Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper (6 page)

When Arthur had hung up on Ash that morning, she'd instantly called Ellie with her findings and told her of his plan to meet up.

‘There's just one problem,' Ash had said when she'd explained everything.

‘What's that?'

‘I have to shake off Detective Morrissey. He's outside right now. If I head directly for the train station he'll realise something is going on.'

‘Hmm … I have an idea.'

They went to school as normal. Ash and Max took the bus and met Ellie and Ex outside the busy Belmont School. They smiled and chatted, laughing nonchalantly.

‘Can you see him?' Ash asked with a big false grin on her face.

‘He's parked a hundred yards away,' answered Ex, who was also wearing a strained smile. Anyone who saw them would think he was looking at Ash, but in reality he was staring right past her at Morrissey's red Toyota. As Ash had expected, the Garda had followed them.

‘We'll go into class,' said Ellie, just as pleasantly as the other two, ‘and stay until morning break. Then we'll sneak off. He can't wait for us all day.'

‘Won't Miss Keegan be looking for us then?' Ash pointed out, thinking of their soon-to-be worried teacher.

‘Of course. But I'd rather have
her
searching for us than Morrissey.'

‘Remember, Max,' warned Ash, ‘you can't tell anyone where we've gone.'

‘Can't I come, though?'

‘No. It'll be easier to get away with less of us going. You have to stay.'

The school bell rang, beckoning them all inside.

‘Just keep schtum,' Ellie reminded him as they followed everyone into the school.

Although they had only intended on spending the first two hours of the day in class, time seemed to drag. Miss Keegan's lessons – which usually managed to be both fun and informative – felt like torture today. Ash found herself peeking at her phone every couple of minutes – either to check the time or to see if there was any further movement on the webcam signal. An hour into the class, the signal stopped moving just on the coastline of the city. At the docks, Ash realised. She glanced at Ellie and Ex; they, too, seemed distracted. Ex was tapping his fingers on the desk impatiently while his sister kept pulling back her sleeve to look at the time. Luckily no one else in the class seemed to pick up on the tension emanating from them.

Eventually the bell rang for morning break. The class thronged out excitedly, none more pleased than Ash, Ellie and Ex. From the front schoolyard, where the balls and Frisbees were soaring through the air, they could see the main road. A few cars were parked there but they saw no sign of Detective Morrissey's red Toyota. They stood by the south-facing school wall, waiting anxiously. Then, when the bell rang to announce the end of break-time, they took their chance and sprinted off school property. During the hustle and bustle following break, no one saw them go.

Ex had driven that morning and left the Beetle in a car park half a mile from the school. Ash saw the sense in parking it so far away: Detective Morrissey had seen Ash with the Lavenders and might know their car, so it was best to keep it out of sight. The three of them piled in and Ex sped off towards the city centre.

With just a little time to spare before Arthur's train was due, they'd stopped in Smithfield, parking by the Viking Experience. Ash had got out of the car and told the others to wait. She'd walked to the high-walled enclosure in the middle of the cobblestoned Smithfield Square. Murals of Viking life adorned each wall. It was the off-season so the park was closed now, but it was due to reopen in mid-March – in just a few days. She went straight to a fire escape in one of the side walls and banged the secret knock on the door. The youngest Viking, who'd been only seventeen or eighteen when he'd died, opened the door. Like the other dead warriors, he was tall with a slim, muscular physique. Unlike the others, his skin hadn't receded as much but it was still quite brown and leathery. If he was going out in public, he usually covered it with layers of flesh-tone foundation. He was wearing a T-shirt and some jeans – being reanimated corpses, the Vikings didn't feel the cold – that he had borrowed from the costume room. He looked at Ash with quizzical sunken eyes.

‘Eirik,' she said, ‘we need you. There's no time for make-up.'

He nodded, then disappeared into the complex, reappearing a moment later wearing a baseball cap pulled down low over his face and carrying a long-sword. It was rusted slightly but could still do a good amount of damage, especially with Eirik wielding it. He got into the passenger seat while the smaller pair of Ellie and Ash sat in the back. Then Ex sped off towards Heuston Station, where they were waiting now.

‘Look – there he is!' said Ellie, pointing at Arthur coming out of the building. He didn't have to look around for too long before spotting the blue Beetle – it was hard to miss.

‘Hi,' he said, climbing into the back next to Ash. ‘Where are we headed?'

‘To Dublin Harbour,' Ash said, showing him the GPS display on her smartphone.

