The Sign of One. Eugene Lambert

I’m wondering if this is the last time I’ll ever see it like this, when I notice the sliver of light sneaking out from under the door. Oh great, that’s all I need. Rona’s back already, probably waiting behind the door with a hatchet.

      I bang inside, slam the door behind me, determined to make no excuses.

      ‘Look, I don’t care. You can’t keep me –’

      Rona looks up from stuffing something into my backpack. Her glare could stop a charging fourhorn.

      ‘Where the hell have you been, Kyle?’ she growls.

      And that’s when I see we have a visitor.

      She’s sitting, her legs stretched out, in the chair by the stove. Those leathers, the long white dreads, the teardrop tattoo, her dark green eyes. . .

      My mouth drops open. So does hers.

      ‘You!’ we both say.

      Windjammer girl launches herself to her feet.

      ‘No way. I’m not flying this scumbag anywhere,’ she says to Rona.

      Rona looks from me to the girl and her eyes go wide.

      ‘What? You know each other?’

8

       I SAY SOME TERRIBLE THINGS

      I shrug. The windjammer girl stands there all twitching and snarling. I wonder if she has that nasty little flamer on her. What did that bald bloke call her? Oh yeah, Sky. A stupid, made-up kind of name if you ask me.

      She grabs her rain jacket off the back of the chair.

      ‘No way. I’m out of here.’

      She steps around me, but hasn’t reckoned on Rona, who puts her back to the door to block it. I’ve never seen my mother look more fierce.

      And that’s saying something.

      ‘Where do you think you’re going?’ she snaps.

      The girl hesitates. She scowls, looks me up and down. ‘Not him,’ she says, spitting the words. ‘You don’t understand.’

      Rona groans. She runs her hands through her hair in obvious frustration. ‘Show her,’ she says to me.

      ‘Show her what?’ I say, confused.

      ‘Your dressings, Kyle, take them off. Show Sky your healing.’

      My collar is still turned up against the rain, so Rona can’t see they’re gone already. ‘Are you out of your mind?’

      ‘Just do as I say!’

      I throw my hands up. If Rona asked me to sing ‘Oh, My Saviour’, all twenty verses, I couldn’t be more gobsmacked. Show this stranger my twist healing? Yeah, sure. Why not? For the second time this evening, I unbutton my shirt.

      Rona twitches, seeing my already bare neck and chest.

      The girl’s eyes narrow as they flicker over what’s left of my wounds. She purses her mouth as if choking poison down. I expect her to scream or make a run for it like Jude. Instead, she just frowns, as if she’s seen this before.

      ‘Blaster burns, that what you said?’

      ‘A week ago, low power maybe, but point-blank range,’ says Rona, all healer matter-of-fact now. ‘He was in a terrible state, but now look at him.’

      Sky darts one last venomous look at me, then throws Rona a little nod.

      ‘O-kay then,’ she says, sounding half-strangled.

      ‘Okay,’ echoes Rona. ‘Good.’

      Whatever they’ve agreed, it looks like it’s on again.

      ‘Will somebody please tell me what the hell is going on?’ I say.

      Rona ignores me. She marches over to the table and starts stuffing my backpack again. She’s got her back to me, but I can tell from how stiff it is and the way she’s punching the gear in, she’s furious.

      Well, I don’t care. I’m angry too. At her – at Jude – at the whole world.

      ‘Off you go,’ she says to me, handing me my pack with a grunt. ‘Follow Sky; she knows the way. I’ll join you later, soon as I’m done here.’

      ‘No.’ I sling the pack back on to the table.

      ‘Oh, don’t you start,’ Rona says, her voice rising.

      ‘This is crazy! I’m not going anywhere,’ I say. My voice wobbles. I see the windjammer girl out of the corner of my eye, sneering. ‘I’ve had it with not knowing what’s going on. I’m staying right here until you tell me everything.’

      Rona twitches. ‘We haven’t got time for this, Kyle.’

      I shake my head and stare at the floor until I hear my mother’s sigh.

      ‘Sky,’ she says, ‘maybe you could give us a minute?’

      I look up now. The girl stares at Rona, then at me. I see the hostility, but something else too. Curiosity? Maybe, but a blink and it’s gone. She shrugs her jacket on over her thin shoulders. ‘Whatever, but remember we ain’t got all night.’

      The door bangs shut behind her.

      Silence. My heart thrashing, my head thumping. Neither of us able to look the other in the eye. I feel numb and empty inside.

      ‘Sit down,’ Rona says at last. ‘And button your shirt.’

      I do as she says. She sits opposite me and sighs again. My heart tries to batter through my ribs, but I stay quiet. I don’t want sighs – I want answers.

      ‘Please tell me you didn’t go see Jude.’ she says.

      I roll my eyes. She curses, making me jump, but then takes my hand.

      ‘Listen, I’ve sorted us a trip out of here on that girl’s windjammer, no questions asked, to somewhere safe. I can’t imagine how you know each other, but she can be trusted. You must do as she says though. Promise me that.’

      ‘Fine,’ I say through gritted teeth.

      ‘Good. That’s good,’ says Rona.

      She glances at the closed door, as if she can see through the wood to Sky waiting impatiently outside.

      I pull my hand away. ‘Why is this happening to me?’

      ‘It’s too long a story,’ she says, with a tired shake of her head. ‘Try and be sensible, Kyle. I’ll tell you everything later, I promise you I will.’

       Try and be sensible?

      Oh sure. Turns out I’m the bane of Wrath.

      A monster so awful that I make my girlfriend’s skin crawl.

      I smash my fist on to the table, sending stuff flying. I jump up, sweep my backpack to the floor, kick my chair across the room. ‘This is all your fragging fault! You should have told me. You should’ve stopped this happening. You –’

      And I say some terrible things.

      Rona doesn’t flinch, just watches me as I rage and stamp about. When I stop, panting and helpless, she’s there to gather me in her arms. She pulls me close. I sense then how she’s trying to be strong for both of us.

      ‘I’m sorry,’ I whisper, ashamed.

      ‘So am I,’ she says. She pulls back and does her best to smile, but her eyes are shiny with sadness. ‘More sorry than you can ever know.’ She dabs at her eyes with a rag.

      I