by J S Landor
‘Centuries!’ In the back of Jack’s mind a snake hissed, a bright red one from the Tarot cards. Hadn’t Jago said snakes could shed their skins and be reborn? ‘Who are you?’
‘Jago Flyn. I’m an artist.’
‘You’re lying!’
‘No, Jack, I’m not. I haven’t lied to you once. In this lifetime, that is who I am.’
‘But that’s only part of it. You’re not telling me everything.’
‘And why should I? This is my business, my mirror. I refuse to make excuses for my actions. We all withhold the truth to protect our own interests. Including you, my boy. Take your little story about Indigo.’
‘That was different!’
‘Was it? You were hiding the truth. You had the mirror all along.’
Jack’s eyes blazed. He began to see how completely he’d been duped. ‘You knew I had it, didn’t you? When you read my palm. Just like you knew there was no keeper. This place is automated. You tricked me to get what you want. You couldn’t care less about me.’
‘Oh, I wouldn’t say that. I’ve enjoyed your company, truly I have. We had fun.’
‘Liar! You don’t mean anything you say!’ Jack hurled himself at Jago and knocked him against the wall, punching and kicking for all he was worth. ‘Give – it – back!’
Jago doubled over, moaning, but quickly recovered himself. He grabbed the hood of Jack’s fleece, yanked him backwards and hooked a leg behind his knees. Jack landed on his back with a thump and by the time he scrambled up, it was too late. Jago had thrown the mirror high above them.
‘Pi!’ he bellowed.
A harsh cry cut through the air – tsche, tsche, tsche – and as the mirror tumbled out of view down the stairwell, a flash of black and white swooped past them. Taking advantage of the distraction, Jago seized Jack’s arm and twisted it behind his back.
‘This is one wrestling match I can’t let you win. The fun and games are over.’
‘Got it!’ called a voice from below. ‘Hurry up, will ya!’
‘Patience,’ Jago replied. ‘We have a fighter on our hands.’
‘What, the kid who can’t throw straight? Don’t make me laugh! Bring ’im ’ere, I’ll sort ’im out!’
Below them, a blond boy leered up from the red sofa. Jack glared back, kicking and struggling as Jago frog-marched him down the stairs. No wonder he’d missed the boy hiding in the lantern room. He was an animus.
‘Jack, meet Pi. Be warned, he has no manners of any sort.’
‘We’ve already met. He’s bad luck,’ snapped Jack, wishing the stone he’d thrown had been a grenade.
‘Huh! I like that,’ said Pi. ‘Worth my weight in gold, ent I, Jago? Brought you a fortune from that big ol’ house.’
‘That’s enough, Pi. Blowing your own trumpet is one of your less appealing habits.’
‘But you were proud of me!’ Pi leapt up in excitement. ‘Go on. Tell him!’
‘So it was you!’ Jack wriggled free at last and turned to face Jago. ‘You robbed Lady Harington.’
‘Not ’im. Me!’ said Pi. ‘Class job ’n all. Took skill and guts. But you wouldn’t know about them things.’
‘For the last time, Pi!’ roared Jago. ‘I’m warning you. If you don’t cut it out …’
Pi made a zipping motion across his mouth. The sofa springs gave a twang like a harp as he hastily sat back down.
‘Oh, I get it,’ said Jack. ‘The virus, that was you too, wasn’t it? You want the ship to go down … For God’s sake, Jago! You’re going to kill hundreds of people!’
‘Now hold on!’ Jago’s ears and cheeks went crimson. ‘Let’s get one thing straight. I’m here to retrieve what’s mine. That is all.’
He snapped his fingers at Pi, avoiding Jack’s horrified gaze. With a knowing smirk, Pi leapt up and handed him the mirror.
‘Don’t fob me off,’ fumed Jack. ‘Why steal the money if you only wanted the mirror?’
‘Why not? Because it was there!’ barked Jago. ‘Pi and me, we’re opportunists. We make a living where we can.’
‘And that creep Lonsdale asked for it,’ Pi chipped in. ‘Treated him cheap like he’s some old fraud.’
‘Well, he is!’ yelled Jack. ‘A fraud, a thief and a cold-blooded killer. He can’t even look at me he’s so ashamed!’
