Darkhaven, page 10
I was no more prepared for the noise the second time: a plane taking off, truck reverse signals beeping and men shouting commands. The sounds rose like a wave in my head, blotting out any ability to think or focus or breathe. I pressed my hands over my ears.
On the third round – people screaming and sirens wailing and babies crying – I slid out of my chair and curled into a ball on the floor. Donovan pulled me up, her fingers digging into my arm.
‘I shouldn’t let you go home,’ she observed.
I stared at her, taking in her muscled physique, light hazel eyes and sharp chin. Her jaw was tight.
‘I’m going home,’ I said, trying to inject some strength into my voice. ‘That’s the deal.’
‘The deal is you have to be better at this than just about anyone else.’
I slumped in my chair. Screw posture. ‘Are we doing it again?’
Donovan turned off the stereo. ‘I don’t think you can take it.’
I wanted to argue. I wanted to get it right, prove that I could do this. I looked at her ice-firm face and instead swallowed my anger and embarrassment. Donovan opened one of her desk drawers and riffled through the neatly filed CD collection inside. She handed me a disk in a blank cover.
‘Guided meditation and mindfulness techniques. Do it every day.’
‘Thanks.’ I tried to sound grateful, but I couldn’t keep the surliness out of my voice.
Donovan opened the door. ‘Stephen will meet you out the front.’
Her office door closed with a snap behind me, leaving me trembling and alone in the hallway.
Thankfully, Stephen thought my intuitive sense would be important for his rescue plan, which meant I didn’t have to see Donovan every afternoon. Tuesdays and Thursdays would be spent in her office, a place I quickly came to loathe. Mondays were mine because Alex insisted on one evening a week with me, and he threatened to take care of my tutor if I wasn’t allowed a night off. That left Wednesdays and Fridays with Liam, working on intuition.
The first Wednesday, the day after my disastrous session with Donovan, I was apprehensive. Stephen cast worried glances at me as we arrived at Darkhaven, but I kept my mouth shut. I didn’t want him to renege on our arrangement and lock me up here or file a death certificate.
Liam was almost the total opposite of Donovan. He wasn’t as fit, tanned or muscular as Donovan or Stephen, but he still had an almost unexpected beauty to his softer features, and the same perfect teeth and unblemished skin. It was like that rare photograph that caught your best angle in a flattering light and made you think, wow, I look good. That was Praegressus. No matter how you were built, what shape your nose or chin or cheekbones were, you were beautiful. I wondered if that was how I would look to other people soon. Then I remembered Cecelia and Zenna’s teasing at the cafe – a day I had tried to block out of my memory – and figured I was probably starting to look different already. It was unsettling.
To my surprise, Liam didn’t usher me into his office, but led me down the corridor and out the door to the patio. We continued across the clearing and down a little dirt path through the bush until we came to a small pergola draped in climbing white and purple blooms. Inside was a little wrought-iron table with four matching chairs, and on the table sat a small pot containing a plant showing an exquisite purple flower. A birdbath stood next to one of the pergola pillars.
Liam pulled up one of the ornate chairs, gesturing for me to sit. He still hadn’t said a word. He breathed deeply, and without intending to, I found myself doing the same. The scent was heavenly. I didn’t normally care much for nature or gardens, but this was an oasis in the concrete-and-stainless-steel world that was Darkhaven. If anything, the rest of the olive-grey Australian bush surrounding it added to the austerity of the place.
‘Do you know any of the flowers here?’ Liam’s voice was quiet, with an almost melodic inflection.
‘Jasmine,’ I said. ‘My friend wears a jasmine perfume. It’s the white one, right?’ I pointed at a vine twining up the pergola.
Liam nodded. ‘The other one is false sarsaparilla, or purple coral pea. This,’ he indicated the pot, ‘is a sun orchid. They come in a lot of varieties. I won’t trouble you with the botanical names.’ He gave me an enquiring look. ‘Am I telling the truth?’
‘Of course,’ I answered, confused. He kept peering at me, macchiato eyes under a creased brow. I paused, feeling into the situation, into my gut. He was being honest, but there was more. It was a bit like talking to Flamebeard, just before he launched into a passionate monologue about the inner workings of the nervous system or something. ‘But you want to tell me the botanical names, even though you know I, uh, am not really into botany.’
