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

  James and Sam exchanged puzzled glances.

  “And what?” asked James.

  “How strong are you, James?” asked Steve, still laughing.

  “Not as strong as he smells,” said Sam.

  James elbowed her in the ribs.

  “At this party, there’s this new stuff that’s going around,” declared Steve, eyes shining.

  James’s stomach lurched. Drugs? No, not Steve. Please say that he wouldn’t be so stupid.

  “I tell you, this stuff is the business,” Steve insisted. “The DJ just throws it out for free. It’s in a cocktail. Drink it, and the next minute, you’re stronger than the Hulk. Seriously. You should have seen me last week. I picked up a car. And not just a mini. A big Lexus thing.”

  “But that’s…” stuttered Sam.

  “Incredible? I know!” whooped Steve. “It’s the new thing on the underground party scene. Oh yes, ma’am. It’s called Super Drug.”

  Chapter 3

  Samantha Blake was very uncomfortable, in every sense. She was doing every bad thing that she’d ever been warned about.

  She was in the back of a speeding car, driven by somebody she barely knew, heading towards a party at an unknown location, where there would be a whole manner of bad stuff, including drugs. To top it all, she wasn’t even sitting on a proper seat. She was perched on Steve’s lap, and he had really bony knees.

  Next to her, Nina was happily sitting on James. Sam almost couldn’t believe her best friend had dared to come. Nina’s family were very ‘traditional Indian’, as Nina was fond of saying. Her father was even stricter and more old fashioned than Sam’s Dad, impossible though that seemed.

  The car was being driven by Steve’s older brother, known as Bazooka — or Baz. In the front seat was a very sulky older girl with wavy hair and a French pout. She kept giving Sam dirty looks, as though she held Sam personally responsible for having to share the journey with a load of kids.

  Sam, meanwhile, held James personally responsible for the whole thing. She wished that, in addition to possessing super strength, the power to heal rapidly, and to control fire, that she also possessed a telepathic kick. If she had such a gift, she would be mentally booting her brother in the shin right now.

  James’s other friends, AJ and Stanley, were apparently making their own way to the party, with AJ’s brother. Good luck with that, she thought.

  When Mum and Dad found out about this non-sanctioned excursion, as inevitably they would, there would be fireworks.

  “Sis, we have to go to that party to find out if they really do have Super Drug. It’s our moral responsibility,” James had insisted, with an almost-straight face.

  Responsibility my bottom, thought Sam. He’s desperate to go to this party and he’s just using that as an excuse.

  The problem was, if Super Drug was being given away at this party, then Sam wasn’t going to let her brother go on his own to get involved in… well, whatever it was that was happening.

  Sam and James knew all about Super Drug. It had been created by a pharmaceutical firm called G-Netik, which was owned by the tycoon Sir Michael Rosewood. The drug gave the user temporary superpowers, which manifested as incredible strength and the ability to heal rapidly.

  From what Sam had seen, people who used it tended to become aggressive, violent, almost intoxicated with their new power. It also carried its own health risks to the user. For some reason, the older you were, the more likely it was that you would suffer a heart attack. Sam had seen a 30-year-old man drop dead in front of her after taking the drug.

  “Look at this, this is brilliant,” enthused Steve, clutching his phone. “The parties are all held in secret. The only way to know where it is, is to have this app.”

  Sam looked at the screen, where she could see a map of London. A small green circle surrounded the area around Tower Bridge. A blue triangle was flashing in North London, just past Wembley. Aaah, that’s us, realized Sam.

  “At the moment it’s just telling us the general area. In about 30 minutes the map will change and it will show us exactly where we need to go. Baz, we’re going to the Tower.”

  Appropriate, thought Sam. That’s where Dad will lock me up for the rest of my life.

  Baz drove the car like he had stolen it. Every few minutes, he would turn off the main road, accelerate down a series of connecting side streets, join up with the original road further up, accelerate along the bus lane and then dodge down another rat run.

