Sixty-One Nails: Courts of the Feyre (42 page)

    "Don't worry, we'll come to you. Which hospital is it?" If Blackbird could fix my heart, maybe she could do the same for the Remembrancer.

    Claire gave me the name of a private hospital that I had last heard reported on the news when one of the royals was ill.

    "We'll come to you," I repeated. "Maybe we can help."

    "There's security. They're treating it as suspicious, though suspicion of what, I'm not sure. "
    "What kind of security?"

    "The police are guarding all the entrances. I think it's mainly to keep the press out."

    "OK, look, I'm not sure how long it will take us to reach you, but wait for us there."
    "I'm not going anywhere. And Niall?"
    "Yes."

    "Next time, just leave me a message, OK?" The connection closed.

Twenty-Two    

    I took my hand from the mirror, the outline of it still clear in the misty smudge of condensation.

    James said, "Well, that beats directory enquiries."

    There was a grumble of laughter from his father and the tension in the room eased a little.

    I turned to Blackbird. "Do you think you could help the Remembrancer?"

    "That depends on what happened to him."

    "Without him it's going to be difficult for the ceremony to go ahead," I pointed out.

    "That may be true, but it doesn't change anything. He may be dying naturally."

    "You heard what Claire said: shadows that come to life?"

    "I heard her. But if they've terrified him into heart failure then the damage may already be done. "
    "You helped me," I pointed out.

    "That was different, Niall. I was there when it happened." There was an edge of impatience to her voice. "Maybe when we get there I'll take a look but I can't promise anything. In the meantime we need to finish the knife." She turned to the Highsmiths, seated around the table.

    "What do you want us to do?" Jeff Highsmith spoke for them.

    "We need you to complete the new Quick Knife. We'll have the key by tomorrow, one way or another. I think we can get the hammer. We need a smith."

    "You'll have one," Ben Highsmith volunteered.

    "Dad, it's a long way. It should be me," said Jeff.

    "No, son. You stay here with your family and keep them safe. This could turn nasty, and if the worst comes to the worst then I'm at peace with it. I had all those years with your mum. I won't let you throw away the years you have to come."

    Meg reached over and grasped Ben's hand.

    "But Dad!" Jeff suddenly sounded like his son, James. "How dangerous is it?" Meg Highsmith's voice cut across them both.

    Blackbird answered. "If we manage to do it before anyone realises what we're doing, then the danger is minimal. He might slip and fall into the Fleet, which wouldn't be too pleasant, but that's about the limit. "
    "And if they realise?"

    "Then there are those who will try and prevent the re-forging of the knife. They have already tried to kill Niall and you heard the state of the other person they found. I won't lie to you; I doubt we can win if it comes to a fight. Our best hope is getting the knife re-forged before anyone notices."

    He shrugged his shoulders in a very matter of fact way. "I may be old, but I've been a smith all my life and I'm not weak. Anyone who tries to do me a mischief will get cold iron up his arse."

    Meg forced a smile and Jeff squeezed his father's shoulder, though they must both have known it was bravado. Lisa pressed herself under her grandfather's arm, less willing to accept the bluster at face value. "It may take us a little while to get the nail, but we should be able to meet you at midday tomorrow outside the Royal Courts of Justice. Bring the new knife and any tools you think you might need to finish it. The roads shouldn't be busy. It is Sunday, after all," Blackbird said.

    "Aye. I'll be there."
    She smiled and thanked him.

    "It's the nature of the deal," he told us. "Besides, how many men can say they've worked metal for the Courts of the Feyre in their lives? Not many, I bet. "
    "Not many," she agreed.

    "We need to get moving if we're going to be any help at the hospital." Blackbird was gathering our things together. "We have a long walk ahead of us, so we'd better get going."

    "Can we give you a lift somewhere?" Jeff offered.

    "Actually, I don't think we need one," I told him. "Ben, would you mind keeping the old Quick Knife here? It's broken anyway and it's probably more use to you than it is to us. "
    "I can do."

