Vowed

by Liz de Jager

  ‘I’m kidding. Geez, woman, I just want to go and put the heating on in the kitchen. I don’t know about you, but I’m actually cold.’

  ‘I’m also hungry,’ I tell him, looking at my watch, pretending nonchalance. Breakfast seems a very long time ago. ‘What have you got to eat around here?’

  ‘Not sure. We can order something in.’ He moves past me and into the kitchen. He rummages in a drawer and finds take-away menus. ‘Choose something.’

  While I flick through the leaflets he mutters something darkly about the boiler but seconds later it starts humming happily to itself.

  ‘I don’t really care what we eat, as long as we eat a lot of it. I am so hungry I can’t think any more.’

  I glance to where he’s leaning against the oven with his arms crossed. He looks awkward now, I realize, in this place. Before this was where he lived and he liked it. Now he seems to be a stranger here.

  ‘Indian?’ I say, holding up a handful of leaflets. ‘We’re right on the doorstep of Brick Lane. We can’t not have Indian food.’

  ‘As you wish,’ he says, waving his hand negligently. His wallet, lying next to the microwave, twitches then flies straight at me. I duck, letting out a yelp, and it slams into the back of the couch with a whump.

  ‘Shit!’ Dante’s by my side, checking me over for wounds before looking at his wallet. ‘Did I just do that?’

  ‘I’m fine, don’t worry, and yes, I think you just tried to knock me unconscious with your wallet.’

  ‘How? Can you explain that?’

  I shrug. ‘That’s not really how my magic works. I can lay down magics, I can See weird things, I can sort of step sideways and see time move past, but I can’t animate objects the way you just did.’ I prod his shoulder with a finger. ‘Try it again.’

  ‘Okay.’

  For ages nothing happens but then I feel a shift in the air and the entire couch lifts three feet in the air, moves a foot sideways, knocking into the small table and sending it tumbling over, before crashing back down again.

  ‘Uh.’ I look at him doubtfully. ‘Were you trying to do that?’

  ‘No. I was trying to move my wallet again.’

  ‘Oops.’

  Otherwhere, the Tower at the End of the World

  Once more the dream crept up on him. What alarmed him was that it wasn’t night and he wasn’t asleep. He sat in his study at the top of the tower, overlooking the cascading waterfalls in the distance, a treatise on magic and how the Frontier and Otherwhere were linked open before him.

  Kit ducked into the rubble-strewn room and her gaze met his. Her smile lit her face and she breathed his name.

  ‘I’ve been looking for you,’ she said, her tone light, but there were definite signs of worry on her face.

  He couldn’t help himself. He reached out and drew her to him. She hesitated at first before resting against him, her arms curling around his neck as she hugged him tight.

  ‘I’m glad you found me,’ he said and it was the truth. How he missed the clean smell of her, her ever-changing moods reflected in her hazel eyes, how she fitted perfectly against him.

  ‘Thorn, there’s danger here.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘You must be careful.’

  ‘The danger is not aimed at me, but at you.’ It was the truth. He could sense the growing menace deep within the abandoned derelict palace. ‘You should leave. This is none of your concern.’

  ‘It is.’ She made an effort to untangle herself from him and he felt the pang of loss the second she moved. ‘They have to be helped. I’m the only one who can help them.’

  ‘Why does it have to be you?’

  There’s the sound of something heavy moving nearby and Kit edged further away from him, her ever-present sword drawn smoothly and ready for attack.

  ‘Thorn?’

  The voice did not belong in his dreams. He shifted, irritated that it dared intrude on this stolen moment.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  He blinked slowly, watching Odalis’s features swim into view. ‘Memorizing,’ he said without missing a beat. ‘The treatise.’ His hand dropped onto the pages before him. ‘I didn’t realize before how closely the two worlds were connected.’

  Odalis gave him a flinty look but nodded. ‘The relationship is one of symbiosis. What happens in the Fae Otherwhere affects the human Frontier and vice versa. The witches from the Frontier have a saying: as above, so below. I do not think they realize how apt it truly is.’

