by D. J. McCune
Spike looked at him with utter coldness. ‘I’m going to find out what it is. I’ll find the photo too. I’ll run the whole search again from start to finish if I have to.’ He turned and walked away.
Adam stood up and called after him. ‘You do that!’ He was shaking. He sat down and breathed out slowly. He hadn’t planned for this. Maybe it had been a mistake deleting the photo and maybe it hadn’t. He didn’t know.
What he did know was that Spike would never find the photo. It was gone. He knew it was gone. Over the weekend he had returned to the memorial page, curious to see if Auntie Jo had seen his comment. He guessed she had because her reaction had been to delete the page and close the account. Her message to Lucian was gone.
By lunchtime he was desperate to see Melissa – but nervous too. She hadn’t been in the day before because of her mum’s hospital appointment. He’d made a special effort to text but she hadn’t replied. Seeing her pale, tense face in registration that morning had already told him what he needed to know.
He found her just where he expected. She was outside the main building, waiting for him. He reached for her hand without a word, lacing his fingers through hers. Her hand felt small and fragile, but she tightened her grip and he felt the warmth and strength beneath her skin. They started walking, silent at first. He waited for her to speak.
She cleared her throat. ‘So my mum has to go back to the hospital again. They want to do more tests. They found something they didn’t like the look of.’
Adam closed his eyes. ‘I’m sorry. But it’s good that they’re being careful. They might just find out that it’s something small.’ Why was he saying this? Why was he lying to her and lying to himself?
‘I don’t think it is good.’ Melissa’s voice was so quiet Adam could hardly hear her. ‘The doctors were being really nice. Like, too nice.’
Adam wanted to throw his arms around her and hold her tight. He wanted to keep away those awful pictures in his mind; Melissa so pale and sad, holding a sick woman’s hand. He stopped and turned towards her. ‘Let them do the tests first before you start worrying.’
Melissa nodded. ‘She’s going back next week. She won’t let me go. My aunt will be off work this time so she’s going to go with her.’ She let her head fall forward and rest on Adam’s shoulder. ‘I have to go to my friend’s funeral next week too. My friend from work.’ She looked up and gave him a watery smile. ‘Happy holidays.’
Adam didn’t know what to say. Instead, he kissed her. Her mouth was warm and soft and when he put his arms around her she pulled him in tight against her, hugging him fiercely. He felt her tongue brush against his and a wave of fire ran through his whole body. He pulled her in tighter, until there was no air left between them and kissed her harder, and harder, until he felt dizzy.
It was hard to tell who ended the kiss first. They shifted apart but not too far. Could she feel his heart beating? Her face tipped up and her eyes were huge and happier. Adam dropped a kiss on the end of her nose.
Melissa smiled. ‘I was thinking we should meet up over the holidays? There’s a really nice park near Alter-Eden. I could meet you after my shift on Tuesday.’
Adam’s heart plummeted. He tried to keep his face expressionless. ‘I’d really like to but I don’t know if I can.’
She shrugged. ‘That’s OK. What about another day?’
‘I have to do stuff over the holidays. With my family.’ It wasn’t a lie. It just wasn’t the whole truth.
‘Every single day?’
‘Yeah, pretty much.’ Her smile had faded. Adam felt a bolt of misery. ‘I can ring you though. I’ll ring you whenever I can.’
Melissa pulled away. He saw the flash of hurt and disappointment before she made her face impassive. ‘OK.’
For a second Adam longed to tell her everything. Everything. Everything about his messed-up life, his messed-up family, the whole messed-up Luman world. The urge was so strong it crushed his chest, making it hard to breathe. He caught her hand, willing her to see how he felt about her. ‘I want to see you. If I can get away I will. I promise.’
Melissa shook her head, bewildered. ‘I don’t get your family. Sometimes you make it sound like you’re a prisoner when you’re not at school.’
Adam looked at the ground. ‘It’s not like that. It’s not their fault. It’s just … complicated.’ It was too hard to find words. He kissed her again, before he could blurt out something stupid.
