Penguin Books Australia

1

The Riot

A storm was brewing over the city of Artemisia. All around the streets, people hurried about their business, looking anxiously upwards at the darkening sky. Lightning glimmered and was answered in the distance by rumbles of thunder. Small wisps of cloud broke away from the main storm front and sped eastward over the suburbs like drifts of smoke.

At the posh end of town, the scudding clouds reflected in the mirror-glass windows of the Artemisia Hotel. A deep growl of approaching engines sounded in the narrow laneway at the back of the building and a huge black bus swung off the street into the driveway behind the hotel. The bus had heavily tinted windows and its name, Mother, was clearly visible in gothic letters above the windscreen. Each chrome hub cap was stamped with the silhouette of a bat, and above the purple bat wings that decorated the vehicle's sides, the following words were painted:

TRACY T
THE VAMPIRE GIRLS
GLOBAL DESTRUCTION TOUR

The bus crawled down the driveway at the side of the hotel and pulled into a car park signposted SPECIAL GUESTS. There was a hiss of air brakes and the engine rumbled and died. For a moment the bus sat brooding in its purple magnificence, then the front door folded open and five Vampire Girls, all dressed in tight black clothes, jumped out in order of size. They were followed by a make-up artist, a hairdresser, two security guards, and a publicist with bleached hair and a huge handbag. Finally, after a short delay, there was a sound of heels clunking heavily on the steps. The entourage edged backwards and Tracy T, the reigning queen of the Artemisian charts, emerged into the afternoon light.

She wore six-inch platform shoes with steel spikes on the toes. Her face was covered in dead white make-up, and small fangs showed over the corners of her blackened lips. Tracy T stood swaying slightly on the spot, surveying the deserted car park from behind her sunglasses. Then something happened that had never happened before.

In broad daylight, Tracy T removed her glasses.

Her eyes were small and surprisingly blue. She blinked and looked around as if she could not quite believe what she was seeing. In a low voice, Tracy T spoke.

'Where are my fans?'

No one wanted to answer her. The Vampire Girls shuffled their feet and the publicist went whiter than her own hair. The sound of distant applause broke out at the front of the building. Tracy T swung towards it like the needle on a compass and everyone else relaxed.

'Miss T!' A man came hurrying towards them out of the hotel. 'Welcome to the Artemisia. I am Dan Sullivan, this afternoon's duty manager. You've arrived a little early. Perhaps you would like to wait inside –'

Tracy T spoke indistinctly through her fangs. 'My fans. I need my fans.'

Dan Sullivan gave an apologetic cough. 'I'm afraid those people at the front are there for somebody else. I'm sure your own fans will be here shortly. Miss T, I'm sorry, but your usual suite is unavailable today. There was a permanent reservation that dated back several years before yours, and the guests from the original booking arrived at the hotel about an hour ago. I hope you don't mind, but we've put you in the Presidential Suite instead –'

'What?' Tracy T's fangs almost fell from her mouth. Her face went red and she began to choke and cough. The entire entourage ran over and began banging her on the back. Tracy T snarled with fury and threw them off. Another cheer went up from the crowd at the front of the building and this time, some instinct she could not have explained made her turn towards the hotel. Tracy's eyes slid upwards over the mirror-glass windows. For the first time, she saw the familiar monogrammed banners, taken hastily out of hotel storage and hung from the roof, and recognised, with incredulous fury, the battered blue and silver helicopter on the rooftop helipad. Dan Sullivan's gaze followed hers, and he nodded.

'Yes,' he said. 'It's them. The Minivers are back.'

***

The Minivers were back. Back from exile, back at the centre of attention, and back at the Artemisia Hotel where, only weeks before, their adventures had begun. When Rosamund and Emily Miniver had landed their helicopter, Emily-Rose, on the hotel roof, neither of them had quite known what to expect. It had been a huge gamble for them even to show their faces in public. Once they had been the most famous girls in all of Artemisia.

Then, overnight, the Minivers' world had turned upside down and they had gone from being adored celebrities to almost-outlaws.

Madame, the daughter of Artemisia's dying ruler, Papa King, had forced Emily and Rosamund from their home and tried to kill them. She was jealous because they were Papa King's foster children, and afraid he had made Rosamund heir to his throne. When Madame's attempts to find the Minivers had failed, she had mounted a campaign to destroy their reputations, and for a short while, everybody had hated them. But slowly, the tide of public opinion was turning back in the Minivers' favour. Rosamund had risked her life to tell the truth, making a daring radio broadcast to the city; and on her orders, Lindsey Smith, President of the old Minivers Fan Club, had started contacting as many loyal fans as she could find. Now Emily and Rosamund were getting ready to face their greatest challenge: the fight for the throne of Artemisia itself.

The Artemisia Hotel was large enough to give them a secure base. It had its own security team, space for the gathering army of fans, and a helipad for a quick getaway if necessary. The Minivers had always been good customers there and had friends amongst the staff. Sure enough, as soon as they landed, Rosamund and Emily were given a warm welcome by the hotel management. Their miniature belongings were brought out of storage and their old suite quickly made ready. When Ron led Rosamund and Emily out onto the balcony, hordes of people – the last of their loyal fans – were already eagerly awaiting their appearance.

The girls stood on a table so that everyone could see it was really them and waved like princesses at the chanting crowds below.

'I wish Gibraltar could be with us. 'The words were blurted out before Emily could stop them. Gibraltar, the friend who had guided and advised them since they had gone on the run, had only recently been killed, and even thinking about facing the future without him made her stomach turn over. Rosamund tensed slightly at the mention of Gibraltar's name, but she had only once before lost her self-control in public. There were tears on her cheeks, but the smile did not leave her face.

