The Mortal Knife

by D. J. McCune

  Auntie Jo scowled and paused her film. ‘It’s cold outside. It’s just a little nip to keep me warm. Uisce beatha, as Paddy says.’

  ‘Yeah but I don’t think he means the “water of life” stuff literally. You don’t actually have to drink it like water.’ Luc yawned and mimicked Uncle Paddy’s accent. ‘So, what’s the craic?’

  Auntie Jo looked irritated. ‘It’s not like you to be moping about at home on a slow day. I thought you’d be off enjoying your freedom now that the call-outs are back to normal.’

  ‘I thought I’d hang out here and liven the place up,’ Luc said.

  ‘Are you going out tonight?’ Adam tried to sound casual and disinterested.

  Luc shook his head through another yawn. ‘Dunno yet. Need to see what’s happening.’

  It all sounded like a promisingly quiet evening – but of course by early evening Luc’s mobile was on fire and after dinner Adam caught him slipping out of the back door. ‘Where are you going?’ His voice sounded shrill in his own ears.

  ‘Out.’

  Adam was desperate to know more. ‘Yeah, but where? What are you doing? Are you going to Flip Street? Or meeting someone?’

  Luc stared at him, bemused. ‘What, are you like my minder now? I’m going out. That’s all you need to know.’

  ‘You could take me,’ Adam blurted out, trying to stall him. ‘I can just run up and get changed.’

  ‘Yes, Adam, what a brilliant idea. Why don’t I take you out, bribe a particularly stupid and violent bouncer into letting you in with me and then watch you throw up all over the girl you’re trying to cop off with. That sounds like a great night out.’

  Adam scowled. Dragging up the painful memories of Cryptique was just low. He tried another tack. ‘Yeah, there’s probably some girl you’re meeting. I don’t want to cramp your style.’

  He was waiting for a crushing Luc-comeback but to his surprise Luc shook his head. ‘Nah. No girl. I’ve lost interest.’

  Alarm bells were going off in Adam’s head. ‘Why?’

  ‘I don’t want a girl. I want a woman. And not just any woman. I want someone like her.’

  Adam’s heart sank. He didn’t need to ask who Luc was talking about but he checked anyway. ‘You don’t mean Morta, do you?’ At Luc’s nod he groaned and shook his head. ‘What is it with you?! You’re mental! She’s a Fate! She’s not just some woman in Cryptique.’

  Luc shrugged. ‘I reckon she likes a bit of a challenge.’ He gave a filthy leer. ‘Must get pretty lonely up there all by herself. I could help her pass the time.’

  She’s not as lonely as you think, Adam thought. Aloud he said, ‘Look, she’s a nutter. She’s been killing people for fun! You heard Heinrich – she doesn’t have to take every single soul to meet her quota but she does it for fun!’

  Luc sighed. ‘I know. She’s a real psycho. A smokin’ hot psycho!’ He grinned and opened the door, slipping out into the garden.

  ‘Don’t go near her if she calls you! Seriously, find someone else!’ Adam hissed at the retreating figure. He had a sinking feeling there was nothing he could do to save his brother from himself.

  It was a relief to get back to school on Monday, although Adam still had a guilty feeling that he should be at home on Luc duty. In the end though, what could he actually do? Without telling Luc the whole story, there was no way of explaining the danger he was in. Telling the truth was impossible; the consequences were too huge. Luc wasn’t a snitch over the small stuff, but this was putting the whole family in jeopardy. Besides, trying to keep tabs on Luc was like herding cats. All he could do was hope that Morta stuck to her deal with Darian.

  Melissa had finally finished her art coursework. Adam offered to meet her in the art room as usual but she shook her head. ‘To be honest, I could do with a break from the smell of paint. Can we go for a walk?’

  Adam hesitated. After an exhausting weekend trying to keep Luc out of trouble the last thing he wanted was a face-off with the Beast. Still, they couldn’t hide in the art room forever. All he could do was nod and try and look enthusiastic. It was a cool, cloudy day, which at least gave him an excuse to put his arm round Melissa’s shoulders. She snuggled in closer as they walked and for a moment Adam thought his heart might explode in his chest. The novelty of having a girlfriend hadn’t worn off yet, especially someone as cool as Melissa.

