“Enough of you, Pooka. You will kneel.”
“Yeah, not famous for that.” Her mom straightened up, rolled her shoulders, and stared at the Nocturne. She wasn’t smiling anymore.
“So then, the old-fashioned way.” The Nocturne had her back turned to Emily, but the cold blue light of her eyes colored the air around her. “Do it, or I will tear everything you love apart.”
“Ye—”
“You know we have your husband, but now we have the coins. Who did they come from?”
Her mom’s eye twitched, but she didn’t speak. The Nocturne spread her arms wide and softened her voice.
“Your Emily. Your precious girl.”
Emily’s mom’s face tightened in anger. “Ye’re bluffing,” she said. “I won’t do it.” But her voice wavered as she spoke.
“Would you test me? Truly?” The Nocturne seemed to suck the light from the air around her, standing in shadows lit by the blaze of her eyes. “You saw what I did to my own sister. Think what I will do to your girl.”
The two women stared at each other in silence and it was Emily’s mom who broke first. Her head dropped, and she reached for the necklace of bad pennies in the box and picked them up. She unclipped the clasp, then held the ends in her hands for the space of a few breaths. She closed her eyes, a tear ran down her cheek, and she let the pennies fall, clinking one by one, off the chain and into the box.
“Ye swear ye won’t hurt her. Or Alan?”
“Once you do this, no harm shall come to them by my hand.”
“We both know that’s hardly good enough.” There was a little flare of anger in her mom’s voice, but she looked beaten.
“We both know you have no choice.”
Her mom reached down to the box and picked a single coin out. Face emotionless now, she turned and moved to a long, tube-shaped weight dangling from a chain near the edge of the machine. Emily recognized it from her research; it was the main time-keeping pendulum of the whole mechanism. On the top of it was the bronze gleam of old coins. The timing pennies Emily had read about—tiny, careful weights to keep the clock in order. Emily’s mom leaned in and held the bad penny over the pendulum—a small, dangerous weight that could send the Great Working into chaos. The Nocturne moved closer, face exultant and inhuman.
“Yes.”
Far above her, there was a harmonic vibration, a pregnant, imminent ripple of sound from a giant bell frozen in the act of ringing, now on the brink of release.
Her mom’s hand hovered over the pendulum.
“Do it. Weaken the charm, and I will do the rest. As soon as there is a chime, there is music I can wield.” The Nocturne’s voice was a sibilant whisper. “Think of the child. Place the coin.”
Her mom closed her eyes and …
“Mom, no!” Emily jumped out of hiding and ran into the room. “She’s lying! I’m okay.”
Her mom went white.
“What are you doing here? Run!”
There was a blur of blue and the Nocturne stood behind Emily, gripping her by the neck with a frigid hand.
“You make bluff into reality, you ridiculous child.” The cold grip on her neck tightened with an inhuman strength, and pain rippled through her. “Now, Pooka, if you don’t do what I say, I will show you what tearing apart looks like.”
Her mom squawked. Emily gritted her teeth, closed her eyes, and reached for whatever she truly was. Not letting it take her in panic this time, but claiming it. She found it, held it, and as the clawlike nails dug into her throat, she exhaled and let the loose liquid sensation in her chest flow out to fill her whole being. She became energy. Her other forms were here: a glimpse of sharp teeth and big paws, of a flying mane and sleek forequarters, but beyond her reach this time. Instead she reached for the form she’d already become. She opened the wrapper of the thick muscular back legs, twitching nose, long, lean back, and magnificent ears, and poured herself in, fitting inside the hare, being the hare, and it was the most natural thing in the world.
Her new form wasn’t being gripped by the throat by steel-strong hands. Instead, it was scrabbling at the front of a blue velvet dress, doing some satisfying scratching and biting. The Nocturne cried out as Emily lashed out at her face with teeth and nails, then kicked out hard with her powerful back legs. She bounded onto the floor, skidding on the polished wood, whirling around the Nocturne once in a circle, then accelerating away in a streak to where her mom was standing by the huge clockwork engine. She reached it while the Nocturne was still clutching at her face and whirling around to see where the hare had gone behind her. Emily concentrated, her little hare face all screwed up and paws tensed, and then, with a shudder and a sneeze, she was herself again.
