The Mortal Knife (11 page)

There was a snort of derision followed by a reluctant chuckle. ‘I won't hold my breath here.'

Adam tried not to feel offended. At least she wasn't crying. It was time to play his trump card. ‘I have some toast for you.' There was still silence but it was a watchful, listening sort of silence. ‘It's really thick and there's loads of butter. It's sort of swimming about on the plate  … '

‘Oh all right,' Auntie Jo grumbled, flinging open the door. ‘I'm taking the bait. Come in.' She shuffled away from the door, still in her slippers and dressing gown. After a moment's hesitation Adam followed her inside.

For someone so lazy about her personal appearance Auntie Jo's domain was scrupulously tidy. It was more of a suite than a room; there was a living area and a bathroom as well as an old four-poster bed. The room was pale and elegant and feminine. Adam felt lumbering and out of place.

The only untidy thing was the bed. The covers were messed up and the bedside table was littered with crumpled tissues and empty glasses. An almost empty whisky bottle stood amidst the debris and as Auntie Jo stumbled towards the end of the bed Adam realised with a start that she was properly drunk. For a woman who swigged from a hip flask on a daily basis she must have been drinking most of the day.

He watched her slump back on the pillows and raise her glass in a silent toast. Her eyes were red and her face was blotchy. She was clutching something Adam couldn't see in her right hand. ‘Are you OK?'

Even plastered Auntie Jo was capable of sarcasm. ‘Yes, I'm fine. Great in fact. Can't you tell?' She emptied her glass and put it down a little too hard. Her right hand clenched and loosened reflexively. Adam could see flashes of something metallic glittering between her fingers.

He sat down cautiously on the end of the bed and offered the plate of toast. Auntie Jo took it without thanks and put it down beside her untouched, reaching instead for her whisky glass once again. ‘How was the madhouse today then?'

Adam tried to smile. ‘Do you mean this place or school?' In the face of her stony expression he sighed. ‘Yeah. It was OK. Good actually.'

‘I am
glad
it was good. I'm so happy that you can get away from here.' Her words were slurred but she rambled on. ‘No one should be a prisoner in their own life. No one should ever feel like there's no other way out.'

Adam gaped at her, alarmed. He'd never seen her like this before. He had no idea what she was talking about but it seemed polite to say something. ‘No, that would be terrible.'

‘I won't let them do that to
you
.' She spoke with a hissed fervour that took Adam by surprise. ‘I should have done more. I was so young and stupid!'

He stared in confusion for a moment. ‘You don't have to do anything. I'm fine.'

Her shoulders heaved and she whispered. ‘I didn't know. I didn't know he would do it.' It was only then that Adam realised she wasn't talking about him. Her hand opened and something silver slipped onto the bed cover beside her. Finally Adam saw what it was. The locket. The one she always wore round her neck, the one with a photo inside of a man Adam didn't know. He'd only seen inside it a few times when he was younger. Was that who the tears were for?

She was going to cry again and Adam couldn't bear it – because whatever Auntie Jo was, she was not a crier. She was his hero, he realised with a start. She'd spent his whole life making him feel better and fighting like a tiger for him to have the life he wanted. How could he make her stop being sad? ‘Have some toast,' he said in desperation. ‘Please don't cry!'

Maybe his fear cut through her private misery. Auntie Jo blinked at him as though she'd just noticed he was there and suddenly her eyes seemed to come into focus. She set down her whisky glass and cleared her throat. ‘I'm fine, Adam. I'm just stupid today. Don't worry. Everything will be fine.' She picked up a slice of toast and took a small bite. ‘See?'

Adam wasn't convinced but he could see she was making an effort. The whole situation was totally mystifying and he was frantically doggy-paddling way out of his depth. ‘Yeah. Toast is good.' He hesitated. ‘So  …  do you think you'll go and see Madame Gazor?'

