‘Please,’ she begged.
‘Esther?’ shouted Tom, hearing her voice. ‘Esther?’
‘Tom!’ she called.
Kiyaya did not look at her, instead addressing Mr G. Hayman. ‘I have her for you,’ he said. When Mr G. Hayman turned, Esther could see there was something odd about her. Lord Ringmore looked different too. Esther spotted the lifeless magpie and cat by Sir Tyrrell’s body. Lord Ringmore moved his stick across the ground, and the lamplights lifted into the air.
‘Mondriat?’ asked Esther.
‘Indeed. ’Tis I,’ Lord Ringmore’s body replied. He turned to Mr G. Hayman. ‘This is wonderful, Olwyn, wonderful.’
‘I can’t tell you how much it pleases me to see you so happy,’ replied Olwyn, in the body of Mr G. Hayman.
‘And it pleases me to see you so exquisitely, deliciously … human,’ replied Mondriat. The lamps grew brighter. ‘You planned this whole thing, didn’t you? Everything from the beginning.’
‘All for you.’ Olwyn smiled.
Mondriat sent the lanterns spinning around. ‘The book was the bait,’ he said. ‘Tom was the fisherman and these splendidly wealthy, unInfected people were your fish. I have so missed all this.’ Mondriat slipped an arm around her waist. ‘But why didn’t you tell me?’
‘I wanted it to be a surprise, my love,’ said Olwyn. She tenderly stroked the side of Mondriat’s face with the back of her hand.
‘And all that stuff about you not trusting me?’
‘Never confuse trust with love.’
‘You’ve killed them,’ exclaimed Esther, horrified.
‘They have purified these bodies and now they wear their scalps,’ said Kiyaya.
Mondriat turned to face the huge man. ‘And I see we have another Conjuror amongst us. How this mystery deepens,’ said Mondriat. ‘I take it this has something to do with you, Olwyn.’
‘He is no ordinary Conjuror, are you, Kiyaya?’ replied Olwyn.
‘I have walked in many forms,’ he replied.
‘An old soul,’ said Mondriat with wonder. ‘I feel like such a fool. Olwyn, you always could make a fool of me.’
Olwyn reached out her right hand. ‘Now please my love, I wonder if I could borrow this staff for a moment. It has been so long since I felt its power.’
Mondriat handed her Lord Ringmore’s stick. ‘You know I’d do anything to watch you Conjure again.’
Olwyn inspected the walking stick then moved it in a series of elegant shapes across the ground. The lamplights sparkled and fizzled with energy.
‘Always such beautiful Conjury.’ Mondriat sighed. ‘But if you discovered all this back then, why did it take so long to use it? Why have you waited all this time? What were the complications you spoke of?’
Olwyn continued to move the staff while she answered. ‘As you know, an animal’s spirit may be pushed aside and its body manipulated by a Conjuror, but a human’s body is more complex, more intricate. The potion separates the body without harming it but one cannot control such complex machinery while a part of oneself resides elsewhere. It takes a complete spirit to control a human form.’
‘You are talking about our True Reflections?’ said Mondriat.
‘Yes. That which anchors us to this world is precisely that which prevents human immortality. While an image of you remains in your True Reflection, you cannot take on a new human form. No man can have more than one reflection. Is that not so, Kiyaya?’
‘Where I am from we have no Mirror Spell,’ responded the Indian. ‘Here in your cold continent you Conjurors were vain. You wanted to hang onto your birth skins. Where I am from, the Infected shed these skins and find new forms as early as possible. Removed from the body which cast the Creation Spell, our second skins are protected from the pull of the Earthsoul.’
As he spoke Esther felt herself transported back again to the night beneath the stars in the wilderness. She saw the man with the painted face, clutching his staff. He looked exhausted. She noticed the patterns on the ground beneath the bodies of Kiyaya’s murdered family.
‘The man who showed me how to Conjure also taught me how it was possible to step from body to body, never dying,’ said Kiyaya. ‘He only asked for one thing in exchange for his knowledge: a sacrifice. My family. That night I convinced them to drink and he took my uncle’s skin while I took the hide of my cousin. It was the first of many hides I was to wear over the years.’
