“Second shift,” said Jane, getting up to make room. “See you when you get home, Connie.”
“Thanks for coming,” she called after them.
Evelyn waited until the girls had gone and then folded Connie into a tight hug. Connie again had the unnerving sensation of perceiving the little life inside her aunt.
“Connie, you look so much better. Windfoal’s cured you then?” Evelyn said happily, not bothering to keep her voice down. The girl opposite, who had no visitors this afternoon, looked up curiously.
Dr. Brock raised one brow in warning and bent over to kiss Connie on the cheek. “Best not say too much about that just yet. Our companions, both big and little, send greetings, Connie.”
“Thank father and daughter for me,” said Connie smiling back at him, not without a pang of envy that he would be seeing Argand so soon and she was stuck inside for another day, at least. “So where is it now?” She could tell from their faces they both knew she was talking about the chimera. “And how’s Simon?”
Dr. Brock sighed, taking a seat in the plastic chair Jane had vacated. “Well, the two questions are linked, as you well know, because with you in here, only your brother can answer the first. The rock dwarves say they can’t sense it—something to do with stone sprite interference. But Simon’s not been seen by anyone except Hugh since the attack. He’s been hiding away in his room.”
“You’ve got to talk to him, Connie,” said Evelyn. She angrily stuffed the roses into an empty vase on Connie’s bedside table, snapping one from its stem. “I’m afraid he’s been damaged by what happened. He doesn’t want to accept what he is—won’t talk to any of us.”
“Of course, I’ll talk to him—as soon as I can.”
Dr. Brock leaned forward and said in a confidential voice, “The Trustees have convened an emergency assessment for him, and for that little boy, Liam, you identified. If you are well enough and can persuade Simon to come, it’s to be held next week at the Society headquarters. And”—he dropped his voice even lower—“they also want to take counsel with you on the chimera. It’s quite unheard of—a chimera in these parts. I have to admit that we’re suspicious of the coincidence. Your brother a companion to it—you, its quarry.”
Yes, thought Connie, put like that it did seem strange. If someone had known about Simon before she did and had wanted to create a trap for her, what would be better than using her brother to lure her into the mad creature’s path? If they knew this much, they would have known that only she had the gift to sense the danger and would not abandon Simon to face it alone. But the creature itself gave no hint that it was doing anything but following its own crazed impulses.
“I see,” she said without committing herself to a comment on what Dr. Brock had said, not wanting to speak her fears aloud. “Of course, I’ll try to persuade him. Simon owes me one.”
It was without much grace that Simon agreed to accompany his sister on the trip to London. He said he would go for her sake, but warned that he was doing so under protest. He wanted nothing more to do with his “gift” as she insisted on calling it, nor did he want to see any more monsters, bull-headed or otherwise. Connie felt desperately sad for him: he was clinging on to the illusion that he could just pretend none of it had happened. He had even grown angry with her when she had forced him to admit what he had seen and felt on that fateful night.
The visit coincided with Col’s Grade Four theory examination, also to be held at the Society headquarters, and Connie was relieved to have his help in getting a reluctant Simon onto the train and for keeping up a light three-way conversation with her brother and Mack all the way to Paddington. She sat leaning against the window, feeling washed out; her right side still ached and was painfully sore when anything touched it. At night, Kullervo’s voice still taunted and tempted her to join him at the mark. She had to wake repeatedly to drive him off with Sentinel’s help, leaving her exhausted when dawn finally arrived. In a perfect world, she would have preferred to spend the day quietly at home. But it wasn’t a perfect world, and a meeting with the Trustees was not something she could miss.
“They’ve got absolutely no chance of winning.” Col was still arguing sports good-humoredly with Simon as they got out of the taxi onto Liam’s street, south of the River Thames. Connie wrinkled her nose, smelling decay and neglect in the doorway of the low-rise block of flats. Col stopped teasing Simon about his team and gazed around him, also dispirited by what he saw. Black bags of garbage were piled in a heap by the overflowing dumpsters. Graffiti, pointlessly repeated initials, defaced the drab brick walls. A derelict car up on wooden blocks obstructed the entrance.