Auntie Jo groaned. ‘Bloody dresses. What have I done to deserve this?' She staggered to her feet and lurched through the door into her bathroom.

It was a few seconds before Adam realised that she had left the locket lying on the bedcover. He had never in his whole life seen Auntie Jo take it off and it wasn't an opportunity he was going to waste. A quick glance at the door showed he had at least a few seconds.

He had sometimes played with the locket when he was little, sitting on Auntie Jo's knee and opening and closing it while it dangled round her neck. It had seemed so big then; now it nestled in his palm not much larger than a coin. Holding it brought back the memory of twisting the tiny catch on the side – and when he did the locket folded open immediately.

The inside was just as he remembered. Adam felt a guilty rush of recognition. On one side was a flat piece of charcoal stone – Auntie Jo's keystone, just like his own but mounted inside the locket instead of hanging on a chain. He ignored it and looked instead at the picture facing it.

There was the man he remembered. He had dark hair and his skin was starkly pale in contrast. He was smiling a little but his eyes were sad. Adam frowned. Who was the man? He knew that at one time Auntie Jo had been betrothed, just like any other Luman girl – but no wedding had ever taken place. Why? Was this the man she had been supposed to marry? And if so what had happened to him?

There was a horrible retching sound from the bathroom and Adam cringed. At the same time there was a knock on the bedroom door. Adam just had time to snap the locket closed and fling it back on the bed as Nathanial stepped inside, still wearing his coat. He paused, taking in the sight of his son on the end of the bed and the sound of his sister being violently sick.

Adam stood and gestured towards the bathroom. ‘Auntie Jo's not well.'

Nathanial frowned. ‘No, apparently not.' As usual he hid his thoughts behind a benign expression but Adam felt a pang of shock. His father was so pale and drained he looked half dead. His hair was rumpled and there were grey shadows beneath his eyes.

Auntie Jo groaned and vomited again. Nathanial winced. ‘Thank you, Adam. You can go now.'

Adam hesitated, feeling bad about leaving. To make things worse his death sense flared – and seeing Nathanial's jaw tighten he knew what his father was thinking. ‘I can stay with her. If you need to go on a job.'

Nathanial shook his head and for a second Adam saw something black and furious bubbling beneath Nathanial's face, threatening to crack his composure. ‘The job will have to wait.'

Adam stared at him in shock. Since when had Nathanial
ever
left a soul waiting? Nathanial gave him a terse smile. ‘It's OK, son. They're not going anywhere. I won't be long. And come Saturday I'll have another pair of hands to help out.' He looked like a drowning man staring towards a lifeboat in the distance.

Adam nodded and escaped, half relieved and half guilty. He closed the door behind him and stood in the hall frowning.

Something was very, very wrong. He didn't know what it was. He just hoped that whatever it was Aron's coming of age was going to be enough to put it right.

On Saturday morning Adam was woken early by a pounding on his door. ‘Go away,' he groaned – which only served as an invitation to a bleary-eyed Chloe, who was still in her pyjamas. ‘Mother says you have to get up.'

Adam squinted towards the window. ‘But it's still dark!'

Chloe shrugged and yawned. ‘We have to make sure everything is ready.' She disappeared back into the hall – although not before calling, ‘Auntie Jo says she'll pour a jug of water over anyone who isn't downstairs in five minutes.'

Adam nestled back under his duvet. He had spent the whole evening before underground, lugging chairs from the storage chambers to the ballroom – and his back was aching. Aron and Luc had dragged heavy wooden tables backwards and forwards under Elise's critical eye until they were positioned to the millimetre in the vast underground feasting hall. Auntie Jo and Chloe had spread clean white linens on top and placed hundreds of candles on the tables and in the old iron sconces along the walls while Elise fussed with vases and cutlery. They had worked until well after midnight, letting Nathanial handle all the call-outs himself. He probably hadn't been to bed at all.

