Arthur Quinn and Hell's Keeper (7 page)

There was a mass intake of breath in the cramped cabin, all eyes flitting between Arthur and Fenrir. The words hung in the air for a moment between them all, the awful realisation of Hel's true identity.

‘But … how?' Ellie eventually asked the question on everyone's minds. ‘Arthur's mother is …'

‘Dead,' Arthur murmured.

Fenrir looked at Ellie then back at Arthur, whose face had turned a pallid colour.

‘Sit down, boy,' he advised. ‘You've had quite a shock.'

‘Just answer her,' said Arthur, sitting on the edge of the bed. Fenrir's suggestion had been spot-on: his legs had felt like they were going to collapse under him.

‘I only realised the truth seconds ago myself,' said the man. ‘To understand for yourself, you need to know how I trapped the evil part of her – the Hel part. That's the key to everything.'

‘Get to the point!' Arthur wasn't feeling very courteous right now.

‘OK. When I saw that she was waking up, I knew that the evil part of her would take over. I knew she wouldn't have a chance of a normal life. I couldn't take the evil out of her; Loki had put it there to begin with and the magic was too strong. But I could trap it, bind it. I just needed something to hold Hel in place. And I had just the thing – Gleipnir. The magical ribbon the gods had used to bind me, the ribbon that was never supposed to break. I still had it after all those years. It was said that it could bind anything, so I harnessed that power and tied it around Rhona's wrist. I couldn't work out how to bind the ends together like Odin had done, so I used a simple knot, but it seemed to be enough. The magic in the ribbon meant that it shrank to fit perfectly. And, though she never fully understood why, I warned her never to take it off. She forgot about me but remembered my last words to her. I think deep down she knew there was something about her that was different, but she sensed it was not a part she wanted to unleash. Except that you took it off her wrist, didn't you, Arthur? That's how I worked it out just now – when I saw the ribbon on your wrist. To protect her identity, I tried to forget Rhona too, but I always hoped she'd have a normal life, a family. And you'd be just the right age.'

The boy looked down at the ribbon around his own wrist. He remembered the day his mother had died and how he'd untied the golden piece of silk from her arm. Something to remember her by. Tears welled up in his good eye as he stroked the fabric.

‘She was my mum and she died,' he said in a low voice, not daring to look up. ‘It was a year ago. And I took the ribbon. I didn't know.'

‘Of course you didn't know.' Fenrir was on his feet now, moving next to Arthur. He laid a heavy hand on the boy's shoulder. ‘But I don't think she died, Arthur.'

‘She did! She started getting weaker and weaker. For no reason. She only survived a fortnight.'

‘No, Arthur, she didn't.' Fenrir sat down next to him. ‘If what you're saying is true – if she just suddenly faded away a year ago – then I'm certain she didn't die.'

‘But–'

‘The evil part of your mother – Hel – could probably sense Loki's growing power in Dublin. She must have realised that the god would soon be free. But she knew that Rhona would never take off the ribbon, leaving her trapped and helpless to reach Loki. So she needed to get someone else to take it off. Hel knew this would never happen while Rhona was alive – Rhona wouldn't allow it. So Hel did the only thing she could think of: she made Rhona think she was dying. Whatever she did, it convinced everyone around her that Rhona was seriously ill and that she died. It was a long shot – her only shot, really – but Hel's plan worked. When she was gone, you took off the ribbon, setting Hel free. But you couldn't have known what this would do.'

Arthur thought of his mother's grave back home in Farranfore. He thought of the gravestone with the little framed picture. ‘We buried her, though. How could she survive underground?'

‘She's half god. Loki survived a thousand years underground; Hel can definitely survive a few years.'

‘If she's so powerful, then why hasn't she freed herself from the grave?' Ash pointed out. ‘Just wipe the coffin and earth from existence? Or why allow herself to be buried in the first place?'

‘Quite simply, she isn't powerful enough. She's been asleep for so long she needs Loki's presence to restore her fully. It was the same with the Jormungand. Even I felt stronger when Loki turned up.'

‘I don't understand,' Arthur said, suddenly loud. ‘Who's alive? My mother or Hel?'

‘Both. Two personalities are trapped in the one body, like two sides of the same coin: that of the original child, human and good, and that created by Loki, godly and evil. Rhona had been in charge for twenty years. But with the ribbon removed, right now Hel is ruling the coin. She's much stronger than Rhona and as soon as Loki releases her she will suppress your mother's personality and be completely in charge.'

Arthur looked deep into Fenrir's gold-coloured eyes. ‘You have to help us,' he pleaded.

The wolf-man got up, shaking his head, and walked away. ‘I can't,' he said. ‘I won't face him again. I just need to get away.'

‘Get away to where?' piped up Ellie. ‘If Loki wins, there'll be nowhere to hide.'

Fenrir looked at her with sad eyes.

‘I don't care,' he said. ‘I've lived long enough. There's no point in fighting a hopeless battle. I just want to spend my remaining days in peace.'

‘But–'

‘You have no idea the unimaginable pain he can inflict on me. I won't do it. Besides, there is nothing I can do against Hel. Only Arthur has a chance of stopping her.' He turned to the boy. ‘The only way that I know of to defeat her is if Rhona can regain control of the body. And you're the only one who might be able to get through to Rhona, to give her the strength to do this.' He stood in the doorway, shoulders hunched stubbornly. ‘But you need to go now. Loki and Drysi are probably already on their way to find Hel. They tricked me into telling them who she is.'

