“Not only a thief but a liar and a coward,” Mercury says. “You took a ring, that ring. So I’ll take the finger you’re wearing it on.”
Mercury whips her arm out toward Oscar and, even from several meters away, I feel the bitterness of the wind again and turn my back on it as it grows colder still, lashing round Oscar’s body. At first he pleads for her to stop. But then he goes quiet.
The wind has stopped. It’s silent. I turn.
Oscar is still curled up in a ball, not moving at all. I can’t see his face. His back is covered in frost, his hair frozen in icicles. The skin of one hand is white, but the other hand, his right hand, is stretched out, the fingers curled and blackened.
Mercury is coming my way. She looks pleased—or the most pleased I’ve ever seen her. She walks past me, out of the courtyard, and down the alley, and as she goes she waves her hand and a warm breeze blows my way, as if to say “Well done.”
She’s just almost frozen a man to death and she isn’t bothered by it at all.
Rose goes to Oscar, picks his arm up by the sleeve, peers at his hand and then lets it drop to the ground with the sound of a frozen pork chop hitting a stone floor.
“He’s not dead, just frostbitten. He’ll definitely lose a few fingers, maybe the whole hand.”
Oscar stirs, raising his head to look at us. His face is pale, his eyes barely focusing.
“I’ll call an ambulance,” I say.
“No, Mercury won’t like that,” Rose replies. “He’ll soon thaw out enough to crawl away on his own.”
• • •
Rose comes back with me to the apartment. We don’t talk on the way. I’m not sure how I feel about Oscar. He was a fool to try to trick Mercury, but he may lose his hand and, though I’m sure Mercury would have found a way to get to him without me, I did have a part in it. I feel sick that I’ve left him there. I hate this.
Inside the apartment, I drop onto the sofa. Rose watches me for a while. I can almost hear her thinking. Eventually she says, “You belong with us, Gabriel. You’re a Black Witch.”
“Am I?”
“Mercury will help you get back to being in the body of one, but I think at heart you are one still.”
I’m not sure if I’m pleased about that at the moment.
Rose continues. “You don’t owe any loyalty to the Half Bloods. The others will agree that Oscar got what he deserved.”
“I’ve lied to Mathieu. Tricked him. He won’t be pleased,” I remind her.
“He’ll understand. He knows Oscar brought it on himself. He’ll probably be glad he’s been taught a lesson. And Mercury was quite restrained. Oscar is still alive. Mathieu won’t retaliate against you.” She now moves to sit on my knee and whispers, “You’re safe with us. Mercury looks after those who work for her.”
I smile, genuinely amused at the thought of being safe with Rose and Mercury. It’s like living with a crocodile and a tiger.
Rose kisses my cheek and asks, “So, what else did you find out? What’s Mathieu up to? What’s going on in the Half Blood world?”
“Nothing much. The usual rumors. Bad things happening in Britain.”
“What sort of bad things?”
“Do you never rest, Rose?”
“No. Tell me about the bad things.”
“There’s a new Council Leader called Soul O’Brien. He’s supposedly recruiting Hunters in France.”
“And did you hear anything about an escaped prisoner?”
“Ah, so really you’re interested in the infamous Nathan. He was mentioned. If you believe he exists, then you may believe he’s desperate for help with his Giving. Just the sort of thing I imagine Mercury would like to help with?”
Rose smiles but says nothing.
• • •
Rose has gone. I can’t sleep. I didn’t like Oscar, and he clearly didn’t like me, but that doesn’t mean I feel good about what’s happened to him and my part in it. I don’t feel good about lying to Mathieu. And it sounds like that’s just the beginning of my work for Mercury. And I have no guarantee that she’ll ever help me, that she even can help me. And then there’s Nesbitt as well and I’ve no idea why he’s after me, but I can’t see it being about anything good.
