Blood & Magic (16 page)

Saturday morning began much as the previous day had, with a rude awakening. Ruth had been standing on the bed when Henry opened his eyes and had rained down several blows before he had managed to stumble out of the duvet and collect his thoughts enough to block her. He hadn't been successful. Ruth had then attempted to get Henry to use a series of ‘free weights’ she had brought with her, with the hope of building up some muscle on his scrawny frame. She woeuld have her work cut out there.

Henry had bruises in places that he had never really considered could hurt so much: the joints of his knees, the side of his neck, and she had landed one infuriatingly painful blow across his chest which had made his nipples feel like they were on fire. She had tried the windup tactic again, but it hadn't worked, he knew what the game was now. When they were finished, instead of leaving him in peace, Ruth remained in the flat. She cooked a ridiculously large fry-up, sourcing ingredients from the corner shop while Henry showered, and then insisted that he ate the entirety of it. 'Eat, Eat!' she constantly proclaimed. It was like being stuck at an eccentric old aunt's house for dinner and her demanding you eat too much food because you are a 'growing lad'.

At around 9am, Gabriel showed up. He looked well rested, flaunting the fact at Henry, who probably looked like he was battling a hangover, without ever benefiting from the good time the night before.

“You have got a fun weekend ahead of you,” Gabriel said.

That was almost certainly
not
what Henry had ahead of him.

“Oh yes of course my lovely,” Ruth said. “Exciting, isn't it?”

“
What
is exciting?” Henry said.

“Training at the Inquisition. The idea is to bring you up to speed with what we like to call 'Bootcamp'. You will be introduced to your Inquisitor companion who will take charge of the more… practical aspects of your education,” Gabriel said.

“My companion, like I'm at an AA meeting?” Henry said, sarcastically.

“No, you only go to an AA meeting a lot later on darling. When the stress of it all gets to you and you have to drink yourself silly to calm your nerves,” Ruth said.

Henry tried to gauge from Ruth’s expression if that was meant as a joke, but, as usual, he could’t tell.

“Is this really a whole weekend affair?” Henry said. “I’ve been working all week and had quite a stressful Wednesday night, a little rest and relaxation would really be appreciated.”

“He is a funny one, isn't he Gabe?” Ruth said.

“
Hilarious
.”

“Quick bit of background for you,” Gabriel said. “Each country's Inquisition has a high master and in our case, that's Wade. At some point this weekend, you'll be introduced to the Doyens, who are masters of particular aspects of what it means to be an alternate. For example, Meyer is a master mentalist and
was
the Doyen of Mentalism, until-”

“The doyens and Inquisitors make up the council,” Ruth said, interrupting him. What had Meyer done? Henry made a note to find out when Ruth wasn’t about.

“The council decides the work each Inquisitor takes on and make the big decisions for the entire order. When you meet them, promise me you’ll
try
to make a good impression,” Gabriel said.

After breakfast, the three made the walk towards Holborn Bars. Left alone on High Holborn, Henry faced the unenviable task of getting into the home of the Inquisition.

Unfortunately, finding the place was like trying to sail through the Bermuda triangle, blindfolded, while a gaggle of beautiful woman caught your attention one way, and a torrent of waves diverted you another. It was half past nine when Ruth and Gabriel left him, with a warning that training started at eleven. Henry thought this quite a big safety net of time, he was geographically only about two minutes from the place and so, even with the distraction fields, it shouldn't take him longer than half an hour to get in.

He was mistaken.

By the eighth attempt, having found himself walking down leather lane for the fifth time, he knew he was going about it wrong.

What had been Gabriel’s advice? Focus on getting there, not how you get there. Why was everything in this damn world such a mystery, nobody could just say what they meant. He decided to try and visualise the place, as vividly as he could, as to not lose it from his mind due to the distraction field. The old metal gas lamps would be a blur in the morning fog, distorted even further in the reflections of the skylights that surrounded the courtyard. Henry pictured himself by the side of the glass dome, having walked straight into the building. He had to focus on the goal, not the journey. At ten-fifty, with his number of attempts beyond count, it finally worked. Henry felt excitement and pride beyond anything he had experienced in years, and all because he had managed to walk into a building. What was his life becoming?

