by Helen Harper
Towering trees dotted the landscape, with foliage and leaf cover making many of the streets even darker than they would usually be at this time of night. More and more helicopters filled the sky; when we spotted a tank turning down one of the main thoroughfares, it was clear that the army was no longer waiting till dawn to make their move into the city.
‘Everyone stay calm,’ bellowed a tinny loudspeaker attached to the tank. ‘We are in control and there is nothing to worry about.’
I gave a loud, derisive snort. I understood what was going on and I knew that the British military was most definitely not in control. There was a great deal to worry about.
‘All current events are occurring only within the city of Manchester,’ the loudspeaker burbled. ‘Until the situation is resolved, all citizens must remain indoors unless it is not safe to do so. Due to flooding, the suburb of Burnage is being evacuated but other areas are deemed clear.’
I cycled round a massive sinkhole that had opened up smack-bang in the middle of the road. ‘Clear?’ I eyed the dark chasm, wrinkling my nose at the fetid stench rising from its depths.
‘They don’t know what to do,’ Morgan said quietly. ‘The humans like science, they like to be able to explain things and use logic to reason their way out of problems. There’s nothing logical about magic.’
‘There’s nothing logical about your brother either,’ Finn tossed over his shoulder.
‘He promised me that he would lay off the hocus pocus, darling,’ Julie said.
Finn’s expression was sour. ‘I wouldn’t trust him an inch. No promise of Rubus’s is worth a damn.’
Actually, I suspected that despite his blithe languor Rubus was as shaken by what was going on as the rest of us. Of course, he would use these events as further evidence that the power of the sphere needed to be unleashed so that all us Fey could travel back to Mag Mell as quickly as possible. But he must have finally started to realise what chaos that would incur.
‘What did Rubus mean, Julie?’ I called out. ‘When he said not to forget what he told you, what was he talking about?’
‘Oh, just some nonsensical acting tips,’ she said, taking one hand off the handlebars for a moment to wave it around and indicate that his words were worthless. ‘Honestly, I get that sort of ridiculousness all the time. Everyone thinks they have it in them to be the next Greta Garbo.’
Finn frowned. ‘Who’s Greta Garbo?’
‘Sorry, darling,’ she drawled. ‘I’m showing my age. Do you know, I met her once?’ She launched into a long tale which, unsurprisingly, involved copious amounts of gin.
I cast a quick glance in Morgan’s direction. His jaw was set and although his shoulders were loose, his knuckles were white as he clenched the handlebars of the bike. It couldn’t be easy facing your evil brother and begging him to be temperate whilst also trying to stop him from destroying the world.
I swerved slightly, narrowly missing some snaking tree roots that appeared from nowhere, and lowered my voice.
‘I don’t want to ruin the mood,’ I said chattily, ‘but I feel obliged to point out that you look like a circus bear on a tricycle.’ I wasn’t lying; although the Mobike was adult sized, it appeared pathetically small with Morgan’s large frame perched on top of it. He was all knees and elbows. That was nothing compared to Finn, of course, but Finn was distracting himself by focusing on Julie. Right now, Morgan had nothing but me to take his mind off things.
‘Does that make you the clown?’ he sent back.
I felt my insides relax slightly. ‘Don’t be daft. I’m obviously the ringmaster; Julie is the magician’s glamorous assistant; Finn is the clown. Any second now, he’s going to tip his front wheel into a pothole and do a massive somersault followed by a crash of cymbals.’
Morgan raised an eyebrow. ‘Have you ever even been to a circus?’
I shrugged. ‘How the hell do I know? I can’t remember.’ I tapped my temple. ‘But there are vast, hidden depths to my wondrous knowledge that even I can’t contemplate.’
Morgan didn’t smile. ‘You must be desperate to regain your memories.’
Strangely enough I wasn’t. Artemesia had told me that she was close to finding a potion that would resolve my amnesiac issues but I already knew everything I wanted to. I didn’t need to remember who I was before, not any longer. And I didn’t want a serious conversation with Morgan right now. What he needed was some light-hearted Madrona goodness, not heavy discussions about our souls.
