The Mortal Knife

by D. J. McCune

  When he first saw the picture appear on Spike’s laptop screen Adam had almost thrown up with sheer terror. He couldn’t believe what he was seeing. But after the initial shock a kind of survival instinct had kicked in and left him with just one thought: get rid of the photo. Get rid of the evidence – but not without getting a copy himself first.

  He had been expecting Spike to walk back in at any second. As he plugged his memory stick into Spike’s laptop he could see his hands shaking and feel the awful, giddy rush of his heart beating. He dragged the photo onto the memory stick and was just about to delete it when another thought had occurred to him. It was all very well having the photo but where had it come from? What was the source? And how had it ended up on the web in the first place?

  Fear and his need to know had fought frantically. In the end Adam’s curiosity forced him to gamble that he had just a little more time. He clicked on the photo and let it link him to the source page. He had wanted to solve the mystery there and then but there wasn’t time. He took a screen shot and dragged it onto the stick, then pulled it out. He was just deleting the picture when the lab door opened and a scowling Spike returned. He presented Mrs Suresh with an envelope and a filthy look – but it didn’t stop him noticing that Adam was hovering over the computer.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  Adam had breathed in slowly, hoping his voice wouldn’t betray him. He’d managed to close the page – but not to delete it from the browser history. ‘Nothing. I just thought I recognised someone.’ He pointed at the picture of the boy at his bar mitzvah, trying to sound disinterested. ‘I just thought I knew his face but I don’t.’

  Spike snorted. ‘Yeah. That would be a pretty big coincidence.’

  Yeah, wouldn’t it just, Adam had thought bitterly. Last week he’d been feeling like everything was going his way. This week the tide was turning on him.

  The last twenty minutes of the revision class had passed in a daze and he almost screamed with relief when he finally got out of the lab. But Adam hadn’t been able to go straight home. Instead he made his excuses to Spike, checked the coast was clear and scurried into the library. Only the sixth formers were supposed to stay after school but the few who were there were too busy with their own stuff to notice Adam slip in and quietly boot up the computer and printer. Half an hour later he’d been on the bus home, his mind a blur.

  And now here he was, lying on his bed and looking at the source of his misery and confusion. He’d recognised the faces immediately – or two of them anyway. His father and Auntie Jo were recognisably themselves, albeit much younger versions. His father looked like he was barely out of his teens. Seeing Auntie Jo was a shock. Whenever the photo had been taken she hadn’t been wearing a kaftan but some kind of summery dress with her dark hair pulled back off her face. She wasn’t thin but she was much slimmer and her eyes were sparkling above a wicked smile. She was pretty. It felt weird seeing her because something about her – a kind of playfulness – reminded Adam of Melissa. His aunt was in the middle of the photo, Nathanial’s arm slung round her shoulders. On the other side she clasped the arm of the unknown man; the man Adam had always wondered about and whose face he was poring over now. The man in the locket.

  His hair was dark, although not as dark as Nathanial’s. He had a pale, thin face and very blue eyes. His pose was relaxed and like the others he was smiling – but there was a hint of something else around his mouth, something sad. His eyes were watchful and haunted. He looked like a man trying very hard to be happy and not quite succeeding.

  In contrast Nathanial looked happier than Adam had ever seen him. There was no trace of the tiredness in his face or the careworn stoop Adam sometimes saw in his shoulders when he thought no one was watching. He stared straight into the camera, grinning broadly. Strangely, his pose reminded Adam of Luc; the same hint of barely suppressed swagger. It was eerie. A few months earlier Nathanial had confessed that he had dreamed of being a race car driver. At the time Adam had scoffed at the thought of his kindly, conscientious father doing anything so dangerous – but it didn’t seem as ridiculous an idea for this Nathanial.

  And as for Auntie Jo … she was glowing. Something about being beside Nathanial and the mystery man made her light up like a torch. She wore his picture in the locket around her neck. He must be the man she was once supposed to marry. But who was he?

