Icefall Page 2

  This was not how I’d planned my life or my evening. I’d have liked to run, but there didn’t seem any point.

  ‘Shush,’ soothed the woman again, and drew back her blade on a line with my neck.

  At the furthest point of her lazy backswing, she hesitated, and frowned, and glanced down.

  My breathing was high-pitched, and my whole body was shaking, but I looked too. A sharp point of steel had appeared between the woman’s ribs, just to the left of her sternum, and as she growled in astonishment, a sinewy arm went round her neck and jolted her backwards. The blade tip poked further out of her chest; I watched it, mesmerised.

  Her shock had turned to rage, too late. As she tried to turn, the silver light in her eyes faded. She dropped to her knees, her sword scraped and then clanged on the pavement. With a last irritated look at me, she pitched forward onto her face and died.

  The man who stood over the corpse tugged at his sword. It wouldn’t come loose, and he had to put his foot on the woman’s back and jerk it hard out of her ribs. It came out with a horrible sucking thwick that made me want to be sick. Nothing altruistic. I was thinking it would have made the same noise coming out of me.

  My saviour raised an eyebrow.

  ~ That’ll teach her to keep an open mind.

  Someone was breathing hard and very fast. It wasn’t the newcomer, the man with the neat goatee, the unruly black hair and the brutal facial scars. Presumably it wasn’t the dead tart. Must be me, then.

  Taking a deep breath, I smiled.

  ‘Sionnach,’ I said. ‘Have you got nothing better to do than be my bodyguard?’

  He shrugged, glanced down at the corpse. ~ No.

  He frowned again.

  ~ You okay?

  No, I’m about to fall over and I think I want to cry. ‘I’m fine. Fine.’ I let out a shuddering breath.

  ‘You shouldn’t walk home alone,’ he said aloud. ‘Where’s Rory?’

  ‘In the library. He’s still got loads of catching up to do.’

  ‘Well, we need him. Call him.’

  Seeing as I’d been dying to, I did what I was told. Of course, Sionnach didn’t give me time to catch my breath or rearrange my hair. When the love of my life appeared, running to my rescue, I was grunting and sweating from the effort of helping drag a corpse into a handy doorway. Sionnach let go of the woman’s limp arm and straightened, eyeing Rory accusingly as he skidded to a halt.

  ‘Sionnach.’ He was out of breath.

  Sionnach shook his head. ‘Hannah was alone. Not again, hear?’

  ‘No. Right. I know. God, Hannah, I’m sorry.’

  I pushed a damp rat-tail of hair behind my ear and smiled, trying to look cool, so glad to see him the fear of death was already slipping off me like snakeskin. I liked that tight knot of love in my gut. It let me know I was still a human being, and being hunted down in an alleyway wasn’t all there was to it.

  Rory’s face split in a grin. It was pretty funny that he still got bossed around by Sionnach, now that he was an inch taller than him. Tall, feral, and full of mischief: an overgrown Lost Boy. His bright hair had darkened in the last couple of years, his face had grown thinner and harder, and his grey eyes had the shadowy glint of his father’s. But he still had the elfish beauty I’d fallen for on the most chaotic day of my life. Best of all, he still loved me. I hoped he always would. My Rory Bhan. My one-time lover. My cousin.

  Sionnach coughed. ‘When you’re quite ready.’

  Rory looked abruptly away, and I forced a pout to stop myself laughing too. I liked to hear Sionnach being sarcastic. There hadn’t been much of the old Sionnach in the last three years. Not since he lost the other half of himself, not since Alasdair Kilrevin put a sword blade through his twin.

  He went still, raising his head. ‘Someone’s coming. Do it now.’

  Shocked, Rory said, ‘What?’

  ~ Do it.

  Obediently Rory reached for thin air and the fragile thing that was hidden in it. Sionnach’s nerves were contagious. My own heart, which I reckoned had stopped five minutes ago when it got stuck in my throat, crashed back into my chest and into overdrive. Delayed shock, maybe, but it made my head spin. The fear was becoming panic, because I knew Sionnach was right—he always was—but Rory was struggling with the Veil. Beyond the defences of a Sithe fortress, that was unheard of.

  ‘Rory. What’s wrong?’

  Rory’s fingertips scrabbled, like he was trying to grab glass. He swore. I could feel his panic growing.

