by Kit Hallows
“I will.”
“Here,” Erland reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, golden skinned apple. “For your journey back.”
“Where should I eat it?”
“Climb the hill opposite to the one you arrived on. There’s an arch of marble at its crest. Eat the apple there and you'll be transported back to a safe room within the heart of the city. Of course, you’ll be sound sleep the moment you cross but frankly you look like you need it. And don’t worry, you’ll be alright there, the place is secure.” Erland held his hand out and I shook it. “I’ll be back soon, Morgan. And once I am…” he smiled, “I can get out of this drab robe and into some decent clothes.”
“Yeah, I’m not sure beige is your color.” We said goodbye and I left the temple, tucking the dagger into my waistband and the apple into my pocket as I went. The fae villagers snubbed me as I headed out toward the vast swath of bluebells.
I followed the chalk path and took the fork that led to the hill across from the one where I'd awoken. As I climbed, the orange sky was almost too striking to behold.
After a mile or so I found the marble arch and pulled the apple from my pocket, gave Faery one last glance for posterity, and took a bite.
31
I woke to find myself… in a comfortable leather office chair overlooking a pristine walnut desk. Tidy stacks of papers rested under a green reading lamp and a small plate of cookies sat next to a glass of water tagged with a yellow sticky note that read;
‘Help yourself.’
Bookcases crammed with stuffy-looking books lined the walls. I glanced over the embossed gold titles, they appeared to be a collection of reference books whose subject matter was centered around laws and legislation. Scant light filtered in from the edges of the broad window behind me so I slipped the blinds apart. I was right in the heart of the city, just as Erland had said. It was early, but the streets were beginning to brim with a quiet business-like bustle beneath the same rainy slate-grey skies that were fast becoming routine. I turned back to check the time; it was seven thirty am.
I glanced down as I patted my pockets to make sure I had everything.
Sword, check. mhudambe dagger, check. Gun, no. And no phone or bag of tricks. They were still lying in the state park where any blinkered hiker could find them. It worried me for a moment but, while Osbert might be murderous, he was a professional. So I was pretty sure he’d have had my things whisked away and plunked back into the hands of the Organization by now. Thankfully I had a back-up phone at home and the rest of the stuff could be replaced, with the pull of a few strings.
I opened the office door and peered out into a short corridor. At the end, clutching a heavy book in his hand, was a small man in a waistcoat and pin-striped trousers. He glanced my way and gave a brief, friendly smile. “I hope you don’t mind that I moved you,” he said. “For some reason you arrived in our supply closet.” He peered at the watch on his wrist. “Thankfully no one else is pathetic enough to be here at this time in the morning, so no one witnessed it.”
“Thank you,” I said. My head was still light from the faerie fruit, as well as the magic I’d borrowed. “I appreciate it.”
“Is Erland okay?”
“Yes, he’s on the mend. You know him?”
“Oh yes, we’re old friends. We share a tailor.” The man smiled again. “Not to be pushy, but some of the others will be arriving soon. So if you don’t mind…”
“Consider me gone. And thank you.”
“Anytime.” He nodded and returned to his book, tracing his finger across the page as he mumbled the words to himself.
I emerged on the street amid a squall of rain that seemed to find every hole and tear in my clothes. My boots were still caked with mud from the marshes, my sword clanked by my side and my coat was spattered with blood and who knew what else. To say I felt conspicuous would have been a huge understatement.
Cabs flew by and I tried to flag one down but the driver glanced me over and sped off, so I dashed along in a half walk, half run through the half soaked city.
I raced up the stairs past Mrs. Fitz’s tidy winter-readied garden, grabbed the spare key from under the mat and let myself in. The hallway was filled with quiet early morning gloom. I walked softly up the stairs, intending to creep past Mrs. Fitz’s door, but it flew open before I’d even reached it, throwing warm light across the carpet.
“Good morning, Mr. Rook,” Mrs. Fitz said, before throwing a towel to me. “I saw you scurrying across the street, like a drowning rat.”
