Fire Heir - First Three Chapters

Chapter One

Fire flickered at the tips of Abigail’s fingers as she glanced over at Charlotte Sheridan. She could hit that cow with a Fireball in less than ten seconds and take the smug look off her face. But was it worth it? One hint that she wasn’t playing her role and The Elite would find some other punishment for her.

Charlotte glared back at her, with one of those looks that only Charlotte could manage, simultaneously full of distain and distrust. And the worst thing was, Abigail knew she deserved that look. It was her fault that the whole Universa had spent four months, wasting several hours every Saturday, practicing Latin under Lucas White’s supervision, instead of learning something actually practical with Josef’s support.

The Fireball glowed in her hand changing from a dull to vibrant red as Abigail glowered at Lucas. It was definitely worth hitting that murdering git with a Fireball. The fire intensified in her hands, spreading down her arm, through her veins and fuelled her very being. One throw, straight to the head and he’d get what he deserved. It would take just seconds and it wasn’t as if The Elite could make her suffer any more than she was already.

“Abi,” Jessica Turner whispered, “it’s not worth it.”

“You sure?”

Jessica smiled. “Positive.”

Abigail smothered the Fireball, crushing it between her hands. “Fine.”

She looked back at the purple leather-bound book. She had to keep ignoring the daydreams of watching Lucas’ dance around the fire that she’d thrown at his feet. She needed to stick to the pointless studying that The Elite were insisting on. There was absolutely no bloody point to Latin translations. It wasn’t like they would actually help her abilities progress. It was just a stupid useless language that The Elite insisted writing their books in.

Abigail huffed in a breath and grabbed her fountain pen. It would be equally easy to throw that at him. She could almost picture the pen cutting through his forehead and ink splattering his shirt. Surely that was better for her sanity than imagining herself throwing a Fireball at him. Abigail smiled at the thought, although she knew that both daydreams would come to nothing. She thrusted a new cartridge into the pen and copied out the phrases and translations that she would need to learn for her next session.

“I don’t know why you’re so pissed off.” Charlotte kept her words quiet enough so that Lucas’ eyes didn’t move from the book he was reading. “This is because of you.”

“Charlie, leave it out.” Jessica whispered as she looked over to Michael Clarke for support.

Michael glanced over at Jessica and waited for her to smile at him. “Abi doesn’t need this.”

“Yeah, because she didn’t try to start a rebellion,” Charlotte twirled her brown hair around her finger. “Oh wait, she did.”

“It wasn’t like that,” Jessica said.

“How do you know? Do you still believe she’s the golden girl? The Heir with extra special status? Must we bow at your feet?” Charlotte paused, allowing Abigail time to hit back with a comeback. “Should we be grateful that we have Mr White teaching us and watching ours and our families’ movements instead of it being Mr Keene as The Elite does damage control?”

Abigail, instead, bit down her lip as the fire flickered again at her fingertips. If she spat back at Charlotte, she wasn’t sure that she could trust herself to stop at firing just words. Declan Keene may head The Elite but to her Lucas would always be the greater evil. Her frustration was bubbling so close to her temper these days, desperate for a release, that bringing herself back under control would be nearly impossible.

“What’s wrong, Abigail?” Charlotte continued, jabbing away at Abigail further. “Feeling guilty? Stupid? Especially since you’re the one who benefits from the system being our all-important Heir.”

“I never asked for that!”

“Is that why you are so intent on screwing up our world then.” Charlotte stole another glance over at Lucas. “You’re not worthy of your status.”

“With that attitude, you should be a Keeper yourself.”

“Abi,” Jessica said. “Not in front of Mr White.”

Abigail held up her hands in mock surrender. “Fine, I’ll be a good girl.”

“Looks like that’s all you can be, now.” Charlotte kept her voice very low. “You’re lucky that you’re an Heir. People do less than you and end up dead or with a one-way ticket to the Carcer. So, what makes you different? Unless you were doing a double agent job on the Keepers. Look how many you got killed. Such a perfect Heir.”

