Vowed

by Liz de Jager

  ‘No. Do you mean Thorn? No. Thorn has gone away, Imelda. I don’t think we’ll see him again.’

  Her mouth forms a little ‘oh’ of disappointment before she takes her seat. ‘Well, it would have been nice to meet him, you know? Just once. Or any of them, really.’ She moves a few things around on her desk, getting herself back under control. Then she hovers a pen above a notepad again and nods to me. ‘Okay, I’m all ears, Kit. What is this about, then?’

  Chapter Fourteen

  I tell Imelda about the screwed-up pagan calendar and my attempts to figure it out. I show her the dates and explain I initially thought the disappearances have something to do with the cycles of the year. Someone could be sacrificing the children for prosperity or something, but I’m halfway through it when she starts shaking her head.

  ‘No. No, definitely not. Modern-day pagans would never steal children to sacrifice them. Even if they were unhinged, they would have to answer to their communities. Ethically and morally this is wrong on so many levels.’ She gestures and her bangles tinkle wildly. ‘No. Just no.’

  ‘But what then?’ Dante asks her, speaking for the first time. ‘If this isn’t about witches and things, then what do you think it is?’

  ‘I don’t know. I don’t know enough about the case at all. Do you have anything else with you?’

  To my surprise Dante hands her a USB stick from his pocket. ‘What we were given is on there. I scanned everything in this morning when I got to the office.’

  Imelda nods in approval. ‘He’s a clever one, Kit. Keep him around.’

  Dante practically squirms in his seat at the approval and I roll my eyes at him. He’s like a puppy that is just aching to have its ears stroked.

  She powers up a super sleek-looking laptop and I edge further away, not wanting to be the one to jinx the electronics. She plugs the USB in and spends some time looking through the papers.

  ‘I’m at a loss. If the children were taken in sequence, I would have, like you, thought it was to perform some kind of ritual. But there’s nothing here that makes sense at all. No sign left of anyone entering the rooms or anything else taken. A few rooms were disturbed and all of them were high up . . . a cat burglar? Batman? I don’t know.’

  ‘Argh!’ I sit forward and press the heels of my palms into my eyes so that I see stars in the darkness. ‘Prof, I thought you were going to have the magic answers here.’

  ‘Oh, funny, Kit, I never have the magic answers. I have ideas and thoughts but in this case, I’m not sure what to think.’

  She stands up and goes over to her bookcase, running a finger along the various spines. She pulls out a thick paperback and I catch half a glimpse of a title: Guide to England’s Legends.

  She flicks through the pages, going back and forth before shaking her head. ‘Nothing in this. I thought maybe it could be related to the area, but nothing’s popping here. What do you know about the area?’

  ‘Uhm.’ Dante brings out his little notebook and I try to contain my surprise. He seems a bit smug and gives me the side-eye. ‘What? I can’t have done my own research?’ he asks, before addressing us both. ‘Well, I did a quick search and Brixton is mentioned in the Domesday Book, called Brixiestan. This guy, a Saxon lord called Brixi, erected a stone to mark the place where the hundred court was held. It was the local district and the court met to administer law and keep the peace.’ He snaps his little notebook shut. ‘That’s what I’ve got.’

  I’m tempted to slow clap but Imelda holds up a finger. ‘That’s interesting.’ She makes a note on a notepad to her left. ‘Do you know anything else about this chap?’

  Dante reluctantly shakes his head and I flutter my hands. ‘Never even heard of the guy till now,’ I admit.

  She stares at me for a few seconds, her thoughts clearly elsewhere. ‘When are you going back?’

  ‘Tonight, at seven.’

  She checks her watch. ‘Call me in the morning, let me see what I can find out about this guy Brixi. I’ll also look into Brixton in general and see if anything pops.’

  With that a very unsatisfactory meeting comes to an end but it was worth it for Imelda’s company alone. She hugs me fiercely and then her assistant sees us out.

  ‘How did you get here so fast?’ I ask Dante as we walk down the stairs. ‘Fly?’

  ‘Nope.’ He looks around and points. ‘Like you. By bike.’

  ‘Seriously? They don’t teach you about originality in Spook school?’