I wish Michèle were here to talk to. I’m sure she’d tell me to stop working for Mercury, that getting Mercury’s help isn’t worth the risks and that happiness is more important than having my Gift. Michèle would want me to be happy. The trouble is I’m not sure I can be happy as a fain.
But there’s one thing I’m certain of: I’m not happy now.
Jon
Spotted Gabriel. Smiley face.
He was soloing again. Worried face.
I got the binoculars out. Drooly face. He did it beautifully, animal-like, like those old films of Edlinger.
He’s been away for a week, but now he’s back. And I go and say, “Hi,” and we climb together and he’s a freaking freak; he’s so fast. But he’s patient, too, and fun. Taking it seriously but not showing off or being competitive or being remotely anything but perfect. Except his hands are a mess. He says he didn’t climb when he was in the States and his fingers have gone soft. He wore through two of his fingertips and so I did my Florence Nightingale bit. I’m great with tape. Of course, taping his fingers meant I got to touch his hands! Tongue-hanging-out face.
And now he’s coming for a coffee with me. Smiley face.
• • •
I get the coffees and Gabriel gets a table. There’s a massive queue. I order the killer carbs that he wants but purposely leave them on the counter. I need a way of getting him to the party tonight. I know I could just ask him but . . . terrified face. The Scream face.
Back at the table, he’s reading On the Road.
I tell him, “Everyone says Kerouac is cool, but I think he might be an idiot.”
“You’ve read it?”
“God no. I saw a program about him.”
Gabriel laughs, then his smile fades as he notices there are only two black coffees on the table.
“I think we’re missing my pastries and my cream.”
“They’ve run out. You should be grateful. No fat, no dairy at this table.”
“Am I allowed sugar?”
“Your funeral.”
He reaches for the sugar and rips open one bag after another, tipping them all in. Five.
I find that words are coming out of my mouth: “There’s a party tonight at the barn.”
He looks at me.
“You want to come? Go, I mean? I mean, we’re all going. Me, Marc, and Rob. Should be good.” FFS!!!
“Will there be food?”
I laugh. God, I’m nervous. “Well, I was going to bribe you with pastries.” I retrieve the plate with the pain au chocolat and the apple pie, take some deep breaths, and smile as I walk back over to Gabriel.
Gabriel
Jon’s got a great smile. He’s not at all English-looking, more Southern California: short blond dreadlocks, brown eyes, tanned skin. Long limbs. Very wiry. He leans over the table as he puts the plate of food down. He hovers close, as if he wants to touch me, but he doesn’t, and then he moves back. He’s so nervous, but that’s cute. I like him, like being with him. I relax with him. OK, he’s not a witch; there’s nothing magical about him, but that means he doesn’t freeze people’s hands off. He makes me smile instead. He’s witty and fun to be with. And he likes to read, which is not that common, though he mainly reads nonfiction books about climbing and mountaineering. He’s serious about climbing but not too serious, not a bore. He’s not loud, not stupid. As fains go, he’s perfect.
I say, “You don’t need to bribe me.”
Jon cracks a huge grin and says, “Yeah, you’re coming?” He really is adorable.
Jon tells me about the climbs he and his friends have done at C
éüse and their plans for the future. They’re in France all summer and then going to the States: Oregon, Nevada, and California. Jon’s hinting already that I could go with them, that four is a better number for climbing, that there were supposed to be four of them, but someone dropped out at the last minute. And I find I’m saying, “I’d like to go to that part of the States. I’ve never been there.”
I know Jon would be good to spend time with. He makes me feel good.
Jon
It’s morning. I’m not hungover; I hardly drank. Gabriel had one drink, and so did I, and we talked and then moved outside and talked more and messed around climbing up the stone wall of the barn. Gabriel did it fast and elegantly and I copied him and eventually made it to the roof and we sat up there and talked again. And then I leaned over and kissed him and he kissed me back. We stayed there all night, talking and kissing. It was the most incredible night. Chilly, but I had Gabriel to keep me warm. And then this morning we watched the most beautiful sunrise and then went for coffee and the woman at the cafe opened early just for us. It was all perfect.
