“Is he trustworthy?” Sam asked.
“He’s solid.”
“Is it likely he’ll know anything useful?” Liberty asked.
Merlyn shrugged. “Just the messenger,” he said. “But... Solomon’s a rare one. It might be worth a punt.”
“I should go, then,” Sam said.
“Not alone,” Liberty replied. Nicholas thought he sensed scorn in her tone. “I’ll go with. Everybody else is tunnel-bound.”
Nicholas grimaced. They were going back into the tunnels? It seemed like a suicide mission, especially considering how many Harvesters had been there the previous night. There didn’t appear to be any alternative, though. And on top of it all, he had to convince Rae to join them.
Now it was his turn to unpick things. He’d have to unpick the lies that Laurent had stitched around her.
Aileen bustled from the room. “And I thought running a safehouse would make for a quiet retirement,” she sighed.
“Nicholas.” Sam was by his side. The elderly man nodded his head at the living room door and disappeared through it. Butterflies in his belly, Nicholas begrudgingly went after him, joining Sam in the garden. The air was thick with heat and Nicholas struggled to think clearly. The unnatural warmth fogged his brain and he wasn’t looking forward to whatever Sam had to say.
“Take a seat, lad,” Sam said, contemplating the ground.
Nicholas complied gladly. His knees were practically knocking together. Sam remained standing, his features cast in shadow by his fedora.
“I wish I could tell you that what Laurent said about your parents was a lie,” the old man said finally. “But I can’t.”
Nicholas had known that anyway, but hearing Sam say it opened a sucking pit in his chest. His palms became clammy.
“I had hoped to spare you that painful truth, but I see now that I was naïve. I should have known it would be used against you, if not by Laurent, then by somebody else.”
Nicholas’s tongue stuck to the roof of his mouth. Questions cemented his throat closed. He knew that if he tried to voice them, they’d spew out in an idiotic torrent.
“Anita and Max loved you, but you don’t need to be told that.” Sam’s voice creaked, his expression wooden. “They were your parents. They were your family. You know that. Their love for you was never in doubt, especially as they chose to take you in. They wanted you in their lives. They accepted that responsibility gladly.”
“Who–” Nicholas tested his voice. “Who were they?”
“Anita was your sister.”
Nicholas’s skin prickled. He hadn’t expected that. At the very least, he’d expected to be told that the people he thought were his parents were actually his aunt and uncle. That would make sense. But this...
“My... sister?”
“She was nineteen and already engaged when your parents died. Relatively young for a mother, but not unheard of. Your parents died the day you were born. Whatever it was that came into the world with you, it claimed them, like the other residents of Orville. Your mother’s name was Alice. Your father was Daniel.”
Nicholas had never heard those names before.
“They were so excited...” Sam broke off, his voice wavering. “Anita was staying with Max out of town when you were born. When Alice died, Jessica wanted to take you in. Raise you herself. Esus wouldn’t allow it. He knew that it was too dangerous. Too obvious. So you were hidden with Anita and Max. They became your parents.”
“But why pretend that she wasn’t my sister?”
Sam shrugged. “The more you resembled a traditional family, the better. If the Dark Prophets were aware of your birth, it stood to reason that they’d dispatch their agents to look for you. The more you blended in with the rest of society, the more easily you could hide.”
“And they never told me.” He didn’t know how he’d have reacted if they had told him. Would he have been angry? Upset? Now, he just felt numb, like his body wasn’t his. Just as his parents weren’t his.
Had Anita ever tried to tell him? He wracked his brains, but he couldn’t think of a single occasion. There hadn’t been any hints, any broken sentences, any cross words that threatened to spill the truth.
That was why they’d looked so alike. They were siblings.
“They kept everything from me.” He fought the threat of tears. “Everything.”
“Never maliciously,” Sam said. “They only ever wanted the best for you.”
Nicholas rubbed his eyes, willing the tears away. “You kept an eye on them. That’s why you were always around.”