“You made it!” Ruth said.

“Just in time,” Gabriel said, looking at his watch. “I don’t believe you had actually been introduced to Tristan yet?”

The muscled man with the sculpted beard from the previous day stood forward, offering his hand to Henry. He shook it, feeling Tristan’s strong grip crushing his fingers.

“You are leading the investigation into my Mark’s death, right?” Henry said.

“Yes, but I have very little news to tell you I’m afraid,” Tristan said. “The body appears to have been taken by Deliverance, who we believe are behind his murder. Trust me, once I determine what happened you will be the first to know.”

Like hell he would.

“Shall we get down to business then?” Tristan said.

Tristan led Henry, Gabriel and Ruth up the main marble staircase and along the corridor that ran along the perimeter of the courtyard. They stopped at a catwalk that connected the main courtyard to a secondary one, which was blocked off from the other corridor.

“This is where we will start your training. I want to get a basis on your skill level, so we are going to start with a simple exercise,” Tristan said. “Take off your jacket and jumper. Physical training is the easiest place to learn how to access your genetic memories and once we unlock the basics, the rest should follow. Then it is just keeping you in shape, but that unfortunate task falls to Ruth.”

“The boy doesn't eat a thing!” Ruth said.

“You force fed me a million calories for breakfast,” Henry said, in an unfortunately whining tone.

“
Enough
,” Tristan said.

“When will you teach me how to use magic?” Henry said.

“That will come, but you need to understand how to access your memories first. Gabriel, is he always this obstinate?” Tristan said.

“He's usually worse,” Gabriel said, winking at Henry.

Henry took off his jacket and jumper, then rolled up his sleeves. Raising his hands in what he assumed was a fighting stance, he squared his body toward Tristan in a pose that was anything but natural to him.

“We will start with a simple game called Dodge. The quickness of the action should kick off your reflexes,” Tristan said.

“One question, before we begin, if you don't mind?” Henry said.

“What?”

“Why haven't I always been able to do this?”

“What?”

“You know, do all this... stuff?”

“Use your powers? Or fight, because I am yet to see if you can do that. Inquisitors can only have one active member in a bloodline at a time. When one family member dies, their descendant is activated and the genetic memories transferred. It is why we are concerned with family trees ending abruptly, so your training is essential to your survival. Can we begin now?” Tristan said.

Tristan moved to the side of the room and, assisting Ruth from her seat, the pair took long wooden sticks from a side cabinet. He moved around so that he was at one end of the corridor, leaving Henry standing between him and Ruth.

“So how do we-” Henry started to say, but before he could finish, Tristan and Ruth ran at him. Tristan swung the stick, sweeping it downwards as Henry attempted to dodge, but his body didn't react in time. The stick hit him straight across the nose, the residual force sending him crashing onto his back.

“Bloody hell. Damn it,” Henry cried.

Henry sat up, holding his nose, as blood poured down his shirt and onto the wooden floor. His eyes watering from the pain, everything around him became a blur. He could just about make out the orbicular shape of Ruth as she bent down and pulled his hands away from his face.

“You’ve broken it,” Ruth said.

“Oh for Christ's sake,” Tristan said.

“One moment my dear,” Ruth said. “
Et ossa tua liberabit fulciretur
.”

Henry felt heat across his nose, followed by a disturbingly loud crack as his cartilage moved back into place. The temperature beneath his skin spiked with the noise, subsiding to nothing a few moments later as his body tried to catch up with what had happened. His nose still hurt, but the blood had stopped pouring, which, by the look on Tristan's face, was enough for them to carry on.

Ruth retreated to one end of the catwalk and Henry braced himself for the second try. He felt the chances of it being any better were slim. Tristan charged and, swinging the stick above his head, brought it sharply down in a sweeping motion so that it collided with Henry's shin. Henry didn't move in time and lost his balance, falling straight to his knees. Ruth was still coming and didn't stop, her stick connected with Henry's back, propelling him a short distance across the floor.

