by Sally Green
“And Gabriel is OK now?”
“Fit as a fiddle.”
“So why didn’t he come for the letters himself?”
“Ah. Well, there’s a bit of a trust issue, isn’t there? We don’t want him running off without handing over the goods.”
“I’m sure Gabriel could be trusted to show his gratitude if, as you say, Van saved his life.”
Nesbitt smiles at me again and shrugs. “Yeah, true, kid. Peace and lurve and all that. But it’s in the nature of Black Witches to not always act as they should. Particularly the good-looking French ones, I’ve found.”
“So, where’s Gabriel now?”
“With Van, near Geneva. Not far. A few hours by car.”
“You can take me then—because, as it happens, I do have the letters. I’ll give them to Gabriel and he can do what he wants with them.” I give Nesbitt one of my best stares.
Nesbitt shudders, then laughs. “Sounds like a plan. Leave now or tomorrow?”
I think about it. I haven’t slept properly for ages; it would be good to rest before we go. But I don’t want to sleep near Nesbitt. I still don’t trust him. And I don’t trust the animal inside me either.
“Tomorrow,” I say. “I’ve got something to do. I’ll be back in the morning.” Though all I’ve got to do is rest and think.
As I’m about to leave I ask him, “Do you have a Gift, Nesbitt?” He’s a Half Blood but I think he has one.
“I can see in the dark. Real well.”
“Useful.”
“And you?” he asks. “You were trying to get back to Mercury for your birthday. I’m guessing you had your Giving. But have you found your Gift yet?”
“I was brought up to think it rude to ask a witch about their Gift.”
“So how come you asked me? You forgetting your good manners, kid?”
I swear at him, telling him where to go to.
“Whites have strange ideas of what’s polite, that’s for sure. And you’re a lot like them. Half White, brought up by them . . .”
Nesbitt is just pushing buttons, trying to find one that gets me going. Everything he says is some kind of niggle or angle or joke.
“So?” he asks. “Have you found your Gift?”
I don’t answer. I’m too tired. I just turn and walk away. I know I’m nothing like any White Witch I’ve ever met, neither the good ones nor the bad. And Nesbitt is not like anyone I’ve ever met before.
* * *
The night’s cool. It’s late July and, although the days are hot, we’re high in the mountains and there are pockets of snow in the gullies on the north-facing valley wall. As I trek away from Nesbitt I try to work out how much of what he said is true.
It sounds like Gabriel was shot by Hunters as he tried to lure them away from me. He saved my life and risked his own in the process. And Van and Nesbitt rescued him but I don’t understand why. Surely they didn’t go to all that trouble just for some letters. It sounds like Van and Nesbitt came to Geneva at the same time as the Hunters. Could they have come for me? Could they be working with the Hunters in some way? Gabriel did tell me that Hunters use Half Bloods as informants. For all I know, Victoria van Dal doesn’t exist and Nesbitt has been sent by Hunters. But that doesn’t feel right. Why wouldn’t they just come themselves?
And, if Victoria van Dal does exist, what does she really want? Me? The tin of letters? Gabriel told me that in the letters is something special—a recipe for a potion or instructions for a spell is what I’d always assumed. Whatever it is, Gabriel was going to give it to Mercury if she succeeded in helping him turn from a fain back into a witch. But Mercury never seemed in any rush to do that. If this thing was so amazing, wouldn’t she have been more keen to get her hands on it?
Then there’s the biggest question of them all: is Gabriel really alive? He must have told Van about the cave but who knows what’s happened to him since?
There’s no way for me to know the truth of any of this. All my life I’ve been told how untrustworthy Black Witches are but so far they seem just about as trustworthy as anyone else. All I can do is go with Nesbitt and hope he’ll take me to Gabriel. I don’t have any other options.
On the positive side (and positivity is my middle name) Nesbitt says Van has the Fairborn. We went through so much to get that knife, to steal it from Clay, and I want it back. If I do ever get the chance to return it to my father I will.
I find a sheltered spot on a steep hillside and curl up between the roots of a fir tree. I take a deep breath, exhale slowly. I need to sleep, I need to rest. Tomorrow I’ll see Gabriel.
* * *
I jump awake. It’s still dark. I’ve no idea how long I’ve slept. A few hours, maybe. I listen out for any noise, scan for any movement in the dark shadows of the trees.
Nothing.
I lie back down and close my eyes but I’m wide awake. I don’t want to sleep anymore. I want to go to Gabriel.
I’m fully dressed and I always sleep with my arm through one loop of my rucksack so all I have to do is stand and I’m ready to go. I set off, eager to see Nesbitt, eager to get going.
The forest is silent and still. Nothing moving except me. But something is different. I stop and listen.
Silence.
The sky is lightening now, pale blue, not much more than white. I stop by a tiny spring. I know the water tastes good: I’ve been here many times before. There’s moss on the jagged stones, the water seeps and dribbles rather than flows, and the life it brings is lime-green, plump moss. I hold my hand against the rock and let it fill with water.