Fire flamed upwards from Abigail’s hand, shooting straight towards the hut’s ceiling as she swore. She hadn’t wanted any of it to happen. When she discovered that the Keepers wanted to kill people and not just destroy systems, that was when she had tried to put a stop to things. She had never dreamed that The Elite would have attacked like that but Declan’s commands and lack of mercy on that field had been absolute. She’d been naïve on both counts. She dismissed her doubts. She should have known better. They had murdered her mum.

The Elite had to go.  Abigail was shaking as she curled the flames in her hand inwards, into a ball. Tears escaped from her brown eyes. As they streaked down her cheeks, she tried to focus on the ball of fire that had formed in her hand. She didn’t want to think of that day. She didn’t want to think of that field and what had happened there. A lump swelled in her throat. Aaron had died in that field.

“Perfect Heir,” Charlotte said, her eyes focused on the fire in Abigail’s hand. “That’s how your grandmother acts, isn’t it? Fireballs at the ready?”

Abigail closed her fist, extinguishing the fire in her palm as she drew backwards. She was nothing like her grandmother. She wouldn’t be their perfect Heir. Her hand crisply flew forward and made crunching contact with Charlotte’s face. She pulled it back for another hit as Jessica caught her arm, holding her back.

“Don’t!” Jessica whispered, as Abigail struggled against the restraint. “She’s a bitch, but you can’t hit her in front of him.”

Lucas was on his feet in an instant, his book falling to the floor, creasing its pages as his hands flew up. A gust of wind forced both Abigail and Jessica into the same bookcase, scattering books to the floor and leaving them gasping for breath as Lucas sent Charlotte to the other side of the hut, knocking the small table with her feet as she flew. Abigail picked herself up, before reaching out to help Jessica up. Massaging her aching side, she sent Lucas a glare. She wouldn’t be surprised to see some new bruises there in the morning.

Lucas sent Abigail, a very satisfied smile, as if he had been waiting for this moment for weeks. The smug git loved seeing her suffer and since Abigail had forced herself to behave, Lucas hadn’t had any excuse to attack, until today. That smile though was almost as if he was tipping his hat to her stupidity. Abigail used her hand to push her red hair out of the way, being careful to flash a ‘v’ symbol at Lucas so subtly that only he saw it.

“Explanation,” Lucas said, turning to Charlotte.

Charlotte picked up a tissue to stem the blood flowing from her nose. “She attacked me.”

“She deserved it.” Abigail cradled her throbbing right hand; she’d put a hell of a lot of force and frustration into that blow. “She started it!”

“And you were stupid enough to react,” Lucas said. “You are a disgrace!”

“And you’re not?”

Abigail cursed her words even as they came out. She hadn’t meant to say them aloud. She was hardly in a position to criticise him openly. Why couldn’t she stop herself? Why couldn’t she give herself a minute to think things through first? She had spent four months carefully playing the good girl, rarely raising her head and doing what she was told, no matter what was said. She’d ignored every temptation and she’d just blown all that with one flash of temper.

“I, Abigail, am not the person on trial next Wednesday,” Lucas said.

Abigail sank back to the floor, the words hitting her harder than any of Charlotte’s boulders would have. “Next Wednesday?”

“Yes, next Wednesday, you will be held accountable for the 20th March. The Elite has got many an Heir who have temporarily forgotten their role back under control and reminded them of their place in society. You will be no different.” Lucas laughed. “I am looking forward to seeing what Declan does with you.”

Abigail let herself sink further to the floor at those words. She counted out five long breaths. She couldn’t afford to lose it here, any more than she already had. An explosion of temper was one thing, showing that she might be scared was something completely different. She wasn’t some weak little girl. She was stronger than that. She had landed herself in this mess. She could deal with it, but how? Should she be feeling relieved or terrified at the news the date had been set. The Elite were going to make an example of her. That was a given. But all the waiting, all the doubts would be over and maybe, just maybe, that would help the nightmares stop.

