The Potioneer (Shadeborn Book 3) (14 page)

Lily inhaled deeply, for this was the first time Novel had said the ‘m’ word since his mother’s vanishing act in the summer.

“Mother and I used to laugh at them tremendously, ridiculous as they were,” he continued, swallowing hard, “but of course, that was a long time ago.”

There was a moment of deep and heavy sadness in the air, and Lily realised that, once long before her time as a darksider, Mother Novel must have been a real parent to the man Lily loved. They had spent centuries together before Lily was even born, and it was hard not to blame herself for the fact that Mother had finally been driven over the edge when Novel chose his new love against his own blood. It was harder still to see the obvious pain and conflict that graced Novel’s pale features as he stood silently in the book shop. But, as Lily reached out to touch his arm and comfort him, a creak announced the return of Baines the bookseller.

“The great lady is ready for you now,” Baines said, bowing his head once more.

When Novel stepped forward, Lily followed, but he halted quickly and looked back at her with silent apology.

“It’s one at a time, I’m afraid,” he explained. “Forrester is one of the oldest living shades in existence, and she’s rather frail. Don’t worry, I won’t be long.”

Baines leapt out of Novel’s way as the illusionist carved his path through the books. Lily watched him disappear between the mounds, heard the creak of the door, and then found herself smiling awkwardly at the strange little bookseller, who was waiting by her side. Baines beamed from one hairy ear to the other, and Lily had absolutely no idea what to say in response to his expectant smile. Fortunately, she didn’t have to speak, for Baines had a mission in mind, and he held out his hand flat, as he had before.

“Have this one on me,” he said, “and don’t tell the Monsieur you’ve got it.”

The little white book of fairy-tales came flying out of the stacks, zipping in a zig-zag through the air until it landed in Baines’s palm again. He held it, waiting as patiently as ever, and Lily’s mind raced with a thousand polite ways to decline his offer. Yet, as she gazed at the pale book and its embossed cobalt title, she felt that urge of instinct rise within her. She reached out, taking the little tome by its corner, and Baines shifted his hand so the volume fell into her grip. It was cold, and light as air to touch.

“Most shadefolk find it enlightening,” Baines said with a cheeky smile, “except for the Novels, of course. You’ll beg my pardon, Miss Coltrane, but they do have a tendency to think they know everything.”

Lily had to admit that that much was often true of her boyfriend, and she exchanged a knowing look with the strange little man. She held the book before her in both hands, looking it over with a newfound fascination. This was a book that her father ought to have read to her, if he had bothered to stick around and be a father at all. She wondered how different it might have been to be raised in the House of Schoonjans instead of her little terraced place in Colchester, with the mother who always watched her warily from the corner of one eye.

“Thank you,” Lily told Baines. “This is very generous.”

The booksmith in the window gave an abrupt cough which made Lily jump, and a second later she heard the creak of the door at the back of the shop. Lily shoved the little white book into her handbag swiftly, and smiled brightly at Novel when he emerged between the ancient tomes. He ran a hand through his hair in an irate fashion, then let out a small, sharp sigh.

“I’ve explained our situation to Forrester,” he revealed, “but that’s all. She won’t give me any advice. She wants to give it you, and you alone.”

Lily balked. It hadn’t occurred to her that she really had much to do with the Pendle visit, since Novel was so experienced in all the ways of the shadeborn. Now, she glanced towards the hidden path in the books which led to the creaky door, and a thousand uncertainties rattled through her brain. She had no idea what she was supposed to say, or do, yet she was expected to take audience with one of the oldest magical beings in the world. When she looked to Novel for support, he had that gleam of understanding in his eyes. He leaned forward and planted a warm kiss on her cheek.

“She’s a grand old bird,” he said, “you’ll be fine.”

And Lily believed him. She began to make her way through the hefty stacks, trying not to inhale the musty air when she brushed against the bookshelves. She knew that she must have been out of sight of the others when Baines spoke again in his hoarse tone, yet Lily heard every word of the brief conversation as she approached the tiny, brown door at the very back of the cluttered shop.

“You’re a very lucky man, Monsieur,” Baines remarked, “to find a girl like that.”

As Lily’s hand reached the doorknob, she heard Novel’s small and simple answer.

“Thank you. I know.”

