by Laura Powell
‘Who is this?’
‘It’s Glory. Glory Starling. Lucas gave me your number – I didn’t –’ Her voice was a raw whisper. ‘I didn’t want to call you. But it’s an emergency. We’re at Lady Merle’s country place. It’s all kicked off. She – he – I think he’s dead. We’re going to –’
The line cut out. When Zoey called back, it went straight to voicemail.
‘You were right,’ she told Jonah grimly. ‘Lucas and Glory must have gone to see Lady Merle. And now they’re in trouble. We need to get to them, fast.’
CHAPTER 31
Troy and Glory had followed Lady Merle out of the marquee to a small and inconspicuous door at the side of the house. They strolled arm in arm, trying to look as if they were merely admiring the grounds. But this entrance also had a staff member hovering nearby, ready to usher guests away from the family’s private quarters.
‘What shall we do?’ Glory whispered, as they backtracked round the corner.
‘I’ll get him distracted so you can sneak in. You’re the witch-damsel in distress – Lady M’s more likely to respond to you. I’ll catch up with you in a bit.’
Troy strode across the grass. ‘Look here,’ he said to the footman or bouncer or whoever he was, ‘I went to get something from my car, only to find some git’s keyed it. The car next to ours too. I thought I saw a kid skulking in the drive, but when I yelled at him he ran off.’
The flunkey was flustered. ‘I’m terribly sorry, sir. Would you mind coming along with me to show us the damage?’
As soon as their backs were turned, Glory nipped along the terrace and through the door that Lady Merle had used. She found herself at the foot of the back stairs. They took her up to a corridor, lined with paintings covered in dark varnish and lit by small hooded lamps. The doors along it were all closed. It was dim and warm and utterly silent. Her wig was itching, and she took it off and bundled it into the cashmere wrap. She wanted Lady Merle to see her as her real self, roots and all.
There was a second set of stairs at the north end of the corridor, steeper and pokier than the last. She climbed them too and found herself on a small landing, with a bathroom to her right and another door in front of her. She hesitated, straining to hear sounds of life. Had she lost Lady Merle already? She’d thought she’d heard voices on her way up the stairs, but all was quiet.
When she opened the door, she found herself in a long low attic. It had been converted into a bed-sitting room, comfortably but sparsely furnished. The furniture that was there was soft and padded. Sitting in an armchair in front of a folding screen was a girl of about seventeen. When she saw her, Glory came to a confused stop. Hair like fire, skin like snow, eyes the colour of violets . . . It was like looking at a picture in a fae-tale.
‘Um, hi,’ said Glory.
The girl turned her head, very slowly. Her eyes were wide and unblinking. Glory realised that she wasn’t so perfect after all. The skin on her right hand was shiny and puckered, like a scar that had healed badly.
‘I . . . don’t . . . know . . . you,’ the girl said at last. There was no alarm or curiosity in her voice, or on that frozen, lovely face. She spoke in an empty monotone.
But Glory knew who she was: Rose Merle, the girl in the riding accident. ‘It’s OK,’ she said. ‘I’m looking for your mum.’
‘Who are you and what are you doing here?’
It was Serena Merle herself, who had come in from an adjoining room. She didn’t appear as wasted as she had in the marquee, but she didn’t look well either. Her eyes wandered and her hands twitched.
‘’Scuse me for the interruption, Your Ladyship, but my name’s Glory Starling and –’
‘Starling?’
‘That’s right. I really need to talk to you. It’s about what you told Charl—’
‘No.’ Serena put her hands over her ears. ‘No, no, no. I don’t want to hear any of it. It’s too late. Too much has happened.’
There was a knock on the door, and a mild-faced woman in a nurse’s uniform entered the room. ‘The car’s here, milady.’
Serena shot Glory an agitated look. ‘I don’t care who you are or what you’re here for. None of that matters any more. My daughter is leaving, and I have to – to –’ She took a deep breath, and made a visible effort to pull herself together. ‘I have to say goodbye.’
She went over to Rose, and helped her out of the chair. ‘You’re going to go and stay in a safe place,’ she told her. ‘The people there will look after you much better than I can.’ Then she took Rose by the shoulders, and looked searchingly into her blank eyes. ‘Remember how much I love you, always. Try to understand. Try to remember.’
