The Road to Bedlam: Courts of the Feyre, Book 2 (35 page)

    I found myself hoping that she would sleep better from now on, now that she had been able to share her burden.

    I left the cul-de-sac and turned away from Katherine's house, heading for the Tube station. I set a strong pace, knowing that the walk would take me half an hour and that if I lingered I would miss the last tube and end up waiting for a night bus.

    The walk gave me chance to think. If Kayleigh was right and Alex had drowned the other girls, then it would make sense that the authorities had acted to take her out of circulation. She was a danger to others, but where would be safe? Blackbird had once told me that there were places for people like Alex, who couldn't control their gifts. She'd never said where any of them were, though. I made a mental note to ask her later.

    The reality was that my daughter had killed three girls, however unintentionally. Garvin had said that was likely and Kayleigh's story confirmed it. They had tried to hurt her and she had drowned them in sewage. I thought I should feel bad about that, but my honest reaction was that they deserved it. They had been intent on hurting her when they should have left her alone. It was harsh, and sad that they had been caught up in it, but they weren't my daughters.

    I was beginning to understand why they had taken her, though. If she couldn't control her gifts then she was dangerous. They would act to protect other people and to prevent her harming herself. That didn't mean that I would leave her there, though. I was her father and I had got her into this mess. If anyone could look after her, it was me.

    I found the Tube station in time to get a ride into central London. The long ride lulled me, but I had too much still to do to allow myself to sleep. I used the Tube to get into the West End and then used one of the Warders' houses as a gateway to the Way. Using Raffmir's slingshot technique I was back in Yorkshire within two hours of meeting Kayleigh. When I stumbled out of the Way-node, it had mercifully stopped raining. The ground was sodden, and the grass squelched as I tramped down the bank into town.

    The lights were on in the church as I passed, but I ignored that and went straight down to the guest house. I still had my key, so I let myself in.

    "You're very late again, Mr Dobson." Martha was in the kitchen with the door open, sewing.

    "And it's late to be still sewing. It's bad for your eyes, you know."

    "I'm just doing some buttons, then I'll be retiring. You look like you should do the same, Mr Dobson."

    "I won't be up long, I assure you."

    "I'll wish you good night then."

    "Good night."

    I took the stairs up to my room and locked the door behind me, stowed my gear and sword and hung up my jacket. Then I sat on the end of the bed and collapsed backwards. What with the cumulative effect of the Ways, lack of sleep and a long, long day, I fought to keep my eyes open. I sat up. I needed a shower before bed anyway, so it was pointless getting comfortable.

    I stood in front of the chest and rested my hand on the face of the mirror.

    "Garvin?"

    The mirror misted gently and there was a muted thumping sound.

    "Niall, you're late. I was about to send out a search party." There was humour in his tone. He was obviously in a better mood than last time.

    "How are things at Court?"

    "They are progressing. Fellstamp is recovering from that scratch you gave him and between us we have been able to keep track of Altair. He hasn't brought anymore over, so we are coping. Have you seen anything of Raffmir?"

    It was pointless lying to him as he would hear it immediately. "He came to the café. We talked. He said that you'd sent me here to keep me away from the negotiations."

    "He's right. I did."

    "He said it was because the High Court were negotiating for the fate of the half-breeds. He said you were keeping me away from it so I wouldn't prejudice the negotiations."

    "He's right about that too. If you cause an incident, the High Court might be less able to defend their position on the half-breeds. It would look as if you were undermining them."

    "I don't think that's what he meant."

    "I know exactly what he meant. He means to sow discord among us. You need to stay tight and not let him get under your skin."

    "He's already under my skin. I just want to tell him to get lost."

    "As long as he's with you, he's not somewhere else, Niall. Speaking of which, we've lost Blackbird again."

    "What do you mean lost?"

    "As in: we don't know where she is. She's hard to protect if we can't find her."

    "She's hard to hurt if Deefnir can't find her."

    "As long as they don't know where she is either, that's true. If they've followed her, then that could be trouble."

    "I don't know where she went either, if that's what you're asking."

    "Would you tell me if you found out?"

    "That would depend on her. I think I'd let her make that choice. It's her life."

    "That's a dangerous game, Niall."

    "They're all dangerous games until the Untainted take themselves back home and leave us in peace."

    "True. Talk to her, please. Try and persuade her to come back in."

    "I'll pass on your request, Garvin. She'll make her own mind up, you know that."

    "So I do. Very well."

    "Anything else to report?"

    This was the moment. I should tell Garvin about Raffmir's secret conversations. I should explain about the ability to make small jumps using magic. I should tell him Raffmir knew where my daughter was. But if I did, Raffmir said she would die. He had been straight about that, at least.

    "No, there's nothing else I want to tell you."

    "How are the missing girls?"

    "Some of them, fine. The others are still missing though, as in missing from the records. They don't appear as missing women anywhere in the archives, as far as I can tell. There's no local knowledge of lost women. I have thirty or forty skulls and no owners. I'll have to go to the Records Office at Northallerton to confirm it, but that's the story here. If there were a string of murders, even over a timescale of hundreds of years, there would be something. Instead, it's a blank wall."

    "So what's your conclusion?"

    "I don't have a conclusion yet. I'm following the evidence."

    "Good. Let me know when you get somewhere."

    "I will."

    "And get some sleep. You sound like death warmed up."

    "I'm just tired. Long day."

    "Report tomorrow evening, earlier than this, if you can?"

    "Will do."

    "Sleep well, Niall."

    "I'll try." That came out ringing with untruth, but Garvin said nothing and I took my hand from the mirror.

    The night wasn't over yet.

