I recover first, chasing after Ellis, who’s bolted into the hall. I skid to a halt in the doorway.
Ellis is by the stairs and he’s got George in front of him, sinewy arm around his neck, using him as a shield. I have the gun pointed at Ellis’ head, but I’ve never held a gun before and I’m scared to risk it. What if I shoot George instead?
‘Ladies first,’ Ellis says, reaching behind his back. His hand appears, gripping a hunting knife with a serrated edge. He puts it to George’s throat.
‘Let him go,’ I say.
Ellis hacks out a laugh. ‘Where’s the fun in that?’
‘Rumer–’ George says. He looks so calm. I want to tell him it’ll be okay, but the words won’t come out.
‘Fine, I’ll go first,’ Ellis says. He drags the blade across George’s throat and all I see is pumping red. Hot, blinding red. And George is collapsing to the floor and I squeeze the trigger.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
It’s dark again. The only light in the basement comes from a bare bulb hanging above Nicotine Man’s head. Ellis. I keep forgetting I know his name now. Garden furniture and rickety shelves surround us. Frances liked to keep things neat, even if they were hidden away. It smells like damp and soil and I want to spit.
Ellis is bound to a chair. His nose is definitely broken again. The white bandage has come unstuck and I see ruptured bone. Blood smears his shirt, which was probably white a few decades ago. A gunshot wound puckers his shoulder. I narrowly missed his heart. It’ll hurt like hell when he wakes up.
Bolt’s by the stairs, listening for Ellis’ comrades. I shiver at the knowledge that my mother’s on her way, then shove the thought to the blackest corner of my mind.
‘We should get out of here,’ Bolt says.
‘Not yet. Not until he’s talked.’
‘There’ll be others coming.’
‘I know.’
It won’t take long. I slap Ellis and his head bobs up, his eyelids ratcheting open. He looks confused, just like Julian did, then his lips draw back in a sneer.
‘One word,’ I say, hefting the hammer in my hand so he can see it. ‘And you find out how much this thing weighs.’
He doesn’t seem afraid. There’s a strange sparkle in the way he looks at me. I don’t particularly care what he’s thinking until I realise that sparkle is respect. He’s impressed I did this. I feel sick. I don’t want to impress him. I just want to end this.
‘How’s the old man?’ Ellis asks.
It takes all my effort not to swing the hammer. I clench it until my knuckles hurt and I hate the way Ellis keeps looking at me. Like he knows me. He knows her. Are they planning a new job together? Looking to recruit? I wouldn’t join them if Stevie Nicks herself enlisted.
‘Where is she?’ I ask.
‘Who?’
‘You know who.’
His eyes narrow. ‘Hit your head lately?’
I grab the collar of his shirt. ‘My mother. Where is she?’
The sparkle dims and is replaced with a tar-stained grin.
‘Your mother! Ha! Girl, you’re behind the times. She’s been dead nearly two decades.’
‘That’s a lie and you know it.’
His forehead crinkles and the grin shrinks.
‘Dead’s what she is. Maggot food. Go look at her grave if you don’t believe it.’
I don’t believe it because I’ve seen her, but maybe Ellis hasn’t. Is it possible he bought into the lie like everybody else?
‘It’s been so long.’ Ellis’ sneer is back. ‘What was her name again?’
I release his collar and step back.
‘You must know it,’ he prods. ‘Go on. Say it.’
I squeeze the hammer tighter. I hate saying it. The word ‘mother’ feels alien. Even just by saying it I’m giving her power over me.
‘Can’t do it, can you? Can’t even say your own mother’s name.’
‘Where is she?’ I demand, raising the hammer. ‘What does she want?’
Ellis cackles. He’s practically daring me to hit him. Would he get some sick pleasure out of it?
‘Not seen her for years,’ he says eventually. ‘Not since they fished her out of the Thames.’
‘You’re lying.’
He doesn’t like that. ‘Listen, little girl. You better stop worrying about spooks. You’re in deep shit. Could end up like one of mummy’s vics. You ever hear about the bank job? Thirteen dead, all done in by her. One of them was a fourteen-year-old girl. Shot her in the eye, I think.’