  Melissa seemed quieter than usual and it didn’t take long to find out why. ‘So my mum got an appointment, at the hospital. She’s going there next week.’

  ‘Oh, right,’ Adam said. He wanted to say something encouraging but he couldn’t forget the premonitions he’d had, back before half-term. He’d never had his doom sense flare for anyone, unless they were just about to die. He’d never even met Melissa’s mum before but somehow he just knew she was the woman in his dreams. She looked like Melissa.

  ‘I’m going to go with her. My aunt couldn’t get off work. There’s no way I’m letting her go on her own.’

  ‘She’ll be glad you’re there,’ Adam said quietly. He glanced sidelong at her. He didn’t know where Melissa’s dad was – she rarely mentioned him. He just knew that she was really close to her mum. What was it going to do to her if something was wrong? As in, really wrong?

  ‘She’s a bit scared.’ Melissa’s voice was trembling a little. ‘She doesn’t show it. Well, she tries not to but I know she’s scared.’

  ‘She’ll be fine.’ He was lying. He was pretty sure she wasn’t fine at all – but whatever was wrong with her, maybe it could be fixed. He hoped so. He couldn’t bear seeing Melissa so sad. He tried to change the subject. ‘At least you won’t miss the art show. Your mum will be really excited about that.’

  It worked. Melissa brightened up and started talking about her artwork. Her voice was brittle with something between nerves and excitement. ‘Everyone is going to get out of class on Friday to see our pieces. It’s not usually displayed at this time of year but Ms Havens has a friend from art college coming. She won’t tell us who it is yet – but she has a gallery and she’s going to display some of our work if she likes it. Ms Havens thinks I have a really good chance of getting something in. How amazing would that be?’

  ‘Pretty amazing,’ Adam said, grinning at her. His grin faded slightly as they entered the main building. It was buzzing with people – and if he was feeling generous, ‘people’ included the Beast and his friends.

  Melissa seemed blissfully unaware that anything might be wrong. She waved at some of her friends and darted over to talk to them. The Beast had clocked Adam’s presence and had fallen quiet, his group staring menacingly in Adam’s direction. Adam took a surreptitious peek around the foyer, hoping to see a teacher, but there was no one useful on the scene. The problem was the Beast loved an audience. An opportunity like this would be almost irresistible. When you ruled with terror, a public act of vengeance was worth ten times more than a private one.

  Adam tried not to look worried. He’d escaped from the Beast once before by disappearing into the Hinterland. It was totally forbidden but under the circumstances (dark alley and certain death as an alternative), Adam had decided that breaking Luman law was the lesser of two evils. Now, in the packed foyer, there was no prospect of escaping, short of turning tale and running. That probably wasn’t going to impress Melissa much. But what was the alternative? Stay here and face a public beating?

  Adam walked on, excruciatingly aware of the Beast’s eyes on him. Weasel, the Beast’s most loyal minion, was practically salivating with excitement. He was thin and spotty and vicious – and he was eyeing Adam with barely concealed glee. ‘Look at him, Michael! Look at that little prick. He came in with Melissa!’

  There was a long silence. Adam slowed and turned to meet the Beast’s gaze. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. It was going to be public and horrible and humiliating, but he wasn’t actually going to die, which was something to be thankful for. He might get a mouthful of Michael Bulber’s fist but at least he wasn’t dod
ging Morta’s knife.

  And then, just as he was bracing himself, the miracle happened. Michael Bulber sneered at Adam and said loudly, ‘Who cares, lads. Let him have her. Sloppy seconds. Why would I want her when I’ve got this waiting for me?’ He held up his mobile phone for them to admire a photo – a photo Adam recognised immediately. ‘She’s coming here soon and she’s gagging for me. She’s Italian. She’s called Bellissima, Bella for short. Bellissima Pesce.’

  Adam’s eyes widened and he only just stopped himself from guffawing. Laughter would be fatal. His Italian was limited to a few phrases but if he’d heard correctly, Spike had called their mythical babe ‘Beautiful Fish.’ He bit the inside of his lip and tried to look deeply jealous until he was safely past. Weasel’s disappointed face was a picture. Spike was a genius. The Beast had bought the Wonderfish thing hook, line and sinker. He couldn’t wait to tell his friends. Adam’s thoughts were racing at a hundred miles an hour but that didn’t matter. The Wonderfish had saved him.