The Diamondblade

Forrester’s room was brighter than the shop-front, owing to a pair of golden voiles that covered a large window on the far wall. Beneath that wall, Lily spied a large and luxurious bed, and in front of that there was a grand old rocking chair made of deep, dark wood. In the chair sat the lady herself, with wrinkled hands folded in her lap, and a smile so sweet and wide that Lily felt as though she might have been visiting her grandmother.

“Come closer, child,” the woman said in a light and sunny tone, “my eyes are not what they used to be.”

A footstool was prepared before the rocking chair and Lily moved cautiously over the old ornate rug to reach it. Before she sat down, she made an awkward little bow to the old shade, who returned it with the incline of her small, aged head.

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Lily stammered, filled with a nervous reverence.

“I am the Lady Forrester, keeper of knowledge and treasures,” Forrester replied. “It appears that you are in dire need of help, Miss Coltrane. A great darkness has been cast upon your bright soul.”

Lily’s heart sank at the words, and she nodded. She made to sit down on the stool again, but this time it was a noise that stopped her. Over the sound of her own nervous heartbeat, she hadn’t noticed the faint humming in the background, but the longer she spent in Forrester’s room, the louder it became. Lily put a hand to one ear, pressing on her earhole to see if it was in her head, but the noise was high-pitched and intense as ever when she let go. It was starting to make her skin break out in goose-pimples.

“Something wrong, dear girl?” Forrester asked.

“Um…” Lily stuttered. “That noise. Can’t you hear it?”

Up until that moment, Forrester’s eyes had been encased in deep wrinkles. Now, her brows rose up and two blue irises gleamed, so bright they were almost white.

“Where is it coming from?” the ancient lady questioned.

Lily looked around, holding a hand behind her ear to locate the noise. It seemed to be coming from her right, where a grand dresser in the same dark wood as the rocking chair stood against one wall. It had various cabinets and shelves, with plates, clocks and ornaments on display, but set within in its centre was a case of glass. And, in the case, there lay a long, slender sword.

“It’s coming from that,” Lily said, her gaze unblinking.

She approached the sword, fascinated by its white gleam, and it occurred to her that it had not been forged in metal. Though the hilt was made of silver and wrapped in old crimson bondage, the blade itself was sparkling like a gemstone. It was perhaps two feet long in total, and shaped like the broadswords Lily had studied in her time exploring King Arthur on her history degree. The hum of the sword filled her ears so much that nothing else could penetrate her mind, and Lily stepped closer and closer to the shining blade, one hand reaching out to feel the glass which encased it.

Before she had even touched it, the glass case shattered.

“Oh my God!” Lily exclaimed at once. The humming in her ears had died at the sound of the shattered glass, and she looked back to Forrester with a helpless, wide-eyed expression. “I am
so
sorry! I don’t even know what happened.”

The great old shade simply smiled.

“I do, dearie.” she revealed, “Help me out of this beastly chair, would you?”

Lily did as she was told, taking the old lady gently by one arm. Forrester was barely half of Lily’s height, and the young woman had to crouch to lead her over to the place where the glass had shattered. Forrester stepped with sandaled feet onto the broken shards, and showed no sign of caring when they crunched beneath her flimsy soles. She extended one bony, wrinkled finger towards the gemstone blade where it lay within the broken case. When Forrester touched it, it glowed bright white in the spot where her finger connected, but only for a moment.

“Go on,” the old shade urged, “now you.”

Lily followed her directions, reaching out just as Forrester had to touch the blade. She flinched the second before she made contact with the sword, just in case the priceless artefact exploded at the touch the way its case had. Instead, the blade lit up white in the spot where her finger connected with it. But then, the white light spread, and the entire length of the blade illuminated to blinding proportions. Lily’s eyes stung, and she had to let go of the sword to be able to see again.

“You’re the diamondchild,” Forrester mused.

Lily rubbed at her eyes, then inspected the gemstone blade again.

“Is that what it’s made of?” she asked.

The old shade nodded, her wrinkles increasing gleefully.

“This is the Diamondblade,” she explained, “I should say, the original Diamondblade. Most people who come here think it’s a copy, but it isn’t. This is
it
, and it has been in my care since I was about your age.”

In shade years, that meant centuries, and Lily nodded in fascination.

“You said you were the keeper of treasures?” Lily asked. Forrester nodded her tiny head. “This sword… It’s a beautiful thing.”

The old woman took Lily’s hands in her own, gripping them tightly. Forrester’s eyes shone pale and wide as she spoke with newfound strength.