But this time she pulled away. Her face was sad. ‘Sometimes I feel like I could tell you anything. But sometimes … I feel like I don’t even know you. Like you’re keeping some big secret from me.’
Hearing this for the second time in one day made Adam want to weep. Instead, he reached for her other hand and pulled her in as close as he dared; close enough that he couldn’t see her face. Close enough to put his lips against her ear and whisper. ‘I tell you everything I can. It just … takes a while to get to know me. Just … trust me. Please. Trust me.’
The bell rang in the distance. When Adam found the courage to look at her again she met his eyes for a long time, searching for something. Finally she nodded. ‘I do trust you. And if you want to do something over the holidays … you know where I am.’ She stretched up and kissed him one more time.
Adam tried to freeze the moment in his head – her scent, her warmth, the way her mouth felt against his. As she walked away he couldn’t help wondering if that had been their last kiss.
Adam was angry and depressed by the time he got home from school. Standing at the iron gate, he felt a momentary hatred for everything beyond it. He placed his palm on the electronic security pad, resisting the urge to punch it. He kicked his way up the path and when Sam and Morty came to greet him, he let them herd him into the paddock and present him with their favourite soft football.
He kicked the ball again and again, trying to shift the rage inside him – and when that didn’t work he started running, letting the dogs chase him and wrestle him onto the grass. Finally, he pushed them away, sitting in a breathless heap. His blazer lining was torn. Any normal mother would have shouted and yelled at a damaged uniform but Elise wouldn’t care. She’d slice it up herself if she got the chance.
He struggled to his feet, sweating and mucky. The anger was gone, replaced with numbness. He reached into his blazer pocket, the zip-up one on the inside. The photo was there, covered in clear plastic to keep it safe. Adam studied the faces, familiar now, all three of them – even Lucian’s. A face not unlike the face Adam saw every day in the mirror. A mystery solved because of Morta’s cutting words in the Tapestry chamber, forgotten at first in his struggle to survive. Words half remembered in the night. Words that made Adam jolt awake, turn the light on and search for the photo so he could see the truth once and for all.
‘Adam?’ His father’s voice called across the paddock.
Adam’s first instinct was to hide. He was tired. Tired of all the lies and half-truths and secrets. Tired of false pride and disappointment and sadness washed down with whisky. He didn’t want to see any of them. And yet in the end – who else did he have? Who else understood the world he lived in, if not his family?
Still clutching the photo, he walked towards the house. His father came round the long hedge and stopped when he saw him. From the shock on Nathanial’s face Adam could only imagine how savage he looked. He didn’t care. His family had been worried about appearances for too long.
Nathanial tried to smile. ‘I thought the dogs sounded energetic. I was waiting for you to come into the house but they appeared back without you.’ When Adam didn’t speak, he cleared his throat. ‘I wanted to give you some warning. We have another Summoning to attend. You won’t be able to go to school tomorrow, I’m afraid. Although judging by your uniform, that’s probably not a bad thing.’
‘OK.’ Adam shrugged. What else could he do? The Luman world always came first. He started to walk away when he felt his father’s hand on his shoulder.
‘Adam.’
Instead of sounding angry Nathanial’s voice was gentle. He waited, silent, until Adam was forced to look up and meet his eye. ‘I know things have been difficult recently. It’s been a difficult time for all of us. I haven’t been here as much as I should have been – but I’m here now. If there’s anything you want to talk about, I’m here.’
Adam stared at him. His father was waiting for questions. Questions about swooping or guiding or betrothals. Adam had a question all right – just not the one his father was expecting. He held up the photo and handed it to Nathanial. ‘Who’s the man in the picture? Not you, the other one.’
His father blinked. Nathanial didn’t betray any other hint of shock. ‘I suppose there’s not much point asking where you got this, is there?’ In the face of Adam’s stubborn silence he sighed. ‘It’s your uncle. My brother Lucian.’
