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

  And if I get a chance to even the score with those gorillas, I’ll take it, thought Nicky, savagely, as he picked up the broken picture of his daughters.

  Chapter 9

  Monday 16 April

  James had always hated Monday mornings, but this was the worst for a long time.

  He sat in the front seat of Dad’s car, Sam in the back. They were being driven to school like primary-age kids. So embarrassing. The car pulled up in the drop-off zone outside the main gates.

  Up until the bombing, James and Sam had walked to school together. They lived less than half a mile away, so it was a no-brainer, no need for the car. But this was all part of Dad’s punishment for them. The humiliation of being driven in by a parent. Not very cool.

  It had been a pretty miserable weekend, all told. Grounded, naturally. That was a given.

  Sam and James had been forced to confess everything about the party in London Bridge. Unsurprisingly, both Dad and Mum had hit the roof. All sorts of phrases had been hurled at them: ‘Breach of trust’; ‘irresponsible’; ‘letting everybody down’; and the rather more unusual ‘gross’. James had immediately owned up to it being all his idea and said that Sam had only gone along to protect him, but he hadn’t managed to spare his sister any of the blame.

  So neither Sam nor James had set foot outside the door since Friday night. The only TV they’d been allowed to watch was the local news, which unfortunately ran the story about a full-scale riot trashing a construction site at London Bridge. They’d also had their phones, laptops and tablets confiscated. It was a grade-one, three-line, five-star, category-A rollicking.

  However, his parents had at least listened to the full story and taken on board the revelation that Super Drug was being given out for free at these parties. As to what Mum or Dad would do with that information, James had no idea.

  “Have a good day at school. Behave yourselves. Don’t make so much as a spelling mistake in lessons, do I make myself clear?”

  James and Sam grunted their acknowledgement and Dad handed over their phones. He obviously didn’t want to, but safety always came first and he didn’t like the idea of either of them being out of contact.

  “Also. Remember you’ve got appointments with the school counsellor today. So just… be careful what you say,” said Dad, more gently this time.

  “Yes,” replied James, wearily. Like they’d tell the counsellor they had superpowers.

  Dad smiled, despite his anger, which James took as a good sign. Dad was stressed at the moment. The company he had been working for had been bought out by Sir Michael Rosewood. Dad had resigned when he found out and hadn’t had a full-time job since. That was nearly a year ago. He was working odd contracts for various IT firms, and James suspected he was worried about money.

  “You realize this is all your fault,” complained Sam, switching her phone on as they got out of the car.

  “Yeah, I think you might have mentioned it once or twice.” James was in no mood for aggravation from his sister.

  “If we hadn’t gone off to that stupid party, then we wouldn’t be grounded for the next month.”

  “It’s all right for you,” said James. “You’re spending the next month with me. I’ve got to spend it looking at your mardy face.”

  “Ha ha.”

  “And despite what Dad says,” James added, “we had to go to find out about Super D.”

  “No, we didn’t! You just used that as an excuse because you wanted to go to some cool party and because Steve was going.”

  “Sam, with great power—”.

  “Oh, shut your face.” Sam stormed off.

  Too early in the morning for those kind of jokes, obviously.

  ***

  “Morning,” said Steve Roadhouse, falling into step with James. He looked terrible. His skin was grey, his eyes sunken, he had a nasty bruise on his left cheek and all his natural exuberance was gone.

  “Which cemetery did they dig you up from?” asked James.

  “Dunno. Last thing I remember was taking a swig from some bottle. I can’t remember anything else before I woke up in bed Sunday morning.”

  “Don’t you mean Saturday?”

  “I mean Sunday. No idea what happened to Saturday. How did you get home?”

  “Don’t know,” lied James. “It’s all a blur.”

  “I think Baz might have given me a lift. He can’t remember, either. He woke up panicking about his car. We found it in the back garden! And you can’t even get a wheelie bin down the side passage, so none of us know how it got there or how to get it out.”

