Alex Verus Novels, Books 1-4 (9780698175952) (92 page)

Luna's curse works on objects as well as people, although nowhere near as strongly. Usually I can tell if something belongs to Luna by looking for the silver aura. As her curse touched the focus, though, something different happened. Instead of sticking to it the mist was drawn in, being absorbed. “It's attuned to you,” I said. “It draws in your curse and uses it.”

“Okay,” Luna said. She was holding the thing by the handle but still looked a little puzzled. “What does it, um, do?”

I was about to tell Luna to try it and see when I remembered Arachne's warning. “Wait a sec.” I walked out of the room and into the corridor, then put my back to the wall and leant into the doorway so that the only part of me visible from inside the room was my head. “Try it now.”

“Uh,” Luna said. “Okay. So I'm supposed to—”

Luna's curse poured into the focus and it activated. A thin tendril of mist snaked from the tip, extending to ten or twenty feet long. All of a sudden Luna wasn't holding a wand but a whip, the thong made from the silver mist of her curse. To anyone who couldn't see Luna's curse it wouldn't have looked like anything at all, but I could see the whip curling around her. “Hey,” Luna said curiously. “It's doing something, isn't it?” She lifted the handle to look at it, turning it back and forth.

The whip slashed outward, zigzagging across the room, its length amplifying the small movements of the handle. I ducked behind the door frame as the end of the tendril lashed into the corridor. “Okay, it's working!” I shouted through the doorway. “Turn it off!”

I felt the effect shut down and peeked my head cautiously around the corner. Luna was standing at the centre of what looked like a spiderweb of silvery lines. Glowing trails of invisible silver mist traced lines along the floor, walls, and ceiling. Luna was looking at the handle with new interest. “Invisible whip,” she said. “Cool.”

“Arachne based the design off an Australian stock whip,” I said, walking back out. “The long handle's for balance, but since the whip's weightless it doesn't take any strength to use.” I glanced around at the glowing lines on the walls. “On the downside, the whip's weightless and doesn't take any strength to use. We're going to have to work on your aim.”

“It feels . . .” Luna said, frowning down at the focus. “Strange. Not in a bad way. Natural, I guess. Like it fits.”

“Arachne designed it for you,” I said. “The thong of the whip is formed from your curse. If you hit someone with this whip it's as if you'd touched them. It's just as subtle and just as lethal.” I locked my eyes on Luna. “This is a weapon, not a toy. You can use it on an azimuth piste safely. But never use it anywhere else unless you're intending to kill whoever you point it at. I'm trusting you with this. Don't make me regret it.”

Luna nodded. “I understand.”

“Good.” I walked to the end of the azimuth piste and activated the shield. “Let's give you some practice.”

I worked with Luna late into the night, and she picked up the basics of attack and defence
very
fast. Both the whip and her curse seemed eager to do their job, striking out at targets and protecting her in return. The problem was control—the whip didn't want to hit just one target, it wanted to hit everything, and only the azimuth shields kept me safe. By midnight we were both exhausted. I dropped Luna off at her room and checked that Anne was there before saying good night. I wanted to sleep, but this was a good chance to get a look at the deeper parts of Fountain Reach.

*  *  *

T
he outer rooms of the mansion were busy despite the late hour. Apprentices were still up and chatting in each other's rooms, excited about their first night at the tournament, while their masters talked over drinks in the lounges. I prowled the corridors, a silent shadow in my mist cloak. My cloak doesn't make me invisible—good light or movement makes it possible for a watcher to spot me, and both together make it almost certain. But when I combine it with my divination magic, watching for the areas where people will look and avoiding them, there's not much that can find me if I don't want to be found.

As I went deeper, the background noise died away. It seemed most of the guests had been housed around the edges of the building, and as I walked the halls I could see why. There was something oppressive about the inner mansion—the ceilings felt too low, the architecture too alien. Most houses are designed as places to live and they're meant to be comfortable for the people who use them. Fountain Reach didn't feel like that. It was as though it had grown for its own reasons; the people inside were just trespassers. All around I could sense the thrum of the wards, limiting my vision, and it felt as though the mansion were looking for me.

