by Sally Green
Now Marcus says, “Who is to judge if that me is better or worse than the human me?”
I know my father is talking about the other side of himself, the animal part.
“I’m still getting used to him, my animal. I sort of think of him as separate from me but we’re trying to work together.”
“It took me a while. I fought it.” He shakes his head. “I thought he was trying to take over my body. He isn’t. You’re just discovering another side of yourself. The more natural part. The old part. The part of you that belongs to the earth more than any other. He’s what you need to survive and without him it’s not worth surviving anyway. Trust him and he’ll trust you. Be as close to him as you can.”
I sit with my father and watch the river until it gets hot in the afternoon and then we hunt again. We soar higher and higher and hang there, waiting. A rabbit appears far below. My father lets the air take him higher. The animal me stays focused on the rabbit and we drop lower. We both want it.
* * *
That night, back as humans, my father and me watch the sun set. I ask him about his other Gifts, those he took from other witches by eating their hearts. “Can you use them?”
“Yes. It’s like using my own Gift. They’re mine now. But none are as strong as being an animal. Some are weak. Most I never use.”
I’m itching to ask what he does use but I daren’t. I feel shy sometimes with him.
He says, “The plants thing is useful.”
“Making plants grow or die: Sara Adams, Council member.”
“What?”
“Celia made me learn all the Gifts you took, all the people you killed.”
He’s quiet for a while, thinking about that. He says, “Well, it’s useful. At least when you live like me.”
“You grew the brambles for your den?”
He nods. “And invisibility is handy, especially when you’re hiding or tracking. As is doing the spell to stop time. Being able to make cuts is another useful skill. Few can do it.”
“Can you fly?”
He frowns. “No. Who was that supposed to be from?”
“Malcolm, a Black Witch from New York. That was always questionable. Can you make big leaps, though?”
“No bigger than you.” He’s quiet again, then says, “I can fly when I’m an eagle. I can make big leaps if I’m a leopard. Is that impressive enough for you?”
I think he knows I’m impressed enough anyway.
“Do you hear noises in your head, from mobile phones and things?”
He turns to me. “Yes. And you?”
I nod.
He goes into the den and I follow. He lights the fire and says, “I live like this most of the time now. It looks poor but it isn’t.”
I don’t say anything. I can see the pleasure of being in the wild but the loneliness would be too much for me.
He says, “It’s not what you imagined, I suppose.”
“We found Mercury’s bunker. I thought it would be more like that.”
“And did you find Mercury?”
I tell my father about Mercury and all that has happened since I last met him, about Van, Nesbitt, Annalise, and Mercury. About Celia and Gus and the Alliance. It’s dawn by the time I say bluntly, “They want you to join them.”
“The Alliance?” Marcus laughs. “They must be desperate.”
“Yes, I think that sums them up.”
“And are you determined to join them? Do you really want to risk your life for a cause?”
“It’s my cause. Bringing Black and White Witches together.”
“I don’t think that is the cause. I think the cause is getting rid of a lunatic White Witch leader and a bunch of power-mad Hunters. And, once that’s done, winning the peace, as they say, will be much more problematic than winning the war.”
“You don’t need to worry about that.”
Marcus smiles at me. “Possibly not. But may I still worry a little about a war I’m likely to get killed in?”
“Will you join then?” I’m surprised. “I didn’t think you would.”
“I’m not interested in bringing Black and White Witches together. However, I am very much excited by the thought of getting rid of Soul and the Hunters. That definitely appeals. I’m not ready for retirement just yet. I’m not really a joining kind of person. But I’ll help you fight Soul and the Hunters. I’d like to meet Celia. I think I should see the woman who locked my son up every night for two years.” He shakes his head. “She’s offering me an amnesty but maybe she should be asking me for one.”
I look at him and wonder if he’s serious or joking.
“I’m not interested in amnesties or bargains, Nathan, for me or for her. I despise all that. And I hope you do too. We each do what we have to do. Maybe that applies even to Soul, I don’t know, and I don’t much care about him, except I’d like to see him die.”
And the cold way he says all this makes me realize that my father is as capable of killing a man as he is a rabbit, with no more regrets, possibly fewer.
“There’s a meeting in Basle at the Red Gourd in five days. Celia will be there.”
“I can hardly wait.”
“I should go back and tell them.”
“No. You should stay with me. We go back together or not at all.”
I look at him, uncertain as to why he says that. I ask him, “Don’t you trust me?”
He looks me in the eye and I see the same black triangles turning slowly in his as in mine. He says, “I want you to stay with me. Is a week of your life too much to ask?”
I shake my head once and feel tears fill my eyes.
He turns away. “Good.”
I finally do the thing I’ve wanted to do for so long. I pull the Fairborn out of my jacket and hold it out to him.
He takes it from me and slowly pulls the knife out of the sheath.
“It’s not a happy object, is it?” he says.
“It’s yours.”
“Yes, I suppose. My grandfather had it for a time.”
“It recognizes us, our blood. It won’t come out of the sheath for anyone else.”