No one had said anything more about Auntie Jo's misery on Wednesday. She had been sitting in the den on Thursday, paler than usual but watching her films as though nothing had happened. Adam had felt a little awkward but she was so determinedly normal he had no choice but to go along with it. If he was honest it was a relief. He knew
this
Auntie Jo – the one reading his horoscope and cracking jokes. The other one was a stranger and Adam didn't know what to say to
her
.

Now, squinting at the clock made him groan again. It wasn't even six o'clock in the morning. Adam pondered the events of the day ahead with mixed feelings. The first guests would arrive just before lunch – the Concilium and a handful of close Lumen who would help organise the huge crowd arriving for the celebrations. Aron would go through the rituals and then the Crone would Mark him. Adam had mixed feelings about seeing the Marking. He knew it would hurt.

Still, once the bloody bit was over they would have the party to look forward to. Aron would emerge into the ballroom to a cheering throng to be showered with gifts from the men and hugs from prospective mothers-in-law. They would all sit down at the heavy tables and eat food prepared by dozens of Luman daughters, eager to show off their cooking skills to their future husbands – who might be sitting right there! And finally there would be toasts, music and dancing until well into the night. At least that bit would probably be a laugh.

There was no time to indulge in further daydreams. Adam heard a heavy foot tread on the stairs and hurled himself upright. He'd been on the receiving end of one of Auntie Jo's wake-up jugs before – and she never used the hot tap.

The morning sped by in a blur of final checks and activities. Once every inch of the cellar rooms had been inspected, an almost hysterical Elise sent them all upstairs to get dressed. She flitted between her room and Chloe's while Nathanial helped Aron get ready. Adam mooched down to the kitchen and found Auntie Jo standing by the toaster. She was wearing a very unforgiving dress in an eye-watering shade of purple. At least she had left off her kaftan in honour of the occasion.

She gave a snort of laughter as Adam walked in. ‘Well, it makes a change from your school uniform. Maybe we should take some photos and send them in for your friends to admire.'

Adam scowled and shifted self-consciously from foot to foot. He felt like a prat. The black tie bit was nothing unusual – but it was what he was wearing
over
his black jacket and trousers that made him really stand out. The ceremonial capes were normally stored safely away. They were made of heavy black cloth, hooded and trimmed with fur to indicate whether the wearer had come of age or not. Adam's was trimmed with black fur, showing that he was still a child in the eyes of the Luman world. Aron's would be trimmed in white fur, showing that he was able to guide souls safely into their Lights. Adam tried hard not to think about the many furry critters who had been sacrificed on the altar of Luman vanity. Elise had altered the capes so they were all the right size but Adam was still worried he was going to trip on the floor-length fabric and fall flat on his face at some crucial moment.

Elise burst into the kitchen with her blonde hair still in rollers. ‘Oh for Fates' sake, Josephine! Must you spend every second of every day eating toast? I was searching for you!'

Auntie Jo shrugged unperturbed. ‘Thought I'd have a bit of early lunch. We'll not be eating for hours.'

‘I need some of your whisky.' She scowled at Adam's widened eyes. ‘For Aron, not
pour moi
.'

Auntie Jo reached into her purple clutch bag and pulled out her hip flask. ‘I'm glad he's going to have a little nip. I thought he was going to do it old school.'

Elise seized the hip flask without thanks and swept out, leaving Adam puzzled. ‘I didn't think Aron liked whisky.'

Auntie Jo shrugged. ‘He doesn't but it will take the edge off.' Adam's confusion must have shown because she sighed. ‘Think about it. A complete stranger is about to turn up with a manual tattoo pen and etch the Mortson seal into his chest. There isn't much meat over his breastbone. Believe me, he'll be glad of a little anaesthetic beforehand.'