Rob comes over, Marc trailing behind. I look at my watch. It’s nearly midday. Marc looks like shit: red-eyed and stubbly. He sits, groans, rests his head on his arms.
“Just seen Gabriel getting on the bus,” Rob says.
I smile. “He’s got to go back to Geneva to sort a few things out. Then he’s coming back.”
“Here?”
“Of course here. And he’ll be able to stay longer . . . all summer. And he’s going to come to the States with us. I mean, if it’s OK with you guys.”
Rob touches his heart and starts to sing, “Love is in the air—”
Marc groans and kicks him.
Gabriel
Rose is at the apartment when I get back. I tell her, “I’m just here to get my things. Then I’m leaving.”
She stares at me, taking it in, and then she says, “No, Gabriel. Do you really think Mercury will let you go?”
“Is that a threat?”
“A warning. She’ll be offended. And when she’s offended she tends to react badly.”
“I’m sure I’m too insignificant for her to get really upset over.” I shrug. “She’s had some work out of me anyway.”
“And you’ve had a roof over your head, when you’ve chosen to take advantage of it.” She looks down at my rucksack and smiles. “You’ve been hiking again?”
“I need to get away, Rose. I’m serious.”
“I can assure you, so is Mercury. She wants to see you. Now.”
I know Rose has her instructions. If necessary, she’ll use her Gift on me and take me to Mercury like she took Oscar. I don’t have a choice.
So we go.
Mercury is waiting for us at the cottage. She greets us and invites me to go inside. As I head to the door, I see Rose muttering in her ear. It’s a few minutes before they join me. Rose sits in the corner and watches.
Mercury says, “I appreciate that you have had a difficult time in the last months and years, Gabriel. I’m no stranger to loss. My own sister was killed and I still feel that pain, but we must go on with life. You are a fine Black Witch, Gabriel. You’ve done your work for me well. Oscar has been dealt with. Mathieu has sent word that his treatment was fair. Your part in that is not dishonorable.”
Words, words, words.
“And now I have another small task for you. Small but very important.”
And I realize as she says this that she seems more excited than I’ve seen her before. She says, “Nathan is coming to Geneva. He also wants my help.”
“Nathan, the half Black Witch, half White Witch? I was never sure he really existed.”
“Well, he does and he’s on his way here. I want you to go to meet him.”
I just want to leave.
“Do I sense a reluctance?” she asks.
I take a breath and glance at Rose, who gives her head the smallest of shakes. “No, of course not,” I tell Mercury.
“I’m led to believe that you’ll recognize him straightaway.”
“How?”
A chill breeze slaps my face, which is a good reminder that Mercury could freeze me to death on a whim. She doesn’t, though. She just says, “He looks like his father, Marcus, I’m told.”
“I’ve never met him either.”
“Slim, black hair, olive skin, black eyes. Marcus can recognize a witch from their eyes. Nathan may have the same ability. You should wear sunglasses—he might not trust a fain.”
“Will he trust anyone?”
“Your job is to make him trust you. And I think you’ll be able to do that, Gabriel. Befriend him like you did Mathieu.” Mercury smiles, if you can call the baring of teeth, lips pulled back tight, a smile. “Find out what you can about him but also check for Hunters following him.”
This is beginning to sound dangerous but, I admit, exciting too.
“What does your intuition tell you?” I ask. “Did he really escape from the Council? Or is it all part of a trap?”
“To escape would be impressive, almost impossible, but then he is the son of Marcus, and Marcus is a devious and powerful witch. However, so is Soul. Soul wants to kill Marcus almost as much as I do, and I’m sure he’s tried to use Nathan to get Marcus. The question is: is this one of those attempts?”
“And if it is?”
“Then we’ll have some fun feeding Nathan to the sewer rats.”