    "Then would you pass me the Dead Knife from the case?"

    He lifted the lid of the case, releasing the miasma that hung around the Quick Knife, and then closed it again after removing its dull grey twin.

    "What are you intending to do?" asked Blackbird.

    "I think there might be a quicker way back, and if it doesn't work, then our walk will still be waiting for us. It shouldn't take long."

    Jeff slid the knife across the table within reach and I picked it up. As the metal made contact with my skin, it shimmered momentarily and then fell into perfect black, a broad leaf of darkness. "Take hold of my hand."

    "Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked.

    "No, but you did say I should trust my instincts. I don't think it'll do any harm and it could save us the journey. Do you want me to try it on my own first? "
    "No," she said. "I'll go where you're going. Then at least we won't get separated again." She reached out tentatively and grasped my hand. The knife stayed lightless but inert. "Ready?" I asked her.

    "Thank you, Jeff and Meg, for your hospitality," she said. "Ben, we will see you outside the Royal Courts of Justice at midday tomorrow."
    "I'll be there."
    "Now I'm ready," she told me.

    I lifted the knife in my hand and focused on it. Then I called to the emptiness within me. It welled upwards into the knife and the world slid into neither up nor down. Everything interleaved without touching, overlaid and underlapped in a kaleidoscopic dizziness. We were close to everywhere without being anywhere. I kept a firm grip on the warm hand clasped in mine as we slid between places, finding the gaps where we could pass, tasting but not touching.

    It occurred to me that we didn't have to go to London. I had the knife and was no longer bound by concerns of distance. We could go anywhere, be anywhere. The world would spin without us, if we dared let go. I only needed to choose somewhere calm and peaceful and we could find respite, just for a while.

    The possibilities were arrayed about me, tempting me with all the variations of existence. Each one was a world in a bubble, independent and isolated from those around it. All I had to do was choose.

    But if I chose a different world, then everything would change. The smith would arrive at the rendezvous alone and the knife would never be re-forged. The barrier would fall and Raffmir and his sister would come and go as they pleased, feeding on humanity. The world would slip into chaos.

    I could not let that happen, if only for the sake of my daughter, for they would surely seek her out and do to her what they had failed to do to me. I refocused, aware now that the drifting thought pattern was part of the interstitial space we traversed. Something here set the mind adrift so that thoughts wandered and all sense of space and time were lost. I began to understand how it was that I had lost two hours when I was here before.

    I forced myself to recall the image of the room above the abandoned underground station with the arched window looking out over the Strand. I formed the thought that we could be there. And we were.

    Blackbird staggered, unbalanced slightly by the sudden return of gravity and space. She looked around, recognising where we were. We could see through the window that it had fallen dark outside.

    She let out a held breath. "How much time did we lose?"

    I turned back, noting the change in her voice, realising that she had reverted to her older appearance, the one I had first encountered. "Is something wrong?" she asked me.

    "No. It's just I thought… never mind." I tried to hide my disappointment that she'd chosen to change back. "If we're going to meet Claire, it has to be as someone she will recognise," she pointed out, reasonably. "I know. I understand." It made logical sense, but I wasn't any happier about it.

    She approached me and lifted her mottled hand under my chin. It felt strange, as if her hands weren't hers somehow. It was an effort not to pull away. "It's still me, Niall."

    "I know, but it's strange. I know it's you, still… "
    "How much time do you think we lost?"

    "I'm not sure. It couldn't have been long." It had still been light in Shropshire, but we were further east here, so had we travelled into the dusk? Was that why it was so dark?

    She grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the stairs. "Niall, you have no idea about time there, do you?"

    "What do you mean? It's not late."
    "Not late? My watch says eleven o'clock. Which day is it?"
    "What do you mean, which day?"

    "I mean we left on Saturday. What day is it now? "
    "It's still Saturday, isn't it?"