  Or, to be more accurate, who had he once been? Adam moved the photo printout to one side and looked at the second page, feeling sombre. This was the reason the photo was on the web in the first place, in defiance of the ban on online photos. He studied the screenshot, knowing he was intruding on something he had never been supposed to see.

  The picture was from an online memorial website. The post was simple and anonymous – the photograph and a few lines of text – but Adam could guess who had written it by the date. It had been posted a couple of weeks earlier on the 19th of March – the day Auntie Jo had been sobbing in her room, drunk and miserable enough to throw caution to the winds and ignore their laws.

  My grief is darkness but Lucian: you were our light. You were real; you existed. We do not forget. For now we must not speak your name – but we are not ashamed. We may not understand but we love you still. Some day we will meet again because our Light is your Light.

  Adam stared at the printout for a long time, trying to will it to reveal its secrets. Who was Lucian? What had happened to him? Obviously he had died and walked through his Light onto the Unknown Roads. But why? He was young and Lumen rarely took ill or died young – their keystones seemed to protect them. In the photo he looked only a few years older than Nathanial.

  And why would his life – or death – be a cause for shame? When a Luman died he would be guided into his Light with a family Keystone, passing through onto the Unknown Roads and returning briefly to hand over a freshly ‘charged’ Keystone and pass on any wisdom that could be added to The Book of the Unknown Roads. Guiding a dead Luman was an honour and a source of pride; a last chance to say thank you after a life of service. The Mortsons were an old family and if Auntie Jo had been betrothed to this man then he must have been from a good family too. None of it made any sense.

  There was a knock on the bedroom door. Adam scrambled to hide the papers under his duvet as Chloe walked in. She gave him a knowing look. ‘Don’t worry. I won’t even ask. Every time I have to go into Luc or Aron’s room they hide stuff too. You lot are disgusting.’

  Adam scowled, unable to deny anything in case she demanded to see what he did have. ‘What do you want?’

  ‘Dinner will be ready in ten minutes. It’s late tonight because Father had a call-out.’ From her sing-song tone Chloe had obviously delivered the message to everyone else.

  ‘How many call-outs were there today?’

  Chloe shrugged. ‘Just a few. Nothing out of the ordinary. Luc went along because Aron wanted a day off.’

  Adam relaxed back into the pillows, feeling a twinge of guilty relief. With everything else going on he’d forgotten about Luc’s fatal attraction for Morta. At least if he was going on call-outs he wasn’t off doing anything stupid. Chloe was almost out of the door when Adam called her back. ‘So what did you do all day?’

  Chloe turned and gave him a withering look. ‘What’s it to you?’

  Adam wasn’t sure why he’d asked. It had been an impulsive question and one he was already regretting because Chloe’s expression could have curdled milk. Still, now that he thought about it, Chloe might be the way to find out more about the mystery man. She spent most of her time hanging out with Elise and Auntie Jo. Surely they must talk about stuff? Chloe, he realised with a start, was an untapped mine of information. After all, she was the one who had told him about Auntie Jo’s annual bout of melancholy. What other secrets did she know? ‘I’m just interested.’

  Chloe sighed. ‘Well, Adam, let me think about it. Today I practised the piano while Mother picked every note apart. Then I made watercress and anchovy soup, which was a
s disgusting as it sounds, and then I had some tapestry practice and finished embroidering a handkerchief for Father. And then I went out with Mother and watched her terrorise the butcher until he found her the exact piece of meat she wanted because it had to be perfect.’ She rolled her eyes but her shoulders drooped. ‘Just another Monday.’

  Adam blinked, unsure what to say. He’d been expecting something along the lines of, We all had lunch and went shopping and Auntie Jo told me loads of stuff about the past and it was a brilliant day! Things always worked out better in his head than they did in real life. ‘Anything happening on the betrothal front?’

  ‘No!’ Chloe’s eyes had gone laser. ‘Why do you keep going on about it? I don’t have to do anything yet. Father told me not to rush into anything.’

