The Boy with One Name

by J. R. Wallis

  Thomas Gabriel smiled innocently. ‘I think I deserved the key, don’t you?’

  ‘Tell him, Jones,’ said the gun. ‘Warn him what he’s doing.’

  Jones stared at the key and shrugged. ‘It ain’t my business. Besides, I don’t think the Ordnung’s worth talking about, do you?’ and he looked at Ruby, who shook her head.

  ‘So, we’re all agreed then,’ said Thomas Gabriel and he swung the silver key in front of the gun as if to taunt it. ‘Anyway, my Commencement’s got to be a good thing,’ he announced. ‘If Jones wants to get his parents back before that Witch can eat them tonight, he’s going to need someone who can use magic.’ He stopped swinging the key and looked at Ruby and Jones. ‘You’re going to need all the help you can get to kill Mrs Easton and I’m more than happy to help because I want that Witch off my æhteland.’

  TWENTY-SEVEN

  Jones and Ruby decided to drive to London rather than use Slap Dust like Thomas Gabriel, who was eager to get home and Commence. They didn’t want to leave the van in the field where it might draw attention to itself and Jones wanted to take everything with them too, given the task ahead of them in Hampstead.

  They drove through what was left of the night, Jones blinking through his tired eyes as he focused on the road and Ruby keeping him company by reading up all she could on Witches in the Pocket Book, the gun snoring in the backpack by her feet. At one point, Jones pulled over and they both drank a yellow, bitter-tasting tonic poured out of a bottle into a spoon, which he assured Ruby would reinvigorate her. He was right, and Ruby soon felt the tiredness melting away from her eyes and the stiffness in her bones disappearing.

  They arrived at Simeon’s house in the sharp, early daylight, with the traffic already building for the morning rush hour into London. The tall gates had been left open by Thomas Gabriel allowing them to pull into the semi-circular driveway in front of the house. After Jones had turned off the engine, Ruby slammed the Pocket Book shut.

  ‘Well?’ asked Jones.

  ‘Witches eat their longest-serving acolytes every year on St John’s Eve during what’s called the Witching Hour, the hour after midnight. There’s a well-known book all about it called The Power of the Hour apparently. The meal’s supposed to help boost a Witch’s Wiccacraeft for the year ahead.’

  ‘Does it say how to use the Dark Bottle?’

  Ruby delved into the old battered backpack beside her feet and took out the Bottle. Grabbing the stopper, she pulled it out very slightly. ‘There’s a dagger pushed down into the neck. Do you see?’ Jones nodded as he saw a sharp blade being drawn out, as black as night. ‘A Witch puts all her greatest fears in a Bottle like this, and I reckon the dagger’s infected with it somehow. Put your ear close to it.’ Jones heard the faint whispering of voices and pulled away, spooked by the talking blade. Ruby slid the knife carefully back into the neck of the Bottle, and made sure the hilt was pushed in tight before putting it away. ‘Stab Mrs Easton with the knife and she’ll die. Her greatest fears will kill her.’

  ‘Simple as that?’

  ‘As simple as that.’ Ruby managed a smile that Jones couldn’t quite match. He wanted to tell Ruby how scared he was, not of the Witch, or even of dying, but of never becoming the ordinary boy he so desperately wanted to be. Even though Simeon had told him his parents could recover from Mrs Easton’s curse if the Witch was killed, he wondered how long it might take and how hard it would be. It scared Jones to think that killing the Witch might mean nothing if his parents took years to become normal again. What if he was all grown up before they were better?

  Thomas Gabriel banged on the van window and made them both jump. He grinned at them and held up a copy of The Black Book of Magical Instruction. His One Eye was fluttering round it excitedly.

  ‘Think we can trust him?’ whispered Ruby as she took off her seat belt.

  ‘The way I see it, three of us is better than two,’ said Jones, taking off his belt as well. He leant forward towards Ruby. ‘And if he can do magic then I’m gonna need him to help my parents get better, once the Witch is dead, after being cursed for so long.’

  Thomas Gabriel was still smiling after they opened the doors and stepped out onto the gravel drive.

