by D. J. McCune
Adam tried to imagine Auntie Jo at Chloe’s age and felt a pang of curiosity. After all, once upon a time she must have seemed like any other Luman daughter, not the quirky character she was now. What had she been like? Had she been pretty? He thought about the locket round Auntie Jo’s neck and the picture inside. There was something familiar about the young man in the photo. Had Adam met him before? He must have been Auntie Jo’s intended husband but for some reason they hadn’t ended up betrothed. Maybe he had ended up marrying someone else. Could he be one of the Lumen here this evening?
His musings were interrupted by Chloe’s arrival. She looked hot and bothered but pleased too as she slid onto the bench beside Auntie Jo. ‘I thought I was never going to sit down. My feet are killing me.’ She gave her gold sandals a baleful glance.
Luc smirked. ‘Don’t get too comfy. You’re going to have to dance soon.’
Chloe swore under her breath. ‘Don’t remind me. One of the Chinese Lumen made me promise him the first dance. I tried to get out of it but he’s like some kind of stalker.’
Auntie Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘The Chinese Lumen are big players. Your mother will be delighted.’
Chloe scowled. ‘I don’t want to live in China. I want to stay somewhere close to Britain.’
Auntie Jo shrugged. ‘Britain is a small Kingdom. There are more souls in a small Chinese Kingdom than most of Europe put together. You’d be top of the pile if you married a Chinese Luman.’
‘Yeah, and it doesn’t matter where you are when you can swoop anyway,’ Luc said logically. ‘I mean, it’s not like it would take you long to come home for a visit. As long as you were allowed to.’
Adam looked at the sudden tightness in Chloe’s face and felt sorry for her. She was thirteen years old. She shouldn’t be worrying about having to move to the other side of the world. Their world was mad. Totally mad! ‘Maybe you’ll still get betrothed to Ciaron,’ he said, trying to sound encouraging.
Luc shook his head. ‘Mother will never allow it. Trust me, she wants you to be Luman royalty. Ireland’s tiny. She’ll want you somewhere like India or America at the very least.’
Chloe scowled. ‘Yeah, well, Father likes Ciaron. And it’s up to him anyway, not Mother.’
Auntie Jo was forking up the last mouthfuls from Adam’s plate. ‘Don’t worry about all that tonight Chloe. Just try and enjoy yourself.’
‘Have you even managed to talk to Ciaron yet?’ Adam asked innocently.
‘How am I supposed to talk to him when I have to sit with you lot?’ Chloe snapped. She looked close to tears. ‘I’ll talk to him later.’ She stood up abruptly, almost tripping over her long skirts. ‘I hate these shoes!’
They watched her retreat in silence. Auntie Jo sighed. ‘Welcome to the wonderful world of Luman womanhood,’ she muttered and emptied her wine glass.
Chloe’s abrupt departure left them all feeling subdued – and in Adam’s case guilty. He was rubbish at being a Luman and resented every call-out – but at least he had some control over where he would live and work. Chloe would probably be a far better Luman than him – but just because she was a girl she didn’t get that choice. What would it be like, knowing you had to leave your home and marry a virtual stranger?
Of course, Adam realised with a sudden chill, he would be able to stay in Britain but he would still have to marry a stranger when the time came. Male Lumen generally got betrothed when they were slightly older than female Lumen – but by the time Adam was Aron’s age he’d be seriously expected to have a future bride in mind. How was he going to break that to Melissa if things worked out between them? He gulped at the thought of explaining that under her laser-eyed scrutiny …
He was glad when they were finally able to leave the tables and make their way into the packed ballroom. The room looked amazing. The sprung wooden floor glowed beneath the crystal chandeliers and hundreds of candles burned along the walls. A stage had been erected at one end for the band to play. All of the band members were male Lumen from minor families. By playing at balls they could get their families invited to events they would otherwise be excluded from – and give their children a chance at raising their status.
Adam felt a sudden, passionate dislike for the Luman world. The whole thing was sick. Here he was, swanning around, being eyed by girls who didn’t know him just because his father was High Luman and they had loads of Keystones. Did his potential admirers even know that he couldn’t guide a soul without throwing up? Or were they just as suckered in by the Mortson name as everyone else?
