Post by Vanessa Winchester on Jul 1, 2009 18:01:58 GMT
“Vanessa, your sister is ready to see you, now.”
Ready. Okay. Right. Sure.
She must have been f**ked up pretty bad out there, anyway. No way in hell was her sister ever ready to see her. Every time they came within eyeshot of each other, the premature lines around her sister’s lips tightened and her eyes always widened, like a little electric shock had just spat itself down her throat. Vanessa always sort of assumed it was because her sister frequently forget her existence on purpose, and was therefore frequently surprised to realise that yes, Vanessa did exist, and yes, they really did hate each other that much.
So, you have to understand, when Vanessa was given such grim news as that her sister was actually ready and willing to see her, Vanessa was forced to prepare herself for the worst.
This battle had rocked.
Orchid Hill- for the first time in far too long- was feeling the burn.
Literally! Vanessa had watched with glee as the golden flames had danced their way down the blackened silhouette of Blueberg Forest. Gritty had told her their Warrior Deputy Head had started it. Now, that was what you called, ‘desperate’. And it was no d**n surprise. They’d been ordered to kill, and the Forces had taken up that particular command with gusto. You didn’t have to be one of those precious Elites to fire a gun. Magic they may be- but a bullet sure as hell got the job done, too.
Vanessa had killed tonight. Felt odd, that. It always did. Nothing really did prepare you. Vanessa remembered her first battle so clearly. They could give you all the pep talks they liked, but watching the light leave someone’s eyes… watching their body crumple beneath your blade…
They said it would be scary.
But they never said it would be so enthralling.
Bloodlust was a funny thing- like an oxymoron was pounding through your system. You knew it was wrong but it felt so right. The sight of a corpse you’d created was sickening- but the burst of adrenaline it gave you was absolute. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to drop your weapons and run way from that blazing battlefield.
But instinct is what drives you forward.
Gritty thought Vanessa too poetical about the whole thing.
“An oxy- what?”
“An oxymoron, you moron.”
Gritty had little appreciation for substance or meaning. “Nessa. It’s a battle. Go in, kick butt, run like hell. Got it?”
Must be peaceful having just the one brain cell.
Gritty was Vanessa’s best friend. She liked him because he was the epitome of manliness- i.e. he was vulgar and stupid- but he was also a closeted homosexual. A bit of a walking paradox in himself. He liked her ‘cause she was openly bisexual, and made him feel more at ease about all the sordid little wet dreams he had about various high-ranking commanders.
Enough said.
Actually, Gritty’s most recent crush just so happened to be on the medic who’d come to give Vanessa her most unfortunate news about her sister.
What’d happened?
Vanessa had been pulled out of a perfectly good victory (well, near enough) party to go and visit her sister at the medical unit, that’s what. According to Gritty’s medical man, Francesca had been caught in the flames sent through Blueberg Forest and damaged horribly. They’d been working on her burns for a while now, but they were pretty bad. He reckoned even Orchid Hill’s famous Head Carer would be challenged by her injuries. Still, they’d patched her up as best they could, and further Healing work would commence in the morning. Apparently, Francesca was lucky to be alive.
Vanessa knew Francesca sure as hell wouldn’t see it that way.
However, upon Vanessa’s entry into the medical unit, there was a reassuring moan form the end of the ward where her sister lay.
“Not you, please God, not you.”
“Francesca,” Vanessa’s teeth were bared in a painful grin as she approached. “You look…”
Like hell.
“Like hell,” Francesca’s head rolled back. “I know.”
The burns were minimal, so the medics had certainly done their work there. Only the unnatural raw redness to Francesca’s skin gave any indication as to how bad the burns had been.
That and the bald head and missing eyebrows.
If there was any reason any woman in Vanessa’s family had to feel good about themselves, it was this: they all had fantastic hair. The kinda hair most women would kill for. Their mother, Agnes, said it was due to their Spanish heritage, though not one of their veins had seen a drop of Spanish blood since the late 1600s. Each of Vanessa’s four sisters and herself had luxuriously thick, curling dark hair that fell in perfect waves to frame their faces.
Every one of Francesca’s chocolate curls had been burned to a crisp.
Hah! This was better than a party.
“Jesus, Francesca,” Vanessa’s grin could’ve split her face in two, “I guess this is why Mum and Dad always told us never to play with matches.”
“Haha, Nessie.”
Vanessa’s grin sloped into a scowl. “Frankie.”
“Oh, real mature.”
