Part One is here

Martin’s forehead creased, head shaking. He swore quietly as he laid the body against the wall. Scarlet stared at her hands, wondering why they were shaking so much. She looked down at the body and realised it wasn’t just her hands that were shaking. She stepped away, hands held out in defence, then turned and vomited against the far wall of the tunnel.

She turned and looked back at the body. She couldn’t imagine ever not seeing it. Every time she closed her eyes, she’d see it, see the eyes staring at her. He was dead, just like that.

Her master knelt before the body, hand slipping inside the bomber jacket, and emerging a few moments later with a wallet. He turned back to her. Their eyes met and he blinked, then stepped closer and opened his arms wide.

She buried her face in his chest and wept, hoping the tears would wash the vision away. They didn’t though and she pushed herself away from him, scrubbing her face with her sleeve, not wanting to look down the tunnel and see if anyone was still watching them.

She was supposed to be able to handle stuff now. Someone-possibly her computer-thought she could save the world, so she should be able to handle a dead body. She glanced over at it and the shaking began again, and she wondered for the life of her why anyone thought she could do anything dangerous, let alone save the world.

Martin was leafing through the wallet, then he tossed it onto the body with a hiss. ‘Nothing, not even a library card.’
‘Do bad guys normally read, then?’
He gave her a look, which softened as he took in her desperate grin. ‘Sorry, I deplore the violence, the whole thing, but we could have done with knowing something about him.’
‘How did he die?’
‘Poison. He had something, either in his mouth already, or close at hand.’
‘He killed himself?’ Her voice was a whisper as her head shook.
Martin nodded. ‘He had secrets we weren’t to know. He is linked to the Undying, of that there is no doubt. There aren’t many sects around who still practice this level of dedication, but they are out there, and one such could well be the group attempting to raise him.’
‘Sorry, sect?’
‘A religious group, often with a single purpose in mind.’
‘Like raising Jesus’s dead/not dead twin brother?’
‘Yes, exactly.’
They stood in silence for a moment, Scarlet wanting to look away from the body but not managing it. It was horribly compelling, like reality TV. It was wrong, and quite possibly evil, but strangely difficult to switch off. Martin nodded, once, then guided her gently round. ‘Come, let us find The Healer.’

They set off down the corridor, leaving behind them a dead boy not much older than she. When Scarlet glanced back, there were already two people gathered around the body. She bit back a whimper as one of them took his feet and dragged him away into the darkness.
She hurried after Martin, tugging at his sleeve. ‘So where did you learn to do all the, you know, sword fighting stuff?’
‘The Council.’
‘What did you do for them?’
There was a long pause, long enough for her to wonder if she’d asked the wrong question, then to decide she had, then to decide she didn’t care all that much, and that he needed to stop being so sensitive, and man up a little. Then he spoke.
‘I was a soldier.’
‘What, like uniform and a gun, that kinda thing?’
‘No. Their soldiers are individual, trained in magical warfare, sent to do very specific tasks.’
‘So, have you…’ She tailed off, swallowing back the bile that threatened to climb back up her throat. Did she want to know?
‘Killed someone? Yes.’ He looked down, stopping. ‘Yes, I did, and I can’t change it. Or take it back, however much I wish I could.’

She blinked, suddenly not wanting to look at him. Of course he had, how had she been naive enough to think otherwise? Actually, she hadn’t thought about it at all, not until now. It was possible, if she tried really hard, to stop thinking about it, maybe. She just needed something else to focus on.

‘So, who’s this Healer guy?’

Martin shifted his shoulders, and resumed walking. His voice was gruff and quiet when he replied. ‘He’s an old…friend of mine, from when I worked for The Council. Whether he remembers me, or the friendship, we’ll find out.’

She wasn’t sure what he meant by that and they walked on in silence until they reached a door, upon which Martin rapped loudly. A few moments later it swung in and they were faced with a man bearing a huge smile, his teeth white against his dark skin.
He stared at them for a second and the smile faded. ‘Martin. What are you doing here?’
That was great. She was guessing, and it was only a guess, that the friendship wasn’t perhaps as strong as Martin had made out. Her master stepped closer, voice soft. ‘The Undying is coming, Healer, we need some help.’

The man stepped back, folding his arms and staring down his nose at them both. ‘So, after three years, you need help and just turn up on my doorstep, as though we saw one another last week?’
Scarlet sighed and stepped forward. ‘Hi, my name’s Joanna. We’ve never actually met, so if you wanna be pissed at Martin, be my guest, I know it’s easy, but please don’t take it out on me.’
She stuck her hand out and the man, eyebrows raised, took it without apparently realising what he was doing. They shook and Scarlet gave him a big smile. ‘Can we come in please?’
The man, still looking slightly bemused, took a step back and Scarlet pushed her way past and into his home. Martin followed close behind and they were soon ensconced in a pair of high back chairs, facing a desk bearing precisely nothing.