  ‘Commenced as soon as I got back. I’ve already started learning how to use magic. I think I’m a natural.’ He flicked his fingers and muttered the word ‘Æppel’ and a small set of white sparks circled his fingers. They spun and whirled and vanished to reveal an apple in his hand. When he offered it to Ruby, she shook her head and he bit down hard into the waxy red skin to prove it was real. He grinned at Jones as he chewed.

  ‘See, nothing went wrong with my Commencement like your gun said it would. The magic works fine, just like it should.’ And he took another bite to prove it. ‘Do you have a plan for the Witch? I read up on Dark Bottles. For the dagger inside the Bottle to work the best it can, it needs to be plunged straight through a Witch’s heart.’

  ‘We knew that,’ said Ruby, glancing at Jones to reassure him.

  ‘First of all, I want to observe the Witch’s shop,’ said Jones. ‘Find out exactly what we’re dealing with. After that, we can work out a plan.’

  ‘There’s not much time, Jones,’ said Thomas Gabriel, taking another bite of the apple.

  ‘Be prepared, remember, that’s how Badlanders work. Maitland used to say there’s always a way to get something done if you look hard enough.’

  ‘What if Mrs Easton knows we’ve taken the Bottle? She must have some connection to it. She might be waiting for someone to turn up. Or she might even be trying to find it now.’

  Ruby cleared her throat. Held up the Pocket Book. ‘Once a Dark Bottle’s been hidden, a Witch feels no attachment to it. All her fears placed inside it must be renounced completely.’

  ‘Fine, I know where the shop is,’ said Thomas Gabriel, tossing away his apple core.

  Jones shook his head. ‘Just me and Ruby’ll go. The Witch might get suspicious if Simeon’s apprentice is snooping around. Besides, Ruby’s a girl. The Witch won’t suspect anything.’

  Thomas Gabriel whirled his fingers and muttered a word or two and fired a shot of white sparks at a bush, which set fire to some of the leaves. ‘I’ll just keep practising then. And, by the way, I’m not an apprentice any more. This is my house now. My æhteland. That’s why I’m helping you. And remember I own Maitland’s house as well, given that everything Simeon owned will pass to me. But I suppose if you’re nice I might give it back to you,’ and he shrugged at them.

  Jones and Ruby bought coffees in a small café and sat in the window seats, drinking out of white mugs, watching Mrs Easton’s shop, which was positioned a little further down the street. They had spotted it from a distance as they walked along the road. The sunlight had been bouncing off a large glass window, making it difficult to see in, but there was a white wooden board above the shop with black lettering that read: Easton’s Bakery & Pâtisserie. There was a large house attached to the shop. As they studied the comings and goings of customers, they saw nothing out of the ordinary.

  When a ginger cat appeared out of the dark mouth of an alleyway and started walking towards the shop, Jones watched it with interest.

  ‘Cats are very sensitive to certain creatures. It might give us a clue about what’s in that shop or the house behind it.’

  ‘We know what’s in there, Jones. A bloody great Witch,’ said Ruby, under her breath. ‘I’m not sure sitting here’s going to tell us much we don’t know already.’

  ‘Witches have familiars, creatures they like to have around. We ain’t just taking on a Witch, Ruby. There’s other things in there with her. It would be good to know what they are.’ He leant forward in his chair, eager to watch the cat. ‘Cats are very sensitive to Demons and Wights.’

  But his face fell as the cat padded straight past the shop door and hopped up onto the sill of the large window beside it, where it sat down and started washing its ears.

  ‘So what else do Badlan
ders look out for?’ asked Ruby.

  ‘Dogs’ll show you things. They’re sensitive to most types of Trolls and Ents and will pull their owners away from a particular building if they sense something they don’t like about it. Or sometimes you’ll notice there aren’t any birds on a roof when there’s others perched on the tops of buildings around it. That’ll tell you there’s a Gást there.’ He nodded at a mother wheeling a pram, walking towards the shop. ‘Babies are sensitive to little creatures. They can start bawling and then shut up as soon as they’ve gone past a place with an Æelf in it.’ Ruby watched the mum go straight past the shop, but there was no sound from the baby. When a couple of pigeons landed on the shop’s roof and began cooing gently, Jones cursed under his breath. He knew time was ticking on and they hadn’t learnt anything useful so far. ‘Is it really true what you told me ’bout your scrying mirror, that you can only spy on someone if you’ve met them before or places you’ve been?’