  A moment later Melissa hurried up to join him. ‘Sorry! I was talking to Ellen.’ She glanced back over her shoulder at where Bulber was laughing and jostling with his friends. ‘What happened? Did he give you a hard time? What did he say?’

  Adam gave her a beatific smile and threw his arm round her shoulders. ‘He didn’t say anything. We won’t have to worry about him for a while. He’s got other fish to fry now.’

  Adam was still on a high when he went to chemistry revision after school. As he looked round the lab he had the most surreal feeling. This time last week he had been on his way to meet Clotho in her realm – and narrowly dodging the Hunter and Morta. Now a week later his only imminent danger was dying of boredom. His life was always a juggling act but sometimes it was weird even by his standards.

  A few more reluctant souls wandered in before the class started, and among them was Spike. Adam was surprised to see him but he nodded at the empty stool beside him. Spike slouched over and flung his laptop on the bench. He didn’t normally bother with revision classes, so it was a surprise seeing him there. His memory was like a high-definition camera; he read things once and they got etched into his brain forever. Adam wished his memory was like that. It would have made it much easier getting through tests, especially when you couldn’t revise because you were guiding souls in a war zone.

  Spike hopped onto the stool and answered the question before it was asked. ‘It was either this or detention. At least here I can get on with some work. In detention they just make everyone copy out those worksheets about eight million times.’

  ‘They make you copy out the sheets because you’ve already filled them in before. You should have done more of the Batman breathing stuff.’ Adam grinned. Spike was the smartest person he knew but he wasn’t very good at doing what he was told. Adam could never decide whether Spike was going to rule the world or end up locked up in a prison cell with clear walls …

  Spike grunted in reply and opened his laptop. He never looked particularly healthy but even by his standards he was looking corpse-like. His skin had a grey hue and the shadows under his eyes stretched halfway down his cheeks. He was studying the screen with a disgusted expression. ‘I spent all weekend working on my face recognition programme and I finally got it running overnight. It’s trawling the web and getting hits but they were all really random in the tests I did with people I know. Sometimes it’s the person I’m looking for. Sometimes it’s a family member. Sometimes it’s nobody.’ He shook his head. ‘I need to refine it.’

  Adam peered at the screen. The programme was searching busily through the billions of pictures on the internet, but Adam was pretty sure he was safe. He had always been careful to avoid school photos, and family photos were kept in leather-bound albums. The Luman world wasn’t exactly up to date with technology but even the Concilium had realised that with new, digital cameras there was a danger in sharing photos online. Just occasionally a soul would leave its body – only to be returned to it after swift medical treatment. Most of the time the only thing the soul remembered was their Light and a warm, hazy sense that someone was there taking care of them. It wouldn’t do for them to spot their guide leering out of an online photo site. Of course the one thing he couldn’t control was police surveillance, like CCTV images. There were thousands of cameras all over London. Still, surely even Spike wouldn’t start wading through that kind of footage?

  As if reading his mind Spike scowled at the screen. ‘I tried getting more of the CCTV footage, to see if Baseball Cap had ever looked straight into a camera, but he kept his face down most of the time. Trust Dan to only get him from the side. A face on picture would have made it easy. Baseball Cap was really careful. S’pose he would be, if he’s a ninja. ’

  Lucky, not careful, Adam thought. And definitely not a ninja. When he thought of the CCTV cameras he must have walked past that day … He could have been caught like a rat – and all because Dan was in the wrong place at the wrong time.

  The revision class started. Adam made a valiant attempt to master the basics of valencies even though his thoughts were all over the place. Spike’s laptop was super-booted to the nth degree but it was whirring and chugging under the strain of his search. It was a constant distraction. Spike didn’t even pretend to be listening to what was going on in the class, giving all his attention to the photos flickering across the screen, checking them and the percentage match against the picture of Baseball Cap hovering on the far side of the screen.