“You’re up early,” I said as I dabbed the rain from my face and neck.
“Yes.” She held up the small notebook she was clutching in her hand. “I’ve been tracking them.”
“Them?”
“The cats. I want to know where each and every one of the furry little bastards is coming from.”
“You’re still having problems?”
“Always, Mr. Rook. Always. And there seems to be even more of them this year. There’s been at least five new ones over the last month alone. They try to hide, but I know they’re there. Under cars, bushes and lampposts. Watching.” She gave a tired smile and shook her head. “You must think I’m a mad old thing!”
“Not at all. Everyone has a fear of something.”
“And what’s your fear, Mr. Rook?”
In that moment my biggest fear was of Endersley and Stroud achieving their objectives. Not that I could say it. I shrugged. “I’m not so keen on spiders.”
Mrs. Fitz gave me a long, searching look before grasping my wrist. “I know you have your secrets, dear. We all do. And I know you don’t work in insurance, and those two young people staying with you are not in the real estate business. I haven't a clue what any of you are up to, and I couldn’t care less. Because,” her eyes twinkled, and she smiled, “I know you’re a force of light.” She patted her hand against her chest. “I feel it in here. You’re good, but the world out there,” she glanced downstairs, “is brimming with evil. And I don’t just mean the cats.” She looked up at me and sighed. “I saw him again, in my dream…”
“Saw who?”
“The man in the shadows. The man with the sadness and desolation in his eyes. I told you about him before. This time he was alone in an empty city. It was like a hurricane had torn through it and taken every living soul.” Mrs. Fitz shook her head. “It was ghastly. Such bleakness, such wanton destruction and anger. But then you appeared… just you and him standing before one another. I knew you were stronger than him but you’d been betrayed, so you were weak and in pain. And then,” her eyes glistened, and she wiped them quickly with the back of her hand, “and then he sent wolves after you. Horrible, grey beasts with snarling teeth and burning eyes. They chased you for miles and miles, they ran you ragged.” A single tear fell from Mrs. Fitz’s eye and she clasped my wrist with both hands. “I’m sorry, Mr. Rook. It’s probably just my overactive imagination, but it was terrible. Just terrible.”
“I appreciate your concern,” I said, not knowing what else to say. “But I’ll be fine. I have good people around me. Including the best landlady there ever was.”
Mrs. Fitz smiled and the crows feet by her eyes danced. “I’m a cranky old lunatic, and we both know it. But yes, I suppose I am your landlady, although I’d let you live here for nothing, Mr. Rook. If it came to it. Because I hold you very dear. Now,” she clutched her notebook, “ I must get back to work; someone’s got to keep track of those furry little buggers.”
“Thank you.” I said and handed her back her towel.
“Anytime,” she said, before turning and softly closing her door.
I stood on the landing for a moment, my senses reeling. Her dreams had always left me feeling unsettled. Mostly because more than a few had come to pass. But this one… this one really had me rattled. And it wasn’t the idea of facing down Stroud or dealing with a pack of feral wolves. No, it was the betrayal.
That was the part that had sunk its teeth right into me.<
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32
I continued up the stairs and stopped outside my apartment. The television was on, so someone was home. I knocked on the door and a moment later Samuel answered, his pipe clamped to his lips. “You came back then,” he said, ushering me inside.
“How long have I been gone?”
“Since yesterday afternoon. Why?” Samuel went over to the coffeemaker and filled a cup, before pressing it into my hand.
“Because I took a trip to the lands of Faery, and I have no idea how long I was gone for.”
“Faery?” Samuel smiled. “Sounds like an adventure, do tell.”
“I will. Where’s Astrid?”
“Out. She’s following up on a possible sighting of Endersley. We’re not expecting it will amount to much. We left our number with a few of the people we talked to in the magical quarter, mostly keepers at inns and taverns. Astrid said the caller sounded odd, possibly drunk, hence our pessimism. But anyway, you were about to fill me in on that hugely important thing. The one that made you tear yourself away from our company and scuttle off to Faery.”
