I waited. Eventually he nodded, a slight motion I almost missed. ‘The day I stop protecting you, my son, is the day this cliff will crumble beneath my feet.’
I hid the horror his words induced by raising my arms into the air to beckon the clouds bubbling on the horizon. Don’t you dare take control, I hissed at the Gatekeeper, I uninvite you, understood?
Its murmurs rumbled in my chest in time with the thunder, the billowing clouds sucking up the water from the sea, darkening the sky. The temperature plunged, but I felt a furnace within, fuelled by the molten waters of the Lífkelda.
Father stood behind, mumbling – or shouting – I couldn’t tell; the wind roared in my ears, electricity scattering above the water. Once the momentum started, I pushed the storm front inland, avoiding the town as much as possible while encouraging it to dump its full force on the Praetoriani. Lightning lashed out and struck the building three times, and I let the storm go, falling backward into Father’s arms.
‘That should do the trick,’ I muttered.
I opened my eyes. A burly guard with cropped, blond hair came surging towards me. I threw my arms up, ready to defend or attack, but he zipped through me. Of course, I thought as my mind cleared. Father still sheltered my body on the cliff but I was inside the Praetoriani.
‘My computer is down,’ said Kate.
The burly guard came back to the reception desk. ‘Power cut,’ he snarled, plonking himself on the desk and almost knocking over the vase of flowers next to him. Kate leaned back in her chair, staring up at him.
‘I didn’t see anything on the forecast this morning…’
‘Strange, isn’t it? Even for Hellingstead.’
I didn’t have long. The wards protecting the tunnel’s entrance felt like treacle as I slipped through and popped out on the other side. That shouldn’t have been possible, but it confirmed what I’d feared – the Gatekeeper’s magic had bonded to my very soul. Some damage, when the creature left, would be inevitable.
Torches burned pockets through the ghostly glow in the air – a permanent pale dawn – always there during out-of-body trips. I’ve learned since that it seeps down through the branches of Yggdrasil from the realms above, to illuminate the path for the fallen.
Three groups of armed men swarmed from the bowels of the hill, passing through me without so much as a shudder. Someone was shouting, and I couldn’t tell if it came from nearby or far away, as its echo was lost in the labyrinth.
I followed the green paint like street signs, glad I didn’t need to use the lifts. Once I found the prison Menelaus had described, I would be able to project directly into it, back and forth with human cargo, avoiding the tunnels altogether.
And after sinking through seven levels of rock, find it I did.
Men guarded the narrow doorway, secured from the inside. Unlike the other bravos I had crossed, these two acted oblivious to the commotion above, machine guns pointing to the floor. I wondered who would think to alert them, and whether they’d think it necessary.
Squeezing through the door’s half-empty atoms, I found Jenny, huddled in the corner exactly where Menelaus had seen her. The sweet stench of urine pervaded her cell. I started as a rat scurried behind us, before realising it could do me no harm. Jenny hardly reacted. She’s pregnant, how can they keep her in this cesspit? Perhaps she kept it secret. Why hand her captors valuable information they could leverage against her?
As I wrapped my ghostly arms around her, I summoned my body, thankful that the darkness provided such good cover. Seconds later we arrived in Hellingstead Hall. She flailed in my arms, screaming and hitting my face.
Gentle hands tugged her away. She spun to meet her new assailant.
‘Jenny! Jenny, it’s me. Tobias. You’re safe, it’s me!’
As she fell into his chest – great wracking sobs filling the air – I got back to work.
The records say that Hellingstead Hall was used as a military hospital during the great wars, and by the time I’d projected back with the last prisoner, the clock had been turned back once again. The newest arrivals waited in the grand hallway, dumbstruck, as Espen examined them for injuries – and fleas – healing those who needed it and sending them into one of the three downstairs washrooms to clean up. Spare cloths and towels lay piled up on the stairs, my voice catching as I noticed some of Mum’s wardrobe waiting to be worn again for the first time in eleven years.
Toby ran the kitchen, where the first group I’d rescued were huddled at the table, anxious faces gleaming with the first throes of suspicion. Their eyes darted towards the door as I walked in. ‘Hi,’ I said, noting the empty jug of water and plates piling up on the side. ‘I guess you guys are hungry, hey?’