‘I’m fabulous enough even without my memory,’ I crowed. ‘I mean, look at me! I’m cycling through a deserted city to sightsee in a cathedral whilst avoiding army tanks and arboreal mishaps, with a famous soap actress, a man who looks like he’s gone ten rounds in the boxing ring with a bin lorry, and the sexiest faery alive. Does it get any better?’
Morgan’s grip on the bike eased slightly. His eyes met mine and he said softly, ‘The company is indeed extraordinary.’
I smiled. Maybe I should deliberately crash my bike then I’d be forced to hop up behind Morgan. I could rub myself against his body, reach round and feel his muscles rippling underneath my fingers, bury my nose in his luxuriant, dark curls…
‘There’s the cathedral!’ Julie sang out.
Reluctantly, I ripped myself away from the image of Morgan and I riding stark naked on the same bicycle and peered ahead. I’d spotted the cathedral several times over the city rooftops but I couldn’t remember being close to it before. It was certainly an imposing structure, especially in the dead of night. From here, it didn’t appear as if any of the trees nearby had damaged it. Given the cathedral’s size, that was hardly surprising. I doubted if there was a single crazy, magical tree anywhere in the world that could damage it.
The four of us cycled up to the front entrance, dropped the Mobikes on the grassy verge and gazed up.
‘The clock has stopped,’ Finn said quietly.
We followed his gaze. He was right: the hands on the large clock on the east tower weren’t moving. Time was no longer cooperating with the city of Manchester. I thought guiltily of the times I’d manipulated time for my own gain, slowing down the seconds so I could get the upper hand over my opponents. Then I shrugged; what was done was done.
‘Where are the archives kept?’ I enquired.
Julie chewed on her bottom lip then pointed over to the left. ‘I’m pretty certain they’re near that small side chapel over there.’
Morgan nodded grimly. ‘At least we’ll be able to rummage around without being disturbed.’
I glanced at the others. ‘Well, let’s vamoose. We’ve got ourselves a dragon to find.’
We loped up the steps. It stood to reason that the heavy cathedral doors would be locked tight at this time of night to avoid the risk of drunken partygoers messing up the interior or, heavens forbid, the odd homeless person bedding down. Strangely, the door to the left was slightly ajar.
I paused, tilting my head and listening carefully. ‘There are people inside,’ I said. ‘Lots of them.’
We exchanged looks before I gently pushed the door open so we could peer inside. My ears hadn’t been deceiving me – and it wasn’t just one or two people inside the cathedral either; there were hundreds of them.
No one was speaking much, which was why we hadn’t heard them earlier. Most of them were sitting silently in the pews and contemplating their surroundings, hugging friends or praying quietly.
‘The church offers succour in times of need,’ Finn murmured. He reached for Julie’s hand and squeezed it. ‘And I suppose a lot of people imagine that what’s been happening is some sort of blight from God.’
Morgan’s mouth tightened. ‘We’ll enjoy a day or two of this. People will seek comfort and help but it won’t be long before their fear changes to something far uglier. Aggression. Vigilantism. If Artemesia doesn’t manage to disperse at least some of the residual magic soon, there’s going to be chaos.’
I squared my shoulders. ‘Then let’s get a bloody move on
before that happens.’
I slipped inside and looked around for a way to the smaller chapel where Julie reckoned the archives were. Spotting a likely looking door, I marched towards it. None of the stricken worshippers so much as glanced in my direction.
I opened the door and gazed into the darkness within. ‘Is this right, Julie?’ I asked.
When there was no immediate answer I turned and realised, somewhat belatedly, that I was alone. Honestly. One would expect one’s sidekicks to at least try and keep up.
Spinning round, I headed back. Julie was doubled over, with Finn’s arm wrapped around her. Morgan was looking on grimly.
‘What’s wrong?’ I asked, alarmed.
‘She doesn’t feel well,’ Finn said, standing over her slight frame protectively. He could spread his legs all he wanted; that wasn’t going to stop any kind of tummy bug.
