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II
In more ordinary times, I’d throw up my hands in surrender. But what’s happening here is nowhere near ordinary. I don’t care about the rifle, don’t care that with a precise shot my brother could put a calamity inside my head. Right now, I’m a supernova, glowing with positive energy. Inferior satellites – like Kyle – will be sucked into my mass.
I walk forwards smiling, arms outstretched. Perhaps, by embracing him, I can transfer some of my good vibes.
‘The fuck, Eli,’ he growls, stepping away from the wall.
‘I’ve come to see her,’ I say, turning up my palms the way Jesus does. ‘I’ve come to see Elissa.’
‘The fuck you have. Stay back.’
As the distance between us shrinks, some of my euphoria begins to evaporate. ‘Is she down there?’
Kyle studies the woods at my back. Then he nods.
‘Is she alive?’
‘I think.’
‘Did you hurt her?’
‘Fuckyou, Eli. I’m tellin’ you right now – get away from here and don’t come back. This one’s trouble. You ain’t got the nous to take her on.’
‘I don’t want to take her on,’ I say. ‘I just want to help.’
‘Like you helped Bryony?’
‘That wasn’t my fault.’
‘The fuck it wasn’t.’
I halt in front of him. ‘The swearing doesn’t scare me. Doesn’t bother me one bit.’
He spits something brown on to the ground. ‘That right?’
Looking him square in the eye, I say, ‘Let me through.’
In response, Kyle raises his rifle and sights along it. A handspan separates my face from the muzzle.
‘I’llendyou, little brother,’ he hisses, and I know he means it.
But I know, too, that it won’t happen today. Reaching out, I wrap my fingers around the gun. Then, careful not to disturb Kyle’s trigger finger, I guide the barrel to my mouth.
I don’t really know what I’m doing, but I sense it’s important. The metal tastes acidic, like I’m sucking the terminals of a nine-volt battery. With the weapon in my mouth, I can’t speak, but there’s nothing I need to say. This challenge to Kyle’s authority requires no words.
His eyesburn. He doesn’t recognize the little brother confronting him. Perhaps he fears an imposter. Right now, I feel about as different to the boy he knows as it’s possible to get. Annie’s magic has something to do with that, I’m sure, but mostly it’s down to Elissa.
Kyle’s trigger finger twitches inside the guard. If he fires at this angle, the bullet won’t enter my brain, but itwillrip a path through the soft tissue behind my tongue. Perhaps it’ll nick an artery in my neck or splinter a vital section of vertebrae. Perhaps it’ll sever my tongue at the root.
When the gun starts knocking against my teeth, I can’t decide which one of us is shaking. An instant later, my brother yanks the weapon from my mouth. ‘Fuckin’ retard,’ he says. ‘Fuckin’psycho.’
Again, I open my palms, in that age-old gesture of peace.
‘She ain’t like the others,’ he says.
‘I know that.’
‘You’re gunna cover us all in shit.’