‘Aha! Very good.’
‘So that was a test?’
He chuckled. ‘No, just a curiosity. I think you have a good sense for whether someone is being truthful with you.’
I shrugged. ‘I guess so. I think I always have.’
‘That’s usually how these things go. Ever known something was going to happen, just before it did?’
I considered. ‘I don’t remember anything specific. But I usually have a feeling if something is, like, a good idea or not, like some nights it’s not safe to walk home in the evening. And sometimes I know things in Human Biology or English, without really knowing how I know. It’s just right. Dad’ – I felt another pang of betrayal – ‘said once that I was highly intuitive, but I can’t be. I can’t make a decision to save myself. And if I was … I would have known he’d turn me in.’ I bit my lip. ‘I’m not sure why I’m telling you this.’
Liam opened his hands, palms up. ‘Why are you telling me then?’
I thought about it. ‘Because I know I can trust you.’
He smiled warmly. ’Sometimes, our intuition works against us. We get so used to relying on it for little things – how much milk to add to a batter, whether a plant is suited to a particular spot, how a friend will react to some news – that we take those nudges for granted. When the time comes to make a major decision, we expect it to do something it doesn’t do. If we have all these small, accurate feelings for small situations, we think the bigger problem warrants a bigger feeling. We want a symbol, an unmistakable sign that what we are about to do is right. We stop paying attention to the little signals our body and spirit are sending us.′ He rested his elbows on the table, interlacing his fingers. ‘There are two things that can mask your intuition. Any idea what they are?’
‘Fear,’ I answered, automatically, then stopped myself, wondering why I’d said that.
Liam laughed, the sound gentle like a tinkling water fountain. ‘You see! The other?’
My brain went blank. I shook my head.
Liam smiled. ‘The very idea of fear is enough to stop the process. The other one is love. Again, counter-intuitive. Intuition comes from a place of calm, which you would think is love. It is not. Intuition is value-neutral. It doesn’t care one way or the other what you think of the situation. Humans place judgements like “good” or “bad” on things. Intuition, at its core, is simply knowing what is. Love is the least value-neutral thing of all. And fear is really just the risk of losing love.’
He paused, looking thoughtful, then continued, voice a little softer. ‘Don’t blame yourself about your father. You love him. You wouldn’t have wanted to have seen that coming, and if you had, you couldn’t have believed it. We can’t easily sense things that are very close to us, like family. It’s the same for my clairvoyance.’
My eyes prickled, but to my surprise, I wasn’t embarrassed. I traced my finger around the edge of the ceramic flowerpot and blinked slowly, letting the tears trickle down my cheeks. We sat in silence for a few moments. Water splashed nearby and I looked up to see a tiny, bright blue bird playing in the birdbath.
‘A splendid fairy-wren,’ Liam said. ‘Stephen’s favourite.’
‘What’s yours?’
He smiled. ‘Black cockatoos.’
We watched the fairy-wren splash in the shallow water, then perch on the edge of the bath and fluff its electric-blue feathers out. After a minute of preening, it hopped down and flitted over to a banksia tree.
For the next hour, Liam spoke at length about managing and controlling emotions. It sounded similar to what Donovan wanted me to do, but it was a lot easier to imagine being in control out here, in the peaceful surrounds of the pergola. Liam also set me homework, asking me to start a journal of times when I automatically answered questions, or sensed something I had no conscious knowledge of. I left that afternoon feeling a lot more hopeful about my chances of surviving in the outside world.
Chapter 12
Secret Wafer Stash
Donovan crushed those hopes the next day. I might have quit, but I had alternating sessions with Liam to balance out the trauma of being in her office, and I was determined to succeed at infiltrating the Taskforce and finding Luci.
‘I understand you’ve been practising mindfulness.’
Liam and I sat under the pergola on Friday afternoon. I’d bailed on my regular TV binge night with Cecelia and Zenna, promising to make it up to them soon without any real idea as to when. I shifted on my chair, not meeting Liam’s gaze.
‘No?’
