by Emma Newman
“I take it a ‘boyfriend’ is the mundane equivalent of courting a young man without parental permission?” he asked, arms folded, resolutely still.
“Yes. And I know what you’re worried about so why don’t you just come out with it?”
Tom looked away, deeply embarrassed. “This is an absolute nightmare.”
Cathy rolled her eyes. “You’re only upset because you think Josh and I slept together, right?”
“How could you have become so crass so soon?”
“We didn’t.”
His eyebrows shot up. “A mundane with traditional values? I find that hard to believe.”
“No, it was the bloody curse.” This time it was she who hid her face with her hands. She rubbed her skin, wanting to wake up out of the same nightmare as her brother. “Look, when I went up to Cambridge, you didn’t think Father trusted the chaperone and the minder, did you? He put a curse on me, to make sure I didn’t lose my market value.”
“Catherine! What a way to speak of your own purity.”
“Oh, please. I’m not stupid, that’s what it comes down to, isn’t it? Have to guarantee the goods are pure and unsullied when selling them off to the highest bidder.”
Tom didn’t have an argument to put forward against the truth, no matter how crass it sounded. “Father told you he’d cursed you?”
“No. I managed to get away from the minder and hide in Manchester but I didn’t find a way to break the curse.”
“How did you find out about it?”
She blushed. “You really want to know?”
“Not really, but I feel I must.”
“Every time I… whenever I… if I had those kinds of intentions near a man… Oh, God. Can’t you just take my word for it?”
“I have to know whether our family has an even worse problem than I thought.”
“If I tried to take my clothes off near a man, with the intention of… being close to him, they would put themselves back on again. I couldn’t even unbutton my shirt or take off my shoe if that was what I was planning to do.”
He looked appalled. “So you only discovered this curse because you tried to…” he cleared his throat, “sleep with this Collins man?”
She nodded, her blush competing with his.
“I don’t know what to say. Of all the things I’ve thought of you, Catherine, I never thought you’d have such low moral standards and loose virtue.”
“Oh, give me a break, it’s different in Mundanus. If anyone should be offended it’s me! I have every right to do what I like with my body!”
“I refer you to my earlier comments regarding your selfishness,” he said stiffly. “I’m relieved Father had the foresight to take these measures. It’s been proven that you didn’t deserve his trust at all.”
She forced herself to breathe out slowly. “It’s a different world, and anyway, this doesn’t change the fact that we need to go to London and save Josh.”
“You want me to go against Father’s express wishes so we can save a mundane man who sought to deflower you?”
She was about to argue more, but realised it wasn’t the time. “I want you to help me save an innocent man who doesn’t deserve to be murdered because I am such a bloody idiot, OK? I want you to be the kind of brother who wouldn’t want that either. If he dies, I won’t be able to live with the guilt.”
He glanced at the car. “I don’t know how fast we can get there.”
“Let me drive,” she said, holding out her hand. “I passed my test, don’t worry.”
He dropped the key onto her palm. “I can’t believe I’m doing this. We need to leave London as soon as we can when this is done.”
“I know,” she said, running over to the car.
“And if I think, for one moment you’re planning some kind of elaborate escape–”
“I know, Barbie time,” she said, adjusting the seat and mirror as he clicked his seatbelt in place with a confused expression. “Now don’t freak out. I’m going to give it some wellie.”
“I don’t even understand what you mean,” he muttered as she revved the engine, working out the clutch point.
Then she floored it, and he didn’t say a word for the rest of the trip.
13
Cathy cautiously pushed open the door of the Emporium of Things in Between and Besides and peeped in to check for other customers. There were none.
The bell tinkled above her and the Shopkeeper looked up from his book.
“Catherine!”
She went in, defensive. “Hello.”
“I’m so glad you’re back.”
“I’m not here to work for you.”
