by Mike Shevdon
Distracted for a moment from the pain, I felt the well of power within me dilate and spill out. It ran out away across the grass like invisible tendrils seeking warmth and life. It crept around Amber, but she slapped it back with a warding. Instead, it spread out through the trees, winding through the gaps in the fences, creeping across roads and under cars, into houses, through the cracks in windows, under the gaps in doors.
All around me there was life. The dense urban landscape was teaming with it, each buzzing with energy, radiating warmth. The threads of power tapped into that energy like roots absorbing ground water. Each tendril took a little of what it could find, pulling back a little of the whole. It travelled back along the threads, building until it was a stream of life, a flood of energy and power.
I felt the pain diminish as the power sang within me. I felt the cold dark power withdraw back into the well inside me as warmth crept back into my veins. My cold, pallid skin warmed and then flushed as it flooded my senses. Inside me, the twisted agony unravelled to be replaced by a tenderness that spoke of healing. The release of not needing to hold back the pain was like a weight taken from me, and I could finally let it go.
I opened my eyes to find Amber looking down at me. “Not too much at once,” she said. “Slowly. I think the bleeding is slowing.”
“I feel like I’ve been desiccated,” I told her in a hoarse whisper, “my throat is so dry,”
She looked around. “If I leave you here for five minutes are you going to die on me?”
I looked around from my limited position lying on the bench. “I don’t see what damage I can do, except perhaps bludgeon myself to death on the bench.”
“I’ll be back,” she said. She walked away into the dark and quickly vanished into the shadows. I closed my eyes for a second – I’m sure it was only a second.
“He’s not dead, he’s snoring,” said a voice. I opened my eyes to find a pale face under a baseball cap looking down at me. “And he’s got his eyes open.”
I blinked. The voice sounded black and street, but the skin was very definitely pale.
“Look at this, bro?” said another voice. The face over me moved back revealing another in the same style – except this one was brandishing my sword. In my injured state I’d forgotten about it, and my glamour must have slipped enough for it to become visible and obvious.
“I’d leave that alone if I were you,” I croaked, but I was in no state to enforce the threat. They both ignored me.
“That’s wicked,” said the second guy. He sliced at the air experimentally, making his friend step back. To my trained eye, he was more likely to injure himself than anyone else, but the problem of getting it back remained.
“Just give it to me, OK?” I asked, hoarsely.
“Or what?” he said, posturing with the sword.
Amber spoke from behind him. “Or we find out how far you can run without a head.” He spun round to find her standing behind him, holding her own blade alongside her leg. As he turned, she stepped in and her blade flashed. She stepped back, with her blade resting by her leg again.
“Missed,” he said, grinning broadly at her. Then his trousers began to slowly droop as his belt fell into two pieces and gave way.
“Unless you can use that, you’d better put it down. Slowly and gently,” she warned.
He was caught between holding the blade and holding his trousers up. He glanced to his friend.
“You’ll never make it,” she warned.” I’ll cut your hamstrings so you can’t run and then I’ll slice you into little pieces,” she said.
“Believe her,” I rasped.
He glanced back at me.
“Last warning,” she said. “Sword. Ground. Now.”
He exchanged glances with this friend and for a moment I thought they were going for it, but he gently lowered the blade to the ground.
“You’re wiser than you look.” said Amber.
“You’re fuckin’ crazy carrying stuff like that around. The plod‘ll have you banged up, well tight.”
“We don’t bother the police, and they don’t bother us. Walk on. Don’t come back.” He backed away and joined his friend and they both jogged away.
“Fuckin’ crazies!” he shouted back when they were far enough away to think they were safe.
Amber stared after them, then collected my sword.
“They’re just kids,” I said.
“Time was,” said Amber, “they’d have more knowledge, and more fear. Here.” She passed me a plastic bottle. “It’s some kind of sports drink. I found it in the vending machine in the college. The sugar will get you on your feet and you need the liquid.”
I sat up slowly and struggled with the top of the bottle. I felt weak as a kitten. She pulled it from me, twisted off the top and handed it back, sitting down beside me with my scabbarded sword resting on her lap.
“You lost a lot of blood. If I hadn’t followed you, you’d be dead.”
I licked my chapped lips. “You were following me?”
“Someone has to look after you,” she said.
“Garvin,” I said, tracing my way back through her words.
“He asked me to keep track of you,” she said. “Looks like he made the right decision. No, don’t sit up. You’re going to be light-headed for a bit.
“How did you find me?”
“I saw you leave the courts with one of the drivers, figured that you were going back for the horseshoes. I waited at Claire’s flat, saw you enter and then leave.”
“Someone cleaned up the mess before I got there,” I told her.
“After you left I walked it through. A professional job – very thorough. I thought you would head back to the courts, so I headed back after you, except you didn’t arrive.”
I took a long drink and sifted through her words.
“That doesn’t explain how you found me. I could have gone back with Dave in the car. I would have been on the motorway by now.”
“That would have been slow,” she remarked. “Why take the long route when you can use the Ways.”