“It shall be thine, diamondchild,” Forrester said, “but not yet. You’ll come for it, when you need it.”

And with that, the old woman puttered off towards a dressing table beside her bed. Lily stood, dumbfounded by all that had happened in the strange golden room. She was pretty sure that Forrester had basically given her the Diamondblade, and she had no clue whatsoever as to why, except that it lit up brightly, and that Lily’s April birthday made her the right gemstone match for it. Lily watched as Forrester scribbled away on a piece of paper, then almost toppled over in her excitement when she tried to reach Lily again.

“Here, let me help you back to your chair,” Lily urged.

She raced forward and took the old woman by the elbow again, until Forrester let herself be guided back into the cosy rocker. When she was in place, she stuffed the piece of paper she’d been writing on into Lily’s hands. Lily looked down at the crumpled sheet of parchment, trying to make out the shaky script penned by the gnarled hands of an ancient shade.

“This is an open invitation to Pendle,” Forrester explained. “Keep it to yourself, and never let it out of your sight. This is our covenant, and so is the sword. Not a word to a soul about them. You must go now, Lily dearest, for there is much still to come before we meet again.”

“I don’t understand,” Lily pleaded as she clutched the invitation. “Novel said you were going to advise me on the djinn curse?”

“You don’t need my advice, sweet child,” Forrester answered. She reached out and ran a finger down the edge of Lily’s cheek. “Call upon your instincts. Do what you think is right, and when your heart is ready for what must be done, you will return here.”

Lily swallowed hard at the lump of raw emotion that rushed to choke her. She folded Forrester’s invitation, and tucked it into her bag between the first two pages of the book Baines had given her. She bowed again to the ancient shade, and found that there were tears brimming in Forrester’s eyes. Though she did not understand them, the same tears caught in Lily’s gaze, and she tried to suck them up as she turned and left the golden room. As she opened the door, the faint hum of the Diamondblade echoed in her ears one last time.

Pascal

“She sort of just said that things would work themselves out,” Lily explained.

Novel was holding her elbow tightly as they walked a little farther up the cobbled street of the hidden town. He made a scoffing noise and scowled.

“Surely she told you more than that?” he demanded. “You were in there twice as long as me.”

That much was certainly true, but Lily had been told to keep the open invitation to herself, and she couldn’t find a way to explain the rest of what had happened without mentioning it. If she told Novel about the Diamondblade, she feared that he might return to challenge Forrester about her meaning, and something deep in Lily’s heart warned against that move. The ancient shade had told her to follow her instincts and, much as Lily felt the weight of guilt settle into her stomach, her instincts told her that it was her turn to keep a secret from Novel now.

“Where else can we go for help?” Lily asked in a bid to change the subject. “You said there were more elders here, and isn’t there a council?”

“Yes,” Novel replied, pointing ahead. “The Council Hall is higher on the hill. I’m hoping they’ll be in session, and we can put your case to them for consideration.”

“No chance of that, ducks,” said a voice nearby.

The voice had come from a shop doorway, under a scarlet sign that read:
Pritchard Potioneers: Pendle Office
. It was a woman who had spoken, and Lily took in her multi-coloured garb and layers of clothing, all of which seemed to have pockets stuffed with vials and jars. She looked as though she had taken the entire contents of Jeronomie’s attic office and decided to wear it, and she was pushing a sweeping brush towards the open doorway of the establishment. Lily saw, with mild horror, that among the things being swept out onto the street, there were tiny animal bones and bloodstained rags.

“What do you mean by that?” Novel asked.

“The council are no longer resident, Sir,” the potioneer replied.

Lily looked to Novel, whose reaction was flush with confusion.

“That’s absolute rot,” he exclaimed, “who would dare displace the council from their own offices?”

The potioneer woman looked the illusionist over, and a wry smile came to her lips.

“The House of Novel, of course,” she replied.

Any peaceful feelings left over from Forrester had evaporated from Lily’s heart by the time she and Novel reached the top of the hill. The Council Hall was unmistakeable in its grandeur, standing several feet higher than any of the other buildings at Pendle, and easily three times as wide. It looked like a stately manor fit for a Tudor baron, its black panels and dark brown wood blending to make it look as though it was made of shadows. Lily hated the look of it at once, her stomach twisting into a horrible knot the closer she got to it, and there was only one thing that made the whole approach to the building even worse.

There was a man waiting for them at the top of the hill.