Adam nodded slowly. ‘I thought it might be.’ Morta’s words had twisted and danced through his head for days, just as the Mortal Knife had danced between her fingertips. Words from the Summoning and words from their last, desperate confrontation. I was told your family had some talent. Well, most of your family. Not every family member has shared your aspirations for greatness … I don’t like to see the women go hungry because their men have failed them. First your uncle, now your father and brother.
They stood side by side looking at the photo, taking in Nathanial’s swagger, Auntie Jo’s smile and Lucian’s haunted eyes. Adam studied his uncle’s face. ‘His hair’s a bit lighter but he looks like both of you. Both of you together.’
Nathanial gave a ghost smile. ‘He was. People said he was more like your Auntie Jo in personality, although gentler. They used to fight like cat and dog when we were children but she adored him.’
Adam hardly dared to breathe, afraid that whatever he said next would stop Nathanial from saying any more. He had the feeling of standing on the edge of something; that if he said the wrong thing Nathanial would walk away and Adam would never find out what he needed to know. ‘He’s dead, isn’t he?’
Nathanial nodded. ‘I’m afraid so.’
‘What happened to him?’
Nathanial closed his eyes for a moment, weighing something up. When he opened them they were cloudy. ‘He decided to step into his Light before his time.’
Adam blinked. ‘You mean he … killed himself.’
‘Yes.’
There was a long pause. Pieces of the past tumbled and fell through Adam’s mind, locking together. The shame and the scandal, betrothals broken. A Luman who had refused to live the life he was destined to lead. A picture formed, explaining a thousand different moments. Nathanial’s painful sense of duty, Elise’s perfectionism, Auntie Jo’s long unhappiness. ‘Why? Why did he do that?’
Nathanial sighed. ‘We don’t know for sure Adam. I know that he never felt at ease in our world. He was the eldest. He was supposed to be the next High Luman but things didn’t come naturally to him. Maybe he felt too much. He cared about people. He couldn’t detach and get on with the job. And at a certain point … perhaps he decided he’d had enough.’
Adam stared at him, mute. Nathanial might just as well have been describing him. Maybe Nathanial realised this because he gripped Adam’s shoulder fiercely. ‘You’re not like him, Adam. Maybe in some ways. You have some of his qualities.’ He smiled. ‘And you look like him too. But you’re not him and that is not the path you will walk.’
Adam nodded. He knew that. He loved being alive. He couldn’t imagine there ever being a time when he didn’t want to be alive. The difference was, he had something beyond the Luman world that was his. He had school, his friends, his hopes and dreams. Maybe Melissa too. ‘That’s why Auntie Jo made you let me go to school?’
Nathanial nodded. ‘She wanted you to have something to hold on to beyond our world. Just until you find your feet.’
‘So why didn’t you tell us about him?’ Adam’s anger rose up out of nowhere. His words poured out in a scalding wave. ‘Why are you ashamed of him? It wasn’t his fault! He must have been miserable! You must be ashamed of me too!’
‘No.’ Nathanial’s hand tightened, his fingers digging into Adam’s shoulder hard enough to bruise. ‘I have never been ashamed of you. You are my son. Nothing will ever change that.’ He paused, struggling to control himself. ‘We were all devastated. Lucian didn’t tell anyone his plans. He wasn’t guided. He took no keystone with him. People said he was selfish. He was supposed to be the next High Luman.
‘We’re an old family but it nearly wasn’t enough to save us. They could have stripped our Keystones. I was young and foolish but I worked and worked and finally I proved myself. It was Heinrich who made me High Luman. He knew what I’d done. And Elise gave me a chance. It took a long, long time but I brought us back.’ Colour had flared in Nathanial’s cheeks but he breathed in slowly. ‘And now we’re fine.’
Adam shook his head. ‘Auntie Jo isn’t fine. She’s the opposite of fine. She’s drinking herself to death.’
‘That won’t happen.’ Nathanial closed his eyes. ‘I won’t let that happen. I promise you.’