He gave her a sad look, tucked his bookmark into place and closed the book. “Not for that reason. I wanted to explain before; I didn’t tell Lord Poppy you’d be here, but you didn’t give me a chance.”
“Really?” She always found it so hard to tell whether people were telling the truth.
“Really, Catherine. I’m amazed you think I’d do that. Is your regard for my discretion so poor?”
She bit her lip. “Not many people would tell a Fae Lord to get lost.”
“That’s true, and why I could not. But he worked out where you were all by himself. I have no idea how. He told me to make sure you didn’t guess he was there. I had to obey.”
“OK,” she said, coming into the shop. “I’m sorry I was horrible to you. I was upset.”
“Understandably.”
“And everything is all bug… is falling apart and I need your help. A Rosa is on the way to London to kill a mundane, and it’s my fault.”
The Shopkeeper came out from behind the counter, too intrigued to remember to take off his glasses. “Are you certain?”
She nodded. “He told us. He was totally chilled out about it.”
“Chilled?”
She sighed. “He didn’t give the impression he was concerned about murdering a mundane.” Speech in the Nether was so long-winded.
“I know the Rosa family is arrogant, and is powerful in Londinium, but even so… there are still Arbiters to consider, even if one is unconcerned by moral issues.”
“It’s Horatio Gallica-Rosa. Is he good with a sword?”
“Only the best in Londinium, arguably Albion. The only other young blood I’d consider his equal is Nathaniel Reticulata-Iris. It’s just as well they live so far apart.”
“Bollocks,” Cathy muttered. “Look, I reckon I’ve got an hour at the most to make sure he fails. What’ve you got that could help?”
“You want to use a Charm on a member of the Rosa family? They’d find out, you know, it would make things worse.”
“What about one I could cast on Josh, the mundane, to protect him?”
The shopkeeper rubbed his chin thoughtfully. “I don’t need to counsel you against using a Charm in Mundanus, do I?”
“I know the risks. I don’t have much time. Tom is waiting outside.”
“He found you then?”
She nodded, not wanting to go there. “Please, anything. I’ll owe you.”
“It would have to be strong, but subtle,” he murmured, his grey eyes scanning the shelves. “Fast-acting and short-lived, to ensure it couldn’t be identified and traced back to you…”
Cathy bounced on her heels, aware of time slipping away. If she stepped out of the Nether outside the shop, they’d be in Smithfields. She had no idea where Josh was, but Tom said he had a couple of Seeker Charms left that she could use when the time came.
“I have it!” the Shopkeeper said, dragging over the wheeled stepladder. “A Luck Charm, one that’s very potent with a tight localised effect. It’s very easy to cast, just a matter of ensuring contact with the individual who needs the luck.” He climbed up to one of the higher shelves, rummaged amongst the boxes and came back down to her holding a plain wooden tube.
He unscrewed the top. She expected a telescope to slide out of it, but instead something more like a small egg dropped into his palm. He showed it to her. “It
is as it looks,” he said. “The shell is very fragile, it breaks easily on contact, so you don’t have to hit him too hard with it. Speak his name on contact, so all the luck goes to him.”
“Will it leave a mark though?”
“It’s white for a few moments, then disappears, so you’d better time it well. Apply just before the Rosa attacks; the mundane will have anywhere between five to ten minutes of extraordinary good luck, then he’s on his own. It’s impossible to trace to you.”
“But they could trace it here,” she said, watching him carefully wrap the egg in tissue paper.
“As I have had occasion to explain many times in the past, I simply sell the goods, I do not choose what to do with them. And I never disclose what I sell to whom.”
She took the wrapped egg and kissed him on the cheek. “Thank you. I’ll come back when I can, OK?”
He didn’t reply, just brushed his cheek with his fingertips as she dashed out of the door.
Half an hour later, Cathy and Tom were chasing a lone mint imperial down a street in Notting Hill. They’d parked the car, the traffic too heavy to make progress, and cast the last Seeker Charm Tom had to narrow down Joshua’s exact location.
