The Society of Thirteen (18 page)

Chapter 53

The main door of St Clement's Catholic School for Waifs and Strays was kept locked and bolted at all times, keeping the orphans inside and everyone else out. As far as Mother Agnes was concerned, the large bolted door was essential to keep out the snakes of temptation that slithered through the city, but the locks yielded easily as Esther waved her hand, and she stepped inside. Tom used to joke that he would only ever come back when he was wealthy enough to buy the place. He would turn the nuns out into the street, make them strip and shave their heads, just as Mother Agnes had done to the orphans every time there was the threat of head lice. They had stood, shivering as the sleet came down on their frozen bodies, while they waited to have their heads shaved.

Esther was not back for revenge. She was there because she wanted the truth.

Walking down the corridor Esther could hear the chanting from the classroom. ‘
Two times two is four  …  three times two is six  …  four times two is eight  … '
She looked in at the rows of orphans, terrified of making a mistake or being caught miming, knowing that to do so would be to incur severe punishment.

A girl called Naomi spotted Esther at the window. A few years younger than Esther, she had always looked up to her. Esther recalled the time Naomi had claimed God was speaking to her at night. Esther had begged her not to tell anyone but word got out and, when it reached Mother Agnes, she had dragged Naomi in front of the school and explained that it was not the voice of God she was hearing. It was that of Satan.

This memory came back to Esther as Naomi spied her through the classroom window and waved excitedly. It wasn't long before the other orphans noticed. When Mother Agnes saw the class's attention slip she did not turn to see what they were looking at but instead charged across the room with her ruler raised. Esther quickly sent the ruler flying in the air, then clattering to the floor. Mother Agnes spun around in confusion and saw Esther step inside.

‘You are no longer welcome in this charitable institution!' said Mother Agnes accusingly. ‘After all I have done for you  … '

‘What did you do?' demanded Esther.

‘You are a child.' Mother Agnes spat the words. ‘You do not understand the sacrifices we make here for you. Daily sacrifices. Your very existence is testament to the Christian kindness of this charitable institution, without which you would be dead in the street.'

‘Yes, I am a miracle,' said Esther.

‘You insolent child –'

With the slightest of movements, Esther killed the words in her throat. ‘The beatings, the cruelties, the nights sent to bed hungry for no good reason,' she said. ‘This is what you did for me.'

‘We take those whose parents cannot care for them and bring them up as God would have us do,' said Mother Agnes.

‘Would God have you beat children?' said Esther. ‘Does God make you punish those whose only sin is to be hungry? No God I know would do that.'

‘No, I can see perfectly well that you have allowed another to be your master,' hissed Mother Agnes.

‘Not him, neither,' said Esther.

Mother Agnes picked up her ruler and raised her hand. ‘With these children as my witness I will beat the devil from you, child.' Mother Agnes swung the ruler, but Esther sent it into the nun's unsuspecting face. The sound of wood against skin echoed off the walls and the children stared in awe.

‘Behold, this child of Satan,' cried Mother Agnes, as her cheek reddened. ‘She wields his terrible power as he claws at her insides. This is what will happen to you if you sell your soul, as this poor wretch has done. Look upon the face of evil.'

‘Yes, look upon the face of evil,' repeated Esther.

‘I should have left you to die, along with your mother,' said the prioress.

‘What do you know about her?'

‘Only that I found you clinging to her dead body, child. I lifted you off her cold breast myself. I buried your mother in a pauper's grave and took you in.'

Esther didn't need to perform a spell to recognise this as the truth. ‘What else was there?'

‘Nothing else.'

‘Liar. There was a book.'

‘It was a long time ago,' replied Mother Agnes. ‘Orphans are left with all sorts of things, but their lives begin afresh here.'

‘What happened to it?'

‘Any items left with children are sold to help pay for their upbringing. Not that your book fetched much. It was as worthless as was your mother's life.'

‘It was mine,' said Esther firmly.

‘There is only one book you should concern yourself with. The Bible. It's a good thing your mother is dead. No mother would want to live to see her child dwell so readily with Lucifer.'