“Urgh. Oh god, that’s so wrong.”
She ignored the wave of sickness that passed over her, and grabbed the box with the slew of coins spread over its velvet lining, snapping it shut and stuffing it inside her coat. Her mom, for once, was speechless.
“Mom, let’s go! Run.”
She reached out and grabbed her mom’s hand, the edge of the silver handcuffs burning her wrist as she did, and yanked her through the door, kicking it shut behind them. They ran as a steam whistle of anger hissed from the Nocturne, and panes of glass cracked all around the room.
“CHILD!”
They skittered onto the landing, and Emily turned to go down, but her mom tugged her across toward the next set of stairs up.
“But?”
“We can’t outrun her—she’ll be straight on us. Come on.”
They hammered up the stairs as the door splintered behind them, then a whir of blue movement erupted out of the room they’d fled. By then, they were through a big door at the top of the stairs, and her mom had slammed it and was tipping up benches to block it. She was really strong. Crikey.
“Grab anything ye can. It won’t hold her, but it might give me a chance to get these cuffs off of me.”
Using all her weight, Emily shoved a big cupboard of tools across the door and piled wooden crates of clockwork cogs up against it, too. Outside, something that sounded way bigger and heavier than the petite Nocturne slammed into the door.
“And don’t think I haven’t noticed this is a school night,” said her mom as she wedged herself against the heaving barricade.
“Oh come on!” said Emily.
“Ha! Come here.” She swept Emily into an awkward, handcuffed side-hug, and they squeezed each other until Emily squeaked.
“You’re loving me too tight!”
“Sorry, darl.”
Emily squeezed out for a breather, and her mom looked her up and down as the barricade rang with blows and dark music from outside.
“Well, look at yerself.” She curled her lip. “I can feel a short and intensely painful conversation with my eejit brother coming on.”
“Oh, you can talk. I need to—Whoa!”
She had looked around the room for the first time since she’d come in.
It was vast and square, and each of the walls was another huge square of white glass with the backward numbers of a clock face on it, lit by a circle of gas lamps and a crackle of occult fire from outside. From a vast clockwork mechanism in the center of the room, a system of rods and chains connected to the middle of each of the backward clock faces, and the huge hands silhouetted against the outside. All of them pointed straight up to show midnight. The whole mechanism was motionless and silent, but it throbbed with contained power and rippled with movement as the emerald actinic light made shadows dance across it. She was behind the clock faces at the very top of the tower. High above her were the dangling forms of immense bells, like five monstrous metal bats in the belfry. A quarter bell in each corner and one huge bell right in the middle—the real Big Ben.
“Cor.”
“S’good, ain’t it? I remember them building it,” said her mom, braced against the stack of furniture. It shuddered as heavy impacts and bursts of deep, bassy sound rocked the whole pile and made Emily’s back teeth and ears throb.
“Now stop being a tourist and find something to get these cuffs off. I can’t change with silver on me.”
Emily had a million questions she wanted to ask, especially the one about what year her mom’s birthday was. Instead she tore around the clock room and came back with a giant wrench. As she got back, the impacts on the door stopped and silence fell.
“Erm, do you think she’s gone? Only, I left my friend Tarkus out there and he’s got a broken …”
A new sound came from outside. A steady, throbbing drumbeat, a deep and primitive rhythm with a guttural chant over it. It sounded old and dark and dangerous. Hunting music. Killing music.
“Oh, that’s never good,” said her mom.
Emily’s mom’s face drained of color.
“We’ve got to get these cuffs off, so I can fight.”
“What? What’s she doing?”
“One thing at a time.”
She gestured at the big wrench Emily was holding.
“I need you to hit these as hard as you can.” She braced the chain between the cuffs against a metal shelf edge. “Quick.”
CLANG!
“That’s it, hit it again.”
