by Nick Moseley
Am I really this indecisive? he thought. I’m not sure.
Reflecting the shift in his mood, the afternoon wasn’t as productive as the morning. While he didn’t slip back into the narcoleptic zombie status of the previous day, neither did he maintain his earlier momentum. Fortunately Barry gave up on his attempts to provoke him and sat in a sullen silence instead. It was welcome for the most part but served as another reminder that the old days were gone. The job was the same; his colleagues were the same; Trev himself had changed.
When closing time came around Trev found a creeping apprehension pressing in on his thoughts. He hadn’t been struck by any bolts of inspiration during his working day. It was beginning to look like he’d walk into Deacon’s office without the first clue of what he wanted, which would be embarrassing. He owed the Custodians a clear, reasoned and confident decision… but where was he going to get one at this time of night?
The sky was cloudless and the temperature had plunged once the sun went down. Trev shrugged himself into his Rodney coat and crunched along the pavement, which was in danger of re-freezing. Cars swished past him as the town centre emptied itself of retail and office workers. It was Friday evening, so they’d soon be replaced with bar staff, bouncers and those hardy souls for whom sub-zero temperatures were no obstacle to a night out. On any other weekend Trev might’ve been one of them. Not tonight. Though the odds were he’d need a stiff drink by the time it was all over.
He wondered what he’d say to Granddad. He wasn’t looking forward to being lectured, but when he considered all that the old boy had done for him it was the very least he could do to hear him out. Granddad had been patient and supportive when Trev’s behaviour often hadn’t merited it. With Bad Trev’s influence temporarily muted, he was forced into the uncomfortable realisation that he had, some might have said, in the light of recent events, if he was being completely honest, been a bit of a cock.
He turned into Granddad’s street. Lost as he was in a haze of vague self-recrimination, he was almost at the house when he noticed something was amiss. His subconscious pinged him an alert and his head snapped up, eyes searching for the anomaly.
Granddad’s car wasn’t there. He always parked in the same space outside his house. Always. And it wasn’t as if someone else had taken it, because it stood empty. If the car wasn’t there, it was because Granddad was out in it somewhere. So why had he asked Trev to come round if he was going to be out?
There are any number of reasons for him not being here, said the rational, sensible part of Trev’s brain.
If he wasn’t going to be here he’d have let me know before he went out, shot back the cynical, paranoid part, which was much more developed and had a tendency to push the rational part into puddles and steal its lunch money.
Trev checked his phone just in case he’d missed a call. He hadn’t. One nil to Paranoid Trev. There were still other options to explain the situation, though, and Rational Trev itemised a few for him: Granddad had expected to be back on time but was stuck in traffic (he wasn’t the type to use a mobile phone while he was in the car); some sort of emergency had come up and he hadn’t time to call Trev before rushing out; and he’d loaned his car to someone.
Trev didn’t rate any of these as very likely, but he was prepared to give them the benefit of the doubt…
…until he noticed Granddad’s front door was ajar.
He was on full alert now. If Granddad was habitual about his choice of parking space, he was pathological about locking his doors and windows. With all the rare and valuable books lining the walls of his lounge-slash-study, he didn’t take any chances.
Trev dropped a hand into his pocket. He still had Granddad’s dagger, which was on a semi-permanent loan to him. Trev brought it out, though he didn’t activate it. He contemplated calling the police or the Custodians and waiting for backup, before dismissing the idea. If Granddad was in trouble inside, then Trev had to go in to help.
He pushed on the door. It swung open on well-oiled hinges. Trev stood on the front step for a moment, listening. The house was silent. Looking along the darkened hallway, he could see a light on in the lounge. Trev opened his mouth to call out, then changed his mind. Agatha and Oscar would both have responded to his presence and come to investigate by now, if they were able to. Their absence was another cause for concern.
Steeling himself, he crept along the hallway. There was an atmosphere in the house, something he couldn’t pin down. He’d never felt unsettled in Granddad’s house before; it had always been a sanctuary of sorts for him. Now, it felt like some creepy haunted mansion.