I looked at him, disappointment welling in my gut. ‘Donovan gave me a CD. My laptop doesn’t even have a CD drive.’
‘And you didn’t ask her for a different format?’
I shook my head, kicking myself for being so stubborn. I could have said I wanted something else. I could have looked it up online, found a download or something. But it was Donovan. I hadn’t been about to make her job easier.
‘I didn’t realise it was for your lessons. I’m sorry.’
Liam frowned, his brow crinkling. Then he sighed and leaned back. ‘You have many questions.’ He said it simply, without the judgement I felt from Donovan. I mentally reached for my list of questions I’d been too embarrassed to ask anyone else.
‘Is that okay? I can’t concentrate, and I’m kind of sucking at everything.’
Liam laughed. ‘It is your first week. Ask away.’ He waved his hand in invitation.
‘So am I invincible? Immortal? Undying? What is this?’
‘None of those things. But there’s not a lot left on this world that could kill you. Total decapitation would do it. The Taskforce have a specialised bullet that will kill us if we’re hit in the heart or the brain. We now know, thanks to you, that they also have a tranquilliser that works. As for old age, we don’t know, it hasn’t been long enough. Donovan is the oldest. She seems to age, but far more slowly than a normal person, and there’s no sign of degenerative disease. Catherine thinks our lifespans now will be in the high hundreds.’
‘And I have superhuman stuff, like strength and speed? How does that work? I don’t feel faster or stronger.’
Liam reached into his pocket, pulled out a pen and threw it at my face.
‘Hey!’ I caught it.
‘Would you have caught that before?’
Probably not. I wasn’t exactly made for ball sports. ‘Maybe.’
‘Your reflexes are faster. You’ll be a bit stronger than you were. You won’t develop illness from poor lifestyle choices. But you still have to train if you want a big improvement. Same goes for your other abilities. You have a knack for intuition, but you have to practice it.’
‘How do you know?’
He tilted his head. ‘I can see it. The way you move. The questions you ask.’
Pity, I thought, I hadn’t had this on-tap intuition before I came to Darkhaven. I supposed it was something since I didn’t think any amount of magical enhancement or gym workouts would improve my athletic abilities much.
‘Okay. What does Darkhaven do?’
Liam leaned back in his chair, which puzzled me, since the chairs were straight-backed, wrought-iron things that dug into my butt no matter how I arranged myself.
‘Research, mostly. I think Stephen is the best person to ask.’
I huffed. ‘Will he tell me?’
A little gleam came into Liam’s eyes. ‘Pay attention, and you’ll know which questions to ask and when. Now, I’d like you to try a mindfulness exercise. Ignore the pain in your buttocks and focus on this flower.’ He indicated the purple orchid in the centre of the table. I bit back the comment I’d been about to make on how the chair dug into my butt.
‘Notice everything about the orchid. Think of nothing else. What does it look like? What would it feel like if you touched it? Touch its leaf and notice the sensation. Does it have a sound?’
We spent the rest of the afternoon on similar focus exercises. I tried to keep my mind on task, but it was boring work. Keraun kept invading my thoughts. And how to keep this secret from my best friends. Even the English essay popped up at one point. I cheated a bit and started focusing on Liam’s voice instead, finding it a bit easier to pay attention to the words as he instructed me on things I should be noticing. What did I feel in my body? In my muscles? What emotions was I experiencing? Just notice. Don’t react.
Boredom. Don’t react.
Dad drifted to the forefront of my mind. Anxiety. Don’t react.
A kookaburra burst into raucous laughter. I pounded the table with my fist, almost sending the orchid flying. Liam steadied the pot, decided that was enough for one day and set me more homework.
Two weeks later – three weeks since my Event – I couldn’t put my friends off any longer. They were already suspicious, and after their comments about me at the Shack, I didn’t want to have to fend off any more awkward questions. Fortunately, just being a Year 12 and taking ATAR classes excused most behaviour. It was kind of appalling how much I could brush off as exam stress.
Dad was still away, which wasn’t unusual in itself, and I relaxed slightly about the Taskforce hiding around every corner. I convinced Cecelia that a TV-and-pizza night at Alex’s on Sunday would be beneficial for her mental state and might even help her studying ability, then called Zenna.
