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  I was dimly aware of passing the tall metal tower, of heading out towards the outlying streets, an area of the Prolet world I’d not visited before. If I’d just stopped to think for just one second, if I’d allowed myself to listen to Max’s hoarse voice a few paces behind, I’d have rationalized that it just couldn’t be. But instead I made stubborn sense of the impossible, and sprinted towards the frail brave tones that had existed only in my memory for nine long months.

  Right until a firm wrestle brought the ground up to meet me, filling my nose and mouth with pungent, red iron dirt.

  ‘Get off! Max!’ I seethed as his solid weight propelled me under the metal awning of a dingy trading hut. I rolled over to face him and paused. It wasn’t Max at all. It was Pan, terror etched all over his face, his long white ears flat against his head as Max dived in next to us.

  Furiously, I brought my feet up beneath me, just as Pan pressed a shaky finger against my lips and pointed outwards. And something in his eyes made me look past the broken shop façades, past the roughly fashioned tools and scattered, wizened vegetables – right to the end of the street. Where grim reality returned with a crash.

  From this vantage, I could just see the square beyond. It was derelict and ramshackle, like everywhere else in this squalid Prolet world. But it was the centre of the square that held all my attention. There was an elongated stone plinth, flickering with intermittent blue light, a moving image, exactly like the one we saw in Pantheon the day we emerged from the Prolet work trams.

  And he was there, a lone figure on top of the stone. It was just a projected image, but him all the same. Grandpa. Lying on the bed, a metal plate attached to his head and tight restraints securing his thin, weakened body. And a second blue figure, Octavia, was crowing over him, the epitome of an evil huntress from the bleakest of fairy tales. Except this was a real memory.

  In a flash I was back there, in Octavia’s personal experimentation room, face to face with the ice-bitch herself. Grandpa had been so physically weak, and still the most seasoned warrior for the outside; a warrior who’d used his last strength to save my life. And even though it was just a cruel image, his passion reached deep inside me like a clawed fist, dragging me back into reality.

  This wasn’t just about rescuing Lake or protecting the Book of Arafel; it was about being true to the feral will he’d nurtured inside me. It was about remembering all he’d taught us about Thomas’s vision for Arafel: about respecting the forest, knowing our place, and taking only what we needed to survive. It was about being an Outsider.

  And as I listened, I felt his wisdom course through my limbs like white water, steeling my nerve. Whoever was playing this knew we were here, that I was here. And it was being played directly to torture me. To weaken me.

  The picture crackled again, and when it cleared it had changed. Now it was time for the other ghost in my life. And I gazed, feeling my world crumble all over again. He was dressed in full Roman General regalia, his aquila insignia emblazoned across his military tunic and his helmet held firmly within the cusp of his arm. His tall, proud figure was standing alone in the square. Defying the world. The air felt thin, and I struggled to breathe as his swarthy face loomed and filled my vision. August.

  It’s not him. It’s not him, I repeated silently.

  It was just a detached, three-dimensional echo. A moment caught in a vast vaulted assembly room, which had to be Pantheon’s Senate.

  ‘Isca Pantheon needs to change.’

  His authoritative tone washed over the lifeless market stalls and streets like a warning given too late. The pictured fizzled and cleared again, revealing August standing in a different room, much like his own private quarters. He was talking to someone beyond the picture, and his face had changed. It was closed and guarded, the exact expression he’d worn for most of the time I’d known him before the Flavium.

  ‘I accept I may have acted hastily. Change and integration need to be introduced slowly.’

  I frowned as he nodded to whomever was standing beyond the pool of light.

  ‘The early integration analysis indicates a common stress symptom among the Prolet class, which may be a reaction to the existing vaccine to suppress independent will. Of course, the recent rioting cannot be tolerated.

  ‘Because of this, and the new investigation required, I would recommend a temporary suspension of all new Prolet privileges and reinstatement of the existing Pantheonite system.’

  I stared with mounting horror as this new August I didn’t recognize smiled and saluted. Had the Prolets also seen this?

  Then another voice.

