‘It’s no good tickling the nose of a warrior,’ she says. ‘He’ll just laugh in your face before bashing it in!’

  Knowing that my real training won’t begin until I manage to connect with the ball, I keep trying to hit the target. The sweat pours from me, the rich earth of the floor sticking to my back with every fall. Then, in my dogged determination, I overextend a kick and land in an awkward, painful heap. Exhausted by my efforts, I turn to my guru to plead for a break, but her dark-brown eyes, always ringed with a starlit gleam, are closed and she breathes in the slow, steady rhythm of deep sleep.

  It seems my lesson is over for the day. Limping quietly up to her, I reach out to take the rope from her grasp. But before I even lay a hand upon her, I feel the sharp thrust of her otta in my chest.

  ‘Ow!’ I cry, falling on to my backside on the packed earth. The attack was so swift and sudden that I barely saw it. But I certainly felt it; my whole chest is crushed with pain.

  Stirring, my guru opens her soulful eyes. ‘One who is an expert of otta cannot be touched, even in sleep,’ she says sagely.

  I rub the middle of my chest where the rounded tip of her stick struck me. The pain won’t fade. In fact, like an unchecked fire, it’s only growing worse. ‘What – did you – do – to me?’ I gasp.

  She rises to her feet with an ease that belies her age. ‘I hit you in a marma point,’ she explains. ‘The hridaya to be exact. It’s a potentially lethal blow.’

  ‘What?’ I’m beginning to struggle for breath.

  ‘Marma are vital energy points in the human body,’ she continues, lecturing me like she’s delivering a normal lesson. ‘While these points are used in Ayurvedic medicine to heal, the word “marma” literally means “a point that can kill”.’

  ‘Well, I think – I’m dying!’ I cry in agony.

  ‘Oh, Aarush, do stop your whining.’ My guru sighs. With the palm of her hand, she massages my chest, then using her thumb presses down hard on another marma point. The pain and pressure instantly ease.

  I stare at her in amazement. No wonder every man fears her. ‘Please, will you teach me the marma points?’

  ‘Maybe, when you prove your worth,’ she says. ‘But there are two rules I live by as a Kalari guru. The first is never to tell anyone everything you know.’

  ‘What’s the second?’ I ask, breathless.

  My guru responds with an arch, silent grin, then turns and walks out of the room.

  8

  ‘It must have been a dream,’ says Mei as we make our way back home from Prisha’s the following morning. The sun is out and the streets are bustling with Saturday shoppers, but I can’t shake last night’s vision of the kalari from my mind. The sunken hall’s distinctive smell still lingers in my nostrils and even my muscles seem to ache from the training.

  ‘How can you be so certain?’ I say, wearily shifting my overnight bag to my other shoulder.

  ‘Because you were a boy!’ replies Mei, laughing as if the answer is obvious.

  Crossing the road, we head down a quieter side street and into the leafy residential area of Clapham where I live. ‘Why should that make any difference?’ I ask.

  ‘In every Glimmer so far you’ve been a girl or a woman,’ Mei explains in a patient tone. ‘Isn’t it a bit odd to suddenly be a boy?’

  A silver-grey cat jumps up on to a nearby garden wall and demands my attention. I stop to give it a stroke. ‘But surely if I’ve had lots of past lives, there’s no reason why I couldn’t have been a boy at some point,’ I argue as the cat purrs loudly and rubs against my hand. ‘Doesn’t my incarnation as Aarush make it more likely that it was a Glimmer?’

  Mei shakes her head in dismay at my renewed fixation on Glimmers. ‘For what it’s worth, I believe Dr Larsson is right about these being figments of your rather vivid imagination. Just as he induced your circus vision, so Prisha’s party inspired your dream. The sandalwood incense, the Indian food, the clothing and music, Mr Sharma’s weapon collection … Your brain absorbed all these things during the course of the evening. Then at night your mind was processing that information, storing it as memories. That’s what dreaming is, as I understand: the events of –’

  As Mei is talking, the cat suddenly stiffens and hisses. Unsettled by its reaction, I glance over my shoulder, following the cat’s line of sight. But the tree-lined street is quiet. There are no other cats or dogs around, no people either, so I’m at a loss as to what has spooked it. Then I notice the tips of a pair of white trainers sticking out from behind one of the nearby trees. The cat hisses again and I too feel unnerved, the hairs on the back of my neck rising.