  The effect on Sam was that she was constantly rolling from side to side so that she and Nina had to cling on to each other to stop them ending up on the floor of the car. Sam feared for them both. If Baz suddenly slammed on the brakes, both girls would end up going through the windscreen and while that would be unpleasant for Sam, it would be fatal for Nina.

  “It’s like being inside a meteor,” Sam complained, as Steve put his arms around her waist to stop her from ending up on the front seat.

  “That’s the trouble with bringing children along,” drawled the all-too-cool girl in the front seat. Sam wanted to hit her.

  She peered out of the window. Look-alike roads flashed by, car horns honked angrily, speed cameras flashed, but none of it seemed to bother Baz, who just slouched against the driver-side window with one hand on the steering wheel.

  “How did you hear about the party?” Sam asked Steve.

  “From Baz. One of his mates is a computer guy and he coded this app. It’s called Party Jacker.” Steve tapped the screen of his phone. Sam could see the name of the app in the top right corner, next to a yellow, upside-down smiley icon.

  “He took Baz to a party and I made Baz take me to the next one,” said Steve.

  “Actually, he paid me to take him,” said Baz, good-naturedly. “My little brother seems to have more money than me.”

  Sam had only met Baz once before. He was 19, and with his long, sandy hair and tanned face he was good looking in a surf-bum kind of way. Sam had no idea if he had a job or what he did for a living, but he talked a lot about parties.

  “The guy who built the app is Jonas Foster, brother of Mark Foster,” explained Steve, with an edge to his voice. He looked at Sam and James as though they were expected to know who these people were.

  “You know, Mark Foster,” insisted Steve, waving his arms around. “He’s head prefect at our school.”

  “We’ve not actually been in school this year, Steve,” Sam reminded him, shifting position on his knee. “And can you keep still? It’s like sitting on knitting needles.”

  “Ah well, he’s a total numpty anyway. Nasty person. You haven’t missed much.”

  “His brother’s a good guy, though,” drawled Baz. “Really smart. Runs his own computer business.”

  “He’s also a tool,” said Steve, dismissively. “But thanks to him, you’ll be going to the most immense party you’ve ever been to. Woah, woah!” he waved his phone around, causing Sam to pitch sideways.

  “Steve,” she grumbled, righting herself.

  “Location change,” Steve shouted to Baz. “It’s London Bridge.”

  Baz just nodded his head and languidly rested his left hand on his girlfriend’s leg.

  It was getting dark, traffic was still heavy and a light film of rain coated the windscreen. Sam shivered.

  “You ok?” asked Steve.

  Sam nodded.

  “Who is selling Super Drug?” asked James. “Where did it come from?”

  “Does it make you thin?” asked Nina.

  Sam noticed how Nina took James’s hands and put them around her waist in the same way that Steve’s were around Sam’s own. Nina! You can’t get all flirty with my brother! That’s just wrong.

  “That’s the amazing thing,” explained Steve. “There’s one kid who stages these parties. He DJs and he gives away shots of Super D to people he thinks are the best dancers. It’s wicked. Everyone just goes mental, dancing like monkeys or something. Crazy, right?”

  Totally crazy, thought Sam. Co
uld it really be the same drug that Sir Michael Rosewood had pioneered at G-Netik? That drug was worth a fortune, according to Sir Michael. As far as Sam was aware, only one case of it had been produced and it was in the possession of a guy called Simon Brown. Sam had no idea of Simon’s whereabouts, but it was almost inconceivable that such a rare, valuable drug would find its way into the underground party circuit and be given out for free. How could some kid be giving it away as a prize for a dance-off? How did he even get hold of it?

  “Who is the DJ?” asked James.

  “DJ Alchemy. He’s brilliant. Wait ’til you see him.”

  “Are there other drugs at the party?” asked Sam.

  “Why, you want some?” asked the sulky girl, looking around from the front seat. She sounded very sarcastic, and gave Sam a withering look from under her fringe.

  “No, thanks. They make you very dull and slow, so I’ve heard,” replied Sam, giving the girl a sweet smile. The girl turned away.