He reached the lounge and peered around the door. The lamp on Granddad’s desk was on and a large book lay open under it. Edging closer, Trev saw a teacup on the desk. It was half full and stone cold. Whatever had happened to cause Granddad to leave, it had clearly been sudden.
Trev’s phone buzzed in his pocket. He jumped halfway to the ceiling. Getting a grip on himself, he fumbled the thing into his hand. The screen said GRANDDAD (MOBILE).
Relief swept over him. He was going to get an explanation. He answered the call.
‘I’m at yours, what’s going on? You left your front door open.’
A voice replied.
It wasn’t Granddad’s voice.
‘Hello, boy,’ said Jack Smith.
Thirty-Eight
The blood drained from Trev’s face.
‘Where is he?’ he growled.
‘Safe enough, don’t you worry,’ said Smith.
‘What do you want?’
‘You know what I want, boy. The Key.’
‘I don’t have it.’
‘Don’t you?’ said Smith. ‘Now that is a pity.’
‘Let him go.’
‘No, I don’t think so.’ Smith sounded thoughtful. ‘I have a bargain for you. Find the Key and bring it to me by… shall we say the witching hour? Just for the sake of drama. Do that, and I’ll let the old man go.’
‘I told you, I don’t have the Key. I don’t know where it is.’
‘Ah, but you know who has it, don’t you?’
Caught off guard, Trev hesitated.
‘I thought as much.’ Smith sounded so pleased with himself, Trev had to resist a sudden urge to throw his phone against the wall.
‘There’s no chance of me getting it by midnight,’ Trev ground out. ‘I need more time.’
‘No, you just have to work more quickly,’ Smith said. ‘I’m not bartering with you, boy. Midnight.’
‘And if I don’t get it by then?’
‘Well, then I kill dear old Bernard,’ said Smith, as if that was obvious. In fairness, the threat had been heavily implied.
‘You do that, and I’ll find you,’ said Trev. His voice had dropped, his fear for Granddad’s safety being overrun by his anger at Smith. ‘Even if it takes me the rest of my life. I’ll hunt you down. I don’t care who your masters are. They won’t be able to protect you.’
‘They aren’t my masters, boy,’ snapped Smith. The suggestion that he was someone else’s puppet appeared to have had more effect on him than Trev’s threats. ‘They weren’t before, and they bloody well aren’t now.’
‘Bollocks,’ said Trev. ‘You’re running around Brackenford doing their bidding.’
‘No longer.’ Smith sounded irritated now. ‘They didn’t tell me what the Key was. Now I know. Something that can make a group of Custodians disappear from inside a locked house… now, I think that’s worth more to me that what they were offering.’
Oh shit, he’s gone rogue, Trev thought.
‘Those aren’t the sort of people to screw over,’ he said. ‘They’ll probably kill you before I do.’
‘People have been trying to kill me for hundreds of years, boy,’ Smith replied. ‘I barely notice them these days.’
‘Let me speak to Granddad,’ Trev said. The previous topic wasn’t getting them anywhere. ‘I want to know he’s still alive.’
‘Your lack of trust pa
ins me, it does,’ said Smith, with a theatrical sigh. ‘Very well.’
There was a rustling sound and then Trev heard Granddad’s voice. It was weak, but with an undercurrent of defiance.
‘Don’t do anything this madman tells you,’ the old man said. ‘Don’t get him the Key. Don’t come–’
‘He likes to talk, doesn’t he?’ said Smith, coming back on the line. ‘We can sit here and chat while we wait for you to bring me the Key.’
‘Where am I meeting you?’ said Trev, simultaneously relieved to hear Granddad’s voice and terrified that he was at Smith’s mercy.
‘You were at Highvale Wood this week, weren’t you?’ said Smith. ‘Went to a party, I hear. Didn’t send me an invite though. Meet me there. Midnight.’
‘All right,’ said Trev.
‘Good boy,’ Smith replied. ‘And come alone, do you hear? No turning up with a bunch of Custodians. I’ll know if you do. And the old feller will die. Understand?’
‘Yes.’
