Ah, there’s the sound of a key in the lock and here is the man himself. I dance over to him. Quick, quick, slow. I take his arms. “Where’ve you been?” Quick, quick, slow.
He smiles at me. “Hi, Rose. How are you?”
“This is the rumba. Do you know it?”
“No.”
He’s not even trying.
“Move your hips. Look, it’s very simple. Just think, Quick, quick, slow. Watch me.” I turn and rumba away from him. “You’re not supposed to disappear off. What if Mercury wanted you?”
“Does she?”
“I’m only thinking of you, Gabriel.” Quick, quick, slow. Quick, quick, slow. “We really need a mirror in here.”
Gabriel dances over. He’s not bad when he tries. I take his arms. Quick, quick, slow. Cross body. Quick, quick, slow.
“Does Mercury want me, Rose?”
“No.” Side rock, side rock. Then I remember. “There’s a Half Blood gathering tonight. Are you going?”
“Yes, I met Mathieu at the cafe last week. He invited me.”
“Good. Mercury will be pleased. She wants you to look out for a Half Blood called Oscar.” Quick, quick, slow.
“And why does she want me to do that?”
“He short-changed Mercury on a deal. Took a ring from a delivery. It probably wasn’t worth much, but that’s not the point.” Quick, quick, slow. “I’ve looked for him, but he’s avoiding me. He might have left town, but I don’t think so. Mathieu will be hiding him. He’ll give him protection, but only so far. Oscar is not well liked. He’s an idiot. Only an idiot would try to cheat Mercury. Most Half Bloods will understand that he deserves what he gets. Anyway, he may believe it’s safe enough to go to a little gathering. I’ll be watching from a distance. If he turns up, you will have to lead him to me.”
“And what will happen to him then?”
“That’s definitely not something you should trouble yourself over.” Quick, quick—“You’ve stopped dancing.”
Gabriel
Rose is manipulative and cruel, but there’s something about her that I like. She’s honest, I suppose, and has an amazing love of life. My mother had the same mixture of fun and excitement, light-heartedness and seriousness. Michèle had it too, although Rose is much more dangerous.
I was going to go to the gathering anyway—that’s what I came back from Céüse for—but now Mercury wants more from me and I suspect there will be even more after this. I’ll go, look out for Oscar, and hope he isn’t there. If he is, then I’ll do what I have to do. I don’t have much choice.
Rose shows me photographs of Oscar. He has straight black hair and the blue-green eyes of a Half Blood. Caitlin’s eyes.
It’s dark and the forest is quiet. There’s music up ahead, a guitar and singing and a low hum of talking. Then, as I get closer, I see them: forty or fifty people, all Half Bloods, I think. There’s a hog roast, someone carving the meat off it. I pass a couple of tables set up with food and drinks, and move among the people standing round the bonfire. One or two stare at me: I’m the only fain here. I stick out. I get a bottle of beer from a cooler, scan the group for familiar faces, and spot Mathieu arriving with a young man trailing behind him. Oscar.
Mathieu does the rounds, passing through the crowd and greeting everyone. Oscar follows, getting an occasional greeting but mostly cool looks. Eventually Mathieu gets to me, though Oscar is no longer with him.
Mathieu says, “It’s good to see you, Luc. I wasn’t sure you’d come.”
“I went climbing. Stayed with some fain friends.”
“You should be with Half Bloods if you want to feel anything magical. That’s what these gatherings are for: to remind us what we are. It’s important for us all. Even you.”
He pats my shoulder and I feel miserable that I’ve been lying to him. Mathieu does seem a genuinely good person. We talk about the organization of the gathering and the other people here, and as more people arrive I realize that Mathieu is right. Here, surrounded by these people, these half witches, something in me connects with them. That’s part of the purpose of a gathering. It’s a party and a chance to hear news, but it’s more than that: it’s an opportunity to feel the magic within ourselves, and even in this fain body I can feel something. When I was a Black Witch living with Black Witches, I never gave it a second thought, but now I do. When I’m among fains, I lose the magic even more; when I’m with other witches, or even Half Bloods, I feel it. And despite being stuck in this fain body for months now, I can feel it. There is something of the witch-me still alive inside.
