The Mortal Knife (17 page)

Nathanial had gone to bed early, trying to catch up on some sleep while things were quiet and Elise was playing the piano in the music room. All four Mortson offspring were gathered in the den with Auntie Jo, watching her latest find:
Zombie Lovechild's Revenge
. Adam waited impatiently for the others to drift off one by one. Auntie Jo drank steadily as the film reached a spectacularly gory conclusion. She was yawning by the time Luc read a text message and slipped out of the room. Adam felt a momentary twinge of alarm, then realised that Morta probably wouldn't have to resort to using a mobile if she wanted to contact Luc.

Finally it was just the two of them. Auntie Jo slumped back in the sofa. ‘I need to go to bed but I can't face walking up the stairs. Do you want to carry me?'

Adam grinned. ‘Maybe if Aron and Luc were here too  … '

‘Cheeky brat,' Auntie Jo grumbled, then ruined the effect by grinning back. She sloshed the last of her drink round in her glass. ‘So what's up? I get the feeling you're lurking with intent.'

Adam grimaced. He hadn't been as subtle as he'd thought. He wasn't sure of the best way to bring the conversation round. Better to stick to the present before he began delving into the past. ‘Why was Uncle Paddy here?'

Auntie Jo shrugged. ‘A social visit, I suppose. Things have been quiet in Ireland recently, at least for the fast-response Lumen. The “Troubles” have calmed down, so that helps. Plus that witch has been keeping her knife busy here. I think this is the first evening your father has been at home for a week.'

This wasn't really taking the conversation where Adam wanted it to go. ‘I thought he might be here to talk about Chloe. You know, her and Ciaron getting betrothed.'

Auntie Jo yawned like a cat. ‘He wouldn't talk about that in front of the family. He would have a quiet word with your father. They
were
in the study for a while before they came into the kitchen. These things are delicate matters, you know. There's a lot of pride at stake.'

Bingo
, Adam thought. This was his way in. He kept his voice as casual as possible. ‘Yeah, I guess Father is pretty conscious of that stuff. You know, with Mother marrying him instead of Darian.' He held his breath, praying she would take the bait.

Luckily the whisky was working its dark magic. Auntie Jo sighed and rested her head on the back of the sofa. ‘Yes, I think one betrothal scandal in the family was enough.'

Scandal? This could get interesting
, Adam thought.
‘So how did they meet? Father and Mother?'

Auntie Jo shrugged. ‘The same way anyone meets. At a ball.' She smiled and her face softened, suddenly becoming much younger. ‘I used to love a good ball. It got us out of the house. And that one was a humdinger! Ironically it was Darian's Marking ball in Paris. Your mother was there and I have to admit she looked amazing, but she was a proud little madam – worse then than she is now, if you can believe it. Everyone expected she would be betrothed to Darian. They both have High Lumen in the family so they seemed like a sure thing.'

She fell silent. Adam tried to prompt her to go on. ‘Well, maybe they were too close? You know, the families? Like maybe they were too closely related. All that genetic stuff.'

Auntie Jo gave another enormous yawn. ‘I doubt genetics had anything to do with it. The whole Luman world is related in degrees. After all, Mortson was a French name. We're related to Darian on
both
sides of the family if you go back far enough. Funnily enough, that's why we got excited when you were younger and we thought you might be a Seer too. There were a few Seers in Darian's line.'

Adam brushed away a guilty pang. It was better for everyone if they thought he had grown out of being a Seer and his little talent remained a secret. ‘So why didn't Mother and Darian get together then?'

Auntie Jo raised an eyebrow. ‘Because she fell for your father of course. And boy did she fall!' She sniggered suddenly and dropped her hand, making a whistling sound and letting her palm splat onto the sofa. ‘She was supposed to be working the room that night but she couldn't stop dancing with Nathanial. You saw them the other night – they've always danced well together. Your grandmother came and told her off but she ignored her. She was besotted.' She paused for a moment. ‘You know, Elise and I have never been close but I will say one thing for her. I have never for a moment doubted that she loves your father with everything that is in her. She loves you too, all of you. She isn't always good at showing it – but she would throw herself in a fire for any of you, without even blinking.'

