The Set Up Page 10

  ‘D’you have a problem with that?’

  ‘No,’ I said, floundering. ‘But it’s the middle of school and I’m grounded and I don’t have any money.’

  ‘Well, if you can get away, I can supply the money.’ Dylan’s American accent got stronger as she spoke more intently. ‘I’ll sort the tickets and meet you at whichever station it is. I’ll text you the time and place.’

  ‘Er . . .’ There wasn’t time to think about it. Anyway, I could always ditch Dylan once we’d found the information on Viper. ‘You realise we’re going to have to sneak into Fergus’s house . . . I mean, I’m supposed to be grounded, so he’s not exactly going to welcome us in and—’

  ‘Yeah.’ I could hear the grin in Dylan’s voice. ‘I figured that. No sweat, it’ll be fun. I’ve always wanted to go there.’

  ‘Why?’

  There was a pause.

  ‘Didn’t Jack explain?’ Dylan said. ‘It’s the reason he found me so easily. I’m William Fox’s daughter. That house is where he grew up . . . I’ve never been there.’

  ‘William Fox was your dad?’

  ‘Well that’s usually what being someone’s daughter means,’ Dylan said, drily.

  I stood, mouth open, on the other end of the line, taking in this information. A succession of realisations hit me. If Dylan was William’s daughter, that meant her own father was responsible for her mother’s death. It also meant she and I were virtually cousins.

  I realised neither of us had spoken for several seconds. Dylan appeared to be waiting for me to say something. I didn’t feel I could say either of the two things that had occurred to me. They both seemed way too personal.

  ‘But that means you’re Fergus’s niece,’ I said in the end.

  ‘Yeah.’ Dylan gave a light sigh. ‘Though I haven’t seen him since my mum died and I got sent to America.’

  I shook my head. Yet another little detail Fergus had kept hidden from me.

  ‘Didn’t you ever stop and wonder why Jack was my godfather?’ Dylan said, a slightly haughty tone in her voice, as if I was a bit thick not to have made the connection.

  ‘Well, no, actually.’ Truth was, I’d forgotten Dylan had ever told me Jack was her godfather.

  ‘Jack worked with my dad, remember? He told you. He liaised between my dad and Geri Paterson, sorting out the finances for my dad’s research.’

  I nodded. ‘Yeah, I remember.’

  ‘I know what you’re thinking,’ Dylan snarled. ‘And you can stop right now.’

  ‘What?’ I said, startled.

  ‘You’re thinking that I must be really screwed up because my dad killed my mom when he injected me with the Medusa gene.’

  ‘No.’ I frowned. Why would she think that? ‘I mean, obviously that’s got to be weird for you but then the whole thing’s so bizarre that—’

  ‘My dad didn’t know what injecting me with the Medusa gene would do to my mom, okay?’

  ‘Sure, but all our mums died.You’re not the only one who—’

  ‘So this is all about you, is it?’ she snarled.

  God she was annoying.

  ‘No,’ I snapped. ‘By the way, did you sue them?’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘The teachers at whatever charm school you went to. Because if you didn’t, I reckon you could make a fortune. You could certainly get your money back.’

  There was a short silence. Then Dylan laughed – a quick, apologetic chuckle.

  ‘Sorry,’ she said, softly. ‘I guess I have some issues about my mom and dad.’

  Another short pause. I had no idea what to say.

  ‘So . . .’ Dylan cleared her throat. ‘How soon can you meet me?’

  *

  I got away from school without much trouble. I was present for afternoon registration – then snuck out at the end of the first period. Hopefully it would take a few hours before anyone noticed I was missing.

  I met Dylan at King’s Cross about an hour later and we took a crowded, early evening train to Edinburgh. I thought Dylan might tell me more about her past, but once we’d found some seats on our train, she settled back and jammed in her earphones. She fell asleep after a couple of hours. I took a sneaky picture of her in her jeans and cropped top and texted it to Tom:

  Heres y im gone 4 w/end. cover 4 me if u can.

  At least that would throw everyone at school off the scent. I was expecting angry calls from Mr Rogerson – and Fergus – any minute. I waited for Tom’s text back – which was a predictable mix of crudeness and envy – then switched my phone off.

