by Ben Jeapes
Back in the cathedral in that other place, as it called out to him, the Knowledge had seemed to be everything that was pure and noble and right. But the thief who had taken the Knowledge had used it to murder children and burn down St Ossie’s. Ted made himself believe it: the Knowledge was his enemy.
But still it sang to him, even as Zoe carried on speaking. And so, still listening, still paying close attention, he made himself think of something else he might want. Anything. What? And he didn’t have far to look.
Moonlight rippled over her with ever-changing shades of light and dark. Her profile as she moved through the liquid light was ... was ... He tried to think of the right word. Something poetic, something reflective of her dignity and uniqueness; something that wasn’t I would so like to do it with her, which was one hundred per cent true but nothing like what he wanted to say. For the first time ever he wished he wasn’t quite so familiar with images of naked women. They clouded the mind and got in the way of all the thoughts he would have liked to express.
“... So after the war the surviving magicians decided they would lock the Knowledge up away from prying minds. No one would be able to possess it all again. So they found a special place to put the Knowledge in, so secure that no one was going to stumble on it by accident–”
Anyway, Ted realised suddenly, doing it with Zoe lay the other side of a vast gulf that he knew he hadn’t even begun to cross. His body was doing what it generally did in the presence of a fit female but (to his surprise) he also found he didn’t want to lay a finger on her. He just felt he could walk at her side, down moonlit roads, wanting but not doing, forever. It was a brand new experience.
“... and just in case any existing magicians found it too tempting they put in place certain security precautions–”
They had reached the suburbs. Pavements and parked cars replaced the bushes and verges of the road. They walked past houses that were dull blocks, windows set like a blank and hostile face against intruders.
“… it was impossible, like almost physically impossible, for a human being to approach. Unless. You take someone and, like, hand craft them, so that certain barriers in the mind just … aren’t there. The Knowledge would have nothing to push against … Ted?”
Ted had stopped walking. She had gone on a few paces before realising. Different facts fell into new patterns of understanding inside him and suddenly he wanted to be sick.
“This person … this thief …” he began. He couldn’t go on.
“I’d call them a key, not a thief, but what about them?”
Not a thief … The tiniest, near-homeopathic level of reassurance, but it let him continue.
“This key … what would they be like in real life? I mean, out here in the real world?”
“Well–”
“Could the things that are missing inside them, these missing barriers, these things that aren’t there in their head, mean they take a slightly less important view of ... um … ownership? Mine and thine? I mean, could one effect of this treatment be to turn the key, not a thief, the key into a … someone who … a kleptomaniac, right?” He swallowed. He very rarely said the k-word. It came out a bit like Barry saying ‘homosexual’, cramming multiple syllables into as short a space of time as possible. “I mean, a compulsive thief, someone who … who casually walks off without thinking about stuff … I mean, even really stupid stuff like … like calculators, okay?” He felt his voice start to rise. He had been so determined to be cool about this, not to let it get to him, but the more he spoke, the more he felt himself losing his grip on his self-possession. Yet he couldn’t stop talking. The words just came tumbling out, and he had a horrible feeling that round about the time his words disappeared into high pitched inaudibility, he would be crying. “Someone who ends up with a formal caution, and bloody nearly gets thrown out of school, and loses all his friends, and–”
“Oh, Ted–”
She moved to stand in front of him and took his hands. He looked at her dry-eyed, though his head was moving back and forth as he struggled to swallow and hold back the feelings that he wanted to vent.
“Oh, Ted, sweetheart, I didn’t realise, she didn’t say– Oh, Ted–”
She pulled him into a gentle hug. He stood absolutely rigid, trembling against her. One hand gently caressed the back of his head as he pressed his face into her coat.
A car had been approaching. It slowed to a crawl next to them.
“Get a room!”
It accelerated away with a roar and a spurt of gravel. He felt her laugh; a grim, unamused chuckle. They pulled apart and gazed at each other.