There was a long silence after these words. For some reason Adam's throat had tightened and he had to swallow hard to make it go back to normal. ‘So they got married and lived happily ever after?'

Auntie Jo grimaced and took another swig from her glass. ‘Well, yes and no. There was a lot of opposition to the betrothal, especially from Darian's family. After all, he had practically been raised with Elise so it had seemed like a sure thing. I always felt sorry for him you know. I don't like the man but I do pity him. It was supposed to be his big night – and then an upstart from Britain came and ruined all his plans. And he had loved your mother all his life. He thought they belonged together.'

Adam stared at her, bewildered but trying not to show it. After all, the Mortsons were hardly
upstarts
. They had plenty of High Lumen in their line too and Nathanial was one of the youngest men ever to become High Luman. ‘But the wedding went ahead.'

‘After a fashion. It probably wasn't the wedding your mother had dreamed of.' Auntie Jo smiled but there was something else there – a sadness. ‘And now here we all are.'

There was no way Adam was letting her finish there. ‘What do you mean? Did something happen?'

Auntie Jo yawned again. ‘I'm not supposed to be telling you this Adam.'

Her eyes were closing and her words were slurring. Adam knew he was taking advantage of her drinking but he had to get to the bottom of this. Nathanial's life might depend on it.
All
their lives might depend on it. He stayed silent, willing her to go on.

At last Auntie Jo sighed. ‘I suppose you'll read about it in the history books eventually. The wedding was cancelled.'

‘Why?'

‘Because our family was tainted with scandal and the Luman world turned its back on us. More than one wedding was cancelled that year.' There was no mistaking the anger now in Auntie Jo's voice – or the bitterness.

Adam's head was full of questions after that statement but he knew he was almost out of time. ‘So how did Mother and Father end up married?'

‘They eloped. We never knew which of the Curators performed the Ceremony and they always refused to say. I've always suspected it was Heinrich. He had just joined the Concilium. He's always been a romantic at heart.'

Adam's jaw was hanging open. He snapped it shut. This was too bizarre! Heinrich, Chief Curator, performing an unauthorised betrothal and wedding? His
parents
running off like something out of
Shakespeare?
All these people pretending to be respectable and telling him he had to be a good boy and get betrothed and come of age and be a good Luman  …  and yet when they were younger they were all running about like
crazies
?! He shook his head, struggling to reconcile his picture of his parents as he knew them (the perfect Luman family) with the romantic figures from Auntie Jo's story.

‘A happy ending,' Auntie Jo said and gave a strange laugh. ‘Everyone loves a happy ending.' She staggered to her feet. ‘I need to go to bed now. Goodnight Adam.'

Adam opened his mouth to ask her more – but it was too late. She had gone. His head was whirling with scenes from the past. At least now he could understand why Darian hated Nathanial so much – although in some ways it would have made more sense to hate Elise. Maybe love wasn't rational. Maybe Darian couldn't bring himself to hate Elise for hurting him. Maybe he still believed even now that someday they could be together. If his plan to hunt down the rogue succeeded he might have his wish fulfilled.

Adam sighed and followed Auntie Jo upstairs. It was only in his room that he thought of all the questions he should have asked. What was the scandal that had tainted the family enough to end a betrothal? And from what Auntie Jo had said, more than one betrothal had ended over it. The question was: whose?

Adam tried to sleep but seeing his aunt's sadness, he had a horrible feeling he knew the answer to that question.

For the first night in an age not a single Mortson was disturbed from their slumber by a call-out. Ironically the only one with a restless night was Adam. His dreams had been haunted by a mishmash of images from the past and the present. He was at a ball, whirling Melissa round a dance floor, worrying that her school uniform made her look out of place. Darian stalked past with a blood-stained knife, hunting one of the dogs, while Auntie Jo sat on a throne in a white dress gorging herself on wedding cake.

