The Keeper (18 page)

Antimony ignored him. She craned her neck to get a better view of what was behind the throne.

Brad stepped in front of her.

‘Lucky you came, man. Those guys would have killed me otherwise. They got here through the passage in the Quintessence section of the library. You'd already taken the Book though, hadn't you?'

Brad gave her his biggest grin.

‘Think I could take a look?'

‘I'm giving it to Oisín,' Antimony said.

Brad's grin widened.

‘I think he's a little tied up at the moment.'

Antimony gasped as she realised what was behind the throne of skulls: Tom, Caoimhe and Oisín were stuck in the cobweb-curtain, their mouths bound as tightly shut as the Quints'. Lysander Quicksilver's blazer was on the floor in front of them – he must have taken it off to fight Brad.

Which meant that the blazer on the Morrígan's throne could only belong to one person, the smiling teenager in front of her.

Brad gripped Antimony's arm before she could reach for her slingshot.

‘Now, why don't you give me the Book of Magic?' he said, his usual goofy grin turning into something much more sinister.

Antimony stared at him in surprise.

‘What's the matter?' Brad said with a sneer. ‘Didn't think the stupid skater-boy had it in him? Neither did your friends. Made it a lot easier to tie them up once we got here. Shame the other Milesian swam into a different room. I almost knocked him off the bridge this morning, though, so he shouldn't be any trouble.'

Antimony did the only thing she could think of: she spat in his face.

Brad's smile hardened and he pulled out his baseball
croíacht
from his pocket.

‘That's not going to make me do anything,' Antimony scoffed.

‘Maybe not,' Brad said. ‘But I think
this
might.'

He tapped the side of his baseball. A small silver blade shot out, glinting in the eerie light of the chamber.

Brad was right. There was nothing like a blade to win an argument and Antimony let him prise the Book of Magic out of her hands. Before she could do anything, he'd shoved her into the cobweb-curtain and a fine thread had looped across her mouth. She cursed herself for being so stupid. The other Quints hadn't been trying to get the Book; they had been trying to stop Brad from getting it.

Everybody looked at Brad now as he strode up the pyramid and sat on the throne, stretching his long legs on top of a skull. He flicked through the Book as if it was the best gadget he could hope to ever get.

‘I think you'll have to give it to me officially,' he said to Oisín. ‘Otherwise it won't work.'

Brad tapped his fingers against the throne and the threads holding Oisín snapped.

Antimony hoped Oisín might charge at Brad but he just stood there, dazed.

‘You can't be the Morrígan,' he said to Brad. ‘You don't have green eyes.'

‘
I
do, though.'

Everybody turned to see who had just entered the chamber. Antimony twisted her head to see the Morrígan standing at the foot of the pyramid. She looked different to the last time they'd seen her. She wasn't a stingray or the most beautiful woman in Ireland. Instead, she was disguised in the shape she'd been using aboard
Eachtra
, the shape that had fooled all of them.

Brad Washington shot up as if he had been sitting on a fireball.

‘Your Greatness,' he said, removing his blazer quickly from her throne.

‘I'll deal with you later,' the Morrígan said in an icy tone. ‘But first I want to welcome our main guest.'

She looked past Antimony and turned to Oisín.

His own green eyes widened in shock as he realised who the Morrígan had been disguised as all along.

Chapter 22

Green-eyed Monsters

T
HE CLUES had been there all the time. The green eyes that had seemed so kind but were now glittering coldly. The chill in the air whenever he was around her. The one druid aboard
Eachtra
that Oisín had trusted. The Morrígan had been disguised as the Keeper of Books.

‘Surprised, dear?' she asked in her fluttery voice, looking strangely out of place in her woollen cardigan.

Oisín couldn't speak, even if he had wanted to. All the time he had been going to the library to check in on the Book, he had been getting closer and closer to the Morrígan. A lot of small details started to make sense. The floor of the library that the Keeper occupied wasn't cold to protect the rare books. It was kept cool to hide the chill of the Morrígan. The Keeper was always making tea for the same reason: so the warmth of the tea would distract from the cold around her. And the huge glasses she wore took attention away from the hard green eyes behind them.

