Alex Verus 5: Hidden

by Benedict Jacka

  Inside, the reserve was much bigger than it looked from the street, spreading out to either side and forming a long strip of land behind the houses that hid it. A railway cutting ran through the centre, forming a fenced-off valley with forested slopes. I got in over the fence, did a quick scout, then sat at a wooden bench and waited.

  Time passed. The sun set and the sky faded from blue to indigo to black, lit from below by the orange glow of the London skyline. I’ve always been drawn to places like this, hidden away behind streets and buildings—I like nature, but I’m an urban person at heart and it’s deep in the city where I feel most comfortable. The nature reserve was very nearly pitch-dark, the streetlights blocked off by trees and houses, and the wind rustled in the leaves in a steady rise and fall. From time to time a train would pass along the railway line, rattle and bang and roar, leaving an eerie quiet in its wake. As I sat still and silent, rustles of movement began to filter through the undergrowth, the reserve’s nocturnal inhabitants growing accustomed to my presence. I saw the quick scuttling movements of rodents, and a hedgehog bustled past only a few feet away. The wind was beginning to blow away the clouds, and stars gleamed down from patches of clear sky.

  It was nearly ten o’clock when I heard the sound of someone moving from the direction of the entrance to the reserve, footsteps on grass coming downhill towards me. I could tell the exact moment that I came within Anne’s lifesight, because she stopped. I saw the possibilities branch—would she keep coming, or would she back off?—but just as I knew that she’d seen me, she knew that I’d seen her. The future in which she left winked out, she kept coming, and a moment later I saw a slim shadow against the trees. “Hey,” I said.

  “I thought you were going,” Anne said. I couldn’t see her face in the darkness.

  “I didn’t say where.”

  I heard Anne sigh. “I’m going to have to phrase what I say more carefully, aren’t I?” She paused. “How did you know I’d come here?”

  I shrugged. “This place suits you.”

  Anne had come to a halt beside an old clay oven. I’d expected her to keep her distance but she started forward, slipping around the edge of the woodpile before sitting on the bench opposite me, curling her feet up to sit cross-legged. We sat for a little while in silence.

  “It’s nice here,” I said eventually. I meant it. Despite the railway line and the streets all around, the reserve felt peaceful.

  “It’s not mine.”

  “You come here often, don’t you?”

  “When I can,” Anne said. From across the bench I could just make out her features, dim in the starlight.

  There was a pause. “So,” I said. “How’s the clinic going?”

  “It’s okay.” Anne sounded tired.

  “Are you still working at that supermarket?”

  “Yes.” Anne looked up at me. “I don’t think you came to ask about my job.”

  “I heard you left the apprentice program.”

  “Is that what they’re saying?”

  “Not exactly.” I paused, but Anne didn’t fill in the gap. Oh well, tiptoeing around wasn’t working anyway. “They’re saying that you got expelled because you attacked Natasha.”

  Anne was silent.

  “Is it true?” I asked.

  “Does it matter?”

  “Yes, it matters. Don’t you at least want to give me your side of the story?”

  Anne sounded weary. “Why bother?”

  I wasn’t sure what to say to that. “Did Natasha attack you? Or set you up, or something?”

  “No,” Anne said with a sigh. “She just . . . acted like Natasha.”

  “So . . . what did you do?”

  “Do you really want to know?” Anne looked up at me, meeting my gaze in the darkness. “I triggered all her pain receptors and looped them so that they’d keep firing for a couple of hours.”

  I stared. I couldn’t picture Anne doing something like that. Okay, come to think of it I had seen her do something exactly like that—worse, in fact—but . . .

  “It doesn’t do any permanent damage,” Anne said when I didn’t answer. She sounded defensive.

  “What did she do?”

  “Nothing,” Anne said in frustration. “Nothing different. She said something about what I must have done to stay in the program. It wasn’t the worst thing she’s said, it’s probably not even in the top ten, and Natasha isn’t even the worst of them. There wasn’t anything special about it. It was just . . . one last straw. That was all.”

  “What were all the other straws?” I said quietly.

  Anne let out a long breath. “Do you know how long I’ve been in the program?”

  “No.” The first time I’d met Anne had been at Luna’s apprenticeship ceremony, almost two years ago. “Two years?”

  “Three and a bit.” Anne looked at me. “Do you know how many days I went to classes and someone didn’t remind me that the Light mages didn’t want me there?”

  I shook my head.

  “None of them,” Anne said. “They don’t like me. Because I used to be with Sagash. Because I was staying with Jagadev. Because I’m a life mage. Because I was arrested for murder and some of them think I should have been found guilty. If it’s not one reason it’s another, and I’m tired of it. You know the first thing I felt when I found out that I was expelled? It was a relief. Because I wouldn’t have to keep seeing them every day. Back when I joined the apprentice program I thought I was going to be part of the Light mages, that I’d get accepted someday. Then when I had to deal with girls like Tash and Christine I thought they’d get over it, it wouldn’t last, but . . . it never stops. I’m so sick of the way things work in the classes, with the Light mages. I’m tired of the other apprentices whispering behind my back, of how whenever we do pair work the teachers take my partner aside where they think I can’t hear and ask if they’re okay with being paired with me. I’m tired of being shut out, the looks, the jokes. I’m just tired.” Anne fell silent.

