‘Yes, it works like that, doesn’t it?’
She watched him cross the courtyard. As he placed his foot on the first of the steps that led up to street level, he looked back at her where she stood, framed inside the door.
‘Sleep well, Mia. Sweet dreams. You deserve them.’
THE THIEF
‘We only live once, but if you work it right, once is enough.’
—Joe E. Lewis
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
THE BOOK OF LIGHT AND DUST
FOR ROSALIA
XXXIV
The Dragonfly is associated with illusion, magic, visions and dreams. It is the totem of the god Hiro, the god of thieves.
Hiro, with his avaricious heart and sleight of hand, carried with him a swarm of dragonflies hidden inside his cloak. Upon entering the house of his victims, he would release the dragonflies and the beautiful, glimmering wings would so delight and dazzle the occupants, they would not notice they were being robbed.
Beauty can be treacherous. Beauty and truth are not one and the same. Beauty can be used to catch the light…
THE WAY: YELLOW DRAGON
BLACKLIGHT: DIR: S13, FRC: 1, TIME: 6, SUs: K5 PC
WHITELIGHT: LU2
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
It had turned into a lovely summer. The days were luminous and the nights languid and warm with a shiny crescent rising in a ginger-ale sky. Night after night it grew, a tiny sliver of light, until one evening Mia and Nick and Ash stepped outside to find the darkness filled with a big, yellow story-book moon.
How had it happened? How had someone who was a total stranger become absorbed in the rhythm of her days so quickly? That moment when he had come to her rescue was the turning point. Almost overnight, Mia could no longer imagine Adrian Ashton not being part of her life. Why had she ever imagined he would be difficult to know? Why was she ever wary of him?
The two men. It was as though she could no longer think of the one without the other. She would close her eyes and see the two of them side by side: the one dark, the one fair. Nick with his blue eyes and curly hair: heavy-boned, shorter than Ash. Ash with his graceful hands and tall, elegant body. In her mind’s eye, they were running towards her where she waited for them at the pagoda in the park. Sweat glistened on their arms and foreheads. Their teeth were white in their tanned faces. And then they were suddenly upon her; exuberant, overwhelmingly male, cracking a joke among themselves, cuffing her playfully against the head, picking her up and swinging her by the waist. And she would squeeze her eyes shut to fight the dizziness as the red of the sun pressed against her lids.
At first she accompanied the men when they went running, but there came a day when she had to stop and watch them go on by themselves. She could no longer keep up with their long strides. Squinting, she brought her hand up to her eyes and watched their figures move away into the distance, and she couldn’t help but feel a little sad.
Nick was changing. His body was becoming toned and muscled. When she watched him train in the dojo, she was struck by his focus. Chilli once told her that, according to Buddhist philosophy, when a student is ready for the right teacher, he will be there. Ash had certainly come at the right time. Even at this halfway mark in Nick’s training, Mia could see he was already far better prepared than for his previous fights.
It was a summer of beauty and friendship. She wondered if she would remember these days when she was old. Would she look back to when they were all young and confident and energy was flowing strongly through their bodies? And would those memories be vital and glowing or drained by old age? If only one could stop time. Sometimes she’d be training in the dojo surrounded by voices, laughter and movement, and the desire to halt time in its tracks would be so strong it took her breath away.
Weeks later, when the nights had become cold and the daylight weak, she would look back at those months and realise she had become lost in beauty and tricked by it. Beauty can slip under your guard and leave you vulnerable. A bright sun made for deep shadows.
• • •
‘They’re males.’
Mia followed Ash’s gaze. Skimming low across the water and perched on reeds and rushes were dozens of dragonflies. The sun made their wings glimmer with light.
‘How do you know?’
‘Females don’t have those bright colours.’ He gestured at a pool of shade. ‘Let’s sit down under that tree and watch Nick do his thing.’