  ‘Have you come to ask me something?’ he asked, watching how her mouth tightened. She was not an unattractive woman but her stern demeanour and haughty manner made her an unappealing tutor and unpleasant to be around. Not for the first time he wondered if his father deliberately sought out the most miserable person to tutor him in his new role. He knew his thoughts were uncharitable, but thus far she’d not done more than push book upon countless book at him. Then question him for hours and make him practise scrying until headaches debilitated him. Occasionally they would practise magic and he would be required to sense what kind of an attack she was about to launch at him. He got the feeling she was as unimpressed with him as he was with her, but that she was doing this as her duty to Aelfric.

  ‘A messenger came today: there is to be a ball to celebrate the winter solstice. We have been invited.’

  ‘Us? You mean both of us?’

  ‘Correct. Your father has made it clear that your presence will be required. He has the dragon lords from Chin coming and the Empress of the Rus has agreed to travel all that way.’

  Thorn raised an eyebrow. ‘I’m sure my father knows what he’s doing – inviting dignitaries from all over the Otherwhere so soon after his brother’s attempt to destroy his kingdom.’

  Odalis made an impatient gesture at his disapproving tone. ‘Don’t be stupid, boy. You know he wants to show you off. You’ve become a key part of his diplomatic relations with the rulers of the Otherwhere. The Empress is even bringing her granddaughter with a view to you two becoming betrothed.’

  Had Thorn not been sitting he would have staggered. As it was, his hands curled into the pages of the book in front of him and he slowly stood up.

  ‘I’m not sure I believe you.’

  ‘Believe what you will. You will hear proof of his plans at the ball, I’m sure.’

  Without waiting to be dismissed, Thorn slammed the book shut, tucked it beneath his arm and left the study. He walked to his room, ignoring the surprise of the servant tidying his quarters, and flung the book against the wall. The tray with the goblet and silver jug followed suit. Next he kicked the small table over. In the distance thunder rumbled and dark clouds scudded across the sun.

  ‘Get my horse,’ he snarled at the startled servant, who watched him with pity rather than fear. ‘Now!’

  The man fled the room as if the hounds were after him.

  Within half an hour Thorn strode into the stables and accepted the bridle from the worried-looking stable boy.

  ‘Sir, there’s a storm brewing.’

  ‘I know.’ He swung up onto the horse’s back and clicked his tongue. The stallion surged beneath him and he was soon lost amid the swaying branches of the forest surrounding the tower.

  Chapter Forty-Three

  The drive to Dulwich takes a long time. It’s been raining for most of the day and there are snarl-ups along the route. Dante’s dressed warmly against the cold but also against the iron and steel in the car and I have the dubious honour of driving us. I’ve put on the radio to kill the awkward silence that’s filled the car.

  The way Dante’s holding himself, away from the car door and slightly rigid, reminds me of the way Thorn sat when we drove up to London and then Scotland just a few months ago. The unexpected memory leaves a pang in my chest and I swallow against the upswell of emotion. With Thorn, even though we floundered for a bit, we had a clear mission to work towards. We needed to get him home and help his family regain Alba’s throne. This involved pre
venting his uncle Eadric from successfully opening a gateway to another realm to bring about the return of the imprisoned Elder Gods. Easy. (My ass.) But we did it. And then he left. And I stayed behind. And now I’ve got his long-lost (hidden) cousin working with me as a partner and I have so many questions.

  Is Dante really Eadric’s son? And if so, why hide him here? Surely he had all the world to hide him in? Why did he choose the UK? Not just that, but where is Dante’s mum? Was she okay with her son being taken? And even if she’d died, though I really hoped she hadn’t, where was her family? Didn’t they have a say when Dante was taken? Or were they part of the conspiracy to hide him? And why hide him, anyway? Was it instigated by Eadric or done without his knowledge? Whatever glamour hid Dante, lasting from when he was a baby to adulthood, must have been cast by someone powerful indeed.