  “It’s everything you want, man,” said Steve. “Anything goes.”

  Until ten thirty when we have to be back at school, pondered Sam. She caught James’s eye. He winked at her. Mentally, she kicked his other shin.

  ***

  As they got closer to central London, Sam noted how the buildings became taller and grander, and the streets were teeming with life. Smartly dressed men and women hurried into wine bars. Couples cuddled tightly under umbrellas, lost in their own world as they made their way through the glistening streets. Girls wearing amazingly short skirts and low cut tops hobbled on high heels, laughing with men in smart pin-striped shirts.

  Despite herself, Sam felt a thrill at being part of this exciting, grown-up world.

  Before long, Sam spotted a sign for Cannon Street station, and shortly after that, Baz took a right turn down a narrow side street. He cheerfully parked the car among what were obviously the spaces reserved for a plush office block.

  The journey had lasted only 30 minutes and Sam felt as though her bones were still rattling. They all got out of the car. It was still raining. She was glad she had chosen jeans, a top and her coat instead of a party dress.

  They started walking. Steve led the group, phone in hand. On the map, a green dot was centred over a building close to London Bridge. The blinking blue triangle told Sam that they were approaching Upper Thames Street. Sam guessed they were less than ten minutes away.

  “Will there be anyone else our age there?” she asked.

  Sulky girl gave a muted snort. It was her attitude that had prompted Sam’s question. It was her experience that adults hated having kids around at any kind of party.

  “Loads,” replied Steve. “Doesn’t mean you won’t get any Super D, don’t worry. DJ Alchemy doesn’t discriminate against age,” he added with a laugh.

  ***

  The group ran across Lower Thames Street, dodging between buses and taxis. Nina squealed as Sam pulled her out of the path of a cyclist, who shouted obscenities at them as he pedalled off into the night.

  The group then proceeded down an incredibly narrow road, flanked on either side by imposing buildings. At the end of the street, Sam glimpsed a row of expensive-looking apartments on the other side of the Thames.

  There was a large group of people congregating at the end of the road, by the embankment. Sam looked over her shoulder to see a bunch of twenty-somethings following behind. They were laughing and talking and there was a general air of excitement building.

  It was dark now and the road was poorly lit. Sam didn’t like it.

  When her group reached the river bank they turned right, facing the railway bridge.

  “Well, this is definitely it,” said Steve, showing his phone to anybody who cared to look. The blue triangle was centred within the small green circle. Even without the GPS, it was obvious that they had arrived as a throng had amassed around the tall white building that overlooked the Thames.

  The building was clearly a work in progress, as it was surrounded by construction boards. Someone had created a large hole within one of the wooden boards and, one-by-one, people clambered through the gap.

  Sam’s group joined the throng. The mood was buoyant and friendly. Most of the people were in their teens or early twenties. Their styles and fashions varied wildly from jeans-and-a-T-shirt, to punk, glam, goth and bizarre science-fiction outfits.

  Sam clambered through the hole in the boarding, snagging her coat on the rough, splintered wood.

  “Remind me to kill you when we get home,” she muttered to James.

  She stumbled across uneven paving stones, avoiding mud and sand. A makeshift wooden ramp led in through the main doors, which looked like they had been forced open.

  The room that Sam found herself in was a large atrium, marble floors and walls, but devoid of any furniture. The building might be intended as a hotel, offices or apartments, Sam wasn’t sure. She just followed the crowd as the expectant partygoers made their way up two flights of steps. They emerged into a large open space, a room that appeared to run almost the entire length and breadth of the building. Without a doubt, this was where the party was happening.

  Chapter 4

  There were already several hundred people milling around the room, drinking from water bottles of the type you might take to the gym. There was no music yet, but plenty of noise, courtesy of the shouts, shrieks, laughter and other strange noises rolling around the big space.

  The room was just a concrete shell with a series of supporting pillars. The windows were taped-up, but it wasn’t dark, thanks to the arrays of disco lights, which twirled, flashed and spun, and hurt Sam’s eyes.