Morgan licked his lips. ‘Can you get her back home? Now we know where the archives are, Maddy and I will find the others and help them to continue looking. Julie should rest.’
Finn looked even more concerned about her than he normally did. He nodded and carefully helped her back to where we’d left the bikes. Morgan and I watched them go.
‘It’s affecting her badly, isn’t it?’ I said. ‘She’s a vampire. She’s never really had any real powers. These strange magic surges aren’t just disturbing the rain and the trees and the animals, they’re disturbing her too.’
Grimacing, Morgan turned to me. ‘That would be my guess, too. It can’t be a coincidence that she was struck down right on the steps of a holy building.’
‘She told me she’s never had a problem with things like this before. I don’t think she was lying.’
‘No,’ he agreed. ‘Not then. But she’s changing now.’
‘I tried to speak to Finn about it but he refused to listen.’
Morgan sighed. ‘That’s understandable. He’s taken all the love he felt for his brothers and given it to Julie. I dread to think what will become of him if something happens to her.’
‘You mean something other than turning all fangy and trying to drink our blood?’
He shot me a look. ‘We’re not there yet.’
‘Yet being the operative word,’ I muttered. ‘Come on. We can’t worry about her now.’
Morgan nodded. From the look in his green eyes, however, he was just as concerned about Julie as I was.
***
Fortunately we didn’t have to waste much time searching for the archives. The sound of the other people bickering reached our ears long before we reached them.
‘Just look in that box,’ Timmons was saying.
‘The dust is getting in my eyes,’ Jodie complained. ‘I’m not a Fey, remember? It’s harder for me. I possess human frailties.’
‘Well, put those human frailties to good use,’ he said. ‘Even Opulus is doing his best.’
There was a chink of light underneath one of the doors. Morgan headed for it with me barely a step behind. ‘I take it,’ he said drily, ‘that you’ve not found anything yet.’
Their faces brightened immediately. It was no wonder they were glad of the distraction: there were fusty and musty papers scattered all over the room.
‘What happened?’ Jodie asked. ‘Did you see Rubus?’
‘We did. He said he’ll lay off magic for now.’
Timmons exhaled. ‘Do you think he actually will?’
‘We’ll have to hope so,’ I said grimly. ‘Did you see what happened to the trees?’
‘We were inside at the time. We heard enough though.’
Jodie pouted. ‘I didn’t. I don’t have clever faery ears like you lot.’ She gave Timmons a sour glance. ‘Or eyes.’
He sighed in exasperation and I regarded the pair of them with mild amusement. Timmons loved it here; he probably wished he were wholly human as much as Jodie seemed to wish she were wholly Fey. Naturally both of them probably wished they were more like me. Poor them.
‘Did Arty manage to conjure up that potion?’ Morgan asked.
From the far corner, Opulus grunted. His eyes remained red-rimmed but, of the three of them, he appeared to be doing the best job of looking for evidence of nearby dragons. ‘She did. We deemed it best not to use it unless we had to. She said that most of the magic is bound up in the ingredients, so there shouldn’t be a problem using it and releasing more into the ether. But we wanted to wait, just in case.’
In case they were blamed for the end of the world. Surprisingly, that was a sentiment I could get behind. ‘How long have you been here?’ I asked.
‘A couple of hours. We did find reference to a beast who could control fire in one old book—’ Jodie began.
‘I found that,’ Timmons interrupted.
She rolled her eyes. ‘Whatever. It was pointless anyway. It turned out to be nothing more than a salamander transported here by some wandering Crusader in the Middle Ages.’
‘We need help,’ Opulus said flatly.
I stretched out my arms. ‘Never fear! The Madhatter is here!’
This time all of them rolled their eyes. I beamed.
Spotting a small vial sitting on top of a dusty shelf, I edged round Morgan and the teetering piles of paper and grabbed it. ‘Is this the potion?’
Jodie and Timmons nodded. I raised an eyebrow in Morgan’s direction. ‘It’s a calculated risk,’ I said. ‘The army is already starting to evacuate people. I reckon there are only hours – if that – before looting starts. We need to tie up the sphere so that we can focus on other problems. Much longer and there won’t be any city left to save.’
