by Mark Hayden
‘No need. If Leah trusted him, then so do I. Thanks for the lift, Michael.’
He strained his brow, trying to think of something to offer me in return for my advice. ‘If you give me your number, I’ll text you. Then you can call me for a ride any time. Or a trip on one of the boats.’ I passed him my card and waved him off.
Unlike some Mages, the Mowbrays don’t stint when it comes to mundane technology. The girls reported super-fast Wi-Fi in the suite, and I’d been given an iPad with 4G reception. The tablet was loaded with a whole suite of helicopter-related apps, including a program that recorded preflight checks and service notes. I checked, and Michael’s father had passed it 100% A1 ready.
Even so, for this first flight I was going to do the full thing myself. I opened the app and performed the first check – #1 - Door. Does it open? It did, and I put the tablet on the seat.
At half past five, I started the twin engines and got ready to lift off. The Mowbrays had put a lot of trust in me. It was entirely possible that I would crash into the mansion and wipe them out. Let’s hope not.
I flew in a lazy circle around the Fal estuary, avoiding Falmouth town and taking the blue bus well out to sea. The H155 is not the most responsive helicopter, but it beats a Chinook. Did I indulge myself and burn Lord Mowbray’s fuel on a jolly? Of course not: this was important familiarisation flying, and I defy you to prove otherwise. Besides, if my last sight on earth wasn’t going to be Mina, that view of the Cornish coast is as good as any memory to take to Valhalla. Or wherever.
I made my first pass over Pellacombe at a good height, just to see if I could see it. I could, even if it looked like it was in shadow when the rest of the earth was bathed in sunshine. I looped round to the east and got ready to descend properly.
There was a nice clear run to the helipad with no hills or trees to complicate things. I double-checked the map and started losing height. The granite chimneys of Pellacombe came into view ahead of schedule, and I dropped a little faster, on a line with the Ferrymistress’s cottage.
A cold sweat prickled my neck. I was half a kilometre early, according to my internal map and compass, but right on track according to the visuals – that is, what I could see in front of me. I closed my eyes in desperation and tried to feel the muscles in my arm where the magickal key had entered. A throb of heat. The key was stuck there, pulsing gently, inside my arm but not bound with my Imprint. I used every ounce of willpower and focus to pull the end of the twisted rope up my arm.
Slowly, very slowly, it snaked up my arm. I twitched the collective a fraction to get a bit of height back, and the magick rushed up my arm, into my chest and hit my heart with a burst of Lux. I opened my eyes and I was heading into a hillside.
I don’t know what I did next, because I wasn’t thinking, I was doing what thousands of hours of practice told me to do to get the chopper over the hill and skim the roof of the summerhouse. In its shadow, three women stood unflinching as I nearly wiped them out. That was bloody close.
I could have taken the long way round to let my heart slow down. No chance. I needed to try that landing again, and I needed to do it as quickly as possible. I banked hard to the south and made a big loop back to Pellacombe.
This time I took the descent at borderline idiot speeds. If I was going to hit the hill, or trees, or the summerhouse, I didn’t want to know about it. Do or die. It was the sort of speed you only do when you’re desperate or under enemy attack.
The chimneys lined up with Lamorne Point as they should have done, and I brought the blue bus to land right in the centre of the artificial grass. I closed my eyes, took a deep breath and started to shut down the engines.
Mina ran across to grab me, scarf trailing and blowing in the dying wash of the rotors. I lifted her and span her round before burying my face in her hair. ‘Sorry, love. That was too close.’
‘I knew you’d do it,’ she said. She gave me a quick kiss and we walked over to meet Leah and Saffron.
Leah saluted. ‘That was well done, sir. So close I thought you’d practised it.’
‘The implication being that if I hadn’t practised it, then I was clueless.’
‘Your words, not mine,’ grinned Leah.
Saffron looked less happy: in half an hour she had to get in the chopper with me. No wonder she said, ‘What happened, Conrad, if you don’t mind me asking?’
‘I’d be more worried if you hadn’t asked. You’ve every right to know, and the answer is that I have no clue. I think the Glamours around Pellacombe must be dynamic and shift depending on how you approach them. Either that or the house is alive. Or both. The illusion changed at exactly the right moment to put me into that hillside I managed to re-bond in time. It won’t happen again.’