“You started it,” Vanessa tugged a lock of her own long hair forward, her fingers fanning through it. Francesca’s deep blue eyes watched the movement, her pupils contracting.
Both knew Francesca was jealous.
Honestly, Francesca had always been jealous. Francesca was smarter, but Vanessa was prettier, so she always got the attention her sister desired so. Of course, when the triplets were born, the two enemies united to deal with their common threat.
First, they tried to smother Elsie.
Next, they tried to drown Emily.
Finally, they tried to make Enid ‘fall’ out of her cot.
Then the triplet babies had made Francesca popular with all the other little 7 year old girls and Operation Bye Bye Baby Brats was a no-go, and a 3 year old Vanessa was left angry and resentful.
And she’d never forgiven her.
Francesca knew this. The beauty of it was, she didn’t care. She had nothing to gain by Vanessa’s favour. Despite being vaguely striking to look at, Vanessa was pretty unpopular with Francesca’s friends. In an army, there shouldn’t be such bitter divisions as cliques.
But there were.
The Elites were off on their own little cloud in the sky. Orla Ryder used to be okay before she got done in, and after that, the distance had grown. Most were too big-headed to bother bridging the gap between their lofty position in Hoodham’s lap and the barracks were the rest of the lower-ranking schmucks and herself ran around waving swords.
So that was… sort of a clique.
Then you had people like… well, Vanessa, really, though she would never be caught dead hanging around with the rest of them. They were the Wannabes. The ones so desperately trying to climb the hem of Hoodham’s trousers into his oh-so-comfy lap. This group made no secret of their ambitions and considered themselves ‘above’ every other member of the Forces. The funny thing was, they thought they were the only ones who yearned to join the ranks of people like the Elites. The surprise on their faces when hundreds of others turned up at the Preliminaries was almost comical.
Some people just couldn’t deal with a little competition.
Like Orchid- Vanessa was one of a handful willing to compare Orchid Hill and the Forces- they had their Carers in the form of their medics. Vanessa liked to think of them as one big happy family of Healers.
Then you’d all the divisions. All the different ranks. Sure boundaries were blurred. Vanessa had friends in every rank- every division- though these people were not Francesca’s idea of… ‘ideal’. But still, there was always, always that vague sense of… separation.
Only on the battlefield could those boundaries completely disintegrate. Vanessa could've fought alongside the likes of the late Orla Ryder herself and neither would’ve batted an eye. In the glory of battle- or perhaps simply the sheer savageness of it- the weakest member of the lowliest rank was equal to Hoodham himself. Francesca’s lot lived within Vanessa’s own division, and they was a petty bunch, at best, made up female cadets, the majority of whom were in love with at least one of the Blades boys.
Jesus. What was it about those Blades?
The best way to describe Francesca’s ‘friends’ would be… that they were like a pack of wolves. A volatile one. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. But should the slightest thing go wrong, the whole pack split and turned, snarling and snapping, in on itself.
Francesca’s lot didn’t like Vanessa. Not because she was bisexual- please, people these days were way past homophobia- and Vanessa was pretty, so at least she was tolerable in that respect. Nah, the thing that made them all dislike Vanessa so was that one of her favourite little pastimes was to prod and poke at various pack members, and make them go… a little nuts.
All it took was a simple-
“Guess who Sammy told me he slept with last night?”
Or a-
“You’ll never believe what Veronica called you the other day!”
Or even a-
“Hell, no wonder Yasmina thinks you belong in Orchid Hill.”
Alright. Alright. So Vanessa didn’t really have to repeat that stuff. She never lied- she was no liar- everything she told them was the truth. She guessed she repeated it because… well… she did it for fun. And she did it for revenge.
For the things they said about Gritty, her other friends and Evie-
Well. Vanessa gave as good as she got.
“Nessie, why are you here?”
God. Vanessa hated that name. “To check up on you, I guess.”
Francesca’s eyebrows- had she any left- would here have raised in disbelief.
“Uh huh.”
Vanessa shrugged. “The medic over there figured you might want some… ah… family support.”
There was a pause, then suddenly the sisters erupted into giggles. Every other patient in the unit jumped horribly at the unnatural sound of laughter, and turned their heads sullenly towards the chuckling pair. One affronted medic made an angry shushing noise in their direction.
Francesca promptly stopped.
Vanessa didn’t.
“Nessie-”
Keep laughing.
“Nessie-”
Keep laughing.
“Vanessa!”
Stop laughing.