It was a relief to wake up and throw himself into the shower. Dressing in his bedroom, Adam stared at his reflection. Somehow no matter what else was going on in his life his school uniform acted like an anchor, pinning him in place.
I still live in the real world. The Luman world is only one bit of it
, he thought almost fiercely, his blue eyes wild and bloodshot in the mirror.
I can keep living in the REAL world if I just try hard enough.

He crept downstairs, hoping for a peaceful slice of toast and a chance to look through his biology notes in preparation for the Buzzard's latest test – only to be intercepted on the stairs by a bedraggled-looking Auntie Jo. Adam stopped and stared. He hadn't expected to see Auntie Jo this side of dinner time after the whisky she had put away the night before. Obviously he wasn't the only one who'd had a restless night.

She held her hand up before he could say a thing. ‘You know why I'm waiting for you. I was indiscreet last night. I talked about things that shouldn't have been mentioned and I want you to forget about them. Certainly don't repeat a word of what I said.' She waited for him to nod in agreement and frowned. ‘Good. You were rather devious last night Adam. You knew I'd drunk a little more than I should have. I found myself wondering why you were so interested in betrothals and the past. Then I realised why you were suddenly so keen.'

Adam's heart accelerated slightly.
What does she know?
Had Auntie Jo managed to put two and two together? Had she somehow figured out that he had returned to the Realm of the Fates? Did she suspect Darian of some kind of mischief making? What was he going to do? Deny everything or come clean and blurt the whole truth out?

Auntie Jo smiled, then winced and clutched her head as though she were trying to hold it in place. ‘You needn't look so frightened. It's perfectly normal at your age to be thinking about these things.'

Now Adam was confused. ‘Yeah, I guess. Only  …  what things do you mean?'

Auntie Jo snorted. ‘It's fine if you're not ready to tell us who she is. Just rest assured, whatever might have happened in the past the Mortson name is as proud as ever. Whoever she is, she'll be lucky to have you. When you're ready just have a quick word with your father and he'll start arranging a meeting. Of course it's unusual for a younger brother to go down this road before an older, Marked brother – but not totally unheard of. You'll be fine. Forget everything I said last night.' She closed her eyes and rubbed her temples. ‘Now, if you'll excuse me I'm going to go back to bed and die quietly.'

Adam blinked and stared at her bedroom door as it swung closed, his brain trying to process what he'd just heard. Finally a slow grin spread across his face.
She thinks I've picked a wife!
He put a hand over his mouth, trying to hold back a snort of laughter as he scuttled downstairs to the kitchen. This was perfect. For a moment he'd thought she'd figured out the truth or at least part of it. Now he was off the hook.

He was still chuckling as he headed for the bus stop. He'd got away with his interrogation and now he had a cast-iron excuse for snooping into family history. Adam had a feeling it was going to be a good day.

It wasn't just a good day; it was an awesome week. For once everything seemed to be going Adam's way. As he wandered the corridors at school there was just a hint of a swagger in his step. It was like somebody somewhere was watching out for him.

The number of sudden deaths had plummeted to lower levels than ever before. Nathanial and Aron spent a day catching up on sleep, then spent the rest of the week bemused but happy. There was something about Nathanial's presence at home that cast an aura of calm across the whole household. Adam had never realised before how much they all relied on his father to soothe frayed tempers and keep the peace. Auntie Jo even cut back on the whisky for a few days, possibly because of the legendary hangover she'd had after Uncle Paddy's visit.

Nathanial's presence at home had another bonus effect: making it harder for Luc to slip off unobserved. Adam had worried about going to school and leaving his brother unguarded, even though for now he should be safe. If Morta was waiting for the rogue to strike she would be waiting a long time. Adam was determined not to do anything stupid for the time being which meant Luc was probably safe enough – but it helped having more people at home to look out for any unusual visitors. Tall, gorgeous, crazy, knife-wielding brunettes were at the top of the list  … 

As a bonus, Melissa had almost finished her coursework. Adam still hadn't seen it but Melissa bubbled with excitement every time she talked about it. Ms Havens loved it and thought it could be entered for competitions after it had been submitted for moderation. She'd even hinted that the mystery guest – some kind of artist – would love it too. The visit was scheduled for the art show at the end of the following week.