  ‘And do you accept the mission from the Senate, Commander General Augustus Aquila?’

  August appeared not to hesitate.

  ‘Yes. I accept the mission to carry Isca Pantheon’s banner and find a sister site for our growing population. I do so in the hope that it will further the Biotechnology Programme’s Objectives; developing new experimental facilities, and pursuing existing Genetic Modification Programme aims.’

  I stared at the red, earthen ground staining my hands, like the blood of the Prolets.

  This rigid commander, flickering before me, was a complete stranger. A traitor. And yet the August I’d known had seen the outside and everything it could be. He’d promised he was going to find a new way for Isca Pantheon. He knew the lives of every Prolet man, woman and child depended on him, and now I was to believe he’d cast them all onto the pyre. For what? A secret ambition he’d been nurturing all along? Was this the real reason he’d remained behind?

  The picture fizzled out leaving only the murkiness of the Prolet underworld, and the heat of Max’s stare. He’d always suspected August capable of deceit. And he knew I’d refused to believe it. I’d brought us back to this place, shone a spotlight above our heads even, all to discover that August was a traitor of the worst order. A pretender and a coward. It couldn’t be worse.

  Everything was eerily quiet now. The moving image had disappeared completely, leaving a dusky veil that clung to every contour of the underworld. And it was so still I could hear Pan’s jagged breath as loudly as though it were my own.

  I surveyed our surroundings with a slow, sickening suspicion. There was no doubt Cassius knew we were here. Which meant there was only one certainty left. This was a trap.

  Chapter 11

  ‘Don’t move.’ Max’s whisper was low and steely.

  It was one of the few occasions I’d heard real fear in his voice, like the final few moments in the Flavium, before Eli calmed the griffin.

  I scanned the square again. It was completely empty. And then I saw them – distorted shadows, staring out of every crevice and gutter. Thick, hooded shadows, watching us.

  ‘Bas-i-lis-cus,’ Pan hissed under his breath.

  And in a breath I was seated cross-legged in Grandpa’s treehouse room, poring over the book of mythology and legend, staring at the king of serpent snakes, fabled to have a deadly touch and poisonous breath.

  ‘The basilisk reminds me of you, Talia – small but deadly!’ Grandpa had whispered. ‘It dripped venom in its wake, and could kill with just one look!’

  He’d hunched his shoulders and twisted up his face comically, while I’d burst out laughing. It was such a game back then, little more than a shared passion for the classics and mythology. But he’d been equipping me with a whole armoury. And I’d just made the stupidest decision of my life because of a weak, emotional reaction. I shot a glance at Max’s stoic face. He’d been so suspicious of August all along. How could I have got so much so wrong? Had he been watching me, watching August?

  ‘Ab-ove.’

  Pan’s stilted warning came just as a drop of something warm and viscous fell onto a pair of iron tongs lying discarded beside me. There was an acidic, bubbling noise as the liquid made contact with the forked end, and then the metal disappeared altogether. The tiny drop dissolved the thick, solid iron in less than a second.

  We were up and flying back down the st
reet within a heartbeat, August’s deceit clinging to me like raw shame.

  The entire Prolet population, including Aelia, were missing. Cassius’s Biotechnology Programme was already developing entirely new species. And most disturbingly of all, he knew a few images from the past would be enough to trap a stupid girl from the outside. I shot a look at Max’s grim profile, and was flooded with the worst kind of guilt.

  Then I looked behind us, and wished I hadn’t.

  The dirt track was completely awash with writhing black serpentine bodies, each with a thickened crested neck, much like a cobra. They were short, no longer than the length of my calf muscle, and possessed solid, muscular bodies and black eyes that shone like mirrors in the twilight. And they were gaining on us.

  I had no idea if their stare was venomous. How could such a thing even be possible? But this was Pantheon, and I couldn’t put anything past Cassius.

  ‘We need to get up high!’ I yelled, grabbing both Pan and Max and pushing them towards the iron-metal tower stretching up towards the cavernous ceiling. Max and I were scaling the giant ant-like structure within seconds. We were used to tree-running in Arafel, and the thick metal beams of the tower made for swift progress. I only paused to glance down once we reached the mid-level housing Tullius’s surgery.