  Adam held his hands up, trying to appease her. ‘OK, sorry! I was just asking!’

  Chloe glared at him for a moment until she seemed to realise that he wasn’t tormenting her. She hovered at the door, looking uncomfortable. ‘Mother keeps telling me I should get betrothed to a Chinese Luman because they have so many souls. Either that or a French Luman. I don’t know why she goes on about France so much. It’s not like we go there very often so why does she want to marry me off there?’

  To make peace, Adam realised with a sudden moment of clarity. It was like something out of his history class; all those warring kings and queens marrying their children off as bribes and peace offerings. Elise had betrayed her family in their eyes and now she was trying to find her way back. But having married for love herself, there was no way she would try to force Chloe into a betrothal she didn’t want. He knew that in his gut. ‘She won’t make you do it. Trust me, she really won’t.’

  Chloe looked at him curiously. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘I just do.’ Adam shrugged. ‘What does Auntie Jo say about it all?’

  ‘Auntie Jo doesn’t say much to anybody these days.’ Chloe’s face darkened. ‘She pretty much lives in the den.’

  This wasn’t really news to Adam. Toast and horror movies were the twin joys of Auntie Jo’s existence. ‘I thought she’d talk to you about Ciaron and stuff. I mean, I thought she was betrothed once?’

  ‘She doesn’t talk about it if she was. I don’t want to end up like her though.’ Chloe shuddered. ‘I’ll get betrothed to anybody rather than end up like that.’

  ‘There’s nothing wrong with Auntie Jo!’ Adam felt a quick flare of anger. Why couldn’t Chloe see that Auntie Jo cared as much about them as their parents did? Maybe she even cared more.

  ‘Nothing wrong with her?’ Chloe sounded incredulous. ‘She sits there all day with her whisky bottle for company. You don’t see anything wrong with that?’

  ‘So she likes a drink!’ Adam retorted, trying to ignore the prickle of unease he felt hearing this.

  Chloe gave him a pitying look. ‘Yeah, Adam. She likes a drink. She likes a drink the same way a junkie likes a fix. But you know, whatever.’ She held her hand up, angry. ‘Nobody listens to me anyway. I’ve told Father and he just disappears into his study. I told Mother too and she shouted at me. What am I supposed to do? Maybe I should just get betrothed and then I could go and live somewhere else, away from this nut house!’ She stomped out, slamming his bedroom door behind her.

  Adam looked at the door for a moment, then pulled out the pictures from under the duvet. He stared for a moment at Nathanial and Auntie Jo, their smiling, untroubled faces seeming to admonish him.

  Things had been going so well. So why did it feel like his whole world was beginning to unravel?

  As so often happened, when things went wrong they started small and snowballed from there. That evening at the dinner table Adam found it hard to eat. Everyone else was in a good mood, delighted to have another meal without being interrupted by a call-out. For Adam it was torture. He tried to focus on his plate but his eyes kept darting between his parents and Auntie Jo. He hated the thought that they were keeping secrets. It made him feel sick.

  His plan for the days ahead had been simple. Get caught up on all his work. Spend some time with Melissa and enjoy the art show. Keep an eye on Luc and hope that Morta left them in peace for just a little longer. There were only two weeks of school left before Easter and then he could watch his wily brother twenty-four hours a day if necessary.

  But now everything had changed. After dinner he made his excuses and fled upstairs, not wanting to spend an evening hanging out with Auntie Jo in the den. He didn’t know what to say to her. He didn’t even know who she was any more, when he looked at the photograph of who she’d once been.

  Chloe was right – Auntie Jo was drinking too much. Way too much. Before, her hip flask had just seemed like a quirk; something as much a part of her as kaftans and toast. But recently she was drinking more than ever before – and that was only what he was seeing in the evenings. She could be drinking all day long when he was at school. So why was no one doing anything? Why did they think that was just how she was? She hadn’t always been like that.