“Indeed.” I sat back in my chair, took a sip of coffee, and began my tale.
“Interesting,” Samuel said, as I finished my story. “You have the blade with you now?”
I felt a strange sense of resistance as I pulled it out from under my coat and handed it to him. He slipped it from its sheath and held it to the light. “Nasty,” he said. “Can you feel it?”
“Feel what?”
“The darkness. This is a wicked implement, Morgan.” He handed it back to me. “Be careful with it.”
“You’re the second person that’s said that to me.” I laid it on the armrest, planning to quietly hide it away as soon as I got the chance.
“So now what?”
“I’ve got to check in with Haskins, see if there’s been any more incidents.”
“There’s been nothing on the television,” Samuel said.
“The television’s about the last place to go for news,” I said. “Anyway, after I've talked to Haskins we should find Astrid and stock up on weapons and crystals. I need a new bag of tricks too.” I checked the time. “The Electric Video Club opens at ten. If we get there on the dot, I should be able to get in and out before any agents turn up. In theory at least.”
“So we’re visiting the famous armory. Exciting stuff.”
“Yup, and you’ll get to meet a good friend of mine. I think you’ll like him. You two have a lot in common, and not just the beard. Just give me a moment to freshen up and we’ll go.”
“Freshen up? Come on, Morgie, we’re only going out to find good old Astrid.” Samuel winked at me.
I shook my head, which suddenly felt like it was twice its normal size and full of radiators. “I…”
“Relax,” Samuel said. “She likes you, you like her….”
“And you’re okay….”
“Me?” Samuel asked. “I see Astrid the way I see you. We’re allies. Companions. Soldiers. You're like my brother and sister. You’re the sister and she’s the brother, in case you wondered.” He grinned as he began to stack his pipe once more. “I’d be pleased to see the pair of you happy. The gods know it’s been an age since Astrid’s had much to smile about. Hence the frosty demeanor. But maybe it’s right to hold back, for now. You know, until…” he tailed off awkwardly.
“Until the job’s done. Stroud and Endersley,” I said. Clearly Samuel felt a little awkward saying so, but I got it, and I had the sense Astrid did too. “No distractions until we’re finished.”
“Exactly,” Samuel said. “Now go freshen up tough guy.” He lit his pipe, slid the window open, and stuck his head out. “Morning ladies,” he said as two petite Siamese cats slipped past him. I petted them and dished out some tuna, and then I went for the shower I’d been looking forward to for what felt like days.
We met Astrid outside Rathbones; a shop that specialized in rare and unusual magical artifacts. She was sitting on a bench, a coffee in her hand and a sour expression on her face.
“Everything okay?” I asked as we walked up.
“He never showed. It was a waste of time.” Her features softened as she glanced my way. “Everything okay with you?”
I gave her the highlights of my time in Faery and was about to suggest a visit to the armory when something shoved past my leg. I looked down as an imp, swaddled in two coats and a porkpie hat, grabbed the edge of the bench, tried to pull himself up and failed, falling back on his ass.
“Don’t you fucking dare!” he snarled as Samuel stooped to help him.
“Otto?” Astrid asked, as the imp gripped the bench once more and clambered up.
“I am he. And time is money. So let’sss talk, sugar tits.”
“What did you call me?” Astrid gasped in surprise.
“Watch it, Otto” I said. “Have a little respect. And get to the point. You’ve kept her waiting long enough.” My last encounter with pickled imps had been riddled with similar frustration and insults and we didn’t have time for any crap. Plus, brokering in half truths was a well known pastime for these habitual drunkards.
“Right,” Otto glared my way. “I’ll not be hearing another word from you, or your bearded boyfriend. I’m talking to the lady, and if ssshe deigns to tolerate your company while we trade words and coin, that’sss on her.” Otto turned to Astrid. “First up, money.”