He slides the knife back in and places it on the ground by his side.
It feels over too quickly after all the effort to find the Fairborn and return it to my father.
“I won’t kill you,” I say.
“Perhaps not. We’ll see.” He turns and lies down. I put another log on the fire and sit watching it and watching my father, and I realize that I am happy here with him.
The Alliance
Nearly a week has gone by. It feels like a lifetime in some ways and like just a few hours in others. My father and I have done so much hunting, walking, running, and just being together, and now we’re ready to go back to the Red Gourd for the meeting tomorrow.
“Are you sure you want to?” Marcus asks me.
“Yes. There’s Annalise.”
I’ve told him about her, about how I like her, and he’s not commented on that. As with most things he just listens and doesn’t give his opinion. I guess I’m like that too.
But now he says, “Annalise . . . the situation was like that between me and your mother. It’s not a good situation, Nathan. Not in the long term. At the beginning we were so involved in each other, we lived for nothing but the next time we were to see each other. We kept meeting and it was never enough. It was a miracle we managed to keep things secret for so long. I wanted her to leave with me but she couldn’t survive like this”—he waves his hand at the trees and river—“and she was wise enough to realize that. She married that man instead, which was less wise. Her marriage was a disaster.” He pauses and looks into the distance. “I admit I didn’t help but . . . at the time my main concern was to be with her at least a little.”
He turns to me. “You should learn from us
, Nathan. Look at yourself. You are like me. I’ve been looking for your mother in you and”—he shakes his head—“I don’t see her at all. I see me. I see Black.”
And I know he’s right. I am like him and even more so now that I’ve spent time with him, but when I’m with Annalise I feel that side of me, the White side, come to the surface.
I say, “I know what you’re saying but—”
“You look like me, you have the same Gift, you have the same loves and desires and possibly the same limitations.”
“What limitations?”
“Living in a city. Being with people. Being in buildings.”
“I admit I have a problem with buildings. But I’m OK with lots of people. Some I really like.”
“I liked your mother. Look where that ended. You’re a Black Witch, Nathan. You’re darker than most Black Witches I know. You shouldn’t have anything to do with them, with White Witches. You should leave the girl.”
I shake my head. “I can’t. I don’t want to.”
We’re silent for a while then I ask him the same question he asked me. “Are you sure you want to go? Risk losing this beautiful life?”
“It’s time I risked things for you. I’m getting old, Nathan. Not very old but before I get too old I want to spend some time with my son.”
a a a
* * *
We go back to Basle through another cut that doesn’t involve getting wet.
“How many cuts do you have?” I ask.
“Lots. I figure if they can find them then let them keep busy doing that.” He glances at me. “It gives the Hunters something to do!” He laughs. “I should fill the world with them.”
We’re in Basle the afternoon before the meeting. Marcus insists on scouting the city and says I can’t help as I’m too conspicuous, and I know that the Hunters do know what I look like. He arrives back at the walled garden when it’s dark and says, “Two Hunters. One of the benefits of being able to turn invisible is that I can follow them and listen to them for hours without much danger. They’re talking to informants or rather they would be if they could find any. It seems that the Half Bloods have disappeared. I guess they’ve fled or gone over to the Alliance, which is a good sign, though it’s making the Hunters very curious.”
“But they know nothing about the meeting tomorrow?”
Marcus shakes his head. “Those two definitely don’t.”
We sleep on the ground and I look at the stars and wonder about the future. A war is definitely coming and I have to admit that I’m curious to see my father fighting in it.
* * *
The next morning Marcus does another check of the city and the two Hunters and he returns, saying, “No change. Let’s go.”
We head to the Red Gourd. He becomes invisible for the journey, guiding me by my arm and keeping me moving fast. We approach the alley that the bar is in from a different side and I only recognize it at the last moment. As I push open the heavy wooden door and step inside, my father says, “I’ll stay like this for the moment.”
I don’t nod or acknowledge what he’s said but move down the first of the stone steps, and as I pull aside the heavy curtain I see the inside of the Red Gourd for the briefest moment before it’s gone and we’re sucked through a cut. It’s black and swirling and as empty of air as ever but I feel Marcus’s hand tight on my arm and, although I don’t know why we’ve gone through a cut, I’m reassured. I feel indestructible when my father’s with me.
And we’re out. It’s the shortest and widest cut I’ve been through. I don’t fall to the ground like I’ve done every other time, possibly because the cut is so wide and possibly because my father is holding me up.
I look around for Hunters but there are none.
We’re in a bar but not the Red Gourd or at least not the original one. This bar is in the open air, in a forest clearing. It is laid out the same as the Red Gourd with tables along the wall, only here there is no wall, though the booths at the far end are still booths. To my right is the long bar but there’s no wall behind that either and instead of the low, timbered roof of the Red Gourd there is a canvas sail that is tied taut between trees.
Gabriel, Van, Celia, and the other White Witch, Grace, are sitting at the furthest table and Gus is standing with them, his back to me. I take a step toward them but my father holds me still.