  Several more hours – and a long taxi ride later – and we were there.

  It was almost midnight and freezing.

  ‘It’s not exactly a house, is it?’ Dylan whispered, as we stood in the dark, peering in through the gates.

  She was right. Mansion would have been a better description. Fergus’s family home was enormous: a huge stone building covered in ivy and built over four floors – and counting – with at least six windows across the front of each one.

  I sighed, my breath misting into the cold, dank air. At least there was no sign of any lights on. Still, having seen the size of the house it was quite possible the whole of the back could be lit up with fairy lights and we wouldn’t be able to tell, here at the front gate.

  ‘Maybe they’re out,’ I said.

  ‘Let’s hope they’re in and sleeping.’ Dylan pointed to the burglar alarm box over the front door. ‘If they’re out, that alarm will be switched on. And the alarm on a house this size is bound to be connected to the local police station. Our one at home is.’

  I glanced sideways at her, hoping for a bit more information. ‘So where’s home?’ I asked. ‘I mean you said America, but . . .?’

  ‘Philadelphia.’ Dylan took a black cap from her bag and set it on her head, shoving her red hair inside. She glanced sideways at me – her expression guarded. ‘When my mom died I went to live with her sister . . . my aunt . . . okay?’

  I nodded. It was funny, despite the aggressive way Dylan spoke, there was something really vulnerable about her too. I couldn’t quite explain it to myself, but it had definitely been there in the soft apology she’d given me earlier, and in that wary look just now. Like a kid expecting to have its sweets taken away any second.

  ‘When my mum died I got to live with Fergus Fox,’ I said.

  ‘I know,’ Dylan whispered. ‘Now, are we going to break into this place tonight or not?’

  ‘I was waiting for you.’

  We shoved our rucksacks under a bush by the gate. I took out the torch Dylan had brought with her and tucked it inside my jacket. The wrought iron gates were bolted and padlocked, but it was easy enough to climb over them. We crept up the gravel drive, still scanning the house for signs of life.

  Nothing. Two high walls prevented us from checking for lights round the back but, from here at least, the house looked completely deserted.

  I switched on the torch and shone it along the front of the house. I was hoping to find an open window on one of the lower floors, but they were all shut.

  ‘Can’t you open one using telekinesis?’ Dylan whispered.

  I slowed my breathing, then focused on the nearest frame. It didn’t move. I tried another, then another – but they wouldn’t budge.

  ‘Must be locked,’ I whispered back.

  The wind whistled past us. Dylan shivered. ‘I guess we could break one, but it’ll make a lot of noise.’

  I gritted my teeth. ‘There’s got to be another way . . .’

  ‘Look. Up there.’

  I followed Dylan’s gaze to the very top of the house. A little attic room poked up from the main part of the house – one of those pointy-roof jobs. It had an old-fashioned leaded-light window – which was open a fraction at the bottom.

  ‘If we can get up there, we should be able to push the window open and get inside,’ Dylan whispered.

  ‘Good idea.’ I tested the ivy on the wall in front of me. It was tough a
nd thick, but I had no idea if it would be strong enough to take our weight all the way to the top. Still, I didn’t have much choice. I’d have to take the risk.

  ‘You don’t have to come too,’ I said. ‘I can try and let you in once I’m inside.’

  Dylan rolled her eyes. ‘What, and miss all the fun? Anyway, you might need my help.’ She grabbed a handful of ivy and hauled herself up.

  I shoved the torch into my jeans pocket and clambered after her. The ivy sagged as I stepped on it, but was so tightly woven into itself, that it didn’t break or tear under my weight. I reached for a handhold, grabbed more ivy above me, and drew myself up after Dylan. I soon overtook her and climbed on past, hand after hand, trying not to think about how high we’d have to go before we reached the top of the house.

  The ivy grew patchier as we got higher. My heart pounded. Would it hold us both all the way up? Dylan was directly below me.

  ‘Let’s separate out a bit,’ I said. ‘Less weight on the ivy in one place . . .’

  ‘Okay,’ Dylan whispered.

