The Seventh Star (The King's Watch Book 7)

by Mark Hayden

  I flicked back on my phone and found one of the few pictures I’ve saved of me and Desi out on the town. She looked at it carefully. ‘Good choice.’

  Her face was full of questions she was too polite to ask. Questions like Did you have the certificate? And How did you afford it?

  ‘It wasn’t a choice,’ I said, looking down at the table. ‘It was a gift. A gift I shouldn’t have accepted.’ I left a pause and she said nothing. ‘I’d better start on this before the cream melts.’

  When I dug in, she said, ‘Did you know Mina before Conrad or vice versa?’

  ‘Mmmm. This is delicious, Lucy. I suppose you know all about them.’

  ‘And you know all about me. I was just being curious, that’s all.’

  ‘Which leaves me as the enigma. I’ve always wanted to be an enigma.’ I gave her a smile, to show I didn’t take it personally. ‘I met Conrad first and Mina shortly after. She was still in prison then. She’s a friend now.’

  ‘She seems very strong willed.’

  ‘Not half. We don’t call her Rani for nothing.’

  ‘So what’s her connection to Tara Doyle? Tara doesn’t turn up at random places for no reason. And you had some great moves, by the way.’

  ‘Thanks. She came to see our boss. Mine and Conrad’s.’

  ‘That’s what I thought.’ She put her empty cup down. I don’t think she drinks espressos, she just inhales them. ‘Is this case going to be dangerous?’

  ‘If it is, it won’t be for Tom. I didn’t know Conrad when Tom first met him, but I can tell you that he never breaks his word and that he prides himself on never having lost anyone in his command.’

  She looked uncertain. ‘Are you going to be involved?’

  I shook my head. ‘I’m back to London on the train tonight. Conrad’s getting a new apprentice, or subaltern as he calls them. And Mina’s due in court as an expert witness.’

  There was a knock at the door and Katya said, ‘Is here,’ in a Polish accent. I’m guessing it was Polish. I never did find out.

  Lucy excused herself and a few seconds later I was joined by the one Lucy calls Scarywoman, also known as Elaine Fraser.

  ‘Now then,’ she said. ‘It’s Victoria, isn’t it?’ She had a strong Lancashire accent. Or Yorkshire. I never could tell the difference.

  ‘Vicky. Aye. Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Like you. Orders. I go where Sheriff Morton goes.’

  ‘Sheriff?’

  ‘Long story. At least we’re done for the week, and Rob’s at home tonight, so I get a proper weekend.’

  She had quite long hair for a police officer, tied back in a brutal ponytail, and she was dressed at the sporty end of plainclothed. She reminded me a bit of Keira Faulkner, the rogue Mage we sent into exile, and who might be about to come back to haunt us. Metaphorically speaking. She’s not dead, yet. Worse luck.

  ‘Oh?’ I said in my polite voice. ‘Does Rob work away?’

  ‘Sorry. I thought you knew. I meant that he’s playing at home tonight. He’s a centre for Irwell Mancunia.’ I gave her a blank look. ‘Rugby Union. You’re not a fan?’

  ‘I prefer football, and whatever you do, don’t get Conrad started on cricket. You’ll never shut him up. Nor Mina.’

  She smiled. ‘Good to know.’

  ‘And don’t let him near the car radio. All he listens to is Classic FM.’

  ‘Tell me about it. Tom has a thing for choral music. If only he could bloody sing, I wouldn’t mind. I know Conrad smokes. Anything else I should be aware of?’

  ‘If he puts on his RAF voice and gives you an order, don’t even think about it. Just do it.’

  ‘Oh. Right.’ She went to the door and opened it. ‘Come on, Tom. You can snog Lucy later.’

  There was an edge to her voice that went beyond banter, as if she didn’t quite approve. Tom Morton appeared with a pot of tea and a coffee for Elaine. I must say, he is without question the best dressed copper I’ve ever seen. That pin-striped suit must have cost him a fortune. He hung his equally rich woollen coat on a hanger and sat down.

  He stirred his pot of tea and said, dead casual like, ‘So how long has this farrago of nonsense existed? As far as I can tell, MI7 was created last night, despite what the Angel of Death would have me believe.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘John Lake. I call him the Angel of Death because he rarely has good news.’