  He looks exasperated but grins. ‘What? I had to BEG to get that baby. Isn’t she awesome?’

  I cringe a bit at his use of the word awesome when I look over at the motorbike. ‘It’s a Kawasaki. And it’s green. Like Kermit green.’

  ‘Hey, don’t hate the green thing.’

  I shake my head. ‘Just, if we’re going to travel together don’t make it look like we know one another, okay? My street cred would go down the drain.’

  ‘Oh ha ha, very funny.’ He waits for me to zip up my leather jacket and pull on my helmet. ‘Straight through to Brixton?’

  I nod. ‘Go get your bike, let’s see if you can ride.’

  Damn him, but he can actually ride. Not much better than me, but I give a few motorists near heart attacks and he keeps up for most of it. Now where did a nice boy like him learn to ride a motorbike dirty?

  We get to Brixton early and park near the market. I felt my phone vibrate on the way over so I pull it out to check on it while Dante parks his bit of Japanese machine.

  The text is from Aiden and, like him, it wasn’t very elaborate but it was all spelled correctly. Sorry about last night. Had to go out with Dad and we’re only back now. Want to meet up?

  I work the keypad and write back: Maybe later. Talking to some people tonight. New case, working with a Spook for Suola. Long story.

  Almost immediately I get a message back that reads: SPOOK???!?!?!?! WTF???!?!? Be careful. Keep your sword handy. Don’t trust them.

  His eloquence makes me laugh and Dante shoots me an enquiring look as he walks up.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Aiden. He seems alarmed.’ I flash the screen at him.

  ‘Be careful?’ Dante’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. ‘What? I’m going to chop you up and use you in some kind of stew and offer you to the red queen for dinner?’

  ‘That’s disgusting.’

  ‘Tell him that.’

  We grab hot drinks from a small cafe and wander around the streets, taking in the vibrant street life. The place feels metropolitan and a bit wild. I hear Arabic, English, Russian and Polish being spoken. We are passing a tiny shop selling all kinds of kitsch toys when a small Asian lady bumps into Dante. He opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can say anything she launches a tirade of words at him and storms off. I watch in shock as he turns back to me and shrugs, looking bemused.

  ‘No idea what that was about,’ he says. ‘Maybe one of my real parents pissed her off and she recognizes me.’

  I shrug and try and catch sight of her among the crowd but she’s nowhere to be seen. ‘It will forever be a mystery,’ I intone in a voice that makes him laugh.

  What I like about Brixton is that there is music everywhere, blasting from individual radios and speakers in the various shops. Outside a barber’s a group of four guys stand, harmonizing. They are dressed like gangsters from the Forties and are crooning something I’ve never heard before. I throw a bunch of coins from my pocket into the waiting hat and one of the guys does a deep bow as he sees the pound coins. We are about to head away when they change their tune from an upbeat toe-tapping song to something slower, a little bit melancholy. I stop in my tracks as if I’ve walked into a wall.

  ‘Kit?’ Dante pauses at my side. ‘Are you okay?’

  His words only reach me peripherally as I turn back and look at the four guys. One of them had started the new song, but the group are so attuned to each other that they all pick up the rhythm of the music. The tune is familiar and my mind reels. This is the same l
ullaby that I heard Thorn sing in Blackhart Manor when he woke up the scrying mirror. Strains of it were in the song he sang when he helped Istvan open the gateway between our world and the prison where the Elder Gods were trapped.

  I turn back and watch them perform; the lullaby, bobbing and weaving through the chorus of something else, which they then segue into without a moment’s beat or hesitation.

  ‘Kit?’

  Dante’s touch on my arm is tentative and it jerks me from my memories.

  ‘Sorry.’ I put on a smile but my face feels stiff and awkward. ‘I thought I recognized the song.’

  ‘I didn’t really pay attention.’ He’s watching me carefully, as if he’s worried I might do something strange. And it’s not just him – the performers are watching us too, and I wonder if I look as wild eyed as I feel. To mask my minor mental crisis, I turn away and walk rapidly up the road, towards the flats.

  ‘That was weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so freaked out.’

