Sixty-One Nails: Courts of the Feyre (44 page)

    "What's the matter?" The male voice in the corridor was joined by a face over Claire's shoulder. The ruffled sandy hair over grey eyes regarded us with suspicion. "Who the hell are you?"

    Claire pushed into the room, followed by the man.

    "How did you get in here?" he asked, looking at Blackbird and me, then glancing back towards the corridor. "Elizabeth, are you OK?" he asked the woman standing in front of the bed. She nodded.

    "They said they were friends of yours," she said to Claire.

    "How did you…?" Claire trailed off, glancing back at the man in the doorway. Then she stepped sideways, taking his sleeve and drawing him into the room so she could push the door closed behind him.

    Blackbird and I moved away from the door to give them some room. It was getting crowded.

    "Claire? Who are these people?" Elizabeth wanted an explanation.

    "And how did they get in here?" the man asked.

    Claire took a deep breath. "These are the people I told you about, the ones we were to meet downstairs. "
    "There are two men at the end of the corridor that are supposed to be turning visitors away," he said. "What? They just walked past them? "
    "It's not their fault," said Claire.

    "Of course it's their fault," he blustered. "They'll get their ears bent for this, I can tell you."

    "We came to see if we could help," Blackbird said quietly.

    "The doctors are already doing everything possible," Elizabeth told her. "There's nothing anyone can do except wait."

    The younger woman, who had been watching this exchange, took the limp hand of the man on the bed in hers, watching her mother.

    "Perhaps I could take a look at him?" Blackbird suggested.

    "As I said," Elizabeth spoke more firmly, "the doctors are doing everything possible."

    "Perhaps if Veronica were to take a look?" Claire suggested. "She might see something the doctors have missed?"

    "The tests were very thorough, Claire." Elizabeth glanced towards the bed. "It's down to him now. "
    "Not necessarily," said Blackbird.

    "I think Mrs Checkland would like you to leave now," the man said.

    "Very well," said Blackbird. "Claire, we need the nails. It's what we came for. Can you get them for us? "
    "Please help him," Claire said. "You can see how he is. I can't leave him like this."

    "You must," Blackbird said. "You must, because if you don't, there will be more of this and worse besides. You know it and we know it. Soon enough, they'll all know it unless we get the nails and you find another Remembrancer, someone alive enough to carry out the ceremony." At her words, Elizabeth's expression hardened, her lips blanching to a fine line. Her hand lifted to cover her mouth.

    "Oh that was uncalled for," said the man. "How insensitive can you get?"

    "It's the truth," Blackbird stated. "Let me see, how does it go? His breathing is shallow, but there's nothing wrong with his lungs. His heartbeat is weak, and yet there is no trace of cardiac problems. He has no indication of disease; in fact his body temperature is low, not high as you would expect with an infection. He appears to be asleep, but he's not."

    Elizabeth nodded. "They did a brain scan. They said it could be a shallow coma; he could wake up any time. "
    "He won't wake up," Blackbird told her. "I'm sorry for your husband, Mrs. Checkland, but he won't wake up because he isn't asleep. He's lost."

    "What do you mean, 'lost'?" said the man.

    "Can you help him?" Claire asked, cutting across the question.

    "There may be a price to pay," Blackbird told her.

    "We have money," Elizabeth said. "We can afford the best." The sliver of hope was enough to push back the tears from her eyes.

    "I wasn't talking about money. There are higher prices than money can afford."

    "What are you suggesting?" Elizabeth said.

    "Let me see if I can help him first. Then we can discuss what it may cost you."

    "Does anyone else here see that she's talking nonsense?" protested the man. "She's just exploiting your worst fears and taking advantage of your vulnerability at a bad time. It's the oldest con-trick in the book." I edged closer to the door, intending to seal it if he tried to raise the alarm at our presence. Claire noticed my movement and held up her hand to me, her mute expression asking me to pause a moment.

    "Sam, I asked you here to help. I know you think you're protecting us, but Veronica is possibly the only person who can help us. Don't ask me how I know this because I could never tell you, but I do know it. There have been plenty of times when you've been on assignment that you couldn't talk about and you've told me I just had to trust you. Now I'm asking you to trust me. "
    "But this is ridiculous," he protested.

