Chapter Thirty-Six
Millie
J ackson and I walk out of the concrete stairwell into the corpse-grey car park. Harsh overhead lights cut through the space, slicing shadows from concrete pillars. Jackson is twisting his head this way and that as he searches.
“What kind of car are we looking for?”
“You'll know it when you see it.”
Our feet slap loudly against the ground, echoing through the cavernous room. We pass shiny BMWs and pitch-black Audi's, but Jackson barely glances at them.
“Why do we even need his car, anyway? What's wrong with yours?”
“Won't be much use where we're going.”
Groaning, I follow him deeper into the car park. Jackson stops suddenly, and I grunt as I walk into the hard muscle of his back. I hear a double beep and a flash of light, drawing my attention to a single parking bay deep in the back. My mouth drops, and I burst out laughing when I see it. Jackson turns and grins at me, his arm still outstretched, car keys in hand.
“You can't be serious?”
He chuckles.
“The Horsemen aren't big on subtlety. You think this is bad? You should see Pestilence's plane …”
Jackson's car is ridiculous—an enormous black American beast of a car that's wider, bulkier, and more powerful than any car I'd ever seen before. Next to this thing, it looks like he rides a tricycle.
A fearsome red, a knife wound red. The car is wider than the road but sleek and curving. A large silver horse proudly rears on the bonnet of the car, tiny ruby eyes glint in the faint light. Inside, the leather seats are the colour of dried blood.
“Is that …?” I stare at the rearing form of the silver horse and shiver.
“He got it a while ago, prefers his horsepower in the engine now.”
I giggle, and he looks over at me, his lips curling into that familiar smirk, and for a moment, I forget everything that's happened in the last day. I linger on his face—the gunmetal glimmer of his eyes, the fullness of his lips, the black-as-night strands he slicks back. My heart quivers, flutters like leaves on a branch. I look away.
“We should go,” I mutter.
His smile fades, and I quickly slip into the front passenger seat. The inside of the car is spacious and comfortable. From the mirror dangles a scented piece of cardboard shaped like War's sword—it smells like a pumpkin-spiced latte.
Mystical, Ethereal, divine creatures … damn, they're weird.
Jackson climbs into the driver's seat, slamming the door hard. His face is back to that fixed, stony expression. He starts the engine, and before I can open my mouth to ask where we're going, he hits the accelerator, the car rumbling to life. We speed through the car park, turning the cars and pillars into blurs. I gasp, sinking deep into the seat. When we leave the underground, the radio crackles to life. A cheesy rock song about driving to hell fills the car, and I roll my eyes. Jackson catches me and grins.
“That's not where we're going, is it?”
“Hope not.”
“You're all crazy, you know that, right?”
He chuckles, leaning back lazily in his chair like he's not driving at race car speeds.
“Yeah, never-ending life does that to you.”
The car storms through the streets of London, Jackson uncaring at the beeps from pissed-off taxi drivers as he jumps lights and takes corners like a madman.
“Hardly seems fair,” I mutter.
“What does?”
“That those with so much life choose for those with so little.”
Jackson turns to me. His lips part like he wants to argue, but finally, he says nothing. He turns back to the road and then swerves, taking a sharp turn as the Tower of London appears, as if someone has just dropped an ancient castle in the heart of a metropolis. The skyscrapers that surround it seem just as if they are in awe; their glittering mass becomes something less in its presence.
In front of us, slowly appearing as we make our way through the traffic, is Tower Bridge. Its towers stand on either side of the river like looming guardians. Jackson speeds towards them, slipping through the spaces between cars like a hot knife through butter. We turn and drive onto the bridge, the towers rising above us. “Get ready.”
I frown, turning to him, but his eyes are fixed ahead.
“Ready for what?”
As we reach the centre of the bridge, Jackson slams on the brakes, which squeals in protest. People hit their horns and yell as they swerve to avoid us. The smell of burnt rubber and exhaust fumes curdles in my mouth.
“What the hell are you doing?” I yell, my heart leaping into my throat.
“Do you like the old James Bond movies?”
“What?!”
Jackson reverses sharply. Cars lurch to a stop to avoid us, and the traffic on the bridge comes to a grinding halt in a flurry of screeching brakes and honking horns. Tourists who'd been snapping photos of the river turn to stare at us in horror. The car meets the barrier of the bridge and stops with a bump. Straight ahead, across the empty lanes of traffic, is the river—silvery light staining the dark and gloomy water.
“Jackson? Jackson, what the hell are you …”
He hits the accelerator, and the car jerks forward. I shriek, clutching at my seat, the door, anything my fingers can grip. Squeezing my eyes tightly shut, my stomach leaps out of my body. I smell the burning of tires, the screech as we speed across the lanes, smashing into the barriers on the other side. They crumple like foil, and for a moment, the car dangles off the edge—the river below us.
My seatbelt snaps painfully across my chest as I'm launched forward. My throat's on fire from screaming, and my hands are in front of my face, waiting for a blow that never comes. There's a crunch, one final lurch, and then suddenly, we're falling—falling straight into the river. We're flying—this tank of a car, me, Jackson. We're weightless.
The car smashes into a river, and we go under. I expect to feel the weight of water immediately, but just a few trickles come in through the windows. I scramble with the door handle, but it's locked.
“What did you do? What did you do?!” I scream at Jackson, but he's not listening. One of his hands is on the wheel whilst he changes gears with the other. “What are you doing?”
Suddenly, the car purrs back to life, pulling us out of the depths of the Thames until we're on its glassy surface. The buildings and boats on either side of us come back into view as the water streams off the windows.