No one spoke on the way back to the car. They'd left Fenrir on his boat, realising that he'd told them all he could. Despite final pleas from Ash and Ellie, he had refused to change his mind about helping them. So, reluctantly, they left.

As they walked back to the Beetle, Ellie said quietly, ‘It's up to us.'

Silent nods between the rest of them indicated they were all in agreement. Only Arthur didn't nod. Now they knew where Hel was, they had to assume that Loki was headed there too. They just had to reach her before he did. No discussion was required; they all knew what had to be done, even if they didn't know how to do it. Ex turned on the ignition and they set off once more.

When they were nearly out of the city and Ex had to figure out which motorway to head for, he broke the silence.

‘Where is your home exactly, Arthur?'

‘Farranfore, Kerry,' he replied monotonously from the backseat. ‘But there's no point in going. Loki will get there before us. We've lost.'

‘We haven't lost,' said Ash, trying to sound more cheerful than she felt and break through the wall of despair that seemed to have enclosed Arthur since he had learned the truth. ‘Not yet. We can still reach there first.'

‘No, we can't,' he said, turning to look out the window. ‘We haven't a chance.'

He watched the city speed past, blurring into rolling green countryside. There was so much to take in from what Fenrir had said that his mind was as confused as the view through the window, shooting from one rapid thought to another. My mum was dead. My mum is not dead. My mum is a half god called Hel. My mum is a stolen baby called Rhona. Fenrir won't help. Loki has won. Loki can't win. Loki must be stopped. But we can't stop him. We'll never stop him. There's no one who can help us now. There's no one who'll believe us. Loki will win. Loki's my … in a weird way, Loki's my grandfather.

Arthur had never known anything about his mother's parents. All through his childhood he'd often visited his grandparents on Joe's side of the family – and still did. But Rhona's extended family had been a constant mystery. He and Joe knew that Rhona always became uncomfortable when they broached the subject and so they never really talked about it. When Arthur had asked his dad about them, Joe had explained that there hadn't even been any of her relations at their wedding. Any time Joe had ever pushed her about her family, she had just simply shut down, staring into the middle distance with glassy eyes. She didn't want to talk about it – that much was clear – and Joe, assuming that she'd had a traumatic childhood, eventually stopped asking. Now Arthur knew why she'd been so reticent. She would hardly have wanted to admit that she couldn't remember her family at all, or maybe a part of her mind was simply trained not to think of them.

The light in the sky was dimming, turning a gradient of oranges and reds. He looked down at the ribbon around his right wrist. Fenrir had called it ‘Gleipnir'. A creation of great power and dark magic, designed never to be destroyed or broken. The one thing that had kept Hel at bay all those years, the one thing that could hold the Fenris Wolf, the one thing that had done damage to Hel before. For the past year, he'd worn it around his own wrist, not realising what a great gift it was. Could it help her again, he wondered, touching the soft silk.

‘How are you feeling?' Ash, who was sitting beside him, asked softly. Ellie was squeezed at the far side of her, staring at a GPS map on her iPad, while Eirik was in the front with Ex, gazing with wonder at the vehicles speeding along the motorway.

‘I won't lie. I've been better,' said Arthur.

She reached over and took his hand away from the ribbon, intertwining her fingers through his to give it a reassuring squeeze. She held onto his hand as she spoke.

‘I don't know what to say, Arthur.'

‘You don't have to say anything.'

‘But I want to.' A single tear rolled down her cheek as she looked at him. She wanted to say something to comfort him, to put his mind at ease. She'd like to tell him that she was sure they'd stop Loki or that his mother would overpower the Hel part of her. She desperately wanted to whisper to him that, no matter what happened tonight, she'd be there for him because she cared for him. A lot. But none of the words would come. Instead, she told him a story.

‘Before I started school,' she began, speaking in a low voice so that none of the others would hear her, ‘we lived next door to this girl called Clare Pond. Clare was my age and we were best friends from the time we could walk. Anyway, Clare's dad was a teacher in some posh private school so when we were old enough, she went there and I went to Belmont. After that, Clare didn't talk to me any more, especially when she was with her new friends. I could hear them laughing at me when they thought I couldn't. I was hurt and surprised and didn't understand what I'd done wrong.'

She stopped, suddenly caught up with emotion and surprised that the story still had such an effect on her.

‘Sorry,' she said. ‘I've never told this story to anyone before. Anyway, about a year after that, Clare moved away. Then I ran into her out of the blue last summer in town. She seemed really pleased to see me and even said sorry for how she'd been before. She regretted it, she said.' Ash looked at Arthur's confused expression. ‘I don't really know why I'm telling you this. I guess what I'm trying to say – probably not very well – is that there are two sides to most people. And, eventually, most of them make the right choice. I'm sure your mom will too.'

‘Thanks, Ash,' Arthur replied, squeezing her hand back. ‘I just keep thinking about when I was young and how amazing my mum was, like there wasn't a bad bone in her body. When I was about six, I fell off my bike at my house. I grazed my knee. It wasn't that bad but at the time I thought it was. I just kept screaming for my mammy. She ran out. And she started crying herself when she saw how upset I was. She picked me up, held me close and carried me inside. Then she cleaned my knee, put a Band Aid on it and wrapped me up in a big hug.'