  I turn to Mei, but at that moment her mobile rings. ‘Hi, Dad,’ she says, answering the call. ‘What’s up?’ Her face drops. ‘Are you serious? When?’

  I watch as her expression grows ever more shocked. I snatch a look back down the street but can no longer see the white trainers. Either the person has gone or I was mistaken – perhaps there was no one there in the first place. The cat, however, remains alert and watchful at my side.

  ‘OK, I’ll come straight home,’ says Mei. She pockets her phone.

  ‘What’s happened?’ I ask.

  Mei gazes at me in angry disbelief. ‘Our house was broken into last night!’

  ‘What?’ I gasp. ‘Anyone hurt? Anything taken?’

  Mei shakes her head. ‘My parents have only just got back home from an overnight conference. My brother’s still at his mate’s house, thank goodness. Dad’s office is in a right mess, he says. It seems like whoever did it was searching for something in particular. Or otherwise plain stupid, because even though they broke into his wall safe they ignored the collection of Spanish gold doubloons he kept in there. Those coins are worth a fortune!’

  I raise an eyebrow in surprise. ‘Perhaps the burglar was disturbed,’ I suggest. ‘Still … I guess your dad must be pretty upset.’

  Mei nods slowly. ‘It gives me the creeps to think some stranger may have been in my bedroom,’ she murmurs, a shudder running through her.

  ‘It’s a good thing we were over at Prisha’s last night,’ I say quickly, giving the cat a departing stroke before taking Mei’s arm and leading her down the road. ‘I’ll ask my mum if she can give you a lift back.’ But, as we turn the corner to my street, I spot two police cars … and an ambulance – and they’re parked outside my house! Mei and I exchange frightened looks.

  ‘What the hell’s going on?’ she says.

  I don’t bother replying. We dash along the road up to a small cluster of onlookers who have gathered outside on the pavement. My heart racing, I push through them, and Mei and I duck under the police tape that is cordoning off my house. Before anyone can stop us, we sprint up the driveway and burst through the open front door.

  ‘Mum! Dad!’ I shout. But there’s no reply.

  Halfway down the hall I stop dead; my bag slumps to the floor with a thud. Ahead of me, through the half-open kitchen door, I see a pair of legs. My mother’s legs. The rest of her is hidden behind the door – and lying beside her I can see my father, his hand outstretched, as if trying to protect her. Then I notice the kitchen floor. I swear the tiles weren’t so dark red –

  ‘Oh my God –’ gasps Mei. I feel her hand tightening round mine as my whole world caves in on me. The hall floor buckles under my feet, my stomach lurches and my vision warps … A brief but vivid flash of two bodies (my parents yet somehow not my parents, since the people I suddenly see are both olive-skinned) sprawled across a Grecian-blue mosaic floor, their ivory-white togas stained red with blood … The next moment the nightmare vision has vanished.

  A police officer appears from the living room. ‘No, girls! Not in there,’ she says, swiftly ushering me and Mei into the adjacent dining room. She guides me over to a chair and sits me down before I fall. My legs are weak, my head heavy, my heart hollow. Mei is close beside me, trembling, her hand still clasping mine as if afraid to let go and lose me to my despair.

  The police officer kneels down in front of me. Her honey-brown eyes are gentle and kind. ‘I’m guessing you’re Genna,’ she says softly.

  Grief and shock coursing through me, I nod.

  She turns to Mei. ‘And you are?’

  ‘Mei – Genna’s best friend,’ she replies in a far-off voice.

  ‘Well, it’s good she has a friend with her,’ says the police officer, and she smiles mournfully. Then her gaze returns to me and she swallows hard. ‘This won’t be easy to hear, Genna, but there’s no easy way to tell you. It appears some-one broke into your house last night. There was a struggle and, I’m so sorry to tell you, your parents were both killed.’

  I sit numb and silent, the hard wooden dining chair digging into my back. Mei squeezes my hand even more and puts an arm round my shoulders.

  ‘W-was it a-another burglary?’ Mei asks, her voice hitching.

  The police officer gives Mei a puzzled look. ‘What do you mean, another?’

  As Mei tells her about the break-in at her house, I stare vacantly at the family photo of me, my mum and my dad on Brighton beach. It’s a gloriously sunny day, the sea is glistening and we’re all smiling, ice creams in our hands. The photo was only taken a month ago – I remember just moments later a seagull swooped down and stole Dad’s ice cream. How we’d all laughed, for the first time in a long while …

  Then the photo blurs.

