Darke Academy 3: Divided Souls Read online

  The Darke Academy series:

  1 Secret Lives

  2 Blood Ties

  3 Divided Souls

  Copyright © 2010 Hothouse Fiction Ltd

  Produced by Hothouse Fiction – www.hothousefiction.com

  With special thanks to Gillian Philip

  First published in Great Britain in 2010

  by Hodder Children’s Books

  This e-book edition published in 2010

  The author’s moral rights are hereby asserted

  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.

  A Catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library

  ISBN 9781444902617

  Hodder Children’s Books

  a division of Hachette Children’s Books

  338 Euston Road, London NW1 3BH

  An Hachette UK company

  www.hachette.co.uk

  PROLOGUE

  This was no chore.

  Yusuf Ahmed smiled down at the girl who sat on the velvet couch, far more in his hungry eyes than the prosaic lust of a boy for a girl. Touching her jaw with a finger, he drew a gentle line to her chin: tantalising himself and her, feeling the hunger grow and letting it.

  ‘Another raki?’ He proffered the carafe.

  ‘I think I’ve had enough.’ Her voice was teasing.

  He gave a soft laugh. Yes, he thought. Yes, I think you probably have.

  Yusuf took a small step away from her, enjoying the masochistic kick of prolonging the wait. He was hungry, but not so hungry he would rush it.

  Raising his eyes to the open window and the balmy night, he let himself soak up the beauty of it: the moon on the Bosphorus; the lights of a cruise ship strung like a glittering diamond necklace. High and hazy in the warm evening, the dome and minarets of the Blue Mosque gleamed like chalcedony.

  It reminded him vaguely of Sacre Coeur, of last autumn term in Paris, when everything had changed. When things had begun, for the first time in so very long, to go awry for the Few. When that scruffy waif of a scholarship girl, Cassie Bell, had turned up at the Academy and been shockingly chosen by Estelle Azzedine, then tricked into becoming the new host the old woman needed for her powerful spirit.

  He wished now that he’d never got involved … though he still remembered with some relish the frisson of excitement at the joining ceremony, the sense of entitlement and arrogance and power. He vividly recalled the Bell girl’s fury as they held her down at Estelle’s mercy, and he recalled too the unexpected pity – and fear – he had felt in himself. Because it had gone wrong so fast. The joining ritual interrupted; part of Estelle’s spirit joined with Cassie, part of it shut out in the void; and the Few left as stunned as if a bomb had gone off in their midst.

  Yusuf shook his head. A new term had now begun, and the girl Cassie seemed to be settling into being one of the Few. He was actually glad. They were all glad. Or most of them were … So who knew what brighter turn things might take for the Few? Including himself.

  Closing his eyes, he inhaled warm air scented with night flowers, sea breeze, petrol fumes and charcoal smoke. Gods, he was going to love it here. This was his final term at the Academy, and he felt a keen sense of regret mingled with the anticipation. His future glowed before him with wealth, success and influence: how could it be otherwise? But still, he’d miss the comradeship, the secrets, the power of being one of the Few at the Academy. It had been fun.

  A light hand touched his arm. Yusuf turned to the girl, suddenly aching with the beauty of the night and with hungry longing.

  She blinked. Her eyes were already a little unfocused and distant, her smile trembling on her lips as if she’d half forgotten it was there.

  Good …

  He set down his own glass and took her face between his hands. She was lovely, with her golden heart-shaped face and her huge dark eyes. Her lips parted and she made a small sound: it might have been desire or bewilderment, but he no longer cared. She’d drunk what he’d offered her. She wouldn’t remember.

  For one moment longer, he hesitated. Feeding like this was forbidden, because it was too dangerous. But for that very reason the thrill made it irresistible. And Yusuf was nothing if not experienced. He was strong, he was skilled.

  And damn, he was hungry.