“Why are you avoiding my question?” I asked her.
“It’s a secret,” she said. “If I tell you, I have to kill you.”
Was she teasing me? “You’ve tagged me,” I said. “There’s something…” A realisation dawned. What did Garvin always tell me to take with me? “My sword. That’s how you found it after I lost it on the Tor. That’s how you found me now.”
“All the Warders weapons are warded for finding,” said Amber. “You never know when you might lose one and need to get it back. If you’d left it behind you’d have been dead. Who shot you?”
“Sam Veldon. He told me he had something for me. He didn’t say it was a bullet.”
“You’ll have to track him down. Give him something in return,” she said, with a wry smile.
“The edge of a blade?” I tried to laugh but it emerged as a dry cough. “No, someone put him up to it. Someone guided him to me. I need to know who it was.”
“OK. You get what you need from him and then you kill him.”
“He thinks I killed Claire. He’s just an angry man who lashes out at the nearest target.”
“If you don’t want to do it, I’ll do it for you,” she volunteered.
“It’s not a matter of… do we have to kill everyone?” I asked.
“It’s a challenge. If you don’t deal with it, it will only come back and bite you.” She was sat on the bench beside me, relaxed and calm, talking about murdering someone.
“He’s not fey,” I told her. “He’s not challenging me. He doesn’t even know me. He’s just angry because he messed up his relationship with Claire and now she’s lying in a morgue somewhere with her throat cut. The only thing he can do to assuage his loss is to lash out. I was nearest, that’s all.”
“He’ll try again, mark my words.”
“Then I’ll kill him when he does, if it’ll make you happy.” I said. “Aren’t you going to give me a har
d time about letting those yobs take my sword?” I asked between swigs. “Garvin would.”
“No. I’d give you a hard time about getting shot. But it’s too late for that as well.”
I drank some more. It was sweet, fizzy and tasted like cough mixture, but at that moment it was like nectar. “I’m pretty useless at this, aren’t I?” I admitted, shaking my head. “I guess I just don’t have the killer instinct.
“There are two kinds of Warders, Niall, dead and alive. We were all useless to start with. We all made mistakes, and we have the scars to prove it. Those that didn’t make the grade aren’t here to boast about it.”
“What about Garvin?”
“Not all scars are on the outside. Fellstamp made a bad decision. He’s paying for it now.”
That silenced me. I’d fought Fellstamp in my initiation into the Warders, and he’d lost when I’d pierced his shoulders with a long sword. We both knew that I’d won because he was wielding the wrong weapon. If he’d had something lighter he’d have slaughtered me. I gulped some more of the fizzy drink and burped noisily.
“Charmed,” said Amber.
“So you would have gone in heavy?” I asked her. “With Sam, I mean?”
“I’ve already given you that advice and you made excuses for him. Either kill or be killed, that’s the rule.”
“You have a black and white view of the world, you know?”
“I’m not the one sitting in a pool of his own blood,” she pointed out.
I looked down at the congealed stain on the bench. She had a valid point. Maybe the rain that was starting to spot the pathway around us would wash it away. “Drink up,” she encouraged. “You need the liquid, and those friends of yours will be back shortly. Paddington Green Police Station is just beyond and they’re just the type to break a habit of a lifetime and enter a police station willingly to report us.”
“The police won’t believe them,” I said. “They’re more likely to be carrying themselves.”
“Nevertheless,” said Amber. “I’ll escort you back. You need to rest. You can hunt Sam down tomorrow.” She stood, and I pushed myself up to my feet. “Can you walk?” she asked.
“I’ll manage,” I said.
“We’ll take the easy route,” she said, looking me up and down. “You know what your problem is, Niall?”
“Which one?” I asked. It seemed like I had so many problems.
“You don’t accept being fey.”
“I thought I was doing quite well,” I said. “I’ve coped with most things so far.”
“That’s not what I mean,” she said. “You call your power when you need it. You summon it when you have a purpose, but most of the time you bury it within you. You hide it, because you’re afraid it makes you less than you are.”
“And you don’t?”
“My power is always with me. It lives and breathes within me and is as much a living part of me as my fingers, or my heart. It’s there when I eat, and when I sleep. It’s in every breath.”
“I’m not sure I’m ready to be like that,” I said.
“When you are, and someone tries to shoot you, you’ll be able to finish them before they finish you,” she said. “Until then, you need someone to watch your back.”
She led the way across the grass, waiting when I lagged behind.
TEN
Alex crept along the passage to her room wrapped in glamour designed to turn away curious eyes, checking behind her in case anyone had seen her come in. She went to her door and slipped through, checking the corridor once more before gently closing the door and letting the glamour fall away.
“You’re back late.”
“Jeez!” Alex spun around to find Blackbird sitting on her bed, her hands folded in her lap. “What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?” She laid her hand on her heart. She could actually feel it beating. “What are you doing in my room?”
“Waiting for you.”
“I was out,” said Alex.
“I can see that,” said Blackbird, taking in the stains on the knees of Alex’s jeans, the mud on her trainers, and the dirt smeared into her sweatshirt. “Your father thinks you were looking after the baby.”