An hour or two later I’ve spoken to a number of Half Bloods and am discovering, as carefully as I can, more about Oscar. Whereas Mathieu is widely respected, Oscar is scorned. He’s seen as vain, selfish, and spoiled, a troublemaker, though no one has mentioned any run-ins with Mercury. I’ve seen Oscar across the crowd but not come close to talking to him, and now I’m with a couple from Belgium.
“Been to Vegas,” the man says. “Took a real gamble and stopped off in New York on the way.” New York is White Witch territory.
“We love New York,” the girl adds.
“Too full of Whites for me,” I reply.
The girl looks at me as if she’s still trying to work out what I am. Before I can say anything a voice cuts in: “He’s quarter Black, apparently.” It’s Oscar. “Not even a Half Blood.”
Not even a quarter, actually.
The girl sneers at Oscar, and her boyfriend takes her arm and steers her away, clearly trying to prevent an argument.
I say to Oscar, “Well, a quarter is better than nothing, I suppose.”
“Hardly.”
Another couple join us, George and Geena, who are both half White and from London and claim to know Oscar’s relatives in England. I half expect Oscar to insult them and leave, but he looks interested when Geena says, “The Council of White Witches in England is in turmoil. It’s a complete mess. A dangerous mess. People are losing jobs, status, and even their lives.”
“Really?” Oscar asks. “Their lives?”
Is he concerned or excited?!
Geena doesn’t elaborate but explains that the problems in Britain have been set off because a prisoner, a boy called Nathan, escaped from the Council.
As soon as Geena says the name Nathan, Oscar snorts. “Come off it. He’s a myth. He doesn’t really exist.”
And for once, I agree with Oscar. Everyone in the witch community has heard of Nathan. He’s said to be half Black Witch and half White Witch, which is so rare as to be unique. Even more amazing than that, his father is supposed to be Marcus Edge, one of the most dangerous and powerful Black Witches.
Most people don’t believe Nathan exists at all, of course. Marcus Edge, from one of the most prestigious Black families, wouldn’t sully his name with a White Witch; and this White Witch would’ve had to have been mad to have brought Marcus’s child into the world.
Geena says, “It’s all true. Nathan’s mother’s family were quite well thought of. Nathan’s been looked after by the Council of White Witches for years, protected by them.”
Oscar sneers. “You said he was a prisoner a minute ago.”
Geena shrugs. “He’s half White but he’s half Black too. I think they’d have killed him if he was obviously Black. But now maybe he’s showing his true colors. He’s nearly seventeen. He’ll be desperate for his Giving.”
“Whites don’t die if they don’t have their Giving,” says Oscar. “They just revert to fain.”
Geena raises her eyebrows. “He’s half Black and he’s the son of Marcus. I’m willing to bet he’ll be like his father. He’ll die.”
“But how come the Brits are in a mess because of this one boy?” I ask.
“No one has ever got away from the Council before. And he’s a kid, a whet, not even an adult witch. If he can escape, well . . .”
“The Council Leader was removed from office, and all her supporters too,” George says. “Very convenient for Soul O’Brien, who has taken over. It’s as if he had it all set up in advance.”
“And what’s Soul’s ultimate aim?” Oscar asks.
“Kill all Blacks,” Geena says.
“That’s nothing new for Britain,” I reply.
“And all they deserve,” Oscar adds. “They treat us like scum. All witches treat us Half Bloods as if we’re not good enough to wipe their asses. But when they want some work done they’ll get us to run around after them, pay us a pittance, and then spit on us.”
“Well, don’t expect any better treatment from Soul,” George says.
“Yes,” Geena agrees. “And he’s already looking to Europe. We were in Paris last week and all anyone was talking about was the recruitment of Hunters in France. They want to expand. The Whites in France, some of them, are joining up already.”