Adam was torn between bursting with pride and nervous terror. What if he was butt naked in the picture? What if it ended up winning something and getting plastered all over the news for his family to see? And even worse: what if it was a true likeness and ended up on the web for Spike's facial recognition software to find and identify? Thinking about this gave him a sweaty half-hour of panic until he reasoned that a painting didn't exactly count as evidence of being present at a crime scene. He took some deep, calming breaths and pushed such negative thoughts from his mind. Things were going his way. He might as well enjoy it while it lasted.

His friends were in a good mood too. On Friday they got a rare chance to hang out in class time. Their whole year group was dragged off timetable and called to the assembly hall for a careers guidance session. Their form teachers had cunningly failed to mention this, knowing that some people wouldn't have bothered getting out of bed that morning.

Adam spent a hurried ten minutes with Melissa in a dark corner of the art store before scuttling off to join his friends in the assembly hall, still wiping lipgloss off with the back of his hand. Since he'd started going out with Melissa his lips had never felt so supple – a combination of friction and her various pots of goop getting transferred onto him. He was still grinning when he joined Dan and Archie. ‘Where's Spike? Don't tell me he managed to get out of this?'

Dan was rooting through a plastic bag of yoghurt-coated nuts and dried fruit, picking out the raisins so he could flick them at people during dull moments. ‘He had a breaktime detention. Something about pointing out that Mr Rooney had added twelve and fifteen together and got thirty.'

Adam rolled his eyes. Rooney was a joke. He glanced round the hall, waiting to see Melissa sneak in late so he could grin at her, when to his dismay he saw a familiar figure. ‘Oh no. It's Mrs Gollum. She's taking us today.'

There was a collective groan and a chorus of muttered complaints, quickly picked up by other tables. Mrs Goldrum was sent out from the Careers Service into local schools. Unfortunately for her she resembled Gollum from the
Lord of the Rings
films, earning her the nickname Bride of Gollum – or Mrs Gollum for short. She was painfully thin with straggling hair, greyish skin and large sweat patches beneath her arms. Before and after any talk she could be found in her car in the car park chain-smoking hand-rolled cigarettes. She was pretty well-intentioned but she was possibly the most boring speaker ever to tread the polished floors of the various schools in her area.

Mrs Gollum had all the authority of a tadpole so it was no surprise when The Bulb stalked into the assembly hall, looking very much like a man who wanted to wrestle someone to the floor and gouge their eyes out. ‘Settle down!' he bellowed and quiet was miraculously restored, broken only by a few nervous titters. Having paraded through the school in high heels a few weeks earlier, The Bulb was a man with a mission: to restore terror into the hearts of everyone he came across. ‘Mrs Goldrum will be speaking to you for a few minutes and then you have to fill out the forms she's left on your tables. Not a sound!'

Adam heard as far as ‘Thank you, Mr Bulber' before tuning out every word Mrs Gollum was saying. Judging by the vacant expressions of everyone around him he wasn't alone in this. Only Archie was staring at her with an expression of profound concentration which baffled Adam until his friend picked up his pencil and started sketching on the back of his Career Assessment Test. A minute later he slid it across the table and Adam only just gulped back a snort of laughter at the sight of Mrs Gollum hunched on a rock with a fish in one hand and her careers manual in the other.

Eventually movement rippled through the hall Mexican-wave style. The talk was over and they were free to answer the questions on the sheets in front of them. If Adam had hoped these would be exciting he was going to be disappointed. He studied them and imagined writing honest answers:

Dan gave a heavy sigh. ‘You know school is so crap that I spend my whole life waiting to get out of here so I can get a job, some money, an amazing flat and a fast car. And then they give you a sheet like this and try to make you think the
rest
of your life is going to be this boring too.'