Clontarf had once been a village north of Dublin city. Fenrir could still see it in his mind's eye as it had been: just a row of little huts. Even though it had been swallowed up by the city spread years before, it still retained some of its former charm. He had been the one to suggest the café to meet in. The Bridge Café was the one place he'd visited every time he had gone fishing. That all seemed like another lifetime now. The café was exactly as he remembered it. It was situated just on the corner of Vernon Avenue, a little blue-faced building with one wide window and a wooden painted sign overhead. He'd once heard the term ‘greasy spoon' used to describe a café or restaurant that tended to be a bit rough around the edges and specialised in quick, fried food, and he thought it was a very fitting description for The Bridge. Inside, the walls were covered in tongue-and-groove panelling and painted bright yellow, and waxy chequered tablecloths were draped over the tables, which were packed too tightly into the small space. There was a counter at the back of the café with crisps, cakes and sandwiches on display and an open stainless-steel kitchen behind. Everything was covered in a fine layer of grease. Fenrir loved the place.

Drysi was already there when he entered. She was sitting at the small round table nearest the window, with a glass of juice in front of her. She looked up when he entered, a little bell tinkling over the door. The café was busy and every other table was occupied. She smiled at him shyly.

‘Hello, Father.'

‘Drysi,' he said, taking the seat opposite her. ‘How are you?'

‘I'm good. Thank you for coming.'

‘Of course I came. You're my daughter. I love you. I always hoped I'd see you again. And …' He hesitated, the god's name stuck in his throat. ‘And Loki?'

‘He's gone,' was all Drysi said, looking down with what seemed to be genuine loss in her eyes. Fenrir reached out and laid a hand over one of hers. That hopeful part of him was winning over the logical side. His daughter was his once more.

‘Gone,' he said.

She looked up at him with tears glistening in her eyes.

‘He was awful, Father. So … so … awful!'

‘It's all right, Drysi. You're safe with me now. We'll go away – away from all of this nonsense – just you and me.'

‘But where?'

Just then, a waitress came over. She was a squat and tubby woman, with crimson, curly hair. She was wearing a pair of thick glasses on her nose and had another pair on a gold chain around her neck. The apron she wore matched the tablecloths and she had a little notepad in hand, ready to take Fenrir's order.

‘Just a coffee, please,' he said and waited until she returned to the kitchen to continue talking. He faced Drysi once more. ‘You have a new wheelchair,' he noticed. ‘And new clothes.'

‘We found them in an abandoned house. When I was still with him. He got sick of me soon after. He said–' She stopped, choking on her words. ‘I was lucky, I guess. Lucky to get away.'

‘You were. Last night, you spoke to me in a dream. You've never been able to do that before. How did you do it?'

‘I don't know, Father. I think I just needed to find you so much that you appeared in my dream. I hoped and prayed it was real.'

‘And it was.'

‘Yes.'

The waitress returned with the mug of coffee. When she saw that the little jug of milk on the table was dry, she took it and promised to fill it up.

‘I have a boat by the dock – we can leave now if you're ready,' Fenrir told Drysi as the waitress walked off.

‘No, we can't, Father. Not yet, anyway.'

‘What? Why?'

‘Loki was looking for Hel. It became an obsession. He'll do anything to find her and if he does then it won't matter where we go. It'll never be far enough.' She leaned forward over the tabletop and whispered conspiratorially. ‘You said you knew where Hel was. We need to get to her before Loki does.'

‘But–'

‘Please, Father. I've seen what Loki can do. I've seen the terrible things he does to humans. We have to stop him ever doing it again.'

‘Drysi, I'm not sure–'

‘We're the only ones that can put an end to it, Father,' she said, pleading now. ‘If we don't, think of all the people Loki will kill using Hel's power. Think of what he'll do to the world.'

Fenrir looked away from her, ashamed of himself. She was right. What kind of craven coward had he become? How could he think of just running away? But she didn't understand. She didn't know the full truth.

‘You don't need to worry, Drysi,' he said, meeting her gaze once more.

‘Of course I do! Hel–'

‘Hel is of no danger to anyone.'

‘What! What do you mean? Where is she, Father? Where is Hel?'

And Fenrir told her. He told her the truth about Hel. He told her exactly where he'd hidden Hel all those years ago and exactly why she could never help Loki. When he was done, the waitress returned with the jug of milk. ‘Will you have anything else?'

‘No thanks,' Drysi replied, the corners of her lips slowly turning up in a satisfied grin. ‘I've got all I need.'

‘Is that a fact?' the waitress said, suddenly with Loki's voice. She turned to smirk at Fenrir but he was staring with disbelief at Drysi.

I should have known, a voice screamed inside his head.
I should have known!

He kicked back his chair and before it could hit the floor he had the flick-knife out and ready. But as he swung his arm towards the Loki-waitress, the steel of the blade turned bright red. Heat coursed through the handle, scorching the palm of his hand enough to make him drop it. By the time it landed on the ground, the blade had completely melted, resembling flowing magma, and flames licked all along the wooden handle.