“Tell me about Endersley, you’ll be paid afterwards. That’s how I do business.” Astrid held his gaze until finally he glanced away.
“Right. You’re looking for Endersssley,” the imp said. “I’ve seen him. Standing there as brazen as a pair of bright red buttocks.” He held his hands up and shook them, like he was doing jazz hands. “He had claws as long as kitchen knives, and eyes that could burn you in half. And then half again!”
“Quarters?” Samuel asked.
“Don’t you go lording it up with me, fella,” Otto growled, “I’m telling you what I saw.” He half smiled at Astrid, who looked about ready to break his nose. “And he had a cane. Or it could have been a rowdy black serpent!”
Astrid stood, threw her cup into the trash, and turned back to Otto. “You wasted my time.”
“Didn’t. Maybe I might have overstated a few details, but I can tell you where he is this very moment. But first the bacon.”
“Bacon?” Samuel seemed genuinely baffled.
“Beans, bones, blue buggering cheese. Moolah, chits, clams!” Otto screamed. “I didn’t come out here for charity you fucks!”
I handed him a five to shut him up. “Get yourself a hot drink. Preferably something that isn’t laced with whiskey.”
We began to walk away as Otto screamed out, “Oh you can go if you want. But if you do, I won’t tell you where his castle is. Horrible place. Black as petrified dung and twice as high as a buttered…”
“Sorry about that,” I said to Astrid. “I would have warned you if I’d known the so-called informant was an imp.”
She shrugged and then chuckled deeply, and I realized I’d never heard her laugh so hard before. “Sugar tits,” she said. “It was pretty funny.”
Astrid and Samuel cloaked themselves as we left the magical quarter and I wished I could do the same with as much ease. Being out in the city was making me feel jittery and I was half expecting to find agents around every corner. Ebomee on a rooftop, Osbert in an alley, and Rhymes… anywhere and everywhere. I shivered as I thought of him. If push came to shove, and I was certain it probably would, I was going to enjoy putting a bullet right between his burning eyes.
We were about a block from the Electric Video Club when a car horn blared in the street beside me. I turned to find a beat up old BMW cutting off another vehicle. Its windows were tinted but the passenger door was ajar and I caught a glimpse of wild ash-grey hair and crazed eyes. The magician from the bank.
The car swerved out onto the other side of the road and cut back in again as it screeched to a stop outside the video shop.
I froze as the doors flew open and three men in suits and shades got out. All of them were huge and bald, which was an irony because I caught a glimpse below their cloaks and saw that they were werewolves. Werewolves just on the verge of shifting.
The passenger door swung open and the magician jumped out, his staff in hand. He stood on the sidewalk and stared down the blinkereds streaming toward him and they broke like a parting sea and streamed around him.
I fastened my coat up as I considered my last confrontation with him, and the torrents of fire he’d unleashed.
“Problem?” Samuel asked, jarring me from my thoughts.
“Yeah,” I said. “Big time.”
33
I ran to the Electric Video Club’s grimy storefront and peered through the window. All I could see was gloom, which meant Madhav hadn’t even had a chance to switch the lights on before the magician and his thugs had stormed in. I glanced back at their getaway car. “You up for slashing some tires?” I asked Astrid.
She nodded, walked to the car, pulled her dagger and there was a hiss as the BMW slumped to the ground. Somehow she’d managed to make her actions look entirely reasonable and the passing blinkereds hurried by without a second glance.
Samuel raised his eyebrows and nodded for us to join him as he slipped the shop door open, without disturbing the bells above the door. Analogue security for an analogue store.
His movements were swift and fluid as he flitted inside. I crept in behind him with Astrid at my back.
The counter that sat dead ahead was obscured by the three werewolves. They were huge, slabs of fur and muscle and I could smell their fetid breath from where I stood. The magician was at their side, with the tip of his staff poised under Madhav’s chin. “Open the door, boy. Now,” he said.
Madhav’s eyes flashed toward me and back to the magician. “There’s no door to open. Other than the one you just came through.”
