‘I know I’m not stable,’ he said, glancing at her. ‘I’m not so far gone that I don’t know that. I know I can’t keep going to the woods. I’m hoping they’ll put me back on the antipsychotics. The antidepressants just aren’t enough. They don’t touch it. The feelings.’
Ash was speaking more quickly, now, and Lydia could see he was getting agitated.
‘I can’t stop thinking about them. I can’t stop missing them. I just feel like I’ve been hollowed out, you know?’
‘I know,’ Lydia said, steering him across the main road. ‘It’ll get better, you’ve got to give it time.’
They took the cut-through road, Medlar Street, and walked under the railway and past an unwelcoming carpark with rolls of barbed wire. There was a cold wind, reminding Lydia that winter hadn’t entirely given way to spring, and she zipped up her jacket. At that moment, Ash stopped speaking and stood stock still. He let out a strangled noise and fell to the ground. The colour fled from his cheeks, leaving him cadaverous and blue-lipped. His eyes were wide open and terrified. He seemed conscious but he clearly wasn’t breathing. Kneeling on the cold pavement, Lydia hoisted his upper half onto her lap, cradling his head and calling his name. ‘Breathe, Ash,’ she said. ‘Take a breath.’
She could feel Pearl magic pouring off him and looked around automatically. They were alone and Ash still hadn’t taken a breath. How long could you go without oxygen before brain damage set in? First aid training told her to lie him down, tilt his chin back and breathe air into his lungs. Crow training told her that she had to fight the Pearl mojo or no amount of CPR was going to help. ‘Ash, you’re okay, they can’t hurt you. Breathe, Ash.’ She kept saying his name, trying to calm his panic. His eyes rolled back, so all she could see was the whites and then they closed.
Lydia leaned down and whispered into his ear. ‘Leave him alone.’
She could hear trees rustling, wind blowing through branches and leaves even though there were none nearby. It sounded like laughter. ‘Stop it,’ she said out loud.
She could see the trees, now. They were twisted and strange-looking, laden with brown-cased fruit and the sweet smell of rot filled her nostrils, obliterating the clean scent of pearls. Lydia closed her eyes and reached out in the darkness. She could hear wings beating, but they were faint and far away. The trees were loud and creaking. Roots were running underneath the earth, below the paving slabs and concrete and the rubble of old buildings. Ancient roots which still connected, roots which still remembered.
Her coin was between her fingers and, following her instincts and with her eyes tightly shut, she felt for Ash’s face and forced his mouth open, putting the coin on his tongue. Immediately his head jerked and he took an enormous breath, like a man surfacing from deep water. Lydia’s eyes flew open. ‘Don’t swallow it,’ she said, hoping it wasn’t too late. Ash’s eyelids fluttered and then closed again. He dragged in heaving breaths and on one of the exhales her coin dropped out into her waiting palm.
With her eyes open, Lydia could see the trees, again. They were translucent and ghostly, overlaid on the pavement and buildings and parked cars of the side street and they fanned the flames of panic which were licking at the edges of her mind, clouding her thoughts and making her heart race. She was surrounded by trees. She hadn’t walked into the dark forest, but the Pearls had sent the forest to her. She focused on Ash’s face, trying to block out the sound of wood creaking and leaves moving. ‘We need to move,’ she said. ‘Now.’
Ash’s eyes opened and he looked at her with a strange expression. It was his face, but suddenly looked nothing like Ash. The fine muscles around his eyes and mouth had settled into something unfamiliar. Something mocking. A second before he spoke, Lydia realised who had taken possession of Ash. The Pearl King. The words were definitely not Ash’s.
‘Do you know where you are, child?’
‘I’m in my manor,’ Lydia said, staring deep into Ash’s eyes. She wanted the creature who was looking back to feel her gaze. ‘Camberwell is the Crows’ roost and you are not welcome here.’
‘This was once an orchard.’ Ash’s voice sounded different. His vocal cords, the king’s intonation and accent. ‘Medlar trees as far as the eye could see. Do you know this fruit? The medlar. It is well-named for you, I think. Very appropriate. You are a meddler, Lydia Crow, and we tire of your interference.’