Before he could turn to run, the heel of the waitress' hand had connected with the underside of his chin. He soared backwards in an arc, smashing through the window and landing with a heavy thud on the ground outside.

‘We're getting close now,' Ash said with her eyes fixed firmly on the phone screen.

Ex had parked the Beetle in a spot marked ‘Staff Only' a few minutes ago. They had gotten out of the car and followed Ash along the docks, moving ever closer to the blinking dot on the little screen. Eirik had left the sword in the car, deciding at the last minute that it would draw too much unwanted attention. Luckily for them, a huge freighter was coming in further down the harbour and most of the staff were too preoccupied with that to wonder why four kids and a suspicious-looking adult were wandering around the docks.

The phone started beeping frantically. Ash hit the touchscreen to silence it, then looked up at the trawler they'd arrived at.

‘Here we are,' she said.

‘You sure it's the right one?' Arthur asked. He didn't want to have come the whole way here only to get on someone else's boat.

‘It's definitely it,' Ellie said. ‘See the name on the side.
Drysi
. He named it after his daughter.'

Arthur nodded in agreement. He was still impressed by how Ellie noticed the smallest of details long before the rest of them.

‘Hello?' he called out, stepping closer to the boat. ‘Anybody home?'

When no response came, he looked back at his friends and shrugged his shoulders. ‘Guess we should take a look around,' he said, then took a short running jump onto the deck of the trawler. It swayed forwards underneath him as he landed. The rest looked at each other doubtfully and then, seeing no other option, followed him on board.

‘Anyone here?' Arthur called again, moving towards the stack. A few steps there led down into the hull. He took them and found himself face to face with a door with a round window in it. He peered through the smudged glass and could just about make the features of the lower deck: a single unmade bunk, a kitchenette with a table big enough for one person to sit at and a narrow door left open into a tight-fitting bathroom. He shook the handle but the door was firmly locked.

He turned around and had just reached the top of the stairs again when suddenly a huge man landed on the deck of the boat. The vessel bobbed violently up and down in the water with the force of the impact.

‘What–?' the man cried in surprise.

Ash turned towards him. ‘Fenrir, it's me,' she said in a soothing voice.

‘Ash.' Fenrir's face was flushed and he was out of breath. ‘What are you doing here?'

‘We've come looking for you.' She pointed out the others. ‘You remember Ellie and Ex? And that's Eirik. And you've met Arthur. We've come to ask you about Hel.'

At the mention of the name, Fenrir turned away, shaking his head and thinking how lucky he had been to get away from Loki at the café. As soon as he'd been thrown through the window, he had scrambled to his feet. Loki's laughter rang in his ears as he fled. He couldn't fight his father again. Not a second time. Fenrir was powerful but he would never be a match for the god. And he valued his own life too much to try to prove otherwise.

‘No, no, no,' he said, shaking his head violently. ‘You'll all have to go. I'm leaving now.'

‘Fenrir, please,' begged Ash.

‘I said no. You can get off or stay, I don't care. But I'm pulling out of this dock in the next minute either way. I just hope you can all swim back to land.' He pushed past Arthur down the stairs and unlocked the door, then ran back to the tiller and started to switch on the engine.

‘Mister Fenrir, sir,' Arthur said, taking a tentative step towards the man. ‘We stopped the Jormungand; we stopped Hati's Bite. If you don't help us, we have no chance of stopping Loki this time. Ash says that you know how good humanity can be. Well, please think of that. Think what Loki will destroy if we don't stop him. You don't have to come with us but, please, just tell us about the girl, what happened to her.'

His plea seemed to get through to Fenrir. He stopped what he was doing and turned to look Arthur in the eye.

‘War wound?' he asked, pointing to the eye-patch.

Arthur nodded. ‘Loki.'

Fenrir nodded back, as if he had expected that answer.

‘You fought well,' he said, ‘on the tower. You fought well but Loki … Loki is …'

He sighed then looked out at the sea. Apart from the giant freighter making its way slowly into the docks, the water was still. Dark storm clouds hung on the horizon. ‘There used to be an island out there. Clontarf Island. We lived on it for a while.' He paused for a moment, lost in the memory. ‘The island's gone now. It sank beneath the waves.' He nodded reluctantly. ‘OK. You have five minutes to ask any questions you have.' He crossed back past them, went down to the lower deck and sat at the table. They all clambered inside; it was quite a squeeze so Eirik waited by the door.

‘I'm not sure I should tell you anything,' Fenrir warned them. ‘I've already said too much today. But ask your questions – I suppose I can't do any more harm than I already have.'

‘Tell us all you can about Hel,' said Arthur.

‘Where to begin?' he mused to himself. ‘After the Father of Lies had created myself and my brother, the World Serpent, he abducted a child … a baby girl.'

He looked out through the porthole, picturing the little girl he had never had the chance to meet.