  ‘Yes.’

  Jones drummed his fingers on the table as his brain whirred. ‘You’ve seen Mrs Easton when the Gást showed her to us. Does that count?’

  Seeing they were the only customers in the café, Ruby unzipped the battered black backpack by her feet and took out the mirror. She looked into the glass, focusing hard on trying to see Mrs Easton. But nothing materialized. Eventually, she shook her head. ‘I need to go into the shop if I want to see anything in the mirror.’

  Jones grunted. ‘That could be dangerous.’

  ‘So? Isn’t that the business we’re in?’ Ruby took out the Dark Bottle and gave it to Jones for safekeeping, and he put it in one of his charmed overcoat pockets as she zipped up the mirror inside the backpack. ‘All I need to do is go in, buy something, and come out again, then I’ll be able to spy on the shop and the house behind it too.’ She stood up, hefting the backpack onto her shoulders. ‘Jones, there’s no other way of knowing what’s in there. You’re just not used to working with anyone else except Maitland.’

  ‘It’s not that. You’re the only friend I’ve got. Who else is gonna show me stuff on how to be an ordinary boy?’ He blushed a little round the edges.

  ‘I’ll be fine. I’ve got this,’ she said, inching the gun out of her jacket pocket so Jones could see it but no one else. ‘And Mrs Easton’ll never suspect I’m a Badlander. And another thing: I read up on Witches that are Six-Toed and Goggle-Eyed last night. Mrs Easton might be a rare kind of Witch, but her type only eats boys, not girls. So she won’t be interested in me, will she? While I go into the shop, why don’t you go round the back? Find out if there’s a way in. We need to know everything we can, don’t we?’

  Jones grabbed her hand before she turned round and handed her the bottle of black Slap Dust. ‘Just in case,’ he said. ‘We meet back here as soon as we’re done.’

  ‘Any last advice?’

  ‘If you see anything strange, get out as fast as you can.’

  The pink cake boxes in the shop window were stacked like bricks to make a semi-circular wall too high to allow anyone to see into the shop. Laid out in front of it were cakes of various shapes and sizes on stands, with some under glass domes. The icing on them looked so elegant and pristine, Ruby wondered if they were made of plastic. Heaped all around the stands were colourful tins of sweets – sherbet lemons, pear drops and wine gums – elegant white cartons of chocolates tied round with red ribbons and wooden bowls full of green, pink and white sugar mice with black dots for eyes and long tails made from white string. Loaves of bread were arranged down each side of the window display and beautiful jam tarts were sitting on top of them.

  Ruby heard her stomach gurgle and then remembered she had a job to do.

  When she opened the door, a little silver bell tinkled. A young woman was sitting behind a long rectangular counter made from glass at the far end of the shop. She looked up from her newspaper and studied Ruby briefly before returning to her reading again, turning the page and blowing a pink bubble of gum that popped. Inside the glass counter in front of her was beautiful patisserie arranged in rows. There were chocolate eclairs as long as her foot. Beautiful tarts, large and small, full of fruit and made with rich butter pastry bases. Huge gingerbread men lay on trays with big iced smiles, and elegant cupcakes covered with different-coloured icing were arranged in rows. There was a line of chocolate cakes, some topped with shavings of dark chocolate, one with elaborate white and dark chocolate roses, and others topped with cream and meringue with icing piped around the edges.

  Behind the counter, slatted wooden shelves were full of freshly baked loaves of bread of all shapes and sizes. A doorway to the right of it was blocked off with a curtain made from long strands of multicoloured beads that reached to the floor.

  As Ruby walked towards the counter, she kept glancing at the bead curtain, wondering what was behind it. But her curiosity disappeared as soon as she saw a picture on the front of the newspaper the shop girl was reading. It was her. It was a picture of her face.

  Ruby tugged her baseball cap further down over her eyes as the girl put the paper down and smiled.

  ‘What can I get you?’

  ‘Chocolate eclair, please.’

  ‘We got large or small,’ said the shop girl, gesturing at the cakes inside the glass counter.

  Before Ruby had time to say anything, she heard a hissing sound and watched a pair of hands poke through the bead curtain and part it, the plump fingers pressed together as if their owner was about to dive through. Ruby caught a glimpse of a hallway, a thick red carpet and dark wallpaper, confirming that there was indeed a house attached to the back of the shop. And then a matronly woman appeared through the beads and stood behind the counter.