Jessica took Abigail’s hand in hers and let cold water from her own hand gush over Abigail’s throbbing hand, calming the pain. At least physically.  “Abi, it will work out.” She paused, waiting for a response. “Ab?”

“I’m not sure. Shylock wants his pound of flesh.”

“They need you.” Jessica whispered. “They won’t hurt you.”

Abigail shook her head. “You don’t know that, Jess.”

“Ab, trust me, trust Josef, it will work out.”

“Exsisto Quietas,” Lucas silenced them as he settled back in his seat and returned to his book, fixing his cold blue eyes on Abigail, “Unless there’s a problem with anything else. Is there, Abigail?”

Abigail forced herself to swallow several comments that were itching to escape her lips. She smiled sweetly back at him, a smile that even her grandmother would be happy with. “Of course not.”

“Get back to work then,” Lucas said. “I wouldn’t want my report on you to be anything less than favourable. Or should I say any worse than you have already made it.”

Abigail formed a bright red Fireball in her hand and let it hover. She bit back the temptation to throw it at Lucas or even Charlotte, before she crushed it and set to work on forming another. She had become an expert at forming these balls and throwing them in the last eight months. Now she could conjure them without thought.

Long gone was the time when she needed a trigger, although she was positive that she would have no difficulty getting her temper to flare. It was always bubbling just under the surface these days. She was pissed off about so many things but unless someone knew her well it was almost impossible to tell. She had been playing the good little Guardian since those mistakes in March. She couldn’t have cared less about what The Elite told her to do, but too many people were suffering because of her right now for her to do anything else stupid.

Chapter Two

Abigail kept to herself and just about managed to get through the rest of the hour without any further incident or comments from Lucas or even from Charlotte. She needed to keep her cool and look like she was working, even if her mind had gone into overdrive. She was about to be hung, drawn and quartered. That’s what absolute monarchy rulers like The Elite did to traitors. Only the people on that field hadn’t all been traitors and she had to protect them. If The Elite didn’t know their names, then she wasn’t going to be the one to tell them.

She wouldn’t let them be hurt, like Aaron had. She’d be damned if she would lose another boyfriend to The Elite. They weren’t getting Curtis. He understood her in a way that no one else could. He’d escaped that field as well, and she couldn’t lose that. She wouldn’t let him suffer.

Abigail was the first to her feet when, just after noon, Lucas ended the hellish session and dismissed them. She said a quick goodbye to Jessica and pulled out her mobile phone. She flicked through her messages; they were all from Curtis. He could wait. He wanted reassurance and she was in no position to give that right now. She fired back a quick response that she was off to collect her GCSE results and would see him later.

Ignoring all the looks she was getting, Abigail left the hut and headed out of the Erudito, as fast as she could, cursing her slow movements. The stiffness of sitting for so long and the slow recovery from her injuries was still taking its toll on her. She wanted to be back running. Just one step in front of the other, as she flew down the track, leaving her thoughts at the starting blocks. But, instead, she was left with a slow walk and barrage of ideas attacking her mind. She needed to compose herself. She needed to get her thoughts back together instead of running away with increasingly worse futures and she wasn’t going to be able to do that on her own. She needed a calming influence, she needed to see Josef.

Abigail paused as she reached the Porta and glanced over her shoulder, checking that the Guardian entranceway was empty. She turned anti-clockwise, gazing into each of the tunnels. Erudito empty. Cutlus empty. Justicia empty. Vicus empty. Abigail stared upwards looking for a portal, but no-one appeared. Curtis had spent the last few days, no, make that, weeks, raising objections about her need to see Josef. She went down to the Vicus, emerging from the tunnel and appearing in the middle of a mass of streets that intertwined. It had taken many visits down here before she could make her way through the stone-clad Victorian style housing without getting lost.

