Grace and Noah seemed to be taking an inordinately long time to be making a simple pot of coffee, and as Harry and Stella wandered off to converse in low tones by the fire, Jack slipped over to sit next to Weyland.
“Weyland,” Jack said.
Weyland gave a soft grunt.
“Weyland. For your sake, I am sorry that Noah and I had to make the Great Marriage.”
Weyland shot him a look full of cynicism.
“Believe it or not,” Jack said, “I am sorry for it. Weyland…” He hesitated, wondering how to put what he wanted to say into words, and wondering just what it was he wanted to say, in the first instance.
“Jack, just leave it.”
“Weyland—”
“Leave it.”
They lapsed into an uncomfortable silence.
Finally Jack cleared his throat. “May I ask you something? It isn’t about Noah.”
“If you must.”
“Weyland…you spent thousands of years trying to kill me and steal the kingship bands so that you could control the Troy Game. Can I assume that you have Kingman powers? That you have Kingman knowledge? That if you did have the kingship bands, and Noah, that you could step fully into the shoes of the Kingman?”
“Oh, my, what a loaded question. How should I answer?”
“Honestly, if you please.”
“Then I will. Yes, I could do it. I do not have precise Kingman training, but on the other hand I lived so long in the heart of the labyrinth that I have absorbed many of its secrets. I could not do it prettily—perhaps you might offer me further training—but do it I could. Remember also that I would bring my Darkcraft behind whatever I could do as Kingman. I could be a very, very effective—and somewhat bleak—Kingman. Jack, why do you ask?”
“I don’t know. I don’t have any precise reason. I guess I’m just doing what all good generals do and working out precisely what my weapons are.” He paused, drawing on his cigarette. “But think…here we are, surrounded by so many Mistresses of the Labyrinth. It just helps, I guess, to know that there are two Kingmen. Three, actually, with my father.”
FOUR
Epping Forest
Friday, May 10th 1940
Jack was walking home through the forest, so completely absorbed in the exciting news that Noah could sense the weakness that he was completely shocked when the figure of a tall, slim, dark-haired woman appeared before him on the forest path.
“Grace?”
As soon as the word left his mouth, Jack knew it wasn’t Grace. Her hair was too long, and he’d never seen Grace wear a long black dress.
“Of course not,” said Catling. “How could you possibly confuse us?”
“How indeed,” said Jack. Had Catling witnessed everything that had happened within Faerie Hill Manor?
“You’ve been visiting with Harry,” said Catling. “Noah was there, too.”
“Yes,” said Jack, watching Catling with careful eyes.
“You’ve made the Great Marriage with her.”
“Yes.” Jack was trying hard to retain his composure. Catling must want to know why they didn’t move to complete her, and he started to formulate excuses in his mind.
Catling moved forward, scurried forward, and Jack took an involuntary step backwards. “Was the sex good, Jack? Was the fuck worth the wait?”
“Yes,” Jack said, his voice quiet, his eyes still. “It was.”
Catling studied him keenly, her eyes narrowed. “Then you must be in a very good mood.”
“I was until but a moment ago.”
“What’s up, Jack?”
“In what sense?”
“What are you planning?”
“Can I be honest?”
“Please do.”
“I’d like to find a way to destroy you, but it is proving damnably elusive.”
“Then complete me instead.”
“I’ll need to fetch the bands of Troy to do that.”
“Then fetch them, Jack.”
“They’re in the Faerie, and—”
“I know full well where they are. Four are in the Faerie and two are in the Otherworld. What I don’t want to hear are your excuses for not fetching them. Jack, I am going to be honest with you here. I know you and Noah wish to destroy me, so you’re desperately grubbing about, trying to find a means. Ah, let me rephrase that. I am sure you have a means—a Kingman and a Mistress of the Labyrinth can always unwind what they have created—but you can’t figure out a way past the hex I’ve put on Grace. So you’re trying to find the means to destroy me that won’t also result in Grace’s death, as well as that of the Faerie, and everything else she has touched, and so on and so forth. Am I right thus far?”
Jack didn’t respond.
“Yes,” said Catling. “I am right. Now, I am a reasonable person, and I know I’ve put you and Noah in a spot—poor Grace, pitiful Grace—but reasonableness can only go so far before it is quite overtaken by impatience. After all, I have waited an awfully long time for completion…I don’t want to have to wait too much longer. So here’s the deal, Jack. You take all the time you want, but know that the longer you take, the more people will suffer—”
“The murders. You’ve set the imps to murdering—”
“And that will stop once I am completed, Jack. I’ll be in such a good mood I’ll corral those imps once and for all. But it will get a great deal worse if you don’t complete me. It is up to you, Jack, and your conscience.”
Catling gave a small, terrible smile. “Just think…every death that results from your pitiful, fruitless hunt for a means to destroy me and save Grace shall rest on your conscience. If you think it is okay for a few more women to die terribly as either Bill or Jim rips their bellies apart…” Catling shrugged, “then you will have to live with it. And if your conscience can deal with those murders, then maybe I’ll escalate it a little further. Take the horror into new fields, so to speak. I can’t force you to complete me, Jack, but I can make this land suffer terribly for your tardiness.”
She paused, letting her words sink in.
“I’m sure Grace is worth all those lives, right? All the terror and suffering the innocent will endure?”
Then she vanished, and Jack was left staring, his stomach churning.
Catling seethed through the spaces under London, finally giving her anger full rein.
Jack was looking for a way to destroy her.
Oh, she knew he would, had been certain from the moment that Noah turned bad that Jack would eventually turn as well, but she hated it that he was trying to find a means to undo her.
Where would he be without her? A shifting pile of cold grey bone dust by now, that’s where. Everything he was was due to her intervention.
And he’d become too strong. Too strong.
Catling was vulnerable. She needed to feed, needed to grow strong. Needed to be sure that she could outmanoeuvre whatever he threw at her and, knowing Jack, it would be the unexpected.
She needed to know what he was doing.
Catling found the imps loitering in Covent Garden, shadowing a young woman carrying a basket of vegetables.
“Well?” she said, so startling Bill and Jim they almost stumbled from the footpath into the way of a passing lorry.
Its horn blaring, the lorry thundered past as Catling pulled them both to the relative safety of the footpath.
“Leave the girl for the moment,” Catling said. “You can always find another later. Victims are a dime a dozen in this city. I want to know what you’ve discovered. What is Jack doing, wandering all about London?”
Jim and Bill exchanged a glance, then looked back to Catling.
“He’s looking for a weakness,” said Bill. “Something to pry open and make you bleed to death.”
“And has he found it?”
Bill smiled. “No. All he has found is strength, but he is too foolish to see that.”
Catling visibly relaxed. “I am too strong for him.”
“Aye,” said Jim, “that you are.”
“He is weak,” said Catling. “He has a conscience.”
“Very foolish,” said Jim.
“His conscience will drive him into my arms eventually,” said Catling.
“Absolutely,” said Bill.
“You still enjoying the murders?” said Catling. “No doubt about it,” said the imps simultaneously, their faces splitting in wide grins. “Good,” said Catling.
FIVE
London
Late May, 1940
GRACE SPEAKS
I had been feeling so much happier, almost positive, and then doubts crept back in. I was unsettled and depressed by the Great Marriage. I had told myself—and Jack—that it was because I didn’t want him destroying that fragile balance of our world and that I didn’t want him destroying my parents’ own peace, but as the days and then the weeks dragged on after May Day I had to admit to myself that there was more to it. I couldn’t bear the thought of my mother sleeping with Jack, and my aversion to the idea had nothing at all to do with whether or not Jack would destroy any fragile balances, or what my father felt about it.