by Mark Hayden
I’m fourteen years older than Vicky, yet her parents are older than mine. They stood up when I entered the family room, clearly expecting the consultant, and clearly disappointed when I wasn’t him.
‘Mr and Mrs Robson? I’m…’
‘You’re Conrad Clarke, aren’t you?’ said Mr Robson
You could tell he was an ex-miner: big, beefy and bald. His face told the story of his life with a scar on his cheek, damage from his years of drinking and a wariness from thirty years’ sober. He didn’t look happy to see me.
‘Are you gonna tell us what the fuck’s been gan’on with our girl?’
‘Jack! Language! I’m sorry, Mr Clarke. I’m Erica, and this is John.’
Vicky’s mother was nothing like her husband to look at, and you could see which side of the family Vicky favoured. Mrs Robson – Erica – was more delicate, more reserved and had dressed formally for her visiting. She offered me her hand, and when I bent down to shake, I could see the lines round her eyes, and the guarded look in them. She’d had her pain, you could see, and most of the time she hid it well.
I offered to shake hands with her husband, and he complied with some reluctance. ‘I’m called Jack, not John,’ was his concession to social niceties.
Erica sat down, leaving the men stranded until I took a chair across from them and Jack joined his wife. ‘He’s got a point,’ she said. ‘The police are lovely and all, but they won’t say nothing about what happened, and Vicky’s pretending to have amnesia.’
‘She is a bad liar,’ I said.
‘She gets that from her father.’
‘How is she?’
‘A lot better, thanks. She’s young, thank goodness, but she’s been through a lot. Please tell us what happened, Mr Clarke.’
‘Conrad. Please. Your daughter’s a very special young woman, and so is the work she does. What has she told you about her life in London?’
It was tiny, but it was there. Erica’s eyes flicked to her husband, then back to me. She understood; he didn’t. Vicky’s mother was from a family with magick in some degree, and she either knew instinctively about Vicky’s gift, or she’d been told something. Erica folded her hands in her lap and waited for her husband to answer.
‘She told us it was a desk job with the Ministry of Defence,’ said Jack. ‘Either it wasn’t, or you have some very dangerous photocopiers in your line of work.’
‘Vicky is a junior investigator,’ I said, remembering the cover story she’d used with Dr Nicola. ‘She’s been assigned to me for field training and experience. I’m afraid I can’t say any more than that there was a serious incident, that she acted with incredible courage and that she was injured in the line of duty.’
Jack half exploded out of his seat. ‘She’s only a bairn! What was she deein’ out there in the forst place?’
Erica reached out a hand to still him. ‘She’s not a bairn any more, Jack. Do you remember how happy she was when she stayed with us the other week, when she was on her way to Alnwick? I asked if she’d got a boyfriend, but she said she’d got a new boss and that she was loving her work. Don’t you remember that?’
‘Aye, I do, but I’d rather she was bored than dead.’
Erica looked down, and her unspoken response hung in the air: She’d rather do this than be bored.
Jack sat back and rubbed his face with his hand. ‘Were you there? Were you in danger as well?’
‘Look at his head, Jack,’ said Erica. ‘He’s got third degree burns up there, and you know the only thing Vicky said, don’t you? She said that Conrad’s first reaction was to get her to safety.’
‘I owe Vicky my life. Several times over.’
‘Aye, well, that’s all very good, but…’ Jack muttered something under his breath.
‘Thank you,’ said Erica. ‘Thank you for bringing her back to life. In more ways than one.’
My blushes were saved by the entrance of the consultant. When I offered to leave them alone, Jack told me to stay. ‘She insisted you were put on the list as family,’ he said. ‘It’s obvious Vicky likes you and trusts you, but you know what hurts most?’ I could see a smile lurking in his eyes.
‘No?’
‘She said that you could be my younger, better-looking adopted brother. She can be a cruel lass at times.’
‘She also said you were spoken for,’ added Erica, almost wistfully.
‘If you’ve finished?’ said the consultant.