“‘Bout time I heard you laughing.”
Francesca smiled weakly in response. “I don’t do giggling.”
“Your friends do,” Vanessa pointed out.
“Well,” Francesca shifted, “they’re all a little… younger than me.”
Age was a sensitive issue for Francesca. She was young enough- recently turned 22- but in this army, age meant everything. Vanessa was 17- she had time- but Francesca was getting on in years to be in the same division she was in when she was 16.
How depressing.
In all honesty, Francesca would rather be dead. Perhaps that’s why she did all sorts of stupid, crazy stuff in battle. She was an attention-seeker, deluded in that she thought if she died in battle she would become some sort of martyr. Maybe that’s why she ran at the flames. Maybe for just one crazy moment she thought she stood a chance at taking down that Warrior chump, Trove.
Now she was simply humiliated.
Vanessa looked up and down the ward. Quite a few people were dead from the battle of course, but they were used to that. Trove certainly didn’t send the Warriors out not to kill. Often, Baudelaire gave the command to simply… ‘dis-arm’. Trove clearly didn’t have such wussy ideals- and heck, it made everything all the more interesting.
The fact was, thought the Forces’ numbers were, for now, depleted, with every passing month their ranks swelled once more. There was an endless supply of volunteers from countries across the globe- poor saps with nowhere else to go.
Like Vanessa and Francesca, many left school at 16. Some came with the blessing of their families. Others did not. Many left again, some old, some young- perhaps to raise a family, settle down, get a job, make a life. Perhaps after years of war they grew disillusioned. There was never an end in sight. Perhaps they were simply sick of fighting school kids- there were other wars- and other places to fight this war. Vanessa’s camp was a young camp- funny, the newest recruits always wound up here, on the front line.
Vanessa knew the Orchid War raged across the globe, that there were other fights to fight and one day, inevitably, she’d be shipped off to Goblin County, or the North Atlantic HQ, yet here… here was where she wanted to remain. At the very beating heart of the war; in No Man’s Land, Great Britain, mere miles from Orchid’s great gates.
It was just another reason she wanted to be an Elite. The Elites never left the front line.
The Elites would be there the day Major Hoodham fell.
For Vanessa had no doubt that he would fall. He would fall at the hands of his brother’s army; every Head and Deputy Head would fall, too. Trove had been trashed in battle, Baudelaire was at their mercy, and Norris…
Vanessa had good reason to believe Kira Norris was dead.
Back in camp, Vanessa had a sword stained by the Head Spy’s blood. A quick DNA test would confirm the match, and Vanessa would be raised above all others… she would fly up through the ranks… perhaps even be allowed back into the Preliminaries- or maybe Hoodham would simply recognise her greatness and just bump her up to an Elite.
Vanessa’s eyes saw medals. She saw honours. She saw the respect she had always deserved. She saw Francesca, green with envy. She saw her younger sisters, standing in awe. She saw Gritty- that loveable oaf- boasting of how he’d been there- witnessed the whole thing. She saw her comrades, cheering. She saw the Elites, begging her to join them. She saw Hoodham, his Head bowing in respect.
And she saw Evie… smiling.
Kira Norris- dead.
This was going down in the history books.
But before Vanessa had had a chance to make her ever so, ever so grand announcement, she’d been interrupted, dragged from the celebrations and forced to stare failure in the form of her sister in its face.
“Nessie? Nessie? Vanessa?”
She blinked. “What?”
Francesca rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?”
“No,” Vanessa grinned, “oops.”
Francesca, when annoyed, ground her teeth. It made the most curious of sawing noises. “I was trying to help you Vanessa. Give you some… ah. Advice.”
“You?” Vanessa’s eyebrows shot up. “Advising me?” Now she was sorry she hadn’t been listening. Whatever comment Francesca had to make on Vanessa’s life had to be interesting.
“Yes,” Francesca cleared her throat, and with an auspicious glance down the ward at some sleeping patients, she leaned forward and said softly, ever so, ever so softly, “Stay away from Evangeline Clare.”
Even between siblings as distant as Vanessa and Francesca, there were certain rules- childhood codes not to be broken. Yet over the years, both sisters had broken them; and each broken rule pushed them that little bit further apart. It happened when Vanessa made out with Francesca’s boyfriend; when Francesca ratted Vanessa’s tattoo out to their parents; when Vanessa cut off every one of Francesca’s Barbie dolls’ heads; when Francesca betrayed Vanessa by falling in love with their putrid baby sisters all those years ago…
And yet…
Vanessa had never expected Francesca to overstep this line.