Esther returned to the tunnel with a jolt and saw the spell scratched on the ground around the train tracks. It was the same one as she had seen in the vision. She tried to wriggle free but Kiyaya’s grip was strong.
‘Then we must get to our mirrors and extract our True Reflection,’ said Mondriat. ‘How long do we have?’
‘That depends,’ replied Olwyn calmly. ‘It could be minutes, hours, maybe longer. Can’t you already feel the itch of Lord Ringmore’s body, trying to reject your incomplete spirit?’
A panicked expression appeared on the face of Lord Ringmore as Mondriat realised Olwyn was speaking the truth.
‘Let me have the staff,’ said Mondriat. ‘I can get myself there at once.’
‘Ah,’ replied Olwyn. With a small flick of her wrist, she made Sir Tyrrell’s cold hand came to life and grip Mondriat’s leg.
‘My love?’ said Mondriat, eyes wide with fear and confusion.
Olwyn smiled. ‘Always so untrustworthy and yet yourself so trusting. You even trusted me when I planted the idea in your head that mirror theft held the secret of immortality. I always knew it wouldn’t work but it helped cleanse a world so overpopulated by Conjurors.’
‘That was not my purpose.’
‘Yet it was mine. There were too many Infected souls. It was time for an overhaul. When power becomes too commonplace it ceases to be power. You see, you were right. I am always playing games and you, Mondriat, are always my unwitting pawn.’
‘I don’t understand.’
‘I wouldn’t expect you to, but I did always enjoy watching you scrabble around desperately for the answer, so I will give you a chance. If you can reach your reflection across the streets of London with an overweight politician’s body attached to your leg then you have earned your right to this human form. Perhaps you’ll be able to find something to use as a staff. If not you had better hope you can find some other animal skin to take refuge in.’ She stood on the magpie’s neck and snapped it, then did the same to the cat. ‘I think a rat might suit you next. There must be plenty of those around.’
‘Please, Olwyn … ’ Mondriat tried hopelessly to prize Sir Tyrrell’s fingers from his leg.
‘You can waste your time here or you can get moving,’ she said coolly.
He looked up at her and saw the look of unswerving determination in her eyes. ‘Always such a fascinating woman,’ he said wistfully. ‘Olwyn, I will pass your test and return to you.’
Mondriat began making his way down the tunnel, as fast as he could while dragging Sir Tyrrell’s ungainly dead body along the railway track.
‘Let him go,’ protested Esther.
Olwyn turned to face her. Although Olwyn no longer wore the cat’s skin, there was still something feline about the way she prowled towards Esther.
‘Now, Esther, I think it is time you learnt the truth too. You see, I look at you and I see myself.’
Olwyn laughed. Esther had heard that laughter somewhere before. It was the same laughter as that of the dark-haired woman she had seen inside her mirror. ‘I don’t know what you mean.’
‘I must extract my True Reflection in order to become immortal. That’s why I needed Kiyaya to bring you here.’
‘What has that to do with me?’
‘All this time, dear Esther, it was you. You were my mirror, all this time.’
With her right hand, Olwyn sketched out a spell. She placed her left on Esther’s forehead, pushing her back into the mist of memory.
Here in the past, a dark-haired woman stands over Esther. It is Olwyn. They are in a small
, sparsely furnished cottage. It is dark outside. On the floor lies a fair-haired woman. Unmoving. Esther knows this is her mother from the screaming agony her infant mind feels when she looks at her. This memory, tucked so deep inside her for so long, stretches back to a time before she had the power of speech. Olwyn crouches down beside Esther’s mother, as a creature might inspect its prey. The bright light of her spirit spews out of her mouth and the dark-haired woman’s body drops to the ground. Esther’s mother blinks and stands, and yet it is not her mother. It is Olwyn in her body. She picks up her book and staff. Outside, fists pound on the door. Angry voices shout through the window. Torches burn. The woman throws her head back and laughs. But the laughter turns to a cough. She splutters and wretches as the body rejects her. Her spirit spills out once more and seeks refuge in her original body. Confused and scared, Esther crawls to her mother. Olwyn has the staff again. The screaming and pounding grows louder. Olwyn points her left hand at Esther’s mother. Esther closes her eyes. Then all is gone.