Gabriel sees me, and Gus turns and says, “Talk of the devil.”
My father lets go of my arm.
I say, “Hi.”
They all look at me expectantly and I’m not sure what to say or what my father wants me to do.
Celia says, “Are you alone?”
“My father is . . . thinking about your offer.”
“So you’ve failed,” says Gus. “You were supposed to bring Marcus with you.”
And then Gus screams and grabs at the right side of his face, blood pouring between his fingers. He drops to his knees. Blood is running down his neck, his arm, and onto the floor. He’s still screaming and grasping at the side of his face as Marcus appears, standing over him. The Fairborn is in his left hand and something else, something small and bloody, is in his right hand. I think it’s Gus’s ear.
Everyone is still and silent, except for Gus, who is wailing now.
Marcus says, “Gus. I really must thank you for working with me over the last few years, acting as such a . . .” Marcus looks at me with a mock confused expression on his face. “What was the phrase, Nathan? An ‘extremely discreet and equally cautious’ messenger. However, pulling a knife on my son strikes me as being neither discreet nor cautious. So I felt I had to do the same to you. You can take that as an end to our working relationship.”
Gus looks like he’s going to be sick.
Marcus drops the ear on the ground and wipes the Fairborn clean on Gus’s shoulder. “So, Nathan, do you want to introduce me to your friends? I’d particularly like to know which one is the Hunter who kept you in a cage.”
Celia moves to stand but Marcus says, “No, don’t get up.”
He doesn’t say it out of politeness but as an instruction. I can see Celia is thinking about it but she remains sitting, cool as ever. She says, “And I have always wanted to meet the man who killed my sister.”
Marcus smiles. “Really? I had no idea.” He moves to stand behind Celia but speaks to Van. He says, “Thanks for the invitation to come here today, Van. I get very few, as you can imagine.”
Gus is now vomiting on the floor.
Marcus looks at him with disgust and says to Celia, “We need to talk. But I’m finding Gus here a little distracting. If I stay here any longer I’m likely to cut more than his ear off.”
Celia gets up. “Well, I suggest we take a walk then.”
And off they go together into the forest. And I’m not sure if Celia will come out alive, with both ears or what.
Rivers of Blood
Two hours later Celia and Marcus return to the camp. Celia has both her ears. They walk back side by side, deep in conversation, not looking at each other but staying close enough to keep their voices quiet.
Soon we’re all back sitting round the table, except Gus, who has wisely disappeared from Marcus’s sight. Van helped him heal and reattached his ear. It looked a mess to me, though.
Van has told me we’re in the Black Forest of southern Germany. Celia plans on using this place as the main camp for the Alliance.
Celia opens the meeting by stating the principal aim of the Alliance: “To remove Soul O’Brien from the leadership of the White Witches, by killing him if necessary, and to return Britain to a state of peaceful coexistence among all Witches.
“Our first objective is to drive the Hunters out of Europe. They are moving down from the north but are still concentrated in northern France and Germany. They’re growing in number, recruiting as they move south. The longer we wait
before attacking, the harder it will be to stop them. We must attack, both to deter new recruits and to remove the ones they already have before they’re fully trained.
“However, we have few fighters and can afford to lose none of them. Each attack must succeed on three fronts: killing the enemy, demoralizing the enemy, raiding their stores—seizing their weapons, equipment and food—”
“I take it you have no weapons?” Marcus interrupts.
“Few, and nothing to match the Hunters’ guns. Those are what we need to get our hands on most of all. When they realize that they’re going to be killed with their own bullets—a slow, painful death—that’s another small advantage we win.”
I say to Celia, “I don’t see how the raids will deter new recruits. The Hunters are hardly going to tell anyone about them, are they?”
“News will travel. White Witches keep much closer contact with each other than Black Witches do. But we will also spread the word about Alliance successes. We need recruits too. Van will let the Black Witches know that Marcus is working with us. Once they hear that, and see us succeeding, more will join.
“But it won’t be easy,” Celia adds. “Hunters pride themselves on learning from their mistakes. They analyze all their battles, victories and defeats. They’ll soon work out our tactics.”
“And what are our tactics?” I ask.
“We have an elite group of fighters—”
“We do?”
“Yes. Myself, Greatorex, Nesbitt, Gabriel. And now you and Marcus. Plus some good trainees.”
“Not huge numbers then!”
“That’s fine. We attack, raid, and run. In and out quickly. We pick the weak groups of new recruits to attack. That’s what the scouts are out looking for at the moment. We choose our first target when they get back to base.”
“Is this base?” I ask.
“Yes, all those who join the Alliance will come here. It will soon grow and will need organizing. Everyone will have to do their bit.”
Celia explains that each person will be put in a task group. There are four groups: Scouts and Fighters; Foraging and Stores; Cooking and Camp; and Healers. Gabriel and I are fighters. Ellen, Greatorex, and Nesbitt are scouting at the moment. Annalise is in Foraging and Stores and is with one of the groups now, helping bring provisions to this base.