  ‘The song, the lullaby.’ How do I explain it to him? A boy I cared about deeply sang that song to talk to a magic mirror and then later, the lullaby helped wake up a bunch of ancient banished gods? ‘I’ve not actually heard anyone else sing it before now.’

  ‘Now I want to hear this thing, it sounds pretty special.’

  ‘No, don’t go back. Don’t talk to them.’

  He considers me for a few seconds before nodding. ‘Okay, as you wish. Do you want to sit down?’

  Do I look that bad? I take a deep breath and calm my nerves. I’m being stupid and overreacting to a bloody song. I run a hand through my hair, straighten my blouse and tug at my leather jacket. I pull my shoulders back, lift my chin and close my eyes for a second, getting my head back into the game.

  ‘I’m good, thanks.’ I smile at Dante and this time it’s a real smile rather than something twisty and weird. ‘Sorry about that.’

  ‘Yeah, I still don’t believe you. But we can let it go. For now, as long as you tell me what this is about at some stage.’

  I give a quick nod.

  We walk a few more metres before I look at him. ‘Hey, why are you wearing your suit?’

  ‘I didn’t have time to change. I got to work, had a shower and changed into the spare I had in the office. I’ve not been home yet today.’

  ‘Very dedicated, I’m super impressed. I hope the kids don’t think you’re too dodgy to talk to.’ I laugh at his outraged expression as he tugs at his suit jacket. ‘What did your boss say about it all?’

  ‘He gave me a stern lecture. We’re understaffed at the moment and don’t have any senior agents to oversee this, except for him. He laid down the law: no fraternizing, no jaunts into the Otherwhere, no doing anything illegal.’

  ‘Oh.’ A beat, then I ask, ‘Does he expect me to chop you up and sell you to the sluagh for dinner?’

  ‘I think it’s fair to say that both our sides’ concerned parties seem to have trust issues. With one another.’

  ‘But we’re okay?’

  ‘We are,’ he assures me.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Diane is sitting on the low wall near the block of flats, phone in hand. Today she’s dressed in a tiny skirt, layered leggings and a pair of genuinely ugly yellow boots. She stands up once we near her and gives us a smile. Her hair is an untidy mess of little round nests and I envy her her style and sense of self.

  ‘Hi. I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

  I frown at her in surprise. ‘We said we’d come.’

  ‘I know that now.’

  She gives Dante a slow look and I’m not sure if she approves or disapproves of the suit he’s wearing.

  ‘You look like a cop,’ she tells him.

  ‘Lose the tie and carry your jacket,’ I suggest to him. ‘It’ll make you look less like a grown-up when we meet the kids.’

  ‘How old are you?’ Diane asks as she leads us towards the main building.

  ‘I’m seventeen, almost eighteen and he’s, I think . . . twenty?’

  Dante nods. ‘You?’

  ‘Fifteen.’ She watches Dante again and there’s a crease between her brows. ‘How old were you when you got inked?’

  ‘Sixteen. I lied about my age. I looked older than I was but I got my dad’s signature forged to get it done.’

  I’m both surprised and appalled at his admission but Diane seems really impressed. ‘Is it big?’

  ‘Upper arm, shoulder, part of my back and up into my neck.’ He’s untied his tie and opens his collar for her to see the black marks that look sharp enough to impale yourself on. ‘It was fu— . . . hellishly sore.’

  Diane seems taken by it but doesn’t say anything else until we’re in the building’s foyer.

  ‘The lifts aren’t working,’ she says, pointing at the vandalized doors with their ‘OUT OF ORDER’ signs, and leads us up several flights of stairs. The stairwell smells like bleach and industrial cleaner and it’s clean, despite the graffiti on the walls. ‘But the superintendent is obsessed with making sure everything looks okay. He lets the kids scrawl on the walls in here; it prevents them from doing it outside. As long as it’s nothing rude or drug related.’

  We push through the doors and I’m gratified to see that Dante looks as out of breath as I am, while Diane seems fine. The corridor is long and narrow, with a door every few metres. Diane leads us towards a door near the end of the passage and knocks.

  ‘I’ll see you guys when you’re finished, yeah? I’m on the fourth floor. 4B.’

