Jason Willow: Face Your Demons Read online

  A few minutes later the bells started clanging and Jason trudged off to science.

  ***

  Double science passed uneventfully. Just as in maths, most of the class were behind Jason in the topics they’d covered, even with his taking a year out of school after his mother’s murder. Violet however, was ahead of him by quite some way.

  On the way out of the classroom, he came face to face with the prefect from outside maths.

  ‘He hasn’t done anything wrong.’ Violet said, stepping up beside Jason. The rest of the class, including Baldwin scurried off to drain away down the nearest stairwell.

  ‘Shove off, Gray,’ the prefect rumbled, ‘Willow you stay exactly where you are.’

  ‘You can’t just take him – he’s been assigned to me for the day,’ Violet said, stepping further forward.

  ‘Violet,’ Jason hissed, ‘I can look after myself.’

  ‘Shut it Willow,’ said the prefect then turned to Violet. ‘You do know, little orphan, that Mr Brash has personally told us that you’re to be treated no differently from any of the other scum infecting our corridors.’

  ‘Rubbish’ Violet almost shouted, but she took a half step back. ‘Now think hard… he didn’t actually say that, did he?’

  ‘More or less. Now don’t worry about your boyfriend, here. He hasn’t done anything wrong… yet. I just need a little chat with him.’

  ‘Everyone knows what your “little chats” involve…’ Violet began but Jason cut in.

  ‘Violet, it’s fine. Thanks and all that, but you’re showing me up.’

  Violet flashed a glance along the now deserted corridors then stared at Jason. ‘Showing you up? Duh… there’s no one else here.’

  Jason shook his head in exasperation. ‘I know, but…’

  ‘Fine,’ Violet said and stalked off down the stairs.

  ‘Right,’ Willow turned back to the prefect, ‘what do you want?’

  The prefect waited for Violet to disappear down the stairwell then looked down at Jason.

  ‘You’re new, Willow, so I gave you a chance outside maths. Learn quick – don’t interfere with anything the prefects do. Just keep your head down, do what we tell you and sod off out of our way.’

  ‘Is that it?’

  The prefect stared at him. ‘For now.’

  Jason turned to leave but another prefect had silently arrived at the top of the stairwell.

  ‘He’s to use the east stairs, Greg,’ the new arrival said, his voice filling the deserted corridor, ‘these are busy.’

  ‘Yeah, I know,’ replied Jason’s escort. ‘This way, Willow.’ He pointed to the left and with a shrug, Jason started walking.

  Greg followed him. The building had the same layout on all four floors - four corridors forming a square around the work yard outside. Each corridor had a narrow spiral staircase dropping down into one of the entrance passages below.

  They reached the east stairs and Greg grunted that he should go down first. The science labs were on the fourth floor and the big prefect’s footsteps echoed ominously behind Jason as they dropped down passed each of the other corridors. They were all deserted now – cleared for the lunch break.

  Finally Jason stepped down into the flickering gloom of the East Passage. Anxious to be away from Greg, he immediately turned towards the yard and found himself staring at Louisa. She stood a step back in the yard’s sunlight, staring down into the dark passageway. Darius was standing close to her, looking annoyed about something.

  ‘Ah, Jason my boy, what a coincidence. How is your first day going?’

  Jason span around. Alan Brash was standing about two feet away holding a briefcase and a pile of files. He was in a light grey suit, perfectly cut to his impressive frame.

  ‘Oh, uh, fine, Mr Brash, thank you.’

  Greg faded back upstairs at a nod from Brash.

  ‘Good, good,’ Brash smiled and then struggled to shift the files under one arm whilst holding his briefcase.

  Jason didn’t really have much choice. ‘Can I help you with those, Mr Brash?’

  ‘Ah, I was hoping you would say that - your father has brought you up well.’

  He swung the files into Jason’s arms. ‘Governors’ business I’m afraid - even the Chairman gets homework in this place. Just bring them over to my car would you, Jason?’

  Brash began to walk towards the outside.

  Jason flashed a look back at Louisa. She was biting her lip and even Darius was looking vaguely concerned. It was lunchtime – only the gangs would be out there.

