The Key to Starveldt (2 page)

‘Have you seen Morgause’s diary, Erasmus?’

‘Not yet, my lord.’

‘I have. Certain pages are missing – specifically, those pages concerning the prophecy. As my mother’s beloved freak was instrumental in its recovery, and as he further claimed to have killed the boy Glide – whose body has yet to be recovered – one begins to wonder where his loyalties lie.’

‘I agree, my lord. He is an unfathomable creature at best.’

‘Unfathomable. Yes. An excellent word.’

There was a pause. Lukin looked from Grief to his notes and back again, uncertain as to where the conversation was headed. His back began to itch, but he stubbornly refused to scratch it, waiting instead until his lord leaned back from the snakes and stretched, pushing threads of black hair away from his handsome face.

‘I approve Mikhail’s plan to keep a watch on the warehouse,’ he said at last. ‘Should it eventuate that Glide has been left alive, he may prove a useful ally, either denouncing Sharpsoft as a traitor or by putting his talents to use. You will continue with your research as planned. I want to know, firstly, who guards my sister, and secondly, how I might kill them. Until the key to Starveldt is recovered, we cannot afford to leave any stone unturned. The castle will be ours. Is that clear?’

Lukin exhaled, once more filled with purpose. ‘Crystal, my lord.’

I
f ever there’d been such a thing as normalcy, Solace considered, it must have had the life expectancy of a suicidal mayfly. Being saved from death by an inscrutable feline and deposited in a magically sealed safehouse was all well and good; but it didn’t explain how Evan had managed to procure a plastic apron with painted-on bosoms and a slogan about the kissability of cooks. The idea that a house provisioned by vampires – and worse, by
her parents
– contained such an item was alarming. Solace realised her mouth was open, and closed it.

‘Breakfast?’ Evan asked, by way of greeting. He waved a plastic spatula towards a nearby frypan and frowned. ‘Well, it’s brunch, technically. It just looks like breakfast. We’re in the realm of noon.’

‘Yes,’ said Solace, muzzily. She’d just woken up, and was only about seventy percent of the way towards full consciousness. Rubbing sleep from her eyes, she glanced around.

Besides Evan, the kitchen was staffed by Manx and Harper. Apart from Evan’s ludicrous apron, all three boys were clothed only in boxer shorts. Noticing this, Solace blushed and tightened her bathrobe – she’d left her clothes downstairs the night before, and had been forced to improvise. Seeing her expression, Manx cocked his head towards the laundry and raised a mischievous eyebrow.

‘Electra’s done a load of washing,’ he said. ‘Your stuff included. So we’re all reduced to toplessness, and everyone else is in robes.’

‘I lobbied for the other way round.’ Evan sighed. ‘But no one ever listens. Philistines.’

‘Clothes should be done soon, anyway,’ Harper said, ignoring Evan’s remark. ‘They’re on the line.’

‘And the others?’

‘Jess is in the shower,’ said Manx. ‘Laine’s upstairs, and Paige is outside with Electra. We’ve been taking turns at the hot water,’ he added. ‘We’re all done, but you can go next, assuming there’s any left.’

Solace shrugged. ‘That’s okay. I had one last night.’ Craning her head, she peered longingly at the still-sizzling breakfast, which appeared to feature everything from bacon and minute steaks to fruit and cereal. Despite her guilty feast the previous evening, her stomach rumbled at the enticing smell.

Seeing her expression, Harper grinned. ‘Give it another minute. We’ll call when it’s ready.’

Nodding, Solace turned, walked past the lounge and flinched. There was Duchess, camouflaged against casual scrutiny by virtue of having furled herself into a cushion-shaped ball. Feeling a hard knot rise in her throat, Solace remembered their conversation of the night before: Duchess, who’d been silently guarding her since the group home, had allowed her friends to be captured by the Bloodkin. Though Solace’s rebellious internal monologue – a voice she’d come to think of as the Vampire Cynic – urged her to confess, the little cat had forbidden her to speak of it. Instead, a more human part of her bowed its head and acquiesced, afraid of how her friends would react.
As if my life isn’t already complicated enough.

Shaking her head, she looked away and kept moving. Solace had small tolerance for her own selfpity, and rejected it fiercely now.
It’s a new day
, she told herself.
More importantly, we all survived to see it. Lighten up
!