Adam shuddered. When she put it like that, maybe it wouldn't be such a bad thing after all if he never managed to come of age  … 

An hour later they were all ready. Adam stood in the hallway and looked at his family with a peculiar mixture of pride and embarrassment. His father and Luc were dressed almost identically to him. Aron's outfit was the same except for a strange white wrap-type shirt that exposed most of his chest, ready for the Marking. Auntie Jo had thrown a gauzy silver cape over her purple dress and Elise looked stunning in an elegant black dress with a lace cape, her blonde hair curled.

But the real surprise was Chloe. She was the last to arrive, walking carefully down the stairs in gold-heeled sandals to match her golden ballgown. Her hair was pinned up and woven through with gold threads and glittering crystals. Adam's jaw dropped as he looked at his younger sister. She looked ten years older and impossibly glamorous. He was momentarily glad none of his friends would ever meet her or he'd never hear the end of it.

She stopped beside Adam, chewing her lip. Nathanial kissed her cheek and said, ‘You look beautiful, Chloe.' He looked happy and sad at the same time.

For once Luc didn't say anything funny and even Auntie Jo was looking a little shiny-eyed. ‘Well, if that dress doesn't catch you a High Luman I don't know what will.'

Elise stepped over to her daughter and tapped beneath her chin. ‘Head up! And smile, my darling, smile.'

Aron was flushed and nervous. ‘Who's got the whisky?'

‘Not too much, Aron,' Nathanial said not unkindly. ‘Just a few more sips.'

Adam shuddered and found himself wishing the whole thing was over. As if on cue the front door knocker crashed, making everyone jump. Heinrich entered, smiling. He paused and took a moment to look at them each in turn. ‘My dearest Mortsons. How wonderful to be with you all today.' He embraced Nathanial, kissed Elise on both cheeks and shook Aron's hand firmly. ‘The Concilium waits outside. Shall we proceed?'

Aron cleared his throat. ‘Let's get it over with.'

***

A few minutes later Adam was sitting on a simple wooden chair in an underground room. His family and the Concilium had walked out into the garden and through the concealed cellar doors in the lawn behind one of the yew trees. Down a torch-lit flight of stairs a passage veered off in two directions. To the right were the vaults and crypts where Keystones and dead Mortsons rested respectively. To the left were the celebration chambers they would be using later.

And straight ahead through an ornate iron door was the Oath Chamber. It was a large, oval-shaped room with a black marble floor and panelled walls carved with scenes from Luman lore and history. At the far end a high stool and small table had been placed on a raised plinth. To one side was a heavy wooden throne, covered in black velvet cushions and drapes. Two chairs faced the throne on the other side of the stool.

The rest of the chairs were some distance away, arranged in arcs facing towards the business end of the chamber. Adam was seated between Luc and Auntie Jo, with Elise and Chloe sitting nearby. The Concilium were there too, sitting in silence – apart from Heinrich. He was at the other end of the room, helping Aron onto the high wooden stool, then sitting down beside Nathanial, who was smiling reassuringly at Aron.

The cloths on the throne moved and for a moment Adam almost yelped a warning – until he realised that what he'd mistaken for some kind of malevolent supernatural cushion was actually a tiny human swathed from head to foot in heavy black fabric. The figure turned towards them and bowed but the face was obscured by a thick panel of lace. Adam sucked in a breath. He was looking at the Crone.

She nodded at Nathanial and Heinrich but ignored poor Aron completely. She turned her attention to the table. Heinrich raised an eyebrow at Elise and said, ‘Shall we begin?'

Elise stood. Soft-footed and graceful, she walked the length of the chamber holding a silver dish. As she reached her eldest son she paused and simply looked at him for a long moment. Nathanial stood and joined her, taking the silver dish from her. Elise cleared her throat, raised her hands in the air and began to speak. ‘These are the hands which have fed you.' She took a piece of fruit from the dish and gently placed it in Aron's mouth. ‘Now they will feed you no more.'