Not this one. Not about her Evie.
“Vanessa, don’t get mad-” Francesca began, but it was too late.
“Don’t you f**king dare tell me what to do, Francesca!” Vanessa spat, leaping to her feet. “Evangeline Clare is none of your business- none-”
“Nor,” Francesca hissed back, a sudden venom in her eye, “is she any of yours’, Nessie. This is Evangeline Clare-”
“I’m perfectly aware of who she is, thanks.”
“I don’t think you are.” Francesca’s neck seemed to elongate now as she leaned forward, popping grotesquely out of her skimpy nightdress. As Vanessa’s voice rose, Francesca’s lowered in a vain attempt to keep every ear in the Medical Unit from turning towards them. “I don’t think you have any idea who you’re fooling with, and what the consequences-”
“Consequences?!” Vanessa threw back her head, and she laughed. “Oh, Frankie, I don’t think you’re the best person to be lecturing me about consequences right now.” A sly finger curled once more around a lock of Vanessa’s shining dark hair.
“Please,” Francesca had now resorted to hissing through her teeth. “Nessie. There are rumours-”
“Only rumours!”
“- and pretty soon they’ll spread. You can’t keep stuff like that from the top ranks. And when- when Hoodham finds out that-”
“Can and will,” Vanessa said airily. “Who’d dare report it to him?”
“Rumours stick like glue,” Francesca’s whole frame was shaking with the effort of staying calm. “And those rumours could… they could cost you your place in Hoodham’s army- our place- our reputation-”
“Our reputation?!” Vanessa’s fist balled, loosing her stands of hair and flying to her side. “Or your reputation? So much for sisterly advice- you’re just trying to cover your own arse-”
“And yours with it!” It was too much. Francesca exploded; her eyes bulging wildly from her strange bald head. “Dammit, Nessie, maybe you’re right- maybe we could get away with it if they were just rumours… but they’re not, are they?”
Vanessa froze. For three heartbeats, the entire Medical Unit was silent; the beeping machines and laughter floating in from the camp outside the only noises; ones so faint they faded into the background.
It was too late to laugh, but Vanessa tried to anyway.
“Rumours are rumours, Frankie,” she chuckled, “people like to talk. That’s all.”
“I know you, Nessie,” Francesca’s voice was low once more; oddly hollow. “You like the risk. You like the danger. She’s pretty, too- always a bonus.”
Vanessa, perhaps from the shock of how blunt her sister was being, took a sharp intake of breath. Her voice now lowered too, to a mere hush.
“Francesca… how shallow do you think I am?”
“Nessie, sweetie,” it was Francesca’s turn to laugh, the glow of triumph alighting her naked features, “I know you are.”
Vanessa didn’t bother sticking around any longer. She left in a temper- not Vanessa’s most elegant state, as it involved the stamping of feet and the swearing both under her breath and aloud. She cursed her sister- swore on her life she was wrong; dead wrong; that rumours were rumours and that any chump could see that.
But her heart was pounding.
Francesca just laughed. Vanessa could still hear the d**n noise, long after it stopped, swirling round and round and banging off the sides of her skill.
“‘Bout time I heard you laughing.”
She wished she never had to hear it again. It was an ugly noise; a putrid, toxic waste of air.
She’d show her.
She’d show them all.
Her temper led to impulse. Rationalisation wasn’t Vanessa’s forté. There was an official way; a quiet way to do this. But there was also her way- and it was a better way to boot. If she was gonna get that glory, it was all gonna be her way- from start to finish.
Originally, she’d planned to go to Hoodham.
Instead, the blood-crusted sword swinging at her side, she marched straight through the camp, back to the celebration party. People were still going crazy. Gritty was manically swatting the attention of a couple of tipsy blonde girls. He was up like a shot at the sight of her, but the relief froze on his face when he saw Vanessa’s expression and recognised the sword at her side.
“Nessa? Nessa!”
She ignored him.
Vanessa headed straight for a stack of crates to the side of the room. Once up, she raised a hand and shot a bolt of lightning across the ceiling.
The room juttered to a halt.
Adrenaline is a funny thing; an excitement of sorts, laced with sickness. Her whole frame shook with it as she raised the sword into the air.
“This,” she called out, her voice bold and clear, “is Kira Norris’ blood.” Total silence greeted her words. She grinned, letting the impact of her news sink in. “Kira Norris… is dead.”