‘Figuring it out, are you?' the Morrígan said with a chilly smile. ‘I always said you were sharp. Not too sharp, though. All I had to do was appear a little bit like that dotty grandmother of yours and the rest was simple. I knew you'd never suspect a doddering little old lady who cared about books.'

She had been right. There had been something so warm and cosy about the Keeper that Oisín had never suspected that her resemblance to Granny Keane could be a disguise.

The disguise wasn't the only lie. Brad had told him to be careful of Lysander so he wouldn't suspect Brad himself. The Keeper had told Caoimhe that a Quint had sent her in search of a book that morning, but of course the only book she was after was the Book of Magic. The puzzle was slowly becoming more solid. The problem was that Oisín didn't like the picture it was making.

‘
You
made the black lines in the Book,' he said. ‘You were just pretending to be concerned about them. All the time the Book was in its drawer, you were working dark magic on it.'

The Morrígan's eyes were twinkling.

‘You're doing very well. It's a shame you're so late at figuring it out. It has been nice getting to know you. I've been waiting to meet you for years, sitting up in that lonely library with only books to talk to. But I knew you'd come eventually, the prophecies never lie.'

Oisín had to keep her talking. There was still a chance that Stephen could free Sorcha. He'd swum in a different direction when they'd dived into the water, so he had a plan of his own. And he had An Freagarach. There was still some hope.

‘How come none of the druids ever found you out?' Oisín asked, stalling for time.

‘I put a forget-me-not charm around my floor of the library so none of the druids would ever visit it.'

‘They'll come here, though,' Oisín said. ‘Madame Q and Mrs Fitzfeather have a plan.'

‘You think M and B will come here and rescue you?' the Morrígan asked in a silky voice. ‘They never were as brave as I was. I don't think they'll be coming here.'

Oisín struggled to fit this piece together. M and B were the names that Mrs Fitzfeather and Madame Q had used for each other, but what did they mean?

‘Didn't they tell you that we're all sisters?' The Morrígan said with a smile. ‘Madame Q and Mrs Fitzfeather! Not quite as elegant as Badb and Macha.'

Oisín remembered the story that Granny Keane had told about the Morrígan. She was one of a trio of goddesses. Macha and Badb were the other two. M and B. That was why Mrs Fitzfeather accused Madame Q of hiding behind a new name. It was also why Madame Q's eyes flashed the exact same shade of green as the Morrígan's when she got excited. Oisín felt a ripple of shock pass through the room. It was clear from the other Quints' faces that none of them had suspected Madame Q of being related to the Morrígan.

The Morrígan pulled her woolly cardigan around her, enjoying the show.

‘You see why M and B can't come and visit. It rather brings out the witch in them. Speaking of
which.
'

The Morrígan laughed at her joke and slowly started to transform. The person Oisín had known as the Keeper of Books changed in front of his eyes. Layers of wrinkles smoothed. Her woollen cardigan changed into a black feathered cloak. Her white hair twisted into sleek black strands. All that remained were the same green eyes, gleaming terribly without her glasses.

‘Now, perhaps we can get to business,' she said, walking over to Brad, who was pointing Ben's calculator at the Book of Magic. Silver sparks fizzled out of the calculator, but nothing was happening to the Book.

‘Who's been a greedy little boy?' she said in a scarily sweet voice, running her hand through Brad's floppy hair.

‘I was just testing the Book's powers, O Great One,' Brad stammered.

Her long fingernail pressed into Brad's cheek until it drew blood. Brad winced.

‘You've been a useful assistant,' she said. ‘I knew an ambitious Quint would be a good spy. But I fear your usefulness is waning.'

