Chapter Eleven
When the Voice had first urged Amber to go to Belfast, the idea of living alone excited her. At fifteen years old, she'd never had the opportunity to stay anywhere on her own before. Even at home, her mother insisted on leaving her at her Nana's or with uncle Rory when she, her mother, had a night shift. So just the thought of Belfast had been so full of potential, and she figured that the experience would make her more mature. She imagined nights of staying up late, drinking coffee and watching documentaries while doing research on the bladers and generally feeling like a badass because she was saving the world - all in secret, of course, just like Batman.
Instead the cold reality revealed coffee to be a bitter substance that tasted nothing like the stuff from the cafés, documentaries were boring, and after her third meal of water and cereal — she'd run out of milk the day before — she was getting quite homesick. There was always an abundance of milk at home; her uncle had dairy cows, and even if the animals stopped giving milk, the local milk man dropped seven cartons up to the house each week for her aunt, who could never stomach the idea of unpasteurised milk. Honestly, Amber found the idea of a world without milk horrifying, which just backed up the theory that Ireland was going to hell in a beydish.
She stirred her lumpy cereal — even the liberal sprinkling of her father's artificial sweeteners (because the man didn't have sugar) hadn't helped. The apartment was silent but for the ticking of the clock on the mantelpiece, which chimed away the hours, and the buzz from the fridge. She'd debated putting on the TV but the concern that it would block out foreign sounds in the apartment put an end to that thought. It wasn't like her father's apartment was in a dangerous part of the city, on the contrary, it was probably positioned in the most secure section of Belfast, but she wasn't afraid of thieves, no her fears were much more sinister.
She shivered and rubbed her arms. Her eyes lifted to the hazy blue sky above the chaotic city and she yearned for the sweeping hills of green that created the valley of her hometown. Which she was Not going to think about because then she'd feel homesick, and that sucked because it made her think of her mum and just the idea of jumping on a train home was so tempting. She blew out a breath and shut those thoughts away. Maybe tonight, when another tournament battle took place, she would go down into the city and gather a few supplies. Less chance of running into trouble.
Okay, time to throw out the cereal. It wasn't like she was going to eat it and sitting in the kitchen stirring it could only wasted so much time. Easing her leg off the chair opposite her, she pushed to a standing position and grabbing the bowl, she hobbled to the sink. At least one good thing had come from her self-imposed imprisonment. The stack of dirty dishes was gone and the apartment was relatively clean. Her Nana would be so impressed - except she'd never know because if she contacted her Nana, her mother would find out and be pissed.
Fixing herself a hot mug of black tea, Amber settled at the table again and opened her dad's laptop, shoving her long, dark hair from her face. Maybe she could find a bit of good news, or at least something that mentioned the broken bench. It seemed suspicious that no one had even made a comment about that incident. Were the bladers really so indifferent to the destructive powers of their bitbeasts? Probably. She'd seen clips of battles on YouTube, though the images were often blurry because, while all battles were broadcasted live, none of those videos were available after the event, so she had to rely on videos that came from smuggled in cameras.
She'd also read some articles that talked about bloody beybattles, hospitalised bladers, rifts in the sky, and ones that called for the sport to be banned, that children were incapable of dealing with such intensity. Blogs, Tumblrs, the whole she-bang. The sport covered the Internet, and all of it seemed excited by the prospect that bitbeasts could damage stadiums and harm competitors, though the fact that those competitors were children did terrify people.
It also made some sense, Amber mused. If Bitbeasts, like other spirits, needed faith to be powerful, who better to believe in them than those who had the most powerful imagination, the most powerful intent to succeed. She bit her lip and began to tug that thought, unravelling the thread to follow it to its conclusion. Teens always felt confused and pushed down by society —
The buzz from the intercom startled her into knocking over her cup of tea. Hot liquid ran across the table and began to dribble to the floor while the cup rocked. Another buzz and her heart thudded hard in her chest. Amber scooted to her feet, freezing by the chair. Was it him? Had he found her? She crept to the door, even knowing that the person ringing was down stairs at the main door. Grabbing the baseball bat she'd slept with, she lifted the phone and held it to her ear, trying to listen over the frantic beat of her pulse.
"Hello?"
"Moshi mosh- Ah is this the, uh, residence of -"
"Give it here, stupid woman."
"Don't call me stupid!"
"Ow! Violent woman!"