  Adam couldn’t quite shake the feeling that he was looking at a ghost, seeing himself standing there. It made him want to laugh or shriek, knowing that he was sitting right beside the person who was trying to hunt him down. Like something out of a nightmare, he watched the endless parade of images flutter across the laptop screen, freeze for a few seconds, then disappear beneath a new image. Still, as the pictures marched onwards he made a conscious effort to relax. The thing was, every picture was totally different to the last. There were men, women and children of every race and colour in an infinite variety of poses. Some were in corporate headshots; others were brandishing barbecue tongs or grinning over birthday cakes. Some were black and white photos dredged from historical archives, all because one person at the centre of the group had a jawline or a cheekbone reminiscent of his own. He stifled a grin but tried to sound sympathetic. ‘Look, it was always a long shot. Even the police haven’t been able to find the guy.’

  Spike was squinting at each face in turn, as if he could match them by sheer force of will. Occasionally he pressed pause and scrolled back a few frames, as though he was scared of having missed something. He was muttering under his breath. ‘The parameters are too wide. I need to tighten them up.’ Frustrated, he slammed his hand down on the bench, making everyone in the room jump awake.

  ‘Sebastian! What on earth are you doing?’ Their teacher Mrs Suresh was glaring across at them. It took Adam a minute to realise who she was talking to; he couldn’t remember the last time his friend had been called anything other than Spike.

  It took Spike a minute to realise too, not least because he hated being called Sebastian. Still, after previous encounters, Mrs Suresh was one of the few teachers he was slightly in awe of so he settled for replying, ‘Nothing,’ through gritted teeth.

  Mrs Suresh wasn’t mollified. ‘Since you’re obviously not listening to a word I’m saying you can run a message for me. No, leave your computer where it is! Believe me, you’ll be back before the end of the session.’

  Spike was scowling – but even he wasn’t going to risk after-school chemistry every day for the rest of the year. He stomped up to the desk with a pained sigh and took the envelope from the teacher’s hand.

  Mrs Suresh continued as though nothing had happened and the class slumped back into sleepy incomprehension. Adam’s eyes were closing and he forced them open. He watched the screen on Spike’s laptop, hoping for some kind of entertainment, but the hypnotic slide of photos only made things worse. His eyelids were drooping and h
is eyes drifted over the images, one after the other, after the other, after the other until –

  Adam jolted upright. He stared stupidly at the screen, unable to believe what he was seeing. The image was already moving on and he panicked. He had to get it back! He lunged for the keyboard, then forced himself to stop. He needed to be careful. If he disrupted the programme Spike would want to know why – and if Adam had seen what he thought he’d just seen then Spike needed to never, ever know that photo existed.

  Hardly daring to breathe, he hovered over the mouse pad until the programme controls appeared, then pressed pause. A smiling couple grinned out of a wedding photo, champagne glasses raised in a toast. In the time it had taken him to come to his senses the photo had changed several times. He needed to go back. He clicked the arrow key, and the image changed to a smiling Jewish boy at a bar mitzvah. He pressed again, trying to tell himself he’d been dreaming, that it wasn’t possible, that no one would be stupid enough to –

  And then, as the photo burst back onto the screen, he stopped telling himself anything and simply stared.

  Chapter 19

  Several hours later, Adam was still in shock. He lay on his bed chewing his lip, trying to ignore the sick, churning feeling in his stomach. It wasn’t like he was easily freaked out – his life wasn’t exactly normal – but it had always made a kind of sense because of who he was. He was a Mortson and the Mortsons were Lumen. He might not like it – but he’d always known who he was because of his family. They had each other, even if they weren’t the typical suburban family.

  Just recently though he’d been starting to feel like there were more secrets than he’d ever imagined. It was like lots of tiny pieces in a jigsaw were coming together and falling into place – but frustratingly he still couldn’t see the whole picture. It had started with Morta’s sneers at the Summoning. Then there was Auntie Jo’s day of drunken sobbing and then her confession that his parents had been forced to elope, even though Nathanial was a Mortson. And why did the French side of the family largely shun them even now? Family and connections were everything in the Luman world. He had never thought about it before but now it was beginning to hit him: there was something in his family’s past that didn’t add up – and the photograph provided him with his first solid piece of evidence.