Mia glanced over to where Nick was slowly walking into the stream. He was dressed in waders. The sight of bag-punching Nick with a fly-fishing rod in his hand still seemed unreal to her. Fly-fishing had a veneer of affluence to it: it belonged to a world of expensive whisky and heavy tweeds. It was at times like these that she realised Nick had picked up habits in Scotland that were alien to her.
She sat down next to Ash, who had propped his back up against the tree and was once again watching the swarm of dragonflies.
‘Why are there so many males?’
‘They’re on the prowl.’
‘For food?’
‘For women. Any female who shows up now will get pounced on.’ He lifted an eyebrow. ‘It’s quite brutal, actually: at the tip of a male dragonfly’s abdomen are hooks, which he slams into the female’s head before dragging her off.’
‘Charming. How do you know so much about dragonflies?’
‘I admire dragonflies.’ He nodded. ‘They’re the ultimate predators. Fast, deadly, beautiful. And they’re the ultimate survivors too: there are dragonfly fossils that are more than 350 million years old.’
She looked back at the darting wings glistening like silk. She had always thought of dragonflies as pretty things belonging in fairy-tales.
Ash gestured at the insects. ‘Dragonflies have globular heads with enormous eyes that give them 360-degree vision. They’re incredibly acrobatic and can change direction so rapidly, their prey has little chance of escape. And their legs are lethal—studded with sharp spines that allow them to scoop their prey out of the sky and consume it while still in flight. Actually, that’s how some of them have sex as well.’
‘They eat the females?’ Mia was horrified.
His lips twitched. ‘No, they mate while flying. But only chaser dragonflies, I hasten to add. Some of the other species do it right and cuddle up for hours… if that makes you feel happier.’
‘Not at all. First the poor female has hooks stuck into her head and then she’s forced into tantric sex.’
‘Ah, well.’ He smiled lazily. ‘Life’s not just.’
For a while it was quiet between them. Nick had reached midstream. He cast a line and it unfurled deep into the river, the tip trailing sweetly in the shandy-coloured water.
‘He’s good,’ Ash said. ‘That’s not easy.’
‘Hmm.’
‘Nick is a good guy.’
‘Yes, he is.’ Mia nodded. ‘I don’t think he has even one enemy. People always like him.’
‘Nick has an unambiguous way of looking at life, that’s why. If you read his Rick Cobra adventures, you see that clearly. It attracts people: that kind of confidence. Most of us do not feel within us such certainty.’
‘Rick Cobra is just a fictional character, Ash.’
‘Yes, but Nick writes from the heart. Nick really does believe good will triumph.’
‘You’re saying it’s an unsophisticated way of looking at life.’ She suddenly felt as though he was criticising Nick and she had to defend him.
‘Not at all. Uncomplicated is not the same as unsophisticated. Nick is lucky. I envy him.’
She did not answer. Nick was fiddling with something on the line, his profile a study in concentration.
‘Why are you and Nick not together, Mia? You must know he’s crazy about you.’
For a moment she hesitated, not certain that she wanted to answer something so personal. Or try to articulate emotions she herself felt so confused about.
‘I can’t really say.’ She sighed. ‘What Nick and I h
ave is… pure.’
She stopped, embarrassed—unsure how to explain to him her fear of all the treacherous things people in relationships did to their partners. Hurting each other, manipulating each other, becoming needy or indifferent. In a relationship there was usually one who kissed and one who was being kissed—and even her parents had found this equation troublesome. She had always fought against the attraction she felt for Nick—and there were good reasons for that. Nick was her safe harbour. If their relationship changed, it would be exciting, but the waters might be turbulent. Why risk that?
She got to her feet, feeling suddenly restless. ‘I’m going to join him. That stream looks cool.’
When she reached the river bank opposite Nick, she kicked off her sandals. Lifting her dress above her knees, she slowly lowered one foot into the water.