Luc of course was in his element. ‘Babes everywhere. I don’t even know where to start.’
Adam snorted. ‘Yeah, but this isn’t like Cryptique. You can’t just cop off with someone and get away with it. You’ll end up betrothed before you even know what’s happening.’
Luc gave an airy shrug. ‘Well, on the bright side, if it’s not like Cryptique I don’t need to worry about you throwing up on someone’s feet. Anyway, trust me. I know how to keep the mothers on side.’
‘It’s the fathers you need to worry about,’ Adam muttered. It was fair to say that Lumen took their daughters’ prospects seriously. In his book it didn’t make sense to annoy someone who could send your soul straight into the afterlife.
Auntie Jo was standing on tiptoe peering towards the stage. ‘Well, your parents are ready to start the dancing. I wonder who Aron’s going to choose for his first dance.’
Adam stared curiously at the front of the ballroom. As hosts his parents would lead the dancing, joined by the Concilium – but tradition decreed that the newest Marked Luman would be one of the first on the floor. Every guest would be watching feverishly to see who he would choose as a partner. After all, this could be the first step on the road to betrothal.
An elbow hit him in the ribs. ‘It’s Monobrow!’ Luc whispered ecstatically, pointing across the room. ‘She came! You’re all set for romance, bro!’ He nodded towards the girl from the Summoning.
Adam looked at her with a mixture of horror and guilt. She was wearing a bright orange dress the size of a car and had her hair piled up in curls beneath some kind of tiara – but nothing could really distract attention away from that unfortunate eyebrow.
The Lumen on the stage were picking up their instruments and the band leader raised an eyebrow at Elise, who nodded discreetly. As the first notes swelled out Nathanial bowed formally to his wife and took her hand, leading her into a waltz. The married members of the Concilium offered their hands to their own wives – but all eyes were on a furiously blushing Aron. After a moment’s hesitation he approached a pretty Indian Luman in a sari and jewelled sandals. She stood rooted to the spot for a moment, shrinking beneath the envious or amused gaze of the crowd, but managed to take Aron’s hand and follow him onto the dance floor.
There was only one unmarried member of the Concilium and he was looking around the ballroom with an expression of unbridled resentment. He seemed to be searching for someone. At the same moment Auntie Jo cursed loudly enough to make several Lumen look around in surprise. ‘Oh, he wouldn’t dare! The little snake! I refuse!’
Adam and Luc watched with a mixture of horror and delight as Darian approached Auntie Jo. His expression would have curdled milk – but protocol was protocol. Auntie Jo was unmarried and the sister of their host – and technically available. The fact that they hated the sight of one another was entirely beside the point. In fairness, the last time they had met Auntie Jo had revealed to the whole room that he had unsuccessfully wooed Elise. Clearly the memory was still etched into his psyche. As he reached them he gave a bow so stiff his spine almost snapped. ‘May I have the … honour … of this dance?’
Auntie Jo had frozen. She was usually the master of the pithy comeback but for once she’d been blindsided. She revved furiously in neutral for a moment, then sighed heavily, realising she was trapped. Even Auntie Jo wouldn’t humiliate a Curator at a Marking ball. ‘Erm, yeah. All right.’
Adam sniggered and t
ried to turn it into a cough. It wasn’t the most gracious acceptance. He watched Darian grit his teeth and whirl Auntie Jo into the centre of the dance floor. At the front of the room Nathanial was dancing with Elise. She was smiling up at him. For a moment Adam could almost imagine them at ball like this one twenty years earlier, both of them only a little older than he was now. He felt a curdling mixture of embarrassment and affection.
Luc rubbed his hands together. ‘Time to go a-hunting. Don’t wait too long or you’ll be left with the dregs … ’ He darted off sideways, his eye clearly set on someone – and a moment later re-emerged with a blonde Californian beauty.
Left alone Adam gulped and risked a cautious peek around. Everywhere he looked there were girls hoping for a dance, watched beadily by parents. A few of the nearest girls eyed him hungrily. He felt like a worm at the centre of a flock of very hungry chickens.