  The decorators obviously hadn’t got around to working on this part of the building yet. There were no furnishings, decor or even a drop of paint on the walls. The ceiling was high, like in a cinema or theatre, and was criss-crossed with scaffolding. A raised metal walkway ran along the left and right side of the room. Spotlights had been placed at various points on the walkways. Several guys, stripped to the waist, had already found their way up to the raised section. One was hanging off the gantry like a chimp, for no reason that was obvious to Sam.

  At the far end of the room was a makeshift stage that had been erected from packing cases. It was hard to see it clearly because of the powerful lights firing out at the gathering of ready revellers, but Sam was fairly sure she could make out a series of large speakers.

  Sam and her group had no choice but to push forward into the room as yet more people clamoured behind them to join the party. There was a sense of anticipation, of expectancy, but it was like the atmosphere was on a knife edge. So many people, so much energy, that there could be an outpouring of spontaneous joy — or the tension would spill over into violence. With so many people already thrust into the space, and more pouring in all the time, what would happen if people did start taking Super D? It could get very nasty.

  It was a world away from the safety, comfort and clean toilets of the school disco.

  Suddenly, all the lights went off and the entire room was plunged into darkness. The crowd went silent; then, as the seconds passed, a muted hum built up to a hopeful roar.

  And then the world went white as the entire complement of lights burst back into life and began sweeping left, right, up and down. Sam had to blink and turn away. The frantically moving beams made her feel dizzy and robbed her of all sense of perspective.

  Then came the noise. Drum beats pumping out like missiles from the huge sound system and the crowd went wild, jumping up and down like they were watching a band at Wembley Stadium.

  As one, the lights swept up to the ceiling, where it seemed that a glowing neon skeleton was crawling through the criss-crossing scaffolds above Sam’s head.

  The lights struggled to keep up with the figure as it scuttled across the latticework at an incredible speed, until it stopped and hung upside down above the stage area. The roar of the crowd went up a level and the figure dropped onto the stage, landing neatly, feet-first.


  Sam was too far away to make out the person distinctly, but she was sure that it was a boy, not much older than her, and he was dressed from head to foot in a black body suit. The skeleton was a reflective print on the front of the outfit. It was very effective and really quite freaky.

  “Let’s get this party started, people,” boomed a modulated voice over the sound system.

  The skeleton was joined by two men and two women, who started emptying boxes on the stage and throwing objects into the crowd. They were bottles, Sam realized and the partygoers were catching them, cheering as they did so.

  “Let’s get closer and we’ll get one,” said Steve, pushing his way through the crowd. Seconds later he had vanished amid the throng.

  “What’s in the bottles?” James shouted at Baz.

  Steve’s brother shrugged.

  “Could be booze. Could be anything.”

  Everyone seemed to be having a good time, but Sam felt horribly out of place. She was no control freak, but if it wasn’t for the fact that she had the security blanket of her superpowers and that James could teleport them home at any time, she would have been scared.

  Baz didn’t appear to be even slightly worried. In fact, Sam wasn’t sure he even had a pulse, he was so laid back. Steve was nowhere to be seen. Nina remained by Sam’s side, but her eyes were shining with excitement, like Alice in her own weird wonderland. But what of Stanley and AJ, James’s other two friends. Had they even made it to the party?

  When Sam looked back at the stage, the skeleton had taken up a position inside a makeshift booth, where he was flipping records and dropping them onto a deck.

  “It’s us against the world people, so it’s time to dance like it’s our last day on Earth!” said that robot-sounding modulated voice again. “DJ Alchemy on the scene. Let’s go people, let’s go crazy! Remember. London! Belongs! To us!”

  There was a massive roar of approval and the party was off and running.

  The music was loud, the crowd frantic. The lights span seemingly uncontrollably, changing direction and colour, zipping and zapping to the tunes. Dancers — men and women — wearing skeleton outfits similar to DJ Alchemy, got up onto crates to show everybody how to move.