Sixty-One Nails: Courts of the Feyre (14 page)

    The Skipper walked to the door and through into my bedroom to look out over the balcony. I stood up, but Colin held up his hand. "Just stay there, sir." I could feel all the hairs on the back of my neck rise. It wasn't some old guy they'd found, it was the Untainted, come for me. I wanted to warn them, to tell them to leave it alone, but I couldn't think of what to say without appearing insane.

    Colin's radio buzzed and crackled. "We're going to pull him out. Jim's just…" There was a weird sound in the background, like a woman giggling hysterically but with a man's deeper voice.

    The radio died. The light bulbs wavered, dimming to a yellowish glow.

    Colin clicked at his radio. "Say again, Eddie." The radio was dead.

    I looked at Colin. I couldn't let this happen. I yelled through to the Skipper. "Tell them not to touch it. Tell them!"

    A scream came from the back of the house. It was Jim's voice. "Get it off me! Get it off! Get it off!" The Skipper thundered out of my bedroom. "Officer down, get an ambulance!" He ran down the hall and bounced off the end wall, taking the stairs down two at a time.

    Colin shouted. "Stay here! Don't open the door 'till I say." He ran after his boss.

    From the back of the house I could hear Jim. "Oh God! It's in my eyes! My eyes! I can't see!"

    The manic laughter rose in pitch. The lights winked out, leaving me in darkness. I grabbed my coat on the way past the chair.

    Shouted commands came from the back. "Stand where you are! Police! Don't move!"

    I ran towards the stairs as Jim's screaming subsided to a gurgling, choking sound. I wrenched the front door open and ran out into the rain. I sprinted straight past the startled Colin who was talking urgently into the car radio in the open door of the car. He shouted something as I ran out into the road. I fled that sound, lengthening my stride and pushing myself, not caring that my heart hammered in my ears or that my feet were sore where my boots chafed my bare feet. I had to get away. I ran on into the night, knowing what was behind me if I stopped.

    I took alternate right then left turns as I met each junction, working my way towards the tube station where there would be other people, other human beings. I needed to lose myself, and fast.

    Adrenaline fuelled my pace and kept me moving until I finally came to a halt at an empty bus shelter. I leaned against the inside for a moment, my breath raw in my throat, then shrugged into my coat, thinking it would be easier to run while wearing it than holding it. My chest heaved and my heart hammered. I couldn't keep this up indefinitely, I just wasn't fit enough. I needed a plan.

    I pushed off the bus stop and started running again. There was a minicab service near the tube station. If I could make it to there I could get a car into London. As Blackbird had said, I would be harder to find in the city. A glance backwards showed a light like a bright star rising in the sky in the direction I had come. Shit! No one told me it could fly! Then the sound caught up with me. The jittered thumping meant the police had called in a helicopter. A beam of the light stabbed down onto the streets behind me. Were they looking for me? Why? I was the victim. I was the one who was being pursued by the thing in the garden. They should be dealing with that, not chasing innocent people.

    Except I wasn't innocent. I had known what was back there and I could have warned them. I had tried to warn them but it had come too late. Now I was a witness, possibly even a suspect. An officer had been hurt. No, I was kidding myself. An officer had died. Now they would try and find me. And even if I told them the truth they would never believe me. And then they would lock me up.

Seven

    The helicopter circled away behind me, scanning the streets and gardens. As I approached the row of shops near the tube station, the buildings got taller, keeping me from tracking the helicopter and, hopefully, preventing it from tracking me.

    They would be using thermal imaging cameras and I was sweating from the long run. The cool night breeze against my wet clothes would chill me quickly once I stopped running but for now I would shine like a beacon for the camera.

    I stepped into the alley alongside a shop, letting the darkness and the narrow gap conceal me while I caught my breath. I could still hear the angry buzz of the chopper echoing around the empty streets but I figured that turning up at the minicab office out of breath, looking like a man on the run while a helicopter searched the streets would be a dead giveaway. I straightened my coat and used a tissue from my coat pocket to wipe the sweat from my face. Leaning against the wall, I re-tied the laces of my boots in a respectable fashion and then stood, adjusting my trousers so they covered my bare ankles and straightening my coat.