‘I thought the army was only evacuating Burnage,’ Timmons said.
I shrugged. ‘That’s what they said. But they’ll be trying to keep things orderly and prevent a mass panic, so they’ll be doing it in stages to stop the roads from getting clogged up. I bet that by this time tomorrow, Manchester will be a ghost town.’
Timmons looked pained. ‘My hotel guests have already cleared out. I don’t want to have to relocate.’
I smiled at him. ‘That’s why we’re doing this – to stop all faeries from relocating unnecessarily.’ I unstoppered the vial and took a deep sniff. ‘It smells innocuous enough. Shall we?’
Jodie waved a hand around the messy room. ‘Anything’s better than what we’re already doing.’
Morgan looked unhappy. ‘If Arty thinks there’s a chance that using the potion will disperse more magical residue, maybe we should do this the hard way instead.’
‘They’ve been doing this the hard way,’ I pointed out. ‘All it’s got them is at each other’s throats. We don’t have the time to waste.’
‘All the same…’
I ignored him and raised the vial to my lips, glugging it down in one long mouthful.
‘You’re not supposed to drink it, Maddy!’
I made a face. ‘I can see why. It tastes horrible.’
‘It’s supposed to be scattered around the room!’
‘And instead it’s scattered around my body. It will help contain the magic and prevent more residue from leaking out.’ Maybe. What the hell did I know? It had seemed like a good idea at the time.
Jodie tutted loudly. ‘Great,’ she said. ‘Just great. Now we’ve lost the only chance of finding the information we need. We’ll have to go back to Artemesia and get her to make some more. Except that she’s desperately busy trying to stop more magic build-up from destroying the city. She doesn’t have time to take a break to help us save the world.’
There was definitely something incongruous about Jodie’s statements but I couldn’t concentrate. I pursed my lips. My stomach was starting to feel very strange, churning in a most peculiar fashion. My vision was also going blurry at the edges. I was going to be sick; I was definitely going to be sick.
‘Maddy!’ Morgan said, obviously alarmed.
I turned towards him. ‘Wh – what?’ Even to my own ears, my voice sounded slurred and slow.
‘Are you alright
?’
‘Fine,’ I mumbled. ‘I’m perfectly fine. I just need to…’
It all came gushing out before I could stop it, a stream of greenish vomit that sprayed from my mouth. Jodie screamed and scrambled to her feet, darting out of the way. Even Opulus seemed alarmed.
I wiped my mouth with the back of my hand and let out a loud burp. ‘That’s better.’ I blinked a few times and my vision returned to normal.
Morgan rounded on me. ‘You never ever drink or eat anything like that again,’ he commanded. ‘It could do untold damage.’
I pointed at the vomit spatters. ‘Unfortunately,’ I said, ‘I rather think it already has.’
‘So much for the Madhatter,’ Jodie said. ‘Now it’s not just dust and mountains of paper to get through. It’s the contents of her stupid stomach.’
I had to admit that they weren’t pleasant. The room was already airless; now it was airless and filled with sour stench of my half-digested dinner. I peered round. I supposed I should make some effort at cleaning up.
The worst of the sick was on a pile of old books lying against a rickety metal shelving unit. I stumbled over and started wiping the green puke off with the hem of my T-shirt. It had already been soaked and slimed and burnt and ripped today; a little intestinal fluid was unlikely to do it any more harm.
I patted ineffectually at the front cover of the first book. ‘The Parish Records for Diggle,’ I said, reading aloud as the words gradually became visible. ‘It sounds like a children’s TV show, not an actual place.’ I flipped open the first pages. ‘May 12th, 1467 Baptism Richard Stiff.’ I looked up at the others. ‘Who on earth thinks it’s a good idea to name their child Dick Stiff? Dick Stiff from Diggle.’ I shook my head. ‘Poor arsebadger.’
I flicked another page. ‘George Lung. Blimey. Do you think he was mates with Dick Stiff and Willie Throat and Billy Nose and Boris Arse?’