  Which was when I realized Pan wasn’t with us at all.

  ‘Max!’ I yelled, reaching out to grip his arm. ‘Pan?!’

  I scanned the floor, before inhaling sharply.

  No wonder our climb had been so easy and unhindered. Pan was still at the bottom of the tower, using his muscular equine legs to kick the swarming basilisk back across the track as soon as they got close. He was strong, but the swarm was thickening every second. My mind flew back to the bat-infested cave. He’d saved us, despite his own palpable fear. And he had to be terrified now, and yet he was still putting us first. We had to do something.

  ‘Oh for the love of Arafel!’ Max groaned, turning and anchoring himself on a thick metal beam. He snatched up his crossbow, and began loading up the Roman arrows he’d filched.

  ‘Go on! Find Aelia!’ he yelled at me, without one iota of expectation.

  I didn’t even bother to answer. I’d already witnessed one noble-hearted Prolet sacrifice near everything for the sake of two Outsiders, and Pan reminded me of Unus in so many ways. My chest contracted. I couldn’t let myself wonder what fate had befallen the kind-hearted Cyclops who defied everything he was designed to be. But here and now, we could help Pan.

  ‘Why run when you can fly?’ I muttered to myself, reaching for a fraying rope that stretched end to end across the dirt street, before flipping myself over in a backwards somersault. Then pulling a foot up, I teetered there for a moment, finding my balance through my supple leather soles. I gritted my teeth, and in the next breath I was up and wobbling at least forty metres above the ground. It was high and unstable, but I’d walked worse in search of the best honey in the forest.

  ‘Just like a forage,’ I told myself, putting one foot in front of the other before throwing caution to the wind and running to the centre of the rope.

  It jerked and swayed like a restless snake, but somehow I found the centre and dropped down as though I were in a giant swing. Then, I let myself fall backwards so I was dangling upside down directly above the writhing creatures. From here I could see their shapes more clearly, and was awed by how thick and muscular their bodies were. They could undoubtedly climb the metallic tower given the chance. And there were also far more of them than we could hope to kill with our poisoned darts and arrows.

  ‘Pan! Max and I will hold them off – get climbing!’ I yelled, shoving the tiny treehouse dart tube between my lips and loading up a dart. I blew and it made contact with a basilisk rearing up close to Pan’s legs. It fell sideways with a thud.

  ‘Climb!’ I yelled again.

  But the tall silenus only shook his head with the saddest smile. It was a smile that reached through my ribcage and slowly squeezed my heart. My mind flew back to his watchful care of Lake, to his suffering on such meagre rations, to his horror when she was taken, and consequent determination that he had to rescue her. He’d turned into the most unlikely hero and friend, and now … why wasn’t he trying?

  I opened my mouth to yell again, but as he lifted his leg to kick another basilisk away, I caught a clear glimpse of the underside. Of a hoof protruding through thickened skin. An ice-cold realization flooded my veins instantly, leaving my skin cold and clammy.

  ‘Max!’ I yelled. Why hadn’t I thought of it before?

  ‘Pan can’t climb! He has hooves!’

  Max paled, and began descending swiftly, but before he could make any headway, Pan looked up and shook his head, mouthing two words.

  ‘Pro-tect Lake.’

  Then he smiled, in the most carefree way he’d ever smiled. And it was a smile that told me exactly what he was going to do. I opened my mouth, but there was no time and the scream clawing up my throat suffocated as he stepped quietly inside the swarm of serpents. They were all over him in a heartbeat, his muscular form remaining distinct as the heaving mass of basilisk coiled their strong leech-like bodies around his and sank their jaws into his pale flesh.

  For a few seconds, Max and I were too frozen to do anything but stare. The excited mound had attracted other basilisk swarming down the street, and swiftly the writhing mass grew. Like giant parasites celebrating an unexpected feast.

  ‘Tal, Tal!’ Max yelled hoarsely, collecting himself first. ‘We have to move. For Pan’s sake. He’s done this to give us a chance. So we can escape and find Lake!’