She prised the Book from Brad's fingers and pushed him to the ground as if he were no more important than the discarded skulls he had landed on. Oisín felt a pang as the Morrígan opened The Book of Magic.

The whole chamber seemed to sense her increase in power. The shadow-fish pulsed excitedly in the moat. Ravens swooped in, settling on the Morrígan's throne. The skulls and bones shifted as if preparing for battle. And then the sound of tiny, scuttling feet reverberated around the chamber.

Oisín should have expected a room with a cobweb to have spiders, but the kind that lived in Cnoc na gCnámh still came as a surprise. They were the ugliest spiders he had ever seen: their white bodies were as pale as bone and their tiny green eyes gleamed horribly in the dim chamber. They were coming from every direction: crawling down the thin cobweb curtains and creeping up through cracks in the pyramid of skulls. The skulls moved to help them, shifting to reveal a deep well near the bottom of the pyramid, from which hundreds of pale spiders scuttled out. Oisín jumped as a couple scurried across his runners. He really hoped that Stephen had found Sorcha.

He wasn't the only one who was scared. Brad Washington scrambled backwards up the pyramid as a horde of spiders crawled towards him.

‘O Great One, could you help me?' Brad said nervously as the spiders swarmed up his legs.

The Morrígan didn't look up from the Book.

‘They always eat Quints first,' she said in her silky voice, bored. ‘They're attracted to power. Though I'm not sure why they're bothering you.'

The insult spurred Brad into action.

‘I do have power,' he said, standing. He snapped his tie against the spiders and pulled out his brother's calculator
croíacht
.

The Morrígan was suddenly interested.

‘Your brother's the only one who can use that thing,' the Morrígan goaded him. ‘He's always been the smart one.'

‘Anything Ben can do, I can do better,' Brad said, punching the keys on the calculator and pointing it at the spider in front of him.

‘And bigger,' he added as the spider expanded to the size of a bear, its pale white legs as tall as any of the Quints.

The giant spider found its footing on the uneven skulls. For a moment it turned towards Oisín. Oisín took a step back, terrified of its huge pincers and hungry green eyes.

Brad Washington had other ideas, though, whipping the spider's side with his tie as if it was his horse. He didn't seem to be scared any more.

‘That way, buddy,' Brad said, directing the spider towards his brother.

‘That's it,' the Morrígan said encouragingly. ‘You show the Quints who's really powerful.'

‘No!' Oisín shouted as the spiders started to scuttle towards Ben, who was still trapped in the cobweb-curtain. Whatever advanced Quintessence skills Ben had possessed deserted him now. He looked like any sixteen-year-old boy about to be eaten by a giant spider: very frightened.

The spider seemed to be waiting for Brad's instruction.

‘Do it,' the Morrígan said softly.

‘Don't listen to her,' Oisín shouted. ‘She doesn't care about you. She just wants skulls for her chamber.'

Brad snapped his tie. The spider raised its pincers and lunged. Ben arched forward, gasping. ‘I do have power,' Brad said, folding his arms in satisfaction.

‘So much power that you want more,' the Morrígan said, looking at Brad curiously. She held the Book of Magic tantalisingly by her side.

‘No!' Oisín shouted, seeing what Brad was about to do.

It was too late. Brad had already extended the blade in his baseball and launched himself towards the Book of Magic.

‘It's mine,' he shouted, knocking the Book out of the Morrígan's hands.

He gasped as it tumbled down the pyramid and dropped into the well from which the spiders had come.

‘No!' Brad screamed desperately, diving after it.

Oisín raced to the edge. Both Brad and the Book of Magic were caught on a giant cobweb that stretched across the well, several feet below its rim. Pale spiders scurried up, excited at the prospect of an early dinner. They weren't the only ones: all the spiders left Ben and scuttled over towards his brother, who promised to be a juicier meal.

Oisín bent over the side and tried to reach Brad's hand. Whatever Brad had done, he was only sixteen. Oisín had to help.