We all sat down and the consultant said, ‘She’s making very good progress. There have been no further abnormalities in over twenty-four hours, and she’s responded very well to treatment. She needs monitoring over the weekend, but I’ve scheduled a full work-up on Sunday afternoon.’ He flashed us a bitter smile. ‘We do work weekends, despite what the government would have you believe. If she gets the all-clear, she can be discharged on Sunday evening, but she’ll need rest for a few days after that.’
‘Oh,’ said Erica.
The consultant ploughed on regardless. ‘She also said you have a full-time job, Mrs Robson, and that she’d prefer to recuperate at a private medical facility called …’ He checked his notes. ‘Elvenham House Convalescent Centre. In Gloucestershire. She said it was covered by her work insurance.’
I had the sense to keep quiet. If Vicky didn’t want her parents knowing that she was volunteering my house as a nursing home and my services as nursemaid, I wasn’t going to disillusion them.
Erica gave an involuntary sigh of relief.
‘We’ll stay until she’s had the tests,’ said Jack, ‘then I’ll drive us home on Sunday evening. Traffic should be quiet then. She’s a lot better, love, you said so yourself, and you’ve got enough on your plate with your mother.’
‘Aye, well. We’ll see.’
The consultant was on his feet and shaking hands before anyone could ask more questions.
When he’d left, Erica said, ‘You see her first, Conrad. She’s seen enough of us. Do you want a cup of tea?’
‘That would be most kind. No sugar, thanks.’
I showed my ID to the armed officer on duty and knocked on the door. The policeman was more for show than anything else. While Vicky was still unconscious, Rick James had rigged Wards around her room to discourage Druidic interference and linked them to a bell. If anyone with magick (except me) crossed the Ward boundary, the bell would ring and the officer was supposed to get on the radio. One of the Watch Captains had also stood guard for the first twelve hours.
Oh, the recuperative powers of youth. Apart from lots of machines and wires running under her gown, Vicky looked no worse than the last time I’d seen her without makeup. She’d even washed her hair this morning. She was sitting up in bed, and opened her arms for a hug when I appeared.
‘Not too hard,’ she said. ‘You’ll knock off the sensors and trigger the alarms.’
I gathered her in my arms and kissed her cheek.
‘Oh my life, Conrad, what’s happened to your head? The officer outside said you weren’t injured.’
‘It’s just awkward, that’s all. It looks worse than it is because I don’t want to wear a dressing and I can’t wear a hat. It’ll heal.’ She was still reaching up to my shoulders, something that wasn’t helping my back. I disengaged gently. ‘You’ve no idea how glad I am to see you.’
‘Why? Were you afraid I’d ruin your record by dying?’
I stood back. ‘Something like that. Just because your heart stopped, it doesn’t give you the right to make me your nurse.’
‘Twice. Me heart stopped twice, Conrad, and I’ve got you to thank for this.’ She pulled down the neck of her gown and showed me a dressing above her right breast. ‘That’s gonna scar, you clumsy bastard, and I’ve got a matching one here.’ She prodded her abdomen and winced. ‘And then there’s the spear cuts on me back. More scars. You owe me big time, Uncle Conrad.’
‘Well at least there’ll be no awkwardness when I give you a blanket bath. After all, I’ve seen your tattoo.’
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br /> ‘You what! Why?’
I shrugged. ‘You were dead. I had to dump you in freezing water to lower your core temperature. Myfanwy’s seen it, too. And technically it was her who gave you the burns, not me.’
‘Aye, well. I’m not gonna thank you, Conrad. That would be too awkward. I’m just glad to see you, too. Now sit down and tell us what happened. All I know is that all our side got out alive and that there’s no need for nuclear bombs.’
I got the visitor’s chair and sat down. ‘What can you remember?’
‘The last thing I remember is smashing that rock into Iorwen’s face.’ Suddenly she looked down. I’d thought the jokes and bravado were because she’d been scared of dying. I was wrong: she thought she’d killed someone.
I took a deep breath and took a big risk with our relationship. ‘Why didn’t you finish her off, Vic?’
‘I was gonna. I tried to draw some magick, but I hadn’t got any. If I’d just dived on top of her, it would have made your life a lot easier. I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.’
Wrong again, Clarke. She thought she’d let me down.