  Tears are rolling freely down my cheeks and dripping on to my jeans, but I’m too choked with sorrow to make a sound. I hear a car pull up on the driveway, then the clunk of car doors opening and closing followed by the crunch of footsteps.

  ‘Anyone found the daughter yet?’ demands a sharp female voice from the porch entrance.

  ‘Yes, good news, ma’am,’ responds a gruff male voice in the hallway. ‘According to the family calendar, she was staying at a friend’s house last night: a Prisha Sharma. I’ve just come off the phone to Mr Sharma. He says Genna left there half an hour ago.’

  ‘OK. Inform me as soon as you make contact, officer.’

  ‘Yes, ma’am,’ the police officer replies. ‘We’ve also determined that the weapon used in the attack was some sort of knife. Judging by the victims’ wounds, its blade appears to be quite unusual …’

  As the policeman proceeds to deliver his report, the officer with us quickly gets to her feet. ‘Mei, will you look after Genna for me? I need to inform the detective inspector that you’re here.’

  ‘Sure,’ says Mei, her arm still round me.

  The policewoman goes out into the hallway, leaving the dining-room door ajar. Through the gap, I can spy the detective inspector in the hall mirror. Her charcoal-black hair is pulled into a tight bun, her tailored navy-blue suit is as crisp and as sharp as ever. There’s a small scar marking her forehead, the only visible sign of the car crash she was in when Phoenix liberated me from her custody. As DI Katherine Shaw listens attentively to the police officer’s report, she takes off her tinted glasses to clean the lenses, and in the process reveals what I was dreading. Her keen grey eyes have pooled once more into oily black holes.

  9

  The shock of seeing DI Shaw cuts through my grief like a knife and I leap to my feet. I suddenly know, beyond all doubt, that my therapist was wrong. ‘The Hunters are back!’ I gasp. ‘But how can they be? Tanas is dead!’

  Joining me as I hide behind the dining-room door, Mei lays a gentle hand on my shoulder. ‘Shh, calm down, Genna. What are you talking about? What Hunters?’

  ‘Can’t you see her eyes?’ I whisper, peeking nervously into the hallway. DI Shaw is still being updated by the first officer, while the policewoman stands behind them, impatiently waiting for him to finish.

  Mei glances at the detective inspector’s reflection in the mirror. ‘What about her eyes?’ she whispers back.

  ‘Can’t you see? They’re completely black!’ A familiar panic is rising in my chest. ‘She’s a Soul Hunter!’

  Mei frowns at me. ‘Genna, her eyes look normal to me,’ she replies in a slow, deliberate tone.

  ‘Yes, of course they do,’ I mutter, more to myself than to Mei. ‘The change must only be visible to those with Soul Sight.’

  This realization has suddenly hit me and it explains a great deal: how the Hunters can move through society undetected; how they can infiltrate the police and other key organizations; and how they can recognize and communicate with other Incarnates. I guess the same is true for the star-like blue gleam of Phoenix’s eyes and mine – invisible to everyone but people like us: Soul Protectors and First Ascendants and, worst of all, to Soul Hunters like DI Shaw.

  ‘I think I should get our police officer back,’ suggests Mei, reaching for the door handle.

  ‘No!’ I cry, grabbing hold of her arm to pull her away. ‘You have to trust me. I’m in grave danger. My very soul is at risk!’

  ‘Genna, I understand you’re deeply upset,’ she says as she extricates herself from my grip. ‘Your parents have just been killed in this attempted burglary –’

  ‘No, it wasn’t a burglary,’ I correct her. ‘My parents were murdered because the Soul Hunters were looking for me. And DI Shaw is one of them.’

  ‘OK, you’re seriously worrying me now,’ says Mei firmly. ‘You’re having a panic attack. You need to breathe deep and slow.’

  ‘No, I’m completely lucid,’ I reply. ‘Phoenix was speaking the truth. He always was. The Glimmers are real! Soul Hunters are real!’

  Eyeing me with concern, Mei backs away towards the door. ‘I’ll only be a second. Wait here.’

  ‘Mei, STOP!’ I beg. ‘Please trust me on this. I need your help if I’m going to survive.’

