London Belongs to the Alchemist (Class Heroes Book 4) Read online

  Copyright

  Class Heroes copyright © 2014 Stephen Henning

  ISBN: 978-1-908785-06-0

  The right of Stephen Henning to be identified as the Author of the Work has been asserted by him in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988. All rights reserved. Apart from any use permitted under UK copyright law, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form, or by any means with prior permission in writing from the publishers or in the case of reprographic production in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency and may not be otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser. All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Published by Elucidox Ltd www.elucidox.com

  The excellent cover art by Jamie Marsh.

  Chapter 1

  Friday 13 April

  James Blake arrived at the party in the school gym at seven o’clock. He had wanted to make a cool entrance but it was undermined by the fact that he and his twin sister, Samantha, both tried to walk through the door at the same time and became momentarily stuck.

  James was tense and nervous, and he felt a flash of irritation. But then Sam started giggling and it instantly lightened the mood.

  “We really should have rehearsed that,” said James, trying to laugh it off.

  They had already been humiliated in front of a small crowd of their classmates outside. Dad had insisted on driving them to the school and he had dropped them off right outside the gym.

  “I’ll be back here, at this exact spot, at ten thirty,” he had called out to them as they got out of the car. “Make sure you’re not late.”

  James and Sam had been made to promise that they would wait by the main door at that time, without fail.

  And then they were made to repeat the promise.

  That’s humiliating for any 14-year-old boy when his classmates are all in earshot, reflected James. But it was particularly galling when that boy possesses superpowers. Let’s face it, he thought, he was more likely to win the lottery than have anything bad happen to him.

  The only consolation was that James had managed to beat Sam to the front seat of the car, so at least he had got to look like the adult.

  Unfortunately, Mum and Dad were paranoid about keeping him and Sam safe. James had jokingly offered to buy a huge bundle of cotton wool that they could be wrapped up in.

  Now, standing inside the gym, James shivered. The cold, stark feeling that he always associated with this space wasn’t assuaged by the warm glow of the disco lights. Nor did the pungent smell of dry ice mask that ever-present twang of disinfectant, plastic footballs and rubber crash mats.

  The party, for all Year 10 at South Ealing Comprehensive School, was a far more modest affair than the proms that James had witnessed for the older kids. No massive ball gowns or dinner jackets here.

  James took a deep breath. His hands felt clammy.

  “We’ll be fine,” said Sam, encouragingly, but her eyes were wide and she kept looking at the floor. A classic sign that his sister was nervous.

  Not surprising, really. It was ten months since the school bus that they had been travelling in on the way home from St Paul’s Cathedral was blown up, killing and injuring so many of their classmates. This was the first time that James and Sam had set foot in the school following those terrible events. They had been living at their grandparents’ farmhouse in Suffolk and receiving private tuition since the beginning of the academic year. In that time, James had almost convinced himself that he would never have to return to this place.

  The family had only moved back into their own house in west London two weeks ago, at the beginning of the Easter holidays. James had had bad dreams every night since then.

  This coming Monday, James and Sam would resume their studies at the school. James had heard that many of the students who had survived the blast hadn’t come back. Some had terrible injuries, which meant they couldn’t attend school, while others had psychological traumas and the families had moved to another part of the country.

  Mum and Dad had attended lots of meetings with the headmaster over the previous month or so. Apparently, James and Sam were the last of the pupils due to return to South Ealing Comprehensive.

  In an attempt to lift the morale of Year 10, the headmaster had organized this party.

  James took three steps into the gym. A sea of faces turned towards him. James was suddenly rooted to the spot. A line of sweat ran down his back.

  Which was ironic, thought James. In the last year he had survived being killed in an exploding school bus, thrown off a building, attacked by zombie classmates, experimented on, and taken away from his family by a psychopathic billionaire businessman. And there was that really dangerous moment when he’d accidentally splodged jam on to one of Samantha’s favourite dresses. So what the hell was he scared of from seeing all his friends again?

  A roar went up from across the gym and James broke out into a huge smile when he saw some familiar faces. Steve Roadhouse, AJ Muthuswarmy and Stanley Parker — his best mates — were standing in a line, waving their arms at him and shouting like they were at a football match.

  Sam was laughing too as the three boys charged over, grabbed James in a headlock and began playfully pummelling him.

  “The Blakes are back in town,” announced AJ, triumphantly.

  James was instantly relaxed and loving it. All that worry had been for nothing. He was home again. Normality felt good.

  Finally his friends let him go and they turned to Sam.

  AJ whistled.

  “Well, welcome back, Sam,” he said, looking at her admiringly. “If that’s what living in the country for a few months does, let’s send all the girls out there.”

  Sam smiled, awkwardly.

  “You look amazing, Sam,” said Steve, sheepishly, earning himself a dig in the ribs from Stanley.

  Sam looked surprised.

  “Thank you,” she replied, shyly.

  “You’re welcome,” said Steve, unable to take his eyes off Sam.

