by Liz de Jager
‘And then you saw fairies and she left you and who knows what you did to your poor boyfriend. Yeah, you’re the boss of dating.’
‘Woah.’ He clutches at his heart dramatically. ‘That hurt.’
I laugh at his antics. ‘Get ready, we’re almost there.’ And then, because it needs saying, ‘Thanks for listening.’
Chapter Forty-Five
Chem’s waiting for us as soon as we get out of the car. He nods at Dante but asks me, ‘What’s wrong with the guy? He looks worse than the other day.’
‘He’s getting over some flu,’ I say, keeping my voice light. ‘If he falls over, just make sure he doesn’t hit his head.’
Chem grunts in assent and eyes him dubiously.
‘I am right here,’ Dante points out sourly. ‘But feel free to talk about me like I’m not the oldest person here.’
I scoff and exchange an amused look with Chem, then we’re at the community hall.
‘Right, all the parents are still there. They brought like cake and tea and shit. Like it’s a party or something.’
‘Is Tia’s dad there?’
‘Yes. They’re all there, and some other people I don’t know. Even Diane’s auntie is there.’
‘Uh. Okay.’ I gesture for him. ‘Let’s go. Show us.’
Chem leads us around the far side of the last block of flats, along a bit of broken paving that was once a walkway, to a low flat-roofed building of the type they were so happy to build in the Seventies. Some of the windows are boarded up and there’s graffiti on the walls but the lights are on.
There’s a peculiar feeling in the night air, a heaviness I’ve not felt before. It reminds me of when I accessed the leylines at the Manor – a wild intoxicating experience.
I’m aware of Chem and Dante talking. To me? I can’t be sure; I can’t hear them properly. As I turn to look at them, they seem to be a long distance away.
I look back towards the abandoned play area and let myself walk into those lines and See.
A group of maybe as many as a hundred men are gathered around a large bonfire. They’re talking and laughing, their voices a bit wild in the night air. They’re dressed against the cold, heavy cloaks drawn close; a jug of some beverage is being passed around.
They’re mature men, bearded and beringed. Affluent with the air of leaders. Slowly, as if by some prearranged signal, the men start falling quiet and a single figure steps forward. He throws the hood of his cloak back to reveal strong features in a darkly tanned face.
He holds up a hand for silence and the men arrange themselves before him in a way that is deferential but not remotely submissive. Annoyingly, I can’t hear what’s being said – the distance is too great, and the fire is making it difficult for me to concentrate. It flickers in front of my eyes, making the men appear insubstantial. I shift my stance in an attempt to see better, and I can tell he sees me: his gaze widens in shock.
He’s talking now, looking right at me and all I can do is stand still as he stalks closer, moving away from the fire. The men behind him are watching this with fear and anticipation in their upturned faces.
The man is so close now that we lock gazes. I stare into his unfathomable grey eyes as he leans towards me, speaking. I shake my head to show him I can’t hear him, so he grabs my arm. Instead of his hand passing through me, he grabs hold of my wrist. Suddenly it’s as if the volume’s dialled up to eleven, because there’s noise and I can hear him. And although his words are a jumble of harsh sounds, I understand that he’s trying to reassure me of something. I listen hard, repeating the words out loud, burning them into memory so I can ask Kyle to translate them later.
An arm circles my waist and I start, and the man’s face turns pale despite the bonfire’s glow. He shows fear for the first time as his gaze finds Dante, who is now behind me. Dante would strike fear into any hardened warrior as he looks now – wild and feral. The horns that were nubs before are now fully grown into impressive antlers that lift proudly from his brow.
The man and his cohorts are shouting. I pull Dante’s arm from around my waist, managing to get him away from me long enough to reach out and touch the man. This stills him and I smile as I step away.
‘Kit, stop hitting me.’ Dante grabs both my wrists as I stop struggling, coming back to the estate and the here and now. ‘I see you. There you are, welcome back.’