SEVENTEEN

Having spoken to Garvin, I could try Blackbird. I placed my hand back on the mirror.

    "Blackbird?"

    It misted under my hand.

    "Blackbird, are you there?"

    A strange whistling sound came from the mirror, followed by a buzz and crackle that made it sound like a badly tuned old-fashioned radio set. The buzz grew into a whine until the mirror vibrated with it and I was forced to remove my hand or risk the mirror. The condensation on the surface slowly contracted around my vacant handprint until it vanished. Wherever she had gone, it was secure against eavesdropping, by me or anyone else. Was that good news or bad? I tried to look on the positive side. If I couldn't find her, then maybe Deefnir wouldn't be able to either.

    I had exhausted my enquiries, though I would dearly like to have talked to Blackbird before I slept. I suspected that I would find myself dreaming of the glade again. This time I was going to have to deal with it properly. If I didn't, I was never going to have a restful night's sleep again.

    With a sense of mounting trepidation, I showered and prepared for bed. It felt more like girding my loins than readying myself for sleep. I slid in under the covers and lay in the near dark. I was so tired that my eyes felt gritty and heavy, but sleep would not come. Part of me knew what would happen when it did, and so I rolled on one side and then the other, delaying the moment.

    I thought about all the things I'd learned: about the boats and the harbour, the men who never made it back to port, the way the town was changing, the feeble attempt to become a tourist resort with a disorganised museum and an unsuitable café. I puzzled about Raffmir and the reason for his unsolicited generosity. I questioned whether Garvin's reasons for keeping me away from the courts were really as straightforward as they appeared, and I wondered whether Kayleigh was sleeping any easier.

    There must have been a moment when I wasn't thinking about any of these before I found myself on the path in the forest, but if there was, I do not remember it.

The transition was seamless. It was as if I was expected. I was clothed again, in fine black silk. My fingers were adorned with silver rings and an intricate silver clasp belted my waist. My feet were bare, and I could feel the crush and prickle of the pine needles beneath me. The air was heavy with resin, though frosty cold. Undisturbed in the dry, freezing air, the pine scent clung to my clothes and swirled around me as I moved slowly forward.

    Looking behind me, I saw that the path vanished into pine-boughs where the rough trunks pressed together. The only sound was the brush of the soft needles against my arms and the prickling tread of my feet.

    The clearing was unoccupied yet the sense of expectation, of invitation, was palpable. There was no doubt in my mind that I was recognised and welcome here. It made what I was about to do feel like treachery. I walked forward, knowing without looking that where the path had been there would be only snags and thorns.

    "You've brought me here again." The emptiness ate my words. There was no echo, no reverberation. It was soft and smothering, like an unwanted aunt's embrace. "I can't keep coming here. You can't make me. You'll have to find some other way."

    The temperature fell, deepening the chill.

    "You again?"

    I recognised Debbie's voice immediately. When I turned she was behind me, naked.

    "Stay away from me." She hugged her arms around her, hiding her breasts. "I know about your sort. You're crazy. You need help."

    I turned my back and ignored her. "Send her back. I will not touch her."

    "You're completely barking. Mental, that's what you are."

    Even as she spoke, her voice faded. I was alone again.

    Then a new voice. "I must be asleep."

    I turned, recognising the tone, the memory of an insistent cry and a weary voice roused from sleep, giving me a name.

    "Helen?"

    "Do I know you?"

    She held the baby in the crook of her arm as it nuzzled into her armpit, making little whimpers. The naked child was cold in the exposed air, though Helen herself was dressed in a cotton shift. She had a practical, straightforward look to her that I had not seen in the photo. She gathered the baby to her and looked about, a sense of growing panic in her eyes. She was searching for somewhere to run, and there was nowhere.

    "What is this?"

    I didn't answer her. Instead I spoke to the pinpricked sky. "You can send her back too. I will not touch her, or the babe."

    "Who are you talking to?" she asked. "There's no one there."

    The babe began to mewl as the cold seeped into them both.

    "Send them back, now. I do not want them here."

    "I said, there's no one there." She was starting to sound angry.

    I stripped off the silk shirt, undoing the buttons and then pulling it over my head.

    "What are you doing?" Her voice held the edge of panic.

    I approached her slowly, offering the black cloth bundle. "Here, wrap the babe in this."

    She took it from me, hesitantly, understanding dawning on her face. As she lifted the child on to her shoulder it started to wail, but then quieted as she wrapped the shirt around it and cuddled it close, using her warmth for comfort.

    "Thanks," she murmured, but the disquiet was still in her eyes.

    "I have a message for you."

    "For me? How? I mean… do you?"

    "And a question."

    She shook her head. "This is strange…"

    "Let me get this right. The message is that there's a young man who's desperate to hear from you and wants to do the right thing, not just because it's the right thing to do. He's waiting for you."

    "How do you know this?" Hope had lifted her voice.

    "And Greg, the vicar, would like to know whether it's a boy or a girl, though I think I already know the answer to that question."

    She smiled for the first time. "He's called…"

    "Shhhh! Do not name him here. He's too young and far too vulnerable." I turned to the glade. "Let her go now. She has what she came for. Release her."

    "Release me from what?"

    I ignored her. "Let them go."

    "It's only a dream," she said. "It'll finish when I wake up."

    "Release them. You'll get nothing else from me."

    When I looked back, they'd gone.

    "It doesn't matter who you bring. I'm not feeding from them and neither are you. Now send me back."

    The only answer was the deepening silence.

    "You can't force me to stay. Send me back where I came from."

    A new voice. "Where
did
you come from? Kent, wasn't it?"

    The voice from behind me startled me, partly because it was male. I turned and found a man, dressed in shirt, tie and trousers, watching me.