  It had never occurred to James that his best mates might fancy his sister. Steve looked smitten and it was weird, but James let it go.

  “And you, man,” began Steve, enthusiastically. “You still look like your sister, you big girl. No offence to you, Sam,” he added, quickly.

  Sam smiled and James sighed.

  Why did people keep saying he looked like his sister? He looked nothing like her! And he had carefully chosen his clothes for the evening so that he didn’t mirror her. Whereas Sam had opted for blue jeans, a cream top and her red coat, James had chosen black jeans and a retro Nirvana T-shirt, with a grey and blue hoodie. He’d also had his fair hair cut short so that there was no foppish, floppy, girl-look to it. The goatee beard that he was trying to cultivate refused to play ball, though. Fortunately, at five foot ten he was bigger than all his friends, and he was proud of the muscle tone he had put on over the previous year.

  “Still working on your guns, then?” said Steve, grabbing James’s right bicep and inexplicably jumping up and down. “Oh, maybe you aren’t,” he cracked.

  “He’s been so looking forward to seeing you,” said Sam. “Every day, it’s, like, all I’ve heard about.”

  “What have you boys been up to then?” asked James, hopping from foot to foot in delight.

  “Nothing,” replied AJ. “Football team has got a lot better since you’ve not been in
it. What was it like at your grandparents’? Do much?”

  “It was very quiet,” replied James, quickly swapping glances with Sam. The reality had been anything but.

  “Then you’d better get your head back in the game, my son,” roared Steve. “You will not believe the action we have got ourselves into here.”

  “What are you going on about?” asked James. This was typical Steve. Always looking for where the excitement was.

  “He’s talking about the cool party that we’re all going to,” Stanley chimed in. “And you too, Sam, if you want?” Stanley looked hopeful.

  “But we’re at a party,” replied Sam.

  “A party, but not the party,” replied Steve, enigmatically.

  “I don’t get it.” Not for the first time, James was baffled as to what Steve was going on about.

  “You will,” said Steve, clapping James on the back. “Later. Come on, let’s have some fun first. Look, here come the ladies.”

  “Yaaaaay. Nina!” screamed Sam, as her best friend bounded across the gym and threw her arms around her. Nina was joined by three of Sam’s other friends and suddenly the decibel level was off the scale.

  ***

  It was a strange party, thought James, later. He had taken up a position by the food table so he could both people-watch and eat at the same time. He chomped thoughtfully on a sausage roll and returned the smile of Sasha Curran, a really cute girl who used to sit at the desk next to him in form and English classes. She looked a bit different from how he remembered. Her black hair was longer and maybe she was wearing make-up. Whatever it was, she looked pretty hot.

  “Sasha’s cool,” observed Steve, joining him.

  Steve was full of nervous energy. He kept looking around like he was waiting for the next big thing to happen.

  That was symptomatic of the party, thought James. Nobody looked relaxed or like they were really enjoying it. It had started with everybody pleased to see everybody else. A whole school year pumped up on excitement and sugar.

  Then it had gone flat.

  As James looked around the gym, noting all the faces that he hadn’t seen for a long time, it started to sink in that there were people he would never see again.

  With everyone in the year gathered in the same place, it hit home who was missing.

  The party had divided into two factions: the kids who were manically throwing themselves around on the dance floor; and those who seemed to have slipped into morbid discussions regarding death, appalling injuries and memories of that terrible day.

  “This is what it’s been like,” despaired Steve, waving his arm around the gym. “I know the whole bomb thing was huge,” he added, popping a sausage roll into his mouth and grabbing a handful of peanuts. “But no one can get over it. Does my head in.”

  “I don’t like thinking about it.”

  “Exactly,” said Steve, emphatically pushing his forefinger into James’s shoulder. “It was hell. I was lucky because I walked out without a scratch. But it’s like everybody wants to dwell on it. I’m just glad I’m alive and I want to forget about it, live my life and have fun. And more fun!”

  Steve had definitely changed, thought James. He had always been a livewire, but there was something different about him now. His hair was shoulder length and straggly. He was taller than James remembered, probably about five foot eight. He was still thin and wiry, but now his mischievous grin and manic demeanour had been cranked up to 100.

  “This is just so boring, man,” complained Steve, repeatedly punching James on the arm. “The school isn’t a nice place to be anymore, anyway.”

  “What do you mean?” asked James.

  “Aaah,” Steve just made a long groaning sound, as though it was something he didn’t want to talk about. “There’s bullying. Worse than when Emma Venton was here.”

  Emma Venton had been a nasty piece of work, but she’d been a victim of the bomb.

  “But that’s a whole other story.” Steve looked distracted when Sasha came and stood the other side of James and poured herself a lemonade.

  “Hey Sash, how’s it going?” James asked.

  “Cool. Great party, isn’t it?”

  “Really good,” agreed Steve, quickly. James widened his eyes at Steve, who just looked away with a cheeky grin on his face.

  “Great to see you back, James,” said Sasha, swishing her long, dark hair.

  “You too, Sash.”