She paused at the back door. It was full-length glass. Wary of direct sunlight, she surveyed the sky. It was slightly overcast, and most of their small garden was in shade. Taking a deep breath, she slid the door open and slipped out, savouring the crisp, wintry flavour of the air.

With her arms crossed over her knees, Electra was sitting with her back to the side wall. She watched the laden clothesline drift heavily round in the breeze, while Paige lay full stretch on the grass, eyes closed. Overhead, the drying clothes moved gently on the line. Solace recognised her own black shirt between Jess’s blue singlet and Laine’s corset, and hoped she could soon reclaim it.

‘Morning!’ Electra called, without turning around. Paige raised her head, waved, and lay back down again. Both girls wore their robes with an ease Solace envied.

She stepped gingerly onto the grass, still wary of the hour. It was surprisingly green, dotted with greybeige paving stones that formed a broken, rambling footpath towards the back fence. Underfoot, it felt cool and dimly moist.

‘Thanks for doing the laundry.’

‘Don’t mention it.’ Electra turned and smiled.

All too clearly, Solace remembered her friend’s trembling exhaustion the night before. Guilt churned within her briefly. Electra’s grey eyes were clear, her skin bright, her hair washed clean of smoke and sweat, but there was more to the transformation than hot water and a good night’s sleep could account for. Electra’s expression was serene, reflecting a quietude that bordered on the spiritual. Surprise must have shown in Solace’s face, because the blonde girl tilted her head in query.

‘What?’

‘Nothing. I mean, you just look very calm today, that’s all. And last night was … I’m trying to think of a better description than “Book of Revelations meets magic cat”, but it’s just not coming to me.’

Electra snorted. Paige laughed with enough force to make her midsection spasm uncomfortably, prompting her to turn and prop herself up on an elbow.

‘Breakfast ready?’ she asked, rubbing her ribs.

‘Just about.’

‘Come on, then.’ With a pleasant sigh, Electra straightened and stood, flexing her fingers. She nodded to the clothesline. ‘These are nearly dry, anyway.’

They stepped back inside, shutting the door behind them. As Paige slipped past to the kitchen, Electra turned to Solace. ‘Am I going nuts, or has this house been
made
for us? I mean, exactly the right number of beds, toothbrushes, towels, an absence of anyone else …’

‘You’re not going nuts,’ Solace promised. ‘Although the universe might be.’ She paused, before steering back to safer territory. ‘Speaking of which, didn’t you promise Duchess another swan? She’s asleep now, but when she wakes up –’

Electra grimaced. ‘Ye gods. Don’t remind me.’

‘Remind you of what?’ asked Jess, startling them both.

Solace turned. Newly emerged from the bathroom and dressed in yet another ubiquitous robe, the seer waved a cheerful good morning with one hand, wringing out her wet hair with the other.

‘Swans,’ said Electra.

Jess made a face. ‘Gotcha.’

‘Breakfast!’ called Manx. ‘Anyone want to call Laine?’

‘No need.’ From her spot by the counter, Paige pointed: the Goth girl was already making her way downstairs, evidently having sensed the imminence of food.

They ate in silence, or rather, the closest approximation to silence involving chewing, condiment-clinking, the scraping of knives and other such interruptions. The only conversation consisted of requests to pass the jam, toast, steak, bacon, onions, sauce, sausages, fruit, juice, cereal, bread, milk or eggs, although Solace declined these last two and all the condiments on the grounds of allergy.

It was a veritable feast, and each of them was ravenous.

Eventually the meal was gone: crusts chewed, yolk mopped up, bacon rind scavenged and bowls emptied. Stuffed to the gills, they sat back, savouring satiety and enjoying a moment of peace.

Then Laine spoke, glancing at the three boys. ‘So. You guys cooked all that?’

Guardedly, Evan raised his head. ‘What of it?’

‘Nothing.’ She stretched. ‘I’m just amazed you knew what the stove was for. And that it was all so tasty.’

From where he sat, Harper managed a gracious half-bow. Manx feigned wounded dignity. Solace laughed.

‘It’s like a Christmas miracle,’ Evan grumbled, not quite blushing at the backhanded praise.

They all rose and began to clean up, stacking so much into the dishwasher that it barely closed, while Electra fielded queries as to the readiness of their clothes.

‘God,
yes
,’ said Jess, with profound enthusiasm. ‘Don’t get me wrong – I love the robes – but a houseful of semi-naked people isn’t nearly as much fun as “Big Brother” makes out.’