Esther would have sent the ruler flying into her old enemy's face again but she was scared that if she allowed herself to give in to this small temptation, she would not be able to stop. Instead, she placed her left hand on Mother Agnes's cheek, while moving the staff with her right hand. Mother Agnes was unable to move away. Her eyes were closed and yet she could not avoid seeing that which Esther had to show her. Esther projected the images in her mind. She showed her the truth she had learnt. She showed Mother Agnes that the world was not as she believed. It was so much deeper, stranger, darker and lighter. She felt the prioress try to look away as she forced her to witness the true nature of the universe. As Tom had destroyed his aunt's house, so Esther would do the same to Mother Agnes's mind. Piece by piece, she tore her faith to shreds. Mother Agnes tried to hide from the onslaught, but the further she ran into her mind, the more she revealed of herself and the quicker Esther could pollute her every thought with crippling doubt.

When Esther removed her hand, Mother Agnes opened her eyes and collapsed to the floor in tears. The orphans stared in wonder as the nun they feared more than any other clasped her hands together and muttered under her breath, ‘Forgive me  …  forgive me', as though in prayer. Only Esther knew that she was not praying. Prayer was no longer an option for Mother Agnes. Esther had robbed her of her faith.

Chapter 54

Clay led Hardy and his boys to a patch of wasteland where the only signs of life came from the boat-dwelling gypsies moored nearby. The sound of strumming guitars, hand clapping and laughter drifted through the cold night air.

‘What's out here?' asked Hardy.

‘Nothing,' replied Clay. ‘That's the point. No one can see us out here.'

‘I don't like being so near all them gypsies,' said Worms.

‘Nor me,' said Stump.

‘They won't bother us if we don't bother them,' said Clay. ‘Now, you'll need a stick.'

‘Why?' asked Brewer.

‘To act as your wand,' replied Clay.

‘Is he gonna turn us into toads or something?' said Worms, making Stump snigger.

‘Not a lot of turning required for that,' said Hardy. ‘Now, shut it.'

‘This is stupid,' grumbled Brewer.

‘You all saw what Esther did,' said Hardy. ‘I want to know how.'

‘What if I don't want to?' said Brewer.

Hardy grabbed him in a headlock and banged his head with his knuckles. ‘You do what I say when you're in my gang. You know that, Brewer.'

‘Here. What about this one?' said Clay, offering a branch he had found.

Brewer took it and snapped it on his knee. ‘It's rotten,' he said.

‘Try this.' Hardy held out the ruler he had taken from Mother Agnes.

‘
Quiet reflection
,' said Brewer, taking it gently in both hands.

‘Thought you might remember it,' said Hardy. ‘You must have felt it almost as many times as I did.'

‘So what now?' asked Brewer. He waved it in the air. Worms and Stump laughed loudly. Across the way, on the boats, the music stopped.

‘Quiet,' whispered Hardy. ‘You don't want to find yourselves in the middle of a gypsy brawl.'

The guitar started playing again.

‘Draw this shape on the ground.' Clay held up a piece of paper. ‘Draw it big enough for you to stand in the middle circle.'

Brewer looked at it doubtfully.

‘Come on, Brewer, draw the shape,' said Hardy.

Brewer took the piece of paper, stared at it then copied it out onto the ground with his stick.

‘Now, step into the centre,' said Clay.

‘What is this? Piggy in the middle?' asked Worms.

‘Do it, Brewer,' ordered Hardy.

As soon as Brewer stepped into the circle, to the others' surprise he began to shake as though he was experiencing some kind of fit.

‘What's happening?' demanded Hardy.

‘I don't know,' said Clay.

‘Brewer, what are you feeling?' asked Hardy.

Brewer stepped out of the circle and turned to face Hardy.

‘Brewer?' Hardy stepped back uncertainly.

Brewer gazed at the ruler in his hand, his eyes glowing strangely.

‘I feel  … ' He searched for the right word. ‘I feel  …  strong.'

‘We should get moving,' said Clay. The guitar had stopped again and the gypsies were shouting and moving towards them.

‘Good strong?' asked Hardy.

‘Good for
me
,' replied Brewer. He crouched down and moved the ruler in his right hand. He held his left up to Hardy's chest, throwing him onto his back.

‘Why you  … ' Hardy jumped up, but this time Brewer sent him flying over his head.

The gypsies were closing in, with flaming torches in their hands.

‘I think we should all get out of here,' said Clay.

‘Why?' asked Brewer.

He clenched his fist and the flames from the gypsies' torches shot into the air. The fire formed monstrous faces with a snake-like body that swung down to earth. Hardy tried to run, but Brewer clicked his fingers and brought him tumbling down again, manipulating him like a puppet. The gypsies had dropped their torches and were running scared, but the fire-creature moved in on Hardy.

