Vowed (13 page)

‘Be careful?’ Dante’s eyebrows jump up in surprise. ‘What? I’m going to chop you up and use you in some kind of stew and offer you to the red queen for
dinner?’

‘That’s disgusting.’

‘Tell him that.’

We grab hot drinks from a small cafe and wander around the streets, taking in the vibrant street life. The place feels metropolitan and a bit wild. I hear Arabic, English, Russian and Polish
being spoken. We are passing a tiny shop selling all kinds of kitsch toys when a small Asian lady bumps into Dante. He opens his mouth to apologize, but before he can say anything she launches a
tirade of words at him and storms off. I watch in shock as he turns back to me and shrugs, looking bemused.

‘No idea what that was about,’ he says. ‘Maybe one of my real parents pissed her off and she recognizes me.’

I shrug and try and catch sight of her among the crowd but she’s nowhere to be seen. ‘It will forever be a mystery,’ I intone in a voice that makes him laugh.

What I like about Brixton is that there is music everywhere, blasting from individual radios and speakers in the various shops. Outside a barber’s a group of four guys stand, harmonizing.
They are dressed like gangsters from the Forties and are crooning something I’ve never heard before. I throw a bunch of coins from my pocket into the waiting hat and one of the guys does a
deep bow as he sees the pound coins. We are about to head away when they change their tune from an upbeat toe-tapping song to something slower, a little bit melancholy. I stop in my tracks as if
I’ve walked into a wall.

‘Kit?’ Dante pauses at my side. ‘Are you okay?’

His words only reach me peripherally as I turn back and look at the four guys. One of them had started the new song, but the group are so attuned to each other that they all pick up the rhythm
of the music. The tune is familiar and my mind reels. This is the same lullaby that I heard Thorn sing in Blackhart Manor when he woke up the scrying mirror. Strains of it were in the song he sang
when he helped Istvan open the gateway between our world and the prison where the Elder Gods were trapped.

I turn back and watch them perform; the lullaby, bobbing and weaving through the chorus of something else, which they then segue into without a moment’s beat or hesitation.

‘Kit?’

Dante’s touch on my arm is tentative and it jerks me from my memories.

‘Sorry.’ I put on a smile but my face feels stiff and awkward. ‘I thought I recognized the song.’

‘I didn’t really pay attention.’ He’s watching me carefully, as if he’s worried I might do something strange. And it’s not just him – the performers are
watching us too, and I wonder if I look as wild eyed as I feel. To mask my minor mental crisis, I turn away and walk rapidly up the road, towards the flats.

‘That was weird. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you look so freaked out.’

‘The song, the lullaby.’ How do I explain it to him? A boy I cared about deeply sang that song to talk to a magic mirror and then later, the lullaby helped wake up a bunch of ancient
banished gods? ‘I’ve not actually heard anyone else sing it before now.’

‘Now I want to hear this thing, it sounds pretty special.’

‘No, don’t go back. Don’t talk to them.’

He considers me for a few seconds before nodding. ‘Okay, as you wish. Do you want to sit down?’

Do I look that bad? I take a deep breath and calm my nerves. I’m being stupid and overreacting to a bloody song. I run a hand through my hair, straighten my blouse and tug at my leather
jacket. I pull my shoulders back, lift my chin and close my eyes for a second, getting my head back into the game.

‘I’m good, thanks.’ I smile at Dante and this time it’s a real smile rather than something twisty and weird. ‘Sorry about that.’

‘Yeah, I still don’t believe you. But we can let it go. For now, as long as you tell me what this is about at some stage.’

I give a quick nod.

We walk a few more metres before I look at him. ‘Hey, why are you wearing your suit?’

‘I didn’t have time to change. I got to work, had a shower and changed into the spare I had in the office. I’ve not been home yet today.’

‘Very dedicated, I’m super impressed. I hope the kids don’t think you’re too dodgy to talk to.’ I laugh at his outraged expression as he tugs at his suit jacket.
‘What did your boss say about it all?’

‘He gave me a stern lecture. We’re understaffed at the moment and don’t have any senior agents to oversee this, except for him. He laid down the law: no fraternizing, no jaunts
into the Otherwhere, no doing anything illegal.’

‘Oh.’ A beat, then I ask, ‘Does
he
expect
me
to chop you up and sell you to the sluagh for dinner?’