‘Volunteers to change that state of affairs?’ quipped Evan. ‘I think there’s some whipped cream in the fridge.’

Jess groaned. ‘Older sister standing
right here
!’

‘Clothes,’ said Electra firmly, before Evan could respond. Nonetheless, her mouth twitched at the corners. ‘Come on. They should be dry by now.’

With the exception of Harper’s shirt, several thick pairs of socks, and – regrettably – Evan’s jeans, she was proven correct. While her brother lounged by the clothesline, Jess rolled her eyes and went back to the bathroom, leaving everyone else to find their own changing space. Pulling on fresh clothes made Solace wince to realise how genuinely filthy they’d been before.
Never again will I take hot water for granted.
The simple luxury of clean fabric made her feel more human than she had in weeks.
Well
, amended the Vampire Cynic,
for a given value of human.

Once dressed, however, their energy dissipated. No matter how calm they all appeared, Solace knew, no one had forgotten the dungeon. They moved like ants disoriented by a broken food trail, milling and directionless. Rubbing her arms, she glanced round for her leather jacket, the one article of her clothing Electra hadn’t been able to wash. She wasn’t cold, but the coat was comforting. She found it folded in a corner of the dining room. As she pulled it on, something crackled in the left-hand pocket. Her hand touched paper.

Sharpsoft. My mother’s book.

How could she have forgotten? Mentally cursing herself, Solace pulled the pages free and walked back to her friends. ‘We need to look at these,’ she said firmly. Her heart was racing.

‘Right,’ said Harper. ‘Let’s –’ He stopped, staring at the lounge.

‘What?’ Solace asked, then looked herself. The others followed suit, until eight pairs of eyes were fixed on the big sofa.

Tiny and graceful, Duchess stretched her slender white forepaws. Yawning sweetly, she sat on her haunches and winked her pale green eyes, glancing around the room before fixing her sights firmly on Electra.

There was a moment’s pause. Electra turned apprehensively to Solace.

‘Did she just say –’

Solace grinned, unable to stop herself. ‘She wants her swan.’

‘
Dammit.
’ Electra sighed, glancing at Duchess. ‘Just hang on a minute, will you? I need to put some clothes in the dryer.’

Dutifully, Solace relayed the message, feeling her cheeks ache with the strain of not laughing. Shoulders slumped, Electra trudged outside, grabbed the remaining wet clothes off the line and hauled them into the laundry. A minute later, she reappeared as the whirring, thumping sound of an older model dryer filtered into the background. Helplessly, the summoner looked to each of them in turn, but Duchess’s will was immutable. Jess, at least, had the grace to look somewhat abashed, but when faced with her friend’s pleading eyes, she made a surprisingly Evan-esque bow and waved her into the kitchen.

‘Tiles, I think,’ she added over the top of Electra’s resigned exhalation. ‘The last one bled a bit.’

As Duchess leapt neatly down from the lounge and padded into the kitchen, Paige stood on tiptoes and leant over the counter-top, peering downwards with undisguised fascination. ‘Speaking of which, what happened to the carcass? Did she, I mean –’ she flicked her eyes to Jess, ‘– eat
all
of it? Like, even the beak?’

Jess made a face. ‘You’ll see.’

Evan edged nearer the stove, one arm wrapped around his naked torso, having divested himself of his apron when the others changed. ‘Just to be clear? This is utterly sick.
We’re
utterly sick. And I cannot for the life of me look away.’

‘Thanks for that,’ said Solace.

‘Hoo, boy,’ murmured Electra, closing her eyes. There was a pause. Duchess flicked the tip of her tail.

A pale gold glow suffused the kitchen, growing in intensity until it was bright to the point of blinding. Electra let out her breath. The light died. Everyone craned forwards, staring at the far corner of the kitchen.

Flapping its clipped wings and hissing in wild agitation, a large swan arched its neck at Duchess, watching her from the corner of one small and frightened eye.

So quickly that Solace almost missed it, Duchess pounced, grappling the startled bird mongoosestyle, closing her jaws around the back of its head. Digging her sharp fore claws into its breastbone, she bit down hard – harder than she should have been able to. With a sickening
crack
, the swan’s neck broke. Honking and hissing, it began to spasm, blood marring its white feathers in ever-thickening rivulets as Duchess snaked her head around to finish it off at the throat. With a final, piercing shriek, the swan died, collapsing into a heap of defeated bird flesh, extremities twitching in the aftershock of pain.