  Ruby recognized Mrs Easton immediately and she managed to stop a little gasp escaping her mouth.

  TWENTY-EIGHT

  The Witch smiled at Ruby. It was a full-bloodied, all-toothy smile, full of pink gums and bright red lipstick.

  ‘Wanna read your horoscope, Mrs Easton?’ asked the shop girl as she pointed at the newspaper on the counter.

  ‘No thank you, Sophie.’ Mrs Easton’s voice was as brittle as dead leaves. ‘I’m not sure I believe in all that hocus-pocus, dear. It’s almost lunchtime: why don’t I serve this young lady and you get off for your break?’

  Sophie slid off her stool and grabbed her coat from a peg on the wall behind her. Clearly, she could not leave fast enough. ‘Thanks. See you later then, Mrs Easton.’

  The woman took a step back to let Sophie past and smiled at Ruby. ‘What can I get you?’ she asked, as she took hold of the glasses hanging on a chain around her neck and set them on her nose.

  ‘Eclair. Small one.’ Ruby pushed a five-pound note across the glass counter as Sophie’s shoes squeaked behind her on the floor.

  Mrs Easton looked at Ruby as if something in the tone of her voice had interested her immensely. The shop door opened and banged shut, making Ruby flinch. And then it was just the two of them.

  Every little nerve in Ruby was on edge even though Mrs Easton appeared to be the kindest, sweetest woman. Her cheeks looked as soft as peaches. A rich mound of brown hair was tied back in a bun without a curl out of place. Her fingernails were pared into perfect semi-circles. Everything about her suggested she was a clean, virtuous woman as Ruby caught a whiff of soap and lavender.

  But Ruby saw through it all. She thought of what Jones had told her about the Badlands on the first night they’d met; the scary things that lurked on the edge of ordinary people’s lives and right under their noses sometimes.

  Mrs Easton picked up a small pink cake box and opened it. She smiled as she reached for a pair of tongs and flexed them, making a clinking sound as the ends tapped together. Her eyes flicked to Ruby’s face and back to the picture on the front of the newspaper which was still on the counter.

  ‘I think I know who you are. You’re that runaway girl, aren’t you?’

  Ruby’s heart screamed.

  She thought she was shaking her head and sayin
g ‘no’. But she wasn’t. She was just staring into Mrs Easton’s face, and then she nodded in agreement as if someone had taken control of her neck.

  ‘I knew it!’ said the Witch. ‘It’s the eyes. They’re a window into a person; they let you glimpse who someone really is if you look deep enough into them. And I can.’ Ruby noticed that Mrs Easton smelt different now, like hot metal, but she could not remember when the change had happened. Her blue eyes, magnified by her glasses, were much brighter than before and Ruby could not stop staring into the big black pupils. ‘A person’s eyes are very, very special indeed,’ said Mrs Easton. She pushed her glasses higher up her nose. The lenses were doing something, making her eyes shimmer. All thoughts Ruby had of running out of the shop like Jones had told her to do were starting to vanish. Her mind kept slipping like the gears on an old, broken bike.

  ‘Who else knows you’re here, dear?’

  Ruby summoned all her strength to lie. ‘No one.’

  Mrs Easton observed her like a schoolmistress dealing with a naughty child. ‘Are you sure?’

  Ruby licked her lips. It was difficult to lie when the woman was looking at her like that through those glasses. But she managed to slip her mind sideways and tell the truth. Sort of.

  ‘Not one adult knows I’m here except for you and Sophie.’

  Mrs Easton studied her, tapping a finger on her lips. And then she smiled.

  ‘So you’re not with anyone else?’

  Ruby clenched her toes inside her trainers to try and help her concentrate on what she wanted to say. She was not with anyone here in this shop. So that’s what she focused on.

  ‘No,’ she said quietly, her voice wavering as she struggled to say what she wanted. Mrs Easton observed her for a second, and then walked out from behind the counter. By the sound of the woman’s shoes on the floor, Ruby guessed she was going to look out of the window. But she could not turn her head to look because her body did not seem to be hers any more. There was no way of reaching for the gun in her pocket.