I’ve lived most of my life in France and Switzerland where, like most countries in Europe, there are communities of White Witches and Black Witches that get along well enough by ignoring each other and sticking to their own territories. There have been flare-ups of violence over the years but usually just between individuals, not groups. I’d be surprised if the French were taking up the British idea of wiping out the Blacks. It doesn’t feel right, but then again, apart from Rose, I don’t know any White Witches. And Rose is definitely not typical.
“No one’s actually seen any Hunters then?” Oscar says. “Rumors, that’s all these things are.”
And, horrible though he is, I agree with him again.
“No one’s ever seen this Nathan boy either, but that doesn’t mean he doesn’t exist,” George snaps.
Another woman joins our group and Geena begins her story again. I move closer to Oscar and say, “Want a drink?”
“Sure, get me a beer,” he says.
I get two bottles of beer and return to the spot where we were standing, but Oscar has gone. The whole gathering is getting wilder, or at least drunker and more edgy. As I walk round the fire, I see him talking to another man who appears to be the worse for a few drinks. I join them, passing Oscar his beer. The new guy is in his mid-thirties, balding and stocky, and has an Australian accent.
Oscar introduces me by saying, “This is Luc, Quarter Blood. Mathieu invited him, but really he shouldn’t be allowed here.” He then moves to stand half in front of me, as if trying to be rid of an irritating servant. But the new guy maneuvers round and clinks beers with me, saying, “Nesbitt. Good to meet you.”
I nod, starting to wonder if it’s going to be possible to lure Oscar away to Rose. He clearly doesn’t like me, and I can’t exactly just knock him out and carry him off.
Oscar says, “So you’re just back from Florida?”
Nesbitt says, “I’m trying to find an old friend. Well, the son of an old friend of mine. Gabriel Boutin.”
What?
Oscar frowns. “I’ve heard the name. Boutin. Black Witch scum. He lived in Switzerland for a while, didn’t he?”
“That’s the old man. Moved here after he split up from his wife. She’s dead now; not sure exactly what went on there. But it seems he and his kids left for the States.” Nesbitt shrugs. “I’ve searched France, Switzerland, and Florida. Heard the son came back this way.”
But why do you want to find me?
“He must owe you a lot of money,” Oscar says with a smirk.
Nesbitt grins. “His dad was an old friend, that’s all. Said I’d look up his kid when I was back here.”
I don’t think so. I don’t know many of my father’s friends, but almost all of them were female and attractive. Nesbitt is neither. All I can think is that he’s after my father to get revenge for him killing my grandmother. But that doesn’t make sense. If Nesbitt did go to Florida, he would have found my father, no problem. So why is he here looking for me?
“What about the daughter?” Oscar asks.
I don’t move, don’t flinch.
Nesbitt replies, “She died too. Nasty business. Killed by Whites in Florida.” Nesbitt is staring at me. “Anyway, I thought I might find the boy in Geneva.”
“He’s a Black. You won’t find him here,” Oscar says.
“Well, if you do bump into him, I’d appreciate you letting me know. And my partner, van Dal, would be particularly grateful. She’d love to have a chat with him.”
“I thought you just wanted to look up an old family friend,” I say.
“Van just wants a chat about”—he waves his hands around and grins—“stuff. It’s her business. I’m just helping ’cause I knew the old man. You know how it is.”
“Well, if we see him, we’ll let you know,” Oscar says, and he takes my arm in a painful grip and steers me away into the trees.
When we’re alone Oscar says, “Interesting what Nesbitt was saying about that scum Boutin, wasn’t it, Luc?”
What’s he getting at? Does Oscar know my father?
Before I can reply, Oscar says, “You don’t remember me, do you?”
I’m sure I’ve never met Oscar before. I say, “It’s my first time here. I’ve not—”
“You really don’t remember me, do you? I met you a few years ago at a wedding. Well, I say ‘met,’ but I was only allowed to stand at the back, being a Half Blood and so not a real relative. You were with the groom’s family.”