That’s when I hear it.
c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h
It’s not buzzing. I don’t know why I think of it as buzzing—that doesn’t describe it at all. It’s static. The only way to put it into words is to say it’s the sound of electricity. The sound of a mobile phone.
Nesbitt didn’t have a mobile with him earlier.
Fains do, and so do Hunters.
Has Nesbitt betrayed me already?
I let the water fall, wipe my hand on my jeans, and draw my knife. The cave is across and down the slope from me, a few hundred meters away, and I move toward it. The hiss is faint but getting slightly stronger. I can feel the animal adrenaline rise a little but I breathe slowly, in and out, calm myself, concentrate on what’s happening.
c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h
I’m twenty meters from the cave, level with it, my knife in my hand.
C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H
There’s movement below me, a black figure partly hidden by the forest. Then there’s a grunt. I tread softly but quickly down. The black figure moves away from me and is lost in the trees. Only Hunters can be that fast and quiet—no fain could do it. And I follow. We’re racing downhill, fast and silent, and I gain on the figure and see it’s not one but two men in black. And I’m jumping down a small cliff and sliding down the slope on my backside and I’m up again and below them now but they’re further along and I see one black figure leap downhill onto the first. And I run to them and slow. The two black figures are fighting on a small area of flatter ground.
It’s not two Hunters. It’s Nesbitt. The Hunter was chasing him but now Nesbitt has got his arm round the Hunter’s neck. The Hunter’s face is quickly turning purple. Nesbitt looks up as I step toward him but he doesn’t change his grip on the Hunter.
“Kid, you gave me a scare. For a minute I thought you were the other
one. I’d love to ask this fella a few questions.”
The Hunter Nesbitt is holding I recognize as Kieran’s partner.
“He won’t tell you anything and we’ve got bigger problems,” I say. “The other one’s invisible. And fast,” I remember to add.
“Great.”
Nesbitt keeps hold of the Hunter and his body jerks and struggles but seems to know it’s already lost. It gives up. Hangs there. It twitches once again and then is still. Nesbitt lowers the body to the ground.
“I know the other Hunter,” I say. “He wants me.” And I know I want him too, and I think I can take him but I’m not sure, if he’s invisible. I wonder if the animal in me will come to help.
I look up the slope. We’ve come a long way.
I say, “Your best chance is to run. I’ll deal with the other one.”
“Sure?”
I keep scanning the mountainside above me but it’s all still and quiet. “Keep out of the way for a few hours is my advice.”
“This one hasn’t got a gun. Just a knife,” Nesbitt says. “They weren’t prepared.”
“Are you staying or going?”
Nesbitt grins at me, says, “Good luck, kid,” then bounds off down the slope. He quickly disappears but I imagine he’ll be back to see which of us, if either, survives.
I turn the other way, going as silently as I can but hard and fast too, back to the cave, listening all the time. I crouch down on the bare rock above the cave and put my knife on the ground in front of me. I’m clearly visible to Kieran but he has to come to me. The forest is as still as ever. The sun is up now, shards of light angling down through the trees. One of the shards to my left blinks off and back on, as if an invisible body has passed through it, and the animal adrenaline races into my bloodstream and I want the animal to take over. A small cascade of rocks clatters and I turn to the sound. Another shard of light blinks off and on and the animal adrenaline is surging and I lick my lips and rise up from my haunches.
C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H
The adrenaline floods into my system.
C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C HC H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H CHCHCHCH
One Last Look
“Nathan? That you?” Nesbitt calls as he comes up the slope.
He stops.
I don’t move. Neither does Kieran.
“Oh shit.” Nesbitt turns, bends, and coughs. He coughs again and watery sick slides to the ground. He straightens, takes a breath, and turns to me, keeping his eyes on me, my face, and not on Kieran’s body, which is lying in the mouth of the cave.
“You OK?” Nesbitt asks.
I don’t feel like answering and I just stay still, sitting on the ground. I don’t remember what happened once I transformed. All I know is that I woke up near Kieran’s body, his knife embedded in my left thigh. I pulled it out and healed. I found my clothes, which were in a small pile in the exact spot where I’d waited for Kieran, as if I’d shrunk to nothing and the clothes had dropped off me when I turned into . . . whatever animal I turn into. My father’s ring was by the pile too. I sit and twirl it round my finger now. All the time I’m trying to remember something, anything, but it’s all black.
“How long is it since you left?” I ask.
“I dunno. I guess about two hours.”
The fight must have started about twenty minutes after I left Nesbitt and would have been over in a few minutes at most. I woke and went to the stream to wash and have been waiting here for around an hour. So it seems I only slept for ten minutes or so—not long at all. But I can’t remember anything between standing above the cave and waking up with Kieran’s knife in my thigh and his blood in my mouth. I had to lie in the stream to get all the blood off. It covered my face and neck and chest.
Now Nesbitt is swigging out of a hip flask and looking at me, then down at Kieran. When our eyes meet he says, “Well, kid, I guess your Gift is like your dad’s, huh?”
I don’t answer.