So I’ll be responsible for more suffering. No, thanks. I’m leaving as soon as I’ve picked him up.
I ask, “And if he’s genuine?”
“He’ll be my welcome guest. A special guest indeed. He can come here to the cottage. I’d be delighted to give him sanctuary.”
He’ll be a prisoner again.
Mercury comes over to me and strokes her fingernails down my cheek. “And when you’ve helped me with this task, Gabriel, I think it will be time to help you. The Black Witch, the real you, is inside this body still. I sense his presence. We’ll draw him back out.” She steps back. “Do well with this task and I’m sure I’ll be in a generous and helpful mood.”
I don’t care. It’s too late for that. I’m leaving.
“So when do I meet Nathan?”
“He’ll be at the rendezvous point at Geneva Airport tomorrow, eleven a.m.”
And so here I am having a coffee in the airport cafe. I arrived early: three hours ago. I’ve checked all around the terminal, railway station, the car park. Not a Hunter or a witch or a Half Blood in sight.
Nathan’s flight has just landed so now I’m about to meet the mythical boy. And I admit I want to see him. I’m going to leave this world behind, but I want to see the son of Marcus before I do. I’ll deliver him to the apartment, get all my stuff, and leave, start a new life. I’ll be a fain forever, but so are most people. I can still have a great life. Jon is good for me. He makes me smile. And I’ll be free of torturing, cheating, lying, and murder.
I’ve not been paying attention and a large family group has taken over two tables near me, standing and talking, taking time to organize themselves and their suitcases. When they finally sit down, Mercury’s words seem to sound in my head: You’ll recognize him straightaway. I thought it was ridiculous, but it’s not.
He’s standing still. He’s got a baseball cap on. Mirrored sunglasses. Scarf, army jacket, fingerless gloves, jeans, boots. He’s got hardly an inch of skin exposed, but what I can see is olive. And, for some reason, I can’t help but smile.
What is it about him?
He’s got a tatty, grubby backpack. He’s very skinny. And there’s something about him . . . the witch thing, only more so. He oozes the thing that is Black Witch.
I realize I’m just staring at him. I need to get serious about this. He could be part of a trap. I look around again for Hunters, for White Witches, for anything odd.
I get up and walk around the arrivals hall again, taking it slow, assessing each person or group, watching those who are standing around, but each person, each group eventually moves off. And, every time I glance back at Nathan, he’s still there, unmoving.
I go back to have another coffee and think some more, but really I’m not thinking at all. I can feel adrenaline flooding my body. I’m excited. I want to do something, but I’m not sure what. My mind is racing, but I don’t know what I’m thinking. Nathan is still standing there.
What is it about him?
He’s not what I expected. I expected him to be confident and arrogant. I thought he’d have an I’m the son of Marcus thing about him, maybe be more like Oscar. But he’s nothing like that. He looks like he’s trying not to be noticed, to blend in, though it’s pretty difficult in that gear.
And then suddenly he flicks his head round, and I realize he’s totally on edge. Totally. And I know I want to help him.
I wave to him and he stares at me, assessing. Then he comes toward me. He moves slowly and cautiously, not looking around, keeping his eyes on me, picking his way through the tables. And I realize I’m smiling.
I’m supposed to be a Black Witch and I’m smiling like a little kid.
I take a breath, sip my coffee, and pull myself together.
Jon
Gabriel came back this morning and I noticed straightaway that he didn’t have any stuff with him. I told myself that he’d stashed it somewhere and I said, “It’s great to see you.”
And he said, “Hi,” and then something about how he had to come back to tell me that he was glad he’d met me and all that sort of stuff. I don’t really remember it, to be honest. What I do remember is that he went quiet and then he said, “Part of me would love to go with you, but I can’t.”
“Can’t? But we talked it through the other night. All the things we’d do. I mean, we don’t have to live in each other’s—”