Emerald Green (31 page)

Immortal.

I’d refused to believe what Gideon said at first, because it was so absurd, and my life seemed about to collapse under the sheer weight of all these complications anyway. My mind just wouldn’t face facts.

But deep inside, I’d known that
Gideon was right as soon as he said it: Lord Alastair’s sword had killed me. I had felt the pain and watched what little life was left in me simply drain away. I had drawn my last breath—and here I was, alive and well.

The subject of immortality had kept us talking all the rest of the evening. After the first shock, there was no stopping Lesley and Xemerius, in particular.

“Does that mean she’ll
never get any wrinkles?”

“Suppose an eight-ton concrete block falls on you, would you have to live forever squashed as flat as a postage stamp?”

“Maybe you’re not really immortal, you just have nine lives, like a cat.”

“If someone put out one of her eyes, would it grow back?”

Gideon didn’t know the answers to any of these questions, but that didn’t bother anyone much. We’d probably have gone
on all night if Mum hadn’t come in and sent Lesley and Gideon home. She was firm about it. “Don’t forget, you were still sick only yesterday, Gwyneth,” she told me. “I want you to get a good night’s sleep.”

A good night’s sleep—as if I could think of sleeping after a day like this! And there was still so much to discuss!

I went downstairs with Gideon and Lesley to say good night at the front
door. Lesley, like the good friend she is, took the hint at once and went a little way ahead, looking as if she was making an urgent phone call. (I heard her telling her dog, “Hi, Bertie, I’m on my way home.”) Xemerius wasn’t so considerate. He dangled upside down from the roof of the porch, chanting, “Necking in the porch, fit to make it scorch. If things get too hot, I shall laugh a lot.”

Finally, and reluctantly, I’d said good night to Gideon and gone back to my room, firmly intending to spend all night thinking, phoning, and making plans. But I thought I’d just lie down on my bed for a few minutes first, and then I fell fast asleep. It must have been the same with the others. When I woke in the morning, I didn’t see a single missed call on the display of my mobile.

I looked accusingly
at Xemerius, who had curled up at the end of my bed and was now stretching and yawning. “You might have woken me!”

“Am I your alarm clock, O immortal mistress?”

“I thought ghosts—I mean demons—didn’t need any sleep.”

“Maybe we don’t
need
it,” said Xemerius, “but after such a hearty supper, I felt I could do with a little nap.” He wrinkled up his nose. “Like you could do with a shower right
now.”

He was right. All the others were asleep (it was Saturday, after all), so I could spend ages in the bathroom, using vast amounts of shampoo, shower gel, toothpaste, body lotion, and Mum’s antiwrinkle cream.

“Let me guess,” said Xemerius dryly later, when I came out and beamed at my own reflection in the mirror as I got dressed. “Life is wonderful, wonderful, wonderful, and you feel reborn—ha,
ha, ha!”

“That’s right. You know, all of a sudden, I seem to be seeing life through entirely new eyes—”

Xemerius snorted. “Maybe you think you’ve seen a great light, but it’s really just hormones. One day up in the clouds, the next day down in the dumps,” he said. “
Girls!
And this will go on for the next twenty or thirty years. Then, next thing we know, it’ll be all that change-of-life stuff.
Or come to think of it, maybe not with you. An immortal with a midlife crisis somehow doesn’t sound right.”

I gave him a forgiving smile. “You know, my little grouch, you’re really—” But the ring tone of my mobile interrupted me. It was Lesley, wanting to know when we were going to meet to stick the Martian costumes for Cynthia’s party together.

Party! How could she think of a thing like that
now? “Listen, Lesley, I’ve been thinking I may not go at all. So much has happened, and—”

“You
must
come. And you will.” Lesley obviously wasn’t taking no for an answer. “Because I organized company for us yesterday, and it would be very embarrassing if I had to call that off.”

I groaned. “Not your silly cousin again, and his friend who’s always farting, Lesley?” For a frightful moment, I imagined
a green garbage sack slowly inflating itself. “You promised, after last time, that you’d never do that again. I hope I don’t have to remind you of those chocolate marshmallows that—”

“How stupid do you think I am? I never make the same mistake twice, you know I don’t!” Lesley paused for a moment, and then went on, apparently unruffled. “On the way to the bus stop yesterday, I told Gideon about
the party. He positively insisted on coming with us.” Another little pause. “And his little brother too. So you can’t wriggle out of it now.”