There was a delicate cough beside him. ‘Bonsoir, Adam,’ a sweet voice intoned. He turned and found himself looking at a pretty girl with blonde hair and brown eyes. Her hair was piled into an elaborate mop of curls and she was wearing a dress that resembled a dessert; a frothing mixture of white net and satin. ‘Don’t tell me you don’t remember me?’
Adam stared blankly at her for a second, then felt his jaw drop with sudden recognition. ‘Marianne! Wow, you look … different!’ He cleared his throat, feeling desperately awkward. He knew Marianne was some kind of cousin a few times removed – but the last time he’d seen her she’d been a snot-nosed kid having a tantrum at their French grandmother’s house. Somehow she had morphed into a porcelain doll.
There were no tears or howls of wrath tonight. Marianne seemed perfectly composed. ‘But of course! It has been too long, dear Adam. You look très beau. Very handsome. And what lovely music.’ She smiled expectantly.
It took Adam a minute to realise what she wanted. ‘Oh yeah. Erm … do you want to dance?’
Marianne’s eyes widened to saucer size. ‘Why yes, how lovely!’ She managed to sound surprised even though it had blatantly been her plan all along.
There was a moment of fumbling awkwardness as Adam wrestled her into a dancing stance. Happily his lessons with Madame Gauche-Pieds hadn’t been wasted all those years ago. Marianne was a good dancer but the whole thing felt so contrived. It had been much more fun dancing with Melissa in Cryptique – even if Michael Bulber had managed to bring the evening to an unromantic conclusion. At least Melissa had wanted him there because she knew him, not just because his surname was Mortson.
Time had a funny way of moving faster when there was music on, Adam realised a while later. He was on to his fourth dance partner; he’d never been so popular with the ladies. Marianne had been reluctant to let him go and had made him swear they would dance again before the night was over.
At least dancing meant he got a good view of everything. Auntie Jo had escaped Darian’s clutches (or vice versa) and was being squired around the floor by the ever-gallant Heinrich. Darian was circling Elise, ignoring his partner completely, clearly lying in wait for an opportunity to pounce on the object of his devotion. It was a slightly gross realisation for Adam that someone fancied his mother that much. Luc was dancing with a succession of model types while Aron seemed to keep returning to the pretty Indian girl he’d first danced with.
And at last Chloe had managed to pair up with Ciaron. Adam watched him sourly without knowing why. Ciaron was just too sickeningly perfect. He was tall and broad-shouldered with wavy dark hair and the heroic good looks of some mythological Irish king. He could just imagine Ciaron guiding people onto the Unknown Roads with that lilting accent … He probably managed to make the directions sound like poetry.
Still, at least Chloe looked happy. She was chatting animatedly, her cheeks flushed. And Ciaron was listening to her, nodding and grinning with those perfect white teeth. Elise had spotted them too and was frowning slightly as she danced with Rashid, an Indian Luman who was one of the youngest Curators. Adam smirked. She was trapped for now and Chloe could enjoy her dance without interruption.
But after another few dances Adam was getting restless. The ballroom was heaving and the air was hot. There were no windows in the underground room and Adam began to feel stifled. The music was so loud it was hard to make conversation with his dance partner without putting his mouth right against her ear – and he didn’t want her to get the wrong idea. The only girl he really wanted here was the one person he would never be allowed to bring into his world – and that was Melissa.
The dance ended. His dance partner’s disappointed face only piqued his resentment. Worse still he could see that Darian had finally managed to get his hands on Elise and was pulling her in much closer than was considered polite. Adam frowned, hoping that the ceremonial swords didn’t end up coming out to play.
The final nail in the coffin was hearing a French accent calling his name. ‘Adam! My dance! It is time for our next dance, oui?’ Marianne was fighting her way towards him. For someone so dainty she was moving like a rhino through the reeds, barging through the gathered Lumen. Even thinking about another dance and her not-so-subtle hints was making Adam feel light-headed.
He needed air. Pretending not to see her (and feeling only a tiny bit guilty), Adam turned on his heel and fled.