The prisoners, mostly clean and de-ragged, exchanged glances. ‘Yes,’ said Jenny, tucked under Toby’s arm, ‘We have emptied the fridge already.’
I sighed and rubbed my hands together. Far from feeling tired, I was exhilarated from the victory and the magic pouring through my veins. Soon, I would crash hard, but not yet. A crackle effused from my fingers and the air wobbled over the table, a chorus of gasps heralding the appearance of crusty rolls and a vat of butter, a pile of meats, fruits, jams, scones, and…
I laughed as our guests dived in, not caring to wait for Toby to hand out plates and cutlery. Tears bled down one man’s cheeks. ‘I must have died,’ he said, shoving an entire scone, slathered in cream, into his mouth.
The next wave entered the kitchen with Menelaus, soon abandoning his side to join the feast. ‘Watch how much they eat,’ he said over my head to Toby, ‘some of them are near starvation – it’ll make them ill if they have too much.’
I followed Menelaus back into the hall, walking with him to the opposite door that lead into the downstairs sitting room. ‘We still have a problem,’ I said.
He raised one sleek eyebrow. ‘Are you worried they’ll suspect you?’
‘Even if they do, what can they prove? No, I’m talking about Lorenzo.’
‘The blackouts?’ he asked. I had caught him up on the vampire’s missing hours on the ride over. ‘I’ve decided to follow him tonight, Theo, cloaked. Last night, at dinner…’ he said, lowering his head. ‘Lorenzo seemed afraid of Malachi.’
I shrugged. ‘There’s no love lost between them,’ I said, ‘and Malachi is his maker. He can Enthral Lorenzo if he chooses. I’m not sure even my magic can undo the blood bond without killing them both.’
Menelaus nodded as Father approached. ‘Theo,’ he said, ‘Toby and I will care for these men and women. You must rest after your exertions.’
‘I don’t need you to tell me that,’ I said, arms folded. ‘I was just leaving.’
‘And the solstice? You will not abandon our gods because of our “feud”?’
‘Sunday, I know. A week’s time.’ Glancing over at the stragglers, I realised I’d have to check in before the trial – with Michele – to see what information the prisoners had on their interrogators. ‘We’ll see.’
Meanwhile, there was an arsenal to prepare; Frigg was one thing, but the Black Widow wanted Hellingstead as her battleground, and I needed to ensure I could force her back off the field. A new family motto popped into my head: a Clemensen must always be prepared. I knew I should’ve joined the Scouts.
‘What are you going to do with the prisoners?’ I asked, pulling on my cloak, which I’d hung up near the door.
Father straightened, a fizzle of magic popping over his skin. Ex-Gatekeeper or not, his marrow was a soup of Northern power, and he exhibited it now, a challenge to the Guardian in our midst. ‘That’s simple,’ he said, his stare blue fire, ‘I will arm them, and they will have their vengeance.’
31
Hills of Blood
Menelaus didn’t dare return to the HQ.
Julian rang him late afternoon. He sounded strained, wary even. Did he suspect Menelaus’s involvement in the liberation of the prisoners? ‘Are you okay, Laus?’
‘Yes,’ he said cautiously, and
his smartphone felt like a spy in his hand, ‘I’m catching up on some errands. Then I’ll check in with my wards.’
Was that a crackle on the line? Menelaus walked around his flat, opening doors with care and peering into each room. The thought occurred that cameras might be in his flat, watching his suspicious movements. He stifled a curse, irritated by his paranoia and yet also defiant. ‘I’ve lost my watch,’ he said, as if he was being absent-minded, and not really a double agent afraid of discovery and retribution.
‘Not the one I gave you for your twenty-first?’
Menelaus paused, shutting the bathroom door. ‘Yes, that one,’ he said.
Julian had given him a crossbow, not a watch. An event he remembered fondly six years later. He vowed to dig it out and store it by his bed; he had no intention of disappearing like Guillaume. ‘Everything okay at HQ?’ he asked, feigning a casual air.
‘Powercut. Coastal storms are unpredictable sometimes. We’re back up and running now.’ Julian paused and Menelaus heard the clink of china. ‘Don’t forget to write your report on the Clemensen boy. His movements and such-like. You’ll be questioned during the trial.’
