The Mortal Knife (18 page)

Spike's expression was one of superhuman calm. ‘He isn't a superhero, or at least not in the conventional sense. There were no radioactive bites or space rocks involved. I prefer to think of him as a self-made man.'

Mrs Gollum cleared her throat. ‘I'm not really sure what you mean –'

‘Batman was just really rich and then he used his money to become Batman. It's basic economics. He had the money to invent cool stuff and learn his ninja moves. So, I'm going to be a hacker first to get the money and then I'm going to use it to become Batman. Only not Batman obviously because he's old school. Maybe Eagleman or Cobraman.'

‘You could be Porcupine Man,' Dan said helpfully. ‘You know, going with the Spike thing? Spiky? Porcupines?'

‘Yeah, don't be Cobraman. Too much Lycra. I can sketch you a few costume ideas,' Archie said with a totally deadpan expression.

Adam bit his lip to stop himself grinning. Mrs Gollum was looking from face to face, uncertain how best to proceed. Eventually she decided to cut and run. ‘Well, there are some very interesting ideas at this table boys. You all seem to have your future careers in hand. I don't think you need me any further.'

They didn't laugh until she was a safe distance away. Dan grinned at Spike. ‘That was brilliant. I wish I'd said that. Anyway, what does
she
know? Why would you have to be good with your
hands
to be a
dentist
?'

Adam raised an eyebrow but said nothing, fervently praying that he would never have to let Dan anywhere near his teeth. He turned his attention to Spike. ‘You didn't flip when she said you were silly. I'm impressed.'

Spike shrugged. ‘I meditated. It's what Batman would do. Mindfulness. Zen. I've been reading up on all that stuff. If it's good enough for Batman it's good enough for me.'

Archie snorted. ‘Yeah, whatever. Where were you? How come you got out of the first bit?'

Spike smirked. ‘I was busy. I had more interesting things to do.'

‘Did the Beast make contact?' Dan was twitching with a mixture of eagerness and terror. ‘Is he still searching for the Wonderfish?'

‘Yeah, he's still invested.' Spike narrowed his eyes. ‘So I sent some gushy emails – I weally, weally wuvs you I do blah blah blah – and then I told him no more naked-ass pictures. I mean I thought about getting a few extras and plastering them round the toilets but he's such a freak he'd probably be happy about it.'

‘Well he is pretty buff,' Dan said wistfully. His eyes widened as the other three turned and stared. ‘What? He is! He's still a psycho but he must go to the gym every night. If I looked like that I wouldn't bother wearing clothes. Well, maybe some pants. But that's all.'

Spike shuddered. ‘Forget about the Beast. He's a footnote. The real reason I was late was because of something much more important.' He waited till he had their complete attention, then lowered his voice dramatically. ‘I was making contact with my source. My CIA guy.'

‘I thought he'd vanished?' Archie stopped drawing and put down his pen, a sign that he was giving this his complete attention.

Spike rolled his eyes. ‘Yeah, he'd gone to ground for a couple of weeks. He reckoned something was coming to get him. As in, something from the
stars
. I'm pretty careful myself but this guy has turned paranoia into an art form.'

Dan flicked a yoghurt raisin at a neighbouring table and grinned at the hissed chorus of rage from the girls sitting there. ‘He sounds like one of those tinfoil-hat types. I saw a programme about them. They're all like, “Help! They're coming to take me back to the mothership! Save me!” I mean, seriously, if you think a tinfoil hat stops aliens stealing your thoughts, the real question is: why would the aliens want
you
?'

Adam was watching Spike and holding his breath, desperate to hear what he said next. He tried to sound only casually interested. ‘And what did he say? I mean, apart from the alien stuff?'

Spike whipped out his portable hard drive. ‘Oh, nothing much. Only that he's sending me his facial recognition software tonight.' He grinned at them. ‘And luckily I'll have a whole weekend to play around with it. By Sunday night I'll have it crawling the internet for our mystery bomber and his mate.'

Adam stared at him, hoping that the colour wasn't draining from his face. ‘Do you think you'll find anything?'

‘Dunno. It'll probably take a while. I'm going to put in a few faces I know to test it out. Then I'll let it loose on the web. See what it comes up with.'

