by Gemma Holden
“If I couldn’t lie, then how could I have told that walrus of a baroness last night that the dress she was wearing flattered her?” The fairy leaned forward. Even though he was tiny, Raiden drew back. “You can pretend you know nothing of what I am speaking, but didn’t your grandmother warn you about the consequences of angering me.”
Raiden swallowed. “What do you mean you purchased it from the previous owner?”
“James Matherson offered to sell me the amulet; it had come into his possession. I paid him fifty thousand pounds for it, but he died in a fire before I could collect it.”
So that was where James Matherson had got the money from and why he hadn’t given the lady in the mirror the last missing piece of her mirror. He had intended to sell the amulet instead.
“What makes you think I have it?”
“Lazare believes you have it. He would have made his move by now, but he doesn’t want me to know you have it.”
“I don’t understand. Why do you want the amulet?”
The lady in the mirror needed the amulet to escape her mirror, but why would Prince Valerian want it?
He tapped his silver topped cane against his crossed leg. “Did you know the Inquisition control all the archaeological excavations in this country? Anything found becomes the property of the Inquisition. Of course, they claim it’s so the objects can be studied and displayed, but in fact it’s because they don’t want any powerful objects to fall into the wrong hands. Humans cannot make magical items; they can only use them. Two thousand years ago, the greater demons ruled most of Europe. They had a great empire. They ruled this country as well at one time, before the empire crumbled and fell into ruin. They made things, powerful things. They were lost over time, buried deep in the earth. The amulet is one of those things.”
“If I did have it, shouldn’t I give it to the Inquisition?”
“Do you trust them to have such a thing?” the fairy asked. “They claim they’re preserving your history, or are they keeping it for themselves, for their own power? They hate magic and those that can use it. They would be happy to see all of you dead.”
“You think I should trust you with it instead?”
The fairy shrugged. “I don’t intend to do anything with it. I simply wish to make sure no one else has it, especially Lazare.”
The carriage stopped. The ogre driver opened the door. He was dressed smartly for an ogre in a charcoal grey coat and a black bowler hat on his bald head, not the usual shabby clothes most ogres wore.
“You can think about what I’ve said. If you were to give me the amulet, there would be enormous rewards. Most of your stories are about what happens when humans anger my kind. They don’t mention how generous we can be. You’re about to make your debut to society soon. With one word I can make you popular. You will be adored. People will throw balls in the hope of gaining your favour and whatever you wear will instantly become the latest fashion. You will have power that is unmatched.”
She thought about what he would do to her if she didn’t give him the amulet. He could ruin her socially. “I will think about what you’ve said.”
“See that you do. My offer will not be valid forever and then I will have to resort to more persuasive means.”
****
The ogre helped her out of the carriage. He shut the door and then heaved his large bulk up onto the driver’s box. Raiden pulled open the door to the solicitors. She had to find Aren and stop him going to see Matherson.
The same gentleman who had greeted her before stepped forward. “I wish to see Mr Feralis,” she told him.
“I’m afraid he’s not here.”
A feeling of dread settled in her stomach. “Where is he?”
“He’s gone to see a client.”
She was too late. He had already left to see Matherson. “When did he leave?”
The gentleman took out a gold pocket watch. “About an hour ago I believe.” He looked at her stricken face. “Is there something I can help you with?”
“No,” she whispered. “There’s nothing you can do.”
She stumbled out of the office onto the street. She had no money, no way to get back to school. Unfamiliar buildings surrounded her. She was lost without her ghosts. She followed the stream of people, stepping over the filth that covered the pavement. Street vendors shouted to be heard above one another. In the sky, a wyvern swooped down above the traffic, startling several horses. She felt vulnerable without her ghosts. She tried not to flinch as people brushed by. She hadn’t realised how much she depended on them. She simply asked Tobin to take her somewhere and he did. She didn’t know the name of the street Matherson’s house was on or how to get back to the manor from here.
Suddenly, her arm was seized and she was pulled into an alley. She opened her mouth to scream, but a hand clamped over her mouth.
“Yu cum wiv us,” said a voice.
Two creatures each held one of her arms. They reached a little below her waist. They had huge bulbous noses and black eyes with long, almost ape like arms. Coarse black hair covered their bodies. They were some sort of species of goblin - a boggle or a boggart perhaps. There wasn’t much hair on their hands and feet. Those parts looked almost human, with pink skin and black nails. They were small, but strong. Their hands held her in an iron grip. She elbowed her assailant and kicked out at the other one, but it had little effect.
They dragged her further into the alley to where a goblin waited by a tiny, childlike carriage. The goblin had greasy brown skin with a prominent brow, thick lips, and black rotted teeth. He came up to just past her knee. He was dressed in a coarse brown jacket and trousers, with a red scarf knotted around his neck.
“Someone wants to see you,” the goblin said.
The creatures - she had decided they were most likely boggles - dragged her over to the tiny carriage. The goblin opened the door.
“I won’t fit in there,” Raiden said, struggling to get free.
“If you don’t fit, we can always cut off your arms,” the driver suggested.