The sound of creaking tree branches, rustling leaves, and buds bursting into blossom was getting louder by the second. Lydia ignored it all and kept her focus on Ash’s face. ‘Why don’t you talk to me in person? This,’ she indicated Ash’s prone body, ‘is beneath your dignity.’
‘This boy is my servant and I will use him however I choose, whenever I choose.’
‘No need to be tetchy,’ Lydia said, trying to annoy the king. If she could annoy the king, she could distract the king and maybe that would give her an opening. At the same time, she was trying to reach out for the sound of wings, a thousand tiny hearts beating, the feel of a warm air current lifting her up. It was difficult while blind terror threatened to engulf her, and Ash’s face grew ever-paler, but she tried. She pictured black wings closing over their bodies, shielding them and squeezed her coin in one hand, focusing her energy. There were vibrations in the air and Lydia felt a warmth around her, as if a shelter had cut the cool breeze.
Ash was still white, though, and gasping for breath. His face was still wrong, his expression not his own. Lydia felt a surge of hate for the king and she pushed, trying to usurp the presence that was squatting inside Ash or using him as their own personal puppet. The voice, which was stronger than ought to have been possible from Ash’s weakened body, said: ‘You were warned. You must not speak of us.’
Ash began to cry and Lydia knew he had returned to himself. The shelter she had pulled over them, formed of invisible wings, was holding back the trees which still reached out twisted branches, but she could sense the roots underneath the ground rising. They had to move. She wasn’t going to be able to protect them for much longer.
Lydia forced herself up and pulled Ash to his feet. ‘Come on,’ she said, towing him for a few paces before he found his feet and began to run with her. They stumbled down the street, dodging the ghostly trees. Lydia tried to keep her balance while holding onto Ash and concentrating to keep the wings closed around them like armour. There was a single stunted trunk growing from a square space in the pavement and it took Lydia a second to realize that it was a real tree and not one of the ghosts brought back by the king. A remnant of the orchard which had once stood here. Lydia paused and closed her eyes, bringing the Crow energy into the front of her mind and then down her arms and into her fingers. She let her anger over Ash’s treatment and her fear for him rise up, and then she imagined the king was standing in place of the twisted piece of ancient wood. Her hands were either very hot or very cold, she could not tell. There was a burning sensation which quickly turned to a numbness. She touched the tree, letting the feeling flow out of her fingers. It burst into flames.
The ghost trees vanished in an instant. The rustle of leaves and creaking of branches disappeared and the sounds of the city flooded back. A siren wailed in the distance, like the siren call of home. Lydia and Ash walked out of Medlar Street, breathing hard, and joined the parade of shops and barbers and cafes and the people crowding the pavement. A man was playing steel drums with a hat on the floor and a sign which said, optimistically, ‘thank you’, and a pit bull on a lead trotted over to sniff at Lydia’s leg. Some people might hark to the good old days, when Camberwell was a bucolic idyll with fields stretching as far as the eye could see and orchards thick with sticky fruit, but, on balance, Lydia preferred this version. Still, they needed to get off the streets.
* * *
Luckily, The Fork wasn’t far and they made it without further incident. Ash’s colour was better and he made it up the stairs to the flat in good time, despite seeming to be unable to stop saying ‘I’m sorry’ in a low monotone.
‘Just a bit fu
rther,’ Lydia said, chivvying him all the way. ‘Keep going, almost there.’
Not a natural cheerleader, Lydia felt exhausted from the strain of staying calm. The Pearl King had reached out and manipulated Ash as easily as slipping on a coat. Lydia knew how it felt to have another soul inside herself having given Jason a lift on numerous occasions. It wasn’t pleasant. The thought of that soul taking over was unbearable. Lydia was preoccupied with these thoughts and it took her a second to realize that Ash had stopped his quiet chant. She turned in time to see him move suddenly and violently, knocking her to the floor and sitting on her chest, knees pinning her shoulders. His hands wrapped around her throat and his eyes rolled back in his head, showing all white.
The Crow energy was there without her having to think and she used it to throw Ash off, swivelling as he fell to the side and reversing their positions. ‘Stop it,’ she said, pinning him in place. One arm got free and went straight for her neck in a jabbing blow she only just avoided. ‘Stop!’