Dan looked sceptical. ‘I know you're going to be Porcupine Man one day but seriously, why do you think you're going to have more luck than the police?'

Spike smiled coldly. ‘Because unlike the police I don't quit. Batman always gets his guy – and I will too.'

Adam swallowed hard. Things had gone his way all week. Somehow he felt like his luck was running out.

Over the weekend Adam should have been relaxing. He knew his classmates would be having long lie-ins, demanding breakfast, playing computer games and hanging out with friends. He tried to imagine what it would be like if this was his life. Instead he was on guard duty, watching over one of the most slippery characters in London – namely his brother Luc.

Adam didn't believe that Morta would strike just yet. Yes, she may have had Luc in her sights and Adam was going to have to come up with some way of distracting her. For now though the sudden deaths were staying low, which meant she was giving Darian time to snoop. Adam still felt a pang of guilt at not saving people but it was way too dangerous. It was bad enough risking the wrath of the Concilium on his own, never mind risking his whole family because a Curator had a grudge against his father.

Still, Adam couldn't help worrying that Luc would do something stupid. It didn't help that his brother was still besotted with the Fate. Saturday was wet and cold and Luc obviously had nothing better to do than stay at home for the afternoon. Nathanial and Aron were taking it in turns to do the handful of call-outs, leaving Luc free to mooch into the den, where Auntie Jo and Adam were watching
Zombies vs Hitchhikers
. Auntie Jo
was already getting stuck into the whisky. Adam and Luc exchanged glances. It was an early start even by her standards. ‘Having a private party, are you?' Luc said from beneath a raised eyebrow.

Auntie Jo scowled and paused her film. ‘It's cold outside. It's just a little nip to keep me warm.
Uisce beatha
,
as Paddy says
.
'

‘Yeah but I don't think he means the “water of life” stuff literally. You don't actually have to drink it like water.' Luc yawned and mimicked Uncle Paddy's accent. ‘So, what's the craic?'

Auntie Jo looked irritated. ‘It's not like you to be moping about at home on a slow day. I thought you'd be off enjoying your freedom now that the call-outs are back to normal.'

‘I thought I'd hang out here and liven the place up,' Luc said.

‘Are you going out tonight?' Adam tried to sound casual and disinterested.

Luc shook his head through another yawn. ‘Dunno yet. Need to see what's happening.'

It all sounded like a promisingly quiet evening – but of course by early evening Luc's mobile was on fire and after dinner Adam caught him slipping out of the back door. ‘Where are you going?' His voice sounded shrill in his own ears.

‘Out.'

Adam was desperate to know more. ‘Yeah, but where? What are you doing? Are you going to Flip Street? Or meeting someone?'

Luc stared at him, bemused. ‘What, are you like my minder now? I'm going out. That's all you need to know.'

‘You could take me,' Adam blurted out, trying to stall him. ‘I can just run up and get changed.'

‘Yes, Adam, what a brilliant idea. Why don't I take you out, bribe a particularly stupid and violent bouncer into letting you in with me and then watch you throw up all over the girl you're trying to cop off with. That sounds like a great night out.'

Adam scowled. Dragging up the painful memories of Cryptique was just low. He tried another tack. ‘Yeah, there's probably some girl you're meeting. I don't want to cramp your style.'

He was waiting for a crushing Luc-comeback but to his surprise Luc shook his head. ‘Nah. No girl. I've lost interest.'

Alarm bells were going off in Adam's head. ‘Why?'

‘I don't want a girl. I want a
woman.
And not just any woman. I want someone like
her
.'

Adam's heart sank. He didn't
need
to ask who Luc was talking about but he checked anyway. ‘You don't mean Morta, do you?' At Luc's nod he groaned and shook his head. ‘What is it with you?! You're mental! She's a Fate! She's not just some woman in Cryptique.'

Luc shrugged. ‘I reckon she likes a bit of a challenge.' He gave a filthy leer. ‘Must get pretty lonely up there all by herself. I could help her pass the time.'

She's not as lonely as you think
, Adam thought. Aloud he said, ‘Look, she's a nutter. She's been killing people for fun! You heard Heinrich – she doesn't
have
to take every single soul to meet her quota but she does it for
fun
!'