Mina had been watching Saffron’s face and asked the question that Saff was too afraid to ask. ‘How do you know?’
I tapped my chest. ‘I felt it, and there was no shadow on the land the second time.’
‘Come on,’ said Mina. ‘There’s tea in the summerhouse and I brought out the cake. I thought you might need it.’
Leah joined us, and in ten seconds conversation had moved on from helicopters to babies. Scout appeared, too, and curled up on my feet. According to Mina, he’d been with them until I nearly crashed, at which point he’d howled like a wolf and run off round the estate trying to catch up with the chopper.
‘Do you mind if I go and say goodbye?’ said Leah, rising and reaching for a hug. She’d just had a text.
‘To whom?’ said Mina.
‘Smurf.’
The girls looked at each other blankly.
‘What else would you call a bright blue helicopter?’ I supplied.
Leah grinned. ‘I know you’ll take good care of him, Conrad. It’s the others who come after you that I worry about.’
We watched her stride across the grass and pat the side of the helicopter. Then she leaned down and kissed the grinning wild boar on the pilot’s door. Saff looked to the right, as did Scout. Their hearing’s much better than mine.
A battered pickup bounced into view and did a circle round the chopper to face the way it had come. It stopped near Leah, and she gave us a last wave before climbing in and kissing her husband. She was turning a page in her life. The next time we met, she would be on maternity leave. I silently wished her luck and gave belated Thanks to Odin for still being alive.
‘I too must go,’ said Mina. ‘I got a call from Cador – or Mr Cador as everyone insists on calling him. He wants to go through something.’
‘I wondered why you’d got changed,’ I said. ‘I thought you were saving that outfit for tomorrow.’
‘I am,’ she said, repositioning the emerald green scarf. ‘Tomorrow has started early, that’s all. Come on, Scout, you’re not flying today.’
They left us, and I went to stand under the veranda for a smoke. Saffron joined me (upwind) and asked something about our imminent trip. She’s a good person, really. She’d decided that my near-death experience was not the best preparation for an argument about uniform.
‘Mmm. What have you got against your outfit, Saffron? Or costume if you prefer.’
She went red. ‘I don’t mind the ceremonial occasions, Conrad, even if the dress uniform is grossly unflattering for women. I can cope with that. Just. It’s this.’ She passed her hand down the desert camouflage. ‘You don’t wear it any other time, do you? So why now? I think it demeans your status as a Watch Captain.’
‘And yours?’
‘Yes, but I thought we were partners. What demeans you demeans me. And vice versa.’
‘What did I tell you about Irina when we finally arrested her?’
She frowned. ‘A lot. Which bit?’
‘That motives can be mixed. There is rarely a single reason for human behaviour. We are not Dwarves.’
She nodded, keen to avoid a serious argument.
I continued. ‘When we meet the Daughters tomorrow, how do you think they’ll react?’
She opened her mouth, closed it and tried to put herself in the Witches’ shoes. Her mouth twisted in a bitter smile. ‘I know what they’ll think of me. They’ll think, “Oh, that’s Lady Hawkins’ daughter. Heidi Marston’s cousin. You know the one.” It’s happened often enough.’
‘And me?’
She looked away. ‘Hard to say.’
‘Don’t worry, Saff. You won’t upset me.’
She looked back and blinked. ‘I know what my mother said to my auntie. I overheard them when they found out I’d been teamed with you.’ She lapsed into silence.
‘Let me guess. It involved jumped up mundane thug. Or similar.’
‘Close. Ignorant magickal tourist were the exact words. Tourist is the Hawkins family code for non-Mages hitching a ride.’
‘I’m proud of the uniform. Maybe you will be one day. Until then, focus on that badge.’ I pointed to the two pips on the tab around her chest button. ‘It’s the Queen’s commission. It reminds Mages who we are and who we have at our backs.’
She grinned and nodded her head. ‘The Daughters can look down on you and me, but they diss the Watch at their peril.’
‘Too right, Lieutenant Hawkins.’
