Sixty-One Nails: Courts of the Feyre (47 page)

    "Blackbird, of course I'll stay with you. Why would I leave?"

    "I release you from that commitment. Things are different now."
    "Yes, they are, but not in that way."

    "You said you weren't ready to start another family and you didn't think about the consequences. "
    "Whoa. You just took me by surprise, that's all. I'd barely gotten used to the idea that you wanted to, well, you know. I just wasn't prepared."

    "And because of that I won't hold you to it. You can leave."
    "Don't you want me to stay?"

    "If you want to, Niall, but only if you want to."

    "I want to. I don't want to leave you, especially like this."

    "Really? Think about this and all it means before you decide. Your daughter would have a half-brother or sister. The child will probably be Fey, while your daughter's genes may never express themselves and she may die human, long before you do. This baby may not even look human, particularly to her. Bringing up a Fey child will be different and is bound to split your attention away from your daughter. Is that what you want?"

    I thought about it, treating her questions with the seriousness and consideration they deserved, but no matter what else I thought about it, I could not see myself walking away from her and a child that was ours. I thought about my daughter, fourteen years old and almost a young woman. How would she cope with a younger half-brother or sister? What did Blackbird mean when she said it wouldn't look human? What did Fey babies look like? All of these questions assailed me, but they didn't change how I felt. If she was pregnant then I would stay with Blackbird and see our baby into the world. My daughter could learn to live with a halfsibling if she had to. Other children did. "I'm staying. If you'll have me? "
    "You're sure."

    "Of course I'm sure. What did you think I would say?"

    "I didn't know, Niall, truly. And I may not be pregnant after all, but I wanted you to have the choice. "
    "Why? Is it so terrible to have a Fey child?"

    "Well, there's the mewling, screaming bundle that cries when it's not sleeping. You feed one end and wipe the other and if you're lucky you might get a full night's sleep once a month." She smiled at me. Some of the uncertainty had gone from her eyes and was replaced by something warmer, something that made me want to hold her.

    I held out my arms and she curled herself inside them so I could rest my chin on the top of her head. We were standing there holding each other quietly when Claire came in.

    "Oh," she said. "I'm sorry. I didn't realise you were…"

    She stopped and looked at us, as if taking in what we were doing.
    "I'm sorry. I'm interrupting."

    She turned away, but Blackbird called her back.

    "It's your kitchen, Claire." She untangled herself from me. "I was trying to make coffee. Would you like coffee?"

    Claire turned back and paused in the doorway, there not being room for three of us. "Yes," she said in a distracted manner. "Yes, that would be nice."

    Blackbird pottered around, boiling water and putting coffee into a cafetière she'd found in a cupboard. "I hope you don't mind us making ourselves at home like this," she said to Claire. "Not at all, I was…"

    Blackbird shimmered and shifted where she stood, her image blending and shifting between Veronica, the younger Blackbird and various other women I'd never seen. It shifted back to Veronica and held. She turned to me. "You see?"

    "What was… What did…?" Claire stepped back slightly as if it might be infectious. "What just happened?"

    "It's OK," I reassured her. "No harm done," I said to Blackbird.

    Her form shimmered again and melted into the young Blackbird.

    "This might be easier, in the circumstances," Blackbird muttered through tight lips.

    She carried on making coffee as if nothing had changed. Claire looked as if she expected Blackbird to leap over and bite her. I slipped past Blackbird. "She's not having a good day," I told Claire. "Lack of sleep after last night probably isn't helping. Give her a moment or two and a cup of coffee and she'll be fine. "
    "The coffee is for you," Blackbird called after me as I shepherded Claire back into the living room. "I don't want any this morning, it tastes acrid."

    I stopped. Claire looked at me. "It's the only coffee I have," she explained.

    "No, sorry. The coffee's fine, really. It's just Bla– Veronica! She's having one of her moods. "
    "She has moods?" Claire asked, warily. "She'll be fine. I promise."