I stare at him, wondering where the horns went and why he’d looked so different. Then I gasp and remember, pulling free of him to scramble for my phone. I hit dial and as soon as Kyle answers I start talking, repeating the unfamiliar phrases over and over. I hear Kyle swearing and then he tells me to keep talking, he’s recording.
I sink to my knees with the phone to my ear, weak from the flow of magic coursing through me. Dante’s next to me, close but not touching and I appreciate it. Chem, though – he looks as if he wants to turn tail and run and he’s staring at the small play area as if he wants to blow it up.
‘What was that?’ Chem demands when I hang up. The phone drops from my hands to the grass. ‘What did you just do? Who were those people?’
‘Chem.’ My voice sounds rough, even to my own ears. ‘It’s okay. I promise. What you just saw wasn’t real. It was a memory of what happened here in the past.’
‘But how?’
There’s an edge of panic to his voice now and I mutely implore Dante to help me out here while I scrabble to pull myself together. I can actually feel Chem relaxing as Dante drops a casual arm around his shoulders, and I wonder if he’s using magic to help him out. They move away, Dante talking about magic and the weird shit that Kit does – and how it’s actually okay.
I manage to stand and suppress an urge to throw up. My hands are still shaking when they walk back, and Chem looks at me as if I might be in danger of growing another pair of arms or head or who knows? My smile is tight and it takes him a few seconds to respond.
‘So, on to the main event of the evening, then?’ he asks cautiously and it makes me laugh.
‘Definitely.’
Over his head, Dante lifts a questioning brow at me. But because we’ve not spent enough time together to be able to converse with eyebrows and pursed lips, I just shrug and follow Chem to the side of the building.
‘Come and listen first. All of this is screwed up, right?’
We follow him around the side of the building where there’s another door. ‘It leads to the kitchen and they’ve left it open so that they can come out here and smoke, and no one from the flats can see them.’
‘Do a lot of people use this place?’ Dante asks Chem.
‘Not really, no. I mean, it used to be used loads when I was little. Then it was a proper community place. People used to come here all the time to drink, play pool, hang out. But things changed. The roof fell in and killed some guy. The council repaired the roof but no one bothered coming here much after that. That was like ten years ago. Sometimes the little kids have birthday parties here and stuff like that but it’s not really popular.’
We’ve reached the back of the building and he brings his finger up to his lips in the universal signal for us to be quiet. We follow him in, keeping low.
‘. . . must end some time soon,’ someone says, a man with a gruff voice. Definitely a smoker.
‘The cycle has come to an end now the girl’s been taken.’ The voice is mature, decisive. ‘Things will quieten down now.’
‘What of the boy Arvind? He should have been taken weeks ago.’
‘He was bypassed. There was an interference.’
‘But what of our quota?’
‘It’s been filled. The girl, Tia. Her parents knew the chance they took when they signed up for the accommodation.’
‘I don’t think anyone can prepare for it being their child,’ another voice interjects, female this time. She sounds old, her voice whispery.
‘What do you want us to say, Georgina? We may be the custodians of the land, but we have all paid.’
‘I am
saying the practice is archaic and needs reviewing.’
Murmurs now and I can’t tell if it’s in assent or dissent.
‘Who will you speak to about this? Brixi?’ The voice is low and scoffing. ‘He has not attended our council meetings in years. He only knows us when it’s time for the harvesting of the next crop of children.’
‘There must be a way to stop this entirely. Surely, after all this time, these sacrifices are no longer required. What has it got to do with modern life, anyway?’ There’s an impatient shifting of several bodies. ‘I say we speak to Brixi and get things changed.’
I turn to stare at Chem and Dante. ‘What are they talking about?’ I mutter. ‘They can’t mean the Brixi, from like nine hundred years ago, can they?’
Chem looks at me as if I’ve gone crazy but Dante looks thoughtful. ‘They could be. Maybe he was Fae.’
I exhale a low curse then jerk with fright when I recognize the next voice.