  The mystery man was gnawing away at Adam. There was something so familiar about him. He pored over the photo, hoping inspiration would strike. Whoever he was, Auntie Jo had loved him – and whatever he had done, he was still a Luman. It seemed wrong that no one could talk about him or honour him. In his room Adam booted up his laptop and studied the memorial site, reading Auntie Jo’s words: We do not forget … we are not ashamed … our Light is your Light. He clicked the comment button and watched his anonymous reply appear on the screen: Our Light is his Light.

  Normally school was his refuge when things got crazy. But as Adam walked up the long school driveway on Tuesday morning he felt queasy. He was dreading seeing Spike. When he had a plan his friend was like a dog with a bone. There was no stopping him. It had been stupid deleting the picture; he realised that now. The photo didn’t mean anything to Spike. He didn’t know it was Adam’s family. It had probably just picked up a hint of Adam’s jawline in Nathanial or even Auntie Jo. Besides, it was still out there on the web. There was no way for Adam to delete it. All he could hope was that a billion other pictures would keep the programme busy.

  He calmed down a bit in registration when he saw Melissa. She smiled and gave him a little wave across the desk. He grinned back at her. He wasn’t up to playing it cool, the way Luc did. All that ‘treat them mean’ stuff seemed crazy. Maybe it worked on some girls – but Melissa was cool. If you ‘treated her mean’ she’d probably tell you where to stick it. He really wanted to get some more time to just hang out this week. He knew she was busy getting ready for the art show but every time he kissed her the world came back into alignment.

  As it turned out, he was disappointed. Melissa and Archie were both tied up in the art room all through lunch – and for once even Archie was working. Adam made his way to the library to meet Spike and Dan. Spike greeted him like nothing was wrong but Adam’s stomach was still rolling. This time it wasn’t nerves – it was his death sense flaring. It flared again, after lunch and again on the bus home and again as he walked through the gate at home. As he reached the back door Aron was coming out. His face was tense. He jerked his head in greeting and stepped forward, disappearing into the Hinterland.

  There was no need to ask. Adam could feel it in his gut. As the week passed a few more souls died every day. It wasn’t an avalanche yet but it was growing all the time. By Thursday night Aron and Nathanial were alternating call-outs and Elise was tight-lipped with fury as she put their plates in the oven.

  Morta’s reprieve was over – and there was nothing Adam could do.

  Chapter 20

  The day of the art show had finally arrived, providing Adam with a welcome distraction from the miseries of the Luman world and the frequent flares of his death sense. There was a definite buzz of excitement around the school, mainly because the local TV cameras were coming in. The visiting artist had turned out to be the eccentric Luna Kazuna, who had found fame running round London daubing black paint over road sign
s. She said it was to force visitors to stop and see the city in a different way. After painting over a stop sign caused a five-car pile-up she was forced to point her paintbrush in another direction and had ultimately ended up running her own gallery.

  Archie was usually good at pretending not to care about stuff but even he had spent every lunchtime that week perfecting a piece for the display. He was coy about what he’d done but his friends knew it was called ‘Perfect Love’. If it was typical of Archie it was probably going to top shelf rather than romantic.

  Melissa was wired with excitement. Adam was pleased for her – but he was also a bit nervous. What had been supposed to be a school art show was in danger of becoming a media circus. He still hadn’t seen Melissa’s painting. What if it ended up splashed all over the television? Having survived her own scandal, there was a real chance Elise would fall down dead if her youngest son appeared on the evening news in a painting called ‘Passion’. All he could do was keep his fingers crossed that Melissa’s picture wouldn’t end up on TV – not that he could ever admit this in a million years.

  By the end of breaktime it seemed like most of the school was loitering out the front of the main building, waiting for their celebrity guest to arrive. The plan was that Luna Kazuna would do the judging first. The chosen pieces would be taken to one side and would then be unveiled for the whole school to see. The artists would get a small prize – and of course, they might also get their work into Luna Kazuna’s gallery.