We’ve left the Audi and walked the last couple of miles to the house. “They’ll find it. Missing a bit of petrol but no harm done,” says Nesbitt.
“Are you really bothered about that?” I ask.
“Well, some of these cars have trackers on them. Use ’em and lose ’em is my advice.”
At the gate we stand beneath the cameras, waiting. Nesbitt has pressed the buzzer and now speaks into the microphone.
“Hey! It’s me. This is Nathan. You know how I thought he was dead? Well, turns out”—Nesbitt shrugs—“he’s not.”
I glare at him.
“He’s a good kid really.” Nesbitt looks up at the camera and in a loud, slow stage whisper says, “He has the letters.”
There’s no reply, not even the buzz of an entry system.
The sun is fierce and the tarmac under our feet is like a furnace. The metal gate seems to throb with the heat but then it starts to move, silently sliding to the side, and we walk up the long, straight drive. I look back and the gate is already closing. On the ground along the inside of the wall and the bottom of the gate is a thick roll of razor wire. The house is as much a prison as it is a fortress. Ahead, half hidden in the tall pine trees, is a low building made of glass and stone.
A man comes out of the house and watches us approach. He’s dressed immaculately in a pale blue suit. The palest of blues, almost white. His trousers are wide and he’s wearing a waistcoat of pale blue too. As we get closer I see his shirt is white and his tie is pale pink, with a matching pink handkerchief in his jacket pocket. He turns his back on us as we get nearer and goes back inside. The man is tall, taller than me, and slender. His hair reminds me of Soul O’Brien’s, that white-blond, super-slick look, cut with precision to the nape of his neck. It only now occurs to me that I’ve assumed there’ll only be Van and Gabriel here but it seems there’s at least one other person.
“Who’s that? Who else is here?” I ask Nesbitt.
He glances at me and starts to dance around in front of me, flapping his arms, singing, “Ain’t nobody here but us chickens . . .” He clucks and flaps and sings and laughs all the way to the house.
We go into the house through the wide, cool entrance hall and into a living room that has a wall of windows overlooking a long, wide lawn down to Lake Geneva. The room is huge, big enough for a party, a ball I suppose, though it’s full of sofas and low tables set out in three groups.
The man has his back to me. He picks up a silver lighter from a low table and turns to light his cigarette so that I can see his profile. His skin is clear, pale, and looks incredibly healthy, and as he inhales and swallows the smoke I realize that this isn’t a man. This is Van.
She turns to look at us both and I’m amazed at how beautiful she is. She looks like a boy and yet a girl as well, maybe twenty years old.
“So?” She says this to Nesbitt. Her voice doesn’t match her looks but it does match her cigarette habit. She sounds like she smokes sixty a day.
“So. Hi there, Van. Good to see ya, good to be back. This is Nathan.”
Van inhales deeply on her cigarette and then slowly breathes out a fine trail of smoke. She comes closer to me and says, “Delighted. Genuinely delighted.” Her eyes are pale blue, as pale as her suit. I’ve only seen the eyes of two Black Witches before now: Mercury and my father. Both were different and totally unlike White Witches who, to me, have silver shards that twist and tumble in their eyes. But Van’s eyes have jewels of sapphire that turn, grow, and diminish, and then when they touch each other give off sparks that seem to turn into more sapphires. They’re the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen.
“You have Gabriel’s letters?” she asks me. I notice that the smoke trailing out of her mouth isn’t gray but extremely pale pink, like her tie. The smoke almost seems alive as it curls slowly up Van’s cheek, then turns and mingles with the air in front of her eyes, and the deep blue of them deepens further.
I’m vaguely aware that I reply but I’m not sure what I say.
Van’s eyes remain locked on mine and sparkle even more as she says, “Nesbitt, you were supposed to get them.” And she turns her gaze on him.
I take a step back but it’s hard. I have to force myself to look away from Van.