They shoved her into the tiny carriage. She couldn’t fit. Her knees were tucked under her chin and she had to keep her head pressed down. They stuffed the rest of her dress in and shut the door. The carriage took off. She hit her head on the ceiling as she was bounced around. The carriage swerved. She was thrown painfully to the side, hitting her elbow. She couldn’t see clearly out of the window, just a tiny slither of sunlight that suddenly vanished to be replaced by darkness.
They travelled for what seemed like hours before the carriage finally pulled to a stop. The door opened. The boggles took her arm and pulled her out headfirst. She fell to her hands and knees in the dirt. They were deep underground. Two lanterns hanging from the front of the carriage provided the only light. The carriage was tiny in order to fit through the tunnel, but it could go no further. Ahead, the tunnel narrowed.
“Straight on; they’re waiting for you,” the driver said.
Raiden got to her feet and tried to brush the creases and dust from her dress. “What if I don’t go?” she said.
The driver shrugged. “Good luck finding your way back.” He backed the pony up to a small notch in the tunnel and used it to turn the carriage around. He disappeared down a passageway, taking the light with him. The boggles scurried after him.
She tried to follow him, but when she got to the passageway there was nothing but blackness. She couldn’t see or hear any sign of the carriage.
With no other choice, she followed the tunnel in the direction the driver had pointed, one hand against the dirt wall, feeling her way. She had to duck down as the tunnel narrowed. Her head brushed the dirt above her and it showered down. It didn’t seem as if there was anything supporting the ceiling and stopping the tunnel from falling in.
Eventually, the ceiling became higher and she could walk upright without having to crouch down. She came out into a hall. The floor was thick with bones that crunched under her feet. The stench made her choke. She pull
ed a torch from the wall. Enormous stone pillars rose up into the darkness. Under all the bones and filth, the floor was carved from stone. There was a ring of torches in the very centre of the hall. She headed toward them, clambering over the bones. At the centre of the torches, on a huge golden throne, sat the Goblin King.
****
He was the size of a two year old child. His legs dangled over the edge of the throne as his feet couldn’t quite reach the ground. He had a grotesque face, with leathery brown skin. His huge bulbous nose was pebbled with warts and his greasy black hair hung in ropes down his back. On every finger, he wore gold rings with huge gems and in his rounded ears were dozens of tiny gold hoops.
The golden crown on his head was encrusted with dirty diamonds and rubies. She didn’t know if she should point out it was the crown of a queen, not a king.
The Goblin King watched her approach with beady yellow eyes. He chewed on a bone. As she got closer, she realised it was an arm. The juices ran down his chin, onto his already stained silk shirt. More bones were scattered around the throne.
Next to the throne was a small stool on which a tiny man sat. He was twice the size of a fairy. He had a thin, elongated face and the long pointed ears common to all the demon races. The corners of his eyes slanted up. She had never seen a pixie before. They never usually left Cornwall. She wondered if Prince Valerian knew there was a pixie in London. The fairies and the pixies had been at war ever since the pixies had driven the fairies out of Cornwall.
The pixie lounged in his chair, casually sipping blood from a glass thimble. He was out of place here in his elegant clothes. The Goblin King had cruel eyes, but there was something in the pixie’s eyes that made her think he was more dangerous. He watched her closely above his glass.
“Want amulet,” the Goblin King said, tearing strips of flesh from the bone with his teeth.
Raiden almost sighed. The whole of London seemed to know about the amulet. “Amulet? What amulet?” she said.
“You give us, not them.” The Goblin King spoke with his mouth full. Pieces of meat were spat out as he talked.
The pixie scowled at the shower of spittle. He took a silk handkerchief from his breast pocket and wiped the spit from his face. “Lady Feralis, thank you for accepting His Majesty’s invitation to join us.”
“Want amulet,” the Goblin King said again.
“I don’t have an amulet,” Raiden said. “You’re mistaken.”
The Goblin King pounded his fist on the arm of the throne, like a child having a tantrum. “Give amulet.”
The pixie sighed. “Allow me to explain the situation to you, Lady Feralis. If you will permit me, Your Majesty.” The Goblin King grunted and went back to stuffing food into his mouth. “It came to our attention that a certain amulet had come onto the market. A gentleman was looking to sell it after it had come into his possession. There were a number of parties interested in acquiring the amulet. It was their interest that led His Majesty to decide it might perhaps be fruitful if he were to acquire the amulet for himself.”
She didn’t think the Goblin King would be clever enough to come up with that idea without some help. “Did he want the amulet or did you want the amulet?” she asked.
The pixie drank down the rest of the blood and smiled. “I am merely an ambassador from my court, a humble servant of His Majesty’s.”
“Of course you are.”
“Nevertheless, His Majesty would like the amulet and we understand it is currently in your possession.”
“If I give you the amulet, will you let me go?”
“Absolutely,” the pixie said, a bit too quickly.
She didn’t believe him. “Take me back to the surface first, and once we’re there I’ll give you the amulet.”
The pixie narrowed his eyes. “She means to trick you, Majesty.” Raiden stayed silent and waited. She met the Goblin King’s greedy gaze. “You shouldn’t trust her,” the pixie said.