CLANG!
The shelf buckled as she did, and the cuffs gleamed, undented.
“Dammit. Again!”
The sound from outside grew louder, and now the thrumming vibration was joined by the sound of something bigger beating at the door. The barricade shuddered under the blows.
“Okay, this isn’t working.” Her mom grimaced. “When she gets in, I’ll lead her up to the belfry and ye leg it.”
“No, I’m not leaving you.”
The sound reached a pitch, and the door and the barricade were smashed open, tumbling them both out of the way.
The Nocturne strode into the room through the wreckage, and Emily gasped. She was transformed, all traces of the beautiful gentlewoman now gone. She resembled one of those big curvy carvings of the old cave goddesses, just with more horrible scary bits. She was twice or perhaps three times the size she had been. Her dress hung in tatters around her, and her body and head were swollen with an inner fire that stretched and blackened her skin, bulking her into a nightmare figure. She glowed like metal heated in a forge, and stunk of iron and blood. Her eyes were a storm of rage and light, and her face was terrible to behold.
The music throbbed and pulsed around her, all modern sophistication gone, just raw animal rhythms that made Emily’s whole head buzz. It was all too possible to picture the awful things that had been done in her name when her music had pounded long ago.
“You thought you could challenge me?” The Nocturne’s voice was deep and raw. “I am greater than you. I am greater than all. I was here first, and I shall be the last thing ever, as the final heartbeat of your ridiculous species fades out. Now bring me my COINS!”
Emily’s mom got to her feet, hands still cuffed, but fists clenched and teeth bared.
“Right,” her mom whispered out of the corner of her mouth. “She’s monologuing. The Older Powers always do that. We get one chance. I’ll jump her, and ye leg it.”
“I said I’m not leaving you!”
“Have you followed me to the heart of Midnight just to have a fight?” Her mom shook her head in wonder. “I want ye out safe.”
“I’m staying. There’s nowhere to go, anyway!”
“Eejit. Can you change?”
Emily strained at the new sort-of muscle she had found within, thinking hare-shaped thoughts, but got nothing but a headache for her trouble.
“No, I’m sorry, I’m too tired.”
“Best keep hold of that wrench, then.”
The Nocturne was still ranting, spitting venom and bile, and working herself into a froth. She was still getting bigger, too. Emily’s mom edged around the room, Emily behind her, keeping the clockwork in the middle between them and the thing.
“I—I did have a plan to get help,” Emily said in a quiet voice. “But I don’t think it’s worked. I’m so sorry. I’m sorry for everything.”
“Never mind. If there’s a chance, love, get down the stairs.” Her mom didn’t turn away from the monstrous thing in front of them, but reached back and squeezed her hand, hard. “Please.”
“Okay.”
The music stopped.
“Enough whispering, animals. It’s time for you to die.”
“I love ye, sweetheart,” her mom said and, grabbing a long iron winding rod leaned against the clockwork stack, she stepped out to confront the Nocturne. “Ah, shut yer trap and get on with it, ye wagon.”
The Nocturne growled and knuckled forward, the music rising up again, one huge arm reaching out toward the tiny form holding an iron bar. Emily burned and froze at the same time. How had they ended up here?
A small but distinct clearing of a tiny throat cut through all the noise. The Nocturne’s heavy head swung around as she sought out the sound. Emily’s mom let out a low whistle in shock. On the floor between them was a tiny, round, prickly, brown figure.
“Hog! How did you … ?”
The Hog did not look back, but shuffled forward, raised his little face, squinted his small eyes, and gave the Nocturne a distinctly old-fashioned look. She leaned over to see.
“And what are … YOU!”
She took a step back. Her music slowed and her chest trembled with emotion. Was she going to stop?
“NO! Not this time! I defy your law. I will be free!”
She drew herself up, the edges of her now licked with a black fire, and raised her club-like hands to smash all before her.
“Not my Hoggins!” screeched Emily, and she leapt and skidded past her mom, sliding on her knees and grabbing the Hog as she did, just before the huge hands crashed down where he had been. She slid past and smashed into the wall, rolling over and crawling away, with the Hog spiked into one hand.
