The Mortal Knife (25 page)

Adam stared at him. His father was waiting for questions. Questions about swooping or guiding or betrothals. Adam had a question all right – just not the one his father was expecting. He held up the photo and handed it to Nathanial. ‘Who's the man in the picture? Not you, the other one.'

His father blinked. Nathanial didn't betray any other hint of shock. ‘I suppose there's not much point asking where you got this, is there?' In the face of Adam's stubborn silence he sighed. ‘It's your uncle. My brother Lucian.'

Adam nodded slowly. ‘I thought it might be.' Morta's words had twisted and danced through his head for days, just as the Mortal Knife had danced between her fingertips. Words from the Summoning and words from their last, desperate confrontation.
I was told your family had some talent. Well, most of your family. Not every family member has shared your aspirations for greatness  …  I don't like to see the women go hungry because their men have failed them. First your uncle, now your father and brother.

They stood side by side looking at the photo, taking in Nathanial's swagger, Auntie Jo's smile and Lucian's haunted eyes. Adam studied his uncle's face. ‘His hair's a bit lighter but he looks like both of you. Both of you together.'

Nathanial gave a ghost smile. ‘He was. People said he was more like your Auntie Jo in personality, although gentler. They used to fight like cat and dog when we were children but she adored him.'

Adam hardly dared to breathe, afraid that whatever he said next would stop Nathanial from saying any more. He had the feeling of standing on the edge of something; that if he said the wrong thing Nathanial would walk away and Adam would never find out what he needed to know. ‘He's dead, isn't he?'

Nathanial nodded. ‘I'm afraid so.'

‘What happened to him?'

Nathanial closed his eyes for a moment, weighing something up. When he opened them they were cloudy. ‘He decided to step into his Light before his time.'

Adam blinked. ‘You mean he  …  killed himself.'

‘Yes.'

There was a long pause. Pieces of the past tumbled and fell through Adam's mind, locking together. The shame and the scandal, betrothals broken. A Luman who had refused to live the life he was destined to lead. A picture formed, explaining a thousand different moments. Nathanial's painful sense of duty, Elise's perfectionism, Auntie Jo's long unhappiness. ‘Why? Why did he do that?'

Nathanial sighed. ‘We don't know for sure Adam. I know that he never felt at ease in our world. He was the eldest. He was supposed to be the next High Luman but things didn't come naturally to him. Maybe he felt too much. He cared about people. He couldn't detach and get on with the job. And at a certain point  …  perhaps he decided he'd had enough.'

Adam stared at him, mute. Nathanial might just as well have been describing him. Maybe Nathanial realised this because he gripped Adam's shoulder fiercely. ‘You're not like him, Adam. Maybe in some ways. You have some of his qualities.' He smiled. ‘And you look like him too. But you're
not
him and that is
not
the path you will walk.'

Adam nodded. He knew that. He loved being alive. He couldn't imagine there
ever
being a time when he didn't want to be alive. The difference was, he had something beyond the Luman world that was
his
. He had school, his friends, his hopes and dreams. Maybe Melissa too. ‘That's why Auntie Jo made you let me go to school?'

Nathanial nodded. ‘She wanted you to have something to hold on to beyond our world. Just until you find your feet.'

‘So why didn't you tell us about him?' Adam's anger rose up out of nowhere. His words poured out in a scalding wave. ‘Why are you ashamed of him? It wasn't his fault! He must have been miserable! You must be ashamed of me too!'

‘
No
.' Nathanial's hand tightened, his fingers digging into Adam's shoulder hard enough to bruise. ‘I have
never
been ashamed of you. You are my son. Nothing will ever change that.' He paused, struggling to control himself. ‘We were all devastated. Lucian didn't tell anyone his plans. He wasn't guided. He took no keystone with him. People said he was selfish. He was supposed to be the next High Luman.

‘We're an old family but it nearly wasn't enough to save us. They could have stripped our Keystones. I was young and foolish but I worked and worked and finally I proved myself. It was Heinrich who made me High Luman. He knew what I'd done. And Elise gave me a chance. It took a long, long time but I brought us back.' Colour had flared in Nathanial's cheeks but he breathed in slowly. ‘And now we're fine.'

Adam shook his head. ‘Auntie Jo isn't fine. She's the opposite of fine. She's drinking herself to death.'