“Do you know who my family are?”
The pixie smiled. “Yes, Lady Feralis. I know who they are and what they can do. However, I’ve heard that while your family may be powerful evokers, you are not.”
His words stung. She was powerless and he knew it.
“Now, the amulet if you please.” The pixie held out his hand.
It was dark here, far below London. There were no mirrors that she could see. The lady in the mirror would never find the amulet here. She pulled the amulet over her neck and dangled it by the chain. The Goblin King and the pixie both leaned forward. Light from the torches reflected back from the jewel. The Goblin King reached out a hand for it.
“You can have the amulet.” She still had the torch in one hand. She moved closer. She swung the amulet around by its chain and tossed it into the air. The Goblin King cried out and went to grab it. The pixie jumped from his seat.
“Mine,” the Goblin King shouted.
Raiden didn’t wait to see who would get it. She ran back to the tunnel. No one moved to follow her; they were all watching to see what would happen between the King and the pixie.
She ran down the passageway and stopped. There were two turnings. She didn’t know which one they had come by.
The openings both looked the same. She had to get away from the goblins before they came after her. She chose the left one. The tunnel narrowed. She had to hunch down to get through. The tunnel split again and again. She was going deeper and deeper underground. She kept running through the winding passages. Raiden stopped, panting, her heart racing. The tunnel split into five.
She sank down, her back against the side of the tunnel. She had to get to Aren. No one was coming to find her. No one even knew she was down here. She could wander the tunnels and never find her way out, or stay here and freeze to death. She wrapped her arms around herself to try and keep warm.
The torch spluttered. It would burn out soon and then she would be left here in the dark. At least the amulet was out of reach of the lady in the mirror. She would never find it down here.
A dim light appeared in one of the tunnels. She could hear footsteps approaching. She got to her feet. A cloaked figure emerged from the left hand tunnel, a torch in his hand. A golden mask covered the stranger’s face. The outline of his eyes and mouth and nose had been beaten into the metal, but there was no opening for him to see or even breathe. It was the man who had followed her earlier in the week.
She gripped the torch like a weapon, ready to strike him if he came any closer. He stopped before her.
Slowly, he lifted his mask off.
Chapter Seventeen
“I trust I’m not interrupting,” he said.
“You!” Raiden said. “You were the one following me.”
Lazare, the vampire from the theatre, threw back his hood. The light from the torch cast a glow on the vampire’s face, making his skin seem warm. It made him almost seem alive. His blonde hair was damp with sweat. He shook the strands out of his eyes and smiled. “I intended to speak with you, but you ran away. I didn’t realise who you were until I saw you at the theatre that evening with Eleanor.”
“You want the amulet,” she guessed.
“Yes, I wanted the amulet, although I assume that’s no longer an option.”
“I gave it to the goblins.”
He nodded. “Let’s get out of this place and then we can talk. The goblins will be after you at any moment.”
“I’m not going with you.”
“You can stay here if you wish,” Lazare called over his shoulder, as he headed back into the tunnel.
Raiden had no choice but to follow him. Lazare led her through the tunnels, taking random turnings. “How did you know I had the amulet?” she asked.
“I questioned the landlady at the boarding house. She said you had found something in Matherson’s room and that the girl had taken it with her.” His stride was long; she had to hurry to keep up with him. “Valerian saw me following you that day and then again at the theatre.”
The tunn
el widened and the dirt floor was replaced by a stone one. The walls were set with torches. “It was why I came to England,” he continued. “My mistress heard it had come onto the market and she wanted it for herself. But the seller died before I could acquire it. It was most inconvenient of him.”
They emerged from the tunnel onto a street lined with shops and smart houses. It was night here. The street lights were lit.
“Surely it can’t be night yet,” Raiden said as she looked around. There was no breeze. She couldn’t see any stars or clouds, just darkness above them.
“We’re still underground.” Lazare said. “I wouldn’t have brought you here, but it’s the quickest way.”
A mummy without any bandages sat sipping coffee outside a coffee shop. The mummy wore a black silk dress and clutched a lace parasol in one hand. Its arms were brown sticks, its face a dried out husk. On its head was an elaborate black wig. The mass of black curls was piled up high. Tendrils had been left loose to curl around the mummy’s shriveled shoulders. At the next table a zombie, the stitches visible around his neck where his head had been sewn back on, was playing chess with a ghost.
There was something missing; she could see demons, ghosts, zombies and skeletons, but there were no humans here; at least none still living
“Is this place just for demons and the dead?” she asked.
Lazare shrugged. “There is nothing stating that living humans aren’t welcome here. Over the centuries it’s where the demons and the dead have congregated. It used to be a refuge where they could hide after the monarchy was abolished and the Inquisition came to power.”
“But things are different now,” Raiden said.
The vampire gave a short laugh. “Nothing has changed, not really. The only difference now is that they don’t kill demons on sight or round up the dead to be burned. Demons and the dead still can’t vote. They work for less money and yet they work longer hours than the humans; that’s if they can find employment. Most do menial work, lighting street lights and collecting human waste. They are always outsiders. They will never be accepted.”