She lit her hand up with a Fireball as the streets darkened with each twist and turn. Even in the middle of the day in August, this place was unnervingly dark. The houses loomed over her and the close proximity and narrow streets sent a shiver down her spine. She wasn’t sure that she would ever get used to this part of the Vicus. She couldn’t dismiss the feeling that someone was following her.

Her heart pounded hard against her chest, instead of the familiar flutter that the inner circles of the Vicus normally brought. Her head turned within a split second in varying directions as she heard little noises. She was positive that the people walking behind her were watching her. This was nothing like being spied on in the centre of the Erudito, on an open field, where other people would be able to see an attack.

Abigail paused as she shook her head. This was all Lucas’ and to a lesser extent Charlotte’s doing. Telling her the trial date and her family was being watched had put her on edge. She was just being paranoid. People may want her to suffer. But she was an Heir and an important Heir at that. She was protected. Abigail took in a deep breath, making herself wait for the release before she started walking.

She needed to stay calm, composed and confident. Those were qualities that she normally had in abundance. It was nothing to walk through this alley and it was the quickest route to Josef’s house. Her pace quickened as she headed down the next two streets and turned onto a third. She rushed to the door of one the Victorian terrace houses and hammered her fist on the door of number twenty-four several times until it was pulled open.

“Hey, Clay,” Abigail said as calmly as she could as a man with dark blond hair opened the door.

“J,” Clay shouted up the stairs, “Your girlfriend’s bratty sister is here.”

“I’ll be right down,” Josef called down the stairs.

The tension in her body began to ease as she heard Josef’s voice. She looked around the small hallway. There was nothing unnerving about this place, unless you wanted to comment on the decoration. The trainee Dons had either no time, no interest or no money to put into any repairs, meaning they had settled for covering over the cracks in the wall with a variety of band posters. There was nothing wrong and no one had been following her.

“Clay,” Abigail made sure that the door was shut. She may be calmer, but she wasn’t stupid. There were so many people who would see reporting her actions as a great way to gain favour with The Elite. “You still don’t know anything about me coming here, okay?”

“Who are you scared about finding out about your visits, Abi?” His green eyes fixed her with a stare, demanding an answer. “Your family? Your boyfriend?”

“I’ve no issue with Holly or Beth knowing I’m here.”

“So, it’s Curtis.”

Abigail glared at him. “Leave Curt to me.”

“You know he got into a fight right in the centre of the Erudito yesterday.”

Air stuck in her throat and her hands crunched into fists as she resisted the urge to swear and slam her foot into the wall. She was supposed to have been with Curtis yesterday, but texted him an excuse. She hadn’t been in the mood to deal with him, but she couldn’t avoid him like that again. If The Elite found out, it would be her fault. You didn’t just start fights in centre of the Erudito, The Elite were very fast to investigate those. If Curtis wasn’t careful, he would blow the cover that she had spent months building for him.

“He had his reasons,” Abigail said.

“He’s going to end up in the Justicia. You don’t need that.” A frown knitted his brow. “You don’t deserve how he treats you. Unless you view this as another way to punish yourself for what happened with the Keepers. Because if you do, that’s rubbish. None of us blame you for what happened with them.”

“Enough people blame me for the Keepers, even if you don’t.” Abigail smiled at him as she put her defensive shield back in place. “Besides, at least I have a boyfriend, what’s going on with your love life, Fisher? Still nothing?”

“Harsh, Cooper.” He flashed her an irresistible smile. “Harsh.”

“Abi.” Josef reached the bottom of the stairs, pulling his t-shirt over his bare torso. Abigail forced herself to blink. Josef was Holly’s boyfriend. “I had a late night, last night. Is there anything new?”

Abigail nodded. “Can we go to the living room?”

“I get the hint.” Clay said. “I might go and see if anyone is causing fights in the Erudito.”

“Funny.”