“They were young and they had nobody. I was there for them if they needed me.” Sam rubbed his forehead, whether in frustration or weariness, Nicholas couldn’t tell. “Lad, whatever you’re feeling, it’s normal. Who can say if what they did was wrong? They kept things from you, and I was complicit in that, but they cared for you. They loved you.”
Nicholas had the feeling Sam was talking as much about his own feelings as Anita and Max’s.
Anita. It felt wrong referring to her as anything other than ‘mum’. His thoughts were muddled and he didn’t think he’d ever get over the raw feeling of betrayal. How could he trust anything anybody said? It seemed everybody had their secrets; destructive secrets that could tear a person’s world apart in a heartbeat.
And under the mist of confusion, far more disturbing thoughts huddled. You’re a murderer, they whispered. You’re no good.
He tried to block them out, but they wouldn’t be ignored. He remembered what Malika said to him when she cornered him on the bus.
“You’re dangerous. A threat to the world.”
She was right.
“There’s something you should know about the girl,” Sam said.
Nicholas looked up sharply, plucked from his thoughts. “Rae? What about her?”
“She was born that same night in Orville.”
Suspicion bit into him. “What else aren’t you telling me?”
Sam sighed. “That’s all I know. And I only know that because of Judith. Laurent was right; she was a midwife. She was run off her feet with two pregnant ladies in the village. Then you both arrived on the same night and changed everything.”
Nicholas couldn’t believe Sam had kept so much from him. Anger scorched his veins and he felt like shouting, aiming every rage-filled resentment at Sam. But he couldn’t. His parents, Anita and Max, hadn’t kept things from him out of malice, and neither had Sam. From the start, everybody had simply tried to protect him.
Or protect the world from me.
Rae had destroyed the shop in town. Nicholas had decimated an entire community. Could they really be agents of good? The Trinity had chosen them, or at least that’s what everybody thought. What if they were wrong?
“There’s something else,” Sam began, but he stopped when a gangly figure materialised at the back door.
“Liberty’s asking for you,” Merlyn said. “She wants to hit the road.”
“Thank you,” Sam said distractedly. He hesitated, meeting Nicholas’s gaze at last. His eyes were an overcast blue. “We’ll talk later. I’m sure you have many questions. I’ll answer them if I can.” He turned stiffly and left.
“You could cut the atmosphere out here with a chainsaw,” Merlyn commented, joining Nicholas in the garden. He was wearing another of his heavy metal T-shirts, this one for a band called ‘STIGMATA’. The picture was of a skull-faced angel. He was such a contradiction, Nicholas thought. Merlyn’s goth style clashed with his tanned skin and golden hair.
“Chainsaw? Don’t you mean knife?” Nicholas said.
“Normally, but the atmosphere out here is pretty damn thick.”
Nicholas almost laughed, but it stuck fast in his throat like a pill.
“That bad, huh?” Merlyn mused, one corner of his mouth drooping. “Whenever I get yelled at or somebody pisses me off, I go out and kill something.”
“You know that makes you sound like a serial killer?” Nicholas said. Alre
ady the mood in the garden seemed lighter, as if Merlyn had punctured it with a pin.
“Serial killer of monsters!” Merlyn declared, thumping his chest. He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder. “What was with Bogart?”
“Bogart?”
“Sam,” Merlyn said. “Somebody die?”
Yeah, his wife, Nicholas thought. My parents. Because of me.
And my sister raised me and we’re all part of a supernatural soap opera that will probably end with Sam revealing he has an evil twin working as an undertaker in Transylvania.
Nicholas shrugged. “A while ago, but I’m only just finding out about it.”
“Harsh. Want to fight? I’ll keep one arm behind my back to even the odds.”
“Fight?”
“Yeah.”
“I’m no good at it.”
“I’ll train you up,” Merlyn insisted. “I trained with my dad. He’s not the best, but he has some moves. Others I learned online. There’s this guy called Hung Lu. Sounds like a joke, but he’s like Bruce Lee’s cooler brother.”
“You really like fighting?”
“I guess I got a taste for it,” Merlyn said. “You do something long enough, it sort of becomes hard to stop.” Nicholas recalled how swift Sam had been on his feet during training, a result of a life spent on the demon front-lines. He couldn’t believe that only a few days had passed since Sam trained him in the garden. It felt like months. So much had happened. So much had changed.
