Incandescence

14: Promises, Promises

"Your best friend's a zombie?" Daniel's smile is faint but evident. "Hello, Simon Pegg."

It's such a casual reference to make in a situation as dark as ours that it almost makes me laugh. Almost but not quite. If we were friends I wouldn't hesitate to, but we're not, and it's dangerous to pretend otherwise. 

I take a deep breath, my composure returning. "You said there are Seers, and that's people who've got a sixth sense like you, right? So what else is there? There must've been magic involved to reanimate my friend, right? How'd it happen? Are there supernatural rituals?"

I wait for him to say something, confirm it, but he doesn't. Should've known this wouldn't last. Daniel might've been willing to share some information, but when it really comes down to it he'd rather take his secrets to the grave. I've broken my promise for nothing.

"Fine, don't tell me. Forget I ever asked for your help–"

"Just give me a minute, alright?" he says. "Did it ever cross your mind that I don't have all the answers? I don't know everything, April. I'm just . . . well, I'm just a normal guy."

This time I do laugh, but not because he's said something funny. "You're a lot of things, Daniel, but normal isn't one of them."

He doesn't get pissed, just smiles, as if I've given him a compliment. "Look, I'll help you figure out how it happened, but I need to know what we're dealing with. Which means I'll need to see him for myself."

"That's impossible," I say. "Mason's still supposed to be missing. He can't go anywhere. People will know it's – that he's –"

"They won't know any different if they don't see him."

My mouth falls open. He's suggesting I sneak Mason outside? I may as well grab a megaphone and declare to the Hope populace that hordes of undead are currently plotting against us while I'm at it.

But then, it's not like it'd be the first time Mason's wandered off campus. He leaves all the time, and not always at night.

It can't be as difficult as it sounds.

"What did you have in mind?" I shouldn't humour this, but I will. Guaranteed I can get Mason to agree.

"This Thursday," Daniel says, but I shake my head.

"It has to be a weekend. I'm not allowed off campus any other time."

"Campus?" His tone of voice mirrors the confusion in his eyes. Then realisation dawns. "You go to that boarding school just outside of town, don't you? The snobby one."

"It's not snobby. It's just a good school." I normally wouldn't defend Destination Doom, but it's hard to listen to Daniel without taking all his comments as personal attacks. Whether that's his problem or mine, I don't know. "What about you? You still in school?"

"I'm nineteen."

"College, then?"

He shakes his head. "I have a job. Anyway, what about Saturday? How's that work with your busy schedule?"

"Perfect. D'you want me to bring some popcorn while I'm at it?"

"I'll call before then and we can sort the details out. I've gotta go."

"Right." I nod at him, knowing it hardly substitutes as a 'thanks' but not caring. "Guess I'll see you then."

I'm about ready to set off in search of the elevators when he calls my name. I sigh and turn back, even though I'm desperate to put as much distance between us as I can.

"Look, I know you don't like me much," he says, cupping his neck, "but I hope you know I meant what I said. I'll help you, April. You can count on me."

This is the perfect time to say something back, but I've never been good with words so I nod. Daniel smiles, then with his backpack over one shoulder he turns and strides up the corridor, his movements sure and steady. I watch him retreat until his hoodie's a red blur against a backdrop of white walls and fluorescents. Sincere as he sounded, it's difficult to believe him. People aren't known for keeping their word.

*

The drive back to Destination Doom is a long one. Once Lena is done gloating over her pizza topping celebration – when it came down to it, spicy beef and pepperoni conquered all – and the news that Erik may be well enough to return to school within the next week, I tune out, mulling over the conversation with Daniel, the newfound revelations and this arranged meeting with him and Mason on Saturday.

What if Mason doesn't agree to go with me? That'll take us back to square one again, and even I'm not sure where we could possibly go from there. I shake my head. Surely he will – after all, he's the one who wants to find out the truth about his murder and reanimation. I may still be wary of Daniel, but he's agreed – however reluctantly – to help.

Mason will see the sense in going down this route . . . at least, I think so.

"I wish I had an excuse to stay off campus," Lena murmurs tiredly from beside me. At first I assume she's meaning it so she can stay with Erik, but then she adds, "I've got a History test tomorrow that I haven't even bothered my ass to study for. Mr Skye's gonna kill me."

"He already wants to kill me," I say, remembering how infuriated he had looked that day in the staff base, when I'd fussed over counselling. As mad as a raging bull, getting ready to charge at a red flag.

"He's not even your teacher." Lena raises an eyebrow, confused. "Why would he be mad at–?"

"What the hell?" Simon hammers on the brakes and the Jeep comes to a complete standstill, thrusting both Lena and I forward in our seats. I steady myself, disoriented, and then shoot my gaze to the front window. A dizzying array of flashing lights – red, white and blue – is the first thing to catch my eye. "How am I supposed to turn onto the damn road?"

Surveying the street farther, I realise what's wrong. A large, luminescent police van is parked across both sides of the road, preventing access onto the avenue where ASA is situated. But that's not all that's up. The avenue is literally corded off with yellow tape. A shiver racks my spine.

"That doesn't look good," Lydia says. "What do you think's going on?"

Simon cuts off the engine and rolls down the driver's window as a male cop with a flashlight begins striding toward us, his face an expressionless mask.

"Sorry about the inconvenience," he says, sounding genuinely apologetic, as he approaches the car. "There's been some trouble nearby; I'm going to have to send you off on a diversion."

"Trouble?"

"There's a slight problem with that, officer." Simon gestures to Lena and I in the backseat. "We were on our way to All Saint's Academy to drop the girls off. There isn't any way you could let us by, is there?"

The cop scratches the back of his neck; a nervous twitch. I glance out the window again, at the forensic tape, that familiar knot easing its way into my stomach. No trouble is ever good, but I've got a feeling this particular trouble is by far worse than the average.

"It's a murder, isn't it?" I say, to no one in particular. I don't need an answer – a part of me knows deep down that it's true. And the figure I spot making its way towards our car is enough to confirm my suspicions.

Speak of the devil, I think, as Mr Skye comes into view, flanked by a few other teachers whom I don't know by name. His face looks ghastly white under the flickering light of an overhead streetlamp – the way it did when I first saw him after Mason's disappearance.

That knot in my stomach grows larger, consuming me, making it a struggle to breathe. A murder beside our school . . . that can't be a coincidence.