    Claire moved over to the windows and let in the daylight. She opened the window, letting in city noises and fresh air. Then she went to a vacant armchair, perched on the lip of the seat and looked uncomfortable. "I'm very grateful for what you did last night," she began.

    "But you would rather we went sooner than later," I finished for her

    She looked crestfallen at what I had said, then grateful and relieved.

    "It's not that I don't trust you." She looked embarrassed as she realised I would be able to hear the truth of that statement.

    "All right," she admitted. "I am really grateful you stayed last night. If I had come back here alone after what happened yesterday, I don't think I could have slept a wink. It really helped. It's just that with you being what you are, I feel nervous around you. "
    "That's OK. We all have to go soon anyway to get the nail and we are grateful for your hospitality. We just need a little while to get ourselves together, that's all."

    Blackbird appeared through the doorway, handed a mug of coffee to me. "Here, you had better have this back." She passed me the Dead Knife, holding it gingerly by the wood of the handle so her skin didn't touch the blade. I took it from her, watching the blade shimmer and fall into blackness.

    "May I use your shower?" she said to Claire.

    Claire was distracted by the black blade. "Of course. Help yourself."

    "Thanks." She went towards the bathroom.

    There was a pause while Claire waited for the bathroom door to close.

    "You found the Highsmiths, then?" Claire commented, nodding towards the knife.

    "We did. That's why we need you to get the nail."

    "I see. You don't have to tell me, of course, but does it bother you when she's a pensioner one minute and a girl the next?"

    "I'm getting used to it," I replied. "You don't have anything I could wrap this in, do you?" I indicated the knife.

    Claire stood and went into the hallway. She returned a moment later with a towelling cloth. "It's an old one, too big for a flannel and too small for a towel." She passed it to me.

    I carefully wrapped the blade in the towel.

    "I didn't know it did that," she said, watching the knife shift back to dull grey.

    "Neither did I. You should see it when Veronica holds it."
    "Perhaps not," she demurred.

    I let the subject of the knife drop and concentrated on getting ready to leave. An hour later we were all dressed and ready to go. I cancelled the seals on the doors and we left.

    "I'm sorry if I was touchy earlier," Blackbird said to Claire as she locked the front door behind her. "I didn't notice," said Claire. Curiously, that didn't sound untrue, as if she had willed it to be so. "We're grateful for you putting us up and for coming with us to get the nail."

    "And I'm grateful for what you did for Jerry. He would have died if you hadn't helped, wouldn't he? "
    "Eventually," Blackbird confirmed.

    Claire had called a taxi and a black cab was waiting for us when we got downstairs. We all got into the back and Claire gave the driver crisp instructions to take us to the Strand. I sat on the jockey seat while the two women sat on either side at the back while we rumbled through the streets.

    Blackbird had gone back to the appearance she had in Shropshire, the one I had said I liked. She had a gypsy skirt and a loose cotton top in an emerald green that brought out the sparkle in her eyes. Her hair formed a cloud of gold and copper around her head and against Claire's sombre outfit of low heels, dark blue skirt and matching blouse, she looked exotic.

    The cab driver dropped us near the church of St Mary-le-Strand and I paid him. We walked with Claire down the Strand and across the wide road until we were outside the Royal Courts of Justice. "I won't be long," Claire told us.

    "You're not going in alone," Blackbird told her. "We'll come with you."

    "It's OK. The building is closed on a Sunday but they're used to me going in at odd times. I'll get the nail and bring it straight back."

    "Don't imagine they've given up, Claire. They're just waiting for the right opportunity. You're not safe until the knife is re-forged and the ceremony has been performed. We're coming in with you."

    She looked as if she were about to argue and then changed her mind. "All right then, if you think so." We went to a side gate where a security guard was on duty. I felt a tingle as Blackbird's magic encompassed her and me. Claire nodded and smiled at him; we followed after. Claire pulled a pass from her handbag and the guard looked at it and nodded. He barely glanced at either Blackbird or me as we walked past behind her. Claire spoke to him for a moment and then joined us.