“I thought so.”

Josef waited for Clay to leave, “What was that about?”

“Nothing.” She opened the door to the living room. “He was just teasing me about Curt.”

Josef followed her in. “You should give his name in. That’s what my grandfather wants, names. You should give them Curtis’ name, before they find it out anyway.”

Abigail ignored the saggy red sofa and settled herself on the floor, letting her back rest against the bare wall. She glanced down and let her fingers slip in between a threadbare section of the rug. She weaved her hand in and out, trying to undo the knots with it. An impossible task but something that seemed more achievable than anything else. At least it was something that would keep her sitting still.

“I can’t, no, not can’t, I won’t.”

“Then make that clear to him. He owes you eternal gratitude for keeping quiet. They want names, Ab, you tell The Elite, that Curtis is a Keeper and things would get easier for you.”

“I don’t deserve things to get easier on me and Curt did nothing that deserves The Elite knowing he was a Keeper.” She felt her voice shudder as the image of Nick pleading with her grandmother was replayed in her head. “I’m the reason that his best friend is dead.”

“Abi…”

“Forget it.” She got to her feet. “There’s no need to try to make me feel better about this. It was my fault.”

Josef placed his hand on the door, blocking her exit. “Stop it.”

She looked at him, briefly weighing up her options. She was sure that she could get past him, but she didn’t want a fight. Instead of forcing her way past him, she turned to look out the window, staring out to the dark street, where people watched her every move.

“Why? Because other people are there to tell me how I screwed up.”

His hand fell on her shoulder and he turned her round to face him. “Ab.”

“Don’t.”

He held her gaze in complete silence as if he was daring her to speak. She met his gaze, challenging him and letting her eyes and emotions meet with his, until he gave in. “Okay. What’s the news?”

“Your dad’s given me a date for the trial.”

“Next Wednesday. I’ll be there. So will Holly and Beth.”

Her breath stuck in her throat. Her hands tightened, like she had been petrified. Ice crawled through her veins. Abigail continued to stare at him as the seconds ticked into minutes. “Why I am the last to hear about these things?”

“You’re considered a flight risk. They don’t want to give you too much time to think of a way to escape.”

“If I was going to run, I’d have done it already. I’ve had the plan in place for months.”

“What’s keeping you here?”

“Apart from the fact I’m not going to let anyone else get hurt because of me?” Abigail glanced down at the floor, not wanting to meet his eyes. “Running doesn’t offer very appealing options. I’m not going to end up on the streets. I’m going to make something of myself, I swear that on the Spirits. I’m going to make my mum proud.” She shrugged, trying to dismiss her words, to play them off with a joke. “Besides, my leg is not up for a long distance run yet.”

“Your mum’s already proud of you.”

“I doubt that. I was hardly the ideal daughter when she was alive and since then, I’ve done nothing but screw everything up.”

He shook her head. “You don’t see yourself as you actually are. You’ve done so many things to be proud of.”

“Making up for my screw ups doesn’t count.”

“I think that’s one of the hardest things that anyone can do.”

Abigail turned back to the window and looked out of it. “I should get going. I’m meant to be picking up my results and gran will freak if she can’t locate me for long. Not that that wouldn’t be great to see, but it’s not worth the grief.”

“I’ll see you later at your dad’s then.” He said as she turned back round. “And good luck with the results.”

Abigail flashed him a smile, trying to regain that easy manner that they used to have. “I don’t need luck, I’m brilliant, remember.”

Josef laughed, “I thought it was impressive that you called yourself.”

Her smile relaxed in a more genuine and less forced one as she headed for the door. “Yeah, I’m that too.”

Abigail headed back into the dark streets, using a Fireball to guide her way back to the Porta and refusing to look back over her shoulder. At least coming to see Josef had helped, she had actually managed to relax little while she was there. If only she could bottle up that piece of Josef that could make her smile, no matter what else was going on. She could make out a shuffling sound behind her, but she didn’t want to focus on that. If someone came for her, whatever they did to her would at least be quicker than what The Elite had planned. Besides, it was probably just someone on surveillance duty for The Elite.