‘Maybe I should retire afterwards. Stick to being a professor.’ He dropped onto the sofa. At least my students don’t torture people. ‘The pay’s better too.’
Julian laughed. ‘Yes, once our debts are settled, perhaps we should move on. Unfortunately, I have work to do. Enjoy the summer holidays.’
Menelaus laid on the sofa for ten minutes, staring at the ceiling. Then he rose, ate, showered, and prepared his camouflage clothes. He also wore his chain mail – another gift – and strapped on a spare baton. God knows what Lorenzo has been up to, he thought. This time, he would be ready for another Toby, or whoever else was out there.
Ava adjusted the buttons of her blood-red cardigan and grinned so hard her cheeks ached, as the first customer in Crystal Clear that afternoon approached the counter. A slight teenage girl, buying a pack of novelty tarot cards. Belle hovered nearby as Ava cracked the till’s code, counting out the change required. Her hands trembled as she placed the tarot in the bespoke paper bag, with its swirl of symbols, so she stuffed her hands into the pocket of her dress in case her boss noticed.
‘You weren’t so nervous during your interview,’ Belle said once the girl had left the shop. ‘Anyone would think I’d asked you to assassinate the Prime Minister.’
Ava blushed. ‘It’s been a peculiar week – or two. I…’ She gazed into Belle’s warm face, and something about her light brown complexion and azure eyes cajoled her into opening up. After all, this woman did read people’s fortunes for a living. ‘My gift has grown somewhat unexpectedly,’ Ava said, ‘and I’m struggling with it.’
‘Ah. And it’s thrown you?’
‘I feel like a capsizing ship,’ Ava confessed. ‘Is the Titanic a bit too much of a stretch?’ Belle laughed but didn’t interrupt. ‘Visions used to be the wind in my sails, now they’re so powerful they’re threatening to blow me off course altogether.’
‘You’re scared.’ It wasn’t a question.
Ava nodded. ‘Terrified. What if I see something I don’t want to and can’t stop it? How do I cope with that?’
‘What brought about this change?’
Ava picked the thread of her cardigan, considering how to broach the subject without revealing too much. She hadn’t dared ask Belle if she was Pneuma, or just a sensitive sapien, when she couldn’t believe she even thought in those terms. Theo had a lot to answer for. ‘I think maybe love,’ she said, choosing a cautious approach.
‘And with love comes the prospect of loss.’ Belle’s blue dress hugged her generous hips, its patterns shimmering in the warm light above the counter. Her hands betrayed her age most as she played with the amber beads about her neck. ‘Is your boyfriend understanding of your gifts?’
Ava almost laughed. I should say so, when he’s the source of all magic. That, and hadn’t she always dreaded telling her various ill-fated suitors the truth? And somehow, she’d stumbled into this relationship and found Theo’s world – despite the danger lurking there – liberating. ‘He’s very understanding. His family is quite well-known in some circles.’
It wasn’t name dropping; she needed a way to test the water before she risked confiding in Belle. If Belle knew about Pneuma, she’d know about the Clemensens. ‘Oh?’ asked Belle, taking the bait.
‘Theo Clemensen.’
The bell dangled over the shop door as a young woman came in with her child – Ava guessed about ten – looking for a dreamcatcher to help the boy deal with nightmares. ‘It’s all psychological, right?’ the woman whispered as she paid, like it was all some conspiracy. ‘Like a placebo?’
Ava nodded. ‘Whatever works,’ she said.
Once the shop cleared, Belle squeezed Ava’s shoulder. ‘I think you and I move in the same circles,’ she said. ‘Come out back, I have something you need to see.’
For a split second Ava panicked, recalling her phone call with Theo, who’d warned her to be cautious. Who was to say Belle wasn’t working for the Praetoriani? As she understood, they often moon- or day-lighted to deflect suspicion from themselves. Don’t be silly, she thought, I’ve been out back before during my interview. It’s just a reading room.
‘What do you want to show me?’
Belle gestured toward the round table, her tarot pack faced down in its centre. The face of the Green Man stared at her from the wood. Seated, she waited for Belle, who disappeared from the room, returning moments later.