  Changelings, as far as my understanding goes, are usually found out as young children because they don’t fit in with the humans who are supposed to care for them. I’ve read Katharine Briggs’s books and know how badly children were treated in the past when they were suspected of being left by the faeries. The suspect child would be burned with hot pokers or left out and exposed to the elements. This even happened to normal kids with disabilities and not that long ago either, which makes it sadder still.

  ‘Dante, do you have someone in your life that you see pretty frequently?’

  ‘Apart from my parents?’ He shakes his head. ‘Not really. I’ve not seen some of my mates for a few years now. We drifted apart after that night when I saw the SDI guy take down a monster. They all thought I’d lost it, wouldn’t believe me when I told them. They thought I was drugged out of my mind. Even my girlfriend left me. She didn’t want to hang out with a crazy boy who her mates thought was weird.’

  ‘Seriously? That’s awful.’

  ‘I know, poor me, right? But them shutting me out, if you can call it that, didn’t come as a big surprise. I mean, I wasn’t a nice guy, Kit. I blamed myself for my baby sister being taken. I was supposed to look after her when we went to the park. And I didn’t so some evil bastard took her, killed her and left her body for a farmer to find. So, yeah, I drank, and smoked and gave my parents hell. I did martial arts to please my dad and taught those kids because that’s what he wanted. And I enjoyed it, but I wasn’t nice about doing it. The local cops knew me and would always just happen to find me hanging out with my mates, then pull me aside, giving me warnings. They respected my dad because he was army and good friends with some of them. I had a whole network of people who cared about me and all I wanted to do was see it burn. Until that night. When I saw the monster.’ He twists in his seat slightly so he can look at me. ‘I knew I had to do something, to stop it. I’d never felt sure of anything like it before. And afterwards, when I tried explaining it to my mates, they thought I’d taken it too far – that the weed we’d smoked earlier that afternoon had fried my brain.’

  ‘What did you do?’

  ‘I shut myself in my room and I researched the HMDSDI. I became obsessed. My grades went through the roof at school and I applied for extra classes to fill the afternoons when I wasn’t teaching at the dojo. My dad was so happy, and my mum too. It feels awful to admit it but I loved seeing how they came to love me all over again because I’d been such an awful person to them and myself for so long. They were always proud, so they said, but now I could see it in their faces and in everything they did. And it felt good.’

  ‘So you went from bad boy to swot? Usually it’s the other way around.’

  ‘Ha, didn’t think about that.’

  ‘Is this when you got your tattoo?’

  ‘It was before. I know I told Diane I was sixteen when I got my tat, but I was younger even. I turned fifteen and couldn’t think of any other way to make me feel like me. I forged my dad’s signature and walked into a tattoo parlour in Bristol and the guy did it in one sitting.’

  ‘I don’t know what that means,’ I admit.

  ‘Usually, with elaborate tattoos like mine, you have it done over a few sittings. Three, maybe four. Usually it’s a time thing, but also a pain thing.’

  ‘And yours was done in one sitting? Did it hurt?’

  ‘Honestly? I think it did, I assume I did, but mostly I can’t remember. I remember walking in and talking to the guy about my design. I showed him a few pictures of things I liked. He sat down for a few minutes and sketched something out. It looked amazing, like it was alive. I loved it and handed over the cash. He sat me down, asked me about my pain threshold and I explained that I did martial arts and my dad taught me pain was all in the mind.’

  ‘How long did it take?’

  ‘I don’t know. I can’t remember. Time went weird while I was there. I walked in when it was dark and I left when it was dark.’

  ‘And it never bothered you? Losing that time?’

  ‘No. I was just so happy with my new ink. I loved it. I walked around Bristol for hours, feeling high, feeling like me for the first time ever.’

  ‘What did your parents say when they saw it?’

  ‘My mum went mental, as you can imagine. She spent a whole afternoon crying. But then she came out and looked at it properly and said she would have been happier with just a I Heart Mum tattoo. My dad looked at it, gave me a beer and grounded me for a month except for working in the dojo. He made me train non-stop that month, then told me the next time I did something that stupid, without talking to him first, he’d put me in traction.’

