Menelaus swept across the courtyard’s mosaicked floor, inhaling the delicate scent of the arch-climbing roses as he strode past the large fountain and through the doors of Guardians’ Wing. He kept the folder hidden in his tweed jacket, a natural precaution he didn’t question, and took the stairs to Julian’s office on the third floor, one that looked across the courtyard.
‘Ah, dear boy,’ said Julian at once, gesturing with his cane for Menelaus to shut the door. Menelaus obliged, joining his mentor and adoptive father at the low table, while trying to balance himself on the little cushion, the only protection against the threadbare rug and floorboards. The wallpaper had been chosen to imitate the folding doors found in a Chinese sanctuary, and instead of a desk, Julian had an elaborate filing system based around a Qing dynasty rosewood chair inlaid with pearl, protected from view by a screen. Even to him, Julian’s office was a little quirky.
‘Ah, dear Father, any of your famous chá brewing?’
Julian smiled and touched the hot teapot sitting on the table between them. He flinched as if burnt but Menelaus was used to his little jokes. ‘I think so. Fetch us some cups and save my creaky legs.’
‘You’re not that old.’ Still, he did as asked, retrieving the china from a small cupboard in the corner next to the kettle.
They drank chá and made idle conversation while Menelaus worked up the courage to present Julian with Jaun’s recordings. He placed his cup down and cleared his throat but Julian got there first. ‘Get it over with. Whatever you’re hiding in your jacket, put it on the table.’
‘Literally or figuratively?’ Menelaus asked.
‘Either. Both. Just some point before sunset.’
Menelaus extracted the folder and the accompanying notecard. ‘It’s Jaun’s writing. I found it in the archives. I thought you’d better see it.’
Julian’s usual casual mirth dissipated like steam. ‘That is certainly hers. My dear mother.’
‘What does it say?’
‘It says the boy is a deity of the earth, its greatest defence and also its greatest threat. The boy and the fate of the Clemensens is one and the same but she hasn’t been able to discover the nature of this link.’ Julian paused. ‘She also says that she intends to discuss some of her findings with the Consul.’
‘The Consul?’
‘Yes, yes,’ he said irritably, ‘the head of the Praetoriani and second in command at the Praefecti.’
‘I know, I meant why did she feel the need to talk about Raphael to the Consul? Why does she care about what he’s up to? She’s Arch Archivist.’
Julian snapped. ‘She was the Arch Archivist! She cared, past tense. Your grandmother always had her reasons.’
What’s got into him? ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you. It’s just, that source I mentioned, the one who told me about Malachi turning Lorenzo into a vampire, it was Raphael. It’s not the only time I’ve met him.’
‘Tell me everything.’
Julian listened intently as the story unfolded, how Raphael had appeared to him that night of Isobel’s death, a figure fluttering through the trees like a ghostly butterfly. The boy had comforted Menelaus somehow, with light touches that had cost the boy much – even in his grief – Menelaus had recognised that.
‘He was an angel in my darkest hour. And then he was gone. Ten years later he reappears at the university while I’m teaching students. Now Theo is in trouble. It can’t be a coincidence, can it, that when he turns up, something dramatic happens?’ Menelaus grabbed the folder and flicked through to the relevant page. ‘Look, one of the last sightings of him was in 1985 when Espen Clemensen turned twenty-one, followed by fluke weather culminating in an avalanche. Does that remind you of anything? I checked the records. Ever since Theo’s birthday, the weather around Hellingstead has gone haywire, yet it’s isolated to our region of Somerset. The question is, are they causing the unusual weather patterns, or is Raphael?’
Menelaus gulped, swallowing air. It was coming out so fast, the pieces linking together in a chain that came out in sentences. ‘Everything is connected. And it matters, just like Jaun thought it did.’
The sound of pouring tea calmed his thoughts. ‘Menelaus.’
‘Yes?’ He drank the hot tea, suddenly tired.
‘I’m going to tell you something you must never repeat to anyone.’
The cushion underneath his backside seemed bumpier than ever. ‘I swear it. What is it?’