Nesbitt says, “I was supposed to bring them to you, which I’ve done. I could’ve taken them off Nathan if I’d had to but it would have involved violence and it seemed best to avoid that. He’s a decent fighter, this kid, in an unconventional sort of way—brings out the animal in him. Anyway, he’s here, he’s got the letters, and he’s keen on seeing his mate Gabby.”
“So . . .” she says. She has come closer to me again, closer than before, close enough for me to feel her breath on my face. I expect it to smell of cigarette smoke but it’s strawberries.
“So . . .” I say.
The strawberry smell is faint and I inhale deeper, to get more of it. This woman is the most amazing I’ve ever met. I inhale more and say, “My friend Gabriel . . . Nesbitt told me that you saved his life. Thank you. I’d like to see him.”
“I’m sure you would,” Van replies. “And I’m sure he’d like to see you. And we’d all like to see the letters.”
The letters are in the tin that Gabriel has always kept them in and I’ve not opened it, except the one time when I first found it in Mercury’s apartment. But now I have an urge to take the tin out of my rucksack. As I bend down to reach inside I breathe different air, air that doesn’t smell of strawberries. I stand up again, holding the rucksack, not the letters.
Van smiles at me and I feel my knees buckle a fraction. Annalise is beautiful but there’s something mesmerizing about Van. She’s literally stunning. But I’ve got to keep her at a distance.
“I need fresh air,” I say, and walk to the windows and draw the door to the side. “Let’s talk out here.”
The air outside is clean. Though it’s intensely hot.
Van follows and gestures to a shaded seating area on the patio. I walk to a low sofa but I don’t sit until I see where she goes and then I move opposite her.
She calls to Nesbitt. “Ask Gabriel to join us, and bring lemonade and tea for four.” She gestures to the seat, saying, “Please, do sit. I’m sure Gabriel won’t be long.”
We sit in silence for a few minutes, Van smoking her cigarette, then I say, “Nesbitt told me that Gabriel had been shot but that he’s recovered. Is that true?”
“He was shot twice and Hunter bullets are nasty things but, yes, Gabriel is over that.” She knocks the ash off her cigarette and takes another long drag before adding, “He hasn’t quite recovered himself, though. He cares for you very much, Nathan, and I’m afraid that Nesbitt, my idiot assistant—”
“Business partner,” Nesbitt corrects as he walks out onto the patio with a pitcher of lemonade that he places between us. He mutters, “Gabby was in the kitchen so I’ve broken the news that you’re here.”
Van continues. “Nesbitt, my idiot assistant, told us you were dead. As I say, Gabriel cares for you very much. He—”
I see a movement to my right and, as I turn, Gabriel steps onto the patio and stares at me. I can see he can’t believe I’m here. He looks frail and thin and he says something very quietly.
I stand and I’m not sure what to say. Words won’t cover any of it. I want to tell him I owe him my life but he knows that.
I step toward him and he strides to me and holds me tight and I hug him back. He says something under his breath, the same as before, I think, but it’s in French and I don’t know what it means.
He holds his head back to look into my eyes. He’s not smiling and his face is drawn and gray. His eyes are the same fain brown but the whites are veined with red.
I’m not sure what to say and it comes out all garbled. “I waited at the cave. I made it out of Geneva because of you. I kept hoping you’d be alive. I’d be dead
if it wasn’t for you.”
He would normally make some sarcastic comment but now he leans into me again and says something else in French.
We stay together. I hold him, feeling how thin he is, how his ribs are sticking out. I won’t let go, though, not before he does.
He says, “I thought you were dead.” And I realize that’s what he said in French. “Nesbitt said he saw your body.”
“Nesbitt is a fool,” Van chips in.
Nesbitt walks out with a tray crammed with tea things and says, “I heard that. If you’d actually seen his body . . .” And he places the tray down and sets out the china teapot, milk jug, cups, saucers, and sugar, muttering as he does so about me being gray and cold with my eyes half open.
When Nesbitt’s finished he sits down and picks up the teapot. “So, I’ll be mother, shall I?”
a a a
* * *
We spend the next half hour catching up on what has happened. Van begins with “Do tell us what happened after Gabriel left you, Nathan.”
