Finding Sky

‘It’s like music, Sky,’ Zed said. ‘Orchestrating the score one instrument at a time. You’ve been ru

‘You mean, about what happened when I was little?’

‘Yeah. It’s there.’

Dark spaces. Wonderful seams of pain and abandonment. Who had described me like that?

‘We think that when you’ve seen what’s behind al your doors, you’l find it easier to close them on others, stop people reading you so easily. In turn, it should give you control over the more recent memories, like discovering the key pieces in a puzzle.’

That was definitely something I wanted, no matter how scared I was of the process. ‘OK, let’s sort me out.’

Mrs Benedict drew the curtains while Yves lit candles around the room with a click of his fingers—

this was the guy who could make things explode, I recal ed. I was relieved to see the evidence that he had his gift wel under control. The candles smelt of vanil a and ci

Xav the healer was the first to speak. ‘Sky, there’s nothing medical y wrong with you—I can see no sign of mental il ness, though I could feel your distress.’

Zed rubbed the nape of my neck. ‘Not crazy after al .’

‘I can’t read the future clearly,’ admitted Karla.

‘There are many possible paths leading out of this moment.’

‘But I know where she’s been recently,’ Trace said. ‘She’s been in a room in a first class hotel—

satin sheets, lots of glass, you touched something made from white leather and a deep pile carpet. It is safe to say you were held somewhere before you ended up in the warehouse. If we got hold of the clothes you were wearing, I could probably tel you more.’

‘The threat’s not gone,’ said Saul, using his gift to sense the predators after us.

Wil nodded. ‘I sense more than one person looking for you, Sky.’

I turned to Zed. ‘Did you get al that too?’

‘Uh-huh. I also got that the two in the warehouse were the two who shot at us in the woods that day.

O’Hal oran was a savant, extraordinarily good at shielding. I wondered if that was why I could feel a layer in your mind—something alien. Did you see that, Uriel?’

Uriel touched my knee comfortingly. ‘Yes, and I think I know what it is even if I don’t know how it got there. Sky, your parents are artists, aren’t they?’

I nodded.

‘You know what sometimes happens to Old Masters? Someone takes them and paints over the surface and you have to strip off a layer to get back to the original? Wel , someone has done something similar to your memories.’

That felt right. ‘So what’s the original and what’s the forgery?’

‘That’s where we need to take it back to the base.’

‘Wil everyone see?’ It was bad enough bringing out my past for my own eyes; I didn’t want an audience for it.

‘No, just Zed, me, and you,’ Uriel said, his colours pulsing with the gentle pink of compassion. ‘And we won’t tel anyone unless you want us to.’

I real y didn’t want to do this but knew I had to.

‘Don’t be frightened,’ whispered Zed. ‘I’l be there with you.’

‘OK. OK. So what do I do?’

Uriel smiled reassuringly. ‘Just relax and let me in.’

It started out fine. I felt him examining my memories—the ones where I met my adoptive parents and how music helped heal me. I hadn’t buried those. It was when he pushed on the door leading back that I felt fear.

Don’t fight, Zed said. He’s not going to hurt you.

But it wasn’t Uriel I was scared of: it was what lay beyond the door.

Nothing we see there will make us feel anydifferent about you, he assured me.

I could feel waves of calm emotion coming from the other members of the Benedict family; Xav was doing something to reduce my racing pulse.

I took a deep breath. OK.

Uriel pushed the block aside and images began to stream through like a crowd rushing the turnstiles.

A cold night. Seething anger in a car.

‘I’ve had as much as I can take of this kid. She ruins everything!’ A man beating the steering wheel while a hol ow-cheeked woman fixed her make-up in the mirror. She looked a bit like me but her skin was real y bad, as if she’d not eaten properly for months.

The layers of foundation didn’t hide the blemishes.

‘What can I do? I’m the only family she has.’ The woman made kissy noises as she patched up her blood-red lipstick.

A door opened further back in time. Other lips, bubblegum pink, kissing my cheek. My mummy had been Red Lips’s sister. She smelt of light perfume and had a silvery laugh. Her long fair hair brushed my tummy when she leant over to tickle me. I giggled.

The doorbel rang.

‘Stay here, poppet.’ She put up the side of the travel cot.

A rumbling voice in the corridor. Daddy. We didn’t want him to find us, did we, Mummy? Why was he here? I clutched my lop-eared rabbit tight, listening to them in the hal .

‘But you’re not my soulfinder, Ian—we both know that. Miguel is. I’m going to him and you can’t stop me!’ Mummy’s voice was ugly. She was real y cross, but she was also scared. I felt scared.

‘What about the child? What about me? You can’t leave England with her!’

‘You never wanted her before—you’re just jealous!’

‘That’s not true. I’m not letting you do this.’

‘I have to be with him. You of al people should understand.’

‘Go then. But I’l take my daughter with me.’

They were getting nearer. I whimpered. The room was red with anger and the brash gold of love. A shadowy man plucked me from my bed and hugged me to his chest. The mouse nightlight exploded—

bulb fragments flying.

‘Mouse!’ I screamed.

Mummy was shaking with anger. ‘You lost Di too young—lost your soulfinder—and I’m real y, real y sorry, Ian. But against al the odds, I found mine after I’d given up and I have to go to him. Now just put her down!’

Daddy squeezed me tighter. He was shaking.

‘Why should I be the one left with nothing, Fra

The carpet began to smoke under his feet. I sobbed.

‘Stop it, Fra

‘You’re not taking her from me!’ Mummy’s temper flared and my bed went up in flames. ‘I won’t leave my baby behind.’ She reached out, tugging at my sleep suit.

The burning bed spun in the air and slammed into her, throwing her into a wal .

‘Mummy!’ I screwed my eyes shut.

I never saw them again.

Another image. Auntie Red Lips had col ected me from the hospital. I was the only one to have survived the fire—miraculously floated out of the house by unseen forces and found curled up on the dew-damp grass. Now we lived in a flat. I was stil cold, my dress filthy. I was tiny—my head not even reaching the door handles. There was loud music in the main room; I’d been told to keep out of the way so was hiding in the hal way.

‘Don’t look at me like that!’ It was the driver man again; he had a friend with him this time. He kicked out when I didn’t move fast enough. I scurried back, pressing myself against the wal , trying to pretend I wasn’t there. I watched as he passed the other man something and got money in exchange.

‘He cheated you,’ I whispered.

The second man stopped and knelt beside me.