  Gripping her face, he brought her lips fiercely against his own. He felt the momentary simple pleasure of human contact. Then, inside his chest, the spirit pulsed and energy gushed into his veins. His eyes widened, reddening.

  As the girl made a small moan of protest, he forced himself back under control. He wouldn’t hurt her: that wasn’t how he got his kicks. Relaxing his hold, he intensified the kiss, feeling life-energy thrill to his nerve-endings. Oh, this was feeding, this was satisfaction, this was bliss.

  His senses sharpened, smell and taste suddenly acute. He could hear the thrum and beat of the city, the throb of the cruise ship’s engines. He could hear a soft footstep. And then a whisper said his name.

  Yusuf Ahmeeeed …

  Had he misheard? Releasing the girl, he went still, listening intently.

  He’d chosen his place well: this secluded room with its romantic arches and nooks, above the restaurant in Old Istanbul. He’d paid the owner extremely well because he’d made it perfectly clear he did not want to be disturbed.

  How did they know his name? Was it someone who knew him from the Academy …?

  He shivered at the thought. That was trouble he didn’t want, not right at the end of his school career. Unauthorised feeding, in a forbidden manner? It wasn’t beyond possibility that he could be kicked out, like Katerina Svensson after the business with the Bell girl. Sir Alric took his rules very, very seriously …

  Silent, every sense alert, he turned towards the darkness beyond the window arch. He stepped closer, then became preternaturally still as his eyes searched the night. Below him was a courtyard and the balcony extended round three sides of it, draped with shadows.

  There. Against a cracked tile wall, one shadow darted past quickly.

  Someone was spying on him. One who knew his name. Taunting him: a sixth former, one of the most powerful Few! The spirit inside him kindled, but this time with rage. How dare they!

  He’d satisfied his hunger, and now the romantic moment was lost too: one more reason to turn his fury on the intruder. He touched the girl’s face. Gradually, gently, she came back to herself, eyes focusing, mouth curving into a more determined smile. She trailed a hand down his chest seductively, her fingers hooking on his gold chain and rolling its shark tooth pendant between her fingertips.

  ‘Aren’t you going to kiss me, then?’

  If only you knew, he thought dryly.

  ‘Sorry, habibi. I’ve had a text, it’s an emergency. You have to go.’

  Her sulky pout was delicious to behold. He laughed. ‘I’ll see you tomorrow night. I’ll make it up to you, yes?’

  ‘Oh, yes. You certainly will.’ She winked, blew him a tantalising kiss and was gone.

  Yusuf gave one last yearning sigh, but his muscles were already tensing for a chase. Light and swift, he vaulted through the arch and out on to the rickety balcon
y. The dark figure had had plenty of time to make an escape, but only when he dropped lightly down to the courtyard did Yusuf see it break into a run. Foolish, he thought.

  The figure managed to keep several steps ahead of him as they chased through the alleys of Sultanahmet; its footsteps were almost as deft and light as Yusuf’s own. It was growing dark and lonely as they travelled through the streets, the sounds of the city muffled by distance, as if he had pursued the shadow into another time zone. No one around.

  Slowing, he realised with surprise that the figure was heading up the steps of an outbuilding beside the Hagia Sophia. Was it a mausoleum? Still, Yusuf felt no fear. He approached the entrance and realised the crypt was empty of people, closed for renovation. But as he entered, despite his expectations the place was not dark. Above him a domed Byzantine ceiling gleamed in the light of hundreds of candles.

  Candles …?

  He stopped, ears pricked. Every inlaid door leading off the room was open.

  Yusuf was very alert now. Beyond the vast atrium, the place was a maze of arches and passageways, and whoever the prowler was, he was hiding. And he was very good at it …

  Yusuf felt himself thrill at this stealthy hunt. Not a wasted evening, really. An opponent was almost as much of a kick as a lover. He was going to teach this upstart a lesson.

  Ha! Movement, sharp, at the corner of his eye. There, beyond that arch with its chipped and faded gilding. Yusuf moved, swift and silent as a cat.