  I looked across at Max’s earnest face, my chest vibrant with pain, and knew he was right. To hesitate now would be to undo Pan’s bravery. And yet I’d never felt less like flying in my whole life.

  I swallowed. My mouth felt like sandpaper and there were no words.

  ‘For Lake, Tal?’ he urged.

  And somewhere, I found the will to move.

  This time, we didn’t stop climbing until we’d fallen through a rusty window onto the dark corridor floor that connected with Tullius’s rooms.

  Max slammed closed the small casement, and we sank down against the dank walls to catch our breath.

  ‘He just … walked into them,’ I whispered.

  Max’s eyes were dark and unreadable, his body language distant.

  ‘He knew,’ he muttered, after a beat.

  He stepped swiftly across the dark room, and I read the fresh uncertainty in his body.

  ‘Knew what?’ I asked, though I already knew I wasn’t going to like the answer.

  ‘That caring for someone screws you over!’

  I recoiled from his sudden anger, the flame between us guttering. And I was suddenly so mad. Mad because I couldn’t go back to those few days when I’d let myself be deceived by the worst kind of pretender. Mad because the August I’d fallen for didn’t actually exist. And mad because I’d known Max a lifetime, and he’d never made me feel the way August had in just a few days.

  ‘So we’re back here,’ Max added furiously, ‘chasing Aelia who has gone AWOL with the Book of Arafel because of her so-called strix-shit of a brother … who has as good as abandoned everyone! And now the good guys are dying … again! August was nothing but another Cassius, waiting in the wings, and now we’re running through this … this cesspit … being chased by creatures that have no place on this earth, and for what?

  ‘To help a population who’ve also disappeared off the face of the world! A community who’ve watched their own children do the only decent thing anyone in Isca Pantheon has done for centuries, and yet who would rather let them die of rat disease … than set foot outside the place in which they’ve coaxed out some chicken-crap excuse of an existence!’

  Silence hung in the slim corridor. I’d never heard Max so furious.

  And it hurt.

  ‘Fine!’ I forced out finally, my voice sounding tinny in the oppressive silence. ‘It’s my fault we’re he
re again. But you weren’t forced to come! And what about Aelia, Lake and the Book? What about the fact an entire population has completely disappeared? What about the look on Pan’s face when he ran from the tower? Didn’t you see it? There’s something else, Max! Something we’re not getting yet. Pan couldn’t tell us, but it involves Lake.

  ‘If you’re done, fine! Go home! I’m going to find Aelia and Lake, and then I’ll do what August started before he …’

  ‘… deserted Pantheon and everyone else he ever knew?’ Max cut in.

  I glanced at him brokenly, unable to deny anything, or control my own guilt. I pushed myself back up to standing, and the piece of paper Aelia tore from Thomas’s research rustled softly in my leather rations bag. I was sure it was some sort of message, but how could I share it with Max without breaking my promise?

  Maybe Grandpa was wrong to entrust the secret to a feral girl, who’d always acted far too rashly. Maybe it was just too big.

  ‘Max, I …’

  ‘Perhaps the Commander is strix-shit, though I think strix-breakfast might be more accurate by the time I’m done … But calling our home a cesspit? Now some might call that a little rude.’

  The voice was whimsical, and oddly recognizable.

  We turned slowly, and I was suddenly acutely aware of just how careless I’d almost been; of forgetting where we were and nearly blurting out a two-hundred-year-old secret. And now we had company.

  We pulled our weapons simultaneously, and levelled them at the shadows, just as the figure of a man emerged. An autumn-skinned, lithe man; with a Cerberus tattoo snaking up his neck.

  ‘Rajid!’ Max exclaimed, lowering his dagger while I kept my slingshot trained at his forehead.

  I still had no idea whether this man was friend or foe. Nothing in Pantheon was ever as it seemed. He’d helped Aelia steal the Book of Arafel, and I hadn’t forgotten our conversation in the forest. Had he already sold Arafel’s location to Cassius?