The Eighth Court (16 page)

Alex crept along the passage to her room wrapped in glamour designed to turn away curious eyes, checking behind her in case anyone had seen her come in. She went to her door and slipped through, checking the corridor once more before gently closing the door and letting the glamour fall away.

“You’re back late.”

“Jeez!” Alex spun around to find Blackbird sitting on her bed, her hands folded in her lap. “What are you trying to do, give me a heart attack?” She laid her hand on her heart. She could actually feel it beating. “What are you doing in my room?”

“Waiting for you.”

“I was out,” said Alex.

“I can see that,” said Blackbird, taking in the stains on the knees of Alex’s jeans, the mud on her trainers, and the dirt smeared into her sweatshirt. “Your father thinks you were looking after the baby.”

“Oh yeah,” said Alex, brushing with her hand at the marks on her sweatshirt. “Sorry about that.” As Blackbird examined her, the stains began to fade subtly. Her hair became less tangled, her hands cleaner.

Blackbird continued as if she hadn’t spoken. “I must confess that’s what I thought too, until I got back and found that the baby’s been with Lesley all evening.”

“I kinda got side-tracked,” said Alex. “I bumped into Sparky and he suggested we go out, and one thing led to another.”

“Did it indeed?” Blackbird looked again at the knees of Alex’s jeans, which were hardly stained at all by now. “It led to another, did it?”

“What d’you mean?”

“Alex, you are old enough to become a mother in your own right.”

“A mother! You’re joking, aren’t you?”

“When one thing leads, as you say, to another, there can be unforeseen consequences.”

“You think I’ve been having sex?” Alex laughed. “With Sparky? I can’t believe you’re saying that.”

“I’m not accusing you of anything,” said Blackbird. “I’m simply making you aware of things that may have escaped your notice.”

“I think I know about the birds and the bees,” said Alex. “Mum and me had that conversation years ago.”

“Did she mention that being a mother has responsibilities?” asked Blackbird.

“I guess that kinda goes unsaid.”

“Responsibilities that include being where you said you’ll be, doing what you said you would do, and not leaving other people to pick up the pieces for you when you decide to go off and do something else.”

“I said I was sorry,” said Alex.

“Saying you’re sorry isn’t the same as being sorry,” said Blackbird. “And it’s not me you need to apologise to. You may want to find a moment to apologise to Lesley. She ended up looking after the baby in your absence.”

“I don’t know why I have to look after him anyway,” said Alex.

“I’m not your mother, Alex, and I’m not telling you what to do. However, if you say you will do something, I expect you to do it, or at least try.”

“He’s your baby,” Alex said, resentfully.

“He’s your brother,” Blackbird reminded her.

“Half-brother,” said Alex.

Blackbird stared at her for a moment. “I’m not your wicked stepmother, so I’d prefer that you didn’t paint me as one.”

“That’s OK,” said Alex. “Because I’m not Snow White.”

Blackbird glanced at Alex’s knees again, which showed no signs of the stains that had been evident earlier. “No,” she said, “you’re not.” Alex blushed.

Blackbird stood, and as she did, Alex moved quickly away from the door to the window overlooking the courtyard, leaving a clear exit and staying well out of reach of Blackbird, who smiled slowly. “Since your return to us, your father has asked for you to be given space to come to terms with what happened to you. I think you’ve had space enough, Alex, and it’s time you thought about how you might give something in return.”

“I’m not your babysitter,” said Alex.

“I never said you were,” said Blackbird, “and there are other ways that you could show some gratitude for what you have and some respect for those who provide it, though I can appreciate that a young person might not want to be burdened with a baby,” she said. “It would cramp your style somewhat, I think.”

“What does that mean?” asked Alex.

“Only what it says,” said Blackbird. “Is it your intention to join the Eighth Court, Alex?”

She shrugged. “Not got much choice, have I?”

“There’s always a choice, my dear,” said Blackbird, “and consequences either way, but if you are to join the Eighth Court then you will have to pledge allegiance, in blood, on oath. That oath will be binding, and if you swear falsely it will trip on your tongue.”

“Then maybe I won’t swear,” she said.

“That’s your choice,” said Blackbird, “but you will not receive the protection of the court without swearing allegiance.”

“Don’t need protection, do I? I can look after myself.”

“That’s easy to say from a room at the centre of the courts, protected by Warders, surrounded by people you trust. But you’ve been outside, Alex, and I don’t think your memory is so poor that you’ve forgotten what it means to be alone.”

“Yeah, well. I survived.”

“That’s one of the choices,” said Blackbird. “Most of us can survive. We find a way because we have to, but if you want more than mere survival then you need help. That’s what we’re doing, Alex, we’re helping each other to build something better. Think about it.”

Blackbird went to the door and then hesitated. “If I were you,” she said, “I would get myself cleaned up, in bed and at least pretend to be asleep before your father comes back and starts asking the sorts of questions you don’t want to answer.”

“You’re going to tell him?” Alex didn’t want to ask, but she had to know.