‘Silence!’ Jago’s hand shot out and though Jack was several feet away, he felt an immense pressure on his chest. A force like an electric shock hurled him back onto the sofa, where he lay gasping for breath.
‘Now then.’ Jago spoke through gritted teeth. ‘That’s a warning. Don’t make me angry, Jack. Because I do indeed know people – brainiacs who can hack any system, write any code and plant the smartest logic bomb to go off whenever I goddam please.’ He put his fists together, then threw them apart explosively. ‘That’s right. They have their orders. And if you get in my way, it’ll be on your head, not mine. A few keystrokes is all it takes to activate a neatly hidden program that won’t just take out your ship, but every GPS device and lighthouse on its route. Understand? Pi, it’s time to leave.’
‘But – what we gonna do with him?’
‘Nothing. Without the mirror he’s powerless.’
Pi looked bitterly disappointed. He eyed the telephone. ‘We can’t just leave him! He might call someone.’
‘Then cut the line!’
‘What? And raise the alarm?’
‘You have a point.’ Jago scowled at Jack. ‘We just need a couple of hours to get clear.’
‘I know!’ Pi leapt eagerly behind the sofa. He re-emerged with the stun gun he’d used on Lonsdale. ‘How ’bout this?’
‘Not necessary. I have a better idea.’
Jago reached behind Pi’s ear and with a flourish of the wrist, produced a small metal object. Jack felt his heart sink. In Jago’s cupped hand lay the whistle he’d used to summon Alpha against Blunt and his gang.
‘We’ll see who he answers to.’ With a smile, Jago put the whistle to his lips. The door of the lighthouse banged on its hinges and a low growl came from outside. ‘Enter,’ he said.
A silence followed. Then, very slowly, a muddy and bedraggled Alpha appeared in the doorway, his head bowed warily between his shoulders. When he saw Jago, his coat twitched like it was infested with fleas and he moved swiftly to heel at his feet.
Jack edged back on the sofa. Alpha’s ears immediately flattened and his nose corrugated in a snarl.
‘I’d sit very still if I were you,’ said Jago. ‘You don’t want to make him nervous. Alpha will never defy me, remember that. He was created by my ancestor to defend the Magus line. It’s his duty. If he fails, his magic dies. You don’t want to end your days a common wolf, do you?’
Alpha tucked his tail between his hind legs.
‘There, you see?’ Jago pulled the trench coat about him. ‘Come, Pi. Alpha will stand guard till we’re out of reach. Goodbye, Jack. Our paths won’t cross again.’
Jago’s heavy boots thumped away down the stone steps but Pi made no attempt to follow. A sneer formed on his face. ‘You ent got a clue, have you?’ he said, waving the gun at Jack. ‘Even now you dunno what you’ve lost.’
‘Archimedes’ mirror. I hope it fries him,’ said Jack stonily.
Pi pointed the gun at him and pretended to fire it. ‘Ent just a weapon. You were right. He only told you half the story.’
Jack glowered at him.
‘Oh come on, it’s staring you in the face. For crying out loud, your parents were there!’
‘Leave them out of it.’
Pi threw back his head and laughed. ‘Numbskull. It’s part of the ol’ Pharos, the centrepiece of the great light. They found it in the ruins – and lost their lives for it.’
‘You’re lying!’
‘Now why would I do that?’
‘B
ecause you’re a two-faced scumbag like him.’
Pi moved swiftly around the back of the sofa. ‘And you can’t face the truth,’ he whispered. The cold barrel of the gun pressed into Jack’s neck. ‘At the entrance there was a statue, right? Lost her head, you might say, in the earthquake.’
‘I know, moron. They found it … Isis.’
‘Shhhh.’ The gun dug harder into him. ‘Hundreds of years underwater and that head didn’t budge. Then along they come and boom! Down she crashes. Next thing we know some fisherman sees a blue light in the water. Bingo!’
‘You’re making it up.’
‘Nope. Ask Alpha. The instant the mirror was free, he knew. Ironic, eh? Isis being the goddess of love ’n that. Ah, don’t look so sad. I’m sure you were in their thoughts.’
Jack gazed numbly at Alpha whose eyes were locked on to his. Pi couldn’t have dealt a crueller blow. He’d just lost the most tangible thing that connected him to his parents and their dreams. He pictured Charlie holding the library book in the garden, marvelling at the hole burnt in its pages. She’d guessed everything and he’d just ignored her. He wanted to scream at himself. But he couldn’t crumble, not in front of Pi.