“Come on,” said Mack, the only one who seemed unperturbed by their surroundings. He squeezed his way around the car. “Let’s go on up.”
They climbed two evil-smelling flights of concrete stairs and arrived at a landing. It ran down the front of the apartments like a walkway in the sky. It was less gloomy up here; bright window boxes decorated some of the homes; a little boy rode past on a multi-colored tricycle, ringing his bell happily. They stepped out of his path, and then moved aside quickly again as his dad jogged by in hot pursuit of the speeding toddler.
“It’s Number Eighteen,” said Mack, checking a piece of paper. “Last in the row.” He knocked. After a few moments, the door opened and a skinny woman, hair straggling on her shoulders, peered outside.
“What d’you want?” she asked. She took a drag on a thin white cigarette she held shakily in her right hand.
“Suzanne? It’s me, Mack Clamworthy. We’ve come to take Liam out for the afternoon. Do you remember me calling you over the weekend about it?”
Suzanne lifted her tired, pale eyes to him and a glimmer of recognition passed over her face. “You’d better come in then.” She turned in to the hallway, steadying herself by resting her hand on the shiny wallpaper decorated with overblown roses. “Liam, baby, your friends are here!”
The little boy erupted out of a door at the far end of the hall, hopping with delight.
“Great!” He sprinted toward them as if intending to leave there and then.
As neither Mack nor Suzanne said anything, Connie caught Liam gently by the shoulder. “Shoes, Liam?” she asked, pointing to his bare feet.
He grinned up at her. “Oops,” he said and ran back into the room he had come from.
Feet stuffed in tatty sneakers, Liam breezed back into the hallway.
“See you later, Mum,” he called, nearly pushing Mack out of the door in his haste to be gone.
“Bye, baby,” she said, taking another drag on her cigarette.
“I’ll bring him back around six,” Mack told her when she forgot to ask. “And you can reach me on my cell phone.” He thrust a piece of paper into her hand, which she put absentmindedly into her pocket.
“Fine. Have fun.”
6
Playing with Fire
Col glanced at his watch for the hundredth time as the taxi crawled slowly down the Strand, one of the busiest streets in London.
“I’m going to be late!” he muttered. “The test starts in five minutes.”
“You’ll be there on time.” Mack yawned, turning the page of the newspaper he had brought with him. “Anyway, I thought you said Grade Four would be a breeze for you and Skylark.” He winked at Connie. Simon and Liam looked up, their interest caught by a discussion they did not quite understand.
Col swallowed. His palms were sweaty and his throat dry. A flutter of nerves in his stomach made him feel sick. He was angry that his father, as usual, was failing to provide a sympathetic ear to his problems. Mack had never understood what it was like to be in his shoes.
“I said the practical exam will be a breeze, but the theory paper, that’s different.”
“You’ll be fine,” said Mack with annoying calm. “When I was your age, I passed all my tests with top marks. Don’t forget: you’re a Clamworthy.”
“Shut up, Dad,” said Col.
Connie interv
ened before father and son could rub each other further the wrong way. “Give it another minute, Col, then you can always get out and go the rest of the way on foot if we’re still stuck at these lights. We’re almost there now.”
Col’s hand hovered by the door, but at that moment the lights changed and the taxi grumbled on for the final hundred yards, dropping the passengers at the entrance to the alleyway leading to the Society headquarters. Col abandoned his father and the others, calling over his shoulder: “See you later. I’ll meet you in the foyer when I’m done.”
He disappeared into the dark tunnel of the alleyway, leaving them to follow more slowly.
“Connie, what’s going to happen to me?” asked Liam—not as if he was afraid, but as if he wanted to relish each exciting detail. Connie saw that Simon, though pretending to be fascinated by the railings of the old houses they passed, was listening intently.
“Nothing bad. They’ll do a test on you to make sure that I’ve got your gift right.”
“A test? What will I have to do? I can’t read much, yet.”