Nick waded over and, after laying the fishing rod on the bank, reached out a hand to help her enter the water fully. He smiled at her. As she placed her hand in his, she looked into those blue, blue eyes. He was a great guy. In her heart she had always known they were meant for each other, so why was she hesitant? She should have more faith in him and in herself. She wasn’t her mother. Molly had loved Juan but she could be moody and dismissive too. Molly was the great passion in Juan’s life, but her father had never made peace with the idea of Molly being a Keeper, even though her relationship with the men in her keep had been as chaste as sister to brother. Still, it needn’t be like that for her and Nick. Mia took another step forward.
‘Oh!’
‘What?’ Nick frowned. ‘What’s the matter, Mia?’
She looked down. The honey-coloured water was clear enough to see the red blood spiralling from her foot and the chunk of glass embedded in the soft part of her sole.
Nick swore. The next moment he had scooped her up and was stepping out of the water and on to the river bank.
She laced her arms round his neck, feeling suddenly light-headed and, despite the sun on her skin, cold. She could feel Nick’s heart beating fast and agitated against hers but everything else seemed slow and dreamlike. Small things were magnified and stood out with preternatural clearness. The veins on Nick’s strong forearms and the bruises on his knuckles. The creases around Ash’s eyes as he cradled her foot in his hands.
‘We need to get this out.’ Ash looked at her. She noticed a small nerve jumping at the corner of his mouth. ‘Are you ready, Mia?’
She nodded, still feeling as though things were happening in slow motion. Dimly she was aware that Nick was holding one of her hands in both of his own.
‘Deep breath in’—Ash gripped the chunk of glass—‘and out.’ The next moment his fingers twisted and the glass slid out of her foot and, bloodily, into his hand.
‘Christ, that must have hurt.’ Nick’s face was white.
She shook her head. For one moment intense pain had flared inside her body, but now that the glass was out it was bearable.
‘This needs stitches.’ Ash peered at the gash. ‘But until then, let’s get some dressing on.’ He took from his pocket a white handkerchief and wrapped it skilfully around the arch of her foot. ‘How does that feel?’
‘Fine. I’m fine.’
‘Are you sure?’
‘Yes.’
And suddenly, as she looked at the concerned faces of the two men, a wave of affection for both of them swept over her—so strong, she felt it prickle her throat.
‘Mia? Are you all right?’ Nick’s eyes were deeply worried.
She blinked. ‘Yes, I am. Really. Thank you for rescuing me. And you’—she turned to Ash—‘for patching me up.’
‘The warrior and the healer.’ Ash was smiling.
‘My heroes,’ she answered in return, and stretched her arms out to both.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
The hunger was overwhelming. The hunger had driven him from the confines of his flat and out into the night. More than anything, Dragonfly wanted to go to her house. But he could not trust himself.
And so he continued to crisscross the West End, walking for hours through streets alive with sound and streaming with light. Light everywhere. Radiant cinema names, flashing lights at crossroads, glowing signs at restaurant doors and white lights illuminating immaculate shop windows. And around him bodies—surging, jostling—and these bodies, too, filled with light. He stared at the faces with their shiny eyes and glistening teeth and he imagined he could see furtive light speeding through the veins of their bodies like quicksilver, mingling with caustic enzymes inside iridescent cells, charging up the pale, spiky column of the spine and sparking the electric brain.
The hunger. He had to ball his hands into fists inside his jacket and he could feel the sweat blooming in his armpits. The hunger was so strong, he had difficulty keeping it in check. But he knew exactly what had triggered it.
Her small, strong foot inside his palm. The blood streaming red and potent over his fingers.
A streak of pollen lay like a yellow exclamation mark on the shoulder of her dress. Her face was stippled with the shadows of the leaves above her head and her skin seemed translucent. Her mouth was slightly open with pain.
For a moment, it felt as though his own heart was entraining with hers—the agitated beat of her organ speeding up his own. He looked back at the wet blood on his hand. It came from inside her body and would be charged with light.
His heart trembled. He couldn’t remember ever desiring anything as much.