Turning in to a corridor I heard a muffled voice from ahead of me. The corridor was old and crooked, the floor age-darkened wood. Animal heads were mounted on the wall, gazing down with dead eyes: deer, leopard, buffalo. I stood still and listened. The voice came again: a woman. It was coming from a door a little farther down. I moved forward, placing my feet softly on the bare planks.

As I drew closer I recognised the voice as Crystal's. She was arguing with someone, but for some reason I couldn't hear the other half of the conversation. “. . . take some time,” Crystal was saying.

A pause, then Crystal spoke again. “The end of the tournament, obviously.” Another pause. “That's impossible. You'll just have to wait.”

It sounded like she was on the phone with someone. I sized up the corridor and decided to take the risk of getting in close. A stag's head was mounted above the door, antlers reaching almost to the ceiling, glass eyes staring at the opposite wall. I put my ear to the door and listened.

“No,” Crystal said sharply. The door looked like it had been well crafted, but it was warped from long neglect and there were gaps between the planks that let sound through. “Absolutely not.”

Silence, then Crystal again. “I don't care. It's too risky.”

Something was odd: I could make out Crystal's voice clearly but I couldn't hear anything else. If she was on a phone or speaking into a headset I should be able to hear something, even just a buzz. I looked into the future in which I opened the door to peek inside.

The room within was a bedroom that looked like it had been abandoned for years. A four-poster bed was piled with dust, the hangings moth-eaten. Old and darkened pictures hung on the wall and Crystal was standing in front of one of them. The angle caught her in profile, showing off the beauty of her features and making her gold hair shine against the murky background. She was frowning, though, and she wasn't talking into a phone or headset. She seemed to be talking to the wall.

“The whole point of this plan was so we didn't have to keep picking at random,” Crystal said. “There's virtually no chance we'd get someone who'd meet—”

Crystal cut off. Looking again into the immediate future, I saw she was staring at one of the pictures. “Then
wait
,” she said abruptly. “We've been preparing for months and you'd risk it all for this?”

There was no answer but Crystal threw up her hands. She was acting as if there were someone right there talking to her. “I don't care! It's too dangerous.”

I tried to figure out what was going on. Mind mages can communicate by telepathy but that didn't explain why Crystal was saying her half of the conversation out loud. She was speaking as though to someone in the same room. I tried looking into the future and focusing with my mage's sight, searching for someone cloaked or invisible, but all I could make out was the background noise of the wards.

Crystal had gone still all of a sudden. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “Are you threatening me?”

Silence. I couldn't hear any movement; we were alone in this part of the mansion. “Remember our agreement,” Crystal said. A pause, then she let out a long breath. “All right. But this is going to be the only one. Understand?” Whatever answer she got seemed to satisfy her. Footsteps sounded from the room, heading for the door.

Even forewarned, it was a near thing. I made it to the next door and slipped inside just as Crystal stepped out into the corridor. Holding the door shut, using my divination magic to watch Crystal, I saw her turn away and head down the corridor without a backward glance. The clack of her heels on the wooden floor grew quieter and quieter until there was silence.

I gave it three minutes just to be safe, then stepped out, looking after where Crystal had gone. I hadn't checked to see what her exact reaction would have been if she'd discovered me there but I was pretty sure it wouldn't have been positive. She'd been careless, letting me eavesdrop like that. Probably she'd assumed that no one would be able to sneak up on her without her sensing their thoughts, and to be fair, most of the time she'd be right. But it's never a good idea to rely too much on your magic, no matter how powerful it is. My mist cloak had kept me hidden and given me some interesting little snippets into the bargain. It seemed like Crystal had been making a deal with someone. But who?

I entered the room in which Crystal had been talking and gave it a quick once-over. Like all the inner rooms of Fountain Reach it was windowless: The only illumination was the glow of the electric lights. I couldn't sense any signs of life, in either the present or the future. It looked as though the room had been dead for years.