“Since you ask … Yes. I’d say that’s exactly what the key might be like out here in the real world.”
Ted wiped his nose with the back of his hand. Self-control ruled. No tears.
“Right,” he mumbled, and carried on walking. After a moment she fell in beside him. “So, what can this guy do with what he took?”
She gave it another moment, then took the hint from what he hoped was a dispassionate, matter of fact tone.
“He can make his perception into reality,” she replied in the same level voice. “He can will an effect, and where it’s possible, where there’s energy for the process, the world adjusts to accommodate it.”
“You mean, he’s like a god?”
And how cool would that be? murmured a voice in his head. To have root privileges for the entire world?
Murdered children. Murdered children.
“That’d be one word for it.” The prospect was all the more horrifying for Zoe’s matter-of-fact way of speaking. “Though I don’t think a god would be limited by energy. He’s only human and his mind has all the human limitations. At first he’ll only be able to will small things with the right discipline. But as he grows more practised, he’ll be able to will more and more effects. His power will grow ... what’s the word? If you put it on a graph it wouldn’t a straight line, it would be a curve that gets steeper and steeper–”
“Exponential.”
“Then his power will grow exponentially. Brainwashing that poor guy at the hospice, making him burn it down, clouding everyone’s mind so no one noticed – that was him as a clueless beginner.”
Ted thought about it.
“Shit.”
“Nicely put. I can tell you’re doing English A-level–”
They reached the main road into town and crossed over the busy, complex junction with not another car to be seen. Ten minutes after that, three quarters of an hour after leaving the hospice, they reached Henderson Close.
They stopped and looked at each other in the moonlight. Zoe’s full and frank explanation still rang in his ears.
“So you see why–” she said.
“Yeah.” He was letting it sit on top of his mind and slowly sink in. He had already absorbed enough to get the gist. Except for ... “No. If this is so important – why’s it just us? Why doesn’t your friend send a whole army to crawl all over Salisbury and stop the guy?”
“An army would be noticed. The guardians can stop him quietly.”
“Right.” Ted thought sceptically of Malcolm’s little group. Hell, Zoe worked for Malcolm too. Was she really going with the witch’s mighty warrior shtick? “Whatever. Come on.”
They walked up Henderson Close to no. 34.
Mr Furry sauntered down the drive to greet them, his tail casually rising to the vertical. Ted reached down to pet him and the cat rose up on his hind legs to butt his head against Ted’s hand. Mr Furry loved meeting people who were up at feline-appropriate hours. New Year’s Eve was usually the only time it happened.
“Hi, puss. Seen any evil magicians?” Ted murmured. Mr Furry meowed, which Ted interpreted as ‘No, and do you have any food about your person?’
Zoe stood at the end of the drive and scanned the front of the house as if she were seeing it for the first time.
“You have been here before,” Ted reminded her. He picked the cat up and felt with his free hand
for his keys in his pocket. When he opened the front door and reached in to turn on the switch, a rectangle of light splashed down the driveway to her feet. “Coming?”
“She was checking it out for us,” Zoe said as she came forward. “Just in case.”
“Big of her.” He pushed the door closed with a bang and lightly dropped Mr Furry. “But everyone else is in Rome at the moment. God, I’m starving. I’m going to make a sandwich.” He looked her up and down, and grinned. It was the first time he had seen her in a proper light since the fire. Her hair looked like a rat’s nest and her face was smudged. He wondered what he looked like to her. “Look, just make yourself comfortable. Can I get you anything before we get down to business?”
“No, thank you. I’d just like to get on with it. Ted, if everyone’s in Rome, who are the people upstairs?”
“Upstairs?” Ted paused, halfway into the kitchen. “There’s no one upstairs.”
“Beg to differ,” said a voice from the dark landing, and the stair light came on.
Ted squinted up in horror. Recognition confirmed against his will what the sound of the voice had already told him. Oh no. Of all the crappiest possible luck ...
