Sixty-One Nails cotf-1

by Mike Shevdon

  Trying to wield gallowfyre like a sword or a club wasn't working. I been thinking of it as a weapon with which I could strike out. I was wrong. It wasn't a weapon. It was part of me.

  Closing my eyes, I felt the cool dim light as it swam around me. I told myself it responded to me because it was me. I looked inwards, following the dappled light to its source deep inside, feeling it become stronger, harsher, burning like a molten core within me. In the centre of that core was nothing.

  I had found the opening.

  In my mind's eye it was both absence and presence, a duality at the centre of my being. It was a hole within me left gaping to the void, opening out into endless nothing and allowing endless nothing back in. I smiled inwardly, understanding it was a mirror and a gateway. I carried it with me. It would allow me to reach into the void anytime I wanted to. At the same time, it allowed the void to reach into me.

  Now I understood.

  I opened the gateway.

  It rolled into me like a seething flood. I heard my own sharp breath and felt my spine arch as it hit me, flooding down my nerves with icy power. My muscles went rigid, my eyes shot open. My nerves shrieked as the floodgates opened and it boiled out of me, a swirling nimbus of ravenous shadows. The flickering moonlight showed the shadows of tentacles, unseen except for the darkness they cast in the light of the gallowfyre, they licked the walls and swept across the surfaces. The tiny motes left hiding there were consumed almost incidentally as the flood of dark power swept through the debris, the darkspore sparking tiny flares in the roiling darkness as it was consumed. In those flares, I heard the echoes of distant screams as they boiled away.

  It made me smile.

  The void sang though me, its dark harmonies humming through my veins, the heavy bass of hunger rumbling around like echoes of thunder. It rolled like a restless flood around the room, searching for anything to fill that gaping emptiness. I held my breath. For one terrible second I thought it would turn back on me so I would end up like Fenlock, a withered husk. It calmed, though, pooling around me, sending curious tendrils into the debris, searching for morsels like a curious medusa.

  "Niall! Niall, can you hear me? You might want to do something."

  I turned to the door behind me. It had found the crack under the door and was coiling into the crevice. Panic filled me and, in response, it wriggled back and wound around me, curling around my legs protectively.

  I found myself unwilling to pull it back within me. It was connected with me in a way that was profound. I knew I should send it back to the dark well within me but part of me wanted to unleash it and let it feed itself.

  For the first time, I understood. This was what the Untainted wanted; to unleash their power on the world and let it sing its hungry song. This was what they were fighting for; the right to be true to themselves. The thought sobered me and I steeled myself, turning the coils inwards, calling the darkness to slip back into the well where it sank back into the core. My gaze turned inwards for a moment, marvelling at the thing within me. It was tiny yet filled with endless emptiness, a minute black sun shining inside me.

  Blackbird had said in the room above the abandoned tube station, "We stand between life and power," not as a statement of belief but as an acknowledgement of fact. Here it was. This core of power was in me now, as much part of me as my heart or my mind. It would be there for as long as I lived and finally, when I died, it would turn on me and consume me.

  Strangely, there was peace in that.

  Blackbird started when I opened the door. She was standing close as if she'd been listening for something, but not so close as to touch the door.

  "Are you well?" she asked.

  "I'm fine."

  She must have heard the uncertainty in my voice because she arched an eyebrow at me.

  "I'm good. Just a little spaced," I reassured her.

  She smiled. "The first time is like that. It's like opening a door in your heart."

  "Or a well in your soul."

  "Did you succeed?"

  "I touched everything. If there were a trace left, I would know it." I looked down at the slumped form at Blackbird's feet. Claire's eyes were open, but she wasn't seeing me. "Is she going to be all right?"

  "Get me a chair, would you? She'll be better if she's upright."

  I turned back into the office and found an upturned chair which I placed against the wall. Blackbird dragged Claire inside and pushed the door closed with her feet. Between us we manhandled Claire into the chair.