  “That’s been going on all this time?” I said quietly. I’d known that Anne and Variam weren’t popular, but I’d never known it was this bad.

  “I didn’t want to talk about it,” Anne said wearily. “And it’s not that bad, not any one day. It just . . . it adds up. Most of the Light mages, the teachers, they’re not horrible. But I’m not one of them. And they never let you forget it.”

  I was silent for a moment. “I know what you mean.”

  Anne wasn’t telling me anything I hadn’t found out myself. The Light mages of the Council are close, an extended family—even when they fight amongst themselves they still basically understand one another. To them, Dark mages are the other, their ancient enemy, and if you’re associated with a Dark mage then you’re always on the outside, never fully trusted. It’s part of the reason I’ve always felt a kinship with Anne and Vari—I know what it’s like to be shut out. “Do you need any help?”

  “I don’t want to go back to the apprentice program.”

  “You don’t have to.” I chose my words carefully; I was getting onto dangerous ground now. “You could move back in at my shop.”

  Anne was silent. “I know you’re settled here,” I said, “but it’s not the safest place long-term. Your flat doesn’t have any wards, and with what happened . . . well, people are going to be sniffing around.”

  Anne didn’t look at me. “Did someone tell you to ask me that?” she said at last.

  I didn’t want to bring up Luna’s name. “Ah . . .”

  “It was Luna, wasn’t it? Was this whole thing her idea?” Anne shook her head. “I asked her not to do this.”

  Anne can be scarily good at reading people. “She’s worried about you.”

  “I’m fine.”

  “You don’t look fine.”

  “I’m not a wilting flower.” There was an edge in
Anne’s voice. “I can take care of myself.”

  “That’s what everyone thinks until they find out they can’t.”

  Anne turned to look at me. “Is that what you’re here for? To tell me that?”

  “I’m telling you that you’re painting a bull’s-eye on your back,” I said. “You and Vari aren’t exactly short of enemies. What do you think they’ll do if they find out that you’re not under anyone’s protection?”

  “When I was living with you last summer, I had a bomb go off over my head,” Anne said. “You aren’t exactly the safest person to be around either.”

  “You know what I mean!”

  “No, I don’t. What do you want?”

  “I’m trying to stop you from doing”—something really stupid—“something that might get you killed. Okay, you don’t want to stay in the apprentice program. But if you’re not doing that, then you’re going to have to do something else. Can we at least sit down and go through the options?”

  Anne looked back at me for a few seconds before answering. “No.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because I’m tired of spending my life being told what to do,” Anne said. “Sagash, Jagadev, the Light teachers. You.”

  “Okay, what?” I said. I was starting to get angry now. “All the time you and Vari were staying with me, I barely asked anything from either of you.”

  “No,” Anne said. “You killed five adepts instead.”

  What felt like cold water spread through me, and my anger flickered and died. “I know you didn’t do it yourself,” Anne said. “But you were the one who set it up.” She looked at me. “I thought I could trust you.”

  “Then what do you think I should have done?”

  “I don’t know,” Anne said simply. “All I know is that the longer I spend with mages, the more I get shaped into what they want me to be. And I don’t want to become the kind of person who could do what you did.”

  I didn’t meet Anne’s eyes. “Sometimes there aren’t any good choices,” I said at last, my voice quiet in the darkness. “Some things you do because everything else is worse.”

  “And then it’s easier the next time,” Anne said. There was something distant in her voice and I looked up sharply, but in the darkness I couldn’t make out her features. It lasted only a second, then she looked aside and her voice was back to normal. “Maybe there’s nothing better. But at least you can make up for it afterwards.”

  “And is that what this is? Your clinic?”

  “Maybe,” Anne said. “Yes. If you spend your time using your magic to help people, then maybe if you do it long enough it’ll make you into a better person. Won’t it?”

  “I . . . guess.” Something about the way Anne was saying that made me uneasy. I felt as though something was missing. “I guess you could make a living out of it if you wanted to.”

  “The way those other life mages do? Sell healing to rich people?” Anne shook her head. “I just want to be left alone.”

  “And does that include me?”

  Anne didn’t answer.

  “Do you want me to go away?” I asked. “Is that it?”

  Anne was quiet for a moment. “Yes,” she said at last.

  Silence fell. I waited a long time, but Anne didn’t speak again. “Fine,” I said, and rose. I began to walk past Anne up the slope, then paused and turned. “But let me tell you something I’ve learnt the hard way. You think you can take care of yourself? Well, you’re probably right. But if you have enough enemies then it doesn’t matter how good you are at taking care of yourself. One apprentice on their own isn’t a hero, they’re a target. If you can beat another mage, then someone who wants to hurt you won’t send one mage, they’ll send three. If you can beat three, they’ll send ten. Maybe if you follow other mages, then you do have to pay a price for it, but they’re not just doing it for themselves. The only kind of safety that lasts involves other people.”