    "Is it? You have this place wrapped up tight yet they walked in without a soul seeing them. How do you explain that? "
    "I'm about to ask that question myself."

    "Please don't. I'll do my best to explain later, but you have to accept there are things I can't tell you. You're used to secrets in your job. It shouldn't be too hard to accept that I have them too."

    Something in her words stung him. His face registered shock and surprise.

    "If you'll allow them to help Jerry," she continued, "then I'll try and explain later. In the meantime I need you to accept this. In fact I need you to do your best to conceal the fact that these people were ever here at all. Sam, I need your help. You have to trust me on this. "
    "This is crazy, you must see that. "
    "Please, Sam?"

    For a moment, he was debating within himself, then his shoulders fell. "OK," he lifted his hands in a gesture of uselessness. "I just hope you know what you're doing."

    "Elizabeth?" she asked, turning to the woman standing between us and the bed.

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

    "Initially I just want to see how bad it is," Blackbird told her. "If I can't help him then I'll tell you. I won't lie to you."
    "It won't hurt him, will it?"

    "Not this part. Bringing him back, though, may not be as easy." She stood aside. "You can take a look."

    Blackbird walked around the side of the bed, looking across at Sam, standing with his arms folded in challenge.

    She paused. "What do they call you, Sam-who-keepssecrets?" Blackbird asked him.

    "Veldon. Sam Veldon." He looked at Claire's crestfallen expression. "What?"

    Blackbird smiled. "Are you a policeman?"

    "No," he said, the lie in his tone apparent immediately to me as it must have been to Blackbird. "Something similar?" she asked. "What's it to you?" he challenged. "Will you have to write a report of this? "
    "That depends what you do," he said.

    "Claire said you know how to keep secrets. Is she right?"
    "I have kept secrets, yes."

    "You must promise me," she said to him quietly and evenly, "you will tell no one outside this room what transpires here, by whatever means. Are you willing to make that promise?"

    "I don't have to promise you anything." His stance was rigid, arms crossed, feet square. "Then I must ask you to leave," she said.

    "On whose say-so?" he challenged.

    "She's right, Sam. You have to promise," Claire insisted. "This must never be spoken of."

    "What are you?" he asked Blackbird. "Some kind of
witch
?"

    The intake of breath through my teeth drew everyone's attention, rather than Blackbird, so they missed seeing Blackbirds eyes narrow and her chin come up at the use of that word. The temperature in the room dropped and I could feel the magic prickling across my skin as she directed her anger back at Sam.

    "Use that word again, Sam Veldon, and you will regret it for the rest of your short little life." She was moving slowly around the bed, stalking towards him, each tread increasing the pent-up tension building in the room. Claire bustled past me and pulled the door open, bustling him out of the room and pushing him out into the corridor. "No," she insisted. "It's for your own good. Go and wait in the rest-room; have a cup of coffee, start smoking again, anything. Just don't say anything. At all. Do you understand? Nothing."

    He looked into her face, frustration written across his features and then made a noise between a grunt and a sigh, turned suddenly and stalked away, leaving her standing in the doorway. She retreated and closed the door again.

    "I'm sorry, Veronica, he can be so stubborn. He won't tell anyone, though. It's not in his nature."

    Blackbird appeared unconcerned now that the object of her anger had left, dismissing it with a wave of her hand as the sudden cold dispersed.

    "What's his given name?" she asked, looking at the figure on the bed.

    Claire shot another warning glance to Elizabeth.

    Blackbird spoke gently to Claire. "If I'm going to help him, I will need his name."

    She looked uncomfortable and then said, "I know," earning a puzzled look from Elizabeth.

    "It's Jerome David Checkland. Jerry for short," Elizabeth said.

    Blackbird moved back around the bed, bypassing Elizabeth and focusing instead on the young woman beside the bed.

    "And you are his daughter, yes?" she asked.

    The young woman nodded. "Deborah Checkland," she confirmed.
    "May I? I need to hold his hand."