  I went to retrieve her handbag from the floor outside where it had fallen before anyone noticed what was going on, though I could feel Blackbird's influence around us, turning curious eyes away.

  When I re-entered, Claire was sat forward with her face in her hands.

  "Never," she said, "never do that again."

  Blackbird stood out of arms reach. "You left me no choice. If you had broken into the room when Niall was calling gallowfyre then you would be dead."

  "I should be dead." She looked up at me. "Gallowfyre. That's in the journals. Only the Seventh Court have gallowfyre, isn't that right?"

  "Apparently," I admitted.

  "I don't understand. If you're from the Seventh Court, why are you here?"

  "He's not from the Seventh Court, though how that can happen, neither of us knows right now."

  "So what does that make you?" she asked me.

  "I wish I knew, Claire."

  "Do you have the nail?"

  "Not yet."

  "I don't suppose there's anything I can do to prevent you taking it, though, is there? You have my key already."

  "You need us to have the nail, Claire," said Blackbird. "I know you have doubts but we are your only hope."

  "Hope of what?" she asked.

  "Of preserving the world you live in. Of keeping the Seventh Court from entering your world whenever they wish and using it as they will."

  "I suppose I believe you."

  "You know I can't lie."

  "I know you don't always tell the truth either. Very well, take it. Use it."

  "Thank you."

  I took the brass key and, despite being sure that no trace of the darkspore could remain, I picked my way carefully to the cupboard with the safe in it. The door was ajar and I kicked it open with my foot. Filling the bottom of the cupboard was an old safe with enamelled green paint and brass handles. The key fitted easily and turned with oiled precision. The handle turned down and I felt the solid clunk as the bolts retracted into the door. It swung open, revealing shelves of papers together with the soft black leather pouch containing the nails. I collected the bundle and closed the safe, locking it again to remove the key. The iron in the pouch weighed heavy in my hand, its jarring vibration making my nerves jangle.

  I returned the key to her and handed her the nails. "It would be easier if you removed it."

  "Still reluctant to touch the others?"

  "I could tip them all out onto the floor and pick out the one I want, but that would be rude."

  She considered this for a moment and then nodded, unrolling the case on her lap.

  "If you wanted it badly enough, you could have taken it any time." She held up the sixty-first nail for me to take.

  As I touched it, the metal fell into blackness.

  Claire snatched her hand away. "Gracious, that's cold." She rubbed her hand. "Oh, it's like the knife, isn't it?" she said, catching on.

  "Something else for your journal," said Blackbird. "If what we are intending works out, we will bring the new Quick Knife to you later so it can be incorporated into the ceremony on Tuesday. Will you be here?"

  "Yes. I have to get all this cleared up and there are all the preparations for the ceremony. There's still a lot to do. I'm going to be here until midnight at this rate."

  "Don't take unnecessary risks. If you can, have someone stay close to you. If we're not back by nightfall, go to the Highsmiths in Shropshire. Take the Remembrancer and his family with you," Blackbird s
uggested.

  "Will you meet me there?"

  "No, but they have a house full of iron. You may be safe there for a while."

  "A while?"

  "It depends what happens when the barrier comes down. I think they will come here first. This is where it's weakest."

  "What will they do?"

  "Whatever it is, they've waited eight hundred years to do it, so I don't think it will be pretty."

  "Should I warn someone? The authorities? The army?"

  "No one is going to believe you, even if you tell them. And if they did, what are they going to do? Shoot people who look a bit strange? Evacuate London?"

  "Bring the knife, I'll get Jerry to the Courts on Tuesday."

  "That would be best," Blackbird agreed.

  I slipped the nail into my trouser pocket, making sure it wouldn't fall out, and then Claire escorted us down to the security gate, her weak smile as we parted a testament to her uncertainty.

  Out on the Strand, it had clouded over and fat drops of rain were starting to patter onto the pavement. It was just as well that we weren't there long. After only a few moments a huge white van pulled up alongside the pavement and the window wound down to reveal Ben.