Amber sagged against the door and smiled tremulously. "Hilary, Ian? What are you doing here?" How did they know where she lived?
"We came to… return your wallet."
"My wallet?" Oh crap, had she lost her wallet? Her shoulders sagged further. She really failed at living on her own.
"Yes. Can we come up?"
"Ah, yeah, push the door when you hear the click."
Setting the baseball back down, she rubbed her cheeks and grabbed a cloth to mop up the spilled tea. Dumping it in the sink when she was finished, she set the kettle to boil.
She heard their footsteps slapping against the laminated wooden floor in the hallway. Then they shuffled to a halt before there was an obnoxious pounding on her door. She limped to the open it, not caring that she was still in her striped pyjama bottoms and a grey tank top. At least she'd remembered to put on a bra under it, and she had sneakers on so she didn't feel completely undressed in front of them. She opened the door in time to see Hilary retract her first from Ian's head, while he winced and carefully massaged his skull under the thick cap of purple hair.
"She-hulk."
Before Hilary could spew a retort —there already seemed to be steam coming from her ears— Amber opened the door a little wider, her eyes flicking over the corridor to ensure it was empty. "Come in, please."
"Thank you for welcoming us into your home," Hilary said; stepping inside and bowing formally.
Welcoming was a strong word; it was more a case of self-preservation. She certainly didn't want to venture down to the front door if there was a chance that Eoin might appear. Since she was hardly a threat to him, she doubted he would.
Ian elbowed Hilary out of the way, surveying it as he lugged his tripod towards the middle of the living area. Amber frowned. Why was he setting up a camera? Was he planning the film the return of her wallet? She sagged. Of course, she had been so naive to think they'd come to be nice. They probably didn't even have her wallet. This was some kind of scheme they'd cooked up to get into her house. Effing brilliant.
"I'd offer you both something to drink but I don't actually have anything…" she trailed off as Ian and Hilary exchanged a pointed look. Yeah, the wallet was such a lie.
"No, we don't need refreshments. We came to give you your wallet," Hilary said, motioning to Ian.
He tsked under his breath and reached into the pocket of his anorak vest, before retracting and tossing the square black purse at Amber. She caught it and quickly checking it - not caring how rude she might seem - she nodded and placed it on the table. "Thanks. Um, do you want to sit or something?"
"No, no we won't stay long. Though, we have a few questions we'd like to ask you."
"Oh." Bracing herself on her chair, one foot crossed over the other at her ankle, Amber began to gnaw on her lower lip.
"Well…"
Ian grunted. "Stop pussyfooting."
Yes, Amber mused, it would be handier if they'd just ask her a question and then she could answer. It would be less painful than this.
Hilary sent Ian a disgruntled look; then raking a hand through her hair, she blew out a breath. "Okay, you owe us answers. You said things yesterday that were confusing and you keep acting suspicious. Who are you and what do you want?"
Oh, she started with easy questions! How bloody marvellous. Suddenly Amber needed a drink, instead, she stubbed a foot against the ground and tried to think of how to answer the questions in such a way as to inspire sympathy. After all, she needed allies in this battle right? An army to fight back should the being break through the Veil? Maybe Ian and Hilary weren't the best of allies, but surely they would be easier to convince considering neither of them had a bitbeast, nor were they bladers.
"Answer!"
She lifted her head to glare at Ian; then frowned. "Wait, are you actually recording this? I'm not going to answer anything if your whole scheme is to humiliate me."
"No," Ian mumbled. "Just… you have nice view." He swivelled the camera around and made a sound like he was impressed. "Nice apartment. Big for little girl."
"Says the midget."
"You two, please." Hilary sighed and dropped onto the couch, massaging the bridge of her nose. "Ian, turn off your camera. You can't record without her permission."
"But - this is my exclusive with Crazy girl." Ian all but pouted.
"My name is Amber, and I'm not crazy."
Hilary continued to stare Ian down until the midget finally took his camera from the tripod and capped it, all the while muttering under his breath about injustice and freedom of speech. Hilary showed no sign of caring about his righteous fury, instead she turned her attention to Amber. "Now tell us the truth."
"The truth?" What truth did she want, exactly? 'Hey Faeries are coming to steal back Ireland' hardly sounded like the most convincing statement ever.
