Banished

by Liz de Jager

  ‘Listen to what she’s saying. Keep quiet and wait this out.’

  I try to pull my arm from his grip and snap, ‘Let me go.’

  ‘No. Stay.’ He seems to be enjoying this a bit too much and as I raise my other hand to slap him away, he grabs it and forces it down too. ‘Just stop.’ His smile has a definite edge to it now and I can hear the growl in his voice.

  Thorn looks past us at Olga, who watches the screen intently. I fully expect him to get annoyed with Aiden and tell him to stop manhandling me but he’s too preoccupied with what Olga is doing. So much for the prince helping the damsel.

  I twist in my seat so I can watch Olga as she moves silently down the stairs. She holds the blade by her side and is moving with stealth, only slightly favouring her good leg. The chimes are silent now, and I wonder if that is what they heard when we turned up earlier. And if they watched us before coming downstairs to open the door. They must have. It’s a clever, also safe, way of doing business.

  Aiden stops paying me any attention and sits with his head tilted to the side, as if he’s following her descent into the dark shop by hearing alone. I feel his grip on both my arms loosen and I’m up and away from him, unsheathing my sword in one smooth move, already moving down the stairs after Olga before either he or Thorn can do anything.

  The shop also seems far darker than before and I try not to start when I see figures coalesce from the shadowy recesses. They are humanoid shapes cut from the night itself, a darkness so absolute they seem to swallow any light around them.

  My magic rises with them and I play out the tiniest of tendrils, curious and attracted to them against my better judgement. Using magic in another magic user’s home is not polite and I shrug off Jamie’s warnings in my ear, knowing that I am breaking a serious taboo. Just earlier today I almost chewed off Thorn’s ear for flaunting host/guest etiquette and here I am doing the exact same thing.

  I watch as they coast up to Olga, solidifying into a dark mass behind her. Their presence seems to bolster her and she pulls her shoulders back and lifts her head. The knife in her hand glints in the darkness.

  She’s by the door now but, instead of opening it, she puts her palms flat against the door. When she turns her head to look at me, her eyes shine an eerie white and I snap my magic guiltily back in place.

  ‘Get ready,’ she says and although she’s several metres away, I can hear her voice close by my ear.

  Behind me the two boys creep towards me. Movement from Olga draws my attention.

  ‘If anything happens,’ she says, looking over her shoulder at Aiden, then at me, ‘take Thorn and run. Keep him safe.’ Aiden looks as if he wants to protest but he must see something in her expression that changes his mind. He nods briefly and moves in front of Thorn, effectively blocking the Sidhe’s path.

  I spin around, not keen to see how Thorn reacts to being handed over to someone else’s care like a favourite toy. My attention is drawn back to Olga as she swings the door open.

  There’s only one person out there and Olga’s just in time to catch them as they fall forward. She grunts and quickly pulls the stranger back into the passage as I move past her to look into the wet night.

  From somewhere nearby some thing starts laughing. It’s a high cackling sound and the fine hairs on the back of my neck rise with it. Soon, the single voice is joined by more voices and I’m reminded of a nature show I watched once when I was little. It was the sound of hyena laughter. A full-body shudder goes through me as I peer out into the darkness.

  There are maybe ten of them, and even though they are a distance away, on the far side of the road, I can see that they are big, brutish, hulking things. Redcaps? I narrow my eyes and concentrate. I am tired and my magic feels sluggish but it responds to my stubborn insistence.

  As I did back at the Manor, I let a strand of my magic flash towards them, but it happens faster than I intend and I’m up close and in their faces far too quickly. It’s dizzying and I reach out and lean against the doorjamb in an effort not to fall down.

  Eventually I focus my abilities by drawing my power back a bit, getting a wider picture. No, they’re not redcaps. Nor are they anything that I do recognize. They look part goblin, part feral dog. Still shorter than me, these creatures are squat and muscular, with deep chests and strong forearms. Their skin looks like rough pelt. As I watch, they circle each other, yipping, making odd barking noises. Like hyenas. I blink. I look at their pelts, at their sly faces and tiny midnight eyes and shudder. They are my nightmares made real.

  ‘Mutations,’ I say, drawing my magic away from them and snapping back to myself. I look at Olga as she’s crouched next to the trembling figure on the floor. ‘What are they even doing here?’