“Lesley!” I could imagine exactly how that conversation had gone. Lesley was a brilliant manipulator. Gideon probably didn’t even know what had hit him.

“You can thank me later,” said Lesley, giggling. “Now we just have to think how to fix our costumes.
I’ve already stuck feelers into a green kitchen sieve—that’ll look good as a hat for a Martian. You can have it if you like.”

I groaned. “Oh, my God! Are you really asking me to go on my first official date with Gideon in a garbage sack with a kitchen sieve on my head?”

Lesley hesitated, but only for a moment. “It’s art! And witty. And it won’t cost us anything,” she explained. “Anyway, he’s
so crazy about you, he won’t mind at all.”

I could see I’d have to try a little more subtlety here. “Okay,” I said, pretending to be resigned to my plastic fate. “If you absolutely insist, we’ll go as Martian garbage men. You’re so cool! And I’m a little envious of you, because you couldn’t care less whether Raphael thinks girls with feelers and sieves on their heads are sexy. And you don’t mind
whether you crackle while you’re dancing and you’ll feel like … well, like a garbage sack. Or give off a faintly chemical smell … while Charlotte sweeps past us in her elf costume making snide remarks.”

Lesley didn’t reply for all of three seconds. Then she said slowly, “No, I don’t care in the least about any of that—”

“I know. Otherwise I’d have suggested letting Madame Rossini dress us. She
said she’d lend us anything she has that’s green. The kind of dresses that Grace Kelly and Audrey Hepburn wear in films. Charleston dance dresses from the golden twenties. Or ball gowns from—”

“Okay, okay,” Lesley interrupted me impatiently. “You hooked me when you said ‘Grace Kelly.’ So let’s forget the stupid garbage sacks. Do you think your Madame Rossini is awake yet?”

*   *   *

“
HOW DO
I LOOK
?” Mum pirouetted on her own axis. Since Mrs. Jenkins, the secretary at the Guardians’ Lodge, had phoned this morning asking her to come with me when I went to the Temple to elapse, she’d changed three times already.

“Great,” I said, without really looking. The limousine would be coming around the corner at any moment. Would Gideon be in it to collect me? Or would he be waiting for me at
the Guardians’ headquarters? Yesterday evening had ended far too suddenly. There was still so much we had to say to each other.

“If I may say so, I thought the blue outfit was better,” remarked Mr. Bernard, who was dusting the picture frames in the hall with a huge feather duster.

Mum ran straight upstairs again, calling back, “You’re right, Mr. Bernard! This one looks much too formal. Too elegant
for a Saturday afternoon. Goodness knows what he’d think. As if I’d prettified myself specially for him.”

I gave Mr. Bernard a reproachful smile. “Did you have to say that?”

“She did ask.” His brown eyes behind the owl-like glasses twinkled at me, but then he looked through the window in the front hall. “Ah, here comes the limousine. Shall I tell the driver he’ll have to wait a little while?
She’s not going to find the right shoes to go with the blue outfit in a hurry.”

“I’ll do it.” I put my bag over my shoulder. “See you later, Mr. Bernard. And please keep an eye on You Know Who.”

“Of course, Miss Gwyneth. You Know Who won’t get anywhere near you know what.” With a smile that you would hardly have noticed, he went back to his dusting.

No Gideon in the limousine. Instead it was
Mr. Marley, who had already opened the door of the car as I came out of the house. His moonface looked as disapproving as it ever had during the last few days. Maybe even more disapproving. And he said nothing at all in reply to my exuberant, “Isn’t this a wonderful spring day?”

“Where’s Mrs. Grace Shepherd?” he asked instead. “I have orders to deliver her to the Temple at once.”

“Sounds like
you were going to bring her up before the magistrates,” I said. If I’d known how close this flippant remark was to the facts, I wouldn’t have felt half as cheerful as I did when I settled into the back seat of the car.

Once Mum was finally ready, the drive to the Temple was quite fast for London conditions. We got stuck in only three traffic jams, it took us fifty minutes, and once again, I wondered
why we couldn’t simply take the Tube.

Mr. George met us at the entrance to the Guardians’ headquarters. I thought he was looking more serious than usual, and his smile somehow seemed forced. “Gwyneth, Mr. Marley will take you downstairs to elapse. Grace, you’re expected in the Dragon Hall.”

I looked inquiringly at Mum. “What do they want to see you for?”

Mum shrugged her shoulders, but she
suddenly looked tense.