Ellis starts screaming. I’ve smashed his kneecap. I’ve done it before I even realise I’ve swung the hammer. The popping sound of his kneecap breaking makes me feel euphoric and ill.
‘You crazy bitch!’ Ellis shrieks, thrashing in the chair. ‘You crazy little–’
I rest the hammer on his broken nose. He falls silent, though his chest still heaves, his broken leg trembling.
‘Tell me where she is, what she wants.’
‘Told you… she’s dead. Or pretending. Either way she’s gone.’
I start to wonder if he’s telling the truth. The sparkle’s gone. He’s in pain. But he must have seen her. She was there the night he and Reverend Mara’s men tracked me down at the hotel. Unless she’s working alone now.
‘Rumer,’ Bolt says. ‘We need to move.’
‘You better run, girlie,’ Ellis says. ‘Rev’s on his way and he’s getting impatient. He likes a chase. Makes the capture all the sweeter. And you’re giving him a good chase. But eventually you stop and face the music.’
I punch him. His nose is practically hanging off his face, and Ellis stifles a sob, which makes me hate him more. Pussy.
‘He was right about you,’ he says, broken-sounding.
‘He’s talking nonsense, Rumer. Let’s go.’
Ellis spits blood to the floor. ‘You’re savage, like her. Single-minded. She’d be proud.’
I punch him again. I can’t help it. His hacking, sobbing laugh says I’m only proving him right, but my fist has a mind of its own now, and I’m punching him again, wanting to beat the laughter out of him. His face is purple and red and puffy and why can’t I stop hitting him? I can feel her inside me. My mother’s wielding the hammer, rupturing bone and cartilage.
‘Rumer, enough. You don’t want him to pass out.’
George’s face swims before me. The calm expression when Ellis had him by the throat. The spray of red when the blade bit his flesh.
‘Tell me what she wants and I’ll stop,’ I growl, though I don’t know if I can. The hammer throbs in my palm and I want to keep hurting him.
Ellis’ non-closed-up eye rolls in its socket and he spits blood to the floor.
We must surround ourselves with people who see the good in us.
There’s no good in me, only my mother, all the terrible things she did, and it feels so good to hit and smash and the pain in my knuckles is a comfort. A pain that makes me feel alive and here and just right here, nowhere else, not my mother, I’m not her, I’m not.
‘Rumer.’ Bolt’s hand closes around my arm and he drags me to him. I hit him, too, and he grabs my fists, knocking the hammer to the floor.
‘Rumer. Stop. It’s okay.’
I shove him off, panting.
‘You’ll make a great lapdog for the Rev.’
I turn to Ellis and I see what I’ve done to him. I’m horrified by the mess of his face. He’s barely recognisable.
‘Ever since mummy disappeared, he’s been looking for a replacement.’ His voice rasps between puffy lips. ‘You’re her daughter alright, and you’re passing his tests with flying colours.’
‘Tests? What are you talking about?’
Ellis tries to laugh again, but he must be in too much pain because the gurgling stops abruptly. ‘You’re so close to the truth, and you’ve been relentless. You’ve turned on everybody you know, trusted nobody except this meat sack, and you’ve beaten me, in all senses of the word.’
‘Mar
a wants me dead,’ I say.
‘How could he recruit you if you’re dead?’
Recruit me? That doesn’t make any sense. Mara threw me into a pit to die.
I frown.
He threw me into a pit that I escaped from. And then he sent his men to attack me. They shot at me, but they didn’t kill me. I got away and then I took a hostage and watched Bolt stab him with a screwdriver. Let him do it. And when Ellis tracked me down, I shot him, bound him to a chair and–
Reverend Mara’s testing me?
I don’t want to believe it. Besides, I’ve only evaded him this long because I had help. If Mara’s test is proving anything, it’s that one person is no match for his army.
I look at Bolt, but I can’t tell what he’s thinking.
Then I hear the basement door opening and I know we’re out of time.
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
Bolt charges up the stairs. I seize the hammer from the basement floor and dash after him. Better to fight them at the door than get trapped down here. Bolt trades blows with a figure all in black. One of Mara’s ninjas. They’re wily, but Bolt’s like a solid wall. He slams the ninja into the brickwork and the black-clad figure tumbles down the stairs. I get out of the way just in time.