  "Jump in," he shouted over to us. "I'll get a ticket if I stop here." The police standing guard at the gates for the Royal Courts of Justice were already eyeing him warily.

  We scrambled over and jumped up onto the bench seat of the van. Ben moved off and there was a brief fumbling followed by a short argument as I made Blackbird wear the only seatbelt. The other one was wedged under the seat somewhere.

  "I've been driving round for about a quarter of an hour, waiting for you to show. We're not going far," Ben told us. "I just need to find somewhere to park this thing. It won't go into a multi-storey. It's too tall."

  "What have you got in here?" I asked him.

  "It's almost empty, but Jeff wanted the car and, anyway, this is a diesel." He said this as if it explained everything.

  We drove down Fleet Street and turned down towards the river, making another right to circle down around the Embankment. Ben eventually found a metered parking spot around by Temple tube station. He fished into his overalls for change.

  "How long do you think we'll be?" he asked us.

  "That depends how long you need to finish the knife," Blackbird answered.

  "If we get four hours, that should be enough shouldn't it? It costs the earth to park round here."

  "It is a bit more expensive than Shropshire," I agreed.

  He jogged through the raindrops and fed coins into the parking meter, returning with a ticket, which he peeled and stuck to the inside of the window. Then he opened the back of the van. He took out a blue metal toolbox, rusted in places where the paint had peeled away, and a short three-section ladder.

  "I won't be easy to get that down through the passages," I told him.

  "It's small enough to get into most places," he reassured me. "And we can use it to get to the keyhole. I can't scramble around like you young things. My legs aren't what they used to be."

  I nodded, accepting his wisdom. It had been a good thought.

  I carried the ladder for him and we walked quickly back up through the Inns of Court to get to the door leading down to the river. Blackbird knew where she was going, so she took the lead and I followed on after, putting Ben in the middle where we could keep an eye on him. Along the way I felt the tingle of Blackbird's magic gently encompass us, lest the strange procession of a young woman with a torch, an old man with a toolbox and another man with a ladder, walking in line through Temple on a Sunday, attract unwanted attention. I shook my head at the strange world I now inhabited.

  We reached the doorway and Blackbird pushed it open, listening in the opening for any disturbance below. There was nothing to hear above the faint stir as the water fell over the weir below us. She produced the torch she had bought earlier and clicked it on. Ben found a larger torch in his toolbox. Mine was still at the bottom of the river, but I could make light if I had to. Anyway, it would take both hands to carry the ladder.

  She led again and I followed with Ben bringing up the rear while he held his light for me as I manoeuvred the ladder around the tight corners of the stairway. He was right; it was a good size for tight places.

  We reached the ledge along the edge of the river. The foam from the weir sloughed off and drifted luminously downstream. The river was higher and louder than it had been when we had been here before, the new rain swelling the flow.

  With Ben holding one end of the ladder and me holding the other, we made our way slowly along the slimy walkway, scraping against the bricks as we edged our way along. With the ladder to carry, it took longer to reach the anvil, though I could feel the brooding presence ahead in the dark, waiting for us.

  We knew we had arrived when the muted roar of the waterfall meant that we had to shout to each other. Blackbird flicked her torch around the arches and the gantry, shining it into nooks and crannies as Ben and I carried the ladder along the bank.

  "We're on our own," she shouted to me. "There's no sign that anyone's been here and the iron door looks untouched."

  It was good news. Part of me had been expecting Raffmir and his friend to be waiting for us, guarding the iron door. Perhaps we could get away with finishing this before anyone found out what we were doing.

  Blackbird climbed up onto the gantry while Ben and I manhandled the ladder and the toolbox up behind her. Then we crossed over the gantry above the underground river and Ben climbed down so I could pass things down to him. I followed them down and we clustered around the place where the iron door was mounted high in the wall. Blackbird held the torch while I extracted the nail from where it was safely stored in my pocket.