I shrug. I’m not sure about saying anything, not sure how much she already knows.
“Let me start you off. You, or rather Rose, stole a knife from a house in Geneva. Not any old knife but the Fairborn. Not any old house but the Hunter base, and not from just any old Hunter but Clay, their leader. Rose certainly was a talented witch. However, it was not the best of plans and she paid with her life. And you were shot too.” Van draws on her cigarette and breathes out a long stream of smoke toward me. I smell the strawberries faintly. “Do tell us what happened next, Nathan.”
I look at Gabriel and he nods.
“I was shot and wounded and couldn’t run. Gabriel saved me by drawing the Hunters away.” I try to turn the subject back to her and ask, “And you saved Gabriel but what were you doing in Geneva that night? I thought all Black Witches had fled. The city was full of Hunters.”
“Let’s complete your story first,” she says, smoke curling out of her mouth with each word. “You were wounded but you had the Fairborn. You escaped Geneva through the forest—”
Gabriel interrupts. “But why were you in the forest? Why didn’t you go back to Mercury’s cottage through the cut at the apartment?”
“The poison from the bullet made me ill. I got lost. It took me a long time to find the apartment and when I got there it was swarming with Hunters. So I set off on foot—I thought I’d have plenty of time to get back to Mercury before my birthday. I stole some food, clothes, and money. I felt better at first with the food but I became weaker and weaker until I collapsed. I cut the poison out of me and then I passed out. I wasn’t dead—obviously—but I wasn’t far off. That’s when Nesbitt saw me. I woke later and set off again for Mercury.”
Van inhales deeply. “Of course the question on everyone’s mind is, “Did you make it?”“
“I made it. But Mercury didn’t perform the Giving ceremony.”
“Ah. Because you didn’t have the Fairborn?”
“Because she was busy fighting Hunters.”
They all wait, looking at me.
I say, “My father gave me three gifts.”
Van blinks. “That must have been very special.”
“Yes.”
I notice Van glance at my hand and my ring. I ask her, “Do you know him? Marcus?”
“I met him briefly a couple of times, years ago. He doesn’t come to Black Witch gatherings anymore. Hasn’t for a long time.”
“Do you know where he lives?”
She shakes her head. “No one knows that.”
We’re all silent for a second or two, then Van says, “And your Gift is like your father’s, I’m assuming, from Nesbitt’s little jibe. That is a rare Gift.”
I try to remain blank. I don’t want to think about the animal now. I haven’t felt him at all since I killed Kieran this morning.
“And then what happened?” Gabriel asks.
“My father left. The valley was swarming with Hunters. Mercury was furious with me. She told me she had Annalise and would only release her in exchange for my father’s head or heart. Then the Hunters were on us and I ran. Eventually, after about a week, I lost them. I went back to the cave and waited for you.”
“You waited a long time.”
I shake my head, but I can’t tell him I was about to give up.
Van says, “Yes, it’s fortunate for us all that Nathan is so patient.”
Gabriel’s mouth twitches. “I’ve always thought that—Nathan: such a patient person.”
“And that brings us all rather wonderfully up to date,” says Van. “Nesbitt found you at the cave when he went to collect the letters. Ah! Talking of the letters, please may I have them now?”
I say to Gabriel, “What do you want me to do with them?”
“I promised I would give them to Van.”
“And you want to keep that promise?”
“She saved my life.”
I look at Van. Her face is serenely victorious.
I say, rather pompously, “Of course, Gabriel, they’re yours and I must give them to you, just as Van should return the Fairborn to me, as it is mine.”
Van smiles, still serene. “Yours? You stole it from Clay. In fact, Rose stole it.”
“And it was stolen by Hunters from Massimo, my great-grandfather. It belongs to my family.”
She sips her tea and then says to Nesbitt, “Do you think we should give him the Fairborn? After all, you retrieved it.”
Nesbitt bares his teeth like a bad dog and shakes his head once.