  ‘This way, Jason – you’re allowed out of the building at lunch you know.’ Brash called over his shoulder.

  Again, Jason had no choice. Quickly, he caught up with Brash and fell in step beside him.

  ‘Not afraid of a few youths with wild spirits are you, Jason - not a lad with your… talents?’

  The section of block-paved drive Jason could see outside was dazzling in the sunlight and completely deserted. ‘Mr Brash,’ he began, ‘those things you did last night – Dad has never shown me anything like that. He hadn’t told me anything about the Gift or demons or… anything really.’

  ‘I know,’ Brash said, stopping just short of the sunlight at the end of the passage. ‘Remember I’ve known your father a long time and I can understand his wanting to hide things from you – he went through some terrible times, we all did.’

  ‘Yes, but he won’t even explain properly about the agents who killed my mother. What do they want, where are they coming from? And what about these… powers you said…’

  Brash held up his free hand, his eyes holding Jason’s. ‘Let’s give your old man a chance to come through, shall we… it’s meant to be his responsibility to tell you everything and begin your training. I don’t want you to rush into finding out things from… other sources?’ He winked at Jason then glanced at his watch. ‘Sorry, but I’d better get on – I’ve a lunch meeting at the brewery.’

  They both stepped out into brilliant sunshine forcing Jason to squint. A wide drive ran along this side of the school and a wood dropped down the hill on the far side. Another superb black Bentley waited for Brash in the shade of a large oak. Jason recognised it as the sporty Continental model.

  A bottle smashed somewhere to the right. Jason peered through the dazzling sunlight to see half a dozen Skins materialise out of the wood. They stared back at him, lighting up cigarettes and lounging against the trees.

  Brash smiled thinly. ‘Lovely lot – the studded and tattooed faces of the future… if we’re not careful.’ He put one hand on Jason’s shoulder, gripping him firmly. ‘As slovenly as they are, Jason, do remember they can be dangerous. They won’t follow any sort of rules… should you happen to wind up in a fight with any of them, for instance. Still, perhaps that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ Jason asked. More Skins were slipping out from the trees to join the others now – a mixture of heights and builds but all studded and tattooed with hard muscled arms hanging out of dirty T-shirts and vest tops.

  ‘Your forthcoming Gifts are not some all-powerful magic, Jason, there are no wizardly spells to save the day and there will be limits to the power, even for you. Most of what we can do is exercised through physical skills – strength, speed, suppleness, coordination and martial techniques.’

  ‘You mean Jakra, don’t you? Dad’s been teaching Miranda and me that all our lives.’

  ‘Good, good… at least he did that much for you. However, training against people who don’t want to seriously damage you is no substitute for a real fight where anything can happen - where there are no rules. To survive in our world you must win quickly and move on. Our friends in the trees over there could be considered as… practice.’

  ‘Oh – I see,’ Jason said, his stomach tightening. ‘What about the others… the Brash gang? Are they “practice” as well?’

  ‘Ah now then, they’re a different class of vicious youth,’ Brash said, making no move to
wards his car as still more Skins sloped out of the trees. There were perhaps thirty of them now, gathering like hyenas closing on a cub guarded by just one lion.

  Brash looked down at Jason. ‘You would do well to get to know the Brash boys and girls I’d say, they could teach you a thing or two, not to mention safety in numbers and all that. Now I really must leave for this meeting.’

  He began to cross the road. Jason glanced back at the Skins then hurried to catch up with Brash who was almost at the Bentley. He wondered if Cadaveril was sitting behind the blacked out windows.

  The boot opened as Brash reached it and Jason put the files inside. Brash shut the boot with a heavy clunk. ‘Sixty in five and a half seconds, you know?’ He said, running one finger along the gleaming paintwork to the driver’s door. ‘I like to drive this one myself.’

  ‘It’s brilliant, Mr Brash,’ Jason said, ignoring the Skins for a moment to gaze down the aggressive lines of the Bentley.

  Brash nodded. ‘We are special people, Jason, you and I… even your father. If you accept and keep your place in our world the rewards can be… substantial.’

  Brash glanced over to the East Passage as he spoke but Jason couldn’t see anything in the comparative gloom.

