Half Wild (5 page)

My knife is already in my hand as I step toward the man, grabbing his jacket, using my momentum to push him to the ground and kneeling on his chest, the blade at his throat.

“OK, mate, OK,” he says. He sounds more irritated than afraid.

“Shut up!” I snap.

The blade of my knife is pushing down on his neck but only the flat of it so it won’t cut. I scan around to see if he’s alone. I think he is but he could have a friend. I see nothing but the dark shapes of trees, the fire, and the coffeepot.

“Who are you? What are you doing here?” I demand.

“Don’t suppose you’d believe me if I said I just like being in the great outdoors?”

“Don’t suppose you’d mind me cutting your tongue out if you can’t tell the truth?”

“Crikey, mate. Just having a little joke, a bit of banter.”

I push the knife into his neck so blood dribbles out. “I can cut it out from here, I think.”

“Nesbitt—the name’s Nesbitt. And you’re Nathan, aren’t you?”

I can’t decide if confirming this would make any difference but I don’t think it’ll help so I say, “What are you doing here, Nesbitt?”

“The boss sent me.”

“Sent you to do what?”

“Run an errand.”

“And the errand is . . . ?”

“A private matter.”

“A private matter that you’re willing to fail to carry out because you’ll have your tongue cut out, your innards made outtards, your—”

He flips his body, jerks my arm away, and grabs me. He’s bigger than me, much heavier, and strong too, but I break his hold and roll from him to my feet. He’s on his feet too now: he’s faster than he looks.

He says, “You’re quick.”

“You’d be quicker if you got into shape.”

He frowns. “Not so bad for my age.” He slaps his belly. “And you’re not so bad for a dead kid.”

I stand more upright, feigning relaxation. “Where did you hear I’d died?”

He grins. “I didn’t hear you’d died. I
saw
you.”

“You saw me? Dead? What? In a vision or something?”

“Vision! Nah. You don’t remember, do you? Well, I guess you weren’t in a fit state. You did see me, though, but . . . you called me Rose, which I—”

“What? You saw me when I was injured? You were in the forest too?”

“Yeah, oh yeah. I followed you from the train station. Got lucky that day. I was on my way to— Well, never mind that.” He grins and winks. “But I spotted you and I spotted the Hunter. She hadn’t seen you but she would have, and quickly too, if I hadn’t distracted her and given you time to get away. Mind you, you left a trail a mile wide. A child could have followed that trail. I had my work cut out tidying up after you. But we lost the Hunter and I followed you through the forest.

“I stayed close behind you but when I had a nap you wandered off. I found you in a village shop. You were trying to read the newspaper, trying to work out what day it was. It was painful to watch, mate. It was two days before your birthday. You really don’t remember any of that?”

I shake my head.

“Well, I got you back to the forest, still checking whether you were being followed, which I thought was a dead cert after the shop. To be honest, mate, I thought there wasn’t much hope for you—I guess you had a Hunter bullet in you?”

I nod.

“Yep, well, I went to tidy up your trail—
again—
and when I got back it looked like you’d had a go at a bit of surgery on yourself, blood and yellow gunk everywhere, and . . . you looked pretty dead to me. Your skin was gray—gray and cold, mate—and your eyes were half open too, just blank, dead-looking.”

“Do you have my knife? The knife I cut myself with?”

He looks around and up as if in thought. “No.”

“But you took it from me.”

“No, I took a knife from beside a body, which I thought was a dead body, on account of it looking very dead and with eyes half open and dead-looking.”

“I want the knife back.”

“I’m sure you do. But I don’t have it anymore. Sorry, mate.”

“Does your boss have it?”

He shrugs and smiles.

Rose died getting that knife and Gabriel’s probably dead because of it, and Nesbitt just shrugs and smirks. So I kick at him, high on the chest. He’s strong but I’ve surprised him and all my weight is on his chest now and I’m pushing the point of the knife into his throat. A new trickle of blood runs down his neck. “Does your boss have it?”

“Yes.”

“Who is your boss?”

“Take the knife away and I’ll tell you.”

I push the knife further in. “Tell me.” Blood is running freely now. He’s healing but not fast enough.

“You make a convincing argument, kid. Me boss is Victoria van Dal.”

I get the feeling he wanted to tell me anyway, to impress me.

“Victoria van Dal?” I’ve never heard of her. I guess she’s a Black Witch if her friend was helping me escape from Hunters. I take the knife from Nesbitt’s neck and wipe it clean on his jacket. I say, “I’ve heard her name. She’s a White Witch, isn’t she?”