‘Nice to try and get things stopped now, but what of those who’ve already had children taken? I bought these juju masks from a witchdoctor in Nigeria and he told me no one with magic could come through the door – and he showed me that they work. Yet this guy Brixi and his friend still came in and took my little girl.’ It’s Tia’s dad; I recognise his voice for sure. Chem nods at my questioning look.
‘Magic, is it?’ There’s a world of bitterness in this new voice. ‘There’s some ancient pact written into our rental agreement with the lord of the land. It permits some psycho to steal our children by sneaking into our homes – and you call it magic?’
‘Well I guess that sounds a bit soft, but . . . ?’
‘I don’t care how they do it. I care that we are victims of something that has nothing to do with us.’
‘The police . . .’
‘The police don’t care. If this was a case of some middle-class or rich kids going missing, they’d care very much. But because it’s us, living on an estate, they have other things to be doing.’
‘You can’t say that, Jimmy. I’ve seen some of the police investigating this work themselves to the bone trying to get behind all of this.’
‘Only for it to go nowhere, for the resources to be reassigned.’
Someone says something I can’t make out, a woman, but I look at Dante.
‘Tithe?’ I mouth the word at him but he must have been thinking along the same lines because he looks worried but nods his head.
‘Could be.’
‘What’s that?’ Chem asks me. ‘What are you talking about?’
‘A tithe is a really old term, where you pay a percentage of your income to someone you owe loyalty to. They had it in olden times. Like, if I were a king and you were a noble in my court, I’d ask you to pay me say a tenth of the income that you make from your lands and farms. And you would require the same from the people who work on your farms.’
‘So basically you’re talking about protection money?’
We both look at Chem in surprise. ‘You pay me my money and I make sure my bullyboys don’t come round and beat up you and your family and trash your shop.’
‘Yes, I suppose you can look at it that way,’ I admit, not liking that this makes so much sense.
‘What the hell is going on, though? Who are they paying the tithe to?’
I shrug at Dante’s question. ‘I don’t know. But it definitely sounds like it has a Fae or magical connection.’
‘Why these people?’
‘Maybe we should ask them.’ I straighten up and gesture for them to do the same. ‘We’ve heard enough to know nothing normal is going on here. Time to play.’
Chem looks panicked for a second. ‘I can’t be part of this. I don’t want them coming after me if something goes wrong.’
‘Okay, be our backup then. If things go really south, call the cops.’
He nods mutely and slinks back out. I turn to Dante and nod at him.
‘Go on, knock like a cop. I know you get special training to perfect the sound.’
And at my encouraging nod he does exactly that. He raps hard on the door wedged open behind us.
It’s followed by the scrape of chairs, and voices raised in alarm.
We walk into the room to face fifteen people, some are the parents of children who’ve been taken recently; others look older. They wear a mixture of expressions: alarm, concern, guilt and worry.
‘Please,’ Dante says, holding up his hand and flashing his badge. ‘My name is Dante Alexander and this is my associate, Kit Blackhart. We’ve been asked to investigate the missing children from this estate and, from what we’ve just overheard, you’ll definitely be able to help.’
Never let it be said Dante couldn’t string a sentence together.
‘This is a private meeting!’
‘How did you get in here?’
The voices are loud and four of the larger men surge towards us, indignant and annoyed at our intrusion. Sometimes the best way to stop people from getting hurt is to do something ridiculous. I choose to do that now because I recognize the guy from my early morning jog.
He spots me too, and looks as if he’s just seen a ghost. While he hesitates, I flick my wrist and I step forward as the baton slides out.
I lift my other hand and let my magic take shape right in front of all of them. There are startled shouts and a curse or ten, and I look up and away from the flames licking around my hand to smile at them. And it’s not a nice smile. It’s a smile that Aiden tells me will get me into a lot of trouble one day. He should know: he taught it to me.
‘Stop!’ I say, addressing Canal Guy. ‘We just want to know what’s going on. And who we need to talk to, to stop your children being taken.’