  ‘Remember – choose your friends carefully here in Silent Hill. Off you go now - I shall see you soon, no doubt.’

  Jason nodded. ‘Bye.’ Trying not to seem hurried, he turned back into the shadow of Silent Hill.

  On his left, the Skins had slunk closer and now began slouching away from the trees in a ragged line. He forced himself to walk at a steady pace - there was no way he was going to run for the passage in front of them.

  A movement to the right caught his eye. Two boys appeared around the front corner of the school. They were tall and smartly dressed in designer jeans, trainers and polo shirts – Brash gang members. More followed – boys and girls, all clean and well dressed.

  Jason glanced back at the Bentley. It just sat there, its blacked out windows reflecting the still branches overhead. Alan Brash must be inside, watching him.

  Jason continued to walk towards the passage.

  It was only twenty steps away but the Skins were going to get there first, their loping strides covering the ground surprisingly quickly.

  Fifteen steps. The Brash gang were closing in too, picking up speed, their eyes flicking from him to the Skins and back again. No one said anything to break the silence as over fifty youths converged in the heat of the morning.

  The Skins slipped into place to block off the cool safety of the passage.

  A cold bead of sweat trickled down Jason’s back but he looked straight ahead at the arch of fluorescent flecked darkness and carried on walking. The Brash closed in on the right, their leather soled footfalls almost silent.

  ‘Going somewhere, wimp?’ Richard Baldwin, stepped out from the mess of Skins.

  Jason totally ignored him and tried to walk straight past but Baldwin shoved out a hand and pushed him in the chest. He was strong and Jason was forced a half-step backwards. Baldwin grinned and the blue spider web tattoo crinkled on his cheek.

  Silence pressed in on Jason. The two gangs had formed a rough semi- circle behind him – the Skins on his left, the Brash on his right. They’d left a gap between them through which he could still see Mr Brash’s Bentley.

  Baldwin pushed him backwards into the ring of excited faces. ‘You too scared to answer me, chicken?’

  No sense in running from this but if he took out Baldwin would the rest of the Skins mob him? And what would the Brash do – just stand and watch?

  ‘I said…’ Baldwin began, hitting his shoulder again. Jason twisted with the blow and it grazed past him. Baldwin over-balanced and stumbled forward.

  ‘Slippery little worm in’t ya?’ Baldwin sneered, recovering his balance and coming up close, chest out, chin up and hands out wide. ‘Come on then, worm, take a poke at me.’

  Baldwin shoved Jason with both hands. Jason let the blow land and stepped back a few paces – he needed the space between them if this wasn’t going to turn into a wrestling match. He checked to see if any of the other Skins were closing in but they just leered at him with eyes hungry for violence. The crowd was eerily quiet – where was the usual ‘fight’ chant and jeering?

  ‘We don’t like chicken-shit, stuck-up kids around here.’ Baldwin pushed him again and Jason faked a stumble to the right, circling around closer to the passage. It would give him half a chance at breaking through if the rest of the Skins joined in.

  ‘And here was I thinking we were getting on so well,’ Jason said, his voice calm and just loud enough for everyone to hear.

  Baldwin tried to push him again but Jason blocked with one hand and stepped further around to the side.

  Now he was ready.

  Suddenly a hand lashed around Jason’s throat from behind and yanked him back into the Brash gang.

  Jason grabbed the arm half strangling him but it felt like a steel bar locked into place.

  ‘Calm down,’ a voice whispered in his ear, ‘we’re on your side.’

  Jason relaxed slightly – there were too many of them surrounding him to fight now. The stranglehold lessened.

  A girl stepped passed him and pushed Baldwin back into his own kind.

  The Skins erupted in a storm of foul-mouthed protest and started forward but a Brash boy moved into the ring – tall, slim and tightly muscled under a blue blazer. He had floppy blonde hair framing a handsome face and the ruby eyes of a prefect’s badge glinted from his lapel.

  A huge Skin at the front held up a hand and his gang stopped dead. He must have been their leader – well over two metres tall, he was massively muscled, broken-nosed and with a scar running out of his cropped hair straight through a black skull tattooed on his right cheek.