Nesbitt puts his hand over his mouth, moves closer to Kieran, and peers at him. “Did you break his neck first or did that happen when you ripped his throat out?”
“Shut up.”
“And his stomach is sort of all over the ground here, so I’m guessing you have big claws and jaws and—”
“Shut up.”
“Just thought it might help to, you know . . . talk about it.”
“You thought wrong.”
“Drink?” He holds the flask out to me. “Might take the taste away.”
I swear at him.
“Being practical about things, killing them both was the only sensible solution.”
“I said shut up. We need to leave.”
“Yes, and soon. But we don’t need to panic.”
“I’m not panicking.” Though I’m itching to get going.
“Those two couldn’t have told anyone what they were up to, otherwise the hillside would be swarming with Hunters by now.”
“And what makes you think the hillside isn’t swarming with Hunters?”
He grins. “Cos we’re still alive. And I admit, mate, that I did get quite a way before I decided to come back.” He takes another swig from his flask. “I don’t think there’s anyone but us and two dead bodies for miles. And they didn’t bring guns. Hunters usually carry a full bloody armory. These are the guys from the cottage, aren’t they? Gabriel told us about that place and I checked it out three days ago from a safe distance, a considerable safe distance. In fact, from the other side of the valley, with binoculars. Have you been at the cottage recently?”
“Two nights ago.”
“They’ll have found your tracks. You know, when I met you the first time I thought you left a trail cos you were ill, not cos you don’t know how to keep hidden.”
I swear at him again. I wasn’t that careful but that’s because I was planning on leaving. Or did I do it on purpose? Did I hope Kieran would find the trail? I’m not sure I really know.
Nesbitt continues. “I reckon they were out for a stroll; they never thought you’d be daft enough to go back to the cottage. They were wandering around, picking berries or something, when they saw your tracks—certainly not mine cos I never leave any and I wasn’t stupid enough to go close to the cottage—and they followed the trail here. They should have gone back for their guns but they didn’t want to risk losing you. We got lucky but they’ll be missed soon. We need to get going. We’ll have to leave them where they are. Not so nice if they’re found by fains but I think the Hunters’ll clean it all up before then.”
“Let’s get out of here.” I lift my rucksack onto my shoulder.
Kieran’s body is lying at my feet. His right eye isn’t quite shut; the left side is pulp and tiny flies are caught in the blood. Nesbitt goes through Kieran’s clothes, taking a knife, torch, money, but tossing the phone aside. He puts the booty into his rucksack before slinging it onto his back and walking away.
I set off but can’t help looking back one last time. More flies have collected on Kieran’s face so that from a distance he looks like he’s wearing a black eyepatch. His neck is mostly gone, the white of his spine visible below his head, but his upper chest is intact. I didn’t eat his heart, that’s for sure, but his stomach is open, his guts hanging out in a red and purple morass. And I wonder what sort of animal does that to a human being.
Van Dal
We hike fast. Nesbitt must be in his early thirties. He’s fit and clearly a good fighter but I have to slow down for him and stop when he wants to rest. I could run all day, all night, and all the next day, even though I’ve hardly slept. I can almost sleep while I run.
Nesbitt won’t say where we’re going but when we leave the mountains and the forest we walk along a path between fields, toward a town lying below us. I can see a railway
line and ask him if we’re going by train. He says, “Public transport? For us? No, mate, we need to find a car.”
“A car or your car?”
He doesn’t answer but gives a little skip of delight as he spots a gleaming gray saloon. He says to me, “I love the new Audi. And these keys”—he holds a key fob, dangling it in front of me, grinning as he walks backward—“these electric sensor ones, are so much easier than the old style.”
He walks up close to the driver’s door and presses the fob. The door unlocks. We get in and Nesbitt rubs his hands. “Leather seats, air con, cruise control. Gorgeous.”
“But you don’t own it.”
Nesbitt laughs. “Ownership is theft, mate. Ain’t that what those fains say?”
“Not that I’ve heard.” I pick up the fob. I don’t know much about cars but I can see it’s for a BMW, not an Audi.
“Van put her magic on it and it opens the car you’re nearest to.” Nesbitt pulls out and screeches off at a frightening pace. I put my seat belt on tight. “We’ll be at the house in a couple of hours. It’s a humdinger of a place.”
“Van’s house?”
“Not exactly. There are many empty houses and it’s a waste not to use them. We maximize underutilized resources, like these cars that are left standing around.”
“I guess you never ask if you can maximize.”
Nesbitt grins. “You guess right, mate. Though, if Van did ask, people would agree. She has a potion for that. She’s got a potion for most things.”
* * *
Nesbitt is right. It is a humdinger of a house—a modern, sprawling, kingpin-of-the-drug-world sort of humdinger of a house. There’s a three-meter-high wall round it with a solid metal gate that looks like it could withstand a rocket attack and is operated electronically, presumably by the person watching through the cameras that are fixed on the gateposts. Van clearly found a way round the security system. I don’t see how potions could circumvent electronics, though I guess it’s the same way she can get cars to unlock.