‘Better make a start then.’ Smith ended the call.
‘Oh, I am completely buggered,’ Trev whispered. He slumped into Granddad’s big leather chair and put his head in his hands.
‘Hey,’ said a faint voice.
Trev looked up. Oscar was crawling into the room. The kitten’s movement was uncoordinated, his legs working jerkily. Trev crossed the room and crouched next to him.
‘What happened?’
‘Smith did, what do you think?’ Oscar collapsed onto his side and lay there panting.
‘I know that. I meant, what’s he done to you?’
‘The lamp,’ Oscar said. ‘Paralysed me. Agatha and I tried to hold him off long enough for Bernard to get out of the kitchen door. Couldn’t do it.’
The thought of a kitten and a ghost facing down an undead psychopath was so bizarre Trev almost laughed.
‘What happened to Agatha?’ he asked.
‘She threw her aura at Smith while yelling a list of Biblical insults,’ said Oscar. ‘She looked pretty badass, I’ve got to say. Smith was gobsmacked for a moment. Unfortunately it wasn’t enough to stop him. He’s like the Terminator, but with really bad skin. His lamp lit up and Bernard and I were paralysed. Agatha just vanished. I don’t know where she went.’
‘I am here,’ Agatha said, appearing in the doorway.
‘Please stop doing that,’ said Trev, lying on his back. Being startled while crouching was incompatible with staying upright.
‘Good to see you’re all right,’ said Oscar. He stretched. ‘I’m getting the feeling back in my limbs now but it’s slow going. Where did Smith send you?’
‘The power of his lamp broke my connection to this place,’ Agatha explained. ‘I found myself at George’s grave. I could not return until now.’
George was Agatha’s husband. He’d been killed protecting her, for which she’d never forgiven herself. Even after all those years, she still made regular visits to his grave. Granddad took fresh flowers on her behalf whenever he could.
‘I spoke to Smith,’ Trev said. ‘Granddad’s still alive, but to keep him that way I’ve got to take the Key to Highvale Wood at midnight.’
‘Midnight?’ said Oscar. ‘Doesn’t that bloke have even a shred of originality?’
‘Obviously not,’ said Trev, ‘but that’s not the big problem. I don’t have the Key.’
‘Ezekiel Barker has it,’ said Agatha.
‘Yeah.’
‘Do we know where he is?’ asked Oscar.
Trev shrugged. ‘No, but I’ve got Sarah’s phone number so we can probably reach him. Whether he’ll let us have the Key, though…’
‘We cannot give the Key to Smith,’ said Agatha. ‘Bernard would not want us to. It is far too dangerous.’
‘So we just sit on our hands and let him kill Granddad?’ said Trev. ‘Bollocks to that.’
‘That is not what I am suggesting,’ said Agatha, scowling at Trev’s language. ‘We must take this opportunity to defeat Smith, not bargain with him.’
‘I can’t turn up without the Key,’ Trev argued. ‘If that happens Granddad dies. I agree we can’t let Smith walk away, but I don’t see how we stop him and keep Granddad alive.’
‘We must involve the Custodians,’ said Agatha.
‘Can’t do that,’ said Trev. ‘He told me to go alone.’
‘Come on mate, you’re not that stupid,’ said Oscar. ‘He’s not seriously expecting you to do that. He’ll be planning on you having backup. You can bet he’ll have his own, too. A whole pack of barghests, or worse.’
‘But who can I take?’ said Trev. ‘We reckon he’s got a contact inside the Custodians, right? So if they mobilise to come after him he’ll know about it.’
‘There has to be a way around it,’ said Oscar. ‘First thing you have to do is speak to Deacon. You can’t leave him in the dark about this. He’s as keen to take Smith down as anyone, and we’re talking about a bloke who isn’t short of enemies. If you threw a stone in any random town centre you’d probably hit about five people who hate Jack Smith.’
A tiny spark of an idea flickered somewhere in the depths of Trev’s brain.
‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘I need to call him. And a few other people as well.’