  ‘Oh, that security liaison guy. I’ve only seen him on a video link.’

  ‘Lucky you. Unfortunately for me, he has a big budget, which means that he can offer some of it to my section if they’ll send me off on this mission. So who am I really dealing with?’

  ‘MI7 is a multi-disciplinary agency from the police, military and technical backgrounds,’ I replied.

  ‘Bullshit,’ said Elaine in a friendly voice. ‘You can do better than that, Vicky. Are you really a captain in the Army?’

  ‘Do you know the real reason they sent me? Apart from Conrad being ill? It’s ’cos they reckon I’m a terrible liar.’

  ‘What’s up with Clarke? He seemed fine on Wednesday.’

  ‘Injured in the line of duty. Sort of. He should be back by Monday. And I am a captain, but it’s a technical role. I’m not a real soldier. And the Boss was a detective in London. Inspector, no less.’

  ‘Really?’ He looked very sceptical.

  ‘Really. Conrad said you should ring Ruth Kaplan if you want a reference.’

  ‘I’ll do that. Assuming I agree to get involved, what’s the nature of the job?’

  ‘A missing person. There’s more to it than that, but basically that’s what it is. A missing person.’

  ‘So, they want to put a wing commander, a captain, a DCI, and a DS on to a missing person’s case full time with no deadline? Do you know how much that costs?’

  I shrugged and grinned. ‘It’ll be a second lieutenant, not a captain. Haven’t a clue about the costs. Why should I?’

  ‘Follow the money,’ said Elaine. She pointed at her partner. ‘That’s his motto. He loves a good spreadsheet, does DCI Morton.’

  He pretended to ignore her. Their double act is very good. Almost as good as me and Conrad’s.

  Before he spoke again, he rubbed a spot at the top of his left arm. I wouldn’t mention it except that Elaine half-raised her hand to stop him, then realised I was watching. He stopped rubbing and said, ‘The amount of resources tells me that this case either involves a Very VIP or it stinks. I don’t like stinky cases.’

  ‘My boss said to tell you that MI7 upholds the law. All of it.’

  ‘We’ll think about it. We’re busy on Monday, so where do we start?’

  I looked at Elaine. ‘Do you know a place called Sackville Park in Manchester?’

  ‘I do indeed. It means I get a lie-in for a change. Unless he wants to meet at the crack of dawn.’

  ‘Nah. Eleven o’clock at the Alan Turing memorial.’

  ‘Why there?’ said Tom.

  ‘Because Conrad likes to meet outdoors. That way he can smoke. Right pain sometimes.’

  ‘Fine.’ He took out his phone. ‘That’s in South Lancashire Constabulary’s jurisdiction. What’s the case number?’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  He put his phone down. ‘You say you uphold the law. In that case, there will be a missing person’s report. If you can’t remember the reference number, you can text it to me.’

  ‘Erm. Fine. I’ll tell the Boss.’

  ‘Not Conrad himself?’

  ‘Last time I saw him, he was complaining that the Countess of Chester Hospital smelled of gardenias and jasmine. See? No stinky cases. Anything else you want to know?’

  ‘Nothing you’re likely to tell me. If this is above board, then I’m a leprechaun.’

  It was too tempting. I used my Sight to investigate his Imprint, on the off-chance. Was that a tiny hint of a latent Gift? Well, what do you know.

  ‘You’re not a leprechaun,’ I told him as I put on my coat. ‘
Can’t be too careful. Genetic engineering is more advanced than people realise. That’s part of our remit, by the way. In MI7. Have a great weekend, and I hope Rob scores lots of tries or whatever it is he does. Thanks for coming.’

  ‘Thanks,’ said Elaine. ‘Safe journey.’

  I said goodbye to Lucy on the way out, and she waved, then smiled. ‘You don’t use TripAdvisor, do you?’

  ‘’Fraid not. Uncle Conrad won’t let us use social media.’

  She burst out laughing. ‘Uncle Conrad? Tom will love that when I tell him.’

  ‘Aye, well, Elaine gave me Sheriff Morton, so it’s a fair exchange. Have a nice weekend.’

  For Elaine’s sake, I hoped the stands at Irwell Mancunia had a roof. It looked like rain again. I could never live over this side of the Pennines. Far too wet and miserable. Give me cold and miserable any day.