‘Here. This might help. I found them in Rhein’s quad bike.’ I took a package out of my bag and passed over her chain of Doodads.
‘Thank you. You may never know how good that feels.’
‘I’ve got your tablet computer, too, but the battery’s flat.’ I scanned the room. All the available power sockets were running the monitoring machines that surrounded her bed.
‘Leave it over there,’ said Vicky, pointing to a tall, thin wardrobe.
A knock on the door announced Erica and tea. ‘Are youse two gonna be a while?’ she asked.
‘Probably,’ said Vicky.
‘Then we’ll go to the retail park and buy you a new phone, then nip back to the hotel. See you later, pet.’
She kissed her daughter and left us to it.
‘Talking of hotels,’ said Vicky, ‘where’ve you been staying? Not the Usk View, I take it.’
I snorted. ‘No chance, but I am going back to have a word with them tonight. I’ve been living it up in Nyth Eryr, drinking Adaryn’s whisky and raiding her freezer. I did have supper with Helen’s family last night.’
‘Did she take pity on you, pet? Aah.’
‘Do you want to know what happened or not?’
She shifted in the bed, lowering herself down and turning on her side. She winced when one of the burns got pressed down by the sheets. ‘Go on then.’
I started with the end, with the news I’d had on the way to the hospital. ‘Hannah’s got the St David’s Day meeting of the Occult Council postponed for ten days. She said they need to hear our testimony. Apparently the various Circles are abuzz with it all.’ I hesitated. ‘I had a long talk with her about risk. She agrees with me – something’s going on out there. There’s too much crawling out of the woodwork.’
‘Aye. You’re right. One of me tutors once said that there’s a reason why old magick got forgotten: too bloody dangerous. And then people forget why it was forgotten in the first place. I should be back at work by the end of next week, and if you can’t look after me, it’s not a problem.’
‘A week in Elvenham is just what we both need. Where was I? Oh yes, I was saving your tattooed arse…’
I took a break after telling her about the Allfather’s visit, and went for more tea and a fag to give her a rest. I also left her with a box of Adaryn’s hand-made Belgian chocolates. She’d eaten half the box by the time I got back.
When the cavalry had finally arrived at what I now called Bardsholm Farm, we’d split into teams. Rick and Helen had gone in search of Adaryn and the Range Rover crew, while the Watch Captains and I cleaned up at the farm. One of the many mysteries we might never solve was the identity of the farmer. Helen had come up yesterday and taken fingerprints from the agricultural equipment, but their owner wasn’t on the system. With Harry Evans’ help, we’d discovered that the farm was originally owned by the great Bard Owain’s aunt, and her family before her. It had been a secret Druid refuge for generations, and Owain had worked to restore some of the magickal legacy, as well as modernising the farmhouse. Adaryn had quietly inherited it and what she’d done to the actual Bardsholm mound was being investigated. At my suggestion, Hannah had declared the farm forfeit to the Crown, then promptly gifted it to MADOC in trust for the use of all Druids.
The Range Rover turned out to have been registered to Adaryn, and we found it abandoned at Nyth Eryr along with her Audi. The engine was still warm when Rick arrived, but Adaryn, her giant harp and all her magick were gone. I’d tried to get Hannah to put out an alert with the Border Force, but she refused. ‘One day, Conrad,’ she’d said, ‘but not today. Too dangerous.’
When we finally tracked down Iorwen’s base of operations (thanks to Myfanwy), that, too, had been emptied of magick.
‘Do you think Adaryn’s still in the UK?’ said Vicky.
‘No. Ruth Kaplan rang me to say that Adaryn took the 07:30 Eurostar to Paris this morning. She’ll be back, Vic, but not for a long while.’
‘So that’s it? All over?’
‘Not quite. When I got to Nyth Eryr, I opened the door to that Range Rover, and it reeked of pipe smoke. You’re the only one who knows this, but I’m going to make discreet enquiries through Chris Kelly when we get back. We’ve got the phantom Geomancer’s fingerprints, too, both mundane and magickal.’
‘Good.’
I could see that she was getting very tired. It was time to cheer her up and leave.