She let the Fireball fall to the ground in the Guardian entranceway, opening a portal. She stepped through it and reappeared in one of her school’s playing fields. She paused briefly, looking around the football pitch. This place had been her destiny for so long. She had been the centre of attention for all the right reasons, the star player, the fast runner, the powerful athlete. That was before another, more powerful one had got in its way. Her phone beeped. So much for dreams.

Abigail glanced down at her mobile phone to see her grandmother’s name flash up. She ignored it. She would only be demanding to know where she was and telling her to get home. The problem was that she didn’t live at her home anymore, she was now forced to stay at her grandmother’s cold house. She flicked through the mobile phone, as well as her grandmother’s missed calls there were some more messages from Curtis, both Holly and Beth had texted to ask what her results were. Abigail headed into the school reception to pick up the results envelope. Once back in the field, she tore open the envelope and smiled. One Grade 9, three Grade 8s, five Grade 7s and one Grade 6 was better than she had expected. Still ignoring her grandmother, she fired back texts to Holly and Beth. Maybe she wasn’t a complete waste of space.    

Chapter Three

Abigail forced herself to hold her head up high as she pushed open the door to her grandmother’s house. She stepped over the threshold, preparing herself for battle. She wasn’t scared of her grandmother and she wouldn’t let herself be intimidated by her. Granted she was much younger, less experienced and perhaps a little rasher but she could match her in any fight, physical or verbal. In fact, she took great pleasure in matching her grandmother in fights. She wasn’t corrupt and nor did she send Fireballs after innocent people. She crunched her hands in and out of their usual fists as she headed down the corridor.

“Abigail, get in here.”

She bristled at the use of her full name. She wasn’t an Abigail unless she was in serious trouble and even then, she was only an Abigail to her parents and the odd teacher that didn’t know any better. Not that her parents were here, to Abigail her anymore, her grandmother had seen to that. No matter how much time had passed and would pass in the future, Abigail would never forgive her for that.

Abigail closed the front door behind her. She hated this house. Everything had its specific place. The house was cold, detached and regimented. The photographs were staged; people sat in set poses without any spontaneity or laughter. They were fake, unnatural. She knocked over the picture of her mother as a teenager that was on the side table. Her mum was sitting still, straight and posed, dressed in a prim golden summer dress. Such a stark contrast to reality. Her mum had worn paint-stained jeans, old t-shirts and chopsticks in her hair. She wasn’t a mute but alive, loud and passionate. A gulp the size of a tennis ball stuck in Abigail’s throat. That was the reason her mum was no longer here.

“Gran,” she said with as much bitterness as she could muster.

“Where have you been?” Her grandmother entered the hallway. “You are still grounded. I have not revoked that status. You are to be in our world where my friends can watch you or you are to stay in this house.”

Abigail paused, tempted not to say anything, flick her a two fingered salute and walk straight past her. She had told her at breakfast that she would be going to pick up her results. But it didn’t surprise her that her grandmother hadn’t paid attention to anything other than her latest lecture this morning. She smiled sweetly. The temptation just to go upstairs to her allocated cell of a bedroom was growing. Her grandmother couldn’t force her to talk if she didn’t want to. If grounding her until she gave up all the names of the Keepers hadn’t worked, how could she expect anything else to work? But today wasn’t a battle and she hadn’t done anything wrong for once.

Her smile grew and she cocked her head slightly as she held up the envelope. “I had to pick up my results and sorry gran, they’re good enough for A-levels, so you won’t be trapping me in that world anytime soon, if you don’t want people asking questions. I’d like to see you take that to Social Services, that I’ve gone or been mistreated or whatever. You have played that card to get me here, you can’t take back. I’m stuck in my world not yours.”

