Half Wild (23 page)

“Yes, she—” Gus begins.

Van interrupts. “Mercury’s dead.”

“Killed by Hunters?”

“No. Killed by . . . us.” And she waves her hand vaguely toward Nesbitt, Gabriel, and me. “In self-defense, I hasten to add, and with this as my memento.” And she turns her face to the light to show her burns. “But even if she was alive, I couldn’t imagine Mercury joining the Alliance. She would have seen no benefit to herself in joining, no . . . honor in it. I understand that. There are several Black Witches as powerful as Mercury: Linden, Dell, Suave . . . but they all think the same way. All the most powerful Blacks will surely be unwilling to risk everything to fight with us—except one. Fortunately he’s the most powerful of them all.” And she looks at me and somehow I knew it was coming to this all along.

“Marcus?” I ask.

“If he joins there’s a chance others will too,” Van says.

Gus smirks. “If he joins we won’t need the others.”

“Is this why I’m really here, why you wanted me to join the Alliance: to somehow bring in Marcus?”

“No. I want you because you’re an excellent fighter,” Celia says. “And I don’t want Marcus. He’ll cause too many problems with the Whites in the Alliance.”

“Including yourself, Celia?” Van asks.

She doesn’t answer but she’s having to think hard.

“Nathan has put his past behind him and come to work with you. We all must do the same if we’re to move forward,” Van says.

Celia still doesn’t answer.

I say, “I can’t see him joining anyway.”

“But you’d be willing to try to persuade him?” Van asks.

“Well . . .” I’m not sure.

“No. We haven’t agreed to this.” Celia looks around the table. “Marcus is murderous. He’s killed too many White Witches. The rebels won’t stand for it.”

“They won’t stand for losing,” Van says. “Marcus will make all the difference to the Alliance’s success. Yes, he’s killed many White Witches but he’s killed a lot of Black Witches too. Most importantly, he’s killed lots of Hunters. And everyone knows that. They may not like him but the White rebels want more than anything to be on the winning side because, if they lose, they’ll find no mercy from Soul. Marcus will make it a winning side.”

Celia says, “I can organize our army without him. We’ll manage it. It’ll take time but—”

“You said yourself a minute ago that we need to attack immediately. And I agree; if we don’t stop Jessica now our fight will only get harder. Exactly how many people do you have that can fight, Celia?” Van asks.

“There are nearly a hundred in the Alliance. I’m training the able ones and—”

“How many could you send out to fight the Hunters today?”

Celia sticks out her lip and glances at me. “At this moment? Very few.”

“How few?” Van persists.

“Including myself, Nathan, Gabriel . . . nine.”

Gus shakes his head.

“But the training is coming on well; they’re just not fighters at the moment. The younger ones, the ones with certain Gifts, will be good soldiers in a few months—”

“We won’t have a few months if the Hunter army grows,” Van says. “And if this is a new society we are creating, a new order, we should be willing to forgive past crimes and go forward together.”

“But—”

“No, Celia. All witches must be given a chance, even Marcus. If he then breaks our rules, that’s different, but past crimes should be under amnesty.”

Grace says, “This is going nowhere. We need to vote on it. A representative of each part of the Alliance: White Witches, Black Witches, Half Bloods, and Half Codes. Nesbitt, you vote for half Blacks, Ellen for half Whites. Celia for White Witches, Van for Blacks, and you for the Half Codes, Nathan.”

“Those in favor?” asks Van.

Hands go up round the table. Everyone apart from me and Celia votes to invite Marcus to join the Alliance.

“So three to two, the vote is carried,” Grace says. She looks at me. “Why did you vote against, Nathan?”

I don’t know the answer, except that I don’t think my father will fit with these people: people who vote. I remember Wolfgang’s story about him killing his friend and I have a bad feeling—he’s too wild. But I don’t mention that; I just say, “It’s a waste of time. We have no way of contacting him and he won’t join anyway.”

Gus says, “You’re wrong. I do have a way of contacting him—and it’s your job to get him to join.”

“You’ve got his phone number?” Nesbitt smirks.

“How I contact him is confidential,” Gus replies.

“Fine,” Celia says. “How soon, though?” She’s full of urgency now. She’s not happy about Marcus but she’s used to working for Hunters and doing what she’s told. I know she’ll just get on with it.

“I’ll arrange for Nathan to meet him in the next few days. I can’t promise faster than that.”

Celia turns to me. “If he joins us then he must understand the terms.”

“What terms?” I ask.

“He follows my orders, as all the fighters do.”

“That’s it?”

“In battle and at camp. He has to behave . . . like a soldier.”

I can’t imagine Marcus doing any of this.

Celia continues. “I need to meet with him as soon as I can. I’m sure you’ll tell him all about me.”

“Yes, I’ll make sure he knows the conditions you kept me in. What was your phrase? ‘I wouldn’t want him to think you were in any state of comfort.’”

Celia straightens and I wonder if she’ll say, “I was only doing my duty” or “following orders” or some crap like that but she doesn’t. She was never the sort to deny responsibility.

* * *

The group disperses. I have time to catch Celia alone before she goes and I ask about Deborah. “Has she left England yet?”