“That we talked? No, I don’t think your father needs to be aware of every conversation we have.”

“I meant about coming back late, about not looking after the baby.”

“I won’t mention it, Alex, but that doesn’t mean he won’t find out. Sleep well.”

The door closed behind Blackbird and Alex was left alone, but even so she counted to a hundred before she finally let the glamour go. She was going to have to find somewhere to stash her ruined clothes until she could get them washed. She stripped and dropped all of them behind the chest of drawers, pushing the soiled trainers under the chest with the edge of her foot so they’d be out of sight. The shower she took was hot and long, and after it she felt as if her limbs had turned to jelly. She turned off the light, cracked the door open so that light from the hallway striped up across the carpet and up the wall and slid into bed.

She was exhausted but somehow too gunned to sleep. She felt wired, as if she’d drunk one of Sparky’s boosters and was now so full of caffeine and stimulants that sleep was impossible. Her mind kept turning to the wild ride through the forest, the brutally violent encounter they’d observed, and the promises she’d made to Tate.

But when she slept, her dreams were full of trees flashing past in the dark.

Amber near enough dragged me through the Ways without pause for thought. I was already dreadfully tired and instead of the usual elation, I felt drained and slightly sick. I wondered what happened if you threw up on the Ways. Did it spew vomit out over you when you were finally ejected? That thought held my stomach together until we were back at the courts.

She supported me as far as the door to the rooms that Blackbird and I shared. I leaned against the wall, hatching an ambitious plan to sneak in, grab a shower and change out of my blood-soaked clothes before Blackbird discovered I’d been shot. That plan was rather undermined when I discovered Blackbird and the baby with Angela and Lesley in our rooms.

“You can do the explaining,” said Amber, as she helped me inside.

Blackbird almost did a double take. “What on earth happened?” she asked, passing the baby to Lesley and taking in the dark stains spread into my shirt and trousers, almost black against the Warder grey.

“It’s not as bad as it looks,” I said, the words tripped on my tongue as I tried to play down the situation.

Blackbird pulled open my jacket for a better look. “This is blood! For goodness sakes, Niall, you’re covered in it. What happened?”

Now that I was safe, my reserves were suddenly spent. I put an arm out to the door to steady myself and missed my handhold, dropping my sword and stumbling so that Amber half caught me. Instead I slid slowly to the floor, half supported by her. My eyes felt suddenly heavy. “It’s OK,” I said. “Amber was there.”

“You’re wounded,” said Blackbird. “Angela, get me a towel soaked in cold water. Amber, help me get him out of this jacket.” Between them they eased me out of the jacket, and Blackbird inspected the holes where the bullets had entered.

“Amber helped me…” I mumbled.

Blackbird collected some scissors from the desk, addressing Amber. “I suppose you have some explanation for this?” she asked her.

“It’s not my doing,” she told Blackbird. “This is all his own work.”

I roused myself in Amber’s defence. “If it hadn’t been for Amber, I wouldn’t be here.”

“What happened to looking out for each other,” asked Blackbird, cutting me out of the shirt. “Dump those on the bath, Angela. They’re ruined anyway. I need to clean some of this blood off.”

“We are looking out for each other,” said Amber. “He’s here isn’t he?”

“This isn’t Amber’s fault,” I said. My words sounded slurred, even to me. “I underestimated Sam. He picked his moment.”

“Can you stand?” she asked me, “Walk as far as the bathroom?”

I nodded, though I was far from sure.

Between Blackbird and Amber they manoeuvred me into the bathroom. I had a moment of modesty, but Blackbird overruled me, stripping out of my blood-soaked trousers.

“She’s seen it all before,” she claimed, but Amber made her excuses and retired gracefully and left Blackbird to clean me up. She inspected the newly pink skin over the wounds in my side where Sam had shot me, probing them gently with her fingers. Taking a wet flannel, she cleaned off the dried blood while I told her about the missing horseshoes, the flat, the message left on the fridge and the rendezvous with Sam.

“I guess Sam knew one side of the story,” I said, recovered a little now I was sat down. “I was going to try and explain the rest.”

“It sounds like he’s already had an explanation, reached a conclusion and acted upon it,” she said. “Hold onto the edge of the edge of the sink.”

“What for?”

“Just do as you’re asked for once.”

I did as I was bid and she placed her hands over my heart and the wound in my side. The air in the bathroom chilled, the lights dimming as a gentle warmth spread out under her palms.

“Should you be doing that?” I asked. “You’ll upset Garvin again.”

Blackbird explained what Garvin could do with his objections while the heat in my side intensified. It became almost painful, and I gripped the side of the sink hard. I could feel her warmth spreading through me, knitting together the damage that had been done.

“There,” she said, “that will help, but you’re going to be taking it gently for a few days. We’re going to have to rethink a few things. If Amber has been shadowing you then Garvin probably knows more than we anticipated. That has implications for whoever he’s sharing that information with.

“Amber knows about the horseshoes, but I think that’s as far as it goes,” I said.