I really can’t remember him. “You must be mixing me up with someone else. I’ve never been—”
“Shame about what happened to your little sister.”
“I don’t have a sister.”
“No, she’s dead.”
I take a breath and say, “I’ve never had a sister. You’re mixing—”
“Just cut the crap.” He stands back, smirking. “I remember you, and none of your Black lies will change what I know. Mind you, you were a Black Witch then. What happened to you? What are you? A fain? You’re not Quarter Blood, I know that.”
I know he’s not going to listen to me deny it anymore, so I have to try something else.
“Look, I’m stuck in this fain body, OK. I’m just stuck. Yes, I was a Black Witch, but now I’m nothing, not even a Half Blood. Most Blacks don’t want to know me.”
“That’s a real heartbreaking story. But you haven’t told it to Mathieu.”
“Because Half Bloods wouldn’t trust me, wouldn’t want me around.”
“Well, I don’t trust you and I don’t want you around. But I won’t tell on you to Mathieu or to Nesbitt just yet. Not if you make it worth my while.”
“Oscar, I don’t have any money, I don’t have—”
“I’ll just call Nesbitt back over now, shall I?”
“OK. OK. I have an amulet. It’s old, valuable. I can bring it to you.”
“How come I get the feeling that you’ll leave town tonight and forget all about giving me what’s mine? No, we’ll go and get it now.”
And, just like that, we’re leaving.
Rose
Gabriel is leading Oscar away from the gathering. I was beginning to wonder if he would ever manage it. As they start out through the trees, though, I catch a movement. It’s a man, following them. I recognize his face. I can’t remember his name, but he works for that interfering busybody, van Dal. I wonder if he knows Gabriel is working for Mercury and is hoping he’ll lead him to her. Well, no time to find that out now; I just need him out of the picture. I step out from the trees and wave.
He looks my way and hesitates. He knows he’s been caught.
“Hi!” He smiles, as if that’s going to win me over. “Rose, isn’t it?”
“Why, yes, it is. And you are?”
“On my way home. Then I saw those fellas up ahead, looking a bit worse for wear. I was worried about them.” He looks past me, trying t
o see Oscar and Gabriel, but I know I’ve distracted him long enough for them to disappear from view.
I say, “You really should get home. It’s late.” And then I melt into mist and linger just long enough to watch his face relax and become confused.
I run now. This is so much fun!
I’m out of the forest and onto the streets. Running barefoot isn’t so much fun here, but still. And there they are: Oscar and Gabriel together. Oscar has his back to me. Now bare feet are useful and I sneak right up to him and slide next to Gabriel, taking his hand and melting into mist again as Oscar looks at me.
Oscar says, “Do I know you?”
“My name is Rose. This is Gabriel.”
And I take Oscar’s arm and lead him to Mercury.
Gabriel
Rose links arms with a stupefied Oscar and guides him down the road.
“You need to come too, Gabriel,” she says, and so I follow a few steps behind.
“What did you do to him?”
“It’s my Gift. A little confusion with a dash of forgetfulness and he’s as docile as a lamb.”
We don’t go far—only a hundred meters into a quiet alleyway and through to a small, poorly lit courtyard. I follow but hang back near the wall. Rose touches Oscar’s cheek and says something that seems to snap him out of his trance. He retreats from Rose and looks around. I stand blocking the only exit. He takes a step toward me, but then a bitterly cold wind blows from the far end of the courtyard. Oscar stops and turns to face Mercury, who steps out of the dark corner.
“Oscar. I don’t want to waste any more time on you than I have to. You stole something from me.” Her voice is as chilling as if it’s part of the wind.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about, Mercury.”
The freezing wind intensifies and Oscar turns his back to Mercury and then falls to his knees and huddles in a ball to protect himself. I hold up my arm to shield my face from the cold.