‘I think it’s fair to say that both our sides’ concerned parties seem to have trust issues. With one another.’

‘But we’re okay?’

‘We are,’ he assures me.

Diane is sitting on the low wall near the block of flats, phone in hand. Today she’s dressed in a tiny skirt, layered leggings and a pair of genuinely ugly yellow boots.
She stands up once we near her and gives us a smile. Her hair is an untidy mess of little round nests and I envy her her style and sense of self.

‘Hi. I wasn’t sure you’d come.’

I frown at her in surprise. ‘We said we’d come.’

‘I know that now.’

She gives Dante a slow look and I’m not sure if she approves or disapproves of the suit he’s wearing.

‘You look like a cop,’ she tells him.

‘Lose the tie and carry your jacket,’ I suggest to him. ‘It’ll make you look less like a grown-up when we meet the kids.’

‘How old are you?’ Diane asks as she leads us towards the main building.

‘I’m seventeen, almost eighteen and he’s, I think . . . twenty?’

Dante nods. ‘You?’

‘Fifteen.’ She watches Dante again and there’s a crease between her brows. ‘How old were you when you got inked?’

‘Sixteen. I lied about my age. I looked older than I was but I got my dad’s signature forged to get it done.’

I’m both surprised and appalled at his admission but Diane seems really impressed. ‘Is it big?’

‘Upper arm, shoulder, part of my back and up into my neck.’ He’s untied his tie and opens his collar for her to see the black marks that look sharp enough to impale yourself
on. ‘It was fu— . . . hellishly sore.’

Diane seems taken by it but doesn’t say anything else until we’re in the building’s foyer.

‘The lifts aren’t working,’ she says, pointing at the vandalized doors with their ‘OUT OF ORDER’ signs, and leads us up several flights of stairs. The stairwell
smells like bleach and industrial cleaner and it’s clean, despite the graffiti on the walls. ‘But the superintendent is obsessed with making sure everything looks okay. He lets the kids
scrawl on the walls in here; it prevents them from doing it outside. As long as it’s nothing rude or drug related.’

We push through the doors and I’m gratified to see that Dante looks as out of breath as I am, while Diane seems fine. The corridor is long and narrow, with a door every few metres. Diane
leads us towards a door near the end of the passage and knocks.

‘I’ll see you guys when you’re finished, yeah? I’m on the fourth floor. 4B.’

With that she leaves us standing while she clatters back along the passage, furiously thumbing her phone’s keypad.

The door opens and a boy no older than Diane stands there. He’s skinny, all angles and sharp cheekbones with wide intelligent eyes.

Colin’s eyes flick between us, but come to rest on my face. ‘Are you Kit?’ he asks me, his voice very quiet, as if he’s asking me a secret thing.

‘Yes. This is Dante.’

Colin hesitates for a second but Dante’s smile is patient and he tones down the Spook vibe just enough for Colin to nod briefly before standing aside and letting us in.

The flat isn’t very big, but I’ve stayed in smaller. There’s an open-plan lounge and dining room. The furniture is old and worn but good quality. The TV isn’t new or a
flat screen but it’s in one piece and hooked up to an Xbox. There are books all over the place, stacked haphazardly on the floor, there being no space left on the crammed bookcase.
There’s a school blazer slung over one of the small dining table’s chairs and there are school books lying open on the surface.

I take it all in, noticing a few plants in the corners. The place feels warm and friendly. The walls hold photos of Colin and a younger boy, his brother Adam. There’s one with their mum.
She’s a plump woman of mixed race with startlingly green eyes and a wide sunny smile. I like her instantly and, looking at Colin, I can see the hard work she’s done in raising a decent
kid.

‘Can I get you guys anything to drink?’ He gestures awkwardly to the door that leads off the lounge. ‘We have some Coke or I can make tea.’

‘I’m good, thanks,’ I say and carefully move a set of books to the side so I can sit down on the couch.

Dante also declines something to drink and instead of sitting next to me, he pulls over one of the dining-room chairs.

‘Where’s your brother?’ I ask Colin, gesturing for him to sit too.

‘Adam’s sleeping. Or trying to. He’s not doing so great.’

‘Do you want to tell us what you saw?’

Dante takes out a small reporter’s notebook and I send him an angry look. Does the guy really think this kid’s going to tell us what we need to know if he sits there and writes
everything down like a cop? Dante gives me a complicated eyebrow jiggle before crossly stuffing the notebook back in his pocket when I refuse to stop staring him down.