    Blackbird moved to sit on the edge of the bed and Deborah released her father's hand. Blackbird lifted it from the covers, cradling it in her own. She closed her eyes and the room warmed, taking on the heaviness that comes on long languid days. For a moment, the air over the bed shimmered like heat haze.

    "Jerry?" Her voice sounded muffled, suppressed by the heavy air. "Jerome David Checkland, can you hear me?" The silence deepened, so the background noise of the hospital faded, replaced by a summer day's laden stillness. The figure on the bed lost some of his pinched expression. His face relaxed and the lines smoothed on his forehead.

    "Jerome David Checkland, I summon you to me. Be called."

    The heaviness deepened and then relaxed. Blackbird opened her eyes again.

    "Well, that would have been too easy, wouldn't it?" she told us.

    "What's wrong with him?" asked Deborah.

    "He's trying to return, but he is either being prevented or he doesn't know the way. I suspect he is being held against his will. If he is to break free then he will need our help. "
    "What can we do?" asked Elizabeth.

    "I can bring him here, but only for a few moments. If we are to release him then we must persuade the one who holds him to let go, and they have every reason to keep him." She stood again.

    "What will persuade them?" Elizabeth said.

    "We need to offer them something sweeter, something to tempt them."
    "Like what?"
    "Like your daughter."

    Deborah looked at Blackbird, and then at her mother, who was standing with her mouth open.

    "No!" Elizabeth said. "I am already losing my husband. I will not lose my daughter as well. Deborah doesn't need to be involved in this," Elizabeth said firmly, walking around to join her and finding Blackbird positioned between them.

    "On the contrary," Blackbird replied. "She may be just the lever we need."

    "I'll do whatever needs to be done," said Deborah.

    "Wait, child, until you know what the price may be," Blackbird told her.

    Deborah stood up and it became suddenly apparent how tall she was. She stood a head-height above Blackbird. "I am not a child and I won't be treated like one. I'm twenty-two and quite capable of making my own decisions, thank you."

    "Stay out of this, Deborah," said her mother. "He's my father," she told them.

    "Unfortunately, she has the right of it," said Blackbird, "and I called you child, not because you are childish but because you are his child and his bloodline. Blood calls to blood, and the ties of marriage mean that you are not of his bloodline, are you, Elizabeth?"

    "No, well, obviously not," Elizabeth admitted, stepping forward to take Deborah's arm. She shrugged free of it, turning away to stand alone with her back to the wall. Elizabeth looked hurt by the snub but stayed by the bed.

    "I am not suggesting we trade one for the other. Your daughter's presence will tempt her away from your husband. Blood calls to blood, as I told you. At the moment when that becomes apparent, I will have the opportunity to distract her and we should be able to pull them both back without getting caught. "
    "Who do you mean 'her'?" Claire asked.

    "Niall knows of whom I speak." I had been standing in the corner unnoticed, but now they all focused on me. "Niall has stood where your husband now stands. "
    "Have you?" Claire asked.

    I realised, then, what Blackbird meant when she said Jerry was lost. I knew where he was. He was standing in the cold glade, bare feet prickled by pine needles, surrounded by a ring of thorns. He was listening to a voice as dry as dust, trapped there by a woman dressed all in grey, arms held open in a chilling embrace.

    "She won't let him go," I told them. "She'll leech the warmth from his bones until nothing remains."
    "I'll do it," said Deborah.
    "You will not!" Elizabeth snapped.

    "It's my choice. Isn't it?" she said to Blackbird.

    "Understand what you risk," Blackbird said to her. "If she touches you she can bind you there and we will have lost both of you."

    Elizabeth moved to stand next to her daughter. "I couldn't bear to lose both of you. I simply couldn't. "
    "There's no one else, is there?" said Deborah. "If I can't bring him back, then no one can. He would do the same for me, whatever the risk. You know he would." Elizabeth shook her head, staring up into her daughter's face as if she couldn't believe the words were coming from her mouth. Then she turned away, still shaking her head. Claire stepped forwards, drawing Elizabeth away from the bed.