“Unless she’s been spying on us all along,” suggested Blackbird. She helped me sit and then returned to the bedroom. I could hear her thanking Lesley and ushering Angela out, telling them that I needed rest and that she would deal with matters in the morning. When she came back in, she was holding our son, who reached out his hands to me. “He wants you,” she said.

I took him from her gingerly, conscious of the tenderness in my newly healed flank. As I took him from her it sent shooting pains down my side, but it was bearable. Whatever Blackbird had done had definitely helped. He was only in a nappy and vest and as I took him he laid his head on my shoulder. It seemed to me that he’d picked up some of his mother’s anxiety and wanted to see for himself that I was OK. I held him while Blackbird tossed the rest of my ruined clothes into the bath and soaked the flannels she used to clean me up in a sink of cold water. She shook her head as she watched the water change colour.

“This life…” she said, addressing my reflection in the mirror. “It’s not what he needs. He needs stability and love, room to grow.”

“We’re getting there,” I said.

“He needs a father that comes home, preferably not soaked in his own blood,” she said, looking down into the spreading cloud of pink water in the sink.

“I’ll be more careful in future,” I said.

“While you work for Garvin, there will always be risks,” she said.

“Everything is a risk. Crossing the road is a risk, taking a taxi is a risk. I could be struck by lightning.” She frowned. “OK, that was a bad example.”

“Taking a taxi doesn’t get you shot, though,” she pointed out, not unreasonably. “And while crossing the road may be hazardous, the drivers aren’t usually actively trying to kill you.”

“Amber says I’m doing better than some,” I said. “I can only do what I can do.”

“Pity Sam didn’t try and shoot Amber instead,” she said. “Amber would have killed him.”

“He’s not himself. He’s still torn up about whatever was between him and Claire, and now there’s no chance of a getting back together.” I said. “He blames me for Claire’s death, and there’s little I can say to convince him that I didn’t kill her.”

“And so you let him shoot you. That seems very even-handed, I must say.”

“You’re not usually so keen on me killing people,” I pointed out. My son started shifting and grizzling against my chest. “Now he’s upset because you’re upset,” I said. “He’s picking up on your emotions.”

“And I’m upset because you could be dead.” She lifted him from me and cradled our son against her chest until he subsided into a low grizzle. “He’s just tired. I wanted to spend some time with him today, but it feels like it’s just slipped by without pause for breath.” She rocked him against her, shushing him slowly.

“He’s not the only one,” I said.

“You’re cross with yourself for letting Raffmir get the better of you,” she said. “You feel guilty at letting him kill Claire under your nose when you were supposed to be protecting her, but you’re forgetting that there were likely two of them and they had the advantage of surprise.”

“I’m a Warder, Blackbird. They’re not supposed to be able to surprise me.”

“Your problem is that you’re a good man,” she said. “You don’t think like they do.”

“Then perhaps I should learn to,” I said.

“No. It’s better that you don’t think like them,” she said. Our son nuzzled into her breast. “You can’t really be hungry,” she told him, “It’s just comfort you want, isn’t it?” She kissed his head and held him close, resting her head next to his and stroking his hair.

I shrugged, making my side twinge again. “I’m not sure any more. This is getting out of hand. People are dying because of us – because of what we’re doing.”

“And if we do nothing?” she asked. “How will that be better? Should we stand by as the courts select who will live and who will die from the few gifted humans that come forward?

“I don’t know,” I said. “Why can’t they just let them be?”

“Like they let Eve be? Or should we wait until the next angry teenager gets hold of something they shouldn’t “ she said. “It’s got beyond that, Niall, and we both know it.”

“Then what?” I asked.

“A sanctuary,” she said. “We need somewhere that the gifted can be, away from humanity and away from the Feyre. We need to find our own way,” she looked down at our son, “and come to terms with what we are. When we have the Eighth Court, Niall, I want you to think about retiring.”

“What?”

“I want you to think about resigning from your post as a Warder. I think Garvin would let you go, and if you have a court of your own then you don’t need to be a Warder to receive the protection of the courts.”

“You forget, at the moment, as far as the Eighth Court is concerned, I am the protection of the courts.”

“Garvin places you in harm’s way. One mistake and… I don’t want to think about it, Niall. We’ve come so far together. I can do this alone if I have to, but I don’t want to.”

I stood, making it as confident a move as I could, and wrapped my arms around her and my son, kissing him, and her. “You won’t have to,” I said.

She rested her head against me. “I wish I was as confident.”

After a moment, she stirred. “Let’s put this one to bed. You need to rest or you’ll be good for nothing tomorrow. Your body needs rest or you won’t heal.”

“I feel better than I did,” I said.

She gave me a look that implied that wasn’t saying much. Taking our son through to the adjoining room, she settled him down while I crawled into bed. I felt wrung out and literally drained. I wondered whether I should drink some more water before I slept, but I was too exhausted to get up and get some. I lay in bed until she turned out the light and crawled in beside me, nestling into the crook of my arm.