Ready. Okay. Right. Sure.
She must have been f**ked up pretty bad out there, anyway. No way in hell was her sister ever ready to see her. Every time they came within eyeshot of each other, the premature lines around her sister’s lips tightened and her eyes always widened, like a little electric shock had just spat itself down her throat. Vanessa always sort of assumed it was because her sister frequently forget her existence on purpose, and was therefore frequently surprised to realise that yes, Vanessa did exist, and yes, they really did hate each other that much.
So, you have to understand, when Vanessa was given such grim news as that her sister was actually ready and willing to see her, Vanessa was forced to prepare herself for the worst.
This battle had rocked.
Orchid Hill- for the first time in far too long- was feeling the burn.
Literally! Vanessa had watched with glee as the golden flames had danced their way down the blackened silhouette of Blueberg Forest. Gritty had told her their Warrior Deputy Head had started it. Now, that was what you called, ‘desperate’. And it was no d**n surprise. They’d been ordered to kill, and the Forces had taken up that particular command with gusto. You didn’t have to be one of those precious Elites to fire a gun. Magic they may be- but a bullet sure as hell got the job done, too.
Vanessa had killed tonight. Felt odd, that. It always did. Nothing really did prepare you. Vanessa remembered her first battle so clearly. They could give you all the pep talks they liked, but watching the light leave someone’s eyes… watching their body crumple beneath your blade…
They said it would be scary.
But they never said it would be so enthralling.
Bloodlust was a funny thing- like an oxymoron was pounding through your system. You knew it was wrong but it felt so right. The sight of a corpse you’d created was sickening- but the burst of adrenaline it gave you was absolute. Every instinct in your body screamed at you to drop your weapons and run way from that blazing battlefield.
But instinct is what drives you forward.
Gritty thought Vanessa too poetical about the whole thing.
“An oxy- what?”
“An oxymoron, you moron.”
Gritty had little appreciation for substance or meaning. “Nessa. It’s a battle. Go in, kick butt, run like hell. Got it?”
Must be peaceful having just the one brain cell.
Gritty was Vanessa’s best friend. She liked him because he was the epitome of manliness- i.e. he was vulgar and stupid- but he was also a closeted homosexual. A bit of a walking paradox in himself. He liked her ‘cause she was openly bisexual, and made him feel more at ease about all the sordid little wet dreams he had about various high-ranking commanders.
Enough said.
Actually, Gritty’s most recent crush just so happened to be on the medic who’d come to give Vanessa her most unfortunate news about her sister.
What’d happened?
Vanessa had been pulled out of a perfectly good victory (well, near enough) party to go and visit her sister at the medical unit, that’s what. According to Gritty’s medical man, Francesca had been caught in the flames sent through Blueberg Forest and damaged horribly. They’d been working on her burns for a while now, but they were pretty bad. He reckoned even Orchid Hill’s famous Head Carer would be challenged by her injuries. Still, they’d patched her up as best they could, and further Healing work would commence in the morning. Apparently, Francesca was lucky to be alive.
Vanessa knew Francesca sure as hell wouldn’t see it that way.
However, upon Vanessa’s entry into the medical unit, there was a reassuring moan form the end of the ward where her sister lay.
“Not you, please God, not you.”
“Francesca,” Vanessa’s teeth were bared in a painful grin as she approached. “You look…”
Like hell.
“Like hell,” Francesca’s head rolled back. “I know.”
The burns were minimal, so the medics had certainly done their work there. Only the unnatural raw redness to Francesca’s skin gave any indication as to how bad the burns had been.
That and the bald head and missing eyebrows.
If there was any reason any woman in Vanessa’s family had to feel good about themselves, it was this: they all had fantastic hair. The kinda hair most women would kill for. Their mother, Agnes, said it was due to their Spanish heritage, though not one of their veins had seen a drop of Spanish blood since the late 1600s. Each of Vanessa’s four sisters and herself had luxuriously thick, curling dark hair that fell in perfect waves to frame their faces.
Every one of Francesca’s chocolate curls had been burned to a crisp.
Hah! This was better than a party.
“Jesus, Francesca,” Vanessa’s grin could’ve split her face in two, “I guess this is why Mum and Dad always told us never to play with matches.”
“Haha, Nessie.”
Vanessa’s grin sloped into a scowl. “Frankie.”
“Oh, real mature.”
“You started it,” Vanessa tugged a lock of her own long hair forward, her fingers fanning through it. Francesca’s deep blue eyes watched the movement, her pupils contracting.