‘Now for the fun part. Ready?’ She gave me a weak nod, and I took a fat brown envelope out of my bag and held it up. ‘Nyth Eryr is going to MADOC, as are all the Brotherhood’s properties, but these are ours.’
I tipped a bunch of keys on the bed. ‘Take your pick. We’ve got a Range Rover Sport, a Volvo XC90, the scabby Golf, Surwen’s Mercedes and this.’ I held up an Audi keyring. ‘Adaryn’s Audi TTRS Convertible. Happy birthday, Vic.’
She took the keys from me and leaned forward with a huge effort to wrap her arm round my shoulder. ‘Thanks, Conrad. You’re definitely me favourite uncle now. I don’t know how you’ll top that in September when me real birthday comes round.’
She flopped back on the bed, exhausted, but gripping the TT keys in her hand.
‘Is it OK to give Helen the Range Rover? We couldn’t have done that without her.’
‘Hell, aye. Of course.’
I scooped up the remaining keys. ‘One last thing. I’m also giving Helen one of these. You need one, too.’ I passed her a small object and she forced her eyes open. ‘Helen’s lad knocked them up yesterday. He’s a whizz at this sort of thing.’
She peered at the metal disk. It was a pin-on badge with a drawing of a castle on a hill, and the words Merlyn’s Tower Irregulars around the outside.
She groaned. ‘I can’t leave you alone for five minutes, can I? Get out before I throw it at you.’
She was asleep before I got to the door.
The coach carrying the East Valley RUFC Veterans team bounced towards me down the access road. The driver had a pained look on his face which was explained when he killed the engine and I heard them singing. I sincerely hoped that their voices improved with alcohol.
Gareth climbed down the steps and joined me at the back of the car. My own car, not one of the fleet of expensive 4x4s I’d acquired recently. The journey to the Usk valley had put him in a good mood, and he gave me a big grin as he shook my hand, then patted the red jersey stretched tight over his ample waist. ‘I’m starving, Conrad. Are you sure about this?’
We turned to look at the firmly locked oak doors of the Usk View Hotel. ‘Tell the driver to park down by that fallen tree. We don’t want any witnesses or awkward questions.’
While Gareth passed on the message, I opened the tailgate and moved the blanket. I hefted the felling axe on to my shoulder and waited for Gareth to rejoin me. He shook his head when he saw the axe, but kept his peace.
I walked slowly up to the front of the hotel and used the head of the axe to beat three times on the doors, then counted to ten. The fallen tree where I’d sent the coach had been standing when I arrived half an hour ago. It was dead and due for felling anyway, so I’d taken the chance for some practice with the axe and with a little Enhancement. Half way through my exertions, two cars with French number plates had left the hotel, a look of bewildered fury on the two families’ faces. Good.
The Usk View Hotel is not a castle. The wooden doors – never normally closed – were solid enough to deter your average bailiff or burglar, but they were no match for a mad axeman. I stroked the blade of the axe and gave it the little magickal tweak that Rick James had shown me last night.
‘Stand back, Gareth,’ I said, and swung the axe round over my head. It struck the wood with a crack, cleaving the timbers and striking the metal bar that was keeping them closed. I brought it round for another swing, and this time it broke the bar right off. I balanced on my bad leg and kicked the doors open. Clara and her husband were cowering at the other end of the hall.
She was gripping her man and, to give him credit, he was putting himself between me and Clara. I walked slowly towards them and, ignoring the husband, I pointed the axe at Clara. ‘You betrayed us. We were your guests, and you sold us out to Adaryn.’
‘I’ve called the police,’ said the husband.
‘I know. They rang Inspector Williams, who’s on the bus, to see if everything was OK. He said it was, and the control room marked it No Action Required. It’s not you I have a problem with, old chum, it’s her.’
‘What are you going to do?’
I rested the axe on the floor and put my hands on the end of the haft. ‘Grovel, Clara. On your knees.’
‘What? You’re mad!’ said the husband.
Clara blinked and let go of him. Very slowly, she pushed him aside and knelt down. ‘Forgive me, Mr Clarke.’