His body was jerking, straining to throw her. Lydia wasn’t sure how long she could hold him in place, even with the Crow power flowing and his emaciated frame. He was being powered by something older and stronger than them both. A connection from far beneath the earth in the Pearl Court. ‘Sod it,’ Lydia said and punched Ash in the side of the head.
Chapter Twenty
Lydia used duct tape to secure Ash to the chair she usually used for clients. It was a basic upright and her main concern was that he would tip it and break something if he decided to struggle. He was still woozy from the punch to the head and she was getting seriously worried that he had a concussion. How did you know how hard to hit a person? How much was too much? When to stop? Cursing Charlie for not giving her training in the elements that really matter, Lydia held a cold flannel to the back of Ash’s neck.
His eyes fluttered open. ‘Lydia?’
‘I’m sorry I had to hit you,’ Lydia said. ‘You weren’t going to stop.’
‘Did I hurt you?’ The shadows under Ash’s eyes were darker than ever, his skin so pale it was translucent and she could see the veins underneath. His voice was just a quiet croak.
‘What the hell is going on?’ Jason appeared next to Lydia and she dropped the duct tape. It landed on its edge and rolled underneath the desk.
‘Not now,’ Lydia said, careful not to look in Jason’s direction. Ash seemed pretty out of it but Lydia didn’t want to alarm him any further by talking to a ghost.
‘What happened to him?’ Jason stared at Ash with naked horror. ‘He looks half-dead. And are you into kinky stuff, now?’
‘I’m going to sort this out,’ Lydia said, leaning down and looking into Ash’s eyes. ‘Everything is going to be okay. I’m sorry I’ve restrained you. It’s for your own protection. Now that we know the king can speak and act through your body, we can’t take any chances.’ She turned away, glancing at Jason as she moved to check that he had understood.
‘Holy shit,’ Jason said. ‘They can do that? Use a human being like a glove puppet.’
‘Apparently,’ Lydia said, still not looking properly at Jason. She focused on Ash. ‘Can you feel them now?’
Ash closed his eyes, his brow creasing. ‘No.’
‘Good,’ Lydia wiped his face with the flannel. ‘You thirsty?’
She moved away to get a glass of water, Jason following. ‘What are you going to do?’
‘I don’t know,’ Lydia said quietly, filling the glass. ‘He needs to eat and drink and rest. He’s exhausted and probably concussed.’
‘Where’s Fleet?’
‘At work. And he doesn’t need to know about this until later. I need to get things under control first.’
‘He could help. You shouldn’t be alone. What if Ash gets free? Tries to hurt you again?’
‘Fleet shouldn’t be a party to this. He’s still police.’
‘Lydia,’ Jason said. ‘Don’t be stubborn. You don’t have to do everything on your own.’
‘I’m not on my own,’ she said, smiling at Jason. ‘I’ve got you.’
Back in the office, Ash was as slumped as it was possible for a man to be while firmly taped to an upright chair. She had wound the tape around his chest for extra security and it gave him the unfortunate appearance of Hannibal Lecter strapped to the trolley in a strait jacket.
‘Water,’ Lydia said. ‘Take it slowly.’
Ash lifted his head slowly, as if it physically hurt. His eyes rolled, the whites showing, but then he seemed to focus. Lydia bent down and held the glass to his lips, tilting it so that he could drink. Ash’s mouth stretched in a wide smile which looked all wrong. Before Lydia could react, he had bitten down on the glass. It broke and blood spurted from his cut lips. Lydia jerked back as Ash snapped at her, blood flowing. It wasn’t Ash looking through the hazel eyes. He crunched the glass, his jaws moving methodically. His Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed the mouthful of glass.
Lydia’s throat had gone dry with fear but she managed to speak. ‘If you hurt him, I won’t answer your questions.’
Ash grinned, the blood flowing faster as his mouth stretched, opening the wounds. ‘What makes you think I have questions for you, child?’
‘What else could you want?’ Lydia tried to modulate her voice, to sound reasonable. She had to get the king onside before he hurt Ash any further. ‘I want a truce. No more watching me, no more intimidation. If you kill me, another Crow will take over and, honestly, I’m the most reasonable one in the Family. Besides, there’ll be a whole blood vendetta thing. Eye for an eye and all that. Let’s come to a mutually beneficial agreement now.’