  ‘I thought it was thinning,’ I hissed.

  ‘It is. It was!’

  ‘Come on. Veil or no Veil, somebody’s going to notice a corpse.’

  ‘Yeah, no kidding.’

  Sionnach said nothing, only stared into the shadows.

  This was stupid. It was meant to be withering, but the Veil had picked a fine time to get its strength back. Rory was getting no grip on it at all. For an instant he looked completely bewildered, but he clenched his fists, and his face darkened.

  He had that cold look of his father’s now. Flattening his fingers he thrust them forward like a blade, snatching hold of something I couldn’t see.

  Sionnach took a step towards the alleyway. ~ Whoever it is, they’re close.

  With a growl, Rory hauled on his handful of Veil, and it began to give: like tearing oilcloth. He put his other hand to the rip, dragged it remorselessly wider. The sinews stood out on his wrist with the effort.

  He grunted as the gash widened at last. Let go, and stood up. He froze.

  Then he stumbled back, and would have fallen on his backside if he hadn’t crashed into me.

  ‘Rory…’ I began.

  A tremor ran through his skin, and he’d gone very cold. I looked up and past him, towards the tear in the Veil. Something oozed from the gash, all chill and black fear. Instinctively I shuffled backwards away from it, dragging Rory.

  For a moment he let himself be tugged away, then his muscles hardened and he wriggled out of my grip. On all fours he crawled back towards the hole, then clambered to his feet and seized the Veil’s torn edges in both hands. Even Sionnach was staring at Rory now, the intruder forgotten.

  ‘What’s that?’ he said. There was fear in his hoarse voice.

  Rory couldn’t spare him an answer. The gap in the Veil couldn’t be more than a metre long, but I could just make out its distorted shadow where the weak sunlight caught it. It sagged inwards, bulging, like it was going to rip further.

  I’d never felt anything like it, not in all the many times it had given way to Rory. It always obeyed him, but now I had a feeling the Veil had rebelled for the first time. You’d almost think that at its heart, caught in the membrane, there was a trapped darkness that wanted out.

  I’d never been afraid of the Veil between the worlds, never. Even the first time Rory tore it for me, four summers ago that felt like decades, I’d been only gobsmacked, and mistrustful, and rationally angry. I’d never felt this lump of fear in my belly. Whatever the darkness was, it didn’t fascinate me. I only wanted it gone, but I was terribly afraid it wouldn’t go. The gap yawed, sagged further, stretched like a living thing.

  We’d taken it by surprise. The Veil, I mean. The thought struck me, unexpected and bizarre. We’d woken something that hadn’t expected to wake; it had been disturbed unawares, but it wasn’t ready to explode from its restraining membrane.

  And just as well, was my instinctive thought.

  Rory dragged the edges together and stood rigid, clutching the gap shut. I couldn’t so much see that it was closed as sense it, because the strange coldness was gone like a sigh.

  It seemed an age before Rory loosened his fingers and stepped back.

  I took a breath to say And what are we going to do with the dead tart now, but I never got the chance. Rory reached out, almost thoughtlessly, and tore the Veil again.

  It ripped like gossamer. He used a light forefinger and he didn’t even have to take a breath.

  I gaped at
him, but Sionnach wasn’t struck dumb. He grabbed the dead woman’s arm and hauled her to the new rip in the Veil, bundling and shoving her through. Getting a hold of myself, I helped him, pushing the woman’s dangling foot through the gap as Sionnach threw her sword after her. With no fuss at all, Rory clasped the Veil’s edges and sealed it, and she was gone.

  * * *

  The three of us were panting for breath, staring at the space she’d filled, when the air was shattered by a tinny blast of unidentifiable R&B.

  Sionnach turned. The music died abruptly; a phone clattered to the paving stones. As we gaped, a manicured hand shot round the corner to grab for it.

  Nonchalantly Sionnach took a pace closer and trod hard on the hand. There was a yelp of angry pain as he bent to pick up the phone, turning it in his hand, thumbing the touchscreen with interest.

  ‘Come out,’ he said. ‘Lauren.’ He tilted an eyebrow at me.

  ‘Aw, hell,’ muttered Rory. I swore more creatively.