Archie yawned and added the words
My preciousssssss
to Mrs Gollum's careers manual. ‘I already know what I want to do. I want to draw cool stuff and get paid loads of money for it. Does that mean I can go back to art?'

Adam grinned, then realised Mrs Gollum was bearing down on them. ‘Just tick some boxes,' he hissed. Conscious of The Bulb's louring presence in the hall, Dan and Archie did some rapid scribbling.

Mrs Gollum appeared, wafting in a gentle cloud of violet perfume and stale cigarette smoke. ‘Now, boys, how are we getting on here?' She took their sheets and pored over them, frowning slightly. ‘Now, which of you is Dan? Ah, now Daniel, your answers are rather inconsistent. You see,
here
you have ticked that you are good with your hands but
here
you have ticked that you are clumsy. Which is it dear? What do you want to do when you leave school?'

‘Be a dentist,' Dan answered stolidly.

‘
Dark Lord & Son Dentistry. Your pain is our gain
,' Archie muttered, sniggering to himself. His expression changed to one of alarm as he realised Mrs Gollum was about to turn over the page and discover her less than flattering portrait. ‘No miss! Don't look at that! Look at my sheet! What should I do?'

Mrs Gollum was delighted to be asked for an opinion. She beamed at Archie and scrutinised his questionnaire. Her smile faded a little as she took in his answers. ‘Well, I have to say these are a rather  …  unusual set of skills.' She shuddered and handed back the sheet.

Archie shrugged. ‘I'll find my niche.'

Mrs Gollum was reading Adam's sheet now with an expression of profound relief. ‘Well, this one seems much better. You want to be a doctor. Excellent, Adam!' Her brow furrowed. ‘Although it does say here that you don't do well with blood.'

‘My own blood, that is. I'm fine with other people's,' Adam said without thinking. ‘Most of the time anyway.'

Mrs Gollum blinked. ‘Do you see a lot of people bleeding, Adam?' She hesitated, chewing on the end of her pen. ‘Do you
enjoy
seeing people bleed?' As Adam struggled to find some way of explaining what he meant she gave a very forced smile and said, ‘Not to worry, dear,' before scribbling something on her clipboard. She seemed to be underlining it a lot.

It was at that moment that Spike finally made an appearance. ‘Sorry I'm late.'

Mrs Gollum frowned. ‘Well you've missed out on the careers questionnaire now.'

Spike appeared unruffled. ‘Don't worry. I know what I'm going to do.'

‘Really? And what's that?'

‘I'm going to be Batman.'

A long silence followed this pronouncement. Mrs Gollum frowned. ‘I mean a proper job dear. Let's not be silly.'

There was a collective hiss of indrawn breaths around the table before everyone looked at Spike. Adam winced. Spike made a point of not being bothered by name-calling – but calling him stupid, silly or anything similar was like a red rag to a bull.

Sure enough, Spike's eyes had narrowed to slits. His mouth was a tight, twisted line in his face. Adam braced himself, feeling sorry for Mrs Gollum. She didn't
mean
to be an idiot, she just couldn't help it. Now Spike was going to give her a verbal flaying that would leave her in pieces and Spike in big trouble.

However, after a pregnant pause Spike surprised them all. He closed his eyes and breathed deeply in through his nose and out through his mouth. He repeated this several times while the rest of them watched him in bemusement, not excluding Mrs Gollum. At last his eyes snapped open and he gave the teacher a level gaze. ‘It's not silly miss. It's an excellent idea. Being Batman.'

Mrs Gollum seemed to be torn between irritation and fascination. Maybe she thought she had another dangerous lunatic on her hands. She stood with her pen poised over her clipboard, quivering with nervous tension. ‘But dear, he's not real, is he? It's not a real job. We'd all like to be a superhero sometimes but alas, most of us end up doing something rather more prosaic, don't we?' She gave a titter of laughter.