‘That won't happen.' Nathanial closed his eyes. ‘I won't let that happen. I promise you.'

Adam studied him for a long moment. He realised then that he believed him. His father had never let them down. ‘You should have told us. You should have told us we had an uncle.'

Nathanial didn't try to hide the pain in his face. ‘I loved my brother but we nearly lost everything. Your aunt Jo suffered the most. The past must stay in the past, for all our sakes – but most of all for Chloe's sake. Your aunt lost more than her brother. She lost her future too. I won't let that happen to my daughter.'

For just a second Adam saw the boy Nathanial had been. The second son. A happy, careless boy who had never wanted to be High Luman. The Luman world was unforgiving and Nathanial had worked hard to save them. Now all Adam could think about was how close he had come to dragging the family down into scandal again. ‘I'm sorry.'

‘For what?' Nathanial said.

‘For being crap, I suppose,' Adam said. His voice was small. ‘I'm sorry I'm no good at being a Luman. I do try. I just hate it. But I'll get better. Like you had to.'

‘Some day you'll be a great Luman,' Nathanial said. His voice was quiet. ‘You care about people Adam. That's why you find the job hard. But some day you'll realise this is just a different way of caring. It's the last way of showing care to each and every soul.'

Adam nodded. His throat was tight. He had his own way of showing care to souls – by helping them stay here as long as they could. He was going to keep helping them too because something stubborn in him wouldn't let him stop. He would be a doctor and he would have the life he wanted. But that didn't mean he couldn't show care to the ones he couldn't save too.

As if testing him, his death sense flared. He turned to his father. Nathanial closed his eyes for a second and sighed, like a man with the weight of the world on his shoulders. ‘I believe it might be a hit and run. Would you like to come on the job with me?'

Adam swallowed down the sick, unhappy feeling that rose up. ‘Yeah, OK.'

Nathanial reached into his pocket and produced a handkerchief. ‘You might want to give your face a wipe before we go. No point alarming anyone.'

Adam shook his head and pulled a packet of tissues out of his pocket. ‘Thanks but I'm OK.' And he realised suddenly that he
was
OK. He wasn't his uncle. He could do this. He could do this and still be himself; still be the other Adam.

Nathanial smiled. He put his hand on Adam's shoulder, and together father and son stepped into the twilight of the Hinterland.

Thanks as ever to my agent Gillie Russell and my editors Emily Thomas and Georgia Murray. Thanks also to EVERYONE at Team Hot Key, especially Jet and Jan for another brilliant cover and Meg, Livs and Sarah for looking after me in London and Dublin.

I am grateful to the pupils, staff and governors of Sperrin Integrated College, Magherafelt for their continued support with the books. Thanks also to everyone who cheered me on or made me laugh while I was writing: Rosie McClelland; the endlessly patient, talented and hilarious Flowerfield Writers; the Rosemary Drama Group, Belfast for the fairies and the funnies; and as ever the mighty PWA – Julie Agnew, Mandy Taggart – and most of all Bernie McGill for endless encouragement, cool-headed Beanie handling and emergency bun delivery.

Special thanks to my family and friends, especially my parents Derek and Patricia McCune and my parents-in-law Michael and Gretta Murphy. Your cheerleading means a lot.

Most of all, love and thanks to my husband Colm Murphy and our daughter Ellen. You are the people who make it all worthwhile.

D.J. McCune was born in Belfast and grew up in a seaside town just north of the city. As a child she liked making up stories and even wrote some down, including a thriller about a stolen wallaby.

D.J. McCune read Theology at Trinity College, Cambrid
ge but mostly just read lots of books. She lives in Northern Ireland with her husband and daughter – and two cats with seven legs between them.

THE MORTAL KNIFE is the second book in the DEATH & CO. series.

If you'd like to know more you can find her at:

www.facebook.com/djmccuneauthor

http://debbiemccune.tumblr.com

Twitter @debbiemccune

First published in Great Britain in 2014 by Hot Key Books

Northburgh House, 10 Northburgh Street, London EC1V 0AT

Copyright © D.J. McCune 2014

The moral rights of the author have been asserted.

All rights reserved.

No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publisher.

All characters in this publication are fictitious and any resemblance to real persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.

A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

ISBN: 978-1-4714-0232-6

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