    It wouldn't take the police long to work out that I had evaded them. They would watch the tube stations and alert the taxi firms. They had taken a good look at me and would issue a description from that. If I was going to be able to get a cab without being recognised I needed to do it soon.

    Then it occurred to me, I could change my appearance. I could walk right past them and they would never know it was me. All I needed was the will to do it. The glamour Blackbird had shown me in Trafalgar Square the previous morning might be the key to evading my pursuers.

    I closed my eyes for a moment, imagining myself wearing my suit and tie, ready for a day's work, fixing the memory of it, convincing myself I was wearing my business attire. I felt a shift inside as darkness stirred within me. There was an answering tingle on my skin. Looking down, I found my clothes shifting and blending, the cloth of my coat rippling like water as my attention wavered. I struggled to fix the image, my boots switching to shoes and back to boots as I watched. It was no good, I simply didn't have enough control to maintain it. I let the glamour slip and reverted back to my true appearance. I would have to take the chance they hadn't alerted everyone yet.

    I stepped out of the alley, trying to look inconspicuous, walking steadily towards the road where the taxi company had their all-night offices. Taking a cab directly into central London would lead the police to look for me there. What I needed was somewhere where there were enough people to make it hard to find me amongst the crowds even at this time of day. I needed somewhere that I might reasonably want to hire a cab to get to early in the morning. Paradoxically it would be somewhere where the security was much tighter. I needed Heathrow Airport.

    Buttoning my coat, I walked out of the alley, trying not to look hunted.

    I kept close to the buildings as I turned in to the sidestreet where the minicab firm was based. As I turned the corner, I saw the tell-tale flash of blue lights. From the shadow of a doorway I saw a fire engine roar past the end of the road, lights blazing, siren silent until it reached a junction further on where its brief wail echoed back down the wet streets.

    The Fire Service, aside from putting out fires, also dealt with biological contamination. They were treating the flat as a contaminated area. If they thought the mould was some kind of manufactured biological weapon then their efforts to find me would be on a different scale. It took all my reserves of will-power to walk into the radio-taxi office and appear calm.

    I opened the door to the smell of hastily smothered cigarette. The bloke manning the radio was wearing thick glasses and peering at a newspaper crossword, apparently oblivious to the smoke still rising from the waste bin. He looked up. "Yes, mate?"

    "Good morning. Could I get a car to Heathrow, please?"

    He considered this for a moment and I hesitated, wondering if a description had already been circulated. I was about to tell him not to bother and start running again when he spoke.

    "It'll cost you fifteen quid at this time of day, mate. "
    "That'll be fine, but I need to get there quickly. "
    "Got an early flight, have you?"

    "Well, you know how long it takes to get through all the security these days. Better to be early than to risk missing a flight, eh?" It wasn't a lie, but he would assume I was flying out. Maybe the police would make the same assumption when they questioned him, later. "It'll be two minutes, guv. The cars are just coming on shift. Shouldn't take long. Have a seat."

    He spoke in staccato sentences and indicated the vinyl covered chairs by the door. I sat down, while he spoke into the radio, summoning a car for me. I was painfully aware that if the police walked in now I would have no escape. I fidgeted in the seat then forced myself to stillness. The minutes passed with agonising slowness. When the man looked up from his crossword and spoke, I almost jumped in my seat. "Car's just outside, guv," he said.

    "Thanks," I said, trying to conceal my nervousness with enthusiasm.

    I got up and went outside. There was a Ford Mondeo estate parked outside. The diesel engine sounded rough and harsh. As I approached, the passenger window slid down. I leaned down to speak with the driver.
    "Where to?" he asked me.
    "Heathrow, please?"
    "Right you are."
    I opened the door and slid into the back, pulling it shut behind me. He set off without waiting for me to buckle my seat belt.
    "Which terminal?"
    "Sorry?"

    "Which terminal at the airport? Should be written on your ticket."

