‘The entire world, are you sure? ‘Cause, like, if they wanted to wipe out West London, I don’t think it’d be that much of a loss, you know, as long as I wasn’t still here.’
Martin shook his head. ‘It doesn’t work like that. The grave is a place of great power. Anyone discovering it no longer thinks for themselves. It isn’t about destroying a particular place, it’s about welcoming the Undying back to the world. His coming will destroy everything.’
‘Why now, couldn’t they at least wait ‘til after new year?’
He smiled. ‘It happens on Christmas eve, just before the sunrise. I’m sure if they’d known you were bothered, they’d have changed his birthday.’
She raised an eyebrow. ‘Was that your sass showing?’
Martin looked sheepish, and turned back to his desk, rooting through the debris until he emerged, waving a thin book triumphantly. He leafed through it, found what he wanted, and passed it over to Scarlet.
She looked at the page, and threw it on the floor, face scrunched up. ‘Eww, do you really think I want to see that? You’re supposed to be, like, a responsible adult.’
He looked affronted. ‘That’s the Undying.’
‘Huh?’
She picked the book up and stared at it. She turned it around, looking at it from a different angle. Nope, still looked the same, still gross. ‘That’s really a guy?’
Martin chuckled. ‘It’s the ghost of a person, really, he never had a body.’
‘Who was he?’
‘He was Jesus’s twin.’
‘I’m sorry?’
Martin cleared his throat and Scarlet sighed, leaning back and mentally picturing herself on a beach. Lecture time.
‘When Jesus was born, which did happen by the way, he had a twin. Only the twin wasn’t corporeal.’ He hurried on, seeing the confusion on her face. ‘He didn’t have a physical form. Mary and Joseph had no knowledge of him. If legend is to be believed, he was left in the cowshed, a baby left to fend for itself.’
He sighed, and she realised he felt sorry for it. ‘Had he been physical, he would have died, but being incorporeal, he needed no sustenance. He grew, slowly, until he could travel, and then went out into the world.’
She waved a hand. ‘And everywhere he went he caused great suffering, blah blah blah. Am I right?’
Martin looked surprised. ‘That’s exactly right. Until he was trapped. They thought at the time they’d killed him, but he can’t be killed—’
‘You’d think with a name like the Undying, they’d have figured that out.’
Martin frowned at the interruption, but nodded anyway. ‘He wasn’t called that then. It was only when the grave was disturbed, and he almost ended the world, that he earned the moniker he now bears.’
‘’The moniker he now bears?’’
Martin frowned again, and she smiled at him, showing some teeth. He ignored her and rose from his chair, beginning to pace across the room. He got across and back before he seemed to realise there was barely room to swing a cat, and sat back down.
‘This is bad news.’
‘World ending, no Christmas, no Christmas pudding? Yeah, I’d say it doesn’t sound too good.’
‘What I don’t understand…’ he stopped, frowning. ‘You said there was a comment with the poem. What was it?’
She unlocked her phone, the photo springing back up. She zoomed in and read it carefully. ‘On Christmas night, the Underworld will rise. Why does it say Christmas night, isn’t it Christmas eve?’
Martin nodded. ‘That’s very true. Odd. Why would someone send you the poem, but give you a warning at the same time?’
‘Warning?’
‘Well, anyone could have found the grave, but this person is telling us that the threat comes from the Underworld. It doesn’t narrow it down all that much, but it does help a little. I’m confused also by the pictures.’
He thumped his leg and she sat up, eyes widening. It was the strongest display of emotion she seen from him in, like, ever. ‘So, what, you think whoever posted this stuff is trying to help us?’
Martin shrugged. ‘I think they must be. Why else tell you what is occurring, if not to suggest you should help in some way?’
It took her a moment to decipher the sentence, then she shook her head. ‘But why me? I mean, no offence to your teaching and that, but I’m not exactly the best person to help stop the end of the world.’
He smiled. ‘I’m not sure anyone would feel entirely qualified for that job.’
He stood, and she sat back, looking up at him. He gestured for her to get up, and she grumbled. ‘Come on, my apprentice, we will learn nothing more sitting here. It is time we went visiting.’
‘Really? But it’s cold outside. And dark. And cold.’
‘We have three days until Christmas eve, and only three pictures and a cryptic comment to help us stop the end of the world. I think we might need a little more information.’
She stood, wrinkling up her nose. ‘Fine, fine, where are we going?’
‘Well, I thought the Underworld would be a good start.’
‘The Underwor— aww, forget it, just kill me now.’
They donned jackets and stepped out into the estate. They had gone no more than three steps, when a quiet voice from behind made them both spin around.
‘My master wishes to see you.’
He was short, and thin, and looked like a strong wind would blow him down. Between his hands he was tossing a knife, almost too quickly for her to see. Watching it made her a little dizzy. And scared too. She wasn’t keen on knives these days.
He stepped forward, the long coat he wore scraping across the leaf-strewn concrete. He could have been taller, but his shoulders were hunched, screwed up inside his jacket.
Martin stuck his chest out. ‘We have somewhere we need to be.’
The knife stopped, the point aimed straight at Martin. ‘It wasn’t a request, not at all.’
She felt something sharp slip through the gap beneath her coat and spun round. The thin man stood behind her, his knife inches from her chest. She screamed and leapt back. Beside her, Martin went from standing to sitting on his butt, without any warning, or time for him to respond.
The thin man was stood, a few feet away, the knife once more moving from hand to hand. ‘You will come with me now.’