“At least you are not as stupid as you appear to be if you have the grades that you need. However, it would be nice to see your brain working elsewhere.”

Abigail put the envelope back in her pocket. “Thanks for the vote of confidence, granny-dear.”

“I do need you to be capable to be my Heir in time.” Her grandmother paused. “So, you can use that intelligence to focus on your Guardian studies.”

“Whatever you say gran.” Abigail shrugged and forced her voice to sound as carefree as possible. “Is there any more quality time you want to spend with me? Any other lectures? Because if you’re done insulting me, I’d like to spend time with people I care about.”

“I have been talking to Lucas.”

“He’s far too young for you gran and unless I’m very much mistaken, he already has a wife who sucks his…”

“ABIGAIL!”

“Ego.” Abigail gave her grandmother one of her most innocent smiles. “Sucks his ego, gran.”

Her grandmother’s hand twitched, glowing red at the tips of her fingers. “What happened in your lesson this morning?”

“I kept my temper, pretty well, if you ask me.”

“By hitting that girl in your Universa.”

“Charlotte deserved someone to hit her for months. So has Lucas and I haven’t hit him. You and that murderer should still be locked up in the Carcer after killing mum.”

“GET. TO. YOUR. ROOM. NOW.”

Abigail raised her hand in mock salute as she used one of her dad’s favourite insults. “Yes, Madam Milk Snatcher.”

“NOW!”

Her grandmother’s face glowed scarlet and her hand had turned a deep red. It looked like she was ready to start lobbing Fireballs at her. Probably, the only thing that was stopping her was Abigail’s status as her Heir. It wouldn’t be anything like love. Her grandmother didn’t care about her, she wasn’t sure that she even liked her. Fire flickered in her grandmother’s hand.

Abigail’s lungs fell in on themselves, suffocating her, crushing her for a moment before her spirit resurfaced. She was going suffer for her words, but she couldn’t bring herself to care. She had been playing good little Guardian for too long now and it hadn’t worked. The Elite still watched her every move, people stalked her movements and reported on her actions. There wasn’t a week when they hadn’t found an excuse to punish her for something, so if she was going to be grounded for every second breath, she might as well deserve it.

“GO!”

Abigail turned on her heals and headed upstairs. Maybe the best way to get to her grandmother was not to react. The upstairs of her grandmother’s house consisted of three bedrooms, two decent sized rooms and one tiny-boxed sized room as well as a family bathroom. Abigail had been allocated the small box room. The bare white walls and the number of unpacked boxes piled up around it did nothing to enhance the size of the room. She had unpacked very few things since moving into the house eleven weeks ago. To unpack anything but the essentials would make the move seem permanent and she refused to see it as that. She would be out of here soon.

She flopped down on her hard single bed, reached over and pulled her laptop off the floor. She paused as her background picture came into focus. It was one of her mum’s last painting, a picture collage based on a series of family photographs. Her mum was kissing her dad, her mum’s hands cupping her dad’s face and her dad’s hands in her mum’s red hair, in a kiss that should be illegal for anyone of their age. Beth was sat at a table, pausing in motion with her paint brush resting in her hand, she hadn’t any other cares, not least how she looked with paint staining her clothes, face and even strands of her brown hair. Holly was in a chair absorbed in a book, her feet hanging over the arm of the chair and half biting her lip. And Abigail was on the football pitch, she had her arm flung out and she was screaming out instructions, leading her team on to victory.

Pulling herself away from the picture, Abigail typed in ‘custody battles’ to Google and she grabbed her mobile phone. She scrolled through the mobile phone and loaded up the group chat with her sisters, pausing for just a moment, she pressed the call button. Waiting while it rang, she scanned the laptop screen. She had to find a loophole or something that could get her back home. She needed to find something before the next appointment with Social Services to check on her wellbeing.