Both knew Francesca was jealous.
Honestly, Francesca had always been jealous. Francesca was smarter, but Vanessa was prettier, so she always got the attention her sister desired so. Of course, when the triplets were born, the two enemies united to deal with their common threat.
First, they tried to smother Elsie.
Next, they tried to drown Emily.
Finally, they tried to make Enid ‘fall’ out of her cot.
Then the triplet babies had made Francesca popular with all the other little 7 year old girls and Operation Bye Bye Baby Brats was a no-go, and a 3 year old Vanessa was left angry and resentful.
And she’d never forgiven her.
Francesca knew this. The beauty of it was, she didn’t care. She had nothing to gain by Vanessa’s favour. Despite being vaguely striking to look at, Vanessa was pretty unpopular with Francesca’s friends. In an army, there shouldn’t be such bitter divisions as cliques.
But there were.
The Elites were off on their own little cloud in the sky. Orla Ryder used to be okay before she got done in, and after that, the distance had grown. Most were too big-headed to bother bridging the gap between their lofty position in Hoodham’s lap and the barracks were the rest of the lower-ranking schmucks and herself ran around waving swords.
So that was… sort of a clique.
Then you had people like… well, Vanessa, really, though she would never be caught dead hanging around with the rest of them. They were the Wannabes. The ones so desperately trying to climb the hem of Hoodham’s trousers into his oh-so-comfy lap. This group made no secret of their ambitions and considered themselves ‘above’ every other member of the Forces. The funny thing was, they thought they were the only ones who yearned to join the ranks of people like the Elites. The surprise on their faces when hundreds of others turned up at the Preliminaries was almost comical.
Some people just couldn’t deal with a little competition.
Like Orchid- Vanessa was one of a handful willing to compare Orchid Hill and the Forces- they had their Carers in the form of their medics. Vanessa liked to think of them as one big happy family of Healers.
Then you’d all the divisions. All the different ranks. Sure boundaries were blurred. Vanessa had friends in every rank- every division- though these people were not Francesca’s idea of… ‘ideal’. But still, there was always, always that vague sense of… separation.
Only on the battlefield could those boundaries completely disintegrate. Vanessa could've fought alongside the likes of the late Orla Ryder herself and neither would’ve batted an eye. In the glory of battle- or perhaps simply the sheer savageness of it- the weakest member of the lowliest rank was equal to Hoodham himself. Francesca’s lot lived within Vanessa’s own division, and they was a petty bunch, at best, made up female cadets, the majority of whom were in love with at least one of the Blades boys.
Jesus. What was it about those Blades?
The best way to describe Francesca’s ‘friends’ would be… that they were like a pack of wolves. A volatile one. Together, they were a force to be reckoned with. But should the slightest thing go wrong, the whole pack split and turned, snarling and snapping, in on itself.
Francesca’s lot didn’t like Vanessa. Not because she was bisexual- please, people these days were way past homophobia- and Vanessa was pretty, so at least she was tolerable in that respect. Nah, the thing that made them all dislike Vanessa so was that one of her favourite little pastimes was to prod and poke at various pack members, and make them go… a little nuts.
All it took was a simple-
“Guess who Sammy told me he slept with last night?”
Or a-
“You’ll never believe what Veronica called you the other day!”
Or even a-
“Hell, no wonder Yasmina thinks you belong in Orchid Hill.”
Alright. Alright. So Vanessa didn’t really have to repeat that stuff. She never lied- she was no liar- everything she told them was the truth. She guessed she repeated it because… well… she did it for fun. And she did it for revenge.
For the things they said about Gritty, her other friends and Evie-
Well. Vanessa gave as good as she got.
“Nessie, why are you here?”
God. Vanessa hated that name. “To check up on you, I guess.”
Francesca’s eyebrows- had she any left- would here have raised in disbelief.
“Uh huh.”
Vanessa shrugged. “The medic over there figured you might want some… ah… family support.”
There was a pause, then suddenly the sisters erupted into giggles. Every other patient in the unit jumped horribly at the unnatural sound of laughter, and turned their heads sullenly towards the chuckling pair. One affronted medic made an angry shushing noise in their direction.
Francesca promptly stopped.
Vanessa didn’t.
“Nessie-”
Keep laughing.
“Nessie-”
Keep laughing.
“Vanessa!”
Stop laughing.
“‘Bout time I heard you laughing.”
Francesca smiled weakly in response. “I don’t do giggling.”