Connie gave him a reassuring smile. “You won’t need to do anything but follow a few simple orders and then answer some questions. You won’t need to read anything.”
“And then?”
“Usually, after the test, you’ll be given a mentor to help with the rest of your training—your mentor will teach you how to talk to your creature safely.”
Simon gave a skeptical snort. Connie knew what he was thinking: it was doubtful any training could teach you to encounter a crazed chimera without losing a limb. She had to admit she agreed with him.
Mack strode purposefully under the arch into the courtyard of the palatial headquarters of the Society for the Protection of Mythical Creatures. Its warm, caramel-colored facade—decorated with ornate carvings depicting creatures from the four companies—glittered with three rows of high windows; the slate roof was topped with a lantern dome that sparkled like a lighthouse. The sun blazed on the cobbled forecourt, making the walls gleam like gold cliffs rising from a sparkling gray-blue sea. None of this splendor gave Mack a moment’s pause, but both Liam and Simon stopped in their tracks.
“Are we allowed in?” asked Simon.
“Of course, or we wouldn’t have brought you here,” said Connie, leading the way over the cobbles. She remembered very well how daunted she had felt on her first visit.
“What’s this?” asked Simon, pointing up at the compass motif in the circular window over the doorway.
“It’s the symbol of the universals,” said Connie briefly as she passed under it.
Simon gave her a sideways look. “That’s what you are, aren’t you?” When she looked surprised, he added, “I heard that minotaur call you—that name.”
This was the first time Simon had willingly referred to the events of the previous week. Connie nodded. “That’s right. That’s my sign.”
Simon said nothing more, but Connie took heart from the fact that he was no longer trying to block out what he had seen and heard. The indisputable presence of the Society headquarters appeared to be changing his mind. She only hoped this more cooperative mood would last.
Mack was waiting for them in the marble foyer, leaning against the porter’s window, laughing with him about something.
“I’ve signed you all in,” he said loudly, his voice booming around the cavernous space. He tossed them each a badge, which Connie promptly dropped. Mack groaned.
“I should put her down for the England cricket team, shouldn’t I?” he joked with the porter. “She’d fit in with the current bunch.”
Connie was forcibly reminded of his son: both Clamworthys had the ability to ignore atmospheres that would daunt others. She scooped her tag from the floor and saw that it had a silver compass next to her name.
“What are these for?” she asked. On her previous visits, she’d only had to sign in.
“For the Chamber of Counsel,” said the porter. “You’re not allowed in there without one of those. Do you like yours? I got my wife to run that off the computer specially. Needless to say, we didn’t have any in stock for you.”
Connie smiled shyly. “Yes. Thank you—and thank your wife, too.”
“Off you go then,” said the porter, waving them to the double doors opposite, which were nestled between the two curving flights of stairs leading up to the library above. “The meeting’s already started. You’re the last to arrive.”
Mack led the way over to the entrance and pushed open the doors with a boom. Connie, who had never entered this chamber before, was astounded by what she saw. A huge room stretched before them, the same dimensions as the library on the floor above, but unlike that book-filled space, the walls here were lined with mirrors, reflecting themselves infinitely on all sides. It was like stepping inside a crystal ball—she felt momentarily giddy. Liam gasped. Simon moved closer to his sister.
The floor was polished white marble, veined with blue-gray. In its center was an inlaid four-pointed star made out of silver. As Connie approached, she recognized it as her sign. Looking straight ahead along the eastern point, she saw Storm-Bird perched on a golden rod suspended from the high ceiling. Its head was tucked under its wing, but as Connie’s feet touched the center of the compass, it awoke, croaking a greeting. A rumble of distant thunder rolled toward her as the giant crow-like bird fluttered to the floor. Seated cross-legged at Storm-Bird’s feet was its companion, Eagle-Child, dressed in a tan suede jacket and trousers, his long black hair streaked with white. The front panels of his jacket were decorated with wings made from tiny blue and red stones. He raised his hand, palm outward, in greeting to the universal. Glancing behind her, she heard the steady clip-clop of hooves on the marble. Windfoal, the unicorn, had stepped forward to take her stand at the western end of the Chamber of Counsel, her white coat making the marble dull by comparison. Kira Okona followed and took a seat on a wooden armchair by the unicorn’s side. Kira was dressed in bright African cottons, her braided hair concealed today under a flamboyant blue and white headdress.
