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  “I’d keep it independent of the net,” she said slowly. “Accessible through only one terminal.”

  “Can that be done?” Wraith asked.

  “Perhaps.” Raven nodded. “But if that’s what the laboratory is using we won’t find out if Rachel is still alive without breaking into it.”

  • • •

  Ali studied herself in the full-length mirror. The holodress shimmered when she moved, projecting images of a flurry of rainbow crystals circling her figure. She smiled at her reflection, while the mirror doubled the swirl of phantom crystals, then swayed out of the way to avoid being squashed by Caitlin. They were in Zircarda’s parents’ apartment. All Saturday afternoon people had been arriving at the Tarrell apartment to set up for the party, and all afternoon the three girls had been dressing up. Caitlin’s glossy curls now betrayed a new hint of auburn, which contrasted vividly with her forest-green dress, made from individual leaves spun together and preserved by an artificial gelling agent. Zircarda was wearing red. Her fascination with ganger-style fashion had made her spend a huge amount of money on a genuine leather dress in a signal-flare crimson. Now she stepped in front of Caitlin to check her makeup. Ali sat back on the bed as Zircarda looked flirtatiously at her reflection through long eyelashes. Caitlin joined her and smiled conspiratorially.

  “I can’t wait to meet your Dad’s guests,” she whispered. “There was an item on the news today about the launch of CultRock.”

  “I know, I saw it,” Ali grimaced. “I just hope they won’t be playing that kind of music all evening.”

  “Maybe we should get a move on,” Caitlin suggested. “It’s nearly eight.”

  “What time were people supposed to arrive, Ali?” Zircarda asked casually.

  “Start time’s seven thirty,” Ali told her.

  “It’s still a little early.” Zircarda frowned.

  “It doesn’t really matter, though,” Ali reminded her. “I’m almost the hostess, aren’t I? So I can be as early as I want.”

  “OK, then.” Zircarda reached for her coat. “I’ll call a flitter.”

  “We could walk, and be there before the flitter arrives,” Caitlin pointed out.

  “I think we should take a flitter,” Zircarda said firmly and the other two shrugged and agreed.

  • • •

  When they eventually got there, Ali hardly recognized her own apartment. Rock music pounded out of huge speakers and the four main rooms were packed solid with celebrities. Even Zircarda was a little intimidated. Instead of trying to approach someone like Yannis Kastell or Elohim, two of the most popular artists of the day, she clustered with the rest of the clique in the corner of the room sipping champagne and pointing out celebrities to each other.

  Just as Ali wondered if she would be spending the entire evening as a wallflower, her father caught sight of her and waved. Smiling, Ali went to greet him, followed closely by Zircarda. Bob slung an arm around his daughter’s shoulders and ruffled her hair.

  “This is my daughter Ali,” he said to the man he had been talking to. “Ali, this is Gideon Ash. He’ll be hosting a program on the new channel.”

  “Pleased to meet you, Mr. Ash,” Ali said politely, shaking hands with the presenter, before a movement beside her reminded her to introduce him to Zircarda. Listening to a somewhat desultory conversation about the new channel, the two girls were ideally positioned to catch the first glimpse of Bob Tarrell’s star guest, as she entered the apartment.

  “Elizabeth!” he called and, forging a path through the other guests, went to greet her, followed by Gideon Ash, Zircarda, and Ali. “I thought you were never coming!”

  A glance sideways told Ali that Zircarda’s face had the same frozen look she could feel on her own. She had an instinctive feeling that she wasn’t going to like Elizabeth Black. The girl looked younger than she did but she had an utter possession that made Zircarda’s self-confidence seem weak in comparison. She wore a skin-tight black catsuit that displayed to advantage a perfect figure, covered by a loose mesh tunic of platinum chain-links. A cloud of black hair framed her face and her black eyes were outlined in gold. It was several moments before Ali even noticed her two companions. Kez, dressed simply in dark red, and a tall man with perfect features, dead white skin, and starkly white hair, dressed entirely in black cycle leathers. Elizabeth stepped forward and took Bob Tarrell’s outstretched hand, supremely unconscious that people were turning to look at her.