  “I was off school on the day of the bombing. I was so lucky. I felt so sorry for you and your sister.” She looked sad too, with her big eyes, and mouth slightly open.

  “Yeah, it was pretty scary. Took me and Sam a long time to get over it.”

  Another girl joined them at the table, Lucy Xheng.

  “I still have nightmares about it,” said Lucy, shuddering. “I have this horrible dream where all this glass goes in my eyes.” She punctuated her sentence with a mime, her fingers simulating the glass flying into her face. “Did you get bad burns? I got burned on my leg, but you should see Peter Harrison’s back. It’s so gross.”

  “Errr, yeah,” said James.

  And then, for the next five minutes, he saw what Steve had meant. The conversation was mired in who had the worst injuries, like a game of casualty top trumps. James didn’t want to share his experiences. He felt too guilty. The superpowers that he and Sam had developed following the bombing had enabled them to recover completely from their injuries. It was hard to hear about those who were scarred for life, physically and mentally.

  “Isn’t it weird being back at school, after everything that happened?” persisted Lucy Xheng.

  Yes, thought James.

  “Girls, I need to borrow my man here, if you’ll just excuse us,” said Steve, first looking at his watch and then putting an arm around James and leading him away. Was it James’s imagination or did Sasha look disappointed?

  “Man, we got to get out of here,” declared Steve, giving James another playful punch in the stomach. “Hey. Good abs, man. You have been working out.”

  “The party will get going,” replied James. “I hope it will, anyway. Dad’s not picking me and Sam up until ten thirty.” He looked at his watch: 19:33.

  “The party won’t get going. We will,” promised Steve, grinning like a loon. “Things have changed a bit round here, brother. I am mr party guy now. I tell you, where we’re going will blow your mind.”

  James should have said, ‘But I can’t leave this party.’ He should have said that. He really should. Dad would be livid if he came to collect them at ten thirty and they were somewhere else.

  Instead, James said, “Where is this party?”

  Steve started laughing.

  “That’s the best thing, man. Nobody knows. Not yet. Grab your sister, I’m inviting her, too. We’re leaving in five minutes.”

  Chapter 2

  James had expected Sam to refuse to leave the party and he was right.

  “Are you stupid or something?” she asked, in the rude tone of voice that she seemed to reserve exclusively for him.

  “It’s the ‘or something’ option,” replied James, smartly, knowing it would wind her up.

  “Why do you want to leave?” asked Sam.

  Ah yes, thought James. It starts with an insult and then moves on to reasoned argument. Sometimes it worked and his sister would successfully talk him out of doing ‘the wrong thing’. Not today.

  “Well, I’m not saying the party is dead, but it does seem to have slipped into a coma, don’t you think?” replied James. “And all the sausage rolls have gone.”

  “That’s because you and Steve ate them all, I saw you,” retorted Sam.

  “Look, Steve says these parties are amazing. He’s been to two. It’s either that or stay around here and swap stories about how miserable we all are.”

  “What’s the matter with you?” asked Sam. “These are our friends. We’ve got to go back to school on Monday.”

  “Exactly. That’s bad enough. More reminders of w
hat happened to us. Brilliant. Can’t wait. I’d much rather go out and forget all about it.”

  “Well, you’re not going,” said Sam, flatly.

  “Excuse me?” James could feel his irritation mounting. There was that prickling sensation at the back of his neck. Nobody was going to get high and mighty with him, least of all his little sister.

  “Dad is picking us up at ten thirty. He will go ape if we’re not here. Look,” she said, softening her voice. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to snap. I know what you’re saying. I feel the same about this party. It hurts being here. I look around and I see all the missing faces.”

  “You’re just as bad as the rest of them,” cut in James.

  “I’m just saying, the school and the teachers have put in a lot of effort to arrange this party for us. They did it to try and cheer everybody up. I’d feel bad about just doing one. I know it sounds a bit over-dramatic, but if we leave this party, it’s like we’re giving up on our friends. It’s saying we don’t care and we’re not all in it together.”

  She had a point. Sam was a very compassionate person and James loved her for that. But her sharp observations could be incredibly annoying.

  “Yeah. I suppose that in some small, insignificant way, you are just possibly, maybe right,” he admitted, begrudgingly.

  At that point Steve bounded up to James, phone in hand.

  “I’ve got the message. We’re good to go,” he announced. “Ready, Sam?” he asked, eagerly.

  Sam shook her head.

  “Sorry, Stevie,” she replied. “I’m going to stay here.”

  “What? You’re mad.”

  “I’m staying, too,” added James, annoyed that he had given in to his conscience.

  “No way!” implored Steve. “Nina’s coming too.”

  “I don’t care,” said Sam.

  “Look, I know, I know. You think I’m going to let you down, don’t you? That it’s just going to be a party with more boring people, a tired DJ and a couple of lemonades. Man, this is something else. Coolest tunes in the city, everybody having a banging time, and—” he broke off, chuckling to himself as though he were enjoying a private joke.