Cursed (38 page)

Arachne gave me her equivalent of a nod. “I under-stand.”

I rose and stretched, then paused. “Arachne? I know you don’t like talking about yourself—but I’d like to know. Why did that dragon help us?”

Arachne was quiet for a little while before speaking. “A creator can be as a mother.”

I looked at her, puzzled.

“You would recognise her name.” Oddly, Arachne sounded as if she were smiling. “I expect you’ll work it out some day.”

I thought about it as I made the journey back up the tunnel, and as I did, something else occurred to me. When the dragon had given me the tooth, I’d assumed it was meant for Arachne. I’d thought that by using it against Belthas I was going against the dragon’s plan, and I’d wondered if the dragon might not be very happy about it.

But now I thought about it, the dragon had never actually
said
who I was supposed to use it on.

I stepped out into the cool night air and walked up the slope of the ravine as the entrance closed behind me with a faint rumble. There’s an old tree trunk near the ravine, one that fell many years ago. The park rangers cleaned it up and tidied away the dead branches but left the log where it was, and I sat down on it and looked up at the sky. It was a clear
night, and the autumn stars shone down through the fuzz of the city lights, the Square of Pegasus high to the southwest while Orion rose in the east. It wasn’t silent—even on the Heath, London’s never really silent—but it was as quiet as it gets. The only sounds were the faint murmur of nighttime traffic and the wind in the leaves.

I waited.

I heard him before I saw him: dragging footsteps mixed with the crunch of undergrowth. He fell once on his way up the hill, lying still for a moment before pulling himself to his feet. I waited for him to get close enough, then when he was within twenty feet I switched on my torch, keeping it pointed down and away.

The figure standing before me was a wreck. The clothes were ripped, dirty, and threadbare. The once-blond hair had been rained on and dirtied until it was a brownish mess, and the eyes blinked, squinting in the light. He looked like he’d walked the whole way from Scotland. Maybe he had.

It took a good few seconds before a light of recognition came on in those eyes. “You.”

I looked back at him steadily. “Hello, Martin.”

Martin just stared at me.

“I was expecting you sooner,” I said when Martin didn’t speak. “I guess you didn’t have anyone to give you a lift.”

“You,” Martin said again. His voice shook. “You’ve got it. Why? I’ve seen it, all of them, all of it, should be killing you, you’re just
there
, you’re sitting there, you’re …”

“You can’t learn to be a mage in a day, Martin.”

“Couldn’t be, I saw it, I had it.” Martin shook his head, distracted. “Wrong. Shouldn’t be dark, should …” He trailed off, muttering to himself.

“You know,” I said after a moment, “I spent a long time trying to figure out what to do when you made it here. And the funny thing? I realised I didn’t actually want you dead. Kind of weird. I mean, you nearly got us all killed and it’s not like I’m all that great at being forgiving.”

Martin glanced at me, then shook his head and looked away, muttering “not that, not that” under his breath. “I don’t know,” I said. “I guess I could say you can’t do us much damage anymore but that’s not really true, is it? Maybe it’s because of Luna. I think she actually loved you. God knows that was a bad enough mistake but I don’t really like the idea of her first relationship in however long ending like this.” I let out a breath. “Or maybe it’s just that I’ve seen enough people die lately.”

Martin didn’t react at Luna’s name. “So I’ll tell you the truth,” I said. “Just like that day you came into my shop. Stop using the monkey’s paw. Drop it, leave it, whatever. If you do, I promise you’ll live. I don’t know how much of your mind you’ll get back, but you’ll have a chance.”

Martin stared through me, then laughed, a high sound that made my hairs rise. “Tricking, tricking …” His eyes narrowed and he snarled. “Liar! Liar, liar, liar!
You
did it, it was you! Should have worked, all of it, your fault,
your
fault!” Martin raised his right hand. His fingers were grubby and caked with dirt but the monkey’s paw was untouched, pale in the dim light. “One more wish, you know, don’t you? Been waiting, waiting …”

“Martin,” I said. “Trust me. You don’t want to do that.”

Martin laughed again, his voice wild. “Coward liar, coward liar … I know what it does, you couldn’t, too scared! Why not, hm? All this, anyone would use it, crazy not to use it …” A fine tremor was going up his arm as he held the monkey’s paw, levelled at me like a knife. “
I
know.
You
couldn’t see.”

I sighed. “You know something, Martin? People like you—Belthas, Meredith, all of you—you make it
really
hard to be a good person. I just attacked a Light sanctum and killed pretty near everyone inside. I worked with one Dark mage and rescued another.” I stared into the darkness. “All those years ago, I ran away from Richard … but if he could see me now, would he really be all that upset?” I looked at
Martin. “And then I look at you. And I wonder how big a deal it would really be if I went the rest of the way.”

“You’re scared, I know you are.” The glow of the torch shone back from Martin’s manic eyes. “No more. All of it, I lost it, you too.” He aimed the monkey’s paw straight at me. “I wish. I wish for you to die!”

I looked back at Martin in silence.

Martin held my gaze for a moment, then puzzlement crossed his face. He looked at the monkey’s paw, shook it. “Die. Supposed to be dead, what’s wrong, why not?”

I rose, stepped to one side, not taking my eyes off Martin. He brandished the monkey’s paw at me. “Die. Die!” He snarled in rage. “Why not?
Why isn’t it working?
”

“It’s working,” I said quietly. I could feel a surge of magic building from inside the item, slow but inexorable, like a rolling wave. I began backing away along the ridge. Martin didn’t seem to notice; he stood in the edge of the cone of light from the torch, shaking the monkey’s paw. “No, no, no. Not now, not now. Work! Have to work!” He stared down at it. “You promised. Do it. Come and do it.” The monkey’s paw sat silently and Martin’s voice rose to a scream. “Come out! COME OUT!”