  She stumbled to her feet, clutching her bruised hand, glaring at all three of us. Not a muscle of Sionnach’s face moved now, and I thought: Uh-oh. When his hand went to the hilt of the short sword hidden inside his leather jacket, Rory put a hand on the man’s arm. Sionnach scowled.

  I forced a smile. ‘Hi, Lauren.’

  Rory’s breath sighed out of him. ‘Sionnach, watch where you’re putting your feet. Y’okay, Lauren?’

  ‘Fine,’ she spat.

  ‘What did you just see, Lauren?’ asked Sionnach.

  ‘Nothing. Like I’d be interested. I wasn’t even looking.’

  ‘Really?’

  ‘You broke my best nail.’ She folded her arms aggressively. ‘Although that’s nothing compared to you dragging that wom—’

  This time Rory had to shove in front of Sionnach, seize his jacket, and pull it back across the emerging blade. He gave Lauren a tight smile. ‘The drunk one?’

  ‘The—’

  ‘Drunk one,’ I said.

  ‘She didn’t look drunk to—’

  Sidestepping Rory, Sionnach offered Lauren her phone back, his lips tightening in an almost-smile. The girl just stood there, glowering nervously.

  Sionnach’s unconvincing smirk stayed in place as he thrust the phone forward again. I knew he was still wondering if he ought to kill Lauren, so this time I shouldered him sideways. Now Rory and I together were blocking him quite efficiently, but I knew the man could snake past us fast enough if he felt like it.

  ‘In the middle of the afternoon and all,’ said Rory. ‘Dead. Drunk.’

  Lauren eyed us, mistrust fairly oozing out of her. ‘Where did she go?’

  ‘I dunno.’ Rory shrugged and pointed hopefully at the grubby stained-glass window of the nearest pub. ‘In there? Gosh, I hope she doesn’t come back!’

  Oh, very convincing. Not. I gave Lauren my sweetest smile. ‘I’m sure she won’t be back.’

  I knew fine Lauren wasn’t even half-convinced, but Sionnach hadn’t taken his eyes off her. Working on the girl’s brain, just like Rory. Between the pair of them, Lauren didn’t stand a chance. At last she rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh.

  ‘Stupid drunk.’ She nibbled crossly at her ragged nail. ‘She made me break my best—’

  ‘Well,’ said Rory. ‘All over. Want to come back with us? Have a go on my Xbox?’

  ~ Rory. Sionnach had stiffened, and he was giving him the kind of glower that used to be reserved for when Rory was a young brat and had a habit of running away.

  ~ Sionnach, said Rory, glaring back. ~ It’s not a problem.

  ~ Yes. It is.

  I’d have backed Sionnach up, but I was unnerved. ~ Sionnach, she saw something. We can’t just let her—

  ~ Live?

  ~ Sionnach!

  But Lauren heard none of that. She was still watching Rory with narrowed eyes. ‘Have you got Grand Theft Auto?’

  ‘No, but he’s got the latest Call of Duty.’ I back-kicked Sionnach’s ankle. ‘Yeah, come on back with us.’

  ‘Well, that’s a first.’ Lauren almost grinned at me. ‘Thanks.’

  Sionnach’s anger was coming off him in radioactive waves, but it was an offer Lauren couldn’t refuse and I wasn’t about to withdraw it. She was my cousin, even if not the one I was in love and lust with, and it was undeniably odd that I’d never invited her back to my new place. After all, I hadn’t bitten her face for at least three years, and she hadn’t gouged my eyeballs. Maybe we were both older and wiser; maybe it was just that we didn’t have to share a bathroom any more, or indeed a house.

  I lived with my real family now, with my uncle and the exiled clann he captained, and I was happy. Probably happier than any of them, since I was the only one who wasn’t dislocated and homesick. My life would be pretty much perfect, in fact, if it wasn’t for college applications, and the high chance of being hunted down and murdered.

  ~ Get rid of Lauren as soon as you can, Sionnach told me. ~ This is a mistake.

  ~ It’ll be fine.

  ~ We’re all going to regret it.

  Within about ten seconds, I already did. At school Lauren was inclined to eye Rory a little too closely and too long, and now, as we headed home through the deserted streets, she might have been surgically attached to his flank. Rory was way too polite and naive to tell her where to go, and Sionnach dropped back about fifty metres.