“You fought many things?” Nicholas asked.
“Bury’s pretty sleepy, but some of the villages round here are nasty. Ever hear of a krypost?” Nicholas shook his head. “Two heads, six legs, and more teeth than I’ve ever been able to count. They’re attracted to farmhouses, no idea why. This one time, Dad took me out to Ixworth. We fought three of them. I killed one and its mate took a bite out of my thigh. Wanna see?”
Merlyn began unbuttoning his jeans.
“I’m good,” Nicholas said, waving his free arm and laughing.
“Knew I could break you out of that mood.”
They exchanged a look that Nicholas couldn’t quite understand. Something flickered in his belly and he got to his feet, trying to ignore it.
“What was it like when it bit you? What were you thinking?” he asked.
“I don’t really like thinking. I like doing. So, fight?”
Nicholas didn’t think he had the energy for more training. He looked up as a shadow fell into the garden, finding Nale in the kitchen doorway.
“Time to stick pointy things in bad guys?” Merlyn asked.
Nale nodded.
And just like that, training was the least of Nicholas’s worries.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
On The Water
GULLS CHATTERED ABOVE THE WATER, PAINTING rippling white reflections across the surface as Sam pulled the Morris Minor up to the docks. He and Liberty got out of the car, and Sam took a breath of the salty air, surveying the moored boats. He felt heavy. Weighed down by ghosts.
Attempting to focus on the task at hand, he pushed the memory of Nicholas’s sullen face from his mind. Pitying the boy wouldn’t do him any good. Nicholas was tough, but he’d need to toughen up even more if he wanted to survive the coming days.
Sam strolled beside the water with Liberty, looking for the boat that Merlyn had directed them to.
“What do you think?” he asked.
“Pretty place,” Liberty commented.
“I meant about this wild goose chase, and you know it.”
Liberty flashed him a smile. “I don’t mind chasing a few geese if it brings Laurent down.”
“Well said.”
Sam tugged at his shirt collar. The midday heat was unbearable. He attempted to brush his natural suspicions aside. He hated that it had come to this: questioning the intentions of other Sentinels. Malika’s plan to corrupt them had worked, even without the gauntlets. Paranoia was slithering through the community, infecting it with disquiet and fear.
He clutched the satchel at his side, reassured by the pouches huddling inside. They may not have stopped Malika, as far as he knew, but her screams had been sign enough that they inflicted horrendous pain. He’d use them against her again without hesitation, and this time he’d make sure she didn’t have anybody to feed on to replenish her strength.
“That Nale chap,” he said. “What do you know of him?”
Liberty took a moment to answer. “He’s tough to get a read on,” she said eventually. “I’ve only caught snatches. He’s got a strong mind. You know how he doesn’t say much? That’s what his head’s like.”
“But... snatches...?”
“Just images, really. A few feelings.” Liberty glanced at him. “Something scared him.”
“A Hunter? Scared?”
“I know. Look out for the flying piglets. But he was scared. And there was an image of a well. Sort of half-glimpsed, though, like one of his eyes was sealed shut.”
“What do you think it means?” Sam asked.
“I’ll ask him,” Liberty said, her eyebrows arching mischievously.
“You think he’d mind? Considering how you got that information?”
“About as much as I’ll mind when he crushes my skull with his bare hands.”
Sam was about to reply when he spotted a narrow boat set a little apart from the others. The chipped silver paint bearing its name gleamed against the surrounding maroon panels.
Darling Cassandra.
Lights came through the windows. Thin curtains glowed. Plants cluttered the roof. It looked cosy; almost like somewhere a gnome might live. If gnomes existed, Sam thought.
They approached gingerly and Sam rapped on the door.
It burst open immediately. A small, mole-like face blinked out at him. The man’s eyes were a little too far apart and surprisingly dark. His nearly-hairless head gleamed in the sunlight and his round face quickly split into a bucktoothed grin.
“Gosh, is it that time already?” the man said. “You forget, don’t you? How short the days can be. Even in the summer. Not that we’ve had much of a summer this year, eh?”