Barry sauntered slowly down, hands in the pockets of his dressing gown. He looked Zoe up and down and recoiled.
“Good Lord. Well, you, young lady, can just go straight back to wherever he got you from. Sorry you won’t be–” He pulled his hands out so he could wrap inverted commas round the phrase with his fingers. “... ‘Getting down to business’. You’ll just have to ‘get on with it’ some other time.”
Zoe looked blank.
“I beg your pardon?”
“Beg all you like–”
Furious embarrassment flushed across Ted’s face.
“Hey! She’s not– I wouldn’t–”
“Ted?” If Barry’s voice was the last Ted wanted to hear, the new voice from upstairs was the lastest plus one.
“Oh, shizzle,” he whispered through clenched teeth, and forced a smile. “Hi, Mum.”
“Darling, what are you doing here in the middle of the night?” She came trotting down the stairs, still tying the cord of her gown, and she ignored Zoe so totally that Ted had to look to make sure she hadn’t just vanished. “Your text said you’d be at St Ossie’s.”
“What are you doing here?” Ted countered as she pecked him on the cheek.
“Italy’s about to go on strike,” Barry said with feeling. “It was leave early or be trapped until next week. We were going to text you in the morning.”
“We didn’t want to disturb you, sweetheart. Not when you were looking after Robert.”
“Of course, if we’d known you were wide awake anyway–” Barry shot another look at Zoe. She rolled her eyes.
“Mr Worth, your stepson’s a perfect gent and he wouldn’t dream of it.”
Only the first half of that sentence was correct, Ted thought, but if it was what she wanted to believe ... His mum finally noticed that they had a visitor at an unusual time of day.
“No offence, but who are you and–” She sniffed the air for a moment. “Ted, have you been smoking again?”
It hadn’t occurred to Ted but he probably reeked of burning building, and with that, he realised what he needed to tell her. He shot Zoe a glance and his mum must have mistaken it for guilt. She drew herself up.
“Sweetheart, what exactly is happening? And who is this girl?”
‘This girl’ smiled sweetly and held out her hand, which Ted’s mum automatically took.
“Hi, I’m Zoe. I’m Ted’s manager at the shop. I thought I should see he gets home safely.”
Both parents shot her an identical puzzled look and drew a breath to ask the next, logical question. Ted’s mum got there first.
“Why would he need to get home safely?”
Ted gritted his teeth and felt like the world’s worst heel for what he was about to do.
“She means,” he said, “what with the hospice burning down–”
The puzzled look on his mother’s face was wiped away.
“What?”
“Fire engines and everything. It’s been evacuated. It’ll probably be on the news first thing.” He looked her remorselessly in the eye. Her face was a mask of horror and her head shook slightly from side to side. Her lips began to form the word ‘Robert’.
“And before that, someone took Robs. He wasn’t there. His bed was empty when I woke up. I told the police about it and they’re putting a bulletin out–”
“Barry!” She spun away. “We are going to St Ossie’s right now.”
“But–” He looked astonished. “You believed all that?”
“Ted is not a liar,” she said through clenched teeth.
Barry didn’t answer that but his eyes were eloquent.
“We’ll call, first,” he said. “Just in case.”
He locked eyes with Ted as he picked up the phone. Ted innocently returned the gaze, relishing the experience of being absolutely in the right and able to prove it.
They all heard the three-note whistle and the recorded voice. “Sorry. The number you have dialled is unobtainable. Please try later-”
“Call the police,” Ted suggested. “Ask to speak to Inspector Blake.”
His mum was already halfway back up the stairs.
“We are going,” she announced over her shoulder. Her voice trembled on the edge of a scream and it tore at Ted’s heart. “Now.”
“We?” Barry called after her. “And leave Ted with–” He waved a hand vaguely at Ted and Zoe.
“Barry,” Ted said wearily, “if I tried anything she’d pull my arm off. Just go.”
Barry dithered for a moment longer but finally he threw his hands up in exasperation and followed after Ted’s mum.
