Half Bad

The Hunters must have found the cut but they wouldn’t have been able to get off the roof if they came through that way. They will have worked out where the cottage is, though; they’d be able to do that. And then they came up the valley. They must have only been a bit ahead of me. And then another thought hits me: if they captured Gabriel and tortured him he would tell them where the valley was …

 

 

I can’t think about that. I have to find Mercury. I have to head to the shots. Mercury must be there. There’s a swirling cloud in the valley below me, towards the glacier. A flash of lightning shoots out of it. It’s her.

 

But first I have to see if Annalise is here. I don’t know how much time I have left. Not long.

 

In the cottage everything is neat and tidy. My things are as I left them. So are Gabriel’s. He’s not been back.

 

I check the bedrooms.

 

I don’t know what I expected but I was hoping Annalise would at least be here. She’s not. Mercury must have taken her to her castle, and I don’t know where that is. Is she still asleep? Maybe she woke her … but I know she won’t have done.

 

I put on my jacket and look at the clock in the kitchen. I can work out the time if I try hard enough.

 

It’s later than I thought. Just a bit more than ten minutes to midnight. I think that’s right.

 

Or just a bit less. I’ll reach Mercury in time if I run.

 

I dash outside and take two steps in the direction of the shots. Then I am stopped; I can’t move forward.

 

The snow is falling around me but the flakes are slowing too … and then they stop. The snowflakes hang in the blackness of the night air.

 

Everything around me has stopped and all I can do is drop to my knees in thanks.

 

 

 

 

 

three gifts

 

 

My father.

 

I know it’s him. Only he can make time stop.

 

And I’m kneeling in stillness and silence. There are snowflakes hanging in the air, veils upon veils, and the ground around me is snow-covered and grey in the gloom. I can’t even see the forest ahead of me.

 

And then there’s a gap.

 

Him.

 

A darker figure in the darkness, flakes of snow hanging in front of him.

 

He comes closer, flicking a snowflake out of his way with his finger and blowing another gently as he breathes out. He comes closer still, walking not flying, the snow up to his knees.

 

He stops in front of me, sweeps the snow away with a sideways kick and comes down to my level, sitting cross-legged a few arm-lengths away.

 

I can’t see his face, only his silhouette. I think he’s in a suit.

 

‘Nathan, at last.’

 

His voice is calm and sounds like mine only more … thoughtful.

 

‘Yes,’ I say, and my voice doesn’t sound like mine but like a little boy’s.

 

‘I’ve wanted us to meet. For a long time I’ve wanted that,’ he says.

 

‘And I’ve wanted it too.’ Then I add, ‘For seventeen years.’

 

‘Is that what it is? Seventeen years …’

 

‘Why didn’t you come before now?’

 

‘You’re angry with me.’

 

‘A little.’

 

He nods.

 

‘Why didn’t you come before?’ I sound pathetic but I’m so exhausted that I don’t care.

 

‘Nathan, you are just seventeen. That’s very young. When you’re older you’ll realize that time can move differently. Slower sometimes … faster occasionally.’ He circles his arm round now and swirls the snowflakes until they form a strange sort of galaxy that drifts up and up until it disappears.

 

And it’s amazing. Watching my father, his power. My father, here, so close to me. But still, he should have come years ago.

 

‘I don’t care how time moves. I said, why didn’t you come before now?’

 

‘You are my son and I expect a certain amount of respect from you …’ He seems to breathe in and then out with a long exhalation that disperses a few more snowflakes hovering low to the ground in front of him.

 

‘And you are my father and I expect a certain amount of responsibility from you.’

 

He makes a sort of laugh. ‘Responsibility?’ His head inclines to the right and then straightens again. ‘It’s not a word I’m used to dealing with … And you? Are you familiar with respect at all?’

 

I hesitate but say, ‘Not that much up to now.’

 

He waits, picks up some snow and sprinkles it from his fingers.

 

He says, ‘Mercury was going to give you three gifts, I assume.’

 

‘Yes.’

 

‘What did she want in return?’

 

‘Some information.’

 

‘That sounds cheap for Mercury.’

 

‘She wanted something else as well.’

 

‘Let me guess … It’s not hard: she wanted my demise. Mercury is very predictable.’

 

‘I’ve no intention of killing you. I told her that.’

 

‘And she accepted it?’

 

‘She seemed to think I’d change my mind.’

 

‘Ah! I’m sure she would have fun trying to change it.’

 

‘You believe me then? I won’t kill you.’

 

‘I’m not sure what to believe yet.’

 

And I’m not sure what to say. You never ask someone to give you three gifts. Never. And I cannot ask him but if he has come now, on my seventeenth birthday, then he must be here for that. Surely?

 

‘What information did she want?’

 

‘Stuff about the Council and my tattoos. I haven’t told her anything.’