“Your friends do,” Vanessa pointed out.
“Well,” Francesca shifted, “they’re all a little… younger than me.”
Age was a sensitive issue for Francesca. She was young enough- recently turned 22- but in this army, age meant everything. Vanessa was 17- she had time- but Francesca was getting on in years to be in the same division she was in when she was 16.
How depressing.
In all honesty, Francesca would rather be dead. Perhaps that’s why she did all sorts of stupid, crazy stuff in battle. She was an attention-seeker, deluded in that she thought if she died in battle she would become some sort of martyr. Maybe that’s why she ran at the flames. Maybe for just one crazy moment she thought she stood a chance at taking down that Warrior chump, Trove.
Now she was simply humiliated.
Vanessa looked up and down the ward. Quite a few people were dead from the battle of course, but they were used to that. Trove certainly didn’t send the Warriors out not to kill. Often, Baudelaire gave the command to simply… ‘dis-arm’. Trove clearly didn’t have such wussy ideals- and heck, it made everything all the more interesting.
The fact was, thought the Forces’ numbers were, for now, depleted, with every passing month their ranks swelled once more. There was an endless supply of volunteers from countries across the globe- poor saps with nowhere else to go.
Like Vanessa and Francesca, many left school at 16. Some came with the blessing of their families. Others did not. Many left again, some old, some young- perhaps to raise a family, settle down, get a job, make a life. Perhaps after years of war they grew disillusioned. There was never an end in sight. Perhaps they were simply sick of fighting school kids- there were other wars- and other places to fight this war. Vanessa’s camp was a young camp- funny, the newest recruits always wound up here, on the front line.
Vanessa knew the Orchid War raged across the globe, that there were other fights to fight and one day, inevitably, she’d be shipped off to Goblin County, or the North Atlantic HQ, yet here… here was where she wanted to remain. At the very beating heart of the war; in No Man’s Land, Great Britain, mere miles from Orchid’s great gates.
It was just another reason she wanted to be an Elite. The Elites never left the front line.
The Elites would be there the day Major Hoodham fell.
For Vanessa had no doubt that he would fall. He would fall at the hands of his brother’s army; every Head and Deputy Head would fall, too. Trove had been trashed in battle, Baudelaire was at their mercy, and Norris…
Vanessa had good reason to believe Kira Norris was dead.
Back in camp, Vanessa had a sword stained by the Head Spy’s blood. A quick DNA test would confirm the match, and Vanessa would be raised above all others… she would fly up through the ranks… perhaps even be allowed back into the Preliminaries- or maybe Hoodham would simply recognise her greatness and just bump her up to an Elite.
Vanessa’s eyes saw medals. She saw honours. She saw the respect she had always deserved. She saw Francesca, green with envy. She saw her younger sisters, standing in awe. She saw Gritty- that loveable oaf- boasting of how he’d been there- witnessed the whole thing. She saw her comrades, cheering. She saw the Elites, begging her to join them. She saw Hoodham, his Head bowing in respect.
And she saw Evie… smiling.
Kira Norris- dead.
This was going down in the history books.
But before Vanessa had had a chance to make her ever so, ever so grand announcement, she’d been interrupted, dragged from the celebrations and forced to stare failure in the form of her sister in its face.
“Nessie? Nessie? Vanessa?”
She blinked. “What?”
Francesca rolled her eyes towards the ceiling. “You haven’t been listening to a word I’ve been saying, have you?”
“No,” Vanessa grinned, “oops.”
Francesca, when annoyed, ground her teeth. It made the most curious of sawing noises. “I was trying to help you Vanessa. Give you some… ah. Advice.”
“You?” Vanessa’s eyebrows shot up. “Advising me?” Now she was sorry she hadn’t been listening. Whatever comment Francesca had to make on Vanessa’s life had to be interesting.
“Yes,” Francesca cleared her throat, and with an auspicious glance down the ward at some sleeping patients, she leaned forward and said softly, ever so, ever so softly, “Stay away from Evangeline Clare.”
Even between siblings as distant as Vanessa and Francesca, there were certain rules- childhood codes not to be broken. Yet over the years, both sisters had broken them; and each broken rule pushed them that little bit further apart. It happened when Vanessa made out with Francesca’s boyfriend; when Francesca ratted Vanessa’s tattoo out to their parents; when Vanessa cut off every one of Francesca’s Barbie dolls’ heads; when Francesca betrayed Vanessa by falling in love with their putrid baby sisters all those years ago…
And yet…
Vanessa had never expected Francesca to overstep this line.
