The Society of Thirteen (16 page)

Chapter 47

By the time Esther arrived on Highgate Hill, clouds of dust were billowing out from the collapsed cottage. All around, people were coming out of houses and shops to witness the spectacle but, in spite of the hysterical cries from Tom's aunt, no one believed that the cause of the disaster was the thirteen-year-old boy walking away.

Esther stood in front of him, blocking his way, searching his face for a sign of remorse.

‘She deserves no better,' said Tom, before she could say a word.

‘We both got left, but we found each other, didn't we?' replied Esther.

‘It's not the same.'

‘You can't swap lives with anyone else. The way it is for you is the way it is,' said Esther.

‘I know.'

‘Then no more of this. Please. That woman, she ain't your family any more. You and me, we're the only family we got.'

Behind them, the crowds were finally taking notice of this woman's hysterical cries and turning to look at Tom.

‘Come on, let's go,' said Tom.

A bus was rumbling past, heading down Highgate Hill. The orphans ran after it, leaping onto the back and hitching a ride as far as Archway, where they jumped off and continued on foot.

‘We can both do as we want from now on,' said Tom. ‘We can finally live how we always dreamed we would. Better even. We'll have it all.'

‘It scares me when you talk like that,' said Esther.

‘Did you see those people's faces? If folks are scared of you they'll give you most anything.'

‘I don't want anyone to be scared of me,' said Esther.

‘Well, I do,' replied Tom.

‘Is that why you destroyed the cottage?' asked Esther. ‘Because you want your aunt to fear you? You want her children to grow up having nightmares about you?'

A well-dressed nanny, pushing a pram, nervously glanced at them as she passed.

Tom noticed Esther's wart-free hand. ‘You've done the Mirror Spell?'

‘Yes. But it wasn't me. I saw another face, a woman I didn't recognise. I don't know what it meant. It scared me. All of this scares me. We have to get out before it's too late,' Esther told Tom. ‘We should leave this city, get away from Hardy and Ringmore. Leave the lot of them behind. That's why I came to find you.'

Tom stopped dead as a thought struck him. ‘How did you find me?'

‘You ain't exactly hard to find. You destroyed a house, Tom,' replied Esther.

‘I could have been anywhere in London.'

‘What's it matter?'

‘How did you find me, Esther?' he repeated.

Esther tried to look away but she knew she had to tell him the truth. If they had any chance of starting afresh she had to be honest. ‘I knew where your aunt lived because I overheard Mother Agnes one night. It was after you'd been misbehaving. She said to one of the other nuns that she had a good mind to drag you up Highgate Hill and deliver you back to your aunt's doorstep.'

‘You never told me,' Tom whispered.

‘Like I said, when people leave children at the orphanage they don't want to see them again. None of them,' said Esther.

‘You knew.' This time Tom screamed the words, drawing the attention of more people passing by.

‘I didn't know any more than that. Please, Tom. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to get hurt. Look what happened when you found her. I told you no good would come of it.'

‘Yeah, you told me just like you tell me everything. But things have changed. No one gets to tell me what to do any more. Not the nuns, not Ringmore, not Hardy, not you.'

‘We need to stick together.'

‘All this time, and you never told me,' said Tom. ‘I can't forgive you for that.'

The orphans stood glowering at each other, clutching their staffs. Esther understood that all was lost now. Tom's eyes revealed pure hatred. As far as he was concerned, she had betrayed him. She may as well be dead. Esther moved her staff in the dust and vanished into thin air.

Chapter 48

Sir Augustus Tyrrell spent precious little time in his inherited family home. The mansion was unnecessarily large for his bachelor needs and, for such a confirmed city dweller, the seemingly endless acres of Sussex countryside that surrounded it were terrifically dull. It was only its proximity to his nephew's boarding school that made him suggest it as a suitable location for the next meeting.

As the remaining Society members stood on the steps in front of the grand building, Clay pointed out that the approaching coach had a distinct lean, the cause of which was revealed when Sir Tyrrell's nephew stepped out.

‘Cyril, my boy,' said Sir Tyrrell. ‘How very kind of you to join us.'

‘Hello, Uncle Gus,' said the boy.