  My eyebrows shoot up my forehead. ‘Was he serious?’

  ‘Possibly. But then he got his tats whilst he was in the army when he wasn’t much older than me, so he had no real room to talk.’

  ‘Do you miss them?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Do you think they know how different you really are?’

  ‘No.’ He laughs. ‘If it was a question of either me or Emily being weird, she’d be the one. She was this tiny fragile-looking thing, but, boy, she had a will of steel.’ His breath catches. ‘I really miss her so much. I miss the possibility of her. She was clever and sweet, but she was also sarcastic and actually a little bit wicked – although you’d never guess.’

  ‘Sounds like my cousin Megan. She looks cute and harmless, you know? No one ever sees how tough she is or spots the grease and dirt under her nails.’

  ‘And what do you think you look like?’ he teases. ‘All six foot seven of you? All those tattoos and piercings. You scare little children and grannies alike.’

  ‘Oh funny. I know what I look like, I’m not fishing for compliments or complaints. I think people look at me and they see a girl who’s capable. No one will rush to my aid if I need help with – I don’t know – changing a tyre or something. Not in the same way they’d help Megan. Even if she can strip a car down around a flat tyre, then build it back up again, and somehow it’s a better car.’

  Dante narrows his dark eyes and looks at me. ‘When I look at you, Kit Blackhart, I see a strong, independent, stubborn young woman who intrigues me. You’re intelligent, funny and, when you try, you’re actually very charming. You don’t take crap from anyone. You do what you think is best and have this moral compass that makes me feel safe.’ He lifts his hands in surrender when I scowl at him. ‘No, seriously. I don’t know why. I just know that when you’re with me, we can win. Whatever the challenges.’

  ‘You’re full of it, Alexander. Get your coat and let’s go see if we can talk to Theodore and Ulrich Pfeiffer.’

  He smirks and I look away, ridiculously buoyed by his description of me. I feel none of those things he’d just assigned to me. I also feel flattened by the weight of responsibility on my shoulders. What if the Pfeiffers are nothing, and not related to the case in any way, what then? What are our chances of finding these kids alive now and why would I even begin to think I could handle something like this? We should have told Suola no, when she asked us to take this on. Gone to the cops with all our evidence, no matter how tenuous. Detective Shen would have looke
d into it. Jamie could have badgered her to take our clues seriously.

  ‘Hey, are you okay?’

  ‘Yes, just thinking.’ I give him a smile and I hope it’s a convincing one.

  Chapter Forty-Four

  I honestly wish I had my sword with me. I miss the feel of it, but knocking on a stranger’s door with a sword sticking up over your shoulder is frowned on in civil society. So instead I have to rely on my baton and my boot knife if help is needed. I leave the sword in the boot of Dante’s Lexus.

  Dante’s carrying his favourite pair of knuckledusters in his jacket pocket, the ones emblazoned with angelic runes (I still feel itchy about him having them, especially now that he has the extra whammy of being Fae). He also has a compact taser attached to his belt in a tidy pouch. I worry that he has no bladed weapons, but then he can run up walls and kick an opponent in the head, so maybe he’s better armed than I am.

  The house before us is a Georgian in style with a semicircular driveway. The front garden is neatly kept and presents a facade of well-to-do respectability to the world. I double check the address Kyle confirmed (our database held no further info on the Pfeiffers) before pressing the doorbell. I’m hesitant to use the gargoyle knocker as it might hide a biting spell and its teeth look vicious.

  Dante stands next to me and we don’t have very long to wait. The door is opened by a woman of indeterminate age who reminds me a lot of my Aunt Jennifer. She resembles one of those impeccably and effortlessly dressed women who looks as though they are always ready to meet the Queen for high tea.

  ‘May I help you?’

  I try not to squirm under her brief examination. Her eyes are an electric blue and the force of their regard is almost physical. She takes me in with one glance before turning her attention to Dante, who’s the one that draws her brows together.