  The rustling noise beneath me told me she was shuffling sideways. I carried on climbing up. Clouds hid the moon and I didn’t want to let go long enough with my hands to reach for my torch, so I couldn’t really see inside any of the rooms we were passing. I had a vague sense of a shadowy living room on the first floor and I could definitely make out the outline of a bed on the second. The combination of the darkness and the silence made the whole house seem more than a little creepy. I shivered.

  As I reached the third floor, I looked down. Dylan was now some way beneath me and to the left. The ground below her was enveloped in darkness. Beyond were the iron gates we had climbed over and the road stretching away into the distance.

  With a delicate patter, it started to rain.

  I heard Dylan swear below me. I grinned. Then the rain got harder, which made the ivy more slippery, and the smile fell from my face. I sped up, pulling myself up past the top of the third-floor window on my right without even looking inside. I was almost there. I could see the little attic window ledge jutting out above my head.

  One more step up. And another. There. I gripped hold of the sill and peered into the attic room. I could make out the shadowy outline of a wardrobe in the corner, and a narrow bed by the door. No one was inside.

  Not wanting to let go of the sill and push the window by hand, I tried to shift it using telekinesis. It was stuck fast. No wonder someone had left it slightly open. It probably didn’t move in either direction any more.

  I redoubled my efforts. Carefully, I let go of the sill with one hand and used it to push the sash. Maybe the combination of telekinesis and brute force would work.

  Dylan was almost with me. I could hear her hands reaching for ivy holds below my feet. The rain was still drizzling . . . trickling down the back of my neck.

  Damn. This window was a bitch.

  I kept pushing, trying to increase the telekinetic force I was using on the frame at the same time.

  Breathe. Focus. Move.

  With a resentful creak, the window rose. There. Enough space for us to crawl through. I turned my head so Dylan could hear me over the pounding rain. ‘I’m going in. Come on up and I’ll help you through.’

  ‘Okay.’

  I hooked my leg over the sill. As I took a breath, balancing myself ready to haul myself up, I wondered how close I was to Ketty. The thought made my stomach tighten into a knot.

  I suddenly realised what an overwhelming task I’d set myself here – finding her and the Medusa information, and all without Fergus catching me.

  Well, I was here now, I might as well get on with it. With a grunt I heaved myself up. The torch fell from my pocket.

  No. I tensed, listening out for the crash.

  Splat. The sound of plastic shattering on concrete rose above the rain.

  Shit. That was really careless. Now we had no light.

  I scrambled into the empty attic room – no alarm went off. Well, that was a relief. I looked back out of the window. It had stopped raining now, but the ivy glistened, wet, in the moonlight. I could just make out the top of Dylan’s head, she was right beneath me. She looked up.

  ‘Was that our flashlight?’ she said.

  ‘Yup.’

  ‘Awesome,’ she said, sarcastically.

  ‘Just get your arse in through this win—’

  ‘Aaagh!!’ Dylan gasped as the ivy ripped from the bricks.

  No. I stared, helplessly, as one of her arms swung free. Her hand was still clutching the ivy she’d been hanging on with. She clawed at the wall again, but she was panicking too much to get a hold.

  ‘Nico, help!’ she hissed.

  I reached out, but she was just too far below me. I could only touch the top of her head. ‘Grab the ivy again.’

  Dylan flung herself at the wall and reached for more greenery. She missed. She swung away from the wall, losing her balance and her footing.

  For a second her whole weight appeared to be hanging off her right arm. And then the ivy she was clutching tore completely. She hung in mid-air for a moment. Then her body crumpled and fell, in slow motion, into the shadows.

  My yell masked the thump of her fall.

  ‘Dylan!’ I didn’t care who heard me now. I leaned right out of the window, straining to see her. But the moon had gone behind a cloud and the ground was shrouded in darkness. ‘Dylan!’

  Nothing.

  My first instinct was to get out of the window and climb back down the ivy. But it was slippery from the earlier rain and the night was so dark now I could barely see.

  Maybe I could see if I lit a match. I patted my pockets, but the matches I’d packed were still inside my rucksack, on the other side of the main gate.

  Find the stairs, you idiot.

  I raced across the attic room, my hands shaking, and pulled open the door. I pelted down the corridor, searching for stairs.