  Anne didn’t meet my eyes, and this time I didn’t have anything more to say. I walked away.

  | | | | | | | | |

  I rode the Overground back north, the train rolling through the darkness. Other people crowded the seats, the couples talking and the singles bent over their phones, but I didn’t pay them any attention. When I reached Camden Road I stayed on the train, getting off at Hampstead Heath station instead. The Heath was empty and black and I walked into the darkness of the park, hearing the sounds of voices fade away behind me until I was alone in the night.

  Hampstead Heath is the home of a magical creature named Arachne. She’s probably the closest friend and ally that I have, and I often come out here when I’m worried or unhappy about something. Arachne’s very old and very wise, and talking to her usually helps me decide what to do.

  But while Arachne might be my friend, she doesn’t just sit in her lair all day waiting for me to drop by. From time to time she disappears, often for several days in a row, and as I looked ahead I saw that this was one of those times. I’ve never figured out where Arachne goes on these trips. Given her appearance, I’m pretty sure it’s not a case of going out for a walk. I suspect it’s got something to do with the tunnels under her lair and what’s in them, but she’s never brought up the subject and I haven’t asked.

  The dark and empty Heath was well suited to path-walking, and it didn’t take me long to figure out that Arachne wasn’t home. I should have checked in advance, but between Talisid, Anne, and my father, I’d had a distracting sort of day. I kept going anyway—Arachne might not be at her home, but it’s deserted enough to work pretty well as a meeting place, and looking ahead I saw that while Arachne might not be available, someone else was.

  I reached the ravine with the oak tree that hid the entrance to Arachne’s lair, then took out my phone. The touch screen was bright in the darkness, and I tapped a name and put the phone to my ear. “Hey,” I said into the receiver when I got an answer. “You up for a chat? I wanted to talk something over . . . Not that long . . . At Arachne’s . . . Yeah . . . Okay. See you in a bit.” I hung up, leant against the tree, and waited.

  For five minutes nothing happened. Then in the air in front of me an orange-red flame kindled and grew, lighting the ravine and the grass in a fiery glow. The light spread, forming a vertical oval six feet high, before its centre darkened to form a window into somewhere far away. I had a brief glimpse of a room, clothes scattered across the floor, then someone was stepping through in front of me. As soon as both his feet were on the ground, the gateway winked shut behind him. An orb of firelight hovered at his side, casting his dark skin in a reddish glow.

  “Hey, Vari,” I said with a smile. “Good to see you.”

  Variam is small and wiry, quick to move and to speak. He used to go to the same school as Anne, and they both got caught up in some kind of nasty magic-related business involving one of their teachers that I don’t know the details of. Then Anne got kidnapped by Sagash, Variam went to rescue Anne, and the two of them stuck together from that point on, for self-protection as much as anything else. Despite their shared history, they’re less close than you’d think; they might have spent a lot of their lives together, but the more I’ve gotten to know Anne and Variam, the more I’ve come to realise just how different they are.

  The major break came last year. At the same time that Anne left to live on her own, Vari got apprenticed to a Council Keeper. He took to it pretty well, after the initial rough patches, but the two of them don’t do everything together the way they once did. “So what’s so important?” Variam asked. “I’ve got an op tomorrow morning.”

  “It’s about Anne.”

  Variam made a face.

  | | | | | | | | |

  “This is about her getting kicked from the program, isn’t it?” Variam said.

  We were in a café near the Heath, a little off Highgate Road, seated on plastic chairs at a two-person table where
wisps of steam rose from two untouched cups of tea. A waitress was half asleep at the counter, and weak lights struggled against the darkness outside. “I found out from Luna,” I said. “I went by Anne’s flat this evening.”

  “And it didn’t go so well, right?”

  “I’m worried about her,” I said. “You guys have got almost as many enemies as I do. Right now you’re protected, she’s not. Any chance she’d listen to you?”

  “Tried it,” Variam said with a grimace. “Didn’t work.”

  “When?”

  “Last month after the Legion first picks. There was a Council sponsorship going, so I tried to get her to apply. She said no.”

  I tilted my head. Variam didn’t look happy, and I had the feeling there was more to the story. “That was it?”

  “We had a bit of a fight,” Variam said reluctantly. “Haven’t talked since.”

  “Hard to imagine you two having a fight.”

  Variam snorted. “You never saw us at Jagadev’s.”

  “I always thought Anne followed your advice.”

  “When she wants to,” Variam said. “When she doesn’t it’s like talking to a bloody rock. She doesn’t even argue, she just sits there and says no.”

  Which come to think of it had been how most of my disagreements with her had gone. I drummed my fingers on the table. “Are there any Light types she’d trust? I thought she got on with some of the apprentices.”

  “Only the younger ones, and that was before that whole murder charge thing at Fountain Reach.”

  “How can they take that seriously?” I was getting frustrated with this—it should be such a simple problem. “They have to know Anne wouldn’t do something like that.”

  Variam raised his eyebrows. “Uh, no they don’t.”

  “Oh, come on. Why do the Lights and independents have such a problem with Anne, anyway?”

  “You mean apart from the obvious?”