Not this one. Not about her Evie.
“Vanessa, don’t get mad-” Francesca began, but it was too late.
“Don’t you f**king dare tell me what to do, Francesca!” Vanessa spat, leaping to her feet. “Evangeline Clare is none of your business- none-”
“Nor,” Francesca hissed back, a sudden venom in her eye, “is she any of yours’, Nessie. This is Evangeline Clare-”
“I’m perfectly aware of who she is, thanks.”
“I don’t think you are.” Francesca’s neck seemed to elongate now as she leaned forward, popping grotesquely out of her skimpy nightdress. As Vanessa’s voice rose, Francesca’s lowered in a vain attempt to keep every ear in the Medical Unit from turning towards them. “I don’t think you have any idea who you’re fooling with, and what the consequences-”
“Consequences?!” Vanessa threw back her head, and she laughed. “Oh, Frankie, I don’t think you’re the best person to be lecturing me about consequences right now.” A sly finger curled once more around a lock of Vanessa’s shining dark hair.
“Please,” Francesca had now resorted to hissing through her teeth. “Nessie. There are rumours-”
“Only rumours!”
“- and pretty soon they’ll spread. You can’t keep stuff like that from the top ranks. And when- when Hoodham finds out that-”
“Can and will,” Vanessa said airily. “Who’d dare report it to him?”
“Rumours stick like glue,” Francesca’s whole frame was shaking with the effort of staying calm. “And those rumours could… they could cost you your place in Hoodham’s army- our place- our reputation-”
“Our reputation?!” Vanessa’s fist balled, loosing her stands of hair and flying to her side. “Or your reputation? So much for sisterly advice- you’re just trying to cover your own arse-”
“And yours with it!” It was too much. Francesca exploded; her eyes bulging wildly from her strange bald head. “Dammit, Nessie, maybe you’re right- maybe we could get away with it if they were just rumours… but they’re not, are they?”
Vanessa froze. For three heartbeats, the entire Medical Unit was silent; the beeping machines and laughter floating in from the camp outside the only noises; ones so faint they faded into the background.
It was too late to laugh, but Vanessa tried to anyway.
“Rumours are rumours, Frankie,” she chuckled, “people like to talk. That’s all.”
“I know you, Nessie,” Francesca’s voice was low once more; oddly hollow. “You like the risk. You like the danger. She’s pretty, too- always a bonus.”
Vanessa, perhaps from the shock of how blunt her sister was being, took a sharp intake of breath. Her voice now lowered too, to a mere hush.
“Francesca… how shallow do you think I am?”
“Nessie, sweetie,” it was Francesca’s turn to laugh, the glow of triumph alighting her naked features, “I know you are.”
Vanessa didn’t bother sticking around any longer. She left in a temper- not Vanessa’s most elegant state, as it involved the stamping of feet and the swearing both under her breath and aloud. She cursed her sister- swore on her life she was wrong; dead wrong; that rumours were rumours and that any chump could see that.
But her heart was pounding.
Francesca just laughed. Vanessa could still hear the d**n noise, long after it stopped, swirling round and round and banging off the sides of her skill.
“‘Bout time I heard you laughing.”
She wished she never had to hear it again. It was an ugly noise; a putrid, toxic waste of air.
She’d show her.
She’d show them all.
Her temper led to impulse. Rationalisation wasn’t Vanessa’s forté. There was an official way; a quiet way to do this. But there was also her way- and it was a better way to boot. If she was gonna get that glory, it was all gonna be her way- from start to finish.
Originally, she’d planned to go to Hoodham.
Instead, the blood-crusted sword swinging at her side, she marched straight through the camp, back to the celebration party. People were still going crazy. Gritty was manically swatting the attention of a couple of tipsy blonde girls. He was up like a shot at the sight of her, but the relief froze on his face when he saw Vanessa’s expression and recognised the sword at her side.
“Nessa? Nessa!”
She ignored him.
Vanessa headed straight for a stack of crates to the side of the room. Once up, she raised a hand and shot a bolt of lightning across the ceiling.
The room juttered to a halt.
Adrenaline is a funny thing; an excitement of sorts, laced with sickness. Her whole frame shook with it as she raised the sword into the air.
“This,” she called out, her voice bold and clear, “is Kira Norris’ blood.” Total silence greeted her words. She grinned, letting the impact of her news sink in. “Kira Norris… is dead.”