Adam gave Auntie Jo an alarmed look. She opened one side of her mouth and whispered, ‘Don't worry, he isn't going anywhere. They used to marry them off straight after the ceremony and then their new brides would take over all the cooking. It saved having two parties. They just haven't bothered changing the ceremony words.'

Elise lifted a white cloth from the dish and held it to Aron's forehead. ‘These are the hands which have comforted you. Now they will comfort you no more.' There was a slight tremble in her voice but she continued, ‘I brought you here as my child. Today you will leave as a man.' She kissed Aron's cheek tenderly, then turned and slipped back to her seat, her eyes shining.

Nathanial held out his hand silently and Aron reached for the keystone round his neck, pulling the thin chain over his head. Nathanial took the keystone and clasped his son's hand in his. ‘I brought you here as my child. Today you will leave as a man.' He turned to the Crone and bowed his head, placing the keystone in her gloved hand. She took it without a word as Nathanial returned to his seat.

Adam swallowed hard. This was the bit he'd been dreading. He tried to tell himself that the gore would be good practice for being a doctor. The Crone turned to her table and placed the keystone in a stone mortar, then picked up her pestle and began to grind.

Adam hissed to Auntie Jo, ‘Is she grinding up his keystone?'

Auntie Jo shook her head almost imperceptibly. ‘Of course not. We'd be here for days. She's already been sent a chip from one of the family Keystones. This is just for show.'

Sure enough the Crone had already set the mortar down and was using a tiny gold spoon to lift a heaped spoonful of charcoal powder into a small vial. She added dark liquid from a gold jug and stirred the contents. Finally she lifted a long, thin tool from the table and stepped in front of Aron, his breastbone at her eye level.

They could tell the moment the tattoo pen touched Aron's skin. Adam flinched as he watched his brother grit his teeth, but Aron managed to sit absolutely still. Not only was a manual pen more painful than a modern electric pen but a Luman tattoo went deeper than a normal tattoo. It had to – after all, Aron would never need a keystone again. His keystone was literally becoming a part of him, being inked into his body. Being Marked would make him forever a Luman.

Being Marked also took a very long time. Adam watched the Crone's hand dart in and out with tiny, precise movements and winced. Aron's jaw was clenched and his lips were thin lines but somehow he wasn't making a sound. Adam pressed his finger against his sternum, amazed at how tender even a fingernail was, never mind the viciously sharp tattoo pen. Yet again he pondered if he could avoid getting Marked for the rest of his life. Or at least if he could become a doctor first he might be able to get his hands on some local anaesthetic  … 

He felt Luc's elbow in his ribs. ‘When I come of age I'm going to get
my
tat on the back of my neck.'

Adam winced again. ‘Why?'

Luc shrugged. ‘Chest tattoos are OK if you live somewhere sunny but seriously – how often will you get to show it off in London? On the neck – it's an all-year-round babe magnet.'

Adam snorted. The Mortson seal – a flaming torch in a black circle – wasn't exactly the typical dolphin or Celtic armband tattoo. ‘Not exactly keeping the Luman world a secret, is it?'

Luc smirked. ‘Chicks love a mystery.'

Elise turned to them with the ladylike smile of a Luman hostess – and the eyes of a psychotic killer. They shut up then to avoid being flayed alive once the guests had gone home. It reminded Adam of Melissa and her laser eyes. Fleetingly, he found himself wishing she was there. What would she make of it all? The hooded cloaks, the underground chamber, the candles, the savage ritual playing out in front of them? For him it wasn't exactly normal but it wasn't scary either. If he brought Melissa down here she'd probably punch him on the nose, call the police and tell the newspapers about her near-miss with a fiendish cult in their underground lair.

The thought depressed him. His friends would probably take it better. Spike would watch the proceedings unfolding and start plotting how to become Chief Curator. Archie would be too busy sketching the whole scene to give it much thought, while Dan would be torn between the delights of finding himself in a vaguely Tolkienesque world – and worrying what his mum the psychotherapist would make of it all.