Crystal seemed to have been talking to one of the pictures, and I took a closer look. It was an old portrait done in oils, its gilt frame dusty. It showed a man in his late middle years, thin and stooped with sunken, commanding eyes. I studied the picture but found no magical aura, no special devices. The painting had no name or signature either. The man looked out of the portrait with a fixed stare, his gaze following me.

I searched a little longer but found nothing. Tired and weary, I finally retraced my steps to my room. I hung up my mist cloak, set a few basic safety measures, and was asleep almost as soon as my head hit the pillow.

chapter 9

I
t was cold, and the roof was made of bones. The carpet was soft under my bare feet but the ceiling above was ragged and gleamed pale in the shadows. The corridors were hushed, and the halls were silent as a tomb.

“You shouldn't be here,” Anne said from next to me.

I looked at Anne. Her face was pale and her eyes haunted. “What are you afraid of?”

Anne shook her head. “He knows you've come.”

A sound made me turn. A brown-skinned girl was standing there; she looked familiar, and wore a look of terrible grief. Slowly she turned and began walking away. “Wait!” I shouted. “Don't!”

She vanished into the darkness. I ran after her and found myself alone. A door stood before me; it looked smaller and older than the others. I pulled it open.

My feet came down with a squish in mud. Inside I saw tall hedges, only a few feet away, with gaps between them that led into darkness. There should have been a night sky above but there wasn't. I could feel the walls around me. Ahead, the entrances stood alone and empty.

Looking into the darkness, I felt a wave of terror. There was something inside, something horrible, and if I went inside I would meet it face to face. I backed away, but the door and walls were the same. Everything was hidden. I was already inside and something was watching.

I spun, fighting back panic, trying to see where to go. The wall shook with a banging noise. “Alex!” it shouted at me. “Alex!”

“Leave me alone!” I shouted back.

“Alex! Alex!”

*  *  *

I
came awake with a gasp. My precognition was screaming at me—
danger danger danger!
—and I rolled out of bed while still half asleep, grabbing for a weapon. I came down onto the floor on one knee, bleary-eyed, knife in my hand, looking left to right.

The knocking on my door came again. “Alex?”

I should know who it was, but my sleep-fogged mind couldn't process it. I looked around the room. The flash of danger on my precognition had gone. The room was safe. I looked at the alarms I'd set before going to bed: the chair under the door handle with glasses balanced on it and the ward stone that would have triggered if something hostile had appeared in the room. Nothing had changed. I was alone.

Knock-knock-knock
went the door. “Alex? Are you there?”

“Coming,” I said vaguely, looking around. Something had woken . . . no, it had set off my . . . what had it been? The dream was fading and I couldn't remember. I shook my head and reached for my clothes.

I opened the door to see Anne standing in the hallway, dressed in a long-sleeved blouse and a purple skirt. Her hair was styled neatly around her shoulders, and she looked as though she'd gotten up early—or at least a lot earlier than me. “Hey,” I said. I looked from left to right. “Where's everyone else?”

“Ah . . .” Anne said. “Luna's practising with Gabriel in one of the azimuth rooms, Variam's getting ready for his first match, and everyone else is in the hall waiting for the first round to start.”

“You're on your own?” I glanced up and down the hall again. Somehow that bothered me.

“There's something wrong,” Anne said. As I looked at her I realised that she looked worried. “Yasmin's gone missing.”

“Yasmin?” I frowned. “Who—?”

Suddenly I remembered. The girl from yesterday, Natasha's friend, who'd been trying to bully Variam and Anne. An image flashed through my head of her face turning away, mud, and tall hedges. I put a hand to my head, feeling a sudden chill. “Alex?” Anne asked.

“Yeah,” I said. “I'm fine.” Suddenly the walls of the mansion felt oppressive. We were alone and I couldn't sense anyone in the present or the future but I couldn't shake the feeling of being watched. “Walk with me. We're going outside.”

*  *  *

A
s soon as I was out in the sunlight I felt better. It had turned into a clear, crisp winter's morning, a low sun shining from a cold sky. The gardens of Fountain Reach were all around us, well kept and beautiful. Away from the wards my divination magic was back to full strength and the creeping unease had gone. A few other people were out and about, elderly gardeners tending the plants and apprentices walking in the sun.