  Olga mutters under her breath. ‘Chimera.’ She says the word like something dirty, with a low snarl in her voice. ‘Unclean magic.’

  Ice crawls down my spine. I’ve heard about chimera, about the rumours of them, but didn’t know they actually still existed. The rumours we’d heard were that enterprising sorcerers in the Otherwhere had taken it on themselves to play with genetics, creating monster hybrids. They toured them around the Otherwhere, like travelling circuses, putting up these huge hybrid-versus-hybrid fights. The draw was tremendous until one of them broke free and went rampaging into a crowd, killing a handful of Sidhe nobles. The circuses were shut down and the monsters were destroyed. Or so we were told.

  When Olga straightens she’s holding the figure in her arms. I try not to think about how strong she must be to pick up a dead weight off the floor the way she just did.

  ‘Shut the door,’ she tells me as she moves back into the shop towards the kitchen. ‘Use all the locks.’

  I do as I’m told, sliding all the locks shut, but not before I take a final look at the rain-drenched figures at the other side of the square. They are milling around, like a pack of hungry animals. One of them, the leader, is focused on Emm’s, staring unblinkingly at me as I slowly close the door. The howling and laughter starts again and I suppress the urge to run away. Running away makes you look like prey. And if there is one thing I’m not, it is prey.

  Olga lays our visitor on the small couch in the tiny living room. She peels back the wet cloak and mutters under her breath.

  ‘It’s Scarlet,’ she says, her voice low. She shoots a meaningful look at Thorn, who looks poleaxed.

  I go to the kitchen and rummage around for a medicine kit as they speak quietly. I find disinfectant and bandages but some instinct tells me that they won’t be enough. I grab a load of clean tea towels too and walk back into the lounge.

  ‘She’s my brother’s bodyguard,’ Thorn’s telling Aiden. ‘If she’s here it means he’s definitely been taken. Or worse.’

  I step closer and look down at the female warrior stretched out on the couch. She’s not wearing armour but is instead dressed in unobtrusive greys and browns beneath a dark cloak – all are now soaked in blood.

  Olga starts packing the more serious wounds with the tea towels in an attempt to stop the blood.

  ‘Scarlet,’ Thorn says, curling a hand around the tiny Fae’s slender hand. ‘Scar, can you hear me?’

  The Fae’s impossibly purple eyes flutter open to find Thorn. For a second there is confusion, which clears to reveal a look of relief.

  ‘Thorn . . .’ Her voice sounds husky and raw, and I try not to imagine her screaming in pain. ‘What are you doing here?’

  Olga motions to me and I hand over the rest of the drying-up cloths without a word. She applies pressure to the seeping cuts across Scarlet’s chest and stomach. The smell of blood is so intense it sticks to the back of my throat but I can’t look away from the warrior lying prone on the couch.

  ‘I’d rather hear how you came to be here,’ Thorn counters with a smile. ‘Even if you are making a mess of Olga’s couch.’

  Scarlet’s laugh is a hitch of pain but she shakes her head. ‘Funny boy. I’ve come to warn the witch,’ she says, her voice a low whisper.
‘To get a message to the Free Fae to keep running. And to try and find you.’ She leans back with a groan, in obvious pain. ‘I almost made it. But they caught up with me outside. So close.’

  ‘You’re safe now,’ Thorn assures her. ‘Can we get you anything?’

  ‘Water. I’m very thirsty.’

  Behind me, Aiden heads to the kitchen without a word.

  Olga nudges Thorn so she can tend to Scarlet’s cuts but from the way she’s frowning I suspect that it really is as bad as it looks.

  ‘Where is the king?’ Scarlet struggles to stay focused and her gaze is hot with pain. Every word is laboured when she speaks. ‘Have you seen him?’ She closes her eyes as Thorn silently shakes his head. ‘I had such hope I would find him, or anyone. Thorn.’ She gasps and lets out a long ragged breath. ‘They took Kieran from his study. I was with Evi in the gardens when the attack came. I had to get her to safety first but when I got to the study Kieran was gone.’

  My heart goes out to her. Her distress is genuine. She tries to move but both Olga and Thorn urge her to keep still.

  ‘I lost him,’ she says, her voice bereft and filled with tears. ‘I let them take him.’