‘So we are still friends?’ she asked, pretending to be joking. I could hear the hidden hurt in her voice.
‘Zenna, I’m not spending my free evenings with a tutor for fun. I’m really sorry. But it’s just until exams. And I want you to come.’
‘You won’t even spend a lunch break with me.’ Her voice took on a less-veiled edge, part threat, part anguish. I’d been spending most lunchtimes in the library. I snuck Iced VoVos and Life Savers in and tried to study to keep Cecelia company. She no longer seemed to need food and instead found nourishment in textbooks and pencil dust.
‘I’m sorry. But exams only happen once. I have to do this. There’s no way I have a future as a filmmaker.’
Zenna laughed. ‘Okay.’
‘Okay, you’re coming over?’
‘Okay, I’m coming over. But you’re providing the Maltesers. And if Cecelia even mentions a chemical element or anything about trigonometry, I’m going to eat all of her pizza.’
Alex ordered pizzas from Harrys and left us in the cinema room with copious Maltesers, M&Ms and Snickers Pods. We munched through the bags and watched four episodes of Stranger Things before Cecelia seized the remote and turned off the screen.
‘It’s a school night,’ she said. Zenna and I moaned.
‘Just one more,’ I pleaded. ‘Sunday doesn’t count.’
Cecelia shrugged. ‘You can watch it without me,’ she said, gathering her phone and jumper and clambering out of her bean bag.
‘Come on, we wouldn’t do that,’ Zenna said.
‘Are you sure you don’t want to sleep over?’ I asked. ‘Alex can take us all to school in the morning.’ Zenna had already arranged to stay the night.
‘Thanks, but I have to study.’ Cecelia started stuffing her things into her bag.
Zenna looked up from hunting in the empty Pod bag for a stray. ‘What, now? It’s, like, nine p.m.’
‘I can get a few hours in.’
‘You’re crazy,’ Zenna said, tossing the Pod bag aside. She drained her cola and gave me a conspiratorial glance. ‘How about Monopoly?’
I grinned. Trump card.
‘Not without me!’ Cecelia flung her bag back down. Monopoly was her favourite game. She usually won. All thoughts of leaving abandoned, she jumped on the couch.
‘Just one hour,’ she said, sending a text to Nancy.
Zenna smirked. ‘Two.’
I went to fetch the board game. On my way back, I found Zenna in the kitchen. Alex was holed up in his office, giving us the run of the apartment. Zenna emerged from the pantry, holding a bottle of port. Alex didn’t drink; the port was a gift that had been sitting in the pantry for the past two years.
‘Do you think he’ll mind?’ she asked, a cheeky gleam in her eye.
I felt into the calm, intuitive place Liam had taught me to reach, ignoring his admonishments about using my intuition for good. I didn’t think Alex would mind. Much.
I grinned back at Zenna and grabbed three glasses from the cupboard. ‘Let’s do it,’ I said, making a show of tiptoeing back to the cinema room.
Cecelia’s look of horror was priceless. ‘It’s a school night!’ she hissed, as if the mere presence of the bottle would magically enable Alex to hear us. He couldn’t. The door was shut and his office was at the other end of the apartment. I could hear him, though, typing on his laptop.
‘Exactly,’ Zenna said. ‘It’s Monday tomorrow, so we should take pre-emptive action against the worst day of the week.’
‘You two go ahead,’ Cecelia said. ‘I still have homework to do. There are a bunch of carbon chemistry equations I still haven’t got my head around.’
Zenna gave me a dark look. ‘She’s lucky she’s already eaten her pizza. I’ll have her wine instead.’
I poured two glasses and bagsed the car token as we set up the board. My experience playing Monopoly in the past was agonising: every roll of the dice presented me with a decision – should I buy Pall Mall? Wait until I got to Piccadilly? Risk it all for Mayfair? And that was just the start of my problems. After I’d botched all of my purchasing decisions came the bargaining round, when everyone made deals to trade properties for cash. I would inevitably second-guess my way into every possible bad deal and be the first bankrupt player, usually out long before anyone else. Maybe with wine it would be better.