  “How are you, Bob?” she smiled. “This is my cousin, Kez, and my friend, Ryan. Ryan’s a holovid producer.”

  “I’m pleased to meet you,” Bob told them both, shaking hands earnestly. “And, Elizabeth, you look incredible tonight. Truly electric, as my daughter would say.” He motioned Gideon forward. “This is Gideon Ash, one of my presenters.” He paused to allow Ash to offer an admiring greeting. “Zircarda Anthony, one of my daughter’s friends, and my daughter herself, Ali. Ali, this is Elizabeth.”

  “I’m fascinated to meet you, Ali,” the black-haired girl told her, looking directly at her with the darkest eyes the girl had ever seen.

  Ali froze. She couldn’t have explained the fear that had consumed her. But as the young researcher’s eyes had met hers the thought had leaped into the forefront of her mind. She knows! It was inescapable. Those obsidian eyes had looked straight through her, had seen her soul. Now Elizabeth was laughing in response to something Bob had said. In another few moments she had moved on to the dance floor, joined in seconds by Elohim who was wasting no time in introducing himself. It wasn’t until Zircarda had been speaking for some time that Ali connected with reality again.

  “Can you believe that outfit?” her friend was asking with a barely concealed jealousy.

  “What about the way Elohim’s all over her?” a voice chimed in from behind and Ali didn’t need to look to know that it belonged to Caitlin. “She’s younger than us, for God’s sake!”

  Ali wasn’t listening. She was frantically studying Elizabeth’s two companions. Kez was looking around him with a bemused fascination, but the white-haired man was leaning against the wall. His eyes, covered with dark shades, could be watching anyone. Ali shuddered. She was wondering wildly if they could possibly be from the CPS despite the fact that the logical part of her brain was telling her that the CPS would hardly bother to engage in such a pointless masquerade.

  • • •

  Raven was high on celebrity. For the first time since arriving in London she was actually enjoying herself. Wraith had been conducting his search for Rachel with a single-minded monotony that came close to driving her insane with boredom. But recent events, moving into the Belgravia Complex, the mystery of the secret laboratory, and the launch of CultRock were bringing Raven back to life. She felt the pounding music flood through her, echoing the beat of her heart, in the darkened room and grinned fiercely.

  It had been a surprise to see Ali. She might have made the connection between Bob Tarrell and the stranger in the network earlier if she hadn’t been sluggish with boredom. The moment of recognition hadn’t actually come until Bob had introduced his daughter. The fear that had leaped into the girl’s eyes as Raven had studied her had confirmed it. Raven was amused at the incongruity. If she hadn’t known for a fact that the spoiled, shallow socialite was a Hex she would never have believed it.

  If Wraith had known Ali’s secret he would probably have demanded that Raven show her how to avert her danger. Raven dismissed the idea with contempt. The only sure way for a Hex to escape the eagle eyes of the CPS was to become invisible, to fade out of the world as she had done. The girl suppressed a laugh, thinking how successful her own fade had been, enough so that she could be standing in the middle of a room of celebrities, and yet, she might as well have not been there. Being here at all was a risk, but Raven enjoyed the danger. Ali didn’t look as if she was enjoying it. A glance to the side of the room gave Raven a split-second glimpse of Ali’s tense expression. This time she did laugh aloud. What use would it do fo
r her to warn Ali to run? There was no way a spoiled little rich girl would survive out in the real world.

  • • •

  Bob Tarrell announced the launch of CultRock at midnight. His guests, high on vintage champagne, cheered enthusiastically. A generous man by nature, Bob gave full credit for the inspiration to Elizabeth Black, a researcher from AdAstra, and the girl returned his compliments politely. Everything was exactly as might have been expected. But Ali, separated from her celebrity-spotting friends, felt as if she had been turned to stone. She couldn’t even lift her glass in the obligatory toast. When she finally lifted the champagne to her lips with a leaden hand, she might have been drinking stale water for all the enjoyment she got from it.