  8 — Safe Haven

  The second time I arrived at Middlebarrow, the reception committee was down to two: Saskia and Evie, and they met us at the car park before the gate to Middlebarrow Haven. Saskia looked troubled, and Evie just looked happy that I’d come back.

  The fever hadn’t broken until yesterday evening, and then they’d called a crash team because my temperature plummeted instead of slowly returning to normal. I felt like shit, yes, but also different in some way, the same way that I’d felt different after the Allfather had first brought me into the world of magick. I just had to figure out how.

  The women of Middlebarrow stepped up and opened the passenger door for me, and Evie offered me a hand to get out. As you know, I’m never too proud to accept help, even if she did nearly fall over.

  ‘How are you feeling?’ said Saskia.

  ‘In need of a proper meal and a good night’s sleep,’ I replied. ‘Basically, I’m fine.’

  ‘Let’s get you inside.’

  I shook my head. ‘Not until I’ve made my peace with Scout.’

  The first time he’d seen me, he’d gone ballistic and freaked out, running away. A quick phone call to Hannah (squeezed in before Shabbos) suggested that I now smelled of Nymph, and that he’d need to get used to it. I had an idea about that.

  ‘Could you bring him and give him to Mina? I’m going down to the grove.’

  They disappeared through the gap in the hedge, and I realised that it wasn’t just a gap: it was a tunnel of trees and I could now see a building beyond it. So the bond had worked.

  ‘Are you sure about this?’ said Mina, who’d been trying to stop me since I walked out of the hospital after lunch.

  ‘I’m sure. And thanks for getting new clothes. I feel much better.’

  All the ones I’d been wearing on Wednesday had been cut off me in A&E or were too water-damaged. There was one thing missing, though, and to my delight, Saskia brought it out, while Evie hung back with a very agitated Scout.

  ‘Thank you,’ I said to Saskia, accepting my Barbour and harvesting a filthy look from Mina. For some reason, she doesn’t like my coat. I took a deep breath through my nose. I got a faint tingle of something different, but that could just be the fresh air after the hospital. I decided to wait before trying to combine my sense of smell with my magickal Sight.

  ‘Better get it over with,’ I said to Mina. ‘You stay back and walk with him.’

  I started walking the 250m to the grove. When I had a good distance, I shouted, ‘With me, Scout!’

  My voice was clearly the same, and he started to follow me, with Mina trailing behind. He still didn’t look happy, and didn’t come any closer. My sense of smell told me that I was getting close to something, and that something was in the woods. The odd thing was that I’d passed a stream on the way and detected nothing. I reckon Hannah was a bit off in her diagnosis.

  As soon as I entered the wood, the hairs on the back of my neck told me that I was near magick, even without the strong smell of flowers. I followed the path, water from last night’s rain coating my new boots. And there, at the centre of the clearing, I realised that I wasn’t smelling fresh water at all. I was smelling Nymph. It was the creature, not her environment that I could sense.

  Proper Mages can sense Gnomes, the Fae and other non-human creatures. I can’t, or I couldn’t. It looked like this was part of the bargain: in return for a near-death experience, some of Nimue’s magick had rubbed off on me.

  There was water trickling out of the spring. I whistled Scout and rubbed the water all over my hands. He came reluctantly to the edge of the clearing, Mina hanging back to watch.

  ‘Here, boy. Come on, Scout.’

  He walked slowly towards me, constantly ready to jump back, until he could sniff my hands. I sat still. No sudden movements. Finally, he gave my hand a lick and wagged his tail. I gave him a scratch behind the ears and reached into my pocket. The dog-treats were still there, and he lapped a couple off my fingers happily.

  ‘Shall we go?’ I said to him. He looked happier when I stood up and walked away. By the time we got to the edge of the woods, he was off exploring his new territory. ‘Is there a bench we can sit on before we go back?’

  Mina gave me a dark look. ‘I thought you might give up smoking after what you’ve been through.’

  I patted the other pocket of my coat. ‘Not yet. Maybe when I’m forty.’

  ‘If you live that long.’