Flecks of fiery orange danced in Alpha’s amber irises, reminding Jack of the rainbow they’d made. ‘I’m glad you told me,’ he said to Pi. ‘My parents did something special. I’m proud of them.’
‘Shame you let ’em down, then.’
‘I didn’t.’
‘Come again? You’ve just lost the mirror – the mirror they wanted you to have!’
Alpha’s eyes grew brighter and Jack felt his courage grow. At last he understood. Throwing Indigo into the sea had acted like a signal. The mirror of Pharos had travelled halfway round the world, across oceans and through time to the very moment when he’d not only needed it, but had learned enough to use it. It occurred to him that if he had been in his parents’ thoughts, as Pi suggested, that would have been precisely their wish.
He kept looking at the wolf. ‘It came to me for a reason,’ he said quietly. ‘This isn’t over.’
There was a long silence.
Jack couldn’t see Pi’s face, but he knew very well it wasn’t the reaction he’d wanted. He heard the click of a safety catch. Alpha’s gaze remained steady and Jack knew the wolf was on his side. He felt a sharp pain, then nothing at all.
Chapter 33
Charlie woke with a shudder and sat bolt upright. The fish tank burbled quietly on the chest of drawers next to her, emitting a dim glow into the darkness of her bedroom. Nothing stirred except her pet fish, Goldie, who swam goggle-eyed to and fro.
She gathered the blankets under her chin and glanced around the room. Despite the silence, she had the oddest feeling. She could have sworn a voice had just spoken her name.
At the foot of her bed, a shadow shaped like a mountain fell over the carpet and rose up the wall opposite. Charlie bit her lip. She could see the muddy hem of what looked like a long robe. Someone – or something – was sitting in the wicker chair in front of her dressing table.
‘I shouldn’t be here at all,’ said a thin, quavering voice. ‘It’s against the rules. I’ll probably lose my job.’
‘Who … who’s there?’ Charlie clutched the blankets even tighter.
‘Interference is forbidden, but, but … how can I turn a blind eye? A Seer is meant to see!’
Charlie switched on the bedside light. An old woman with a face wrinkled as a walnut blinked at her. She was small and thin, no bigger than Charlie herself. It was only her coat, a voluminous purple thing, which had made her shadow so alarming.
The light seemed to bring the woman to her senses. ‘This visit is hush-hush. No one must know,’ she said, rubbing her forehead anxiously.
Charlie noticed a gash over one of her eyes. She’s had an accident, that’s it. She’s got amnesia and somehow lost her way, she thought.
‘My memory is in perfect working order, thank you very much,’ said the woman, sharply. ‘Why, I can remember the last millennium as if it was yesterday!’
She’s mad, thought Charlie. There’s a mad woman in my bedroom!
‘Depends on what you mean by “mad”. I am angry, yes. Very angry. But not crazy. I never felt saner in my whole life!’
She knows what I’m thinking! thought Charlie. You’re reading my mind, aren’t you?
‘Well, of course I am! That’s what Seers do. Look dear, we haven’t got time for all this. Jack’s in trouble.’
‘Jack! What’s the matter?’ Charlie threw off the covers and scrambled down the bed. ‘Where is he?’
The woman placed the tip of her index finger in the centre of her own forehead, near the wound. ‘I kept track of him, here, for as long as I could. But then … he was gone, just like that.’
Charlie stared at her. ‘Who are you?’ she asked again. Close up, the woman looked like a tramp. Several dreadlocks hung in her matted grey hair and her brightly painted fingernails were cracked and dirty.
‘I am Sybil Ayres, custodian of Fenstreet Time Junction,’ said the woman. ‘At least I am for the moment, if I don’t get the sack. Thanks to this business I’ve been forced to close the place down. No one can go anywhere and now they’re all up in arms, blaming me!’
‘Time junction? What’s that?’ said Charlie.
‘Everyone has to go through a junction, whichever direction they travel, past or future. That’s how it works. It’s a bit like a railway station. Only it’s not.’
‘I see.’ There’s a woman in my room who runs a station for time travellers. This is brilliant! Charlie gave herself a pinch to make sure she wasn’t dreaming. ‘And why did you close it down?’