  It was like the worst kind of nightmare. All her senses were screaming danger, and there was nothing she could do about it. Dark eyes regarded her from across the room, then flickered away as if the glance had only been accidental. Ali knew better. That casual smile was as treacherous as the grin of a crocodile.

  It wasn’t until the early hours of the morning, when the guests finally departed and Ali curled up in a ball under the white counterpane of her bed, that the fear finally began to recede. But her dreams that night were menacing and confused, running from something she couldn’t see with legs that refused to bear her weight. The appearance of the girl had been a catalyst. She had brought to life all the anxiety that Ali had tried to suppress since the discovery of her own deadly secret. For the first time in her life, Ali Tarrell was possessed by terror.

  5

  LIGHT THICKENS

  Three sets of architectural blueprints from different elevations were spread out on the floor of the lounge. Raven, back in her rumpled army castoffs, her hair once more a wild mass of tangles, sat cross-legged in front of them, holding a stylus. Wraith sat across from her, studying them equally intently, and Kez, kneeling on the couch, leaned over the back, looking down on them.

  Raven’s brows were drawn into a frown and Kez was not surprised when, throwing down the stylus, she shook her head.

  “It’s not going to work this way, Wraith.”

  “It’s all we have to go on,” Wraith replied, not looking up from the plans.

  “Wraith,” Raven said, waiting until she had got his full attention. When his eyes finally met hers she went on. “These are the design blueprints for the original laboratory—they were all I could pull out of the CPS database. By now that entire facility will have been remodeled.” She stood up, and crossed to the couch. “These plans are about three hundred years old.”

  “Do you have any other suggestions?” Wraith asked.

  “I will have.”

  “That’s not good enough,” he told her. “We’ve got to get into that lab as soon as possible.”

  “Well, why don’t you ask Kez for an idea?” Raven suggested nastily. “I don’t recall that he’s been that much use so far.”

  “We didn’t bring Kez to help us find Rachel,” Wraith said with exasperation. “He’s here because you brought him with us on a whim.”

  “And I can easily hit the road if you’ve changed your mind,” Kez told her, angry and disenchanted with Raven.

  Raven was smiling; she was bored and frustrated, and baiting Wraith and Kez was the only thing she could do to remove her apathy, other than turning on the sound system to its highest volume, or taking off in the flitter and hot-wiring the acceleration. But it didn’t take Raven long to switch from boredom to anger and Kez’s next comment provided the necessary spark.

  “Maybe I do have an idea,” he told her. “If you’re so keen to get into that lab why don’t you turn yourself over to the CPS?”

  “What a sensational idea,” she hissed at him. “Why don’t you make the call and see what I do to you.”

  “Hey, Raven, stay chill,” Kez said uneasily, and Wraith came to his rescue. Finally standing up and abandoning the plans, he walked round to stand behind Kez, resting a light hand on his shoulder.

  “It’s not actually a bad idea,” he said calmly. “Why shouldn’t we try it, Raven?”

  “It would be me trying it, not you,” she told him. “And there’s no chance.”

  “If you can get in and out of the CPS’s database as easily as you claim, surely you can get in and out of the laboratory?”

  “They wouldn’t take me to the laboratory,” Raven said unequivocally. “I’ve been working out how they decide who to take to the lab.” She locked eyes with Wraith, trying to convince him. “It wouldn’t be me.”

  “Why not?” Kez asked, and Wraith added:

  “I’m not sure I believe you, Raven.”

  “Sit down,” Raven commanded, waiting until Wraith had complied, seating himself on the arm of the couch. He hadn’t dropped his eyes and she smiled slightly at the intensity of his scrutiny.

  “Go on, then,” he said. “Convince me.”

  “Did I tell you the CPS take one in eight of the suspected Hexes they capture to the laboratory?” Raven asked. Wraith gave a brief nod and she continued: “There’s a pattern to that. They always take the youngest and most inexperienced. The ones that are found through medical results or unusual behavior, not the convicted computer hackers, and never anyone older than about twenty. It’s almost always children, as well.”