Luc sighed. ‘I know. She's a real psycho. A smokin' hot psycho!' He grinned and opened the door, slipping out into the garden.

‘Don't go near her if she calls you! Seriously, find someone else!' Adam hissed at the retreating figure. He had a sinking feeling there was nothing he could do to save his brother from himself.

It was a relief to get back to school on Monday, although Adam still had a guilty feeling that he should be at home on Luc duty. In the end though, what could he actually
do
? Without telling Luc the whole story, there was no way of explaining the danger he was in. Telling the truth was impossible; the consequences were too huge. Luc wasn't a snitch over the small stuff, but this was putting the whole family in jeopardy. Besides, trying to keep tabs on Luc was like herding cats. All he could do was hope that Morta stuck to her deal with Darian.

Melissa had finally finished her art coursework. Adam offered to meet her in the art room as usual but she shook her head. ‘To be honest, I could do with a break from the smell of paint. Can we go for a walk?'

Adam hesitated. After an exhausting weekend trying to keep Luc out of trouble the last thing he wanted was a face-off with the Beast. Still, they couldn't hide in the art room forever. All he could do was nod and try and look enthusiastic. It was a cool, cloudy day, which at least gave him an excuse to put his arm round Melissa's shoulders. She snuggled in closer as they walked and for a moment Adam thought his heart might explode in his chest. The novelty of having a girlfriend hadn't worn off yet, especially someone as cool as Melissa.

Melissa seemed quieter than usual and it didn't take long to find out why. ‘So my mum got an appointment, at the hospital. She's going there next week.'

‘Oh, right,' Adam said. He wanted to say something encouraging but he couldn't forget the premonitions he'd had, back before half-term. He'd never had his doom sense flare for anyone, unless they were just about to die. He'd never even met Melissa's mum before but somehow he just
knew
she was the woman in his dreams. She looked like Melissa.

‘I'm going to go with her. My aunt couldn't get off work. There's no way I'm letting her go on her own.'

‘She'll be glad you're there,' Adam said quietly. He glanced sidelong at her. He didn't know where Melissa's dad was – she rarely mentioned him. He just knew that she was really close to her mum. What was it going to do to her if something was wrong? As in,
really
wrong?

‘She's a bit scared.' Melissa's voice was trembling a little. ‘She doesn't show it. Well, she tries not to but I know she's scared.'

‘She'll be fine.' He was lying. He was pretty sure she
wasn't
fine at all – but whatever was wrong with her, maybe it could be fixed. He hoped so. He couldn't bear seeing Melissa so sad. He tried to change the subject. ‘At least you won't miss the art show. Your mum will be really excited about that.'

It worked. Melissa brightened up and started talking about her artwork. Her voice was brittle with something between nerves and excitement. ‘Everyone is going to get out of class on Friday to see our pieces. It's not usually displayed at this time of year but Ms Havens has a friend from art college coming. She won't tell us who it is yet – but she has a gallery and she's going to display some of our work if she likes it. Ms Havens thinks I have a really good chance of getting something in. How amazing would that be?'

‘Pretty amazing,' Adam said, grinning at her. His grin faded slightly as they entered the main building. It was buzzing with people – and if he was feeling generous, ‘people' included the Beast and his friends.

Melissa seemed blissfully unaware that anything might be wrong. She waved at some of her friends and darted over to talk to them. The Beast had clocked Adam's presence and had fallen quiet, his group staring menacingly in Adam's direction. Adam took a surreptitious peek around the foyer, hoping to see a teacher, but there was no one useful on the scene. The problem was the Beast loved an audience. An opportunity like this would be almost irresistible. When you ruled with terror, a public act of vengeance was worth ten times more than a private one.

Adam tried not to look worried. He'd escaped from the Beast once before by disappearing into the Hinterland. It was totally forbidden but under the circumstances (dark alley and certain death as an alternative), Adam had decided that breaking Luman law was the lesser of two evils. Now, in the packed foyer, there was no prospect of escaping, short of turning tale and running. That probably wasn't going to impress Melissa much. But what was the alternative? Stay here and face a public beating?

Adam walked on, excruciatingly aware of the Beast's eyes on him. Weasel, the Beast's most loyal minion, was practically salivating with excitement. He was thin and spotty and vicious – and he was eyeing Adam with barely concealed glee. ‘Look at him, Michael! Look at that little prick. He came in with Melissa!'