Back in the tunnel, Olwyn released Esther. She stumbled backwards, as she was finally released by Kiyaya. She felt strange, as though something inside her had been removed. She landed hard on the ground. ‘You killed her,’ she said. ‘You killed my mother.’
‘If you’re going to weep for a woman who died centuries ago there are plenty more,’ replied Olwyn.
‘Who was she?’ demanded Esther.
‘As I said before, she was no one,’ said Olwyn, dismissively. ‘She was the most ordinary peasant girl that ever lived. She only became relevant when I chose her.’
‘Why her?’
‘Because she was foolish enough and desperate enough to believe a Conjuress when she told her she could make a potion that would bring her untold wealth and happiness. She was nothing more than an unInfected fool who believed that there was an easy solution to the suffering of life and that she deserved it. Vanity and idiocy killed your mother. Not I.’
‘Her body rejected you,’ said Esther. ‘Your spirit was incomplete.’
‘Because of you.’
‘What could I have done? I was a child.’
‘I drew out my True Reflection from my mirror before entering the new host body. It should have worked. It took me a long time to understand what had happened. When I drew it out, it retreated to another’s reflection. A child was watching. The reflection of your eye stole my True Reflection. I knew I had to hide the evidence from the barbaric hoards so I sent your mother’s body where no one would look, into the folds of time. Unfortunately, in my hurry, I failed to see the book in her hand or the orphaned child weeping on her chest. By the time I realised the truth, it was too late.’
‘So you had to wait all this time before you could draw your True Reflection from within me?’ said Esther.
‘Yes. I waited and waited, carefully considering how, this time, I would return, but in something better than the body of some peasant girl. I’ll always be grateful for Mother Agnes for taking you in, despite all that talk of the devil being inside you. She didn’t know how right she was, did she, Esther?’
Esther stared back in horror at the bewitched body of Mr G. Hayman. This, she realised, was the truth. Her mother had been murdered and Esther had grown up with the True Reflection of her murderer inside of her. Strangest of all, now that Olwyn had reclaimed her True Reflection, Esther felt its loss. She felt alone. She felt empty.
Chapter 67
Locomotion
As Tom’s vision returned he could make out Mondriat staggering over the sleepers. Closer by, Olwyn and Kiyaya were standing in front of Esther. Tom wanted to go to her but he wasn’t strong enough to get up.
‘Kiyaya, why are you helping this witch?’ asked Esther.
‘In my land, the Infected are mistrusted,’ replied the huge man. ‘We are feared. We are cast out. Here, they have been gone so long, they have become myths. A living myth is a powerful thing. That is why I travelled across the ocean. Once here, the book’s power drew me to it, just as it did the magpie. I wanted to find out more about the object. Luckily the unInfected are easily manipulated. I needed John Symmonds to join the Society so I made sure he and Lord Ringmore crossed paths, but when he ceased to be useful I stopped his heart and watched him die.’
‘You killed him? You murdered an innocent man. Why? Why?’ Esther felt sick with fear and anger.
‘When you have lived as many lives as I, you accept death more readily,’ replied Kiyaya. ‘I no longer needed Mr Symmonds. I had met Olwyn Broe. She would help achieve that which I desired.’
‘What is it you want? What could she do for you?’
‘The Infected should walk tall, not cower in caves. I have lived in exile too long. Now is our time to rule.’
‘So why involve me and Tom?’ asked Esther. ‘Why didn’t you perform the Eternity Spell yourself?’
‘It is one thing to create the potion,’ said Kiyaya, ‘you must also have someone to drink it.’
‘And I needed the right body this time,’ said Olwyn. ‘This novelist is ideal. She can move around with the same freedom and respect as a man. She has independent means and powerful friends. She has respect. In this body I will ensure the Infected return to their rightful place.’
‘Are you saying you controlled everything from the beginning?’ asked Esther. ‘Tom, Mondriat, Ringmore; it was all part of your game.’