Ian rolled his eyes and whipped out a small black device. "I take it you didn't see me being attacked then? Typical. I bet all you little bladers stick together all for the sake of your stupid-ass tournament. You don't care what the consequences are, do you? As long as one of you wins, you couldn't give a flying feck. Well, the joke's on you. You'll lose your bitbeasts, you'll lose everything and you'll have to deal with the guilt when the Fae arrive - I won't care. I'll be dead, but you guys will just have to live with your selfishness."
Horrified, Amber felt her mouth drop. "You recorded me? That's so uncool!"
Hilary flinched. "I'm sorry. It was Ian, he does things like this."
"Ian, you're such a dick!"
She stomped forward to grab the recorder, her insides seething and roiling with compressed violence but the midget danced out of the way with a sneer.
"Uh-uh, you need to answer a few questions, crazy girl."
"Stop calling me crazy."
"Ian, stop it. Amber, focus. Are you a threat to my team?"
"I give two flying fucks about your team, Hilary. I'm not a threat to them. They're a threat to me." She sucked in a breath and rubbed her temples; she was going to get a headache, she just knew it. "Look, I just want you all to leave my country. I don't care where you go, or what you do there: have the most epic tournament ever, I don't care, but you have to leave Ireland."
Hilary stood up, and suddenly Amber was aware that despite the fact that Hilary had long willowy limbs, she wasn't actually much taller than her. "Why? Is this something to do with Eoin? Is he going to try to harm the bitbeasts?"
"Eoin?" Amber shrugged. "I don't know. He's a psychopath but I don't know what his deal is."
"But he attacked you for going to Dickinson about him."
"Oh, so you did follow me from there." Scowling, Amber pulled herself up onto the table and settled her chin onto her fisted hand with a petulant scowl. "No I didn't talk to Dickinson about him. I don't know what the hell Eoin's problem is. Do you know he attacked me with his bitbeast? It sliced a bench in two. I didn't even know they could do that!"
Ian jerked a shoulder. "Manipulation of elements, any bitbeast can do that."
And there was that flippant attitude again. How could he be so blasé? Rocking her head back, Amber stared at the ceiling. "And that's why I want them out of here. I mean, do you not see how dangerous that is? They're not toys, they're weapons."
"No, they're friends, family."
Amber rolled her eyes, swinging her feet. Hilary was so naive. "Yeah, well your friends-slash-family are monsters that can destroy things and in the hands of children, don't you think that's a little dangerous? You wouldn't hand a loaded gun to a child, but you're okay giving them a beast can literally demolish something? Eoin attacked me."
"Why?" Ian demanded, folding his arms stubbornly.
"How do I know? He's probably got anger issues, and someone thought it was a good idea for him to get a psychotic spirit creature that slashes things with a scythe."
Hilary's head shook a little, her expression more confused than actually concerned. Her priorities were so skewed it wasn't even funny. Propping her fists on her hips, Hilary began to pace. "That's not how it is." She quickly looked at Ian. "A person must earn the respect of their bitbeast to be able to use it. Not all bitbeasts and bladers are that aggressive. Tyson would never hurt someone with his bitbeast. Neither would the others, or your team, would they Ian?"
Ian froze, a deer caught in headlights, and he jerked a shoulder. "Maybe? No? Beside point," he dismissed with a wave of his hand. He pointed at Amber. "You were in changing room. You were stealing!"
"No, I was not stealing." Stealing implied she would take the bitbeast chips and use them or sell them for her own gain, she never intended to do that; she was merely borrowing them to move them somewhere else. Or that had been in the plan. Unfortunately no one seemed to leave their bitchips down.
"Stop evading the questions and tell us what you're up to."
Blowing out a breath, Amber rubbed a hand over her face.
Perhaps you should start from the beginning. If you even remember when that was.
Oh shut up. The last thing she needed was helpful aides form the peanut gallery inside her head.
"Excuse me? You don't tell someone to shut up. That's rude."
Amber blinked. Oops. Did she say that out loud? "Sorry, I wasn't really… I didn't mean you."
"Told you she was crazy!" Ian crowed, pumping a fist triumphantly; then his expression became murderous. "And you stopped me from filming her!"
"Ian, stop jumping to conclusions."
Groaning, Amber dropped her face to her hands. Taking a deep breath, she whistled sharp and short. "Okay stop. Just stop, please. Hilary, I'm sorry, I'm not really a threat to your team but I am after their bit chips. I don't have any intention of using them for foul means, quite the opposite actually." She leapt off the table, flinched when her knee throbbed, and rubbed her arms, warding off the chill beginning to settle in them because she'd forgotten to turn on the heating. "Just don't say anything and hear me out. I'm not your enemy but I'm also not exactly a normal girl who came to cheer on the great bladers. In fact I have no clue about Beyblading—"
"Then why are you after our bitbeasts?" Ian demanded; fists tightly clenched.