  The anteroom was small, with fretwork cloisters and half-destroyed blue mosaics, and the glow of candlelight didn’t penetrate the shadows beyond the pillars. There was no exit: it was a trap. Yusuf halted, smiling wryly. Time to turn the tables and flush him out, this insolent stalker.

  ‘Show yourself.’ His voice, clear and commanding, echoed through archways.

  In response there was only silence. He turned a slow half-circle, eyeing every corner, every shadow.

  ‘There’s nowhere to go. Face it.’

  Still nothing. The flickering golden air was heavy with the stillness.

  ‘Who the hell are you? Show yourself now.’

  A movement, a sound behind him. It might only have been a footfall, but it was close. Too close.

  He spun on his heel, tensed to strike, furious at the audacity. The glint of a smile met him, and another, more sinister glint.

  ‘You! What the hell—’

  Yusuf staggered back, flinging up his hands in horror. He didn’t even have time to scream. Couldn’t run. Couldn’t shut his terrified eyes. He only felt, for the first and last time, a crushing and paralysing terror as the figure sprang for him.

  Then every candle in the building went out and Yusuf’s world turned to absolute blackness.

  CHAPTER ONE

  Three weeks earlier

  ‘I miss him.’

  Cassie Bell remained quiet. Her friend looked over at her again.

  ‘Jake. I miss him.’

  ‘I know, Isabella,’ Cassie replied. How could she forget …?

  Seared by guilt, Cassie kept her eyes studiously fixed on the blue water and the bright morning over Istanbul. She had no right to get impatient with her lovelorn roommate. It was partly her fault, after all, that Isabella Caruso’s beloved Jake wasn’t coming back to school this term.

  She wished Isabella could be happier, that was all. It wasn’t just that she hated to see her friend so subdued; she wanted to stop feeling so bad about it herself. There was a whole new term ahead, a whole new city to discover. And a whole new Cassie, if she could keep her focus and reboot her school life.

  ‘Beautiful, isn’t it?’ She nudged the Argentinian girl and smiled, then nodded at the view.

  With a visible effort, Isabella pulled herself together and focused on the blue Bosphorus and the city beyond the yacht’s bow rail, all hazy domes and minarets. A slow smile curved her lips as if she couldn’t help herself.

  ‘Yes, you’re right. It’s stunning.’

  Cassie had never seen a skyline quite like it – though that was hardly surprising, since she’d only begun to be introduced to the exotic cities of the world less than a year ago. Until then, her life had alternated between unsuccessful foster homes and Cranlake Crescent care home. Thank God that was all over.

  Another shot of guilt. Cassie gulped and tightened her fingers on the rail. Cranlake Crescent wasn’t exactly the Darke Academy, but it had been home for a very long time, and it hadn’t all been bad. There had been her mates, and the younger kids who looked up to her – and, of course, there had been Patrick Malone. Her friend, her mentor, her key worker. Kind, supportive Patrick.

  Patrick, who betrayed her by sending her to the Darke Academy without bothering to mention its terrible secret …

  She shook herself. Going over and over that shocking discovery from last term didn’t help – finding out that Patrick had known about the dark spirits of the Academy, known that they inhabited some students and fed on others. He had known the danger he was sending her into. But still he’d sent her.

  It was hard to forgive him but, despite all that had happened, over the holidays Cassie had been willing herself to do just that. He was her link to the past, the closest thing to family she’d ever known. She missed him, damn it. The problem was, she didn’t know where to start. She’d cut him off dead last term, telling him that she never wanted to see him again. That was why she hadn’t been able to return to Cranlake Crescent for the Easter holidays: she hadn’t known if she could face seeing Patrick. So when Isabella had extended her holiday invitation, Cassie had nearly bitten her hand off.