‘Throw me your baseball,' Oisín shouted, thinking quickly. ‘I'll cut through the thread.'

‘No,' Brad said, clutching onto his
croíacht
. His other hand grasped at the Book of Magic, inches away on the cobweb. He twisted his body desperately, oblivious to the spiders crawling towards him, looking only at the Book of Magic.

‘I do have power,' he whispered to himself, as his fingers reached the Book's leather spine.

This was also the moment that the giant spider reached the cobweb.

‘Dude, I created you,' Brad said, his blue eyes suddenly scared.

The spiders of Cnoc na gCnámh were not known for their loyalty, however, so the giant spider had no hesitation in rolling Brad up in thread.

‘I do have power!' Brad screamed as the other spiders gripped onto him and pulled him down. His hand reached for the Book of Magic but the spiders were strong and he disappeared into the dark in seconds. There were some terrible crunching sounds and then two expensive black leather shoes were thrown up from the bottom, as if the spiders hadn't found them terribly appetising.

The Book of Magic remained on the cobweb, perfectly serene.

Oisín felt a chill as the Morrígan walked over to the edge of the well and stood beside him. He turned to her, horrified.

‘You knew what would happen. You wanted him to die.'

The Morrígan just smiled and stared at the Book.

‘It's mine,' Oisín said before she could do anything.

He wasn't sure if it would still work. He was still its Keeper, though, so the Book shook off the thread and sailed into his hands.

The Morrígan suppressed a scream and twisted her face into a grimace.

‘We're alike, you know,' she said. ‘We're the only people who understand the Book.'

Oisín felt a chill down his spine watching the Morrígan smile as if they were the best of friends. Even scarier was the warm feeling as the Book snuggled in his palm. Even after everything that had happened, after he had seen Brad Washington die for it, he still felt a connection to the Book.

‘Its power will be even greater if you give it to me,' the Morrígan said silkily. ‘I'd still let you use it. We're friends, after all.'

‘I saw what happened to your last friend,' Oisín said.

‘Poor Brad,' the Morrígan said. ‘It's not my fault if siblings treat each other terribly. Somebody's always left out. It makes them very easy to convince. Your sister was one of the quickest friends I've made.'

Oisín felt sick. ‘Where is she?' he shouted.

He knew from the Morrígan's smile that Stephen hadn't freed her. Oisín looked around the cavern and shouted as loudly as he could.

‘Sorcha! Sorcha!'

A sad echo reverberating off bone was the only answer.

‘You really think you've come to rescue her?' the Morrígan said.

‘Yes,' Oisín said, standing as tall as he could.

‘But you don't need to rescue her. She can leave any time.'

It wasn't just the sickly honey tone of her voice that troubled Oisín – it was the sight of the girl who came walking into the chamber.

‘There you are, sweetie,' the Morrígan said, making her way over to the little girl and stroking her hair.

‘Sorcha?' Oisín said.

‘Look at my new toy,' Sorcha said, swinging a sword.

Oisín caught his breath. She was holding An Freagarach. It was far too big for her and glinted dangerously in the gloom of the cave.

‘Sorcha, come over here,' Oisín said.

There was something strange about her. She seemed healthy but her eyes were vacant. Her ankle scar had grown deeper.

‘I told you they'd try and ruin your fun,' the Morrígan said, stroking Sorcha's hair. The sight of her touching Sorcha made Oisín bristle with anger.

‘Let go of her!' he shouted.

‘Can I have the Book?' Sorcha said, eyeing the Book of Magic greedily.

‘Of course, sweetie,' the Morrígan said, still stroking her hair. ‘Once I'm its Keeper, I'll let you use the Book whenever you want. But first your brother has to release the Book to me.'

A cold smile returned to the Morrígan's face.

‘It's just a little name,' she said.

Just a little detail.'

The Book of Magic flapped its pages until it reached the inscription which proclaimed Oisín its Keeper. The creature drawn on the page stretched out its tongue until it became a small pen.