    Blackbird pulled me down the stairs down to the corridor that led towards the street door. "I shouldn't have let you do that."

    "But we're here, quicker than we would have been. Travelling on the Ways would have taken longer and been much more exhausting."

    "You don't even know what day it is. What if we've missed the smith?"

    "We can't have, can we?" I followed her along the darkened corridor to the heavy door leading to the street. I felt a tingling sensation as her power swept out around us so we could exit the door unnoticed. She pulled back the bolt and twisted the lock, pulling open the heavy door and letting me past before she followed me out onto the pavement. We stepped outside into the street and I waited while she locked the door behind us. Once the door was secure, she let the magic surrounding us dwindle away.

    Cars were still rumbling down the Strand, though it was less busy than it had been when we were here before. A pale-skinned guy in a duffel-coat, marking him out as a student, was walking towards us. Blackbird stepped into his path.

    "Excuse me, do you know the time, please?"

    He paused in his path and glanced at his wrist. "It's just before eleven." His accent marked him as a West Coast American. "And it is Saturday, is it?" she asked him.

    "Sure," he said. "It has been all day. Are you OK? "
    "We're fine. Just making sure," she told him.

    He stepped past and walked on, glancing back with a puzzled expression and then shrugged as if to acknowledge the strange eccentricities of the English. "We're in time," she acknowledged. "You see. I told you."

    "Niall, tell me truthfully, before I asked that man, were you sure what day it was? Really?" I couldn't lie to her. "No. I suppose not."

    "I shouldn't have assumed you knew what you were doing. We could have missed the whole thing. "
    "It would have taken us almost as long to travel back on the Ways, especially if you take the walk into account. "
    "Yes, but we could just as easily have ended up at next Tuesday and missed the ceremony."

    "We didn't, though, did we?" It was what she would have said to me in the same circumstances.

    Blackbird turned to me, exasperation on her face. "Do you know where the hospital is?"

    "I have the name of the hospital. I think it's somewhere near Marylebone."

    "Then perhaps we should get a taxi. A cab driver should know where it is."
    "Won't that be uncomfortable?"

    "We're not going very far and it's safer than other ways."

    She stepped to the edge of the Strand and hailed a passing black cab. It pulled across the traffic and drew up alongside us. I named the hospital to the driver and he gave us a curt nod, so we piled into the back. The journey to the hospital took us down the deserted shopping streets, the lights still bright in the windows. As we came closer to our destination the shops gave out to offices and residential buildings. The cab turned left into a side street and pulled up by the kerb.

    "Here ya go, mate." The driver announced our arrival. I paid him out of my diminishing cash and he rumbled away down the street. "There. That wasn't so terrible, was it?"

    "No, but I'm going to need more money soon."

    Trying to get more cash to bolster my diminishing reserves would be an interesting experiment, since I was sure if I used my cash card the police would know both where and when I had used it within minutes. They had already tried to track my phone, so the bank account would be the next logical step.

    "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it," she said. It was an acknowledgement that if we could get to the ceremony then we would need to start thinking about the longer term. It brought home to me how little I had left. My life was in tatters and I was hunted by both the Untainted and the police. Still, if the re-forging of the knife went badly then there wouldn't be any future for me to worry about. I needed to focus on the task in front of me and set the consequences aside for later in the hope that there would be a later.

    "Claire said there was security at the hospital." I eyed the unguarded doorway as we approached, wondering what form that security might take.

    "If they are on the alert for unexplained visitors and strange faces then we may have some difficulty reaching Claire, even allowing for the fact that I can make us less noticeable. We will need to know where they are in the hospital, though. "What do you suggest?"

    "Why don't you go in and use your charm. It worked at the Royal Courts of Justice."
    "Will you wait here?"

    "Come back out here when you find out what's going on," she called after me.

    I walked across and up the steps through the front entrance into the well-lit reception. There were closed doors leading off to left and right at the back and a desk in the centre.