Adam studied him for a long moment. He realised then that he believed him. His father had never let them down. ‘You should have told us. You should have told us we had an uncle.’
Nathanial didn’t try to hide the pain in his face. ‘I loved my brother but we nearly lost everything. Your aunt Jo suffered the most. The past must stay in the past, for all our sakes – but most of all for Chloe’s sake. Your aunt lost more than her brother. She lost her future too. I won’t let that happen to my daughter.’
For just a second Adam saw the boy Nathanial had been. The second son. A happy, careless boy who had never wanted to be High Luman. The Luman world was unforgiving and Nathanial had worked hard to save them. Now all Adam could think about was how close he had come to dragging the family down into scandal again. ‘I’m sorry.’
‘For what?’ Nathanial said.
‘For being crap, I suppose,’ Adam said. His voice was small. ‘I’m sorry I’m no good at being a Luman. I do try. I just hate it. But I’ll get better. Like you had to.’
‘Some day you’ll be a great Luman,’ Nathanial said. His voice was quiet. ‘You care about people Adam. That’s why you find the job hard. But some day you’ll realise this is just a different way of caring. It’s the last way of showing care to each and every soul.’
Adam nodded. His throat was tight. He had his own way of showing care to souls – by helping them stay here as long as they could. He was going to keep helping them too because something stubborn in him wouldn’t let him stop. He would be a doctor and he would have the life he wanted. But that didn’t mean he couldn’t show care to the ones he couldn’t save too.
As if testing him, his death sense flared. He turned to his father. Nathanial closed his eyes for a second and sighed, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘I believe it might be a hit and run. Would you like to come on the job with me?’
Adam swallowed down the sick, unhappy feeling that rose up. ‘Yeah, OK.’
Nathanial reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief. ‘You might want to give your face a wipe before we go. No point alarming anyone.’
Adam shook his head and pulled a packet of tissues out of his pocket. ‘Thanks but I’m OK.’ And he realised suddenly that he was OK. He wasn’t his uncle. He could do this. He could do this and still be himself; still be the other Adam.
Nathanial smiled. He put his hand on Adam’s shoulder, and together father and son stepped into the twilight of the Hinterland.
Acknowledgements
Thanks as ever to my agent Gillie Russell and my editors Emily Thomas and Georgia Murray. Thanks also to EVERYONE at Team Hot Key, especially Jet and Jan for another brilliant cover and Meg, Livs and Sarah for looking after me in London and Dublin.
I am grateful to the pupils, staff and governors of Sperrin Integrated College, Magherafelt for their continued support with the books. Thanks also
to everyone who cheered me on or made me laugh while I was writing: Rosie McClelland; the endlessly patient, talented and hilarious Flowerfield Writers; the Rosemary Drama Group, Belfast for the fairies and the funnies; and as ever the mighty PWA – Julie Agnew, Mandy Taggart – and most of all Bernie McGill for endless encouragement, cool-headed Beanie handling and emergency bun delivery.
Special thanks to my family and friends, especially my parents Derek and Patricia McCune and my parents-in-law Michael and Gretta Murphy. Your cheerleading means a lot.
Most of all, love and thanks to my husband Colm Murphy and our daughter Ellen. You are the people who make it all worthwhile.
D.J. McCune
D.J. McCune was born in Belfast and grew up in a seaside town just north of the city. As a child she liked making up stories and even wrote some down, including a thriller about a stolen wallaby.
D.J. McCune read Theology at Trinity College, Cambridge but mostly just read lots of books. She lives in Northern Ireland with her husband and daughter – and two cats with seven legs between them.
THE MORTAL KNIFE is the second book in the DEATH & CO. series.
If you’d like to know more you can find her at:
www.facebook.com/djmccuneauthor
http://debbiemccune.tumblr.com
Twitter @debbiemccune
First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hot Key Books
Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT
Copyright © D.J. McCune 2014
The moral rights of the author have been asserted.
All rights reserved.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.
All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.