She needed something more than the fact that she didn’t want to live with her grandmother. Just saying those words hadn’t helped her when she had raised that point in May. Instead, they had focused on her recent injuries, the trouble she had got into at school and that damning criminal record of occasional drinking activity and the one fire she had never intended to start just after her mum’s death and before she had even known that she was a Guardian. Her behaviour to try and get her dad’s attention following her mum’s death had made her protests invalid.

“Ab,” Holly was the first to pick up the call, “Are you okay? Josef said you were coming over after you picked up your results.”

“And they were pretty good, more than pretty good, they were excellent Ab.” Beth joined in the call and followed the train of the conversation. “Looks like there is actually a brain in that head of yours. I was starting to think that you had headed too many footballs for that to be the case.”

“Funny.”

“So why didn’t you come over?” Holly said.

“The she-devil had different plans.” Abigail said. “She demanded my presence here and you know how she gets when she does that.”

“Do you want me to have words?” Beth said.

“I’m not sure that would help things.” Abigail said.

“Why is gran pushing things?” Holly said.

“Apparently I’m grounded.”

“She needs to give that line a break.” Beth said.

Holly sighed, a loud sigh that could easily be heard down the phone, “What have you done?”

“Nothing for months. I’ve been on my best behaviour.”

“What did you do?” Holly said.

Abigail shrugged. “Talked back to Mother Gothel, made her go red and I could swear I got her on the verge of making a Fireball. She nearly lost it. Which is very satisfying.”

“And very dangerous,” Beth said.

“She won’t hurt me. She can’t. She needs her precious little Heir. So, she can’t do anything physically, and if that’s the case, then there’s not much worse that she can do. I’m stuck here and grounded, locked in here unless there is Guardian duties or something with school as I can’t be seen to miss that, before this. It’s not like being well behaved is getting me anywhere.”

“Ab, I’m the first to get where you are coming from, with gran and The Elite, but you have a court case coming up,” Beth said. “You need to try and make things better; you need to impress her. If you want someone to fire at her, let me do that. You need to keep your head down.”

“I can fight my own battles. I’m not a little kid.”

“I’m not saying that you are.” Beth said. “I’m just saying, I don’t want you to get hurt. There’s no need for that. I’m not saying you need to do everything she says, just don’t antagonise her.”

“You’re one to talk there. I think gran may actually hate you more than me and you spend every second winding her up,” Abigail said. “Right now, I couldn’t care less about impressing her. It won’t make a difference.”

“You don’t know that,” Holly said. “You have to try, Ab.”

“I do.”

Silence hung on the phone for over a minute before Holly spoke. “It will get better.”

“When? You’ll be off at Cambridge, Hols. And Beth, you’ll be back up at St Andrews with Leigh, doing your Masters. And, me. I’m here alone with just gran for company as I do my Guardian duties and go to school. That’s it. I can’t even go for a run yet. I have nothing.”

“We can be back in a second if you need us.” Holly said. “We can just use the Porta.”

Abigail dropped her voice; she hated admitting this to herself, let alone others. “I need you.”

“We are not going anywhere,” Beth said. “You’re stuck with us and we will just have to keep finding a way to put up with you, because you aren’t going anywhere either.”

“That’s not helping at moment, I know you mean to but it doesn’t. It’s just words.”

Holly spoke without pause, “I’ll be right over.”

“No, no you can’t,” Abigail gulped down the need to see her sister, letting it rest right in the pit of her stomach where no one could see it and it wouldn’t do anyone any harm, except maybe herself. Maturity and responsibility sucked, it was so much easier being immature and rash. “Gran’s really pissed off tonight and I didn’t help that situation. It’s because of me that she is ready to fling a Fireball at the next person who walks through the door. It’s my fault and I won’t have her take that out on either of you.”

“Okay, I won’t come,” Holly said. “But Ab, seriously, would you stop beating yourself up. You made a mistake, that’s all. You’ve been through hell since mum died. Making a few mistakes is the least to be expected.”