“A White? Van? Kid, come on. Crikey, you’ve got the wrong woman there. She’s a Black Witch. Black through and through. Great admirer of your father. And greatly admired by all Black Witches herself.”

“So let’s get back to the original question. Why did she send you here?”

He hesitates.

“I can still cut your tongue out.”

“I’m not sure you’re a cutting-tongues-out kinda guy.”

“I admit I haven’t done it before but I am an open-to-new-experiences kinda guy, a willing-to-have-a-go kinda guy, a what-the-heck-it’s-only-Nesbitt’s-tongue kinda guy.”

And, although I’m sort of joking, I see Nesbitt’s face lose its jokiness.

“I’ve come to pick something up. Some letters.”

I stand up and he starts to rise but I push him back down with my foot.

He says, “I’m guessing that you’ve got them.” Then he holds his arms out wide and says, “Which is OK. Which is fine. All I’ll ask is that you give them to me so that I can give them to Van.”

“And, supposing I did have these letters, why would I give them to you?”

“Well, Van’ll be horrible if you don’t. Horrible to me, mate. Which I’m sure is a concern to you even though you’re hiding it well.” He relaxes back on the ground and looks up at me. “She’ll be horrible to me and she’ll be horrible to your friend too.”

“What friend?” I push harder with my foot.

“Well, I’m assuming he’s your friend,” he says. “The good-looking bloke with the hair. French. Has a girl’s name.”

I stare but see nothing. I feel sick with fear and excitement and daren’t believe it.

“Gabri
el
,” he says, emphasizing the “elle.”

“He’s alive?”

Nesbitt grins and nods. “You gonna let me up so I can tell you?”

And I feel like all this has been a bit of fun for Nesbitt. It’s his idea of a game.

We sit by his fire and Nesbitt makes a fresh pot of coffee and lays out his food for me: bread, cheese, tomatoes, crisps, an apple, and chocolate. I stare at it and lick my lips. I could eat it all in half a minute but I’m not sure I can trust him so I don’t touch any of it.

“You look half starved, mate. Tuck in.”

I don’t answer and don’t move.

He takes the baguette, rips the end off, and bites into it, chews, swallows, and hands the rest of the loaf to me, saying, “It’s not that fresh but it’s the best I’ve got.”

I eat the food as slowly as I can. Nesbitt drinks his coffee and watches me.

I ask him, “Why do you keep staring at me?”

“You’re sort of famous, kid. You know: son of Marcus; half White and half Black . . . and, to be frank, you’ve got freaky eyes.”

I swear at him about the son-of-Marcus thing and swear at him about being a Half Code and then swear at him about my eyes.

“Hey, don’t take it bad! You asked, I answered. But shit, mate, your eyes look real nasty when you do that.”

Do what? All I did was look at him. I swear at him again.

“Can’t believe no one’s told you that before.”

I remember Annalise saying she liked my eyes, found them fascinating, but I don’t think I’m looking at Nesbitt the same way I looked at her.

In the firelight I can see that his eyes are unusual too, an aquamarine blue and green that swirls around as if in a current. Ellen has eyes like his. She’s a Half Blood—half fain and half witch—and I guess Nesbitt is as well.

I ask him, “You’re half something too. Half Blood?”

“Proud to be half Black.”

“Not proud to be half fain?”

He shrugs. “I am what I am.”

“And proud to work for Victoria van Dal?”

“Well, I call Van ‘my boss’ as a bit of a private joke. We’re more like partners.”

“Yeah? What’s she like?”

“She’s special: talented and beautiful. Beautiful hair, beautiful eyes, beautiful skin. She’s generally beautiful all over. Not that I’ve seen her all over, if you know what I mean, kid. Strictly business, our relationship. And she keeps herself well covered up. It’s like she’s from a different time. You know, when people dressed up and took pride in their appearance.”

I look down at myself and hold my arms out.

“No, I don’t suppose you do know what I mean,” says Nesbitt.

“I know she’s a thief.”

“A thief?”

“She sent you to steal Gabriel’s letters and she has my knife.”

“Well, as I said, stealing off a dead body isn’t technically stealing.”

“What is it?”

Nesbitt looks like he gives this serious thought, then shrugs and says, “Tidying up the countryside in your case, kid.” He grins. “Like picking up litter.”

“But taking the letters is stealing; they don’t belong to you.”

“Well, for a start, I haven’t taken them cos they ain’t here. Though I’m guessin’ you have ’em.”

I blank him.

He continues. “And anyway it wouldn’t be stealing cos Gabriel told Van where they were. Said she could have them.”

“Uh-huh. And why would Gabriel do that?”