    "Oh, terminal one, please. That'll be fine. "
    "Europe, is it?"

    "I have some family business to clear up," I told him, avoiding the direct question. "Personal matters. "
    "Well, I hope you have better weather than we're having here."

    I let the comment hang, not wanting to get into a detailed conversation when I would find it difficult to lie to him. Our route took us past the tube station and, as we drove by, I could see a police car had pulled up on the pavement near the entrance. The officers were talking to someone in a London Transport uniform. One of the officers watched our car go past. I turned away, hoping he hadn't spotted me.

    "Boys in blue having a busy night," the driver commented as we passed.
    "Really?" I responded.

    "Yeah. Didn't you hear that helicopter earlier? I reckon someone's done over the pharmacy again. They never learn, do they?"

    I wondered for a moment who they were, who never learned, but offered no encouragement for him to continue.

    Fed up with holding a one-sided conversation, the driver turned sport radio on instead. The endless speculation as to the outcomes of the weekend's fixtures was a dull monologue in the back of the car. I did my best to ignore it.

    I kept an eye out for blue lights approaching fast from behind us, but there was no sign. I figured the policeman at the tube station must not have seen me, the wet and dark working in my favour for once. I used the respite in the back of the car to think.

    There was no doubt in my mind that the Untainted were hunting me. I was sure one of them had been in the flat and in the back garden. It sounded like it had gone for one of the police officers, the one called Jim, the rugby player. I wondered briefly whether he had family, someone waiting for him to come home. Suddenly filled with guilt, I veered away from the pain of others, distancing myself from responsibility and concentrating on my own problems.

    It had only taken the Untainted a short while to find me. What had she said? I had to keep running? Where to? Besides, I'd only have to bump into someone like Fenlock and I would be just as dead. I really needed Blackbird's knowledge and advice. She was the only one I knew who didn't want to kill me, rob me or arrest me. The problem was finding her. I felt I had offended her by probing too far into her secrets. It wasn't that I wanted to know everything about her, but part of me needed to know who I was dealing with. I didn't think it would make much difference to me if she turned out to be like Kareesh and have pale skin and rows of pointed teeth, she had shown me nothing but kindness. She was quick and canny and in charge of her own destiny which was more than I could claim.

    Kareesh had said she was hiding without being specific about what she was hiding from, but my guess was that it was related to her true form. Why was that such a sensitive issue? I had seen Kareesh and, while she was a little unorthodox, I thought I could accept her for who she was.

    With Blackbird I felt our friendship was tenuous at best, though I wanted it to be stronger. The trouble was that I needed her a lot more than she needed me. What could I offer her? I knew she felt responsible for me, but that was hardly the basis for an enduring friendship, was it? Still, if I was going to make it through the next few days I needed her help.

    That sent me back to the problem of finding her. In the real world I knew how to find people. I could use the internet or phone directory enquiries and ask for a name, a number, or some other reference.

    Blackbird was different, though. She didn't inhabit the world of computers and databases. I didn't know her name, only what she called herself, and I was pretty sure that if I phoned directory enquiries their first question would be "Is that a first name or a last name?" I had no idea where she lived. She'd told me she had a flat, and a flatmate, but she had not told me where it was. I pondered for a moment what the flatmate might think of her. Was the flatmate Fey too? Did they live together? And how did Blackbird pay rent for a flat? I knew so little about her that finding her by conventional means was impossible.

    She'd said she would find me, though she had refused to be drawn on when or where. Perhaps the first thing to do was to go somewhere I knew she could find me. Maybe that would be enough. If I could get back to Trafalgar Square avoiding police attention, I should be fairly safe there.

    What had she said? "Yo
u'll never be safe again, get used
to it."

    I spent the rest of the journey in silence, half listening to the inanity of the radio and considering Blackbird's advice.

    When we reached Heathrow I had the driver drop me at Departures for Terminal One. I was sure the police would find the taxi firm and the guy in the office would remember me. If I gave the impression I was getting a flight somewhere then that would be something else they would have to check before they found my trail again. At this stage, the more hares I could set running for them to chase, the better.