She, her hands splayed across her belly, saying, “We have made a daughter between us, Brutus. A daughter-heir.”
And he had replied, so damned sure of himself, “You have blessed me.”
Then came Cornelia, rushing into the megaron, her belly gently rounded out with the daughter she had been carrying, and discovering her husband and Genvissa.
And he, Brutus, had looked over to Cornelia, and laughed.
“Yes,” said Catling. “You do remember, don’t you? You made me that night. Both within the labyrinth on Og’s Hill and on that pile of furs with Genvissa.”
“I don’t believe it.”
“Why not? It makes sense enough, surely. I was supposed to have become flesh incarnate when Genvissa gave birth to me…but then Asterion,” her voice hardened into implacable hatred, “gave Cornelia that dagger with which to murder Genvissa, and my fleshly body, with it. I hated Genvissa for failing to carry me to term. So I picked Cornelia as my Mistress of the Labyrinth, and later used her—and you—to finally arrive into flesh. Better late than never.”
Jack tried to make sense of what she was saying. “But why choose Cornelia to then become your Mistress of the Labyrinth? She had ruined your chances when she murdered Genvissa. Surely you must have loathed her.”
“And still do,” said Catling, “but I saw that Cornelia would grow into a powerful Darkwitch, and goddess, and that she would be the best Mistress of the Labyrinth I could hope for. Besides, it makes a pretty revenge, don’t you think? Choosing the woman who had briefly stymied me to then bear me, and complete me. It fulfils a nice circle.”
She paused. “You’re thinking of unwinding me, aren’t you?”
“Would you blame me?” said Jack.
“You can’t unwind me, Jack. Think to harm me and I will make Grace suffer so badly she will wish herself dead. And if Grace suffers, then all this land,” she hissed the last word, “will suffer with her. Hate me all you want, but you will not destroy me.”
Jack did hate her at that moment. He hated her so much that he literally swayed forward, his hands half raised, determined to do her unto death.
“Besides,” Catling said, “you are my creator and my father, Jack. It is impossible for you to destroy me.”
Then she stepped back, and laughed. “You and your pretty god pretensions. I care not for what magic markings you have all over your skin…” Her hand waved dismissively, and Jack felt his marks burn and slide, as if they were trying to escape her presence. “All I need is for you to do one thing—dance the Dance of the Flowers with Noah, and complete me. You’ll never escape me, you’ll never destroy me, so you may as well succumb to the inevitable and complete me. It will be sweeter for you, in the end.”
Then she stabbed a finger at him. “If you try to harm me, Jack, then I will take this land and destroy it. I will burn it. And then I will do the same to the Faerie. Hark!” She put her hand to her ear in a parody of a pantomime gesture. “What is that I hear? The drone of bombers? The whistle of bombs? The shriek of flesh tearing? The—”
“Shut up, you vicious crone!”
Catling smiled at that, and stepped back. “I can’t be undone, Jack. Accept it.”
Then she was gone, and Jack was left alone, save for the soft footfalls of the cathedral Watch treading about the crypt.
Twenty minutes later, when he finally felt strong enough to leave the cathedral, Jack leaned against the Austin parked in Paternoster Row, and sent an urgent appeal to Harry.
Catling stood in the dark heart of the labyrinth, very still. Nothing moved, not a hair on her head, not a finger, not a fold of her cold, silken skirt.
She was disgusted with herself.
She’d overreacted, threatened, made a scene.
Made a fool of herself.
All because Jack had been so much more than she’d expected.
It wasn’t the power. Not really. Jack now combined his Kingman abilities with those of Ringwalker. Catling had expected him to be powerful.
What she hadn’t expected was for Jack to be so calm. So still. So at peace with himself.
That wasn’t the man she’d relied on speaking to this night. That wasn’t the man she’d known as Brutus, and then William, then Louis. Those men had been fractured, unsure.
They could never have harmed Catling.