‘You’re not Pneuma,’ Belle said. Her frankness startled Ava. ‘Relax, I can tell from your aura how powerful your gifts are. There’s a direct bolt from your third eye right up into the ceiling. Whoever is sending you the visions, my girl, is divine.’
She opened her mouth to answer but saw no point in refuting Belle’s assumption. It was true, after all. ‘What’s that in your hands?’
‘Sweetness, it’s a newspaper. Your boyfriend – may I say you have good taste? – is big news.’
‘Is he? But—’
‘He has been hidden by Espen Clemensen since Isobel’s tragic demise, I know.’ She shook her head. ‘We understand why Espen barricaded his son behind blood magic, but the Pneuma community love a good fairy-tale. Keeping the boy locked away only stoked the fire of mystery. In fact, he’s somewhat of a media darling.’
Ava blinked. ‘Really?’
‘I am as gay as the spring dawn, sweetness, and even I can see his appeal. To us, he is a royal orphan, a Viking prince about to lose his crown to the mob.’
‘The mob in this instance being the Praetoriani?’
Belle leaned in, exposing the cleft of her cleavage. She really did have curves in all the right places. Ava met her eyes. ‘No one believes in this stage show, this mockery of a trial. It’s a farce and nothing more than a power play. And I’ll tell you why, Ava. It’s because they are afraid. It’s because they know it’s time. The King fears the young Prince and will stop at nothing to slay him, metaphorically or not. Who can be sure?’
‘It does sound like a fairy-tale, doesn’t it? Or a warped bible story.’
‘And you, sweetness, are the prophet. Face the divine winds without fear and you might find land soon enough to stop us all from drowning.’ Belle unrolled the newspaper. It rustled as she placed it in Ava’s hands.
Solem Umbra.
‘It means the sun’s shadow,’ explained Belle. ‘Because we’ll always tail our Imperi Ducis until we are sure of our freedom.’
Ava read furiously. ‘And the Praetoriani let you print this?’
‘Goddess no, sweetness. The thing you hold is totally, utterly illegal.’
The paper seemed to scratch against her palms. ‘I don’t think Theo has any idea people are rooting for him,’ Ava said, astonished. ‘Why haven’t you contacted him?’
‘Those blood wards I mentioned…’
‘But he’s not at Hellingstead Hall anymore.’
&
nbsp; Belle sighed. ‘Penny Nocenti has proven as protective as Espen. She has suppressed several attempts to approach him.’
‘But why? If you’re willing to help?’
‘It’s complicated, sweetness. The community is divided into different factions, allied to varying divine powers and ideas about how to deal with the threat. We must tread carefully if we wish to avoid civil war among our own kind.’
Ava set the paper down. ‘Why can’t anything be simple?’
Belle pressed her lips together, accentuating the thread-lines around her mouth. She was considering something. At last, she turned over Ava’s palm, and circling it with her finger, said, ‘This is no time for you to play shop for sapiens, Ava. Meet with our leaders on behalf of Theo. Unite us into one voice, one power, with the strength to fight the storm that looms on the horizon.’
Frigg’s prophecy. It hung over her head, a scythe ready to swing in a heartbeat. I must do something. If I fail, at least I tried. ‘Tonight,’ Ava said, ‘arrange it tonight, before I lose my nerve.’
Menelaus had been observing the comings and goings at St. Michael’s for hours. Lorenzo was stowed away in the tower with Raphael, according to a tip-off from Theo, but Menelaus was determined to get to the bottom of this.
He’d already hidden tracking devices on both Penny and Malachi’s cars, aided by the scent-mask he’d recreated using his own half-vampire blood – thank God he’d watched Rachel do it in the lab last time – and his reclaimed invisibility.
The hour before midnight, the priestess and his vampire ‘brother’ left the church together. Menelaus followed, watching out for breakable twigs and crunchy gravel. The ground was wet from the storm, and light drizzle, though miserable, muffled his movements.
The pair drove off in separate vehicles. Menelaus tried not to groan. What if they went in opposite directions? Who would he follow? He had time. On the way back to his 4x4, stashed in woodland not far from the coastal road, he watched the GPS on his phone.
The Descendants of Thor Trilogy Boxset: Forged in Blood and Lightning; Norns of Fate; Wrath of Aten Page 57