By the time he got through to Deacon, Trev felt like he’d already wasted half the time Smith had given him on phone calls. His ear was getting sore and there was a knot of fear and tension sitting on his chest like an angry tumour, but at least his half-arsed plan was now perhaps three-quarters-arsed. Whether he could take it all the way to full-arsed depended on Deacon.
‘I assumed we’d be having this conversation face-to-face,’ Deacon said when he came on the line. ‘If you’re calling me rather than visiting, does that mean–’
‘I’m not calling about that,’ Trev cut in. ‘It’s Jack Smith. He’s taken Granddad.’
There was a pause. ‘I’m sorry?’
‘Jack Smith has abducted Granddad,’ Trev said. ‘If I don’t bring him the Key at midnight he’ll kill him.’
‘When did this happen?’ Deacon’s lecturing tone was gone. He was all business now.
Trev gave him a quick run-down of events. ‘So yeah,’ he said in conclusion, ‘I could do with some help.’
‘Of course,’ Deacon replied. ‘I’ll get a team together. This is a mistake on Smith’s part, a sign of desperation. We can take advantage of that.’
‘We can’t bring a team,’ Trev said. ‘He’s got a contact inside the Custodians, I’m sure of it. Our friend the traitor. If you start mobilising people, he’ll know you’re coming for him and he’ll kill Granddad.’
‘You’ve suggested that before, and I don’t see any evidence that backs it up,’ said Deacon. ‘It’s guesswork, and I don’t like to guess.’
‘All right then, answer this: how did Smith know we’d be in Kidderminster the other night?’
Deacon thought about it. ‘That’s a fair point,’ he eventually conceded, ‘but still not proof.’
‘He also knew I’d been at the pax party,’ Trev went on. ‘And he said he’d know if I brought the Custodians with me tonight. Someone’s been giving him information. It’s the only explanation.’
‘If you are right, then that limits our options,’ said Deacon.
‘Just a bit.’
‘And our bargaining position is non-existent because we don’t have the Key.’
‘Um… yeah. Well. About that,’ said Trev. ‘I might have located it.’
‘What?’
‘Sarah got in touch with me. She’s with Barker. I was on the phone to them earlier and Barker’s willing to let me… borrow the Key. He hates Jack Smith and wants to see him taken out. There’s a condition though. The Custodians aren’t to use this as an opportunity to arrest him.’
‘You told me just last night that you didn’t know where Barker was,’ Deacon said.
‘Last night I didn’t know,’ Trev lied. ‘Sarah only contacted me today.’
‘C
onveniently.’
Trev let the comment slide. He had to, really, as Deacon was one hundred percent correct to be sceptical.
‘So we can get the Key. Assuming you agree not to send people after Barker if he brings it.’
‘Trev, you have no authority to negotiate with suspects on behalf of the Custodians,’ Deacon said. ‘You’re not even a member of the Custodians.’
‘There’s no other way to get the Key,’ Trev replied. ‘I’m sorry if I over-stepped the mark but keeping Granddad alive is my priority here.’
‘And what are you going to do with it once you have it? Hand it over to Smith?’
‘I’ve got a plan, kind of,’ said Trev. ‘I’ll need your help though. Please.’
‘I thought you didn’t want the Custodians involved because Smith would know about it?’
Trev took a breath. This would be the tricky part. ‘It’s not that kind of help I’m after. I need to borrow The Twins, and that kris Ruby and Franz have got. I reckon I could get close enough to Smith to use it, if I have the Key as a distraction.’
‘That isn’t a plan, Trev. That’s a suicide note.’
Trev sat back. He hadn’t expected such a blunt response from Deacon.
‘All right, fine. Give me an alternative.’
‘You need backup. If you try that plan and it doesn’t come off, you and Bernard will die and Smith’s employers get the Key.’
‘No, Smith gets the Key. He’s decided he’s keeping it for himself. But otherwise, yes, the rest of that could happen.’
‘Hold on. He told you that?’
‘Yeah. Said the bad guys had kept him in the dark about the Key. Now he’s seen it in action he thinks it’s worth more than they offered him to get it, so he’s not going to hand it over. He’s gone rogue.’