‘Jaun was one of the only women to have met Akhen, our Imperi Ducis. And she is one of the only people who understood how dangerous the head of the Praefecti is. She made the mistake of giving him information he sought for. He allowed her one favour in return: that I be allowed to live.’
‘What are you saying? That Akhen killed Nainai?’
‘Dear boy, Jaun drowned in the Nile,’ said Julian. He looked Menelaus in the eye and held his gaze. ‘The fact it happened so close to Akhen’s winter residence is a complete coincidence.’
There were no words. He slid his hand over the table and squeezed Julian’s veiny forearm. ‘Jesus Christ. Why didn’t you tell me before?’
‘Don’t trouble yourself with it. The best hunts require patience and cunning. But you bringing me this…this…find today only confirms other suspicions.’
‘Like what?’
‘That girl of yours, Ava. Is she still hunting for that family heirloom?’
Menelaus debated what information he was entitled to pass on. ‘She’s not my girl. She’s Theo’s. But yes, she wants my help finding it. Why?’
‘I believe her quest points in the same direction as my own. Dear boy, if she succeeds in finding this “necklace”, this “amulet”, you must bring it to me at once.’
‘I can’t steal it from her, Julian.’
‘You will if you ever cared for your nainai. Find it and bring it to me. And don’t tell anyone about it.’
After Theo had confronted him at sword-point, Menelaus had started visiting the martial arts expert in the gym for extra sessions and had been taking evening classes in the armoury. Mortal peril is a good excuse as any for playing with weaponry, and the thrill spread through his limbs whenever he picked up a sword, or a spear. In another age, he often thought, he’d have taken up jousting on horseback. At least those ancient skills were still relevant; magic and modern technology often cancelled each other out.
He spent the remainder of the day testing out longswords and fighting sticks, refining the techniques he’d learned long ago during his basic training. He’d taken quite a beating from the Master at Arms, which was embarrassing, considering the bloke was about half his size both in height and width. But he hadn’t done as badly as some of the other students. Aesthetics or efficiency? It was an easy choice for someone who’d pissed off the Clemensens, and he couldn’t give a crap about fancy poses and insults. Besides, he had a lot of confused energy to disperse after Julian’s cryptic revelations, and pain helped him process.
Sunset came and went and after a quick shower, he returned to Guardians’ Wing and found his own office. It was scattered with the usual paraphernalia associated with his secret profession, including his rather dusty combat gear and chainmail vest – where had that been on the night of his run-in with Theo? – and of course, the stacks of stationary stamped with PVJD. Oh, and the bust of Venus given to him on some birthday or other as a hint to get a girlfriend.
He immediately noticed the flashing light on his work phone and dialled his voicemail. ‘Menelaus? Oh, great, voicemail. Turns out this book of ours is a little…contentious. After you left I got a call from the Praefecti’s Head Office in Bristol. A chauffeur is even going to come and pick me up for an interview, can you believe it? They sounded really excited about well, my research. The book’s delicate so they want to hand it over in person and send us back via special transport. I’ll keep you updated. Maybe we can both get something we want from this book. Oh, and it’s all “hush hush” so keep this between us. Au Revoir.’
>
Menelaus stared at the receiver until he finally collapsed into the chair behind him. Guillaume hadn’t sounded worried, but he wasn’t so convinced. After learning what had happened to Jaun, the vein of suspicion in his mind had ruptured into a rapid of blood. I must warn him, he thought, glancing at the wall clock. It’s not too late; I can go to his house.
He knew where Guillaume lived, at least; he’d been to the wedding reception they’d held at home. He considered calling but didn’t want to risk being overheard. He listened to the message once more, then deleted it.
The tree-lined avenue, leading out of the Praetoriani, seemed longer than ever. Because it was late, Menelaus had to wait for security to come and open the main gate. After that, he made good progress, breaking a few back-road speed limits as he drove north, until he arrived at a cul-de-sac near Hellingstead Hospital, only to spent a full five minutes sitting in his car, trying to figure out what the hell he should say.
The walk to Guillaume’s front door took a further five minutes. One more minute he stood on the porch before finally ringing the bell. It was his wife, Sarah, who answered, her sleek hair cut in the short Parisian style. ‘Yes? Oh, it’s you, Menelaus. It’s been a while.’
