel her stiffen beside me. I’m hurting her all over again.
Mouse isn’t here to tell me off for not listening to my familiar in the first place. I didn’t like that guy. She would’ve got a real kick out of being so right.
I tell them how I went to see Onyeka in the middle of the night, and how Bastian kidnapped us.