Celia hesitates before replying. “She says her work is too important. Everyone on the Council knows that in the past her sympathies have been with you but she’s also Jessica’s sister and somehow she’s managed to convince them that she’s changed. She’s still working in the records department. It’s through her that we’ve learned of the Hunters’ past movements and their future plans. It’s vital information, but even so I’ve told her she should leave. She’s chosen to stay, though. She’s trying to get more information on Wallend and his experiments on the Black Witch prisoners. She’s incredibly brave.”

I don’t know what to say. Deborah always was brave. If she believes something is right, that’s that; there’s no other way for her.

Celia moves off to talk to Van, and Ellen comes over to say good-bye.

I say, “Tell Arran I hope to see him soon. I think of him loads.”

She nods. “I will. He’ll be so pleased you’re with the Alliance but more pleased that you’re alive and well, and that you got your three gifts. Was it Mercury who performed the Giving ceremony for you?” And, by the way she asks, I’m fairly sure she knows it wasn’t.

I shake my head. “Marcus did it.”

Ellen smiles. “So that’s why they think you’ll be able to persuade him to join. They know that he wants to help his son.”

Celia calls, “Ellen, we’re going. Now.”

And Ellen throws her arms round me and hugs me and I notice Celia watching, a look of surprise on her face. Celia still sees me as more Black than White, more violent than gentle. Ellen treats me as a person rather than a Half Code. But she’s a Half Blood; she knows what it’s like to be judged by a label rather than the person you are.

A minute after they go Van says that she, Annalise, and Nesbitt are returning to the bunker and that Gabriel will stay with me here while I try to make contact with Marcus. We’ll all meet again at the Red Gourd in a week.

I have a short time to say good-bye to Annalise. I pull her over to the side of the room, not to talk but just to hold her and say good-bye quietly, without everyone staring at us, which they are doing anyway, except for Gabriel, who is standing at the bar with his back to us.

“Are you worried about your father joining the Alliance?” she asks.

“A bit. But I don’t think he’ll join anyway. I don’t think he’ll be interested, not in me, not in the rebels.”

“You’re his son. He cares about you. He found you for your Giving.”

“That’s different. He made it as short and as unsweet as possible. He doesn’t trust me. He won’t fight with me. And I can’t see him following Celia’s orders and acting ‘like a soldier.’ It just won’t work.”

Annalise kisses me and says, “Talking of working with Celia, I’m so proud of you, that you agreed to work with her after how she’s treated you in the past, what you’ve been through with her.” She kisses me again and leans close. “You’re my hero. My prince.” She kisses my ear and then whispers, “I love you.”

And I’m not sure I’ve heard her right but I know I have and I don’t know what to say.

She moves to kiss my lips and look into my eyes, and with her lips close to mine she whispers again, “I love you.”

And I think I ought to say it back but it’s really difficult and I’m sure everyone’s listening, and then she says, “I’ve got to go. They’re waiting.”

And I kiss her.

And I’ve still not said it.

And she’s moving away from me and I pull her back and I put my lips to her ear and I manage to say it, incredibly quietly. And she starts to giggle and I can’t help but smile. And we kiss again. And then harder and I’m not bothered about the others anymore.

There’s a loud cough and clearing of the throat from Nesbitt. Annalise giggles again but I keep kissing her until she slides out of my grasp.

And they’re gone.

And it was over too quick but I did say it and so did she. And we’ll be together again in a week. Just one more week and I’ll see her again.

We’re still in the pub. Gus and I are sitting in the booth. Gabriel is standing at the bar, sipping a beer and eating a bag of nuts, occasionally throwing one up in the air and catching it in his mouth. Gus is bigging himself up, and his role in this “mission,” and I’m trying my best to knock him down. It’s childish of him and of me, and I’m not sure which of us is the bigger kid.

Gus says, “Marcus has a few contacts in the Black Witch community. Those he knows he can trust and rely on, those who will never betray him.”

“Is anyone stupid enough to try?” I ask.

Gus ignores me. “Marcus likes to know what’s happening in the world. But he rarely goes to gatherings these days. He relies on me for information.”

“Just you? Didn’t you say he has a few contacts?”

“It doesn’t matter who else he uses.”

“So you don’t know who they are.”

“What is important is that he trusts me.”

“You’re very honored.”

“What I am is extremely discreet and equally cautious.”

I yawn.

“I leave messages for him in a secret place and he picks them up. He knows I’ll be leaving him another message in the next twenty-four hours.”

I stretch and look over to Gabriel. He’s moved on from catching the peanuts to missing them and sending them bouncing off his nose and cheeks.

I’m telling myself this is serious; in fact, it is very serious—if not deadly serious—but Gabriel seems to think that the mood needs to be lightened and he’s doing his best to make me smile. He throws a handful of nuts up in the air and turns to look at me, mouth open as the nuts shower over him, and I snigger.

Gus can’t see Gabriel from where he’s sitting but looks round and works it out. “You can clear that mess up now!” he shouts and Gabriel does a mock salute and throws another nut in the air, which he catches perfectly in his teeth and crunches on.