  Laughing, James trooped into the school. That one wasn’t even down to him, so goodness knows how Baz had managed it.

  As he filed down the corridor, James shivered. It was odd being back in the school, with its familiar smells and noises. He wasn’t used to being cooped up in a building with hundreds of other students. He’d become accustomed to the comfort of his grandparents’ farmhouse and its big, open spaces. James felt oddly claustrophobic and experienced a moment of panic.

  “You gotta see this though, this is cool,” said Steve, getting his phone out of his pocket. “My phone actually woke me up this morning. It just started playing this video. It was like, Paranormal Activity or something. It’s so cool, though. Look.”

  Steve played the video.

  It was DJ Alchemy from the party on Friday night, still covered from head to foot in his black and neon skeleton costume. He was standing outside the ruins of the construction site where the party had taken place. The building looked battered, the construction boards had been pulled down, glass, masonry and other debris was scattered around the site and on the pavement.

  Someone else was obviously holding the camera. DJ Alchemy was dancing in front of the building, pulling out crime-scene tape and whirling it around his body.

  He stopped dancing, as if just noticing the camera.

  “Hey, party people,” he said, in the familiar modulated voice. “We had a pretty banging time on Friday, didn’t we? And then the cops had to show up and ruin everything. But I promised you more, didn’t I? There’s something massive happening this Saturday. You’ll find out about it in the usual way. But because this one is a bit special, all this week I’ll be sending you a message with a lesson of the day. Starting now.”

  He pointed at the building behind him.

  “This was going to be a big hotel,” explained DJ Alchemy. “For all the high rollers who come to London with plenty of cash. You and I wouldn’t have been welcome here.” He theatrically waved a neon finger at the camera. “Then the recession started and construction stopped. It reminds me of the lesson Jesus taught us about the man who built his house on sand. You know the one. It fell down. Well, hang on.”

  DJ Alchemy turned away from the camera and started walking towards the building, as the picture faded to black.

  “What’s going on?” asked James.

  “Keep watching,” said Steve, enigmatically.

  A caption popped up over the black screen:

  ‘Five minutes later’

  Then it faded back into the video, as DJ Alchemy was running from the construction site, towards the camera, shouting, “Get back. Run.”

  The picture jerked sickeningly as the camera operator was obviously doing as he was told. All James could see was pavement and feet.

  There was the distorted sound of crunching and roaring. Finally, some distance away, the camera swung back to face the building. To James’s astonishment, the entire side of the hotel facing the Thames was collapsing. It looked to James like the lower concrete supports had given way, and the upper struts dropped into their place, giving the impression of a giant brought to its knees. The fascia panels of the building broke up, slid off the building and crashed onto the ground below with a terrific bang. Plumes of dust were sent shooting into the air.

  The noise continued, but the camera panned back to DJ Alchemy who was dancing again.

  “More tomorrow,” he s
houted, and the screen faded to black. Another caption popped up that read: ‘DJ Alchemy Productions’.

  James was stunned.

  “What was that? What did he do?”

  “I don’t know,” said Steve. “But he is one messed-up dude. Did you see the way the building just crumbled? It’s on the news, too. Although the news reports didn’t mention DJ Alchemy. They probably haven’t seen the video yet.”

  James was suddenly jolted forward as an older boy clashed shoulders with him.

  “You little mongrels shouldn’t be looking at that,” said the kid, stopping and grabbing James by his blazer. “This is big boy stuff. Not for you.”

  The boy looked oddly familiar. He must be in Year 11. He was tall, well built, with fair hair. He radiated aggression. His top lip was partly curled up, like an animal’s snarl, and his eyes were wide open.

  “Try not to be a tool,” replied James, who wasn’t remotely intimidated. The older boy was crumpling James’s blazer with his big monkey hands. When James tried to remove it, to his surprise, he couldn’t. Unlike Sam, James did not possess enhanced physical strength. He could have used his telekinesis to push the boy away, but that would draw unwanted attention.