‘In that case, can I say something else?’
‘The day I tell you to keep your opinions to yourself is the day you ring the Boss and ask for a new partner. Go on.’
‘Who’s going to handle their luggage tomorrow?’
I let that sink in for a second and did myself what I’d made her do: put myself in the Daughters’ shoes. ‘That’s an excellent point. After all, we’re Guarantors, not footmen.’
‘Not that manual labour is beneath us,’ she added, a little unnecessarily.
‘Of course. Hang on.’ I got out my phone and dialled. ‘Hello, Michael … No, I don’t need a boat, thanks, what I need is a loadie, as we call them in the RAF. How do you fancy a chopper ride tomorrow, to help with logistics? … Of course you’ll have to ask your mum and dad. I’ll have to ask the Mowbrays, too. Text me and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Who?’
‘Michael. The Ferrymistress’s lad. The one who drove the buggy.’
‘Why him?’
‘Instinct. And he’s non-threatening to Witches.’
‘Other than being a man. You do know that some of them are complete androphobes and we’re taking two men to meet them.’
‘Three. Don’t forget Scout.’
She laughed. ‘As if I could. What do you want me to do in the helicopter, exactly? I promise on my life not to touch any buttons if you let me sit in the front.’
‘Of course you’re in the front. Your controls will all be switched off. Don’t worry, you can’t make us crash. Let’s go.’
I passed her the iPad and showed her the apps. ‘If you call out the preflight checks and tick them off, it’ll save loads of time. In the air, I’d like you to learn how to use the radio.’
She nodded, full of serious purpose. ‘Right. Don’t worry. I’ve got it.’
11 — Happy Families
Saffron was a model assistant throughout the flight, and cast a wistful look over her shoulder when we left the Smurf on the ground at Lamorne Point. She’d caught the chopper bug. A serious affliction.
‘I don’t mind the walk,’ she said, ‘but why did you land on this side and not at Pellacombe?’ She carefully didn’t suggest that it might be because I was scared of crashing.
‘True love.’
‘Eh?’
I pointed to the neat cottage with killer views over the river to Pellacombe. No wonder Michael didn’t want it to go out of the family. ‘The Ferrymistress was born to the job. She fell in love with the apprentice mechanic who’s now the senior Estate engineer. That concrete bunker at the back of the landing zone? He’ll be there tomorrow morning to service the Smurf.’
She laughed. ‘Service the Smurf. That sounds sooo wrong. How do we get across? I’m not good with boats.’
‘You grew up in the country, yet you don’t shoot, sail, ride or ramble. What did you do?’
‘Cherwell Roost isn’t a country house; it’s a house in the country. If you must know, before I went to boarding school, I used to do a lot of sewing with my Nana. Dad’s mother. Why do you think my uniform fits better than Vicky’s or Desi’s?’
‘Erm…’
‘You tried not to notice, didn’t you?’
‘Well…’
‘Just don’t you dare tell Mina or Myfanwy that I can sew, okay?’
‘Right. Your personal dress-maker isn’t your grandmother is it?’
She looked alarmed. ‘How did you know about that?’
‘Because you talked to her in the car after the Battle of the First Mine. My hearing’s not that bad.’
‘Oh. No. It’s a girl from school who’s getting into fashion the hard way, from the bottom up.’ She waved her hand, as if having a personal dressmaker with your exact size was an act of charity rather than a manifestation of privilege. I left it there
‘To answer your original question, the Ferrymistress has to provide a crossing between dawn and dusk. After that, we’re on our own. As the sun won’t set for another hour, we’re good.’
Michael’s older sister, now in fewer layers, was sitting on the jetty reading an old book that looked distinctly magickal. She jumped up when we approached and packed the book carefully into a canvas bag.
She took us across in the same skiff that Michael had used earlier, and although we were never in danger, it was clear to me that the water genes in the family had all gone to her brother.
Back in the King’s Watch suite, Saffron headed for the bathroom and a well-earned shower. I poured myself an equally well-earned single malt from the generous bar and gave Mina a kiss. ‘What did Cador want?’ I asked her.