He’s stopped in his tracks, looking nervous – but I can also see the hostility there and I hope we’re not going to have to fight it out again.
‘You’re too late now,’ one of the women says, her eyes heavy with guilt. ‘They’re gone and there’s nothing we can do about it.’
‘Do you really believe that?’ Another woman looks at her and then turns to us. ‘How can you help us? You’re still a child yourself. And him? Who does he think he is? King of the fairies?’
I look over my shoulder and see that Dante’s dropped his glamour. The nubs of his horns rise from the shocking black of his hair and he looks utterly otherworldly in the bad lighting of the community centre. The scent of high forests and mountains fill the hall and it’s such a breath of fresh air in the confines of the room. I inhale deeply before securing a protective magic shield around myself. I’m pretty sure I can cope if Dante’s pheromones kick in, but I don’t want to be completely open to that risk with so much else going on.
‘No, not exactly.’ I have a small struggle to look away from him. But I manage and pin the woman with my gaze. ‘Look, I know this is hard to accept, but we’re here to help. Our ages don’t matter; we just want to get your children back and stop whatever is going on here. So can you help us?’
‘I think we should ask, will they help us?’ Dante put in. ‘Or are you happy with your children being taken as tithe?’
Someone starts sobbing and I shoot Dante a warning glance but he looks fierce. The room’s watching us to decide what to do next. I exhale slowly, dropping my hands to my sides, presenting a calmer, less antagonistic, front.
‘Look, my family – the Blackharts – hunt monsters that aren’t human, and you obviously know there is something supernatural going on here. Dante and I have been asked to help find these missing children. So please, just tell us what you know.’
There are murmurs but then Tia’s father speaks up. ‘What can you do? How can you help them? Don’t you think we’ve tried to stop this? And now you’re here, children yourselves . . .’
I see so much pain and anger in him that I bite back my hasty retort. ‘I may be young but at least I’m prepared to help. So is Dante. So are my family and the organization Dante works for. All we’re asking is for you to trust us, to tell us why
your children are being singled out here.’
Their murmurs die down gradually and the women stare at Dante as if they’ve just seen their favourite pair of shoes go on sale right before their eyes.
‘Please, with your help, we can end this.’ He spreads his hands in a gesture of appeal and suddenly everyone is smiling at him – and I mean everyone. ‘We will do our utmost and get your children back, but we can only do that if you help us.’ I feel a wave of persuasive energy flow from him. It rolls around the room and even the sullen man who’s been staring daggers at me shifts his attention and watches Dante tenderly.
Flipping heck, the boy is good, I’ll admit that, even if it scares me a little. I edge away and let my flames die down – a wise precaution given my next move is to get my phone out to record the conversation.
‘I have a picture here and I’d like to know if you recognize him.’ I pass the photo that Ulrich Pfeiffer gave us to the first person, who looks at it, nods in affirmation and passes it to the others, who are murmuring among themselves.
I feel excitement and suppress a smile of relief. Maybe we can win this after all.
Otherwhere, the Tower at the End of the World
The clearing Thorn had been heading for was at the base of a small mountain range; beyond it lay his destination. The palace on the flattened hill ahead was more of a fortress than a playground for courtiers, and between him and it lay a large town. Thorn knew from clandestine research that the entire palace, with its countless rooms and private gardens, lay abandoned – along with the town at its base. It had been unoccupied for over two thousand years, and he doubted anyone had visited it for an age. An air of neglect lay heavily over the whole area, and the forest he’d thundered through felt unnaturally still.
Even without using his newly heightened senses and magical ability, Thorn could sense that he was being watched. He resisted the urge to throw up a masking spell and instead dismounted from his horse, starting the slow walk to the town itself.
It took him almost an hour to cross the clearing, and not once did he hear a bird or see another living thing. It was eerie and gave him too much time to think. Clouds lay low and heavy across the trees and a cold breeze blew down from the mountains, bringing the scent of the first snowfall.