"I told you, because I need to get them, you, all of you to leave Ireland. I don't care how it happens, but before the end of this week, you must be gone. It's nothing personal… against you. It's very personal for me. It's a matter of saving my part of the world."
"What do you mean?"
Sucking in a hitched breath, with her blood pumping hard in her ears, she flashed back to that moment in Dickinson's office, to his kind but condescending demeanour and braced herself for more of the same. "What do you know of the mythos of Ireland?"
Ian shrugged. "Mythos? No clue. Why does matter?"
"Ireland's mythology is rich and vast, ah it's the land of leprechauns and fairies and… magic."
Amber nodded. Hilary really was one of those exceptional students. She had to be like a sponge, just soaking up every bit of material she got. Amber's teachers would have loved her. "Exactly. That mythology is based on fact, on a long time ago when Faeries were real. They're still real and they're dangerous. Scary."
Ian's suspension of disbelief shattered, she could see it in the way his expression closed off and a vicious light gleamed in narrow crimson eyes. "Bull shit. You are crazy woman. Fairies, Tinkerbell; you expect us to believe little fairies come out hills and destroy country? Bull shit."
"Not bullshit, Ian," Amber snarled into his face. "Fact. Honest to God fact."
He shook his head. "You are crazy."
"Ian," Hilary snapped, clashing him around the ear. "Stop being rude. We said we'd hear her out; let us listen." She turned to Amber. "You said… fairies were to blame."
Hilary made an embarrassed face but she was clearly in Ian's camp. Fairies equaled insane.
"Right. Faeries don't exist but bitbeasts do? Do you understand how weird it is? These are powerful spirits," ones that could split a metal bench in half, "and they choose to possess a small plastic toy and take part in a kids' sport."
"It's not a kids' sport and they're not toys."
Amber groaned. It was like talking to a brick wall. "Look, how about I don't call them faeries. They're kinds of Irish spirits then, not bitbeasts, but spirits nonetheless. Sidhe. You've heard of the Bean Sidhe right, or Cait Side?"
"Banshees? Yes, I've heard of them. They're monsters, like vampires, werewolves? From horror movies."
"No, not really… Look, you accept that ghosts are spirits of people, right?" When they nodded, she rubbed the back of her neck hoping to ease the crick in it. That headache was getting worse, locking up the muscles supporting her head. "Well, Sidhe are spirits, ghosts of Irish creatures and they're — they're warriors from long, long ago during a time when Irish people worshipped them like Gods. Then Christianity came, Jesus and the bible, and people stopped believing in the Sidhe. They became obsolete and lost their powers so they retreated behind this veil that separates them from our world. And in that place, I guess it's Tir na nÓg only I'm not sure, they rest."
"Rest?"
"Well, they're spirits, immortal, they can't die and they're just not powerful enough to come through; but see, that's the problem now, you guys have brought something for them to leech off."
"Like batteries?"
'Yes,' Amber seized on the word with a wild gesture. "Exactly. Your bitbeasts are batteries for them."
"So you plan to get rid of them?"
With a sigh, Amber rolled her aching shoulders and spread her hands helplessly. "Yes, that's what has to happen."
"What's so wrong with those spirits coming through? Maybe they'll pick people and help them blade better, become bitbeasts. I mean Dragoon and the others weren't always bitbeasts. They're the four Guardian spirits of Japan."
Well… well.
"No."
"Why not?" Hilary asked.
"Because, there's something bigger behind the Veil and if it gets enough energy, when it comes through, everything I know will be gone."
Ian growled. "Girls. Know nothing. If spirit come through, then, like all bitbeasts, spirit will need a medium. That is why there is bitchip and beyblade. Without that, they are useless."
"Do you know that for certain?" Her voice sounded desperate which matched the feeling clogging her throat.
"Of course."
Closing her eyes, Amber tried to focus her thoughts. "I want to believe you. I want so much to be normal, and to go home, but I'm not normal. I never have been, and there must be a reason that I was told that Ireland is in danger. That means there's a chance you're wrong."
"Told? By who?" Hilary's voice was gentle with concern.
Ah. She flushed and set the mug on the coffee table. "Well, I was told by my grandmother."