‘Come on, Brewer, we're friends, ain't we?' he shouted, desperately trying to escape the flaming beast that was crawling towards him.

‘It was always going to come to this,' said Brewer.

‘Come on, Brewer, we've all had a good laugh,' said Worms.

‘Yeah, leave him alone now,' added Stump.

‘He deserves this,' snarled Brewer, and he slammed his ruler on the ground. The fire-beast opened its mouth wide and pounced on Hardy. The others looked away as the flames devoured him until his desperate screams were silenced.

Brewer lowered his hand.

‘We need to leave now,' said Clay, urgently.

‘You're right,' said Brewer. ‘There's nothing left here I care about.'

They turned and fled, leaving behind them the burnt cinders of Hardy's dead body.

Chapter 55

Ever since being stuck inside these birds' bodies Mondriat had hated waking up. In his dreams he was still a powerful, handsome Conjuror, rather than a rotten old magpie. This time, when he awoke he opened his eyes to find a huge, black, feline face looming over him.

‘Olwyn,' he said, groggily. ‘Don't do that! You want me to die of terror?'

‘Of terror? Of course not,' she replied. ‘Dreaming of me, were you, Mondriat?'

‘Always.'

‘I understand you have directed the boy back into Ringmore's hands. Why? What are you up to, Mondriat?'

‘Tom needed an ally. He needed someone able to give him what he wants.'

Olwyn licked a paw and used it to clean her face. ‘And what does the Lord want in return?' she asked.

‘Ah, yes, well. Interesting you should ask that. He's rather got his sights set on immortality.' Mondriat chuckled.

‘How do you expect to deliver that?'

‘Oh you know, I thought Tom could come up with something that makes him feel immortal. After all, one doesn't really know that one isn't immortal until it's too late, does one?'

Olwyn prowled forward and Mondriat stepped back nervously. ‘How would you feel if I could tell you that it is possible?' Olwyn's green eyes twinkled playfully.

‘What do you mean?' Mondriat asked warily.

‘Ringmore wants immortality. He's gone to the boy for answers but he already has the solution in his possession.'

‘He does?' Mondriat was struggling to keep up.

‘Haven't you worked it out yet?' Olwyn sighed.

‘The book. You're talking about the book?' said Mondriat.

‘Yes, the book,' she said patiently. ‘You asked me what it was for. The truth is I wrote it in order to discover the Eternity Spell.'

‘By writing a book?'

‘For you, Conjury was instinctive. For me, it was an exact science. Through writing down every spell and every potion, I was able to study how each shape affected the power it drew. Slowly, methodically, I searched for the answer.'

Mondriat twitched his tail excitedly. ‘Are you saying you worked it out?'

The cat nodded. ‘Yes. The final spell in the book is the Eternity Spell.'

‘But that's  …  that's remarkable. Why did you never tell me?'

‘You were too busy robbing mirrors and, besides, I never trusted you.'

Mondriat wished he could read something in Olwyn's feline expression. Affection, bitterness; anything. But it was impossible. ‘Why are you telling me now?' he asked.

‘I had hoped the girl might perform the spell but now you have the boy and the book, it makes sense that he should draw the spell.'

‘Yes, but why involve me after all this time?'

‘Mondriat,' purred the cat, ‘if the boy performs the Eternity Spell, he can bring us both back.'

‘Back?'

Olwyn moved closer to Mondriat so that he could feel her breath on his face. ‘Finally, my love,' she whispered in his ear. ‘Finally, we can return to human form.'

‘Is it possible?'

‘Yes. Imagine it, Mondriat. You and I, human once again. Conjuror and Conjuress again.'

Mondriat felt his magpie heart speed up to such an extent that it reminded him it really was about time he found a new body, but if this was all true then that new body would be his own, human self.

‘Oh Olwyn, you wondrous woman,' he proclaimed. He wanted to kiss her but realised that it would be as impractical as it was inadvisable. Instead he hopped up and down and flapped his wings. ‘This is marvellous  …  marvellous,' he said. Then a thought struck him. ‘But if you succeeded in finding the Eternity Spell back then, how did you end up like this?'

‘There were complications,' she replied. ‘But this time we will get it right. Now, let me explain what your boy needs to do.'