“He wants to thank Van for her help.” Nesbitt looks all innocent at me, begging me to ask what Van did. And I have to comply.

“What help?”

“Gabriel was in a bad way when we found him. He’d been shot. Hunter bullets, two of them. You know how bad they can be. They weren’t serious wounds, and the bullets had passed through, but even so the magic did its stuff. He was out of it for a week. Van nursed him. She’s good with potions, very good, the best. She saved him. Much like I saved you and—”

“You left me to die slowly from my wound.”

“I hid your trail.”

I shake my head at him. “So you wouldn’t be caught.”

“Kid! Mate! How can you say that?”

I roll my eyes. “Where did you find Gabriel?”

“He was staggering down a backstreet in Geneva. Coppers everywhere. Hunters everywhere else. What a mess! Van drove through it all like a demon, scooped Gabriel up, and off we scarpered into the night.”

“And Gabriel is OK now?”

“Fit as a fiddle.”

“So why didn’t he come for the letters himself?”

“Ah. Well, there’s a bit of a trust issue, isn’t there? We don’t want him running off without handing over the goods.”

“I’m sure Gabriel could be trusted to show his gratitude if, as you say, Van saved his life.”

Nesbitt smiles at me again and shrugs. “Yeah, true, kid. Peace and lurve and all that. But it’s in the nature of Black Witches to not always act as they should. Particularly the good-looking French ones, I’ve found.”

“So, where’s Gabriel now?”

“With Van, near Geneva. Not far. A few hours by car.”

“You can take me then—because, as it happens, I do have the letters.
I’ll
give them to Gabriel and he can do what he wants with them.” I give Nesbitt one of my best stares.

Nesbitt shudders, then laughs. “Sounds like a plan. Leave now or tomorrow?”

I think about it. I haven’t slept properly for ages; it would be good to rest before we go. But I don’t want to sleep near Nesbitt. I still don’t trust him. And I don’t trust the animal inside me either.

“Tomorrow,” I say. “I’ve got something to do. I’ll be back in the morning.” Though all I’ve got to do is rest and think.

As I’m about to leave I ask him, “Do you have a Gift, Nesbitt?” He’s a Half Blood but I think he has one.

“I can see in the dark. Real well.”

“Useful.”

“And you?” he asks. “You were trying to get back to Mercury for your birthday. I’m guessing you had your Giving. But have you found your Gift yet?”

“I was brought up to think it rude to ask a witch about their Gift.”

“So how come you asked me? You forgetting your good manners, kid?”

I swear at him, telling him where to go to.

“Whites have strange ideas of what’s polite, that’s for sure. And you’re a lot like them. Half White, brought up by them . . .”

Nesbitt is just pushing buttons, trying to find one that gets me going. Everything he says is some kind of niggle or angle or joke.

“So?” he asks. “Have you found your Gift?”

I don’t answer. I’m too tired. I just turn and walk away. I know I’m nothing like any White Witch I’ve ever met, neither the good ones nor the bad. And Nesbitt is not like anyone I’ve ever met before.

* * *

The night’s cool. It’s late July and, although the days are hot, we’re high in the mountains and there are pockets of snow in the gullies on the north-facing valley wall. As I trek away from Nesbitt I try to work out how much of what he said is true.

It sounds like Gabriel was shot by Hunters as he tried to lure them away from me. He saved my life and risked his own in the process. And Van and Nesbitt rescued him but I don’t understand why. Surely they didn’t go to all that trouble just for some letters. It sounds like Van and Nesbitt came to Geneva at the same time as the Hunters. Could they have come for me? Could they be working with the Hunters in some way? Gabriel did tell me that Hunters use Half Bloods as informants. For all I know, Victoria van Dal doesn’t exist and Nesbitt has been sent by Hunters. But that doesn’t feel right. Why wouldn’t they just come themselves?

And, if Victoria van Dal
does
exist, what does she really want? Me? The tin of letters? Gabriel told me that in the letters is something special—a recipe for a potion or instructions for a spell is what I’d always assumed. Whatever it is, Gabriel was going to give it to Mercury if she succeeded in helping him turn from a fain back into a witch. But Mercury never seemed in any rush to do that. If this thing was so amazing, wouldn’t she have been more keen to get her hands on it?

Then there’s the biggest question of them all: is Gabriel really alive? He must have told Van about the cave but who knows what’s happened to him since?

There’s no way for me to know the truth of any of this. All my life I’ve been told how untrustworthy Black Witches are but so far they seem just about as trustworthy as anyone else. All I can do is go with Nesbitt and hope he’ll take me to Gabriel. I don’t have any other options.