‘Controlled?’ Olwyn considered the word. ‘No. I guided. The book was never going to be discovered sitting in that shop, so I burnt it down. When it fell into Lord Ringmore’s hands and he formed his Society, I knew I had found my targets, but my influence would have to be a subtle one. The best puppets are the ones that believe they pull their own strings.’
‘But me and Tom met Ringmore by chance.’
‘My True Reflection was always inside you,’ said Olwyn. ‘Did you not sometimes find yourself doing things that surprised you? The day you left the orphanage, the day you travelled west and targeted Lord Ringmore, the day you performed the Creation Spell. My influence on the others was subtle but you, sweet girl, I was always your guardian angel, moving you like a marionette.’
‘Guardian angels don’t deceive. They don’t lie. They don’t murder.’
‘Esther,’ whispered Olwyn, reaching out to touch her arm. ‘I am telling you this now so you can see that I intend no further deceit. We are sisters of the lifeblood. You were my mirror for many years. Stay with me and together our power will know no limits.’
‘Esther doesn’t care about power,’ said Tom. He had finally found the strength to get up and stagger across to take his place beside her.
‘You care about power though, don’t you, Tom?’ said Olwyn. ‘You have proved yourself a powerful Conjuror this evening.’
Tom looked at her then back at Esther. ‘Not any more, I don’t,’ he said.
‘Don’t be foolish, child,’ said Olwyn. ‘You were happy to throw your lot in with Lord Ringmore in exchange for power. I can offer you so much more.’
‘I won’t kill for it,’ stated Tom. ‘I know what’s right and what’s wrong. All I care about is Esther and me. That’s all that matters.’
Esther looked at him and saw finally that she had the old Tom back. The Tom who had left the orphanage with her in search of something better. The Tom who had followed her through the streets of London as they learnt how to survive. The Tom who was the only family she had ever known. Her friend, Tom.
‘How touching,’ said Olwyn. ‘But since you will not join me, I will dispose of you both.’ She moved her staff and raised her left hand.
The orphans heard the rumbling approach of a train behind them.
‘If I am to start afresh in this guise, these deaths must be explained away,’ said Olwyn. ‘No one will understand why Sir Tyrrell, Lord Ringmore and a pair of orphans came down this tunnel, but when they are ploughed down by an unscheduled train, there will be no question about what killed them.’
The rumbling grew louder as the train thun
dered towards them. Esther raised her hand and tried to stop it but the train continued to roll in their direction. She tried to pull it apart but could feel Olwyn’s strength in its turning wheels and its pumping pistons. Her powerful Conjury held every nut and bolt in place. As the train came into sight, Esther could see, on the front, the face of the dark-haired woman.
‘You cannot prevent this,’ shouted Olwyn over the sound of the approaching train. ‘I am a vastly more experienced Conjuress. Whatever spell you try, I will counteract it. Neither of you can escape this death. It is your fate.’
Esther felt her hands shake as she struggled against her. Olwyn was too strong. Tom raised his hands too but neither could stop the approach of the train. Sparks flew off the wheels and the screeching noise reverberated off the walls. Tom spun around and sent the oil lamps flying at Olwyn, but Kiyaya made them fall to the ground. Tom drew the tiles from the walls, bringing them down upon Kiyaya’s head, but with a tap from his great staff he vanished time and again, avoiding every attack.
‘Olwyn! Please, no,’ cried Mondriat in the distance.
Steam filled the tunnel.
Everything was lost in darkness.
Esther felt Tom’s shoulder against her own. This wasn’t how it was supposed to end. All her life Esther had felt as though there was something guiding her but it hadn’t been fate as she had thought. It had nothing to do with God or providence. Nothing was pre-written. She was in control of her own actions. She could decide what to do herself. Finally, the thoughts in her head were her own. Finally, she would make her own decisions. The right decisions. Esther took Tom’s left hand in hers and looked into his eyes.
‘I won’t let her succeed,’ she said. ‘Not after all she has done.’
‘Then what?’
The Society of Thirteen Page 20