Momentarily, the car just rests there. Jackson brushes a few droplets of water off his cheeks before hitting the pedal. The car soars forward, water splashing against us as we cut through the river. We are driving on the water. We are actually driving on the water! I turn to Jackson, my mouth hanging open. He says nothing but can't hide the quiet smirk on his face.
“What just happened?!” My voice is so high I'm sure it's going to shatter the windows.
“I told you we couldn't get there in my car.”
“I think I'm gonna be sick.” I clutch my stomach. “How is this possible?”
“The Horsemen bring about the apocalypse. You don't think a little water would get in their way, do you?”
He chuckles, slips on sunglasses from his pocket, and leans back casually in his chair. I roll my eyes in disgust and punch him in the arm. Hard.
“Oww! What was that for?” He sits up sharply, rubbing his arm.
“You could have warned me!”
“Nah, that was way more fun.”
“It's the end of the world, and you're thinking about fun?”
“If you can't have fun then, when can you?”
I turn away, moving between being furious and laughing harder than I ever have in my life.
“You're ridiculous, and I hate you.”
“No, you don't.” His voice drops, sounding serious. “Would be easier if you did, though, wouldn't it?”
He sounds fragile as if he's waiting for me to hurt him. Waiting for me to break his heart.
“I can't hate you, Jackson, even if I'd like to.” The words surprise me, both in their intensity and their truth. His eyes linger on me long after I've spoken, burning into my flesh. My eyes dip down to my hands.
“Where are we going?”
“Easier to explain when we get there. Won't be long now. Get some rest, and I'll let you know when we're close.”
“And miss riding in a magical car? Not a chance. And more importantly … when do I get to drive?”
He laughs and I settle back into the seat, opening the window and watching as we leave the city of London behind, passing boats, landmarks and skyscrapers as we make our way out into the ocean.
It's like something from a dream, from a film. The dense fog is shattered by shards of lightning flashing from deep within, and then slowly, almost like a trick of the light, the island appears. At first, it's just a faint outline of shapes, but slowly, they solidify until I can see there are buildings, giant trees reaching up to the sky and waves frothing against towering cliffs.
“Does Kong know how to bring Death back?” I turn to Jackson, who's staring blankly ahead like he's not affected by this at all.
“Funny.”
As we get closer, leaving the fog behind us, I can make out the layout of the island. Most of it is covered in dense vegetation. There's a mountain at its heart with a structure at the top—golden and crumbling, like ruins out of a Greek myth.
“I don't understand it exactly, but this is the birthplace of everything. Or at least where it's all ended up. Think of it as a storage locker for the beginning of civilisation. You see that green bit over there?” He points to a section of lush trees, more vibrant than the rest, surrounded by a great white wall. “That's the Garden.”
I frown, my mind taking a moment to catch up. The faint motion of the car skimming across the water wakes me from my stupor.
“Are you talking about Eden?”
“Yup, look real close, and you can see the tree of knowledge in the centre.”
I sink deeper into the soft leather, my head spinning. Yesterday, the world was one thing; today, it's something else. I'm Alice, and I have fallen down one hell of a rabbit hole. And something tells me I have a lot more falling to do yet. “You OK?” Jackson looks at me, his eyes narrow with concern. “You’re kind of … vibrating?”
“You're surprised I'm having a few issues dealing with the sheer array of crazy that's been dropped in my lap the last few hours? I mean, how should I be reacting?”
He turns the car, avoiding a large wave, and directs it towards the left side of the island.
“I know it's a lot; honestly, nobody should learn about all this in one go. I had training for months, and even then, it took years for me to get over it. But I need to keep you with me. I need to keep you safe.”
“I'm not your responsibility. I don't need you or anyone else keeping me safe,” I snarl.
He turns to me, his face intense.
“Maybe not, but whoever started this knew what I'd do to keep you alive. Maybe you don't need me to protect you, but I need to keep you safe for everyone else's sake.”
My lips part, but there's nothing I can say to that. So I simply fold my arms across my chest and wait for our car to hit the shore.
It's a strange thing, a car travelling over water. I hadn't been on many boats, but it didn't feel like that. Whatever powered War's car had no problems with the fierce waves that tried to push us back deeper into the ocean. Jackson glides the vehicle through the water with ease, feeling only the gentlest bump when we hit the rocky shore. The ocean spray passes through the open window, leaving salt on my skin and the scent in my hair. As the car comes to a halt, Jackson turns to smile cautiously at me.
“Let's go.”
I nod and climb out of the car. The heat is like walking into a wall. It's almost too dense to breathe. The air itself feels wet. I take off my jacket, still wearing the dress from my birthday the night before. I may be overdressed for stomping through a tropical island, but at least I won't bake in this heat. The wet stones crunch under my feet. I wished I'd worn boots, though. My trainers won't last long on terrain like this.
Jackson is standing by the front of the car, patting it gently and mumbling something like he's talking to the silver horse. I hear a noise that sounds unmistakably like a neigh.
“Please tell me that thing's not alive?”
He looks up at me and says nothing, his lips twitching into that irresistible grin. He mutters something else, and the car once again roars to life. The lights glow so brightly that I put up a hand to stop them from blinding me. It reverses smoothly. Jackson slaps the boot before it drives down the shore, cutting through the waves and heading right towards the wall of fog.
Jackson turns to me and chuckles.
“Everything you've learned today, and that's what knocks you quiet?”
He shakes his head playfully, his eyes full of warmth, and starts walking toward the wall that surrounds the Garden. I chase after him, my mind still on the car.
“Was that thing a horse? Was that War's horse? But as a car? Jackson? Jackson!”
Jackson’s laugh echoes through the deserted land, launching birds into the sky over our heads.