“Is Ted here?” A new voice was added to the mix. Ted grinned and peered up the stairs. Sarah was on tiptoes as she peeked over the landing rail.
“Hi, Ugly!” He waved and she waved back.
“Hi, Zits!”
“Go back to bed, Sarah,” Barry muttered.
“Is Ted in trouble?” she asked brightly.
“The jury’s out, sweetheart. Go back to bed.”
“Aww-w-w ...!”
Ted and Zoe were left downstairs, looking at each other.
“You’re not a bad wizard yourself, Mr Gorse,” Zoe murmured.
“Huh?”
“You desired an effect, i.e. getting rid of your parents, and you achieved it very nicely.”
Oh God, not this again. He pulled a face and turned back to the kitchen.
“Sure I can’t get you anything?” he asked.
Five minutes later, his mum and Barry were fully dressed and back downstairs. Ted’s mum gave him a quick kiss and hurried out through the front door. Barry waited a moment longer. He looked from Ted, to outside, and back to Ted again; then he strode forward and jabbed a finger almost into Ted’s face.
“Just remember there is a child in the house!” he hissed. Then he was gone, slamming the door behind him.
“Thank God he’s gone.” Ted sat at the hall table and opened the phone book. Zoe stood next to him, leaning back against the wall as he started to leaf through it.
“What a lovely man.”
“Hmm.”
She grinned. “Anyway, apparently your mum would kill you. You said.”
“Eh?” Ted glanced up, blushed and looked quickly back at the book. “Oh. Er.”
“Though if you’re worried about what your mum thinks of your sex life then you’re probably too young to have one.”
Ted flicked through the pages. How long was this alphabet?
“S’pose,” he said through clenched teeth. Thank God, he’d got to J. He found the first Jackson, M. and punched in the number. “But you’re the one who said we were going to do it, not me.”
“I didn’t know she’d take that attitude, did I?” She ruffled his hair and he knocked her hand away as the other end started to ring. “Anyway, I
wouldn’t pull your arm off.”
The ringing stopped with a click. Someone had answered.
“I might pull your–”
“Hello!” Ted said far too loudly. He waved her to silence but she had already shut up, eyes bright with hope. “Um, am I speaking to Malcolm Jackson of the Agora Bookshop? ... No ... Sorry, wrong numb- ... Sorry? Yes, I know what time it is, thanks ... yes, ’kay’bye.”
He hung up and breathed out. “Well, it wasn’t going to be the first, was it?” He ran his finger down the page again to get the second Jackson, M.
Five minutes later he sat back and closed the book with a thump. “Arse! He must be ex-directory.”
Zoe drew her breath through her teeth.
“Ted, we have to find him. We have to.”
“I know, I know.” A treacherous little voice inside asked if he really wanted to make an enemy of the man who could do the kind of things that the thief could. Just how miserable could this man make his life? Of course I don’t want to, he shot back at it, but how much choice did he have? Even if they hadn’t had their conversation on the walk back from the hospice – well, there was an arsonist and murderer out there somewhere. His mind still cringed from the possibility of what might have happened: if Zoe hadn’t got to him at St Ossie’s in time; if there hadn’t been an automatic connection to the fire station; if ...
Ted frowned. Something niggled at the back of his mind.
“Look, if Malcolm’s one of these guardian thingies, shouldn’t there be some ... you know, some automatic alarm to activate them?”
She sighed. “She thinks the thief got to them, somehow. You know. Like, disabled the alarm.”
That was it. Something had come to mind. He took half a second to study it, consider it and reject it, and another half second to consider the alternatives. With a full second of contemplation, Zoe noticed that he was onto something.
“Yeah?” she said eagerly.
“Yeah.” Malcolm wouldn’t thank him for it but he really couldn’t think of another way. He sat back with his hands behind his head and grinned up at her. “Want to come and get Malcolm?”
Chapter 17
“How do I get sound on this thing?”