  With that she leaves us standing while she clatters back along the passage, furiously thumbing her phone’s keypad.

  The door opens and a boy no older than Diane stands there. He’s skinny, all angles and sharp cheekbones with wide intelligent eyes.

  Colin’s eyes flick between us, but come to rest on my face. ‘Are you Kit?’ he asks me, his voice very quiet, as if he’s asking me a secret thing.

  ‘Yes. This is Dante.’

  Colin hesitates for a second but Dante’s smile is patient and he tones down the Spook vibe just enough for Colin to nod briefly before standing aside and letting us in.

  The flat isn’t very big, but I’ve stayed in smaller. There’s an open-plan lounge and dining room. The furniture is old and worn but good quality. The TV isn’t new or a flat screen but it’s in one piece and hooked up to an Xbox. There are books all over the place, stacked haphazardly on the floor, there being no space left on the crammed bookcase. There’s a school blazer slung over one of the small dining table’s chairs and there are school books lying open on the surface.

  I take it all in, noticing a few plants in the corners. The place feels warm and friendly. The walls hold photos of Colin and a younger boy, his brother Adam. There’s one with their mum. She’s a plump woman of mixed race with startlingly green eyes and a wide sunny smile. I like her instantly and, looking at Colin, I can see the hard work she’s done in raising a decent kid.

  ‘Can I get you guys anything to drink?’ He gestures awkwardly to the door that leads off the lounge. ‘We have some Coke or I can make tea.’

  ‘I’m good, thanks,’ I say and carefully move a set of books to the side so I can sit down on the couch.

  Dante also declines something to drink and instead of sitting next to me, he pulls over one of the dining-room chairs.

  ‘Where’s your brother?’ I ask Colin, gesturing for him to sit too.

  ‘Adam’s sleeping. Or trying to. He’s not doing so great.’

  ‘Do you want to tell us what you saw?’

  Dante takes out a small reporter’s notebook and I send him an angry look. Does the guy really think this kid’s going to tell us what we need to know if he sits there and writes everything down like a cop? Dante gives me a complicated eyebrow jiggle before crossly stuffing the notebook back in his pocket when I refuse to stop staring him down.

  ‘What I saw?’ Colin rubs his face and I realize he must be exhausted. ‘I woke up because I heard noises in Adam’s roo
m. When he was little he had really bad dreams so I thought it was just that again. And because he’d woken me, I thought I’d go and check on him. I was just by my door when he screamed so loud.’ Colin’s hands shake visibly at the memory. ‘I ran past my mum’s room and saw she was just waking up – I knew she was exhausted from working a double shift. I get to Adam’s room and I don’t see him at all at first. It was dark in there. Darker than it should have been, you know?’

  I nod, knowing what he means. Some supernatural creatures use the night and darkness to hide themselves. And some have the ability to become the night itself.

  ‘It happened so fast. I keep going over it in my head, to figure it out, and each time it gets harder to make sense of it.’

  Alarm bells go off in my head. His fear will trigger the usual human capacity to try to make sense of the impossible. It means he’ll forget what really happened and I won’t get the full story. I don’t like doing this, but I lean forward, towards Colin, and put my hand on his. The gold band on my finger briefly touches his skin before I drop my hand again. Colin blinks at me and the panic I saw in his face lessens. The smile he gives me is almost one of relief but then he draws a deep breath and continues. ‘I saw something outside the window, just hanging there. I saw it for maybe a second or two and then it was gone. But its face . . .’ His voice is low as it peters out. ‘That was when I saw Adam lying on the floor, covered in blood. His face was messed up.’ He touches his forehead. ‘Cut here and his nose is broken and his arm looked burned. The ambulance came, we went to hospital and they took X-rays and things, and kept him overnight. They talked to my mum a lot too. They were asking about other accidents and things. She was so angry by the time we left, she was shaking.’

  ‘They were making sure that Adam wasn’t being abused,’ Dante says. ‘They have to be careful.’

  Colin nods, looking resigned. ‘I know. The police came and spoke to us and questioned Adam too. But Adam just told them he was playing in his sleep and ran into his wall. I don’t think they believed him. He spoke to a social worker and everything. But they eventually just left.’