It took a few minutes to weave and dodge through the crowds but finally Adam found himself outside the Oath Chamber. The air was cooler here but he had a desperate urge to be above ground for a while. The corridor behind him was empty and he darted up the stairs and through the cellar doors, emerging on the lawn in the shadow of the yew trees.
There was a terrifying growl – followed, thankfully, by a happy yelp of recognition. Sam and Morty bounded towards him, their tails wagging madly. They had been left above ground on sentry duty and they were happy to see him, sniffing at his pockets for treats. Adam petted them roughly, basking in their simple, undemanding affection. They didn’t care that he wasn’t smooth with the ladies, or that he was a rubbish Luman. They just adored him. It was nice to have some true fans.
He set off across the grass, round the side of the house towards the kitchen door, planning to get them something tasty from the fridge. Just as he reached the back door Morty stopped and went still. He gave a low growl and stared into the darkness towards the paddock.
Adam hesitated, his hand on the kitchen door handle. He shouldn’t have left the party – but maybe he wasn’t the only one who’d needed some fresh air. Was Marianne that desperate to claim her dance? He squinted into the darkness, wondering whether to make a run for it or go back and accept his fate gracefully.
Morty growled again and this time Sam joined him. The weird thing was that neither dog set off in pursuit of whatever was bothering them. Sam’s growl tailed off into a whine – and with a start Adam realised that they were afraid.
There was a sudden, soft crunch of footsteps on the gravel drive up ahead of him. A shadow passed along the hedge; a dark figure, cloaked in black. Morty gave a small yelp of terror and both dogs turned on their heels and fled back towards the front of the house.
Adam stood rigid with shock. The wolfhounds weren’t just family pets; they were working dogs, trained to herd souls in the Hinterland. They weren’t easily spooked – but something was scaring them so badly they had abandoned him in the darkness. For a moment he hesitated, wondering if he should return to the party and get some back-up – but then he was going to have to explain why he was above ground in the first place and listen to Elise’s lecture on good manners. He’d rather face whatever unknown terror was waiting in the darkness.
Still, it would have been nice to have some company. ‘Thanks a lot,’ he muttered over his shoulder at the dogs, who were no doubt hunkered down somewhere safe by now.
He moved stealthily along the hedge, trying to walk lightly on the gravel, listening for any sounds – but the figure had disappeared into the paddock and their footsteps were muffled on the long grass. As he reached the end of the hedge, he hesit
ated. Who was there? It might be a Luman – but then why would they be sneaking about above ground? His immediate distrustful thought was that Darian was up to no good – but there was no way Darian would miss out on his dance with Elise.
He moved across the grass in silence, wishing he had his ceremonial cloak on. His white shirt was like a beacon in the darkness. He paused between the yews, listening for any sound but all he could hear was the hiss of the night breeze through the leaves and grass.
The last thing he expected was the voice right behind him.
Chapter 13
I have waited for you, Adam Mortson.’
Adam spun round and backed away in one stumbling motion, frightened and furious at getting caught. He’d turned from hunter to prey in the blink of an eye. He squinted into the darkness, searching for a shadow. ‘Who’s there? Show yourself!’
There was the faintest trace of movement in front of him. ‘Do not be afraid. I mean you no ill will.’
Adam frowned. Hearing the voice again … he was sure he’d heard it before. It was a woman’s voice, soft and pleasant – although still pretty freaky in the dark. ‘Who are you? How do you know me?’
His eyes were adjusting to the light now and this time he saw a definite movement; an arm rising through the air. At the same time the faintest hint of a glow appeared, illuminating a hand. The glow spread, casting a pale light on a figure in front of him – small, hooded in a black cloak, just the tips of her blonde hair shimmering beneath the heavy fabric.
Adam stared, for once speechless. He was having trouble believing what he was seeing – or rather who he was seeing. ‘You’re … I know you. You’re that Fate!’
The woman smiled, just as she had at the Summoning – shyly. ‘Yes. I am Clotho, the spinner.’
Adam wanted to shake his head until his eyes rattled and the world made sense again. ‘But … you’re here.’