“She was supposed to have been back last night,” Anne said. We were walking along one of the gravel paths, curving slowly around towards the back of the house. “Natasha woke up this morning and found she never got in.”

“She was outside the mansion when she vanished?”

“I think the last anyone saw her was at the station.”

“And no one's been able to get in touch with her since?”

“I don't think so.”

It sounded familiar—too familiar. I knew the Keepers would be searching but my gut told me they'd have no more luck than with the previous ones. “The tournament's still going ahead?”

“I don't actually think most of the apprentices know that she's missing.”

I gave Anne a look. “So how come you do?”

“Um . . .” Anne said. “I guess people just mentioned it?”

I had a feeling there was more to it than that but let it slide. I took a glance around. The fountain in the central driveway was visible over the hedges and people were in sight in the gardens. From outside, the mansion and everything around it looked normal, peaceful . . . but I couldn't shake the feeling that something was very wrong here.

“Jagadev sent you and Variam here,” I said. “What did he tell you?”

“He told us to help you.”

“But why
here
? What does he know about Fountain Reach that made him send us to it?”

Anne frowned. “Variam asked, but . . . I got the feeling it was something about the place, not the tournament.”

“What about the place?”

“He wouldn't say.”

I thought for a second, then nodded. “Okay, I need to do something dangerous. Can you give me a hand?”

Anne hesitated for a second. “. . . All right.”

*  *  *

T
he corridors of the mansion were empty as we headed back. I could hear the buzz of voices from the direction of the central hall, followed by a roar. The first round of the tournament had begun. “He's this way,” Anne said. “Um . . . there's something you should probably know. Morden and Jagadev don't get on very well.”

“So I gathered,” I said as we started down one of the corridors. “What's up with that?”

“I'm not sure. But Morden once asked me if I'd leave and be his apprentice.”

I glanced sharply at Anne. “What did you say?”

“I said no,” Anne said. She sounded very definite.

We walked a little way in silence. Through the walls I heard a muffled cheer from the duelling hall, along with someone shouting something. “You don't have to answer this if you don't want to,” I said. “But what exactly is the deal you and Variam have with Jagadev?”

Anne sighed. “Everyone thinks it's something really crazy. They think we're being trained as his apprentices or we're bonded to him or we go out and murder people on his orders or something. No one ever believes me when I tell them the truth.”

“What is it?”

“He gives us a place to stay,” Anne said. “That's all, really.”

We reached an intersection and turned left down a long hallway. We were moving deeper into the mansion, and the sounds of the crowd were fading behind us. “But if you're staying with him, you're part of his household,” I said. “You might not be his apprentices but every mage is going to treat you as though you are.”

Anne was silent. “That's it, isn't it?” I said. “It's for protection.”

“Jagadev . . .” Anne hesitated. “Mages . . . know about him. As long as we're with him they won't want to cause us any trouble.”

“Variam told you that, right?”

Anne glanced up at me, then back down at the floor.

“Was Variam the one who made the deal?”

Anne shook her head. “Jagadev came to us. It was when we were in London, after . . . He said he could make sure nobody else came after us.”

“And what does he get?” I asked. “What do you do for him?”

“Little things. Deliver messages, be around for gatherings. He'll ask me for information but he won't ask us to do anything dangerous.”

“Until now,” I said dryly.

Anne was quiet for a moment. “Jagadev didn't make me come here,” she said at last. “I . . .” She stopped and looked in the direction of the wall. “He's there.”

I glanced into the immediate future and confirmed it. “Okay,” I said and took a breath. “Let's do this.” I walked through the doorway and into the next room. “Onyx,” I said, raising my voice. “Hi.”

Onyx moved like lightning. One moment he was standing facing the wall, the next he was turned towards me, slightly crouched, one hand extended towards my chest. A very faint hum sounded from his hand, and with my mage's sight I could see the outline of the blade of force ready to be thrown. Looking into the future, I could see it streaking from his fingers and tearing through my chest in a spray of gore. I held quite still.