‘Here! Down here!’
Ellis is yelling. I forget about him. He’s tied up. The ninjas aren’t. One of them slips by Bolt and flips towards me. I manage to duck and the figure swings from the banister rail, doubling back to kick my legs from under me.
I hit the stairs and manage to roll onto my back just in time to heft the hammer as the ninja pounces. I hear a crunch, though I don’t know what I’ve hit. Whatever it was, the ninja crashes down the stairs.
‘Rumer,’ Bolt shouts from the door. I scramble up.
‘Run, little girl! Run run run! Ha!’
Ellis’ shrieks fade as we bowl into the hall. I try not to look at George, who’s still slumped against the wall. The floor’s wet with his blood, but I won’t succumb to the sucking grief. Not when Mara’s men are swarming over Frances’ house. My house.
The anger’s a shard in my ribs. How dare they? This place is sacred and they’re shitting all over it.
More figures spill into the house and the next few moments are a blur of thrashing limbs and shouts. I wield the hammer and duck and try to make sense of all the figures trapping us in the hallway. Try to imagine a way that this could end with us still alive.
Something whistles past my ear.
They have guns.
‘Down!’ Bolt’s holding most of Mara’s men at bay and I know I’d be long dead if it wasn’t for him. Except Ellis said Mara doesn’t want me dead. He wants to recruit me. Was he just having fun scrambling my brains?
Bolt yells as two ninjas grab his arms and force him back against the wall. I rush forward, but Bolt throws them off. A third figure loops a chain around Bolt’s neck and jerks him sideways. Bolt gags, hands clutching at the air.
Another figure lunges for me and I bury the hammer in his head. He drops to the floor.
‘Enough!’
My gaze wheels to the front door.
Reverend Mara stands observing the scene. His hands are clasped together and he’s wearing an intricate kimono, his hair cut in blades to skim his cheekbones. He stares at me with the eye that isn’t smoky.
‘You’ve been busy, Ms Cross.’
I don’t say anything. Bolt’s still struggling with the chain around his neck.
‘Tell your guard dog to cease his struggles, or I’ll be forced to put him down.’ That soft accent, implacable but strangely soothing.
I look at Bolt, who relents.
Behind Reverend Mara, a figure shuts the front door and goes to his side.
‘Rose,’ I utter, and I shouldn’t be surprised, but after interrogating Julian, I’d discounted him and his assistant as players. But now Rose is standing by Mara, her dark hair tied back so her bony face is fixed in an even more unforgiving expression than usual. Her eyes glitter at me and she’s smarter than I’ve ever seen her in a dark green suit.
‘You’re already acquainted,’ Mara purrs.
‘She’ll be acquainted with my fist soon.’
Mara laughs. His men line the hall and he strolls towards me, half smiling as he fixes his shirt cuffs.
‘You didn’t like my pit.’
‘It was draughty.’
He laughs again. He knows he’s in control.
‘And you have Ellis,’ he says.
‘What’s left of him.’
Mara’s face changes ever so slightly. The skin tightens around his eyes. I imagine Ellis has served him well over the years. Is Mara afraid of losing him?
‘He’s alive,’ I add. ‘Mostly.’
‘And you, Ms Cross? Do you value your life? The fight in you says one thing, but your eyes tell a different story.’
I don’t answer.
‘Let us talk.’
‘There’s nothing to talk about.’
Reverend Mara strolls into the lounge, Rose gliding after him, her lips twisting at the corners, mocking me, enjoying this. I glance at Bolt, who nods, signalling he’ll fight if I want us to, but he looks exhausted. We could try to fight our way out of here, but we’d die in the process. I don’t have a choice. I follow Mara into the living room.
He’s standing with a photo frame in his hands. A picture of Frances. My stomach churns but I resist the urge to smash it in his face.
‘Frances Ahearn,’ Mara says. ‘I had wondered who took you in after your mother abandoned you.’