‘I had no choice!’ Sybil’s voice grew hysterical. ‘That fiend, he has to be stopped! I keep telling them, “We all want to go where we please; it’s important to follow our dreams”, BUT we can’t let him get away!’
‘Ssshhh,’ said Charlie. ‘You’ll wake Mum. Who’s “him”?’
‘Jago Flyn,’ hissed Sybil.
‘No!’ I never liked him.
‘He’s not supposed to use any junction. But he breaks rules; he doesn’t care. Only yesterday he slipped past me, heaven knows how! It’s to do with Jack. He’s got some kind of magical device that Flyn wants.’
The disc! thought Charlie.
‘What disc?’ said Sybil.
‘It came in a package, in Jack’s own handwriting. It made his computer work and Nan’s cooker and the street lights! It burned the library book … all except the last chapter. Here, look!’ Charlie bounced off the bed and rummaged under a pile of dirty clothes. ‘The Seven Wonders of the World. It’s a bit of a mess, I’m afraid.’
‘Good lord!’ Sybil poked a bony finger through the conical hole in the book and turned to the last chapter. She let out a gasp and sat back down in the chair. ‘This explains everything … It’s been found. The Pharos mirror!’
‘I knew it! His parents died in the ruins. I thought it was too much of a coincidence.’
Sybil shook her head. ‘No such thing as coincidence. The time must be right. The light was waiting to be found, waiting for a new Magus.’
‘Jack’s a Magus?’ exclaimed Charlie. She wasn’t entirely sure what the title meant, but it sounded impressive.
‘Yes. A fledgling, of course. But it’s in his blood. Oh dear, this is worse than I thought.’
‘Why?’
‘He’s carrying part of a time junction. The Pharos lighthouse used to be like Fenstreet.’
‘No way! This is great!’
‘Not, not, not! If Flyn gets his hands on the mirror, he’ll have his own portal.’ Sybil’s shoulders began to shake. ‘He must have drawn on the mirror’s power to get past me. He’s charming, a manipulator. He’s gained Jack’s trust!’
‘It wasn’t your fault.’
&nb
sp; ‘It was. I should have seen him coming!’
Charlie pressed a fistful of tissues into Sybil’s hand, and as the old woman dabbed her tears, she couldn’t help noticing how remarkable her eyes were. They looked bright as crystals, glamorous even.
‘I was quite a catch once,’ said Sybil, batting her wet lashes. ‘I loved him … but he betrayed me too!’ she wailed.
‘What! You loved Jago Flyn. Ughh!’
‘Nooo! Not him exactly. Oh, it’s hard to explain. He was different then,’ sobbed Sybil. ‘His name was Seth – a fine man, a Magus in his own right. It’s the lives he’s led since then that are beyond redemption. Flyn is his worst one yet.’
Charlie’s mouth fell open. ‘Hang on. How old are you?’
‘I don’t see what my age has got to do with it.’
‘How old?’
‘Well,’ Sybil patted her untidy hair. ‘Eons, if you must know.’
‘What’s an eon?’
‘A long time, an eternity … more than two thousand years. There, satisfied?’
‘Whoa!’ Charlie sat back down on the bed with a thump. ‘And Flyn, I mean Seth – whoever – he’s really old too, right?’
‘As the hills,’ sniffed Sybil. ‘And meaner than a bucketful of pythons. The punishment only made him worse.’
‘What punishment?’
‘They wiped his memory of his magic. Most of it anyhow,’ said Sybil. ‘He could choose to die, of course, but he doesn’t. When one existence ends, he moves on to another.’
‘What did he do?’ asked Charlie, anxiously.
‘Killed a man, a genius.’ Sybil hung her head. ‘The maker of the mirror. Archimedes.’
‘That’s impossible.’ Charlie looked stunned. ‘A soldier killed him when his city was invaded. It says so in this book.’
‘That’s right. He was drawing circles in the sand, working out some great mathematical puzzle. He wouldn’t budge, even when the soldier told him to.’
‘So what’s Seth got to do with it?’
‘He was there. He used his magic in the most despicable way. We read thoughts – we’re not supposed to plant them. But that’s what he did. He channelled every ounce of his rage into that hothead to make him cut the old man down.’