‘Agreement?’ The king spoke in a tone of genuine confusion. Lydia didn’t know if that was because they didn’t know the word or because they couldn’t believe a mere human would dare to use it.
‘One leader to another.’
Ash’s bloodied lips curled in disgust. ‘I do not recognise your authority.’
Okay. Lydia swallowed. Tried a different tack. ‘I am aware that I disrespected you and I regret my actions.’
The King, through Ash, laughed and Lydia fought the urge to be sick. The sound was otherworldly and it made every part of Lydia want to curl up in safe space far, far away. ‘I imagine that’s true.’
‘But I can offer you a gift in recompense for my part in the loss of your latest guest.’
‘A new toy?’ Ash’s eyes gleamed.
‘Yes. In exchange for a conversation. If we pool our knowledge, it will be mutually advantageous. We have a common enemy, I believe.’
‘I find that hard to believe,’ the king said. Despite using Ash’s vocal cords and mouth, the king’s voice was recognisable. At least it was to Lydia, who could feel the Pearl magic flowing with every sound.
‘Until recently I was being blackmailed by a government department and I wondered if you or a member of your family might be having a similar problem.’
‘These are the concerns of the upper world. They are not mine.’
She tried a different tack. ‘Alejandro Silver isn’t really dead. He made some sort of deal with JRB, but—’
Ash’s face went slack and Lydia thought that king had severed their connection. Then a thin hiss escaped his lips. ‘You are unwise to mention that name in my presence.’
‘I mean no disrespect, your majesty.’ Deference did not come naturally to Lydia, but she was willing to try.
‘What is the gift you offer?’
Lydia didn’t look at Jason, couldn’t bear to see the shock she knew would follow her words. ‘Ash. I will bring him to you. Or you can bring him yourself, I guess. But I will smooth his disappearance with the police. I won’t come looking.’
Ash’s expression changed. It appeared they were thinking, and when Ash spoke it was still with the regal intonation of the Pearl King. ‘I believe my small friend told you this once. I like dead things.’
Ash’s head twisted and there was a loud crack.
Lydia stumbled back, di
mly aware of panicked swearing from a horrified Jason. Lydia forced herself into action and felt for a pulse on Ash’s neck. There wasn’t one.
‘I should call an ambulance,’ Lydia said. ‘Do CPR.’ She began pulling at the tape around his chest. She needed to get Ash onto the floor to do CPR.
‘Too late,’ Jason said. ‘He’s gone.’
Lydia knew he was right. Ash was utterly still. And the crack that she had heard, with the unnatural angle of his neck. He was dead. He had been killed. Instantly.
‘What are we going to do?’
‘You’re right. He’s gone.’
‘But this is our home,’ Jason said. ‘He’s in our home, taped to a chair.’ If he needed to breathe, Jason would be hyperventilating. As it was, he was floating a foot above the carpet and vibrating.
‘Stay calm,’ Lydia grabbed his arm and squeezed, trying to anchor Jason in the room.
‘I can’t believe how quickly… He was alive just a moment ago. He was talking.’
‘Can you see him?’ Lydia said as the thought struck her. ‘His spirit?’
Jason shook his head. ‘He’s not here. There’s nothing. He’s just gone. One moment he was here and the next moment…’
‘It’s okay,’ Lydia said, swallowing her nausea. ‘Why don’t you put the kettle on.’
‘What about the police?’
‘I’m going to sort it,’ she patted Jason’s arm. ‘I need a tea. For the shock.’
Jason’s vibrating marginally eased as he visibly pulled himself together. ‘Of course. Right. I’ll do that.’
As soon as Jason moved into the kitchen, she picked up her mobile from her desk.
‘Yo, boss.’ Aiden answered with his customary enthusiasm.
Lydia was unable to tear her gaze from Ash’s lolling head so she turned away. That was worse, it was as if she could feel the dead man looking at her, could imagine his head lifting on its broken neck and the mouth opening. She turned to face the chair again, her eyes pricking with tears at the sight of Ash’s lifeless body.
The Copper Heart Page 16