‘The boy's name is Cyril Tyrrell,' Mr G. Hayman muttered in Clay's ear, making him smirk.

‘I say, Uncle, what's all this about?' asked Cyril. ‘It's quite a welcoming party!'

‘Let's call it a scientific experiment,' replied Sir Tyrrell, patting his nephew's back affectionately.

‘I should hope it is important. I'm having to miss Sports for this.'

‘You like sports?' asked Clay, glancing at Mr G. Hayman.

‘I like boxing,' replied Cyril. ‘Say, I know you! You're Harry Clay. I went to see your show last Christmas.'

Clay bowed graciously.

‘Very amusing, I must say, but I saw through every one of your tricks,' said the boy. ‘It's all stooges and trapdoors, isn't it?'

‘What a sharp-minded boy you are,' said Clay, through gritted teeth.

‘Do you have a show on at the moment?'

‘Once we are done here I'm taking the train back to London for the first night of my new run.'

‘Perhaps I'll come to that one too.'

‘Please let me know if you can come along,' said Clay. ‘You could come up on stage and look for trapdoors. Maybe I could make you disappear.'

Lord Ringmore laughed and placed a hand on Clay's shoulder. ‘Come now,' he said. ‘Let's to our business.'

‘Does our business involve cake?' asked Cyril, walking up the stairs to the front door. ‘I'm famished.'

‘You can eat after we are done,' said Lord Ringmore, ‘but our experiment will be conducted outside.'

Lord Ringmore led them onto the lawn.

‘First the boy should choose his wand,' said Mr G. Hayman.

‘A wand?' said Cyril, with a snigger.

‘Any branch should do,' said Mr G. Hayman. ‘It needs to be something that grew from the earth itself but long and sturdy enough to form the Creation Spell.'

Cyril laughed. ‘I say, what's going on, Uncle Gus? Is this some kind of joke?'

‘Please,' said Sir Tyrrell. ‘All will become apparent. Just do as we say.'

‘How about this?' Clay picked up a branch from beside a sycamore tree and handed it to Cyril. ‘How does that feel?'

‘Very much like a branch,' replied the boy.

‘Good, then we are ready,' said Lord Ringmore.

‘Now what do I do?' asked Cyril.

Mr G. Hayman held up the book. ‘You must make this shape on the ground,' she said, pointing out the shape on the back of the book.

‘What do you mean, make the shape?'

‘With the branch, boy,' snapped Lord Ringmore. ‘Scratch out the shape on the ground.'

‘But it's frozen solid.'

‘That doesn't matter,' said Mr G. Hayman. ‘The shape will still draw the power of the Earthsoul.'

‘The what?' blurted Cyril.

‘Just do it, please,' snapped Lord Ringmore, anxiously.

‘All right, keep your hat on,' replied the boy.

Concentrating hard, he drew the shape of a circle within a triangle within a circle.

‘You must stand at the centre of the inner circle to make the Creation Spell work,' said Mr G. Hayman.

The others watched tensely as Cyril completed the shape and stepped inside. ‘Well. What now?'

‘How do you feel?' asked Sir Tyrrell.

‘Hungry,' replied Cyril.

‘How should he feel?' asked Lord Ringmore.

‘I don't know,' replied Mr G. Hayman.

‘I have to say, I'm beginning to think even Mr Clay's tricks are better than this one,' said Cyril.

‘I don't understand,' said Mr G. Hayman. ‘We performed the Creation Spell with an orphaned boy of thirteen. It should have worked.'

‘Did you say thirteen?' asked Cyril.

‘Yes, yes, thirteen. Your age,' replied Sir Tyrrell

‘I turned fourteen just last month, Uncle Gus,' said Cyril. ‘Cook gave me double helpings of puddings. I really rather wish I had more than just the one birthday per year if I get double helpings every time.'

‘Fourteen?' exploded Lord Ringmore.

‘Are you sure?' asked Sir Tyrrell.

‘I think the boy knows his own age.' Clay sighed.

‘Say, if we're done I'd really appreciate something along the lines of a cake before I head back to school,' said Cyril.

‘Yes, we are done here.' Lord Ringmore spun around and stormed back to the house.