It wobbled briefly outside a tall wooden gate that was already open, before changing direction to go through and head up the path, then toppling onto its side at the bottom of a doorstep.
They stopped at the gate. The front door was already open; they’d got there in time to see Horatio’s back as he stepped into the house and slammed the door behind him.
“Shit!” Cathy said, diving behind the wall and out of sight should the Rosa turn around. “How did he get here so fast?”
“He might have used the Nether, I think the Rosa family has properties in the midlands,” Tom replied. “Perhaps one of them is connected to a Londinium house, then he’d just have to step through into London. It’s what I would have done, if we’d had property outside of Aquae Sulis.”
“We just have to hit Josh with the egg…” Cathy said, looking up at the upper storeys of the town house.
“I could throw it, if I had a line of sight, but we can’t go in there, Cat, I can’t risk upsetting the Rosas in their city.”
There was no apparent access to the rear of the house from the front gate. “Maybe we can go round the back.” She set off down the outside of the wall. The house was on a corner and she hoped there would be access, not that she knew what she’d do if there was.
There was a garden, but no back gate, only another property backing onto the house Josh was in.
There was a sound of a door opening and footsteps on flagstones. “If you don’t get out now I’m going to call the police!”
It was Josh. Cathy heard a beep of a mobile phone button, then a thwack and the sound of it smashing on the floor.
“You bastard!”
“Answer my question!” the Rosa yelled.
“Can you climb the wall?” she asked Tom but he shook his head. He pointed to the house that backed onto the garden. “We could try there.”
They sprinted round the corner, vaulted the gate and Cathy rang the doorbell, imagining Horatio cutting Josh down as they tried to avoid a scandal. She rang a second time but no one answered. Tom put his hand on the handle and used the same Charm he’d used to break into her flat. The door swung open.
“Upstairs, at the back,” Cathy said, and they took the stairs two at a time.
There was a door ahead of them, a bedroom, sumptuously decorated with a mercifully large view onto the garden. Tom lifted the lower half of the sashed window. They could see Horatio drawing his sword as Josh backed away across the grass.
“Give me the egg,” Tom said and Cathy unwrapped it with trembling hands. Holding it gently between thumb and forefinger, he leant out of the window and, after a moment that seemed like a day to Cathy, he tossed it high into the air.
“What are you doing!” she squealed as it flew upwards, not straight at Josh.
“Watch,” he said and she saw the egg hit the peak of its trajectory and then begin a downward plummet.
“Joshua Collins,” she whispered as the egg splattered the top of Josh’s head.
He cried out and looked up for the offending bird.
“It’s done,” Tom said. “Let’s go.”
“I have to make sure he’s OK,” Cathy said, but Tom shut the window and pulled her away.
“There’s nothing we can do now anyway,” he said, dragging her out of the room. “We’ve wasted enough time.”
“I have to know!” she said and kicked him in the shin. Leaving him clutching his leg, she raced down the stairs, through the house to the back door, grateful to see the key left in its lock. Tom was catching her up as she bolted into the back garden and raced to the bench she’d seen against the dividing garden wall.
“Cat!” he hissed as she jumped up onto it and looked over the top. There was no one in the garden, but she could see movement inside the house.
Cathy scrabbled over the top, kicking Tom in the process as he tried to grab her feet. She fell into the bushes on the other side, scraping her elbow on the way down. She hurried towards the house, keeping behind the shrubs on the right hand side, as sounds of smashing and chaos rang from the open back door.
She reached the back wall of the house, dropped to a crouch and crept below the nearest open window, where she dared to peep inside.
She saw Horatio staring at the broken blade of his sword in disbelief, a battered lampshade perched on his head at a jaunty angle like a boater hat. Josh staggered into view, holding a large copper saucepan, hair wild and clothes rumpled. She could make out a stylish room in the background, with a TV that cost more than a term’s fees.