“Ow ow prickly prickly!”
Behind her the monster closed in, hands raised to smash once more. There was a distinct thud as Emily’s mom whanged the Nocturne with her iron bar. It distracted the monster just long enough to turn around and knock Emily’s mom across the room with a backhanded blow, where she hit the floor and didn’t get up.
“Mom!” screamed Emily, and then the Nocturne was upon her.
“You! You enrage me!”
“You’re not the first person to say that,” she said, because her gob would apparently not quit, even now.
“No more.”
The Nocturne raised her terrible fists, and in Emily’s hand the Hog squirmed and moved and popped his head out. There was a heat in her palm and an unusual wriggle from him and—
A big black bike crashed through the glass of one of the clock faces. A familiar face was crouched at the handlebars, and a larger form bent over him, clutching at his waist. The bike skidded to a halt and her dad—her boring, quiet, composting dad—threw himself off it, tucked his shoulder in as he landed, and forward-rolled up onto his feet, drawing a flaming sword, which he held in a professional two-handed grip.
“Get away from her, you beast,” he snarled. He spared a wink for an astonished Emily and said in more normal tones, “Thanks for the rescue party, Puzzle. The Bloody Mary brought them straight to me. Japonica sends her regards.”
The other figure unfolded itself from the bike and stood tall; long dark hair spilling over a tattered white dress. The Library stepped between Emily and the Nocturne, and Emily noticed that as well as newly black hair, she had both slippers on. There was a small sigh from the Hog, and he curled back into her hand.
“You!” The Nocturne staggered back. “But you have no power!”
That wasn’t true. The Library crackled with energy. “Oh, but I do. I do. I am full of boarding schools and faraway trees, and wizards, and heroes, and romance, and talking animals, and poetry.” She was giggling with joy. “I am fizzbanged with energy and the new. I have feasted!”
“But how … ?”
The Library turned her head to Em
ily and, was that a smile?
“A brave child gave me a gift. All of her books from outside. New work, new words, new LIFE.”
She held up glowing hands to the Nocturne.
“She made me strong again, then wrote to tell me of your ill-thought schemes. I am here to make good our vow to save the Night Folk, sister.”
“No! It was your vow to rot in this prison. I will be free!”
“We are free. It is outside that is the trap; here we keep both worlds alive.” The Library’s voice was full of sympathy.
Emily’s dad glanced over at her mom, who was groping her way up from the floor. He whistled sharply in a two-tone little tune, and without taking his eyes off the Nocturne, he reached in his pocket, and lobbed something over his shoulder.
“Maeve! Key!” he shouted.
Emily’s mom’s hands shot up, silver cuffs glinting, and snatched the key from the air. There was a rapid clicking, a clink as the silver hit the floor, then in a sudden expanding shadow her mom exploded up from the floor as a very angry black horse. She reared and snorted her rage. Her red eyes flared with fire as she gained purchase on the floor and galloped across. Her mom braked just before hitting the Nocturne, and reared up at her dad’s side, front hooves lashing the air. Her dad grinned, flame-licked sword held high.
“I told you to get away from her,” he said.
“No, no, no!” Beneath the Nocturne’s skin something roiled and moved, and the music that surrounded them shrieked with discord. The Library took a step forward, too, hands held out, palms glowing white, with a flicker of black on them as words moved beneath her skin. As the Dangerous Deliveries Specialist and the Library advanced, and the Pooka reared and screamed in fury, the Nocturne took first one, then another ponderous step back. As the sword blazed and the Library glowed brighter, the black fire that had flickered over the Nocturne faded, and she shrank back to her smaller size.
“Come, sister, come with me. It’s not too late. We can find a way together now. We do not have to go gently into that good night anymore.” The Library didn’t smile, but her eyes were kind. “Surely you can see that?”
The Nocturne’s face flickered from rage to a sadness so naked it made Emily’s heart hurt.
The Midnight Hour Page 17