Anthony Horowitz - Raven_s Gate

“What?”

“His name was Mallory. He said he was going to help me. He argued with Mrs Deverill. And the next thing I knew, he was dead too. He was killed on the motorway.”

There was a brief silence. Then Richard spoke again.

“They’re not witches, Matt,” he said. “They may think they’re witches. They may act like witches. They might have made you believe they’re witches. But whatever’s going on at Lesser Malling, it’s real. It’s something to do with the power station. And that’s science, not magic.”

“What about the dogs?”

“Genetically modified. Mutants. I don’t know. Maybe they’d been exposed to some sort of radiation.”

“So you don’t believe in magic?”

“I enjoy Harry Potter, like everyone else. But do I believe in it? No.”

Matt stood up. “I’m tired,” he said. “I want to go to bed.”

Richard nodded. “You can have the spare room upstairs.”

The spare room was built into the roof of the house. It was filled with junk. Richard used it as a dumping ground for anything he no longer needed. Matt was lying on a sofa bed, tucked under a duvet and feeling warm and drowsy. He was gazing up at the ceiling that slanted over his head, when there was a knock at the door and Richard came in.

“I just wanted to check you were all right,” he said.

“I’m fine.” Matt turned on to his side to face him. “What are you going to do?” he asked. “How long can I stay here?”

“I don’t know. A couple of days, maybe.” Matt’s face fell. “I told you, Matt. You can’t stay with me. It’s just not right. I don’t even know you. But I do want to help you.” Richard sighed. “I must be crazy, because the last two people who tried to help seem to have ended up dead – and, personally, I had other plans. But at least we can take a look into Omega One. I mean, forget witches and all that stuff. The old power station seems to be at the heart of whatever it is that’s going on.”

“You said you knew the man who built it.”

“I’ll call him tomorrow. All right?”

Matt nodded.

“Goodnight then.” Richard turned to go.

“Wait!” Matt said. “There was something I didn’t tell you.”

Richard hovered once again in the doorway.

“You said you wanted to know who I am, so you might as well know all of it. My mum always used to say I was strange. All my life, I’ve been involved in a lot of strange things. Mrs Deverill and all the rest of it… I sometimes think it was meant to happen. I’m meant to be here. I don’t know why.

“The night before my mum and dad were killed, I had a bad dream. I often had dreams but this was something else. I saw the bridge. I saw the tyre burst. I even saw the water, flooding in through the windows, filling the car. It was like I was in the car with them and it was horrible. I couldn’t breathe.” He stopped. He had never told anyone this before. “And when I woke up the next morning, I knew they would never get to the wedding. I knew the accident was going to happen exactly the way it did…”

Matt hesitated. This was the difficult part.

“My dad was like you. He didn’t believe in stuff like witches and magic, and things he couldn’t understand. I suppose it was because he was a doctor. And I knew that if I told him about my dream, he’d just get angry. It had happened before… once or twice, when I was very young. Dad would say I was just being silly, letting my imagination run away with me. And maybe he was right. That’s what I told myself. It’s just a dream. It’s just a dream. Everything’s going to be all right. Don’t get into trouble with Dad…

“So I said nothing.

“But I was too scared to get in the car. I pretended I was ill. I threw a tantrum and made them leave me with Mrs Green, next door. I was only young. I didn’t know what was going on. I still don’t. But I know that I’m different. Sometimes I seem to be able to do things that are impossible. You won’t believe me, Richard. But I can break a jug just by looking at it. I can do it! I have done it! I know when something bad is going to happen before it does. When I was in the warehouse, I knew the guard was there. And tonight! Maybe I managed to call to you – when I was in the bog – without opening my mouth. I don’t know. It’s like I’ve got some sort of power but I can’t control it. It just flickers on and off by itself.”

Matt yawned. Suddenly he was exhausted. He’d had enough.

“I told Mrs Green,” he said. “I told her that my mum and dad weren’t going to come back from the wedding. I told her about the tyre. I even knew about the bridge and the river underneath. She got very angry with me. She didn’t want to hear all this stuff. And what was she meant to do? She couldn’t ring my parents and tell them not to go to the wedding. In the end, she told me to go out and play in the garden. She didn’t want to hear any more.

“I was still out in the garden when the police arrived. And I’ll never forget the look on her face. She was horrified. More than that. She was actually sick. And it wasn’t just because of what had happened to my parents. She was horrified and sick because of me.

“And the thing is, Richard, I didn’t believe in magic either. I didn’t believe in myself. And almost every hour of every day since then, I’ve asked myself why I didn’t try to warn my mum and dad. I could have saved their lives. But I said nothing. I just let them drive off by themselves. Every day I’ve woken up knowing that I’m to blame. It’s my fault they’re no longer here.”

Matt turned over and lay still.

Richard looked at the sleeping boy for a long time. Then he turned out the lights and crept quietly downstairs.

Matt woke up slowly and with a sense of reluctance. It had been the best sleep he’d had for weeks – and for once there had been no dreams.

It took him a few moments to get used to the unfamiliar surroundings and remember where he was. His eyes took in a slanting roof, a narrow window with the sun already shining brightly through, a box of old paperbacks and an alarm clock showing ten o’clock. Then he remembered the events of the previous night. The power station, the dogs, the chase through the wood. He had told Richard Cole everything, even the truth about the way his parents had died. For six years he had managed to live with the knowledge of what he’d done.

I could have warned them. I didn’t.

And finally he had unburdened himself to a journalist who probably hadn’t believed him anyway. He wished now that he hadn’t. He felt embarrassed. He remembered how Richard had dismissed his theories about witchcraft and magic. It wasn’t surprising. If it had been the other way round, he wouldn’t have believed it himself.

And yet…

He knew what had happened. He had lived through it. The dogs had come out of the flames. Tom Burgess had died trying to warn him.

And then there was the question of his own powers.

He had seen the car accident that had killed his parents before it happened. It was the reason he was still alive. And there had been other things too. The jug of water that had smashed in the detention centre. And the night before, the way he had somehow managed to get Richard to stop his car.

Suppose…

Matt lay back against the pillows.

…suppose he did have some sort of special ability. The police report he had found in Mrs Deverill’s bedroom had mentioned his precognitive abilities. By that they meant his ability to see the future. Somehow Mrs Deverill had got hold of a copy and that was why she wanted him. Not because of who he was. Because of what he was.

But that was ridiculous. Matt had seen X-Men and Spider-Man at the cinema. Superheroes. He even liked the comics. But was he really pretending that he had some sort of superpower too? He had never been bitten by a radioactive spider or zapped by a mad scientist inside a space machine. He was just an ordinary teenager who had got himself into trouble.