‘Yes it has. Sorry to disturb you this late but I was just passing. I need to ask Guillaume a quick question, that’s all.’
Sarah swayed from side to side as if still rocking one of her babies. ‘I’m afraid you’ve missed him. Last minute work trip, something about a research opportunity.’
Dread was like a spider climbing up the back of his neck. ‘Oh, when did he leave?’
‘Two hours ago. He should be back in a few days.’ She looked uncertain. ‘Do you want to come in for a drink?’
‘Thank you but I’m sure you’re tired. I better head home myself.’
‘Okay. I’ll let Guillaume know you stopped by.’
‘Don’t bother, Sarah, it was really nothing. I’ll talk to him when he gets back.’
On the walk to the car, Menelaus realised, when he gets back felt like a lie.
And it was, in a way.
6
Secret Liaisons
Duplicity. The word sounded right, at any rate. Ava checked her phone. Missed calls and voicemail from Theo again. Five days of excuses made to Theo, while she processed everything. Her finger refused to press the green button when he rang, and yet she had answered Menelaus.
Their reunion had been going so well until Theo relented to rage and pursued Menelaus, until Lorenzo had shot her with an arrow. An Elvish arrow. The idea of Nine Realms gave her a headache, let alone travelling between Midgard and Alfheim (translation: Earth and Fairyland).
And then he joined the coven.
And ‘married’ Penny. It didn’t matter what fancy terms Theo used to explain it away, in Ava’s mind, fusing two bodies and pledging alliance to a higher power was the biggest kind of deal. Right now, she couldn’t deal with that.
Anyway, she had a mission. She chucked her phone across the pink duvet and opened her diary. If Theo is too naïve to see how untrustworthy Penny is, I’ll have to protect him myself. I’ve got to find the ‘item’ as Isobel instructed. She bit the end of her pen. I’m meeting M about the book. Didn’t expect him to find it so quickly. Maybe the ‘item’ won’t be so hard to trace. Ava read it back. When had she started writing in code?
Life is getting weird, even for me.
She hid the diary back under the floorboard – another recent precaution – and crept downstairs, trying not to alert Mum. Her Westie, Tina, dashed for her lead as soon as she spotted her. ‘Sorry, no walkies now,’ Ava whispered, swiping her keys and slipping out of the cottage’s blue front door.
She ventured towards Oakley Park. The world seemed so different to her in a breath of time. An old pathway ran through the woodland in the park, divided into a halfhearted crossroad by the ancient oak tree where Malachi had turned Lorenzo into a vampire. As Ava approached it, she stopped, in awe of the oak’s deep-green canopy, unable to fathom that Grace’s love interest had met his mortal end here. Without thinking, she reached out and laid her palm against the twisting trunk. ‘I wonder what stories you could tell me,’ she whispered. A young couple passed her, walking a spaniel. Ava smiled politely and retracted her hand from the tree.
It snapped right back. The pores in her arms rose, becoming suckers as they wrapped around the tree-trunk. Sweat broke out on her forehead as it banged against the bark. I never should’ve touched it, she thought. The last thought that belonged to her.
Seeress? Where is the boy?
A face, smooth and angelic, as if carved from Grecian marble, broke through the dark curtain in her mind. Even in the moonlight, those amethyst eyes were powerfully bright. R-R-Raphael he was with us he saw a terrible terrible thing where is he now has he left us? She saw the boy from all angles, through a thousand insect eyes, feeling his milky skin through a bird’s feathers – wings beating against a cloud. Raphael seemed to glow, blue waves pulsing around him, contorting the air… sings with us his breath sings with us we miss his song. Then the fear. It’s coming the cursed thing walking death servant of the night. We heard the screaming and the boy wept. He left us he left us.
Ava staggered back and fell onto the hard soil around the tree. Her eyes blazed with pain – to see out of one pair seemed pointless somehow, to feel through only four limbs, well, she might as well be groping blindly in a dark cage. What the hell was that? She fought against the aching sense of loss and struggled to her feet. Of course, Theo had told her about Raphael, mainly to warn her, but could it be that he witnessed Lorenzo’s attack? Even if he had, how could a tree communicate like that with her?