From the expression on Simon’s face as he stared to his right, Connie guessed he had spotted the ancient green dragon, Morjik. His gnarled green hide seemed even rougher than Connie remembered in contrast to the smooth stone floor. He looked like a volcanic island rising out of a sea of milk. His ruby eyes gleamed hotly, lit by the fire within. A tendril of smoke wound up from his snout, curling to the ceiling where it hung in an umbrella-shaped cloud over his head. His companion, Kinga Potowska, an elderly woman but still a formidable dragon-rider, looked up and smiled at Connie; her determined eyes glinted speculatively as she next turned her gaze on the two boys who trailed in the universal’s wake.
Finally, Connie raised her sight to the northern-most point of the chamber to where the newest Trustee pair was seated. The representatives of the Elementals—Chan Lee, an older Chinese man neatly dressed in a collarless black suit, and the rock dwarf Jade—sat side by side, both still as stone. The rock dwarf, her body swathed in a green cloak, pushed back her hood to gaze on the universal. Connie was struck by her beauty; used to Gard’s craggy features, she had not expected this. Jade reminded Connie of an exquisitely carved chess queen she’d once seen in a shop selling Far Eastern curios: wide almond eyes, long graceful neck, elegant fingers that lightly grasped a small silver mallet. But the most alluring thing about Jade was the beautiful polished sheen to her skin, a rich blue-green hue flecked with crystal.
Greetings, Universal, came Jade’s voice, sliding through the veins of marble floor to the soles of Connie’s feet. We meet at last.
Connie bowed her head respectfully.
Kinga stood up and came a few paces forward, holding out her hand to the newcomers.
“On behalf of the Trustees for the Society for the Protection of Mythical Creatures, may I welcome you all into our circle,” she said, gesturing around at her colleagues. Connie, feeling exposed standing in the middle of the vast room with only the two boys beside her,
looked for Mack and saw that he had gravitated instinctively to the southern end of the chamber and had seated himself on the far side of Morjik. She wished he hadn’t abandoned her so quickly. His belief in her abilities often outstripped her own confidence. She looked down shyly, noticing for the first time how her feet were in the very center of the compass as if drawn to that spot like a magnet.
“Please, take a seat,” continued Kinga.
To Connie’s surprise, Liam immediately headed off toward the rock dwarf and sat himself down at the hem of her robe. Connie saw Kinga look inquiringly over at the Trustee pair for the Elementals. Mr. Chan nodded slightly, and the rock dwarf gracefully rested her hand on Liam’s hair and gave him an affectionate pat.
“That is settled then,” said Kinga in a pleased voice. “Liam is confirmed as a fire imp companion.”
Connie’s face must have registered her astonishment for Eagle-Child laughed. “There are more ways than one of carrying out an assessment, Universal, as you should remember from your own experience,” he said. “When the candidate stands in the center of all the Trustees, we do not need to resort to the substitutes used by the Society’s assessors in our absence.”
Connie glanced at Simon. He was still hovering in the middle of the room beside her, looking angry and confused. Why had it not worked for him then?
“Simon,” Connie asked softly, “do you know which way you should go?”
Simon shook his head miserably; he bit his lip. Gazing around the circle, Connie noticed that the Trustees, too, now looked uncertain.
“Stand out of the circle, Connie,” said Kinga after a brief pause. “Perhaps your presence is confusing us.”
Quickly, Connie moved toward Mack to a point as far away from the Trustees as she could go. The last thing she wanted was to mess up Simon’s introduction to the Society, knowing how hostile he had been to the whole idea in the first place. Simon now stood alone in the center. Her heart ached for him. She wished he would listen to the prompting of his gift and make up his mind.