  Bitten the hand that fed her …

  No. She’d jumped at the chance. That was a better way of putting it. And sailing the Mediterranean on board Isabella’s father’s luxury yacht, from one exotic ancient port to another, was certainly no penance. Still, seeing Isabella with her family, so close and loving, had pierced her in a vulnerable spot. She needed to reconcile with what passed for her own family, she realised. She needed Patrick.

  Cassie tugged her phone from her pocket. Biting her lip, she scrolled down to his name. Go on, she thought. No time like the present. Just a quick text. Nothing too effusive …

  Taking a deep breath, she thumbed a few buttons.

  Hey. Howz it going?

  She pressed send before she could think twice, then shoved the phone back in her pocket. After what felt like for ever, but was probably only about seven or eight minutes, it vibrated and bleeped. Nervously, she checked the reply.

  From: Patrick Malone

  Cassie. So happy to hear from u. Are you ok? We all miss u.

  Cassie smiled sadly. She could tell he was still a little wary, and she wasn’t surprised. She hadn’t exactly given him much reason to hope she’d be in touch again any time soon. She quickly ran her fingers over the buttons.

  I miss you guys too. Sorry I’ve been out of touch.

  Another brief pause, then her phone vibrated again.

  I understand. Cassie, cld I come 2 see u? No pressure, but I have a few days off due. Can I come out there?

  She couldn’t help her grin as she texted back.

  Yes! I’d like that. Email me with details. X

  God, it would be good to make up …

  Cassie’s grin was still in place as she glanced up towards the sun deck where Isabella’s mother was already sunbathing, engrossed in a paperback. Although they weren’t her family, the Carusos were the kindest, most generous people she could have hoped to meet. Well, they would be: Isabella must have got her nature from somewhere. Despite the stealth that was necessary so she could feed on Isabella – and she felt terrible about deceiving her friend’s parents – Cassie had felt at home from day one, and she was going to miss them. She was going to miss the sea, and the long idle days, and the Mistral Dancer itself.

  But still. Istanbul!

  She didn’t know where to look as she gazed towards the land looming towards them – at the fine villas and mosques and the little vil
lages on the Asian shore, or at the magnificent domes and minarets against the blue European sky on the other side. She was almost tempted simply to dive off the boat and swim ashore, so eager was she to investigate the ancient city. And she could do it. She wasn’t about to drown, not with the power of the spirit inside her, not now that she’d finally settled into a pattern of regular feedings over the holidays.

  Thanks to Isabella, Cassie’s spirit hadn’t gone hungry. She had stopped trying to deny Estelle’s needs, in contrast with her denial at the start of the previous term. Well, all except Estelle’s biggest request – to allow the divided parts of her spirit to reunite inside Cassie, as they had done momentarily during that horrible night last term …

  Cassie shook the memory free from her mind. She wasn’t going to think about all that now. Things had finally settled down – even Estelle seemed to have accepted Cassie’s adamant refusal to let her be ‘whole’. For now at least, she seemed content with the way things were. With a surreptitious glance at Isabella, Cassie felt a surge of gratitude and affection. Where would she be without Isabella’s generous offer, of her own free and spontaneous will, to be Cassie’s life-source? It didn’t bear thinking about.

  And yet here was Isabella looking so miserable, lost without her Jake. Their passionate, fleeting romance had ended with Isabella’s agreement to allow Cassie to feed on her against her boyfriend’s understandably adamant wishes. How had the three friends ended up like this? Cassie thought she might burst into tears herself if she didn’t lighten the mood. She exhaled deeply.

  ‘So … Do you think the shopping’s any good?’ she said, smiling at her friend.

  Isabella shook herself, pushing her windblown hair out of her face, the edges of her mouth turning up ever so slightly. ‘Well, I have been thinking about it a little, I must admit. We could get the Grand Bazaar out of the way early, yes? Because we must be touristy for a little while.’ Her smile broadened; she was making an effort, Cassie realised with a surge of affection. ‘And then – the boutiques! The galleries! The wonderful designers!’