Sam was taken aback. Who was this odd-looking gentleman and what could he know about Laurent?
The man on the boat craned through the door to peer briefly at the sun.
“Helios,” he greeted cordially, before turning to Sam. “I’m sorry, you’ll have to come back later, I’m very busy.”
“Solomon?” Sam asked before the man could disappear back inside. The dark eyes scrunched up in contemplation. Sam could swear there was uneasiness there, too, as if the man had been caught in headlights.
“I really am very busy,” he said.
“It won’t take a moment. Please.”
The man relented, vanishing into the boat. His voice sailed through the doorway: “Tea? I only have herbal, caffeine’ll rot your gut. Come on inside, then! Keep the door open too long and the sun himself will try to join us, and he’s terrible company on a hot day like this.”
Pausing a moment to gather his wits, Sam reminded himself that first appearances could be deceiving, especially nowadays. He ducked through the tiny door, Liberty close behind.
The boat was narrow, and the interior was a veritable mare’s nest. Sam was struck by the light. Coloured handkerchiefs were draped over lamps and the effect was part jazz bar, part carnival. Small mirrors and figurines all crowded onto perilously narrow shelves.
The man’s head appeared from behind a partition where Sam assumed the kitchen lay.
“It is Solomon, isn’t it?” Sam called.
“Take a seat,” the man said, ignoring his question. “Kutu will keep you company for the moment.”
Sam hoped he wasn’t referring to the stuffed rabbit on the table, though there was nothing else in the vicinity that seemed appropriate. Eyeing the animal, he had barely sunk into a rickety wooden chair before the stranger bustled into the room with a tray. Liberty lingered by the door. Her keen gaze roved from one odd tri
nket to the next and Sam hoped she’d sense any imminent danger.
“Kutu does witter on a bit, but his heart’s in the right place,” the man said conversationally, setting the tray down and pouring them each a handle-less cup of something hot. “Rabbits,” the man tutted. “They do make a fuss. Marvellous at keeping secrets, but skittish, you know.”
Sam could sympathise – he suddenly felt twitchy himself. Why had Merlyn sent them here? Though the stranger didn’t appear dangerous, it was becoming increasingly difficult to tell. Sam’s hopes for a lead on Laurent were rapidly fading, and he resolved to sip the tea (or whatever it was) and then be on his way.
“There,” the man sighed. Sam noticed for the first time that he was wearing a bow tie. It was turquoise and paired with a shiny silver trouser suit. The cuffs of his orange shirt glittered. “It’s Jasmine, by the way. The tea. Night-blooming, which always struck me as rather lovely. A flower that comes out in the dark. I can appreciate that sort of quirkiness, can’t you?”
Sam nodded. “Yes, I suppose I can,” he admitted.
“Sam,” the other man said. “Samuel. A Hebrew name, originally, if I’m not mistaken. You’re a good judge of character, aren’t you? And though you have power, you’d much rather share it with others. Funny how names can dictate who we are.”
“I didn’t realise I’d come here to be read,” Sam murmured. So this man was a psychic? A Sensitive, perhaps? Or, by the looks of his outfit, a one-time fairground worker who’d sufficiently honed his natural observational skills to convince people he had mysterious powers.
Oh, Merlyn, Sam thought. Have you been duped by a talented con artist?
He couldn’t help feeling disappointed. Liberty could probably tell him more about Laurent than this man.
“You’re the judge, why don’t you tell me what you read in me?” the man said.
He gave him an encouraging smile, buckteeth protruding more than ever.
Sam drew a breath. “You like animals.”
The man shook his head. “No, no, no,” he reprimanded. “Too easy. Something else. Go on. Something that actually means something.”
Sam’s patience was dwindling. He cast around the boat, looking for clues about this odd little man. There was a framed magazine cover. Paranormal Times. This man beamed from the cover, a silly magician’s hat on his head. It wasn’t the only frame, either. There were more, most of them photos of the little man with bleach-teethed people who looked famous. The one of him with Prince William stood out.
Ruins Page 24