There was a long silence. Adam slowed and turned to meet the Beast's gaze. Whatever was going to happen was going to happen. It was going to be public and horrible and humiliating, but he wasn't actually going to die, which was something to be thankful for. He might get a mouthful of Michael Bulber's fist but at least he wasn't dodging Morta's knife.

And then, just as he was bracing himself, the miracle happened. Michael Bulber sneered at Adam and said loudly, ‘Who cares, lads. Let him have her. Sloppy seconds. Why would I want
her
when I've got
this
waiting for me?' He held up his mobile phone for them to admire a photo – a photo Adam recognised immediately. ‘She's coming here soon and she's gagging for me. She's Italian. She's called Bellissima, Bella for short. Bellissima Pesce.'

Adam's eyes widened and he only just stopped himself from guffawing. Laughter would be fatal. His Italian was limited to a few phrases but if he'd heard correctly, Spike had called their mythical babe ‘Beautiful Fish.' He bit the inside of his lip and tried to look deeply jealous until he was safely past. Weasel's disappointed face was a picture. Spike was a genius. The Beast had bought the Wonderfish thing hook, line and sinker. He couldn't wait to tell his friends. Adam's thoughts were racing at a hundred miles an hour but that didn't matter. The Wonderfish had saved him.

A moment later Melissa hurried up to join him. ‘Sorry! I was talking to Ellen.' She glanced back over her shoulder at where Bulber was laughing and jostling with his friends. ‘What happened? Did he give you a hard time? What did he say?'

Adam gave her a beatific smile and threw his arm round her shoulders. ‘He didn't say anything. We won't have to worry about him for a while. He's got other fish to fry now.'

Adam was still on a high when he went to chemistry revision after school. As he looked round the lab he had the most surreal feeling. This time last week he had been on his way to meet Clotho in her realm – and narrowly dodging the Hunter and Morta. Now a week later his only imminent danger was dying of boredom. His life was always a juggling act but sometimes it was weird even by his standards.

A few more reluctant souls wandered in before the class started, and among them was Spike. Adam was surprised to see him but he nodded at the empty stool beside him. Spike slouched over and flung his laptop on the bench. He didn't normally bother with revision classes, so it was a surprise seeing him there. His memory was like a high-definition camera; he read things once and they got etched into his brain forever. Adam wished
his
memory was like that. It would have made it much easier getting through tests, especially when you couldn't revise because you were guiding souls in a war zone.

Spike hopped onto the stool and answered the question before it was asked. ‘It was either this or detention. At least here I can get on with some work. In detention they just make everyone copy out those worksheets about eight million times.'

‘They make
you
copy out the sheets because you've already filled them in before. You should have done more of the Batman breathing stuff.' Adam grinned. Spike was the smartest person he knew but he wasn't very good at doing what he was told. Adam could never decide whether Spike was going to rule the world or end up locked up in a prison cell with clear walls  … 

Spike grunted in reply and opened his laptop. He never looked particularly healthy but even by his standards he was looking corpse-like. His skin had a grey hue and the shadows under his eyes stretched halfway down his cheeks. He was studying the screen with a disgusted expression. ‘I spent all weekend working on my face recognition programme and I finally got it running overnight. It's trawling the web and getting hits but they were all really random in the tests I did with people I know. Sometimes it's the person I'm looking for. Sometimes it's a family member. Sometimes it's nobody.' He shook his head. ‘I need to refine it.'

Adam peered at the screen. The programme was searching busily through the billions of pictures on the internet, but Adam was pretty sure he was safe. He had always been careful to avoid school photos, and family photos were kept in leather-bound albums. The Luman world wasn't exactly up to date with technology but even the Concilium had realised that with new, digital cameras there was a danger in sharing photos online. Just occasionally a soul would leave its body – only to be returned to it after swift medical treatment. Most of the time the only thing the soul remembered was their Light and a warm, hazy sense that someone was there taking care of them. It wouldn't do for them to spot their guide leering out of an online photo site. Of course the one thing he couldn't control was police surveillance, like CCTV images. There were thousands of cameras all over London. Still, surely even Spike wouldn't start wading through that kind of footage?