‘He took the girl from a Viking village back to Asgard. And he gave her … I don't know quite how to put it. He gave her a part of himself. He made her half god. He gave her a power that every god has but no god wants to use.'

‘What was it?' asked Arthur.

‘All the gods have the power to create,' Fenrir said, ‘but they also have the power to destroy. They can wipe something out of existence as easily as they can create it. No god will do that, though. It's just not in their nature. Gods create out of ego. They want worshippers and followers. They want people to fight wars over them and tell tales about them for centuries to come. They want to show off the landscapes they create to each other: the wildest beasts and the most delicate flowers.

‘Loki is different, however. Odin has always been the best at creation but Loki … Loki was never very good at it – just look at the abominations he made, myself included. So his ego cries out for something else: destruction. If he can't be better than the other gods, then he'll just destroy everything. But destruction takes a lot out of gods. Every time they destroy something, they destroy a part of themselves. Eventually they could destroy one thing too many and end up wiping themselves out of existence. Loki is smart though. He saw a way around this. And so he gave this power of destruction, this power of undoing creation, to the girl he called Hel.'

‘Why didn't the gods stop him?'

‘They tried to. They tried to find the girl but they couldn't. The power coursed through her and she grew. Within a couple of days, she'd reached her teenage years. The gods were looking for a baby the whole time, not a girl near grown.'

‘You told me before that she freed you,' prompted Ash. ‘How?'

‘The gods found me and bound me. They tricked me. They played on my pride and I let them bind me with a ribbon. I thought I could escape easily, but it was a magical ribbon called Gleipnir, forged by all manner of strangeness. So I just let them tie me up and then I couldn't get out. No matter how hard I tried, the ribbon held me in place. The gods left me, confident that I would be there for millennia to come.

‘But then, the next day, Hel found me. She had followed the gods to the island. I could smell Loki's magic in her blood and I knew she was there to help me. She used her destructive power on the ribbon. It was almost too strong, even for her. Gleipnir was created from dark blood magic. It was designed never to be broken. Hel used all her power to tear the ribbon in just one place and it fell apart around me. She had freed me, but in doing so she had drained so much of her own power that she almost killed herself. She fell into a deep, deep coma as a result.

‘I managed to escape Asgard. And I took the sleeping Hel with me to Dublin. I made some more wolves and formed a family for myself in Ireland, a community of sorts. And all the while, Hel was unconscious. She was asleep for almost a thousand years, and all that time I hid her from everyone, including the rest of the wolves. Even Drysi. And in that time, I grew to see humanity for what it was. I experienced the love, the friendship, the creativity. All the goodness of the human heart. So I vowed never to do Loki's bidding again and to protect Hel from him.'

He looked back at them, and as he did so the bright daylight through the porthole showed his face in high contrast. His gaze fell on Arthur, who was staring up at him and absentmindedly fiddling with the ribbon tied around his wrist.

‘What are you doing?' he asked him.

‘Nothing,' said Arthur, dropping his fingers from it. ‘It's a nervous tic. Sorry. It was my mother's; she used to do it too.'

Fenrir stared for a moment at the ribbon and when he finally continued his expression was sad.

‘Things changed about eighteen, twenty years ago. Hel woke up. I could sense Loki's dark magic flowing through her, rousing her, and I knew he had created her for something terrible. I didn't want the part of her that was Loki's gift to take over, to destroy the world that I had grown fond of. But I could also sense something else: the soul of the child she once was. I wanted that soul to have the life she should have had, the life she deserved. It was like there were two personalities inside the one woman: the one that Loki created called Hel and the innocent, stolen girl whose name I didn't know.

‘So I came up with a way of trapping the part of Loki, the bad part, inside her. Using magic I'd learned over the centuries, I wiped her memories of all the misfortune that had befallen her. I ensnared the Hel personality within the body, leaving only the human girl who had been taken. I gave her a new name and helped her start a new, happy, human life.'

His eyes were shining with tears now and his voice was starting to shake.

‘And Arthur, oh Arthur, I'm so sorry,' he said. ‘I'm so very sorry.'

‘For what?'

‘For what I'm about to tell you. If what I think is right, I'm so sorry.'

He looked down, as if in shame.

‘I gave her two names,' Fenrir continued after collecting his thoughts. ‘The first was of Celtic origin, meaning “powerful”. The second was Viking and it meant “hidden”. I thought it was very suitable. So I called her … I called her … Rhona Hilda.'

Arthur felt as if the wind had been knocked out of him. He rocked backwards, his heart pumping furiously.

‘It … it can't be,' he stuttered.

‘I'm so sorry, Arthur.'

‘What?' urged Ash. ‘What does it mean?'

‘He's saying,' Arthur said. ‘He's saying that … that Hel … Hel was my mother.'