"How does she –"
"And," Amber continued over Hilary's question, "I was told by the Voice."
"The voice?"
"It kind of lives in my head."
A silence descended as feverish heat rose over her neck and face. Yeah, that had gone great. Her throat filled and her chest constricted, making it hard to breath.
Ian snorted and rose to his feet. "I told you, I told you," he shouted at Hilary. "She is crazy." He swung to face Amber, finger quivering as he pointed at her. "You are crazy. It was interesting at start, but you are… Boris crazy. You should seek help and leave us alone."
"I'm serious. I have a voice in my head that has told me that teens with spirits will come to Ireland and the thing behind the Veil will rise and Ireland will be lost."
"Amber," Hilary tentatively spoke, but Amber held up a hand silencing her.
"I am not crazy." Her voice may have screeched a little and her flush grew darker, hotter. "My grandfather had the same voice, his father before him, and his great-aunt before that. My family has been cursed with this 'spirit' thing for a long time, and I know there's a reason for it." There had to be a reason for it.
"Why your family?"
"Because some idiot in my family was stupid enough to marry a druid? I don't know, okay? We're talking generations back, and one of them must have gotten on the wrong side of something, so here I am, trying to understand what's going on." And failing miserably. At least her mother swore she wasn't in need of psychological help, and her mother was a nurse, she'd never neglect such a thing.
Ian just shook his head and grabbed laptop bag. "I'm going back to the hotel." He looked at Hilary. "I'd advise you to do the same."
"Look, just hear me out."
"I did. And you're talking about Tinkerbell and spirits and show no evidence. I have other things to do. Go home kid and grow up. Pretend is only for children."
Amber flinched and forced her eyes to the ground, closing them to prevent the well of tears. She refused to cry over something so stupid.
Ian let himself out and left Hilary alone in an apartment with a girl she just didn't understand. Folding her hands in her lap, she struggled to work the questions in her mind. There were just so many and she was so confused. It seemed so ridiculous that she was half tempted to follow Ian, but unlike him, she'd experienced the surreal during her time with the Bladebreakers. She'd seen an invisible beast form before her eyes just because she'd believed in it; she had heard Rei's grief as he mourned his btibeast's loss. She shared Tyson's shock on learning Zeo was a cyborg; had worried when the boys faced Team Psykick; saw Kai almost break under Brooklyn's mind games; offered comfort at Tala's bedside, and prayed that Tyson would survive Brooklyn when the world had dissolved into chaos and buildings had crumbled. She knew there was weirdness in their world and that not everything was clear-cut. There was no more room for cynicism in her mind.
"Say I believed you," she began carefully, "is there evidence? Can you give me anything to trust in what you say?"
"I don't – I tried before to show people the spirit that talks to me but… well…" Amber steepled her fingers before her lips, then brightened. "Actually, I think I can but it requires you to come somewhere with me. I promise, I'm not going to hurt you or anything. In fact, you should text your friends and let them know we're going somewhere."
"Where?" Hilary watched as Amber surged to her feet.
"Ormeau Park! It's a half hour walk or so. There's a Faerie circle there that on its own, can be kind of potent, but with the bitbeasts here in Ireland, it should have amplified the energy enough for the 'thing' in my head to appear."
"It's inside you? Not just communicating but living?"
Amber shrugged. "I'm not sure how it works to be honest. I think I'm more like a medium or a portal. However it works, all I know is that it's tied to me but it is real so it can manifest. If you trust me, I'll try my best to prove that I'm correct and maybe, hearing it from the Voice, you'll begin to believe me."
Hilary stood. "Then I guess you should change out of your pyjama's."
Amber faltered in putting on her jacket and looked down at herself, blushing softly. "Oh, yeah. I should — would you mind waiting while I grab a quick shower?"
"Don't take long but I can spare the time."
As Amber grinned, Hilary sank back into her seat and considered what she was doing. She plucked out her phone to text her team about where she was going and with whom. She justified blindly following Amber as seeking out answers. She wouldn't feel comfortable in Ireland until she knew what was going on, and at least she would have information for Kai when he asked where she had been.
The whole thing seemed… overwhelmingly surreal and yet some of the pieces were finally beginning to make sense. She still didn't know how Eoin fit in, and she couldn't say for certain that Ian's theory about Amber being sick was wrong. Hilary just hoped that, with this trip, she got the answers she sought.
TBC