    "Keith says it was quiet over the weekend and security haven't reported any problems."

    "That doesn't mean anything. You saw how easy it is for us to get inside. The smallest distraction would be enough."

    We walked through a side entrance and across the main hall over to the stone stairs up to the first floor. Claire's shoes echoed on the tiled floor as we followed her towards the office. As we approached she slowed down and then halted. "What's the matter?" asked Blackbird.

    "Nothing. It's just that, well, isn't it the other way? "
    "Isn't what the other way?" asked Blackbird.

    "The office. I know it used to be this way but now I'm not sure."
    "What are you talking about."

    "The office. Didn't we move offices?" She looked bemused as if her memory was failing her.

    "Claire, we met you in your offices last week. It was at the end of this corridor. Unless you moved after we went on Friday then it's still there."

    "Yes, of course. You're right. How silly of me." She still didn't sound convinced.
    "Well go on then," Blackbird urged.

    Claire looked confused for a moment and then carried on. As we moved down the corridor towards the door to the office I could feel the hackles on the back of my neck rise. Claire stopped again. "Can you feel that?" I asked Blackbird.

    Claire answered, "They're in there, aren't they?"

    Blackbird moved around to stand beside Claire. "Who is, Claire? Who's in there?"

    "I don't know. The people you're hiding from, the ones that will try and stop us."

    "If they were in there then you wouldn't know it until it was too late. They're just trying to frighten you. Feel the fear and understand it. It's false. You have no reason to be afraid. It's your office and there's nothing there. "
    "But they're in there. I can feel it."

    "It's an old trick, Claire. Confuse the path and then leave a non-specific fear for those who get through. Let it latch onto uncertainties and exploit inner fears."

    "They were here, weren't they?"

    "Yes, they've been here. They've gone, though."

    "How do you know they're not still in there?" She glanced nervously towards the door.

    "Because if they were, you wouldn't know about it until it was too late."

    "It could be a double bluff. They could be in there waiting for us."
    "Then why leave the warding?"

    "To turn away casual intruders?" I suggested. "You're not helping," said Blackbird.

    "Claire could be right, though. What if they're in there waiting for us."

    "Oh, don't you start. Listen to your heart. Feel the warding there and know it as I know it. Hold the fear up and examine it under a cold light. Greet it like an old friend. Can you do that?" I tried to do as she said.

    "Now, does it change? Does it switch to something else and wriggle into another crack in your confidence? Does it slither into deeper uncertainties, looking for darker fears to latch onto?"

    "No. It's just that one thing. They're here and waiting for us."

    "That's because there's no one driving it. It is what it is and that's all it can be. If they were here then it would feel different; as if it had a life of its own."

    It made sense in a strange kind of way. The fear, once faced, was just that. It lost its power and became something small and irrelevant.

    "I still don't think I can go in there," said Claire.

    "I can," said Blackbird. She turned and swept towards the doors, throwing them open.

    At the moment she opened the doors, the fear vanished. Beyond the doors, though, we could see the office was wrecked. Claire's desk had been upturned onto the floor with one steel leg bent out at an awkward angle. Bookcases filled with legal works had been pulled down and the books scattered around the floor. Handfuls of pages from books had been ripped from their bindings and strewn around the room, drawers were pulled open and their contents dumped onto the floor. "Oh no," said Claire. "Look at the mess."

    With the fear dispelled, Claire walked forward and stood in the doorway, surveying the damage. The double doors into the Remembrancer's office had been flung open, the bookshelves pulled over and pictures pulled from the walls and smashed on the floor. It looked like someone had jumped up and down on them, buckling the frames and tearing the canvasses. "I don't understand. How could this happen? We're supposed to have security."

    "Not against intruders like these," said Blackbird.

    "I need to call them. They're supposed to check these offices overnight."

    "Don't blame them," I told her. "Can you imagine what walking down that corridor would have been like in the dark on your own? "
    "But why didn't they raise the alarm?"