  It pissed me off, and funnily enough it wasn’t jealousy. It was just that Sionnach belonged with us more than Lauren ever would. Nobody had the right to take his place.

  I glanced over my shoulder, and Sionnach gave me one of his most beautiful grins.

  ~ It’s okay.

  Well. He might not mind, but I did.

  Nobody could say we lived in the best part of the city, but it was certainly the oldest. Half the old warren called Fishertown—‘town’ must have been a bit of stretch from day one—had been flattened to make way for warehouses and factory units and offices. What was left, when the heritage charities finally got their act together, was huddled on the far side of the industrial estate, cut off from the rest of the city: a few cobbled streets and low terraced cottages with quaint streetlights that I suspected weren’t the originals. Some Victorian shipowner had built a big house to the south, right up on the cliffs, overlooking his fiefdom. It was ramshackle now, dilapidated and unloved and unsold because the sea was eating at its foundations. Frankly I didn’t like to walk out on the headland and look back at the cliffs, riddled with tunnels and caves. At two in the morning, waking with a start, I could imagine the whole house collapsing into one of those holes.

  Rory’s stepmother had found the house, or it had found her: love and real-estate lust at first sight. It had no name and they didn’t give it one; my friend Orach once told me that if you named something, you tied it to you, and it would tie you right back. Old and huge, unrenovated so that its rooms and halls were a warren of secret places, the house was set at the end of a dark winding drive in more than two acres of wild rhododendron-haunted garden. And there we all lived, and when I say all, I mean all. The place was treated as an open house by what seemed like an entire exiled race. I never knew who I’d find when I got home from school.

  As Rory trudged up the drive with Lauren, I hung back under the untrimmed laurels and waited for Sionnach. He gave a soundless laugh as he caught up and put an arm round my shoulder, and together we negotiated the stuff piled in the hall. Motorbike helmets, mountain bikes, two pairs of muddy hillwalking boots, a sack of dry dog food. A case of empty wine bottles put out for recycling. Snowboards, waiting to be cleaned and waxed for the oncoming winter. I swore as I tripped on someone’s laptop bag. Minus laptop, and just as well, since I kicked it hard.

  I’d never altogether get my head round the Sithe’s gregarious ways. They just didn’t seem capable of living in nice little nuclear units. Always had to be in great sprawling anthills of humanity, and the more the merrier, but somehow, if you wanted space and solitude, you could find it. You could eve
n find peace and quiet.

  At least, you could find a moment’s peace when Rory’s father and stepmother weren’t tearing verbal strips off each other. As we caught up with Rory and Lauren, waiting in the hall, my heart sank. The kitchen door was shut but we could hear every word.

  ‘You conceited ARROGANT stubborn UP-YOURSELF FAERY! What makes you think you know better than me?’

  ‘Yeah, it’s not like I’ve had more experience of life. It’s not like I would know better because I’ve seen about a thousand percent more and know ten thousand times more than you do because I’ve been around a bit longer.’

  Rory had his hand on the kitchen door but he paused. If he walked in now, Seth and Finn might shut up, but then again they might not, and that would be even more embarrassing. He raised an eyebrow at me, and I shook my head. Sionnach sighed—half exasperated, half sorrowful—then edged past me and out towards the back garden and his workshop.

  Smiling brightly, Rory and I looked at Lauren, and Rory said. ‘Sorry about this. Let’s go upstairs.’

  Lauren stared at the kitchen door. ‘For God’s sake. Is he violent?’

  ‘Hoo!’ I laughed. ‘In his dreams. Take no notice.’

  ‘Wait till they make it up.’ Rory rolled his eyes. ‘That’s when it gets really embarrassing.’

  ‘I’ll prove it to you! I’ll show you what I saw, if you’ve got the guts to look!’

  ‘Don’t bother. You were hallucinating. I don’t want to share your hallucinations.’

  ‘Sometimes I could just SLAP YOU, SETH MACGREGOR!’

  ‘Well, why don’t you? It’s NOT LIKE YOU USUALLY HOLD BACK.’

  The total hideous silence was broken after a few seconds by a snort of laughter. A clatter of crockery falling to the floor, the scrape of a table. A growl and more laughter.

  ‘If I didn’t love you so much I’d have to kill you.’

  ‘Yeah, yeah. I’d like to see you try. Shut up and kiss me, woman.’