  "How does this work then?" Ben asked.

  "I don't know. Why don't you try it first? I'd rather not touch the door if I can possibly help it." The memory of my chance contact with the iron gates at Australia House was still sharp in my mind. I had no wish to be thrown backwards into the churning water under the falls.

  I carefully dropped the nail into the middle of his palm.

  "Which way round does it go?"

  "We don't know. Try it head end first. If it won't go in that way then try it the other way."

  He reached up high and pressed the square end of the head into the lock. It went in a short way and stopped. He tried twisting it but nothing happened. The hole was just the right size for the head, though, making me think we were on the right track.

  "Try the other way around," I told him.

  He pulled out the nail and turned it point first. It slipped into the lock almost up to the head.

  "There's some sort of spring mechanism." He showed me, pressing the nail in so the end of the head was flush with the door. As he relaxed his finger the nail sprang out again. The door stayed resolutely shut.

  "It fits perfect," said Ben, "But nothing's happening."

  "I think it needs a Fey hand," Blackbird said. "It would make sense as a fail-safe. The nail was entrusted to humanity, but humans wouldn't be allowed to open the door without one of the Feyre present."

  "Well, I'd better do it then."

  I was taller than Ben and I could reach unaided. Just in case, though, I fished into my pocket and extracted the Dead Knife. It was still wrapped in the towelling Claire had given me. If I was thrown backwards it wouldn't do to lose one knife while trying to replace the other. I gave it to Blackbird for safe keeping and she slipped it into her bag.

  She stepped back and Ben made room for me. I steeled myself and reached up. Ben had left the nail in the lock and the head protruded about half an inch from the surface of the door. I put my forefinger on the end of the nail and it shimmered into blackness. I pushed it slowly in towards the door, being as careful as I could not to touch the surface of the iron. A hair's breadth away, there was still some give in the spring. I had to take a chance and touch the door.

  I pressed the nail home. As
my finger touched the surface of the door, the surface shimmered in the centre. A disk about the size of a large coin fell into blackness. The disk pushed inwards. There was a heavy clunk in the door and it stopped.

  I carefully pulled out my finger and there was a further clunk as the crack around the door grew darker. I pulled the nail free from the lock and the heavy door swung open slowly. Moving backwards out of the way, I could see it opened into a deep cavity set into the wall. I couldn't see much inside despite Ben's attempt to shine his torch up into it, but I could feel the dark emanations coming from whatever was inside. Ben reached up and put his arm into the space.

  "There's something here. Hang on a sec."

  He got closer to the wall and reached up again, this time grasping something, stepping up on tiptoe to reach. I took the opportunity to step back and slip the nail back into my trouser pocket, keeping it safe.

  "Whoever put it up here was a taller man than me or he had steps to climb on," said Ben.

  "Shall I get the ladders?" I asked him.

  "It's fine. I can manage."

  He dragged the toolbox over and stood on it to give him the height he needed. Neither Blackbird nor I offering to help since we could both feel the vibrations from whatever was contained there. It had the same malevolent nature as the anvil and although that was a promising sign given what we were looking for, it didn't make it any easier for us to bear.

  There was a scraping noise, audible even over the rushing water, and Ben used both hands to draw down a huge hammer. Blackbird and I both stepped back from it.

  "It's a big 'un, isn't it?" Ben said, hefting it down to the floor. "It's much bigger than I'd have thought it needed to be. Are you sure it's the right one?"

  "Oh yes." Blackbird was standing back, hand braced against the wall. I backed away towards the ladder up to the gantry. The cloying rankness of it pressed against me, like a weight on my chest.

  "I might need a hand getting it over onto the island." He scanned the darkness between him and the island.

  "We're not going to be much help to you there, I'm afraid, Ben. I don't really want to be any nearer to it than this and I think Rabbit's too close already."