Mr. Marley brought out the black silk scarf. “Come along, Miss Shepherd,” he said. He took my elbow, but let go of it again at once when he saw the look in my eyes. Lips tight, ears bright red, he growled, “Follow me. We have a very tight schedule today. I’ve already set the chronograph.”

I gave Mum an encouraging smile and then stumbled down the corridor after Mr. Marley.
He was setting a fast pace, and as usual, he was muttering to himself. He’d have run straight into Gideon around the next corner if Gideon hadn’t stepped aside in time.

“Morning, Marley,” he said casually, as Mr. Marley, a good deal too late, did a little jump. So did my heart, particularly as the sight of me made a smile about as wide as the eastern delta of the Ganges (at least!) spread over
Gideon’s face. “Hi, Gwenny, did you sleep well?” he asked affectionately.

“What are you doing up here?” snapped Mr. Marley. “You’re supposed to have been with Madame Rossini ages ago, getting into costume. We really do have a very tight schedule today, and Operation Black Tourmaline forward slash Sapph—”

“You just go on ahead, Marley,” Gideon told him in friendly tones. “Gwenny and I will catch
up with you in a couple of minutes. And after that, I can get into costume quickly. That’s no problem.”

“You’re not allowed to—” Mr. Marley began, but suddenly all the friendliness had disappeared from Gideon’s eyes, and they looked so chilly that Mr. Marley ducked his head.

“But you mustn’t forget to blindfold her,” he said, and then he handed Gideon the black scarf and hurried away.

Gideon
didn’t wait for him to be out of sight—he put his arms around me and kissed me hard on the mouth. “I’ve missed you so much.”

I was very glad Xemerius wasn’t there when I whispered, “Missed you too,” put my arms around his neck, and kissed him passionately back. Gideon pressed me against the wall, and we didn’t let go of each other until a picture fell down. An oil painting of a four-master sailing
ship in a storm at sea. Breathlessly, I tried to hang it back on its nail.

Gideon helped me. “I was going to call you yesterday evening, but then I thought your mother was right—you badly needed some sleep.”

“Yes, I did.” I leaned back against the wall again and grinned at him. “I hear we’re going to a party together this evening.”

Gideon laughed. “Yes, a foursome, with my little brother. Raphael
was very keen to go, especially when he heard that it was Lesley’s idea.” He stroked my cheek with his fingertips. “I somehow didn’t imagine our first date quite like that, but your friend can be very convincing.”

“Did she tell you it’s a costume party?”

Gideon shrugged his shoulders. “Nothing shocks me anymore.” His fingertips wandered down my cheeks to my throat. “We had so much … er … so
much to talk about yesterday evening.” He cleared his throat. “I’d love to hear all about your grandfather, and how on earth you managed to meet him. Or rather
when
you managed to meet him. And what does the book that Lesley kept holding up like the Holy Grail have to do with it?”

“Oh,
Anna Karenina
! I brought it with me, although Lesley thought we ought to wait a little longer, until we could
be really sure you were on our side.” I was about to pick up my bag, but it wasn’t there. I clicked my tongue, annoyed. “Oh, no, my mum took it with her when we got out of the car.”

The tune of “Nice Guys Finish Last” was playing somewhere. I couldn’t help laughing. “Isn’t that kind of—?”

“Er … maybe. Unsuitable?” Gideon fished his mobile out of his jeans pocket. “If that’s Marley, I’m going
to—oh! My mother.” He sighed. “Seems like she’s found a boarding school for Raphael and wants me to persuade him to go to it. I’ll call her back later.”

The mobile went on ringing.

“It’s okay. Go ahead and answer it,” I said. “Meanwhile I’ll just run back and collect that book.”

I sprinted away without waiting for him to reply. Down in the cellar, Mr. Marley was probably freaked out, but who
cared?

The door to the Dragon Hall was open just a crack, and even from a distance, I could hear my mum’s agitated voice.

“What’s this meant to be, an interrogation? I’ve told you my reasons already. I wanted to protect my daughter, and I hoped Charlotte would be the one to inherit the gene. That’s all there is to it.”

“Sit down again.” That was unmistakably Mr. Whitman, in the tone he used
for troublesome students.

Chairs were shifted. Several people cleared their throats. I slowly stole closer.

“We did warn you, Grace.” Falk de Villiers spoke in icy tones. Mum was probably staring at her shoes and wondering why the hell she’d taken so much trouble with her outfit. I leaned back against the wall by the door, so that I could hear them better.