‘Always,’ Rose repeated tonelessly. ‘Always.’ Her expression didn’t change. She moved in stiff, precise movements, like a wind-up doll. The nurse took her by the hand and gently led her down the stairs.
Serena watched them go with such anguish on her face that Glory had to look away. But the next moment, the woman rounded on her. ‘How dare you invade my house? On this night of all nights!’
‘I didn’t have no choice! I heard about your talk with Charlie in the Radley, and the plot what you discovered. Somebody’s got to act. So I’m working with Charlie’s son Troy, and we’ve got help from WICA. I’m not giving up. I can’t. I’m – I’m a witch too.’
‘A Starling, you said.’ Serena suddenly softened. ‘Like mother, like daughter . . . Did you see my Rose, how beautiful she is?’
‘Er, yeah.’
‘Talented too. And so popular! Rose was destined for great things. All the lovely, lovely things I never got to do because I turned witchkind.’
Her eyes had glazed over again. She’d definitely been drinking, Glory decided. Or taking pills of some kind. ‘Because I was going to be a star, you know. Everyone said so. But nobody wants a bridled witch on their sets and screens. Or in their centrefolds. The fae stole all that away from me.
‘So when Rose – my beautiful, talented Rose – when it happened to her . . . I was ready to try anything. Anything. Whatever it took.’
‘Rose is a witch?’
‘Not any more.’
‘But . . . once you turn witchkind, the fae’s a part of you. For ever.’
‘Well, we cut it out.’ Her voice was brittle. ‘There’s a clinic that does it. Experimental psychosurgery.’
‘I don’t get it.’ The idea was too appalling to be true. Glory was increasingly disorientated by Lady Merle’s abrupt changes in manner. It was like talking to three or four different women at once. ‘The fae ain’t a piece of your brain. There’s more to it than that.’
‘Like a “ghost in the machine”, as the philosopher said? Maybe so. But the US Inquisition conducted research on witch-brains, back in the fifties. As did the Nazis, in their camps. And in witches, they found a difference . . . a different kind of neural connection . . . “abnormal circuitry”, they called it. I read the research papers, I heard the testimonials. But there wasn’t much time. The surgeon told me the procedure only worked if the fae was caught early. We had to do it quickly, and secretly, before Godfrey found out.’
She was twisting her hands, as she had when making her appeal to Charlie. They looked red and rubbed.
‘It was my idea, but later I began to be afraid. Rose wasn’t, though. She begged me to let her do it. If she was a witch, her life would be ruined, just like mine. How could I refuse? And then when she came out of the operation, and her fae had gone, we were so happy we cried. Imagine that! We thought we’d beaten it. We thought we were safe. And then . . .’
‘Then . . . ?’
‘Then one morning, out in the garden, Rose collapsed. She was unconscious for only a few minutes, but afterwards . . . she was blind. Blind, deaf and dumb. This lasted for twenty-four hours. And although she recovered her three main senses, her memory had gone. She can’t hold a thought for more than a few minutes at a time. Perhaps it’s a mercy, considering what she has become . . .
‘You m
ight have seen the scar on her hand. It’s from when she put her hand into boiling water and didn’t realise it. Rose, you see, has lost the ability to feel pain. She could bleed to death and never notice. That’s why she has to be watched every minute of every day. My daughter is never hurt or scared, but she doesn’t feel anything else either.’ All Rose’s lost emotions flooded into her mother’s voice. ‘When we cut out the fae, we cut out the heart of her. I betrayed my daughter. I betrayed our kind.’
Glory’s body crawled with horror. She wanted to get away from this wild-eyed woman, the memory of the ruined girl, away from this mausoleum of a house. But she had a job to do.
‘Is that why you started helping the covens?’ she asked.
Serena’s hands twisted and turned. ‘I didn’t plan it that way, but soon after Rose’s . . . after Rose . . . I crossed paths with Charlie Morgan. I’d been friends with him and Vince once upon a time. Far away and long ago . . .’
‘More than just friends, I reckon.’ It was Troy, who’d been standing unobserved in the doorway. ‘I saw Rose down in the hall. She’s Uncle Vince’s kid, isn’t she?’