“Oh yeah,” said Alex, brushing with her hand at the marks on her sweatshirt. “Sorry about that.” As Blackbird examined her, the stains began to fade subtly. Her hair became less tangled, her hands cleaner.
Blackbird continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I must confess that’s what I thought too, until I got back and found that the baby’s been with Lesley all evening.”
“I kinda got side-tracked,” said Alex. “I bumped into Sparky and he suggested we go out, and one thing led to another.”
“Did it indeed?” Blackbird looked again at the knees of Alex’s jeans, which were hardly stained at all by now. “It led to another, did it?”
“What d’you mean?”
“Alex, you are old enough to become a mother in your own right.”
“A mother! You’re joking, aren’t you?”
“When one thing leads, as you say, to another, there can be unforeseen consequences.”
“You think I’ve been having sex?” Alex laughed. “With Sparky? I can’t believe you’re saying that.”
“I’m not accusing you of anything,” said Blackbird. “I’m simply making you aware of things that may have escaped your notice.”
“I think I know about the birds and the bees,” said Alex. “Mum and me had that conversation years ago.”
“Did she mention that being a mother has responsibilities?” asked Blackbird.
“I guess that kinda goes unsaid.”
“Responsibilities that include being where you said you’ll be, doing what you said you would do, and not leaving other people to pick up the pieces for you when you decide to go off and do something else.”
“I said I was sorry,” said Alex.
“Saying you’re sorry isn’t the same as being sorry,” said Blackbird. “And it’s not me you need to apologise to. You may want to find a moment to apologise to Lesley. She ended up looking after the baby in your absence.”
“I don’t know why I have to look after him anyway,” said Alex.
“I’m not your mother, Alex, and I’m not telling you what to do. However, if you say you will do something, I expect you to do it, or at least try.”
“He’s your baby,” Alex said, resentfully.
“He’s your brother,” Blackbird reminded her.
“Half-brother,” said Alex.
Blackbird stared at her for a moment. “I’m not your wicked stepmother, so I’d prefer that you didn’t paint me as one.”
“That’s OK,” said Alex. “Because I’m not Snow White.”
Blackbird glanced at Alex’s knees again, which showed no signs of the stains that had been evident earlier. “No,” she said, “you’re not.” Alex blushed.
Blackbird stood, and as she did, Alex moved quickly away from the door to the window overlooking the courtyard, leaving a clear exit and staying well out of reach of Blackbird, who smiled slowly. “Since your return to us, your father has asked for you to be given space to come to terms with what happened to you. I think you’ve had space enough, Alex, and it’s time you thought about how you might give something in return.”
“I’m not your babysitter,” said Alex.
“I never said you were,” said Blackbird, “and there are other ways that you could show some gratitude for what you have and some respect for those who provide it, though I can appreciate that a young person might not want to be burdened with a baby,” she said. “It would cramp your style somewhat, I think.”
“What does that mean?” asked Alex.
“Only what it says,” said Blackbird. “Is it your intention to join the Eighth Court, Alex?”
She shrugged. “Not got much choice, have I?”
“There’s always a choice, my dear,” said Blackbird, “and consequences either way, but if you are to join the Eighth Court th
en you will have to pledge allegiance, in blood, on oath. That oath will be binding, and if you swear falsely it will trip on your tongue.”
“Then maybe I won’t swear,” she said.
“That’s your choice,” said Blackbird, “but you will not receive the protection of the court without swearing allegiance.”
“Don’t need protection, do I? I can look after myself.”
“That’s easy to say from a room at the centre of the courts, protected by Warders, surrounded by people you trust. But you’ve been outside, Alex, and I don’t think your memory is so poor that you’ve forgotten what it means to be alone.”
“Yeah, well. I survived.”
“That’s one of the choices,” said Blackbird. “Most of us can survive. We find a way because we have to, but if you want more than mere survival then you need help. That’s what we’re doing, Alex, we’re helping each other to build something better. Think about it.”
Blackbird went to the door and then hesitated. “If I were you,” she said, “I would get myself cleaned up, in bed and at least pretend to be asleep before your father comes back and starts asking the sorts of questions you don’t want to answer.”
“You’re going to tell him?” Alex didn’t want to ask, but she had to know.
“That we talked? No, I don’t think your father needs to be aware of every conversation we have.”
“I meant about coming back late, about not looking after the baby.”
“I won’t mention it, Alex, but that doesn’t mean he won’t find out. Sleep well.”
The door closed behind Blackbird and Alex was left alone, but even so she counted to a hundred before she finally let the glamour go. She was going to have to find somewhere to stash her ruined clothes until she could get them washed. She stripped and dropped all of them behind the chest of drawers, pushing the soiled trainers under the chest with the edge of her foot so they’d be out of sight. The shower she took was hot and long, and after it she felt as if her limbs had turned to jelly. She turned off the light, cracked the door open so that light from the hallway striped up across the carpet and up the wall and slid into bed.