  ‘I doubt it, Scar. I’ve seen you fight.’ Thorn gives a wry laugh. ‘You beat me up every time you taught fencing. I know you wouldn’t have let them just take my brother.’

  Aiden passes Thorn a glass of water and he helps Scarlet sit up and drink.

  ‘Do you know who attacked the Citadel?’ Olga asks her once she’s settled back down again.

  ‘Eadric.’ Scarlet’s voice is firmer now, and sharp with dislike as she says his name. ‘The attacks were well coordinated. No one knew what was going on at first.’

  ‘But you got Evi away and that’s what matters,’ Thorn says. ‘Kieran would want his wife and unborn child safe. It would give him something to fight for.’

  ‘Exactly what I thought.’ She coughs and blood bubbles onto her lips. A punctured lung. Even without any medical training I know that. Her breathing is becoming more laboured, but she is determined to deliver her message. ‘Thorn, you have to keep moving. If they know you’re here . . .’ Her hand flutters. ‘They’ll come for you. Eadric . . . Eadric is insane. When no one knew where you were, he raged. He threw one of his guards off a balcony in a fit of anger.’

  ‘Why would he even care where I am?’ Thorn shakes his head. ‘I’m nobody.’

  ‘You are a legitimate heir to the throne. As is your brother. He wants you all where he can control you.’

  ‘My father was right to send him away,’ Thorn mutters, looking at Olga, who is sitting on the floor beside the couch with one of Scarlet’s hands in hers. Her other hand holds the tea towels in place and she has a look of helplessness on her face that I don’t like.

  After a long silent moment, Scarlet speaks again. ‘There’s something else. They found the stone in the caves below the Citadel and they’re moving it.’

  I look blankly at Aiden but he just shrugs at me and I lean towards Thorn.

  ‘What does that mean?’

  ‘There’s a large block of black stone that’s been part of the Citadel for a very long time,’ Thorn says, not looking away from Scarlet. ‘Legend says that the stone is the gateway used in the Dawn Age to send the Elder Gods to their prison.’

  ‘It was all they could talk about,’ Scarlet says. ‘Bringing them back. Reinstating their rule.’

  Her gaze meets mine and she seems to notice me for the first time.

  ‘Blackhart?’ Her eyes move between Thorn and me and she lets out a sigh. ‘You found safety with the Blackharts. Thank the moon and stars. Girl, swear to me that you will look after him. You will see him to safety.’

  I nod, struck by her intensity. ‘I swear.’

  There’s a slight ping of magic and I feel a soft warmth spread through me, as if she has just touched me and left me some of her own power.

  ‘Thank you.’ Her smile is bright in her pain-ravaged face. She turns to look at Thorn and her eyes are pleading. ‘When you free Kieran, tell him . . .’

  Thorn folds her hand to his chest. ‘I’ll tell him,’ he promises.

  Scarlet lies back against the cushion and closes her eyes. Then she just slips away.

  We stay like that, a frozen tableau, for a few seconds before Thorn stands up, unclasping his hand from Scarlet’s.

  He looks pale and angry, but determined. ‘We need to say our goodbyes to Scarlet. Then . . . we have to find my father. The palace is lost and so is my brother. I can’t lose my father too.’

  Chapter Seventeen

  ‘I’m surprised I fit in the back of your car,’ says Aiden, sounding genuinely astonished. I watch him in the rear-view mirror and grin. What he calls ‘fitting’ and what I call ‘crowding in at a weird angle, twisting your head sideways looking very uncomfortable’ are clearly the same thing.

  ‘Maybe you should consider that the world’s not quite made to accommodate giants any more.’

  ‘Hah. My brothers and my dad are taller still. Remember, I’m the youngest in the pack.’

  I groan dramatically. ‘Really? There are people even bigger than you?’

  He nods. Well, he tries to nod but his head gets stuck against Lolita’s roof. ‘Hey, do you think the sunroof opens all the way?’

  ‘No. You aren’t opening the sunroof and sitting with your head outside. It’s pouring with rain.’ I sound like an adult. I really don’t like it that much.

  ‘Well, not now, maybe later, you know? When it’s not raining.’