‘What
I
saw?’ Colin rubs his face and I realize he must be exhausted. ‘I woke up because I heard noises in Adam’s room. When he was little he had really bad
dreams so I thought it was just that again. And because he’d woken me, I thought I’d go and check on him. I was just by my door when he screamed so loud.’ Colin’s hands
shake visibly at the memory. ‘I ran past my mum’s room and saw she was just waking up – I knew she was exhausted from working a double shift. I get to Adam’s room and I
don’t see him at all at first. It was dark in there. Darker than it should have been, you know?’

I nod, knowing what he means. Some supernatural creatures use the night and darkness to hide themselves. And some have the ability to become the night itself.

‘It happened so fast. I keep going over it in my head, to figure it out, and each time it gets harder to make sense of it.’

Alarm bells go off in my head. His fear will trigger the usual human capacity to try to make sense of the impossible. It means he’ll forget what really happened and I won’t get the
full story. I don’t like doing this, but I lean forward, towards Colin, and put my hand on his. The gold band on my finger briefly touches his skin before I drop my hand again. Colin blinks
at me and the panic I saw in his face lessens. The smile he gives me is almost one of relief but then he draws a deep breath and continues. ‘I saw some
thing
outside the window, just
hanging there. I saw it for maybe a second or two and then it was gone. But its face . . .’ His voice is low as it peters out. ‘That was when I saw Adam lying on the floor, covered in
blood. His face was messed up.’ He touches his forehead. ‘Cut here and his nose is broken and his arm looked burned. The ambulance came, we went to hospital and they took X-rays and
things, and kept him overnight. They talked to my mum a lot too. They were asking about other accidents and things. She was so angry by the time we left, she was shaking.’

‘They were making sure that Adam wasn’t being abused,’ Dante says. ‘They have to be careful.’

Colin nods, looking resigned. ‘I know. The police came and spoke to us and questioned Adam too. But Adam just told them he was playing in his sleep and ran into his wall. I don’t
think they believed him. He spoke to a social worker and everything. But they eventually just left.’

‘Where’s your mum now?’ Dante asks him.

‘At work. She’s a nurse. She rang the school and asked if I could stay with Adam, and because I’m only going to school for study periods right now, they let me. As long as I
keep up with my homework.’

‘Can we see Adam?’ I ask him, standing up. I rub my hands down my jeans, hating that I used the ring to clear this kid’s mind so that he didn’t freak out on us.

‘He’s sleeping,’ Colin warns. ‘Or he should be. This way.’

The passage is small and narrow. Four doors lead off it. Bathroom, remarkably tidy. A smaller bedroom, posters of the galaxy and various constellations dotting the wall, alongside pictures of a
few rock bands: Colin’s room, also neat, even by comparison to my own room. Then a larger room, with a double bed covered by a floral duvet and the faint scent of Chanel in the air. The next
room is Adam’s.

Adam, it turns out, isn’t sleeping. He’s sitting in the middle of his bed, with his back to us, staring at the window. He’s maybe eight, I judge from his build. He’s
dressed in a Spider-Man T-shirt and pyjama bottoms. His face is a mess of bruises, but even under all of that I can see he’s a sweet-looking kid with the same good features his brother and
mother share. His eyes are tired when they turn to look at me.

The force of his gaze takes me by surprise. It’s as if I am the only person in the room and he’s not noticed Colin or Dante. I kneel next to the bed.

‘Hi,’ I say. ‘I’m Kit. I’m a friend of Colin’s.’

Adam nods, silent, and turns those big eyes back to the window. ‘Do you think it’s still out there?’ he asks me, staring at the world outside his window.

‘Unfortunately, yes. But I’m here to stop it.’ I see Dante making a movement towards me, to stop me from telling the kid the truth, but I silence him with a sharp look.

‘How?’ There isn’t doubt in Adam’s voice and I know he is asking a legitimate question. Sometimes dealing with young kids is so easy.

‘Magic. I will track it down and either send it back to a place where it can’t come back from . . .’

‘Or?’ he prompts me when I hesitate.

‘I hunt it down and kill it.’

‘I think you’ll need to kill it,’ Adam tells me in his serious voice. ‘It will be back and then Arvind will be gone, like all the others.’