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
‘You are looking good, Nicky.’
Nick smiled at his mother. ‘You too, Mum.’ It was true. With her flashing dark eyes and thick mink eyelashes, his mother was still an attractive woman. She was plump but curvy and had neat ankles, which she liked to show off with very high heels. Her voice was attractively husky. The Greek accent and wobbly syntax, which still marked her English even after years of living in the United Kingdom, was appealing.
‘Help yourself.’ His mother pushed a plate of biscuits towards him.
‘No, I mustn’t. I’ll be fighting soon, Mum.’
His mother frowned. ‘Why you always want to fight…’
Nick looked at her with affection, but he wasn’t going to get sucked into this conversation again. They had had it too many times before.
He took a sip of his tea. ‘Mia sends her love.’
His mother’s face cleared. ‘Ah, Mia. How is she?’
‘She’s doing fine. She had an accident with her foot the other day but she’s already back in training again.’
‘You two are meant for each other, Nicky. Destiny. That’s what I say to Molly when you and Mia are born.’
‘So you keep telling me.’
‘If you don’t take her, someone else will. You must be more strong, Nicky. You must grab her and kiss her and tell her she is beautiful. What am I saying this for you? You should know that.’
‘That the way to a woman’s heart is through her vanity?’
His mother gave him an exasperated glance. ‘You are flying back to London tonight?’
‘In three hours. But I have one more stop to make before heading for the airport. Which means’—he got to his feet—‘I should probably go.’
Outside in the driveway, they hugged and Nick kissed his mother on the top of her head. ‘Are you happy, Mum?’
‘I am, Nicky. Donald is a good man.’
‘I know.’ He meant it. It couldn’t have been easy all those years ago for his stepfather suddenly to accept a truculent teenage boy into his life, but he had done so with equanimity and Nick was grateful. And Donald was good to his mother, which, in the end, was all that mattered. His own father had walked out on them before he was born.
Nick opened the door of the hire car and got behind the steering wheel. As he pulled away, he opened the window. ‘Grab her and kiss her and tell her she’s beautiful?’
‘Yes.’ His mother nodded vigorously. ‘Like that.’
He was still smiling as he steered the car on
to the road, but as he glanced at his watch the smile disappeared. He had spent too long at his mother’s place. He was going to have to hurry if he wanted to fit in his next appointment and make it to the airport on time.
One of the names on the list of fighters who had died mysteriously was Bill Muso, a cage fighter. Nick had flown to Scotland to visit his mother but also to meet Barry Driver, Muso’s trainer at his gym in Edinburgh. Muso had no wife or girlfriend, which meant that his trainer would be the best person to talk to about what went on in the fighter’s life.
Driver’s Gym was pretty down-at-heel. It was located in a basement behind a steel door and there was no natural light inside the rectangular room. The heavy bags were punched out and scarred with duct tape. But it was still a dojo where men came to work hard. As Nick stepped inside, he immediately felt comfortable.
Driver was wrestling with a lanky youth who was breathing past his mouth guard like Darth Vader. Nick watched as the coach put a head crank on his student, causing the kid, after a few futile movements, to tap out.
From his position on the floor, Driver looked up at Nick. ‘Can I help you?’
‘Nick Duffy. I phoned.’
‘Oh, right.’ Driver jumped to his feet with springy grace. Nick noticed that he had absurdly small feet and rosy toes. ‘Let’s go to my office.’ He turned back to the youth. ‘Nice work, Jimmy. Go for a steam now, yeah?’
Based on the spartan appearance of the rest of the gym, Nick had expected the office to have the appeal of a prison cell, but Driver’s office was surprisingly comfortable. Thick carpets. A decent flower arrangement on the desk. On one wall was a pinboard with snapshots of fighters and gym members.
‘So you want to know about Bill?’ Driver sank into a swivel chair behind his desk and gestured at Nick to sit down.
‘What can you tell me about him?’
The Keeper Page 12