On the positive side (and positivity is my middle name) Nesbitt says Van has the Fairborn. We went through so much to get that knife, to steal it from Clay, and I want it back. If I do ever get the chance to return it to my father I will.

I find a sheltered spot on a steep hillside and curl up between the roots of a fir tree. I take a deep breath, exhale slowly. I need to sleep, I need to rest. Tomorrow I’ll see Gabriel.

* * *

I jump awake. It’s still dark. I’ve no idea how long I’ve slept. A few hours, maybe. I listen out for any noise, scan for any movement in the dark shadows of the trees.

Nothing.

I lie back down and close my eyes but I’m wide awake. I don’t want to sleep anymore. I want to go to Gabriel.

I’m fully dressed and I always sleep with my arm through one loop of my rucksack so all I have to do is stand and I’m ready to go. I set off, eager to see Nesbitt, eager to get going.

The forest is silent and still. Nothing moving except me. But something is different. I stop and listen.

Silence.

The sky is lightening now, pale blue, not much more than white. I stop by a tiny spring. I know the water tastes good: I’ve been here many times before. There’s moss on the jagged stones, the water seeps and dribbles rather than flows, and the life it brings is lime-green, plump moss. I hold my hand against the rock and let it fill with water.

That’s when I hear it.

c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h

It’s not buzzing. I don’t know why I think of it as buzzing—that doesn’t describe it at all. It’s static. The only way to put it into words is to say it’s the sound of electricity. The sound of a mobile phone.

Nesbitt didn’t have a mobile with him earlier.

Fains do, and so do Hunters.

Has Nesbitt betrayed me already?

I let the water fall, wipe my hand on my jeans, and draw my knife. The cave is across and down the slope from me, a few hundred meters away, and I move toward it. The hiss is faint but getting slightly stronger. I can feel the animal adrenaline rise a little but I breathe slowly, in and out, calm myself, concentrate on what’s happening.

c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h
c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h c h

I’m twenty meters from the cave, level with it, my knife in my hand.

C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H C H

There’s movement below me, a black figure partly hidden by the forest. Then there’s a grunt. I tread softly but quickly down. The black figure moves away from me and is lost in the trees. Only Hunters can be that fast and quiet—no fain could do it. And I follow. We’re racing downhill, fast and silent, and I gain on the figure and see it’s not one but two men in black. And I’m jumping down a small cliff and sliding down the slope on my backside and I’m up again and below them now but they’re further along and I see one black figure leap downhill onto the first. And I run to them and slow. The two black figures are fighting on a small area of flatter ground.

It’s not two Hunters. It’s Nesbitt. The Hunter was chasing him but now Nesbitt has got his arm round the Hunter’s neck. The Hunter’s face is quickly turning purple. Nesbitt looks up as I step toward him but he doesn’t change his grip on the Hunter.

“Kid, you gave me a scare. For a minute I thought you were the other one. I’d love to ask this fella a few questions.”

The Hunter Nesbitt is holding I recognize as Kieran’s partner.

“He won’t tell you anything and we’ve got bigger problems,” I say. “The other one’s invisible. And fast,” I remember to add.

“Great.”

Nesbitt keeps hold of the Hunter and his body jerks and struggles but seems to know it’s already lost. It gives up. Hangs there. It twitches once again and then is still. Nesbitt lowers the body to the ground.

“I know the other Hunter,” I say. “He wants me.” And I know I want him too, and I think I can take him but I’m not sure, if he’s invisible. I wonder if the animal in me will come to help.

I look up the slope. We’ve come a long way.

I say, “Your best chance is to run. I’ll deal with the other one.”

“Sure?”

I keep scanning the mountainside above me but it’s all still and quiet. “Keep out of the way for a few hours is my advice.”

“This one hasn’t got a gun. Just a knife,” Nesbitt says. “They weren’t prepared.”

“Are you staying or going?”

Nesbitt grins at me, says, “Good luck, kid,” then bounds off down the slope. He quickly disappears but I imagine he’ll be back to see which of us, if either, survives.

I turn the other way, going as silently as I can but hard and fast too, back to the cave, listening all the time. I crouch down on the bare rock above the cave and put my knife on the ground in front of me. I’m clearly visible to Kieran but he has to come to me. The forest is as still as ever. The sun is up now, shards of light angling down through the trees. One of the shards to my left blinks off and back on, as if an invisible body has passed through it, and the animal adrenaline races into my bloodstream and I want the animal to take over. A small cascade of rocks clatters and I turn to the sound. Another shard of light blinks off and on and the animal adrenaline is surging and I lick my lips and rise up from my haunches.