He stood with legs apart and hands collected, in a thin black suit that made him look like a patient spider. His grey-white hair, slightly curling at the ends, told Lily that he was a senior shade, and even from the distance between them, she marked the high cheekbones and sharp, pale features of his face. He was related to her Lemarick, it was evident in every look and move the man made, and so far as Lily could tell, there was only one crucial difference between the two relatives.

This man had one golden eye. There was no pupil, no iris, no white, and not even a real sphere to speak of. The closer Lily came to the stranger, the more she was able to make out the swirling mass of golden liquid rotating in his dark, empty socket. Lily saw his other eye, which was frosty like Novel’s, and wondered fearfully why the liquid in the left socket didn’t simply bleed onto his pale cheek. When she felt a hand take hold of her own, Lily couldn’t help but shudder.

“Be calm,” Novel said, giving her hand a squeeze, “it’s only a glamour.”

“Who is he?” Lily whispered.

The pair were already too close for Novel to reply without being overheard, and instead he stepped towards the man and offered his hand. The pair shook, and Novel led his senior relative by the forearm towards Lily.

“Uncle, this is Miss Lily Coltrane,” Novel said stiffly. “Lily, this is Pascal Novel, my mother’s little brother.”

Pascal grinned at the introduction, and his mouth was filled with teeth that were just a little too sharp to be charming. Lily couldn’t stop staring into his golden eye, and she knew she was making it frightfully obvious even as she offered her hand to him out of politeness. When Pascal took her in his grip, he bowed his face out of sight and placed an icy kiss across her knuckles. He looked more amused than ever when he straightened up and let her go.

“Indeed,” he said, and his low voice rumbled like the purr of a gleeful feline. “It’s a rare treat to find you out and about so near to your birthday, Lemarick. The whole family has come to bid you good tidings.”

There was suggestion everywhere in Pascal’s words, and he had that lazy, graceful way of speaking where it became hard to tell if a person was serious or not. Lily had not previously thought it possible for Novel’s face to be paler than it was, but it seemed that every drop of blood had left his visage when he replied to his uncle’s words.

“The
whole
family?” he repeated.

Pascal only grinned.

“Come inside, both,” the senior shade urged playfully. “Lily, it’s high time you were introduced to our family’s greatest traditions.”

It was clear that Pascal was the oldest living member of the House of Novel from the moment that Lily passed through the grand double doors of the Council Hall. There was a circular foyer daubed in black lace curtains, with two staircases spiralling up on either side of it, and at the foot of each staircase stood a young man with eyes like steel. One look between them told Lily they were twins, and both were dark-haired figures with broad bodies. At once the pair began to approach Pascal, bowing themselves over-double to show respect. When Pascal stood between them, a proud arm over the shoulder of each, the reason became apparent.

“My sons,” he explained, “Theophile and Remy.”

Novel regarded them coolly, but inclined his head.

“You never change, boys,” he remarked.

Pascal ruffled the hair of the boy on his left, Theophile, who bit back his anger quite visibly. Lily felt the waves of hostility all around her, and she found herself fearfully reminded that the three men before her may well be just as magically powerful as Novel was. In fact, by the sound of it, there was a whole congregation of fiercely powerful and noble shades waiting just beyond the confines of the grand foyer. Lily swallowed hard, and she was sure that Pascal had seen her do it, for his wicked grin widened.

“Boys, this is Lemarick’s… Well,
are
you engaged yet?” Pascal asked.

The couple’s look of shock was mutual, and Lily felt small when Pascal and his sons expressed a raucous bite of laughter. Pascal shook his head and let his sons go, where they took up position ready to lead him to the main room. The senior shade held out a hand to Lily, his one good eye sparkling with mischief as the last of his grin died away.

“Forgive me,” he crooned, “I can’t resist shaking the young people up. Would you be presented to the family, Miss Coltrane?”

No thanks, I’m all right here.

How Lily desperately wished she could voice that thought, but Novel’s obedient behaviour was just as it had been in the winter of last year, when Mother came to pay a visit to the Imaginique. Novel was only that well-behaved in the presence of senior power, and Lily knew she had very little choice in whatever was going to happen beyond the next set of double doors. She took Pascal’s hand, trying with every muscle not to shake in his grip, and in seconds she found Novel at her other side.

“I won’t leave you alone in this place, I swear it,” he promised quietly.

His solemn words gave her some comfort, but Lily’s heart was still in her throat as she prepared to face the House of Novel.