I stand by the sofa. Evening’s drawing in and the room’s blushing autumn orange. Rose stands by the window and I want to scream at her to get out of Frances’ house, but I chew the inside of my cheek and force myself not to look at her. I wonder if Julian’s nearby. If he’s working for Mara, too, or if Rose has played him.
‘Tell me about yourself.’ Mara sets the frame down. ‘Anything.’
‘I’m a Sagittarius and I think chickens are weird.’
‘Smart mouth. You remind me of your mother more and more.’
I bite my tongue. The last thing I want to talk about is her. Though if Mara’s working with her, knows why she’s after me…
‘You’re curious about her,’ Mara says. ‘It’s only natural. She birthed you. We all need to know where we came from.’
‘I don’t.’
Mara sits in the armchair and contemplates me. I don’t like him looking at me. It’s the same way Ellis did, as if he knows me just because he knows my mother. Or knew her. I honestly can’t keep up.
‘What is it you want most in the world, Ms Cross?’
To punch that smug look off your face and get the hell out of here. Forget I met any of you.
‘It’s not a trick question,’ he says. ‘Please.’
‘Freedom,’ I say, and I mean it.
‘Ah.’ Mara sighs, tipping his head back. ‘Freedom. Something only the wise know to wish for. The wise and the doomed.’
Doomed. Like everybody I ever met.
‘I don’t have the Crook Spear,’ I say. He has to believe me. If he doesn’t, I don’t know what’ll happen next. Bolt’s still with the ninjas. Mara won’t kill him, though. If he kills Bolt, he’ll never get me to work for him.
‘We’ll get to that. First, I want to tell you a story.’ He gestures at the sofa – Frances’ sofa – inviting me to sit and listen. Clenching my fists, I perch rigidly.
‘My mother used to tell me about the Greek goddess Eris, who oversaw the domains of chaos and discord,’ he says softly. ‘Such was the size and scope of her domain that she was split in two. The first Eris was nicknamed Strife. She was a heartless warmonger whose cruel acts resulted in bloodshed and death. The second, though, was named Nyx. She understood the toils of men and, though she wrought hardship wherever she stepped, her nature was more benevolent.’
‘They sound delightful. Can I go now?’
Mara’s expression tightens. ‘It’s a cleve
r man who plays the fool.’
I press my lips together.
‘Family,’ Mara continues. ‘It’s more than the people around us, the bodies birthed out of our heritage. It’s the basics of our genetic make-up. The unique qualities passed down from mother to child. You’ve never met your mother, so you wouldn’t know, but you’re the image of her.’
‘I’m nothing like her.’
Mara laughs. ‘Every word you speak reveals your likeness even more. Have you ever heard of parthenogenesis?’ He eyes me, knowing I’m too stupid to have ever heard of anything like that. ‘It’s the term, for lack of a better phrase, for immaculate conception. Certain insects and reptiles are able to give birth without the process of fertilisation. The mother is quite literally the sole parent, passing all of her genes on to her offspring. Fascinating, don’t you think?’
At first I don’t understand why he’s telling me this, but then his words start to sink in. I have no idea who my father is. I’m not sure anybody does, except my mother, and I’ve never really thought about him. Only her. Mara’s suggesting I don’t actually have a father. I’m entirely hers.
It sounds like madness, but I find I’ve caught my breath at the thought.
Mara sighs. ‘You’re young. You don’t know what’s good for you, but I do. You will come with me and you’ll never want for anything.’
‘Other than freedom.’
‘You will earn your freedom,’ he says. ‘You’ve proven yourself resilient, shrewd, wilful. Just the qualities I require.’
I stand. ‘I’d rather die.’
‘Perhaps.’ Mara waves a hand at one of his guards. ‘You will come with me and I will spare your friend.’
On cue, Bolt is hustled into the living room. One of the ninjas kicks the backs of his knees and he collapses to the floor. The ninja holds a gun to his temple.
‘Leave him out of this.’ I turn angrily on Mara, avoiding Rose’s probing gaze behind him.
‘You brought him into it.’ The Reverend’s teeth snap around his words. ‘Every choice has a consequence, Ms Cross. You brought him into this, and it’s you who must get him out of it. What do you say?’
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