Something came out.

I can’t remember what it looked like. It’s not that I didn’t see it; I did. But when I try to remember, all I get is a blank. I don’t think it was the light. I think my mind got one glimpse and shut out the rest, like tripping a circuit breaker. I don’t know why and I don’t want to. Even my curiosity has its limits.

I ran. Behind me I heard Martin start to shriek, a high, horrible sound with no trace of sanity. I ran down the slope as fast as I could, every trace of my attention on the two or three seconds of footsteps ahead of me as the shrieking continued. Cool air whistled around me, the grass swishing under my feet. The shrieks rose in pitch and intensity, then abruptly cut off. The echoes rolled out over the Heath, fading into silence.

I kept running and didn’t look back. I reached the edge of the Heath before collapsing against a tree, my lungs on fire and my legs shaking. Only then did I dare to look behind me. The Heath stretched out into the night, dark and empty.

I sucked in a deep breath and started running again.

I
t was after three
A.M.
when I got home. The new window gleamed orange in the streetlights as I unlocked my front door with shaking hands. Once I was inside with the door closed behind me, I felt a little better. I went upstairs, stripped off my clothes, and took a shower.

I stayed under the hot water for a long time, letting the water wash away the sweat and the cold. Once I was warm again I towelled myself dry and went to my bedroom. I got halfway across the room and stopped.

The monkey’s paw was resting on my bed. The cylinder was open just a crack, the inner tube pulled out half an inch but not quite enough to reveal what might be inside. I stood looking at it for a long time. “So you’ve come back,” I said at last.

The monkey’s paw sat quietly. Carefully I picked it up, and carefully I walked out of my bedroom, being very sure not to jar the cylinder and slide it open. I opened the door to my safe room and placed the monkey’s paw on an empty space of table, well away from everything else. I looked down at it, then walked out, switching off the light.

Behind me, in the darkness, the monkey’s paw snapped shut with a faint click.

Coming September 2012 from Ace Books

T
he Starbucks in Angel is on the corner of the busy intersection of Pentonville Road and Upper Street, set deep into the offices around it but with a glass front that lets in the light. The counter’s at ground level, but climbing to the first floor gives a view down onto the high street and the crowds streaming in and out of Angel station. Opposite the Starbucks is Angel Square, a huge, sprawling, weirdly designed office building checkered in orange and yellow and topped with a clock tower. The clock tower looks down onto City Road, a long downhill highway linking Kings Cross and the city. It was eleven
A.M.
and the morning rush was long past, but the roads and pavements were still crowded, the steady growl of engines muffled through the glass.

Inside, the shop was peaceful. Two women in professional-looking outfits chatted over their lattes and muffins, while a stolid-looking man with greying hair hid behind his
Times
. A student sat absorbed in his laptop, and three men in
business suits were bent over a tableful of spreadsheets, their drinks forgotten. Music played quietly over the speakers, and the clatter of cups and coffee machines drifted up from the floor below. And near the window, my chair turned so that I could watch both the street and anyone coming in, was me.

I like the Angel Starbucks for meetings. It’s easy to reach, there’s a nice view, and it’s just the right balance between public and private. It’s quiet except at lunchtime, since most of the trendy people go to the cafes north along Upper Street, but it’s not so quiet as to give anyone ideas. I’d probably like it even more if I drank coffee. Then again, given how much people like to complain about Starbucks’s coffee, maybe I wouldn’t.

I’d already checked out the surroundings and the other customers, so when the woman walked into the shop downstairs I was free to focus on her. There are two ways of getting a look at someone with divination magic: You can look into the futures of you approaching them, or you can look into the futures of them approaching you. The first is better if you want to study them; the second is better if you want advance warning of what they’re going to do. I chose the first, and by the time the woman stepped onto the first floor, I’d been watching her for nearly a minute.

She was good-looking—
really
good-looking, with gold hair and sculpted features that made me think of old English aristocracy. She wore a cream-coloured suit that probably cost more than my entire wardrobe, and everyone in the room turned to look as she passed. The three men forgot about their spreadsheets, and the two women put their chatter on hold, watching her with narrowed eyes. Her heels clicked to a stop as she looked down at me. “Alex Verus?”

“That’s me,” I said.

She sat opposite, legs together. I felt the eyes of everyone in the room switch to me, comparing the woman’s outfit
with my rumpled trousers and sweater. Now that she was on the same level I could see that it wasn’t just the heels, she really was tall, almost as tall as me. She carried nothing but a small handbag. “Coffee?”

She glanced at a slim gold watch. “I only have half an hour.”

“Suits me.” I leant back on the chair. “Why don’t you tell me what you’re after?”

“I need—”

I held up my hand. “I was hoping you might introduce yourself first.”

There was a brief flash of irritation in her eyes, but it vanished quickly. “I’m Crystal.”

I already knew her name. In fact, I’d gone out of my way to find out quite a bit about Crystal in the two days since she’d contacted me to request a meeting. I knew she was a Light mage, one of the “nobility” with lots of connections. I knew she wasn’t a player in Council politics but had friends there. I knew the type of magic she could use, where in England she was based, and even roughly how old she was. What I didn’t know was what she wanted me for—but I was about to find out. “So what can I do for you?”

“I expect you know about the White Stone?”

“The tournament?”

Crystal nodded. “Isn’t it due to start soon?” I said.

“The opening ceremony will be this Friday,” Crystal said. “At Fountain Reach.”

“Okay.”

“Fountain Reach is my family home.”

My eyebrows went up at that. “Okay.”

“I want you to help manage the event,” Crystal said. “It’s very important that everything goes smoothly.”

“Manage how?”

“Providing additional protection. A diviner would be perfect for that.”