Page 58 of Antihero
There’s no time.
The bottle is still rolling, settling back in the sink by the time I’m out the front door, racing. Racing for Paige.
***
The Bunker ferry arrives as I’m racing past the dock. People scream, falling back, staring to watch me go. Murmurs echo in my wake. I don’t care. Let them talk. Let them know.
I don’t stop as I reach my destination and race up the wide footpath, barely breaking my pace as I turn my shoulder and ram straight through the double doors so hard that one of the windows crack.
The receptionists scream at the bang and scream again when they see me. It's late; the sun has already gone down. They’re not expecting anybody. Certainly not me. Certainly notNeedler.
Their eyes lock on the mask, utter terror on their faces. I could be a fake. Perhaps not the real Needler of Tregam. But are they going to take that chance? I don’t give them the time to do the math. I won’t hurt them, but they don’t know that. My leather gloves squeak as I tighten my grip on the needle. “Dr Goodry.” My voice comes out as an altered rasp.
The younger one shakes her head, wide-eyed and terrified. The older one is smarter. She points to the first door down the hall.
That door comes off its hinges when I kick it. The doctor is on the phone, locked in place as the shock of me freezes him. I rip the phone out of the wall before he can say anything down the receiver, and a moment later, I drag the doctor out by the collar of his coat.
“I’m calling the cops!” The older receptionist screeches, coming to stand not quite in my way.
I force Goodry back through the lobby, ignoring how he protests and struggles. He loses his footing, and I drag him by the collar of his lab coat once more.
“Please,” I turn back, watching them flinch. “Go ahead.”
***
Wraith
Charlotte looks more afraid now than when I was about to strangle her.
I look up. And I see Needler. Not Tristan.Needler.
The silver mask turns down towards us from the top lip of the basement. His black clothes hide him against the darkening night, his hood pushed back. His hair is fair around the mask, finally back to its true colour. He’s glorious. Framed by an angry sky and the top floor of the orphanage, where the fire carved jagged teeth, each of them pointing up at the clouds. The needleI left him is clutched in his hand. This is the side of himself he tried to get rid of.
Then I see the one he’s holding onto, recognise the man underneath the swollen and battered face. “Dr Goodry?” I look to Needler. “What have you done to him?”
Is this his plan to stop me? To offer my doctor’s life for Charlotte’s?
Goodry screeches, hanging from Needler’s grasp by the back of his neck. “Paige! Paige, he’s a madman! Run!”
Needler gives him a harsh shake, growling through the voice changer on his throat. “That’s not what we talked about, bastard.”
Goodry whimpers. I flinch as Needler balls his fist and punches him hard in the stomach. Goodry spits blood. “What are you doing?” I gasp, horrified. He’s going to kill him. For what?
Charlotte has said nothing. She’s on her feet, staring at Goodry like he’s some piece of a puzzle. “Tell her,” Needler growls again, and this time the needle glints in his hand. Goodry sees it, too.
“Tell me what? What are you doing?” They’re close to the edge of the wall. I think of what he did to Harry, to Declan. Tristan is dangerous. ButNeedlermight be a lunatic. “He’s just my doctor!” The raindrops fall, heavy now, thick plops that punctuate the silence and Goodry’s pained moans.
Tristan tosses something towards me, scattering small white pill specks everywhere. Pills. They run blue in the rain. “What…”
“If you’d taken even one of these, you’d be dead. That blue colour? They’re laced.” Needler says, “Cyanide.”
I’m sure I don’t understand. I recognise the bottle that rolls to stillness near my feet. Goodry gave these to me today. If I’d done as he said, I’d have swallowed two an hour ago.
“Enough of your silence.” Needler’s voice cuts through it all. He brings the spike of the needle to the shell of Goodry’s ear. Before I can speak, or move, he flicks his wrist. Goodry’s screamsrip through the air, making my breath shrink inside my chest. His hand clutches blood and skin over where his ear hangs by a bit of flesh. “Speak, or I’ll take the other one.” I’ve never heard Tristan so mad.
“Tell her!” Needler screams. “Tell her she’s not sick!”
Chapter twelve