The red hair, Glory thought. Charlie had even hinted at something of the sort, back in the Radley.
‘She’s not Vince’s, she’s mine. My crime. My guilt.’
‘You’re not the criminal,’ said Glory hotly. ‘It was the crooks what did the experimental psycho stuff.’
‘Speaking of crooks,’ said Troy, ‘I’d like to have a chat about His Lordship.’ He shut the door, and moved towards Serena. ‘Circumstances have changed since you went to my father. The Wednesday Coven is ready to offer you its support. But when it comes to identifying the guilty parties, we need more than just your word for it.’
‘We’re out of time.’ Her eyes darted to the clock on the wall. It was quarter to nine. ‘I already told Charlie all I knew.’
Troy wasn’t about to back down. ‘You did your own investigating, didn’t you? There must be some kind of paper trail. This witch they’ve imprisoned –’
‘Don’t worry, darling.’ Serena gave an off-key laugh, and ran her finger around her iron collar. ‘The only captive hag around here is me.’
‘I don’t see why Lord Merle married you, if he hates witchkind so much,’ said Glory.
She laughed again. ‘He hates witchkind because he envies us. Ironic, isn’t it? Godfrey’s got prestige, wealth, influence. But he hasn’t got the fae. The one power he doesn’t have! It eats him up, the bitterness. It’s his obsession. He’s even got a collection of witchwork objects. He keeps them in his den: all polished up, under lock and key. Just like his wife.’
Suddenly she gripped Glory’s wrist, breathless with urgency. ‘Don’t trust them. They hate us, and they want us. They fear us even as they despise us. That will never change.’
Glory shrank back. She didn’t know if Lady Merle was talking about non-witchkind, or men in general, but she was frightened by the mad light in her eyes.
Troy had had enough too. ‘All right. Tell us where your hubby’s office is, and how to get into it. Then we’ll go.’
‘So masterful!’ Serena mocked. ‘Just like your father. In the old days, mind you, it was Vince who had the sex-appeal . . . I always had a weakness for dangerous men. But really, you mustn’t worry. Silas won’t get away with it, and neither will Godfrey.’
‘What d’you mean?’
‘I mean that I’ve made my plans. You’ll understand later. That’s why you have to leave – it’s for your own good.’
But when she went to open the door, she reeled back. Lord Merle was glowering at the top of the stairs.
‘Godfrey! You’re – you’re early. I asked you to meet me at nine.’
‘It’s my own damn house. I’ll come and go however I please. Besides, you’re the one who made all the fuss about saying goodbye to Rose. Pointless as that’ll be.’ He shouldered his way past, and saw Troy and Glory for the first time. ‘Who the hell are you?’
‘They’re nobody, nothing,’ Serena said agitatedly. ‘Just some guests who wandered up here by accident. They’re leaving now.’ She tried to smile at him. ‘Please, Godfrey. Have a seat. The clinic collected Rose earlier, but . . . I . . . I still need to talk to you.’
Lord Merle turned back to Troy. ‘Do I know you? You look familiar.’
‘I don’t think we’ve met,’ Troy said impassively.
Godfrey looked from him to Glory to Serena again. Serena was white-faced and twitching. Glory was staring at the floor. From the folds of her cashmere wrap, which she’d put down on a side table, a hank of brown wig was showing. His voice sharpened. ‘What’s going on?’
Serena took Troy and Glory by the arm and tried to hustle them out of the room. ‘I warned you already. Go.’ She turned back to Lord Merle and smiled brightly. ‘See – they’re leaving! Just like you wanted! Everything’s fine!’
‘I don’t agree. In fact, I’m calling security.’
He marched to the door.
‘No,’ Serena burst out. ‘Don’t – you mustn’t!’
She turned to Troy, and threw her arms around him. ‘Make him stay,’ she pleaded. ‘You have to.’
Troy tried to push her off. She clung on, babbling.
Her husband stared at her in disgust.
‘Get a grip of yourself, for Christ’s sake. Or take another damn pill. Maybe then you’ll turn into as much of a vegetable as your daughter –’
Crack.
Glory didn’t understand what had happened at first. Even when Lord Merle fell to the floor she didn’t quite believe it. Then she saw the gun Serena had pulled from Troy’s holster, and the blossom of red on Lord Merle’s shirtfront.