Gus says to me, “You’re like children.”

I shout to Gabriel, “Gus thinks we’re not serious enough!”

Gabriel replies, “Gus doesn’t know us very well at all.”

“That’s fine with me.”

Gus curls his lip. “And with me too.”

“OK. So we leave a message for Marcus to meet me somewhere,” I say.

“No, dipshit. You wait for him where I leave the messages. You’re the message.”

I swear at him and ask, “When?” I expect him to say dawn or midnight or something like that.

Instead he says, “Now. The sooner you’re out of my sight, the better.”

“I need some lunch first, for me and Gabriel. We’ll go after that.”

Gus sneers. “This is more important than your stomach.”

And I want to say that yes, of course it is. But, on the other hand, I haven’t eaten since I don’t know when, and if I go to see my father I’m not sure when I’ll eat again, and I’m hungry and now I’m totally pissed off.

I get to my feet and walk out of the booth, saying to Gabriel, “Let’s get something to eat.”

Gus says, “You spoiled brat. This mission is more important than you—or do you think that because your father is Marcus you can swagger in here and expect everyone to run around after you?”

Gabriel is by me now and I don’t turn back to Gus because if I do I might kill him. I carry on to the door, saying to Gabriel, “I’m hungry. Let’s go.”

“You shouldn’t risk being seen,” Gus snarls.

Gabriel stares at Gus. “You should make sure he doesn’t leave. You should get him something to eat. You’re the fool.”

Gus is no fool, of course, but he is a Black Witch, and no lover of Half Codes, and he’s not going to back down. So Gabriel and I walk out of the Red Gourd onto the street. When we get round the corner I suddenly remember practicalities.

“Have you got any money?”

“As a matter of fact—and I have to say I hope you’re as impressed with me as I am—yes, I do.”

“Buy me lunch then?”

“Anytime.”

We find a small Italian restaurant and order mountains of pasta but I eat only a little.

“Yours no good?” Gabriel asks.

“It’s OK. Gus ruined my appetite.” I stab a piece of pasta with my fork. “He despises me for not being a ‘proper’ Black Witch and for being the spoiled son of the blackest Black Witch.”

“Some you lose and some you lose.”

“Sounds like my life. Though it doesn’t look promising for the Alliance. We’re hardly one happy family. If all Blacks are like Gus . . .”

“I hate to bear bad news, Nathan, but most of them are. No one’s used to trusting witches who are different from them. Even here in Europe, they’re just used to ignoring them. Gus would love to ignore you but he can’t.”

“Great.”

“We can only hope that once he realizes what a wonderful, warm personality you have he’ll become one of your greatest admirers.”

I start to laugh.

Gabriel leans back and smiles at me. “So, as one of your current greatest admirers, can you tell me what’s happening? What’s the plan?”

I nod and tell him everything Gus told me.

“Gus would be very upset if he knew you’d divulged his top-secret information,” Gabriel says.

“
Would
be? I hope he will be.”

“You want me to let him know you told me?”

“Make him suffer.”

Gabriel smiles. “It’ll be good to have an objective while you’re away.”

* * *

Two hours later Gus has taken me out of the old town and into a smart area of closely packed houses. These aren’t exactly new but they’re grander and each one stands in its own walled garden. We look more than a little out of place: the people around here are well-dressed fains, smiling and looking happy with their position in the world. We turn down a side street. There are no cars here and it looks like the back entrances to the houses, high walls with gates in each.

Gus stops at one old worn gate, pulls out a large rusty key, and opens the gate.

Inside is a garden: small and surrounded by the high walls. The garden is completely overgrown with bushes. There’s one old tree and a shed that’s falling down.

“You wait here until he comes,” Gus says. As if I’m going to do anything else, as if I’m going to do it just because he says so.

I call him an idiot or words to that effect with some swearing to enhance it.

And it seems as though that’s all he’s wanted and he’s got me by the throat and a knife is in his hand and he’s saying, “You cocky little mong bastard. Just do as you’re told. You’re not worth shit. You’re not a true Black; you’re not even a true White. So do the thing you’re here to do and—”

I push forward so that the knife is digging into my throat and Gus pulls back, surprised. I knock the knife out of his hand and punch him short and hard, then turn and elbow him in the stomach. He’s big and all muscle but it’s got to hurt a little.

We stand there, staring at each other, and I tell him, “Just go.”

“And you just do your job.” He turns to leave but before opening the gate he says, “With your father the Alliance will win. And, when we’ve won, I’ll be settling down to a world where Whites get on with their lives and I get on with mine, like we’ve managed here for hundreds of years. I won’t go near them and don’t want them near me, and everyone should do the same so there’s no more of your kind around.” And he spits on the ground.

A few minutes after he’s left I’ve calmed down enough to think over what he’s said. According to Gus I’m not a true witch as I’m not pure Black or pure White. According to Gabriel I’m the ultimate witch, being the reunion of Black and White. According to White Witches I’m Black. According to Van I’m just an ordinary witch. And according to my father . . . I’m not sure what he thinks. Maybe I should find out when he comes. But I’m not going to ask any stupid questions about what he thinks of me.