  Down. Down. I had to get down and outside. Dylan had fallen, what, three floors? Three and a half? People could survive that.

  Not without breaking something. Like their neck.

  You don’t know, you don’t know. Just go down. Go and see.

  A set of narrow iron stairs led down to a huge carpeted corridor. More stairs, much wider, twisting around each other. I flew down them to the second floor, barely noticing the fading brocade wallpaper and the oil paintings that hung like something from a stately home along the hallways.

  I reached the second floor. The stairs stopped. Cursing my head off I ran along another corridor. Rooms led off on either side.

  Stairs. There must be more stairs.

  And then footsteps sounded, running towards me. I stopped, too shocked to move. I’d been panicking so much I’d completely forgotten that Ketty and Fergus were almost certainly somewhere inside the house.

  I just had time to hope it wasn’t Fergus, when someone flew round the corner and skidded to a halt in front of me.

  Ketty.

  Ketty’s mouth fell open. Her hair was loose round her face and her eyes were round and shocked – though they still had a sleepy look about them.

  She looked unbelievably pretty. I took in all this – and her blue and white check pyjamas – in a glance.

  ‘Nico?’ Her voice croaked. ‘What are you doing here?’

  My stomach was doing cartwheels. I wanted nothing more than to stand here and explain everything, but Dylan was lying . . . possibly dying . . . downstairs . . .

  ‘Ketty, I . . . I really want to talk to you,’ I said, speaking fast, ‘but I have to go outside and—’

  ‘Don’t go.’ Her voice was clear and insistent.

  I stared at her. She smiled.

  ‘I was asleep and I heard your voice calling out. I thought I was dreaming. I’ve been having these terrible dreams . . .’ Ketty’s voice tailed off into a whisper. ‘Oh, Nico, I thought about what you did, entering me for the marathon up here, and I know that you told lies and did a whole bunch of stupid thing
s, but maybe there was a reason . . .’ She looked up at me, questioningly.

  ‘There was . . .’My stomach was knotting and unknotting now . . . I so wanted to stand here and talk to her. There was a softness in Ketty’s eyes I’d never seen before . . . and a definite question . . . about us. But the image of Dylan’s face – bloodied and bruised on the gravel drive – kept driving itself into my mind.

  ‘How did you get in?’ Ketty’s forehead wrinkled with a frown. ‘It’s the middle of the night.’

  ‘I climbed in through a window,’ I explained. ‘Listen, will you promise to wait here for me, while—’

  ‘Thanks for coming to check if I was okay.’ Dylan’s ferocious drawl made us both jump.

  She was standing, panting for breath at the end of the corridor. Her jeans had a mud stain on them and her black cap was gone, but she didn’t appear injured in any way.

  I stared at her in amazement. ‘Are you all right?’

  ‘Yes.’ Dylan’s voice was cool. She glanced at Ketty who stood, open-mouthed, beside me.

  ‘I was on my way down to find you, I just . . .’ I frowned. ‘Are you really all right?’

  ‘Yeah, my Medusa kicked in fast.’

  Of course. Dylan could protect herself from harm she saw coming – including a fall from height onto a gravel drive, apparently.

  Dylan jerked her thumb at Ketty. ‘Who’s this?’ Her pale green eyes glinted.

  Ketty stared at Dylan. ‘Who are you?’ she said.

  Dylan raised her eyebrows. Her lips pursed in a haughty ‘O’ shape. ‘I think you’ll find I’m a friend of Nico’s,’ she said coldly.

  The atmosphere tightened like a noose round my neck. I turned to Ketty. ‘Dylan’s Fergus’s niece,’ I said quickly. ‘Sort of like my cousin. I came here with her.’

  ‘Oh.’ A look of disappointment flashed across Ketty’s face. Then she pulled herself upright and tilted her chin up. ‘So why have you both turned up in the middle of the night?’

  ‘We might ask you the same question,’ Dylan drawled.

  ‘Excuse me . . .?’ Ketty clenched her teeth.

  Bloody hell.

  ‘This is my friend . . . my really good friend, Ketty,’ I said emphasising the words. ‘She’s staying here because she’s running in a local marathon tomorrow.’