  She filled me in on a few more details while we sat admiring the view over rich, rural Cheshire, starting with the headlines from Vicky’s meeting with Tom Morton and Elaine Fraser. I wasn’t entirely happy about his insistence on a missing person’s report for “Fae Klass”, but if that was his price…

  ‘Hannah has been on to Tara Doyle,’ said Mina. ‘The report is filed. She also said that Karina will drive up on Sunday. Do you think you’ll be well enough to start working with her?’

  ‘I’m not planning on any combat exercises. I was thinking a few walks round the grounds and a chat. How have you got on with the Masons?’

  ‘Saskia has been professional and helpful. If that sounds like I’m writing a review, that’s how she comes over: she has a responsibility and a duty, but she didn’t warm to me as a person, but then again we didn’t get off to a good start. She asked me if I wanted one of the rooms in the house set aside for Friday prayers.’

  ‘Ouch.’

  She looked peeved. I’ve learnt that when one of my fellow countrymen is guilty of casual (or deliberate) racism, the best thing to do is to acknowledge what she felt and then keep quiet.

  She went from peeved to a proper frown. ‘Middle class racism is bad, but not as bad as that doctor.’

  A dim memory surfaced of the treatment room in A&E. ‘Did I hear you speaking Hindi to him?’

  ‘You did. He asked if my family knew what I was doing. He made it sound like I was prostituting myself with the rich Englishman.’

  I tried some humour. ‘He got that bit wrong, then. I’m not rich.’

  ‘He saw Vicky lifting half a ton of gold bling off your neck so they could give you a scan. I told him that I hoped his medical education was more up to date than his values. It was all I could think of.’ She shrugged and changed the subject. ‘I can’t work Evie out. She is very nice most of the time. She was very worried about you on a personal level, unlike her mother. She loved watching the videos of the party and wants us to invite Tara Doyle for tea.’

  ‘I can hear a “but” coming.’

  ‘She has a tendency to bang around like a teenager. When she had to make up an extra bed for Hannah, she slammed doors and didn’t speak to anyone for an hour.’

  I stood up and stretched. ‘What’s the house like?’

  ‘See for yourself, and you won’t be getting any surprise visits from me. Only Mages with a token can get through the Wards.’ She smiled and frowned at the same time. ‘Even getting out is near impossible for me, and the one time I managed it, I couldn’t even find the gap in the hedge, never mind go down it. I had to get Saskia up from the Lodge to get back in.’

  I whistled Scout over and
he came at once, and didn’t object when I clipped his lead on. We strolled back to the house and I felt the magick building as I approached the drive of Middlebarrow Haven. As soon as I felt the first tingle, it pushed against me, then receded when it sensed who I was.

  I took Mina’s hand and walked down a short avenue of ancient trees, and when I say ancient, I’m referring to species and not individual specimens: ash, beech and willow all led to a short hedge of yew. I’d seen the same species in my shared vision with Nimue.

  At the end of the drive, my new lodgings did their best to develop the theme of continuity by offering a Victorian take on our mediæval past. Middlebarrow Haven is a Tudor revival house of brick on the ground floor with half-timbering above, with the upper storeys being all angled dormers and projecting windows. I studied it for a moment and said, ‘I still prefer Gothic.’

  ‘Gothic what?’

  ‘Architecture.’

  ‘Oh. I thought you were looking for the stables. They’re round the back, and they were converted to garages. I don’t think that Evenstar would be comfortable. Scout seems happy enough in the old coal bunker.’ She waved at the house. ‘Evie said that the architect is famous, but she couldn’t remember his name. It’s not as old as it looks.’

  ‘I’d have said about 1880.’

  Mina shook her head and headed around the side, away from the formal front door. ‘Why can’t you be an expert on useful things.’

  Scout and I trailed after her. ‘We’re experts on getting in trouble, aren’t we, lad?’

  ‘Arff.’

  The inside of the Haven (as it’s known) was what you’d expect. Mina went to get changed while Saskia showed me round and Evie got the tea ready. Saskia told me the name of the architect (John Douglas, a very talented man), and showed me the Deputy’s study. There was a large formal dining room and connected drawing room, both of which I was subtly discouraged from using, and then we ended up back where we started, in the expensively refurbished family kitchen-diner.

  Evie took great pride in bringing over the most delicate three-tiered cake stand, loaded with home-made sandwiches and cakes from a patisserie in Chester. ‘I’m not really a baker,’ she said.