Sixty-One Nails Part 61

"But Dad!" Jeff suddenly sounded like his son, James. "How dangerous is it?" Meg Highsmith's voice cut across them both.

Blackbird answered. "If we manage to do it before anyone realises what we're doing, then the danger is minimal. He might slip and fall into the Fleet, which wouldn't be too pleasant, but that's about the limit. "

"And if they realise?"

"Then there are those who will try and prevent the re-forging of the knife. They have already tried to kill Niall and you heard the state of the other person they found. I won't lie to you; I doubt we can win if it comes to a fight. Our best hope is getting the knife re-forged before anyone notices."

He shrugged his shoulders in a very matter of fact way. "I may be old, but I've been a smith all my life and I'm not weak. Anyone who tries to do me a mischief will get cold iron up his a.r.s.e."

Meg forced a smile and Jeff squeezed his father's shoulder, though they must both have known it was bravado. Lisa pressed herself under her grandfather's arm, less willing to accept the bl.u.s.ter at face value. "It may take us a little while to get the nail, but we should be able to meet you at midday tomorrow outside the Royal Courts of Justice. Bring the new knife and any tools you think you might need to finish it. The roads shouldn't be busy. It is Sunday, after all," Blackbird said.

"Aye. I'll be there."

She smiled and thanked him.

"It's the nature of the deal," he told us. "Besides, how many men can say they've worked metal for the Courts of the Feyre in their lives? Not many, I bet. "

"Not many," she agreed.

"We need to get moving if we're going to be any help at the hospital." Blackbird was gathering our things together. "We have a long walk ahead of us, so we'd better get going."

"Can we give you a lift somewhere?" Jeff offered.

"Actually, I don't think we need one," I told him. "Ben, would you mind keeping the old Quick Knife here? It's broken anyway and it's probably more use to you than it is to us. "

"I can do."

"Then would you pa.s.s me the Dead Knife from the case?"

He lifted the lid of the case, releasing the miasma that hung around the Quick Knife, and then closed it again after removing its dull grey twin.

"What are you intending to do?" asked Blackbird.

"I think there might be a quicker way back, and if it doesn't work, then our walk will still be waiting for us. It shouldn't take long."

Jeff slid the knife across the table within reach and I picked it up. As the metal made contact with my skin, it shimmered momentarily and then fell into perfect black, a broad leaf of darkness. "Take hold of my hand."

"Are you sure you know what you're doing?" she asked.

"No, but you did say I should trust my instincts. I don't think it'll do any harm and it could save us the journey. Do you want me to try it on my own first? "

"No," she said. "I'll go where you're going. Then at least we won't get separated again." She reached out tentatively and grasped my hand. The knife stayed lightless but inert. "Ready?" I asked her.

"Thank you, Jeff and Meg, for your hospitality," she said. "Ben, we will see you outside the Royal Courts of Justice at midday tomorrow."

"I'll be there."

"Now I'm ready," she told me.

I lifted the knife in my hand and focused on it. Then I called to the emptiness within me. It welled upwards into the knife and the world slid into neither up nor down. Everything interleaved without touching, overlaid and underlapped in a kaleidoscopic dizziness. We were close to everywhere without being anywhere. I kept a firm grip on the warm hand clasped in mine as we slid between places, finding the gaps where we could pa.s.s, tasting but not touching.

It occurred to me that we didn't have to go to London. I had the knife and was no longer bound by concerns of distance. We could go anywhere, be anywhere. The world would spin without us, if we dared let go. I only needed to choose somewhere calm and peaceful and we could find respite, just for a while.

The possibilities were arrayed about me, tempting me with all the variations of existence. Each one was a world in a bubble, independent and isolated from those around it. All I had to do was choose.

But if I chose a different world, then everything would change. The smith would arrive at the rendezvous alone and the knife would never be re-forged. The barrier would fall and Raffmir and his sister would come and go as they pleased, feeding on humanity. The world would slip into chaos.

I could not let that happen, if only for the sake of my daughter, for they would surely seek her out and do to her what they had failed to do to me. I refocused, aware now that the drifting thought pattern was part of the interst.i.tial s.p.a.ce we traversed. Something here set the mind adrift so that thoughts wandered and all sense of s.p.a.ce and time were lost. I began to understand how it was that I had lost two hours when I was here before.

I forced myself to recall the image of the room above the abandoned underground station with the arched window looking out over the Strand. I formed the thought that we could be there. And we were.

Blackbird staggered, unbalanced slightly by the sudden return of gravity and s.p.a.ce. She looked around, recognising where we were. We could see through the window that it had fallen dark outside.

She let out a held breath. "How much time did we lose?"

I turned back, noting the change in her voice, realising that she had reverted to her older appearance, the one I had first encountered. "Is something wrong?" she asked me.

"No. It's just I thought... never mind." I tried to hide my disappointment that she'd chosen to change back. "If we're going to meet Claire, it has to be as someone she will recognise," she pointed out, reasonably. "I know. I understand." It made logical sense, but I wasn't any happier about it.

She approached me and lifted her mottled hand under my chin. It felt strange, as if her hands weren't hers somehow. It was an effort not to pull away. "It's still me, Niall."

"I know, but it's strange. I know it's you, still... "

"How much time do you think we lost?"

"I'm not sure. It couldn't have been long." It had still been light in Shropshire, but we were further east here, so had we travelled into the dusk? Was that why it was so dark?

She grabbed my hand and started pulling me towards the stairs. "Niall, you have no idea about time there, do you?"

"What do you mean? It's not late."

"Not late? My watch says eleven o'clock. Which day is it?"

"What do you mean, which day?"

"I mean we left on Sat.u.r.day. What day is it now? "

"It's still Sat.u.r.day, isn't it?"

Blackbird pulled me down the stairs down to the corridor that led towards the street door. "I shouldn't have let you do that."

"But we're here, quicker than we would have been. Travelling on the Ways would have taken longer and been much more exhausting."

"You don't even know what day it is. What if we've missed the smith?"

"We can't have, can we?" I followed her along the darkened corridor to the heavy door leading to the street. I felt a tingling sensation as her power swept out around us so we could exit the door unnoticed. She pulled back the bolt and twisted the lock, pulling open the heavy door and letting me past before she followed me out onto the pavement. We stepped outside into the street and I waited while she locked the door behind us. Once the door was secure, she let the magic surrounding us dwindle away.

Cars were still rumbling down the Strand, though it was less busy than it had been when we were here before. A pale-skinned guy in a duffel-coat, marking him out as a student, was walking towards us. Blackbird stepped into his path.

"Excuse me, do you know the time, please?"

He paused in his path and glanced at his wrist. "It's just before eleven." His accent marked him as a West Coast American. "And it is Sat.u.r.day, is it?" she asked him.

"Sure," he said. "It has been all day. Are you OK? "

"We're fine. Just making sure," she told him.

He stepped past and walked on, glancing back with a puzzled expression and then shrugged as if to acknowledge the strange eccentricities of the English. "We're in time," she acknowledged. "You see. I told you."

"Niall, tell me truthfully, before I asked that man, were you sure what day it was? Really?" I couldn't lie to her. "No. I suppose not."