Just one more way the world had gotten weirder.
Her feet felt leaden. ‘I’ve got to get to Menelaus,’ she said. Was she talking to herself or the oak? Ava jogged away, keen to put distance between her and the tree. Relief swept over her as she broke out onto a road packed with restaurants, her eyes instantly straying to the little Italian where Menelaus took her on their first – and only – proper date.
She took a sharp left and, leaving it behind, paused at the bus stop a hundred yards down the road. He did look hot that night. Shame he behaved like an arsehole afterwards. Ava checked her phone and swallowed the guilt that rose in her throat. Meeting Theo again – it was a revelation. That dimple in his cheek as he smiled at her, warm and eager as a child – it did things to her spine. She shouldn’t even be thinking about Menelaus, let alone meeting him in secret. But it was the only course of action that didn’t threaten to swallow her in dread.
Despite all Theo’s enthusiasm, Ava was once again swamped by intuition. It told her a plague was on its way – a sickness that ate at souls – brewing in Hellingstead.
She spotted the University bus, as it turned into the road, and held out her hand.
From what Ava had learned about Professor Menelaus Knight, she expected him to be waiting in his office, brooding out of his window overlooking the piazza.
As the lift door opened, she heard a loud thump, then a smash, emanating from down the corridor. She whipped her head around. Had all the other teachers fled campus already?
No time to find out.
Ava barged through Menelaus’s door to find him crouched on his desk, slicing the air with a shard of pottery from the broken plant pot in the corner, at Lorenzo, who was curled up bat-like on the shelves, fangs bared and ready to spring.
‘Ava, get out of here!’
‘What the hell is going on?’
‘Go!’
‘Don’t tell me what to do.’
Lorenzo rubbed his silver necklace, and the air quivered around him. Ava blinked. Where did that bow and arrow come from? She watched in horror as he aimed it at Menelaus, who dived behind his desk.
‘Stop it!’ she screamed. ‘I’ll keep shouting until the whole university shows up. This is ridiculous. I’m not taking another arrow.’
Lorenzo shrugged, ‘Not askin
g you to, me’luv.’ He leapt down from the shelf – bringing the least tenacious books down with him – and circled round the upturned bamboo plant, holding the bow taught. ‘Come out wherever you are, Professor.’
Should she try and stop him? Ava edged forward but his eyes locked her in place. ‘Don’t,’ he whispered.
Menelaus was suspiciously quiet. She weighed up her options. No point trying to find help; who would she turn to? Only Theo – but he wasn’t exactly simpatico with Menelaus at the moment.
‘You’re hesitating because you don’t really want to kill him,’ she blurted.
‘Let me correct that impression.’ Moments vanished into movement; Lorenzo zipped past her, pulling Menelaus from his hiding place, flinging him up against the wall, arrow aimed at his eye. All the professor’s strength meant nothing against a vampire. ‘Tell me why you want me to spy on Theo. Who’s next on your list? Running his mother off a cliff not enough for you?’
Menelaus held up his hands, dropping the shard of pottery. He wanted to lash out, Ava could tell, but he refrained from scrunching his fingers into fists – just. ‘I get it. You don’t trust me. I don’t blame you, alright? But it was an accident. I want to make up for what I did, make sure nothing can hurt Theo’s defence. Can you tell me you trust Penny and Malachi?’
‘More than you.’
‘Look, I’m not the worst of the Praetoriani. I’m on your side. Take me out and I’ll be replaced by someone who isn’t.’
‘I can get rid of them as easily.’
‘You so sure about that?’
Lorenzo’s grip loosened, a tiny adjustment. ‘Why are you so desperate to be my Guardian anyway?’
‘You were my student, remember? Before you became…a De Laurentis.’
‘I’ll never take that name,’ Lorenzo said. Inexplicably to Ava, he lowered the arrow. ‘I’ll agree to be your ward or whatever you called it. But you’ve got to help me find someone in return.’
Norns of Fate: A New Adult Urban Fantasy Novel (Descendants of Thor Trilogy Book Two) Page 4