  ‘I am trying to help you,’ Mei replies patiently.

  ‘Then create a distraction while I escape.’

  ‘Escape?’ she exclaims, disbelief marking her face. ‘Why would you want to run from the police? They can protect you.’

  ‘Believe me, Mei, they can’t,’ I reply, peering over her shoulder into the hall mirror. The officer is stepping aside now to allow the policewoman to talk to DI Shaw. ‘There’s only one person who can protect me. Now, listen. I need to grab a few things and go. Just delay them. Please. That’s all I’m asking.’

  Mei hesitates, her hand on the door handle. ‘Why should I?’

  I look at her imploringly. ‘Because you’re my best friend. Because you’re the only person, aside from Phoenix, I can trust. And because you owe me for that time I covered for you when you were in trouble with the police for shoplifting.’

  Reluctantly Mei releases the door handle. ‘Fine,’ she mutters through clenched teeth. ‘But don’t make me regret this.’

  ‘I promise you, I won’t.’

  So, leaving a bewildered and troubled Mei in the dining room, I crouch low and slip out of the door. Thankfully, our L-shaped hallway means I can’t be seen from the front entrance as I scurry up the stairs to my bedroom. My suitcase and backpack are spread out on my bed, half-packed for our – for our family holiday that will now never be. The sharp pang of loss hits me again … Blinking back fresh bitter tears, I stuff a pair of spare jeans, a few tops, a jacket and some extra underwear into the backpack, the trauma of everything I’ve lost today spurring me on. Lastly, I pack my old fluffy bunny Coco for comfort and Phoenix’s amulet too for good luck. Then I dash into my parents’ room. Their bags are ready and waiting by the door, and all our travel documents are set out neatly on top of the chest of drawers. Both Mum’s purse and Dad’s wallet lie untouched – more proof if ever I needed it that this was no burglary. I grab my passport, the plane tickets, a currency envelope stuffed with US dollars and my mum’s credit card.

  Below me I can hear voices.

  ‘Where is she?’ DI Shaw is demanding.

  ‘In the downstairs toilet, I think,’ replies Mei. ‘She said she was feeling sick.’

  ‘Genna, are you OK in there?’ asks the female police officer, rapping on the toilet door.

  I make one more sweep of my parents’ room, shoulder my backpack, then head out on to the landing. From the top of the stairs, I can spy DI Shaw, the police officer and Mei standing downstairs.

  ‘Let me have a go,’ I hear Mei say, leaning close against the toilet door. ‘Genna … it’s me. I know you’re upset, but you do really need to come out. I’m worried about you. I understand how much of a shock all this is, especially after everything that’s happened this year, but I’m here for you, and the police can help you, so …’

  Playing for time, my best friend even tries the door handle and pretends it’s locked. Dear Mei, you really are my best friend. Thank you! The extra seconds she’s given me to escape may prove vital. Since I can’t leave the house via the stairs, I retreat to my bedroom. My sash window overlooks the back garden, which is clear, save for the cherry tree and the shed. But the drop down to the ground is a good five metres. The tree isn’t close enough to climb down … but could I jump to it?

  Now a fist is pounding on the downstairs toilet door. I glance over at my bookcase and my gold trophy for gymnastics. My agility may be impressive in a gymnasium, but to reach the tree and land safely I really need to be an acrobat – or trapeze artist …

  ‘Genna!’ barks DI Shaw’s voice from the hallway. ‘Come out now, or we’ll have to force this door.’

  Once more I must put total faith in my Soul Protector, Phoenix. If he’s right about skills transferring from past lives, then my Glimmer in the Russian circus means Yelena’s abilities have passed to me. But if on the other hand he’s wrong – well, I could easily break my neck.

  ‘This is your last warning, Genna,’ declares DI Shaw.

  A few seconds later, I hear a splintering of wood and the policewoman exclaim, ‘Oh! She isn’t in here, ma’am!’

  I’m out of options.

  I lift up the sash window. It squeals loudly. Now the thud of feet is thundering up the stairs … Clambering on to the windowsill, I leap for the tree. I fly through the air, arms outstretched, and imagine myself as a trapeze artist … reaching for Dmitry’s grip. With an assured grace, I grab hold of a branch, swing from the bough and somersault to land neatly on the lawn, arms spread wide as if performing for an audience. I can almost hear the echo of applause –