‘To check me out. In a non-sexual way. Lord Mowbray had clearly told him to ask me some questions and he wanted to get them out of the way before dinner. It doesn’t get any easier.’
‘What doesn’t?’
‘Being asked delicate questions about my time in prison and my Indian heritage. It might have been less unpleasant if he’d hit on me. Part of me would have found that flattering, so long as he kept his hands to himself.’
‘I’m sorry.’
She stood up. ‘It’s not your burden, it’s mine. I can’t change the past or re-make the world, and most of the time I’m very lucky. I’m going to get changed. You definitely need a shower, Conrad, so don’t leave it too long.’
The girls had discussed their outfits for tonight while I was busy nearly dying in the helicopter. They’d even roped Leah into it on the basis that she must have eaten with the Mowbrays while on road trips. Saffron (and Leah) had persuaded Mina to wear western dress and go short in the skirt. Blue is her favourite colour, but red sometimes works better, and it meant she’d co-ordinate with Saffron’s yellow number. And me? Who the hell cares what I wore, so long as it didn’t smell of jet fuel.
Lena knocked on the door at five to eight. She’d changed, too, and wore a floral Seasalt dress (or so I’m told).
‘Tomorrow, I am showing you all of the house,’ she said. ‘Tonight it is best if I take you. The family room is hard to find.’
She led us down that second staircase, but not as far as the entrance to the Lab (whatever that was), and took us into a snug dining room on the middle floor. When I say snug, I mean that relative to Pellacombe, not your average semi-detached. It seated ten people and had patio doors on to a terrace.
The first to greet us was Eseld, who was also the most formally dressed, if your calendar for formality was dated 1819. Another beautiful silk pull-over shirt was held by a leather belt over silk knee breeches.
Yes, you read that right. Knee breeches, complete with buckles at the bottom to stop them riding above her knees. She also had white stockings and flat black leather shoes with a bar across. The overall effect was definitely striking, and the breeches emphasised her hips in a way that enhanced her femi
ninity.
Eseld said hello and bent down to greet Scout, squatting to get down to his level. He eyed her nervously, his tail wagging slowly. Unlike every other human he’d met, Eseld didn’t try to stroke him. ‘You’re a funny one,’ she said to Scout. He backed off a pace and she straightened up, turning her attention to me. ‘Leah says you ride. D’you fancy a gallop tomorrow morning?’
‘I’d love to, but I’m not sure I’ll have time. Lena needs to prep us for the conference.’
The slight curl to her lip said what Eseld thought of Lena. ‘That’s at nine. Breakfast’s at eight, and I’ll see you in the stables at six thirty.’
It was a challenge. A gauntlet thrown down. In this instance, I had nothing to lose and everything to gain by finding out more about one of our hosts. The thought of riding around the estate was also very attractive. ‘I’ll look forward to it. Where are the stables?’
‘Tell your Familiar to go find the horseys. It’ll do him good.’ She pivoted with a dancer’s grace and intercepted Saffron, whisking her off to the drinks tray.
Ethan and Cador came over to say hello and I noticed that they were undressed in one unusual way. Eseld was sporting a Mowbray blue silk scarf around her neck to complete the Regency gentleman look. As for the men, it was shirts and chinos, and no Mowbray blue at all. Not a stitch. Interesting. Perhaps Cador had deliberately given his sister the wrong dress code for tonight. It’s the sort of thing I’d have done to Rachael if she’d upset me, and I whispered as much to Mina a short while later.
‘Oh no,’ said Mina. ‘If anyone has misled Eseld, it would be Lena, but I think Eseld likes being different. I wonder why.’
‘Does she need a reason?’ I asked.
‘We all have reasons for conforming or making ourselves stand out. I wonder what on earth she’s going to wear for the conference.’
The sun was lighting up the Fal with golden flickers as Lena invited us in from the terrace. The meal was a little nervous, but not in the least strained, mostly thanks to Cador. He has a knack of getting the best out of people when he wants to, and he could afford to be relaxed and take risks because he has nothing to prove or to lose tomorrow. He will never be staff king. He will not have to play hostess. He does not have to use a magickal seal, or fly helicopters or guarantee anyone’s safety.