“I have to agree with Nesbitt. You were rather careless with it the first time. If Nesbitt could take it from you . . . well, a child could. It needs to be kept in a safe place. It’s a dangerous and powerful object. For the moment, I think I’ll look after it.”
“It’s mine!”
“Actually, my darling boy”—Van looks at me and her eyes sparkle in a dramatically blue haze—“I agree with you. However—and I mean this in the kindest way possible—I don’t think you should have it. Not yet. It’s an unpleasant thing, full of evil magic. I can assure you I will keep it safe.” She reaches for the teapot. “More tea?”
No one answers. As she pours she says, “Nathan, the letters are Gabriel’s. Do return them to him, please.”
I look at Gabriel and he nods.
The Amulet
Gabriel opens the tin, flicks through the letters, and takes one out from the middle of the pile. It has a smudge of soot on it from when I first went through them months ago, when I found the tin hidden in the chimney in the apartment in Geneva.
Gabriel puts this letter on the table between himself and Van, saying, “The amulet. It’s yours. Thank you. I’d be dead without you.” He opens the folds of the letter and we all lean forward to look.
Van says, “Thank you, Gabriel. It really is beautiful.”
I move closer still. I’m not sure beautiful is how I’d describe it. It’s a fragment of parchment, yellowed, with faded black-ink markings on it—writing, but not like any I’ve seen before. This is laid out in a series of circles. Only there are no full circles, just semicircles, because the parchment is ripped in half.
“What did your mother tell you about this?” Van asks.
“Not much. She thought it might have some value because of its age. She told me her grandmother found it in an old house in Berlin. By ‘found’ she meant her grandmother stole it. But that’s all she knew.”
“Did she know where the other half was?”
“No, this is all we ever had.”
“And Mercury never saw it? You never told her what it was?”
Gabriel shrugs. “I didn’t tell her it was ripped in half. I thought she wouldn’t be interested if she knew that. I told her I had an amulet that my mother had given me, that it was old and valuable. She didn’t ask
any more about it, I supposed because there are quite a few like it.”
“There are quite a few amulets, that’s certainly true, and most are poor magic. I think it was lucky for me that you didn’t describe it. In fact, I suspect it was lucky for you too. I think Mercury would know what this is and she’d have killed you for just this half.” Van folds the amulet back into the paper with great care and slides it into her jacket pocket.
“Why?” Gabriel asks. “What’s so special about it?”
Van turns to Nesbitt. “I think we need champagne, don’t you? I’m sure there’ll be a wonderful selection in the cellar.” She smiles at Gabriel. “Or would you boys prefer to stick to tea?”
* * *
Later Gabriel and I are alone together in his bedroom. We’ve both drunk champagne. I don’t understand why I was drinking and what I was supposed to be celebrating and I didn’t really like it. I’ve never had champagne before, never drunk any alcohol before. Gabriel and Van talked about it as they would discuss a good book.
As we walked to Gabriel’s room the corridor seemed to be tilting. When I pointed this out Gabriel called me a “lightweight” and then went on ahead. He turned back to watch me make my way toward him. It was good to see him smile; almost as if he was back to his old self. And now we’re alone, sitting together on his bed, and finally I can ask him for his story.
“After I left you I ran. That was it, nothing more complicated. I ran and the Hunters followed. I shouted, urged you to hurry as if you were with me. It fooled them enough to think we were together. I was lucky. The best protection I had was other people—fains, I mean. I stayed where it was busy, and there was lots of confusion, lots of people, things Hunters hate: fains, fain police, noise, panic, and lots of shooting. I hoped they’d think I was a fain but at the same time I had to keep them after me. I was shot, twice, as I was running. Neither were serious wounds but the poison from the Hunter bullets weakened me and, as I can’t heal, I knew I wouldn’t last long. All I could think was that I should keep running. I remember seeing a car drive up to me, which must have been Van. Then I remember nothing until I woke up here in this room days later. I’d been ill but I think after that, after I’d recovered, Van drugged me and I told her everything. Everything about me, about my family, the letters, and the amulet . . . and about you. I’m sorry, Nathan. I know it’s private. I—”