  I am not usually good with banter but it’s surprisingly easy with Aiden. We left Olga behind and are heading to Aiden’s house in Kensington. We held a simple ceremony for Scarlet in the small courtyard garden at the back of Emm’s. Olga threw a blanketing spell over us so that we would remain unobserved from any peering eyes. Thorn carried Scarlet and I watched in astonishment as roots broke through the damp soil in the small garden and rapidly grew upwards, twining and entwining themselves into a an elaborate coffin large enough to hold Scar’s broken body. Olga wrapped Scar carefully in a piece of snow-white silk before Thorn laid her in the cradle. The three of us stood over the Fae’s body as Thorn sang a farewell dirge to his friend. His voice wasn’t loud but it climbed into the sky and for a few minutes even the rain seemed to die down to allow us to say goodbye. Thorn laid a large thistle on Scar’s chest and stood back as Olga knelt down and pressed her palm into the ground. Slowly the roots started retracting back into the earth, folding shut around the coffin. The earth claimed the faerie and the rain started up again. We went indoors and Olga wished us goodnight.

  She had people she needed to talk to and had no place to offer us to sleep. Aiden, with his brothers and dad gone, had more than enough space and so we piled into Lolita and with the lure of hot showers and comfortable beds in the offing, I pointed my little car’s nose towards Kensington.

  To be honest, I am so tired and keyed up I can’t think straight any more. So Aiden’s banter keeps me awake and smiling as we drive through London’s deserted streets to the Garrett house. The expanse of Hyde Park looms next to us and I catch glimpses of it through the fence.

  There are shadows moving within shadows in the park. I slow down to peer in, but right now all I want is to get somewhere warm and safe where we won’t be attacked by strange creatures.

  Lolita responds to my touch as I speed up again. I don’t know what’s in the park, but it’s keeping pace with us. I try not to let it freak me out as I’ve managed to keep my eyes on the deserted roads for most of the journey. The traffic lights mostly play along, but I charge through any amber lights, refusing to slow down or stop.

  Whatever’s keeping pace with us can’t leave the confines of the park, I realize. I glance quickly to catch sight of it as it falls behind us. In the faint light I glimpse shiny black flanks, legs and hooves that clip fire from the ground.

  While Aiden chats to Thorn about why he was left behind when most of the pack went to E
dinburgh, I ponder whether I saw a large black horse loose in Hyde Park or something much more sinister. Night mares are mythical entities that manifest as black horses. They ride storms, distributing bad dreams to the susceptible. I hope I haven’t just seen one.

  Aiden’s neighbourhood is quiet and we drive into an underground garage after he keys us in via an intricate-looking alarm system. He doesn’t bother showing us the rest of the house and just leads us to two spare bedrooms opposite each other. Each room has its own bathroom and, after shutting the door, I strip my clothes off without thought and stumble into the shower, where I almost fall asleep leaning against the wall.

  The bed is as soft and comfortable as Aiden promised and I get a solid four hours in before Thorn wakes me up with a cup of coffee at half past seven. He looks nauseous at the smell of the stuff and hands it to me as if it’s a bomb. I can’t help but laugh softly and he flames red.

  ‘The wolf is making breakfast,’ he says, looking worried.

  ‘I’m sure he knows how to look after his guests,’ I say, pushing my hair out of my face. ‘You’re looking better.’

  And he is. The cut above his brow has faded to a red line and I notice that he moves his arm and shoulder more easily and overall he just looks more awake and alert. His shoulders are square and there’s a determined glint to his eyes that I like.

  ‘I slept well.’ He touches the cut above his brow gingerly. ‘But then I also had a good nurse yesterday, so thank you, again, for helping me.’

  I wave my hand. ‘Glad you’re healing. I was worried Aiden and I would have to carry you into battle.’ I smile so he knows I’m teasing and I’m relieved when he smiles back. It’s still not up to full wattage, but it’s enough to make me aware of the fact that he’s in my room and I’m only wearing a very short T-shirt under the duvet.

  ‘Give me ten minutes, then I’ll see you in the kitchen,’ I say, raising my eyebrows meaningfully at him, waiting for him to move. But he hesitates and, when I follow his gaze, he’s staring at my accidentally exposed thigh. I bite down on mortification and brazen it out. I’m sure that he’s seen half-naked girls in the past – and seeing a bit of flesh first thing in the morning can’t be a bad start to the day, right?