“Bloody hell,” Henry said, before Ruth cuffed his ear for his language.

“You need to let your body take over,” Tristan said.

“He isn't good at that, always over thinks everything,” Ruth said.

“How exactly do I not think about it then?” Henry said.

“Just don't think, calm your mind,” Tristan said.

That was easy for him to say, he wasn't having a stick levelled at his face every five seconds.

They tried again and, as much as Henry tried not to think, he couldn't help it. Tristan spun his stick and caught the bottom of his jaw. Henry heard a crack and all his teeth shook in his mouth as he was lifted off his feet. Another repetition, another fail, Ruth coming in with blow and blow, striking his stomach and sending him crashing to the floor in a heap. Pain spasmed across his back, his head whipping back a second later as an instant migraine splintered through Henry’s brain.

Ruth came across and healed him,
again
, but this time Henry found his eyes wouldn't stop watering even after she finished. He looked a mess and, even through the uncontrollable tears, it was apparent how furious Tristan was becoming.

“Are you putting this on? How can you
not
get this?” Tristan said.

“I'm not trying to be difficult, I just-”

“You will be dead in days at this rate. You are by far the
worst
student I have ever had the displeasure of teaching.”

“Hang on Tristan, let's cool down a bit. I've got an idea,” Gabriel said.

He fished around in his jacket pocket and produced a small iPod, white headphones wrapped around it.

“Dance,” Gabriel said, smirking. “Let yourself go with the music. When you trained with Ruth yesterday, how did you eventually manage to do anything half useful? When you didn’t think about it. Look Henry, we can’t carry on like this or you’ll be in no fit state to do anything and I can’t think of a better way.”

“I don't dance and I certainly don't-”

“Let yourself go? No, I doubted you would. You need to not concentrate on what you are doing and this will be a good distraction, unless you want to continue getting beat up?”

“I’m not-”

“It's a great idea Gab,” Ruth said. “I bet he looks like a stick insect in a frying pan.”

“Look,” Henry said. “I’m-”

“Suppose anything could help and we haven’t got all day. Henry, take it,” Tristan said.

Henry grudgingly took the headphones from Gabriel, who chose a track for him. The music started and he tried to get the image of Tristan, Ruth and Gabriel watching him, out of his head. He pictured he was back at his flat, dancing away to Taylor Swift while doing the ironing. Because that wasn’t embarrassing at all…

Henry danced.

Embodying a giraffe with hiccups, he moved to the awful racket that was apparently 'dubstep' music. It took a few minutes to get into it, but at last, he was ready.

The music absorbed Henry's thoughts and he let all his concentration focus on it, all he had to remember was not to close his eyes: he had to give the automatic actions a chance. Tristan charged and swung the stick at head height. Focused on the music, Henry felt his body stretch backward as the stick passed above his head. Ruth was straight in with a downward strike aimed for his chest, but Henry simply sidestepped it. Tristan swung again and Henry found his arm raising to deflect it as he diverted the stick towards the ground. Ruth came back around to strike, as Tristan came at him too. Henry stepped backwards at the last moment, forcing Ruth’s and Tristan's attacks to hit one another with thunderous sound.

“How was that?” Henry said.

He had done it, again, by some miracle. He had to admit how amazing it was, his body reacting in reflex, taking care of him without active thought. It had the potential to be such a powerful skill, but probably not in Henry’s hands.

“Better, if a little unorthodox,” Tristan said.

“Problem is my dear, I think completely distracting yourself like that isn't a good thing, especially in the field,” Ruth said.

“Agreed. You can do it, this exercise has shown that. Let's run through it again, this time without the music. Channel the mind-set you were in,” Tristan said.

Two hours and a lot more fractured bones later, Tristan finally called a stop to training. Escorting Henry to a series of lockers, he produced a black t-shirt and tracksuit bottoms for him to wear, which Henry changed into without question after taking a shower. Mildly refresh, he followed Tristan up the stairs to a long kitchen, a large copper pan bullying away on the stove. Grabbing a plate of something that looked like stew, they walked through into a dining room and sat with the others.