  And then Sam was at his side. She took hold of the idiot’s clenched fist, prised open his fingers and gave him a hefty shove. The boy nearly fell over, but was caught by three cronies standing behind him.

  “Leave my brother alone,” Sam demanded.

  The idiot regained his balance, drew himself up to his full height and, for a second, looked as if he was about to launch himself at Sam. Something must have stopped him. Perhaps it was the look of composed determination on Sam’s face. Even James wouldn’t mess with her when she was in this mood.

  “All right, Blake, I recognize you,” the older boy said, addressing James and ignoring Sam. “First day back, yeah?”

  James said nothing.

  “Did you get hurt in the little bus?” the boy teased, in a baby voice. “Did you cry and have to stay at home with your mummy?”

  “You’re going to look pretty silly when a girl younger than you makes you cry,” Sam stepped forward.

  The idiot smiled, without any trace of humour.

  “I’ll let you off this time,” he said, quietly. “But I’ll be seeing you two babies again, so keep looking over your shoulder, yeah?”

  The idiot straightened his tie, shrugged his shoulders, and walked off, accompanied by his entourage.

  “I’d better wipe him off my shoe,” James heard the idiot say, full of bravado, and his crew burst into laughter.

  James congratulated himself on not losing his temper. He was aware that he had a short fuse, and was not given to letting a comment like that go. But under the circumstances, it made sense not to stir up any trouble. He caught Sam’s eye. She didn’t smile. Clearly she hadn’t forgiven him yet. He didn’t know whether to be annoyed that she had tried to fight his battles for him or just relieved that she cared enough to intervene.

  “You may be an ape but you’re still my brother,” she muttered, not quite looking him in the eye.

  Sam walked away and joined up with a grey-looking Nina Palmer.

  “Stay away from him,” Steve warned James. “Not a nice person.”

  “Who is he?”

  “Mark Foster, head prefect. The tool that I was telling you about in the car on Friday night.”

  And now James knew where he had seen the kid before. He had been at the party at London Bridge. He was the lad who had taken the water bottle containing Super D, which Sam had been given. The boy who had jumped through the window in his boxer shorts with that girl.

  “His brother is good mates with DJ Alchemy,” added Steve. “The DJ gives the Foster brothers Super D. So obviously, Foster is good at sport, has the girls hanging round him, and breezes all his classes. He’s the poster boy for the school.”

  Now that did shock James. It had been surprising enough to learn that Sir Michael Rosewood’s drug was being given away at parties, but to find out that it had made its way into the school was something else.

  “Where did DJ Alchemy get the Super D from?” asked James.

  Steve shrugged.

  “And what is Foster doing with the Super D?”

  “I told you. Using it to act like a super tool. Everyone is scared of him, but the teachers haven’t got a clue.”

  His bad mood rapidly expanding, James plodded into his classroom.

  ***

  James sat down at his old desk, next to Steve. That felt funny, too. It was like he’d never been away.

  Sam and Nina sat two desks away. There was something different about Sam. James noticed it immediately. She was no longer angry with him. And there was something else. She was whispering with Nina, Nina was whispering back, and trying to look at Sam’s phone.

  His sister looked around at him, almost guiltily. James gave her a quizzical look and she quickly turned away. Curious, James got up and walked over to Sam’s desk.

  “You ok?” he asked, genuinely concerned. He’d never seen Sam act like this.

  “Fine,” she said, quickly. “Go back to your desk and try not to let Steve get you into trouble.”

  Which was unusually cutting for Sam, thought James in surprise. Nina giggled.

  “Sam’s got an admirer,” she cooed.

  “Shut up, Nina,” replied Sam, half appalled, half pleased. She looked up at James as though she’d just been caught playing his guitar without permission.

  “Who’s Al?” Nina asked James.

  Al? James couldn’t think of an Al.