  ‘Thank you, Grizz,’ said Floppy Hair. He stepped further into the ring. ‘Forgive the interruption but it would be such a shame to waste this opportunity don’t you think?’ His voice was light, confident and just a little too far back. He sounded like a younger version of Alan Brash.

  The girl who’d pushed Baldwin moved to stand just behind the speaker, pushing her lustrous red hair back over her shoulders. She twisted around to nod at whoever held Jason and the arm immediately slipped away from his neck. The ruby red eyes of another prefect’s badge sparkled at him before she turned back to face the Skins.

  Jason twisted around and a big, black haired youth held up his hands and whispered. ‘No hard feelings – just following orders.’

  ‘I shall be happy to make the arrangements, Grizz old boy,’ Floppy Hair said. ‘if that suits Callum, of course.’

  The mountain of tattooed muscle hesitated for a moment then grunted. With the show apparently over, Skins and Brash broke into chatter and started dispersing into small groups as if nothing had ever happened.

  Floppy Hair turned to Jason and held out his hand. ‘Quite a first day for you, young Jason. I’m Edward Braithwaite but everybody calls me Eddie.’

  Bemused, Jason shook hands.

  ‘And this ravishing young thing is Erin Brock,’ Eddie continued, ‘my second in command.’ The red head flashed Jason a smile.

  ‘Don’t worry – you’ll get your chance to teach the little baldy scumbag a lesson.’ Eddie said, flicking his head back at Baldwin who was disappearing into the trees surrounded by his mates. ‘I’ll catch you tomorrow to explain the arrangements.’

  Eddie slapped Jason on the shoulder then he and Erin began to stroll back towards the front of the school, immediately falling into quiet conversation

  And Jason was suddenly alone - his adrenaline still pumping from the almost-fight. What was going on? Why had the Brash stepped in right when he was going to floor Baldwin? It must have looked like they’d sent in a girl to save the wimpy new-boy.

  Chewing his lip in frustration, he turned to finally walk into the passage but stopped dead. His nightmare was complete - Louisa was watching from the shadows and standing f
ar too close to her was Darius.

  ‘Are you alright, Jason?’ Louisa asked, stepping into the light.

  ‘Why didn’t you floor the tosser?’ Darius asked, shaking his big head.

  Behind him, Jason heard the Bentley growl into life – Brash was driving away. No doubt he’d be thinking Baldwin had him running scared as well.

  Without a word, Jason strode into the gloomy passage. This had to be sorted out.

  Chapter 9

  Jason sat on the bus, staring through the diesel fumes as the shabby grey buildings of Drunken Abbot rolled passed.

  News of his near-fight with Richard Baldwin had flashed around the whole school like wildfire and half his form class had been chasing him for news.

  ‘Was Callum there?’

  ‘D’you think you could have taken him out?’

  ‘When are the prefects setting the fight?’

  Even Violet Gray had put her oar in. ‘It must have been horrible - surrounded by all those vicious idiots. What a horrible first day for you...’

  Baldwin hadn’t turned up for English that afternoon. Jason had seethed his way through two chapters of “Of Mice and Men”, ignoring the stares and whispers of his classmates. At the end of the lesson, there seemed to be Brash gang members and their prefects all over the corridors and in front of the school so nothing more than sneers came from the Skins as he walked between scattered groups of them on his way to the bus.

  Louisa and Mouse had been waiting for him on the back seat. He couldn’t meet their eyes – he didn’t want to see Louisa’s pity or Mouse’s disappointment at him not fighting back against Baldwin. If that Erin girl had just waited another couple of seconds before jumping in, he’d have floored Baldwin.

  Luckily, Mouse and Louisa didn’t seem to want to talk about the fight - not on a bus filled with curious eyes and ears. At least when the Skins had got on they’d done nothing more than stomp upstairs, raggedly humming the Death March in time to their thumping footsteps.

  Gradually, stop by stop, the bus spewed the Skins and Drunken Abbot kids back out onto to their filthy streets. The bus broke out of the last line of terraces into the open moorland of the valley floor and Jason started to breathe easier. Determined to clear his name, he drew in a breath to speak.