  “You’re only fifteen, Raven,” Wraith pointed out. “And for all your illegal ventures into the net, it’s not as if you’ve ever been discovered. You fit into those categories.”

  “No I don’t,” she shook her head. “I may be barely an adult as far as the CPS and you are concerned, but I’ve been active as a Hex for a long time. I don’t think I’ve reached the height of my abilities, but they certainly extend far further than those of the novices the CPS like to experiment on. I’m much too dangerous to them. They’d work that out in five minutes; even they can’t be that stupid. And then they’d exterminate me, without even waiting for an official authorization.”

  “I thought you always said there was no way the CPS could do that to you,” Kez pointed out.

  “That’s because they would never get me as far as one of their facilities,” she informed him coldly. “If the CPS did ever arrive to collect me, which I doubt would happen because I’ve taken precautions against it, they wouldn’t get me more than ten meters. Their vehicles would shut down, their communicators wouldn’t work, and either I’d escape or they’d kill me.” She shrugged. “It’s as simple as that. And it’s not a risk I’d be willing to take for anyone.”

  “I suppose I can’t blame you,” Wraith said slowly. “And, in this case, I do believe you.”

  “Thank you,” Raven replied with exaggerated sarcasm.

  “But we’ve still got to find a way into that facility,” Wraith added. “Even if we can’t use you as bait.”

  • • •

  Ali was in her room when it happened. She was lying on her bed, feeling particularly bedraggled. Zircarda and Caitlin were still recovering from the excesses of the night before and Ali, even though she’d barely drunk anything, felt as if she had all the aftereffects. She lay on her stomach, staring across the room at the blank screen of her computer terminal. She hadn’t used it in nearly a week.

  The last time she had attempted to do so she had found herself slipping into the trance that had overtaken her once before while working at the terminal. Ali sighed. That first time had been almost wonderful, certainly the most exciting thing that had ever happened to her, and when she had realized what it had signified she had almost been pleased. Being a Hex seemed somehow special. It was not until the second time she had tried it that she had been scared. She shivered, remembering how it had felt to be caught and held against her will. Then the sudden outward flood of information that had overwhelmed her, the stranger’s contempt coupled with the conviction that Ali would be caught and exterminated. That other essence had read her mind in a split second, but given nothing away itself.

  The simple fact that someone existed who knew her secret had terrified Ali.
Then, yesterday, she had met someone else who knew it, who had looked through her and with a glance turned her inside out. Ali buried her head in her arms, wishing with all her might that Elizabeth Black would go back to America, and even more fervently that the Hex gene had never even existed.

  A faint noise, just on the edge of hearing, made her look up again, frowning. She listened intently, hearing nothing. But it had been a sound that she knew. Instinctively she glanced over at the terminal and suddenly knew what had caught her attention. It had been the sound of the computer powering up. She watched it with fixation, as if the sleek gray wall unit was a deadly snake. The screen was glowing, showing that it was on. But it was impossible for the terminal to switch itself on.

  Then slowly, inexorably, letters began to march across the screen. Too far away for Ali to read them, but unmistakably letters. And yet no one had touched the keypad, none of this was possible. The letters came to a halt; a single sentence now glowed on the screen. The room suddenly seemed much colder and very dark. Ali crossed to the terminal, moving as if she was made of glass and a sudden movement might break her. The sentence faced her, starkly uncompromising.

  > come to apartment 103 immediately <

  It was almost innocent. A simple request. But it had appeared almost supernaturally on the screen. And it was not a request. It was a demand. One that Ali did not dare refuse.

  She picked up her synthetic woolen jacket and put it on, then she walked toward the door, like someone approaching their execution. She didn’t even notice the terminal switching itself off behind her. She left the apartment with leaden footsteps, the door swishing shut behind her. Slowly she walked along the covered security-shielded walkways that would take her to her destination. She reached it in less than fifteen minutes. The outer door was identical to her own. Reaching out a heavy hand she touched the wall-plate. Three seconds later the door slid open. Someone had been waiting for her. Ali took a deep breath and stepped inside. Behind her the door slid shut again.