But Jack was something different. Different enough to give Catling considerable pause. Different enough to reduce her to childish threats.
Catling was willing to admit to herself that it had been a mistake, perhaps, to leave Noah and Jack alone for so many centuries. They had become so powerful. As just Mistress and Kingman they would have been so much more manageable…but, oh, as just Mistress and Kingman, without any of the powers of the land they now brought with them, Catling herself would have been so much lesser. It’s just that Catling had never thought they’d develop so greatly on their own. Well, it was too late now. Catling would just need to ensure she stayed one step ahead of Jack and Noah.
She was glad to have discovered Jack’s strength so early. It might have been disastrous if the first she knew of it was on the day he thought to try to destroy her.
Despite her extravagant threats to Jack, Catling wasn’t entirely sure she was totally invulnerable. After all, she still hadn’t been completed, and total invulnerability would only come after that event. It was better not to underestimate Jack. Catling liked to anticipate possible attacks and challenges—that was why she had tied Grace by hex once Catling realised Noah would move against her. Even as Mistress, Darkwitch and goddess combined, Noah may not have been able to destroy her, but Catling just liked to make sure.
It would be best to make sure now, too.
Finally Catling moved, just slightly. A tongue, running briefly about her upper lip. Eyes, cast upwards, as if she could see through all the layers of earth and rubble and stone and marble to the sky overhead.
It was coming. War. Pain. Horror. Destruction raining down on London. Everything Catling could ever have wanted, because she could feed from the devastation, grow strong on the pain and the horror, gobble and wax fat on the terror. Grow robust enough to thwart whatever means Jack and Noah used to attack her.
But the horror wasn’t here yet. Oh, the war had started, and the horror was on its way. But it wasn’t here yet.
Catling hoped Jack wasn’t in any hurry to either attack her, or complete her, because Catling needed all the strength she could muster in order to outwit him.
NINE
Faerie Hill Manor
Sunday, 10th September 1939
Noah jumped, then looked at Stella and Harry sitting on the leather chesterfield. “The car. He’s here.”
Harry and Stella shared a glance, then Harry sighed, and stood up. “I’ll let him in.”
“Stella,” Noah said, “do you know what has happened?” Noah knew Jack’s final marking had been planned for last night, and she had not been surprised when the Lord of the Faerie had sent her a summons a couple of hours previously to meet with him and Jack at Faerie Hill at dawn.
Noah had been so tense about Jack’s marking she had spent the night wandering the Faerie with Eaving’s Sisters. Now she wondered if that had been a good idea. Obviously something else had happened.
Perhaps she should have attended the marking.
“I have no idea,” said Stella. “Only a half hour ago Harry asked me to meet him here.” She glanced at her watch. “There’s only an hour and a half until sunrise. I can’t stay long.”
Noah looked over to the chesterfield sofa, where Silvius was now also sitting, having arrived a few minutes previously. If Jack had asked both his father and Stella to come…then something must be wrong.
“Silvius?” Noah said. “Do you have any idea?”
Silvius shook his head. “I just received the summons. I came. I don’t know what’s happening.”
“Perhaps I should ring home,” Noah said, looking at the telephone. “See if Weyland and Grace are—”
“Noah, calm down,” Silvius said. “I am certain if there was an impending disaster Jack would have let us know.”
“And maybe that’s why we’re here now,” Noah said, her voice edgy.
At that moment Jack walked into the room, Harry close behind.
Noah sprang to her feet. “Jack?”
Jack nodded, including everyone in that greeting, then looked to Harry. “Thank you for getting everyone here. Well, almost. Where is—”
“I don’t know,” said Harry. “She should be here.”
“Ariadne was delayed slightly,” said Silvius. “She will be here shortly.”
Noah’s and Stella’s eyes widened at Ariadne’s name, and Jack frowned slightly at his father. He wondered how it was Silvius knew of Ariadne’s invitation, let alone the fact she was delayed.