Then Anne stepped out next to me. Onyx's eyes flicked to her but his hand didn't shift. “Not going to say hello?” I said. My heart was racing and it took an effort to keep my voice casual.

Onyx's eyes shifted between us but he didn't answer. Dressed in black, he stood out against the old, musty room. Bookshelves made it look as though it had once been a library, but most were empty and the carpet smelt of dust. “Relax,” I said. I deliberately turned away from Onyx and walked to one of the shelves, taking Anne out of the line of fire. “I'm just here to talk.”

Onyx's hand moved to track me, but he didn't turn away from Anne. “Brought some protection?” he said.

“Protection?”

Onyx tilted his head towards Anne and gave me a thin smile. “I'll kill her before she makes it three steps.”

I sighed. “Would you please quit the bullshit?”

Onyx held my gaze for a second longer, then lowered his hand, the force blade dissipating. “Okay, I'll play. What do you want?”

“I figure you might be able to help me,” I said.

“Go fuck yourself.”

“Here's how it is. What Morden sent you here to do is the same thing I'm trying to do right now. Now I don't like you and you don't like me, but for today at least we're on the same side and this'll go a lot faster if we work together.”

Onyx curled his lip. “And what are you going to do?”

“I find things out,” I said. “It's what I do. You, on the other hand, break things and kill people. I can do things you can't. This is why mages cooperate.”

“If I want something from you,” Onyx said, “I'll take it.”

“And that worked out so well for you last time, didn't it?”

Onyx stared at me. “Let's start small,” I said. “You're thinking of cutting through that wall, right?”

Onyx's eyes flicked to the wall to his right before he could catch himself. “What's it to you?”

“It'll set off the same alarm you triggered the last time you trashed this place. The tournament might be keeping the other mages busy, but not
that
busy.”

Onyx didn't answer but I saw the future of him carving through the wall with his force magic waver and vanish. I hadn't been able to see many details, but I'd seen enough to know that the reaction would have been instant: that same psychic scream that had come before. “My turn,” I said. “If you're thinking of going digging, you're looking for something. What is it?”

Onyx stared at me a moment longer, then gave a tiny shrug. “Bodies.”

I relaxed very slightly, though I didn't let myself show it. To my left I could feel Anne watching, keeping silent. “So Morden thinks the missing apprentices are here in Fountain Reach,” I said. “Why?”

“You don't need to know.”

“He didn't tell you, huh?”

Onyx stared at me again. He had a flat unblinking way of fixing his eyes on someone that was really creepy, like a predator picking out a target. “Why here?” I said.

“Sealed room.”

“Then let me find a way in.” I moved to the bookcases, studying them.

The wards over Fountain Reach damped all kinds of scrying magic, reducing the range at which I could use my divination. To a new diviner, they'd probably be crippling. But I'm not a new diviner and I hadn't wasted the free time I'd had since getting here. Since I couldn't see as far into the future, I put the energy I would have spent into searching a larger range of short-term futures instead, and as I looked at the bookshelves a thousand future copies of myself studied them in a thousand different ways. I stepped back. “That one.”

Onyx gave me a look. “There's a way in behind it,” I said, giving it a nod. “The bookcase isn't fixed to the floor. Move it sideways.”

Onyx didn't react. “I know you can do it,” I said. “I've seen force mages lift ten times that weight.”

“You don't tell me what to do.”

“Fine.
Please
could you help move that bookcase so we can see what's on the other side?”

Onyx looked as though he was trying to think of a reason to say no, but after a moment he grudgingly twitched a hand. With a creaking, scraping noise the ten-foot bookcase rose and pivoted in midair. Dust bloomed around us and books toppled and fell to the carpet with thumps but the bookcase didn't wobble, held by bands of force. As it twisted away, a door was revealed in the wall. It was faded and looked ancient. “It's locked,” I said. “Give me a second and I'll—”

Onyx made a flicking motion and the door burst inwards with a crunch of splintering wood, leaving the lock still attached to the door frame. Beyond were stairs descending into darkness and a clattering sound echoed up to us as the bits of door went bouncing down the stairs to hit the bottom with a double
thud
. “Or you could just do that,” I said.