'So do I,' she said in a muffled voice. 'Oh, so do I.'

Emily tightened her arm around her sister's waist. 'Gibraltar would want us to go on,' she said firmly, and Rosamund nodded. She had been there when Madame's ally, Titus, had hurled Gibraltar to his death in the basements of the City Archives. Emily knew that in some way Rosamund blamed herself for what had happened.

The fact made her more determined than ever that when Papa King finally died, Rosamund, and not Madame, should succeed him as queen.

The Minivers waved until their arms ached in their sockets and the smiles on their faces began to hurt. The crowd continued to grow as passers-by dropped in to see what was happening and people overflowed onto the footpath. It looked like a lot of onlookers but both Rosamund and Emily knew that compared to the thousands of fans they had once called their own, this crowd was nothing. It was a just a couple of hundred diehard supporters who had come out to cheer them on, and a scattering of others who had drifted in out of curiosity. How those people reacted next would be critical to the success of their plans.

'Speak to them, Rose,' said Emily. 'Tell them that we're back for good and that we need our fans to stand by us.'

'Shouldn't we wait until there are more?'

'We can't wait. There's a storm coming.' Emily gestured towards the darkening sky. 'If it rains, we might not get the chance.'

Rosamund looked at the edges of the crowd, where there were signs of unrest among the new arrivals. Many of them were too far away to see properly, and they were looking anxiously up at the sky. Emily was right: she could not put her speech off any longer. Rosamund reached for the microphone Ron held out to her and turned it on.

'Good afternoon, everybody!' she cried, in her best stage voice. 'As you can see, it's really us!'

She lifted her fists in triumph. Standing beside her, Emily started to clap, and the chanting below turned instantly to cheers and loud applause. Rosamund beamed and returned to the microphone. But as she opened her mouth, there was a hum in the speakers on the terrace below them, and she was abruptly interrupted by a burst of feedback. Emily clapped her hands over her ears. Rosamund winced, waited for it to fade, then tried again.

'Welcome to the Artemisia Hotel and the official return of the Minivers. We would like to tell you all –'

This time, the microphone went dead. All amplification ceased, and Rosamund found herself mouthing her speech into the air. She stopped and looked helplessly at Ron, but though he was checking the cables, the sound did not return. Murmurs of surprise and discontentment rippled around the crowd, and a fan with a particularly loud voice called out from the midst of the crowd.

'Come on, Rose. Sing us a song!'

'Sing . . . sing . . . sing . . .' The word quickly became a chant. Rosamund smiled and shook her lovely head, but the crowd was becoming restless, and something was happening near the hotel entrance. A few boos broke out and there was a sudden violent scuffle at the front. Rosamund leaned forward as far as she dared and tried to see what was going on.

Ron thrust her back. 'Get out of the way!'

'There are people fighting,' Rosamund reported. 'They're not Minivers fans. They're wearing black shirts with a sort of purple bat on them. I think they've ripped the cords out of the loudspeakers!'

'That sounds like the Vampire Girls.' Emily dredged up a memory from a pop show on which they had performed alongside Tracy T's band. 'You remember: the lead singer used to dress up in that silly bat cape and wear fangs.'

'But what's she doing here?' Rosamund tried to look over the railing again, but all she could see were tightly packed heads. More fighting had broken out and there were cries of 'Police!' and 'Help!'

'I'll go downstairs and find out what's happening.' Emily jumped down off the table impulsively. Ron made a grab to stop her, but it was too late. A cry went up from the crowd and, as the shouts turned to screams, Emily realised her mistake. The moment she had disappeared from view, the crowd surged forward, crushing everyone at the front.

'Get back!' shouted Ron. 'Let them see you!' He thrust Emily back onto the table, but in the few seconds it had taken her to reappear, the crowd had run out of control. There were loud screams from the fans being trampled and then two buses full of people wearing Vampire Girls T-shirts pulled up in the street outside the hotel. As they poured into the midst of the Minivers fans, the scuffles turned quickly to vicious fights. Someone started hammering loudly on the door of the Minivers' suite and a woman's voice shouted abuse.

'Get out of my suite, you little – 'The voice was cut off by the sound of brawling in the corridor as security guards dragged Tracy T away. Down below, Emily and Rosamund saw people being swallowed by the crowd and dragged across the ground. Suddenly, a full drink can whizzed over Emily's head. It hit the concrete wall behind her and exploded violently in a shower of froth.

'Get inside!' shouted Ron. He dragged Rosamund off the table and carried her, kicking and protesting, into the suite. Emily stood a moment longer, watching in horror as missiles and rubbish started flying around her head. All her life she had been surrounded by crowds, but only once before had she seen a crowd behave like this: on the hellish morning when she had first gone on the run.

Ron's hand closed on Emily's arm and she heard him shouting over the din. Then something small and cold hit her face and she saw raindrops darkening the balcony rail in front of her. Lightning glimmered and there was an answering crack of thunder. All at once the storm burst and it began to pour.

The crowd broke and ran. Drenched and sodden people scattered in every direction, leaving behind them a litter of discarded shoes, handbags and umbrellas. Soon all that was left were about thirty Vampire Girls fans, dancing crazily about on the hotel lawn and waving the cables they had ripped from the loudspeakers in triumph. Emily and Rosamund's moment of victory had been an illusion. The Minivers had returned, but it seemed they were no better off than they had been before.