Chapter 49

Esther had been walking for hours, unsure where to go or what to do, when she became aware of the black cat following her. She waited until no one was around before she stopped and spun around to face it.

‘What do you want? Who are you?' she demanded.

‘What makes you think I'm not just a cat?' replied the cat.

‘You're the same one that appeared in Bedford Square. You chased Mondriat away. Then you turned up in Rotherhithe. Now you're here.' Esther looked closely at the cat, thinking carefully. ‘You're her, aren't you? You're Olwyn.'

‘That was once a name I used, yes.'

‘Why are you following me?' asked Esther.

‘I want to help you. Just as Mondriat is Tom's familiar, I could be yours,' purred Olwyn. ‘I can show you how to do great things.'

‘I don't want to do great things.'

‘Yes, but the thing is, Esther, you are my responsibility.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘I'm going to tell you a story,' said the cat. ‘It's about a pair of young Conjurors, many centuries ago, very much in love and with the whole world at their feet. They were so happy that they wanted to be like that forever. They didn't want their happiness to end. They didn't want to succumb to death, so they set about looking for a solution. They went in search of the secrets of the Eternity Spell.'

‘You're talking about yourself,' said Esther.

‘Myself and Mondriat.'

‘The two of you were together?'

The cat bowed her head. ‘As we searched for the spell that would conquer death, Mondriat came to believe that the solution lay not in creation, but in destruction. He decided that it would take strength to achieve that which we sought and so he set about stealing others' Conjury.'

‘How can Conjury be stolen?'

‘Mirror theft,' said Olwyn. ‘Mondriat stole Conjury from mirror after mirror.'

‘Did it work?'

‘It certainly made him stronger and it ended countless Conjurors' lives but no, this is not the way to achieve immortality. Unwittingly, Mondriat helped the brutal witch-hunters bring about the end of Conjury.'

‘Why are you telling me this?'

‘Because you need to see that he cannot be trusted.'

‘But what has it to do with me?'

‘Esther, please, I'm trying to explain something. I want to tell you about how your mother died.'

At the mention of her mother, Esther felt a tug on her heart. She felt tears form in her eyes but she pushed them back inside. This was no time to cry. She needed to understand what Olwyn was saying. ‘These events. You said, they were hundreds of years ago.'

‘A hundred years is no more than a blink of an eye to the Earthsoul.'

‘Was my mother a Conjuress too?' asked Esther.

The cat shook her head. ‘She was an innocent peasant whose only mistake was to take pity on a Conjuress in fear of her life. Me, Esther. She took me in while the angry witch-hunting mobs pursued me. Unfortunately, and to my eternal regret, her association with me was enough to convince them that she was a witch. The trial was short, the punishment brutal and final.'

‘You mean, they killed her?'

‘I was unable to stop them and I knew that they would kill her child too if they had the chance, so I cast a spell and sent you somewhere I hoped you would be safe.'

‘Where?'

‘Into the folds of time, Esther. I sent you into the future so that you might live.'

Before she had cast the Creation Spell, Esther would have thought such a claim impossible, but now her eyes were open, she understood that time was an element like any other. It was as fluid as water, as gritty as sand. But still, the idea that she could really have been born so many years ago was extraordinary.

‘No,' she said. ‘I don't believe it.'

‘Belief is for Christians,' said the cat. ‘For us, only the unimaginable is impossible. I sent you away to protect you and I sent the book with you to protect our ways. Conjury was at an end so I wrote the book and sent it with you so that it may be reborn again one day.'

‘But I didn't have the book. Ringmore had it.'

‘Ringmore was sold the book by a man whose shop had burnt down. It was a shop to which the nuns frequently sold items that had been left with the orphans in their care. They sold your birthright for a couple of pennies and denied that which should have been yours. I've been trying to guide it back into your hands ever since.'

‘Why should I believe any of this?' said Esther. ‘What do you want from me?'

‘I want to be a friend to you.'

‘Leave me alone.' Esther angrily swung her staff at the cat. It jumped off the wall to avoid being hit. ‘I don't want to hear your stories,' she exclaimed.

‘They are the truth,' said Olwyn. ‘Ask the prioress at the orphanage, then look inside yourself and you'll know that I only want to help you.'