  “He wants to see her again,” added Nina, giggling and trying unsuccessfully to grab Sam’s phone. “He texted her. ‘Can’t get you out of my head’, he said,” teased Nina, only stopping when Sam put her hand over Nina’s mouth.

  James was puzzled. Sam hadn’t met any boy, at least not to his knowledge.

  “Who’s Al?” he asked.

  Sam bit her lip.

  “Look, I’ll tell you later, ok?” she said, lowering her voice. She obviously didn’t want to talk about it right now. Fair enough.

  He lolloped back to his desk and slumped into his chair. Steve had his elbows on the desk, head in his hands, groaning softly. Poor Steve. Whatever he’d taken on Friday night had ruined him.

  Sasha Curran, the girl who’d flirted with James at the school party, sat down at the desk next to James.

  “Hi, James,” she said, her eyes flicking between him and her school bag.

  “Hi, Sash.” Is she interested in me? James wondered.

  “It was really nice seeing you on Friday. I’m glad you’re back,” she said.

  “Yeah. Good seeing you. Sorry I left early.” Just play it cool, he thought. She is very cute.

  “Oh, that’s ok. Missed you though.”

  “Cheers.”

  “You seeing the counsellor today?”

  James’s heart sank. He’d managed to forget that already. Eleven thirty, Ms Pope the counsellor, room seven. Great. Thanks, South Ealing Comprehensive School. Thanks, education authority, Big Brother, or whoever it was that dictated he had to go through some legal back-to-school process thing.

  “She’s ok,” encouraged Sasha. “It’s Ms Pope. She’s actually really nice. I saw her for several sessions, too.”

  But you weren’t even on the bus when it exploded, thought James. Sasha was hot but she was depressing him. James nodded, trying to look grateful. He wasn’t sure how convincing he was. Sam often told him he was a rubbish actor.

  “I might send Steve in my place, he looks like he needs it more,” joked James, hoping to lighten the conversation.

  “Just give yourself time,” said Sasha, clearly trying to be sweet. James couldn’t fault her for that. He just didn’t want to hear it.

  “I’m here if you need me,” added Sash, and gave him a beautiful smile.

  “Thanks,” said James, only to be jogged on the elbow by Steve. He winked at James.

  �
�What was all that with Sam?” asked Steve.

  “She’s got a text from some kid. Someone obviously fancies her.”

  “Who?” asked Steve, animated for the first time this morning.

  “Don’t know. Someone called Al.”

  “Damn. Your sis is looking amazing these days, I really wanted to have a crack at her myself.” He stopped himself, realizing what he had just said. James narrowed his eyes at Steve.

  “Errr. I mean, I’ve always really respected your sister,” Steve clarified. “Hey, wouldn’t it be funny if Al was DJ Alchemy?”

  Had a penny just dropped inside James’s head? Had it clunked the sides of his skull, like a pinball, as it made its way down to his consciousness? Steve was kidding but James had the feeling that it made a horrible kind of sense.

  Sam must have heard Steve’s comment because she was looking over her shoulder at James, blushing down to her roots.

  Inwardly, James groaned.

  ***

  Lessons passed by in something of a daydream for James. Each teacher welcomed Sam and James back to school. Maths was boring, French was a blur, History was better, but the warmth of the classroom and the gentle hum of the projector lulled James into a doze.

  James was vaguely aware that the image on the screen of First World War trenches had changed, but he only looked up when he heard the sharp, collective intake of breath from the class, and then several titters of laughter. Giggles quickly descended into mocking whistles and catcalls.

  The image on the screen was a photo of James’s face, superimposed onto the body of a cartoon image of Superman. Next to that image was one of a big red heart. Underneath both images were the words:

  ‘I love James Blake. He’s my class hero!’

  James was stunned. Partly flattered, but it was so out of the blue, so public and so crazy that he didn’t know what to make of it. Had Steve done it as some kind of stupid joke? No, Steve looked as surprised as anyone. Sasha? No, her face was a picture of amazement and stony-faced displeasure. Definitely not her.