‘Oh God,’ said Serena. ‘Oh God oh God.’ She began to shudder all over. Quickly, brutally, Troy wrested the gun out of her hands and shut the door. Then he knelt by the body.
‘Is he dead?’ Glory asked, forcing all her strength into her voice to keep it firm. She mustn’t be weak. Troy mustn’t know.
‘Almost.’
Serena collapsed into Rose’s chair. She put her face in her hands.
‘Should we get a doctor . . . or . . . ?’ Glory asked.
‘It’s too late for that. Still, we might be able to get something out of him.’
Troy put his hand on Lord Merle’s shoulders and shook him. The dying man made a clotted, choking sound. A bubble of blood oozed from his lips. Glory had to look away. ‘Jesus, Troy,’ she muttered.
‘This isn’t the time to be delicate,’ Troy snapped, putting the gun back under his jacket. ‘Go outside and check no one heard the commotion. We can’t have anyone coming up here.’
Glory took a final look at the scene. Serena was quaking and gasping. Troy had blood on his hands and shirt. He shook Merle again. ‘Look at me,’ he hissed. ‘Look at me.’ Merle groaned. There was a faint, acrid smell of gunpowder.
At least there were no sounds of alarm or activity from the rest of the house. Out on the landing, all Glory could hear was her own heart, banging against her ribs. She closed her eyes. Then she got out her mobile.
There was little or no reception in the attic. She had to go down to the shadowy corridor below before she got a signal. In one of the bedrooms off the hall, she dialled the number Lucas had given her.
‘Connor,’ said a voice the other end.
‘Hello? Hello?’
‘Who is this?’
‘It’s Glory. Glory Starling. Lucas gave me your number – I didn’t – I didn’t want to call you. But it’s an emergency. We’re at Lady Merle’s country place. It’s all kicked off. She – he – I think he’s dead. We’re going to –’
She froze. Someone was climbing the back stairs. A voice called out, ‘Serena? It’s Silas. Am I going the right way?’
CHAPTER 32
Gideon snapped iron cuffs around Lucas’s wrists and yanked him to his feet. They stared at each other through the swirling dust. Gideon’s pale eyes were cold, amused.
‘Well,�
� he said. ‘This is interesting.’
Lucas gathered together the shreds of his story. He began to say something about the Hammers, about having a few too many, taking a wrong turn –
‘Indeed you have.’ Gideon smiled with real pleasure. Then he spoke into his earpiece. ‘Alpha One to Alpha Two. Protocol Six security breach in one-oh-nine, requesting back-up.’
The fae-dust was already fading away. Soon there would be no trace of it. Lucas knew, however, that there was no hope of denying what Gideon had witnessed. It was witchwork of a very high order. He cast around for an explanation, however hopeless.
‘There was an intruder in the office,’ he said. ‘I saw them from the courtyard. I wasn’t thinking clearly but I thought I should . . . y’know . . . chase them off. But as I was coming through the window, the dust appeared. I think whoever it was must’ve been a witch. I mean, that fog stuff wasn’t normal, was it? Anyway, I never got a proper look at the person. As I was trying to get in, they fought to get out. Then you arrived – it all got confused – and –’
‘So how did this other intruder get in and out?’
‘Um, the same way I did, I guess. Through the catacombs. I found the door in the cloister already open. You know, someone should probably go and search the place.’
There was a knock on the door. Lucas was relieved. If he was lucky, it would be an officer he knew. He must stick to his story until the proper authorities took over and his father or Jonah were brought in.
But the newcomer was not an inquisitorial guard or even a directorate worker. It was Zilla, the inquisitor playing the witch at the Hammers’ mock-trial. She was wearing her costume under her coat, but there was no sign of the flirtatious party-girl of before. If this was ‘Alpha Two’, then Lucas was in serious trouble.
‘Watch him,’ Gideon told her as soon as she arrived. ‘And check this.’ He tossed her Lucas’s rucksack, then made a call on his phone. ‘Hello? It’s Hale . . . I’m sorry to disturb your evening, sir, but there’s been a break-in at your office . . . yes . . . I think so . . .’ He glanced at Lucas. ‘There’s something else . . .’ He went out in the corridor and shut the door.