“I’m not familiar with your fighting style, sir.” Horatio was stalling for time as he struggled to regain his poise. “It’s beyond chaotic.”
“I told you, if you don’t leave, I’m calling the police,” Josh shouted.
“But our business is unfinished,” Horatio continued, rounding the sofa. He glanced at a point behind Josh’s shoulder with a shocked expression and Josh fell for it, turning to look as the Rosa took the opportunity to step and thrust with what was left of the blade.
The dirty tactic would have worked, if a large white bird hadn’t flown into the room through the very window Cathy was using to spy, making Josh duck instinctively. The bird caught the blade’s swipe instead and the decapitated gull landed with a thud at his feet.
Horatio stared at the dead bird, aghast. “This is ridiculous. I have no idea which of the families are protecting you but–” He was cut off as Josh exploited the opportunity to swing the saucepan at the Rosa’s head. It connected with a terrible clang. The swordsman crumpled like a broken marionette leaving Josh white-lipped as the bloodied feathers settled at his feet.
“Holy crapola,” he said, dropping the saucepan.
Cathy was about to stand up and knock on the window, desperate to make sure he was OK and to speak to him one last time. She just wanted one kiss, one minute to say sorry, but then she heard the slam of the front door.
“I’m home!”
Josh rubbed the top of his head, feeling for what he thought was bird droppings, frowning when nothing was there. “I’m in here, Ca–” He shook his head. “Ella. I’m in the den, don’t freak out. Actually, wait there.”
He rushed out as Cathy turned away and dropped onto her backside, suddenly exhausted. She saw Tom peering over the wall, beckoning frantically. She didn’t want to move, she didn’t want to do anything. The only place she was going now was an elegant prison. Why walk towards it?
But then she imagined Josh taking her replacement into the living room and she didn’t want to be found in the garden by the rich bitch. She hauled herself up, picked her way back through the shrubs and Tom reached over the wall to pull her over.
“You stupid little–”
Cathy burst into tears and he pulled her into a hug, wrapping his arms around her and holding
her tight.
She sobbed into his coat until they heard a police siren. “We have to go, Cat,” he said and she nodded.
“I really love him.”
“I can see that now.” He kissed her forehead. “I’m sorry, Cat, I really am. It’s all over. We have to go home.”
14
Axon drove Max and the gargoyle to the other side of Bath, and parked the car just up the road from the Holburne Museum. It was a bright autumn day in Mundanus, so the gargoyle was hunkered down in the back seat of the large estate car Axon used to run his mundane errands.
Max looked back at the gargoyle, trying to get used to the formulae carved all over it and the medieval-style bracers it was now wearing. They were decorated with an elaborate design that made Max’s head ache.
“These things are itchy.” The gargoyle held up its wrists. “But I have to keep ’em on, apparently. Extra protection.”
“What from?”
“I dunno. Bad breath? Who cares? Everyone we ever knew is either dead or missing, there’s all kinds of dodgy stuff going on in London and the Sorcerer doesn’t give a rat’s arse, and you’re asking about these stupid itchy armbands?”
Max faced front again. “I haven’t forgotten about London, or the Chapter. But the Sorcerer is right; we do need to look into this.”
The gargoyle muttered something he couldn’t hear. Its grumpiness was like a bad smell filling the car and just as hard to ignore.
“Stay here,” he told it once the car’s engine was switched off.
“How long will you be, sir?” Axon asked.
“Less than half an hour.” Max struggled out of the car and onto his crutches.
He wanted to take a look at the mundane perimeter first, knowing that someone had broken into Lavandula’s Nether house after going through the museum grounds in Mundanus. The main gates were locked and a notice hung over the handles:
Closed – Apologies for Any Inconvenience.
He made his way round the railings until he reached the large wooden gates he knew were set into the wall. They had a new hasp-and-staple lock, fitted with a shiny padlock that he picked with little effort.