The healer sat opposite them, opened a drawer, and took out a pad of paper and a pen, laying them just so on the dark wooden table. OCD much? It made a nice change from Martin’s chaos though. She didn’t have a desk. There wasn’t room in her bedroom, and besides, why use a desk when there was a perfectly good bed to sit on?

‘I normally charge for my time, but since you have arrived with this good-for-nothing, I will give you the first five minutes gratis. What can I do for you?’
‘The Undying guy, thing, whatever, is rising like, this Christmas, and we’d really like it if he didn’t. Do you know what the charms of Undoing are, please?’
He sat back, eyes fixed on the ceiling. His lips were moving, a low fast chant flowing from him, without pause. It was like having the TV on in the background. It was also creepy as hell.

Finally he stopped, like someone had turned off the tap, and he sat forward, leaning his forearms on the desk and clearing his throat. ‘The charms of Undoing, when combined and potentised through the speaking of the correct words, will cause the spells used for the raising of the Undying, to cease in the correct function.’
‘Um, in English please?’
The Healer gave the slightest of smiles. ‘Find the charms, get to the grave, say the right thing, and the spell to raise the Undying will no longer work. Understand?’
She nodded. ‘Seems simple enough. Where can we find them?’
Hs leaned back again, repeating the scary mumbling thing. It was quicker this time. ‘The first of the charms is a living creature, and may be discovered—’
‘Hang on, sorry, give me a moment.’ She pulled her phone out and flicked on the voice recorder, holding it out toward him. He looked at it, eyebrows raised. ‘Sorry, if it isn’t really good poetry or song lyrics, I’m gonna forget it.’

He shook his head and went on. ‘The first of the charms is a living creature and may be discovered—
He stopped, mouth still open and she sat forward. ‘Yes, may be discovered?’
He fell forward, the hilt of the knife buried in his back now angled toward the ceiling. She screamed, shoving herself back in her chair, but it caught on the rug and toppled over backward. Her head slammed against the hard back, her teeth closing on her tongue, and she shouted in pain.

She flapped about in the chair as the sounds of fighting filled the room. She heard Martin grunt, followed by a loud thump, then a strange face appeared above hers, leering down.
‘Forget this. The Undying will rise and nothing you do will stop it. Forget this, or you will suffer the same fate as the Healer.’
The face vanished and she rolled out of the chair onto her side. Her mouth was filled with blood and she crawled to the desk then pulled herself up. Her eyes came in line with the body of the Healer and she jumped, moaning in the back of her throat.
Then she saw Martin lying face down, blood running from beneath him to pool on the hardwood floor.

Next Installment Friday 21st February

Part One is here

This was, in hindsight, entirely predictable. What was it about the magic fraternity, that despite all the wonderful stuff they could do, it still came down to threats of violence? What was wrong with asking nicely, or bargaining maybe?

She glanced around the room. There were seven of them, all as thin as the man who’d brought them here, all carrying long, curved swords with thin blades. They were, she was fairly certain, unlikely to respond well to her asking where the toilet was.

Scarlet swallowed, and shook her head. ‘What else do we get?’

‘Your life isn’t enough?’

‘It’s a start.’

Seeker sat back, eyebrows raised, and chuckled, talking now to Martin. ‘She has stones, this one, more perhaps than you. You chose well.’

Martin, in a dry tone she’d never heard from him before, replied. ‘I didn’t chose, not as such. But she asks you a reasonable question. Why should we tell you?’

‘Because you have as much concern about the world ending as I do. Do you need any other reason?’

Fair point. Surely there was something she could get from this? What was happening? When did she suddenly become like all the others, desperate to get something? Actually, she’d always been like that, only before, the quest had been for chocolate, or pizza, or maybe both.

The silence stretched out, and she was about to give up, when Seeker shrugged, and cracked his knuckles. ‘I can offer you information, in the future, should you need it.’

Her first thought was of Martin, and his wife, and she realised things had changed. She nodded. ‘That sounds reasonable. This is what we know.’

She told him about the poem, and the horse and book, but stayed quiet about the necklace. He didn’t have to know everything. When she’d finished, he was nodding. ‘These things, the horse and the book? What are they for?’

He was looking at Martin when he said that, and her master shook his head. ‘I don’t know, not yet, but we’ll work it out.’

Seeker stood, paced once across the room and back again, clapping his hands together. ‘Well enough, I suppose. Where are you bound now?’

Martin stood, clearing his throat. ‘We have others to visit here, before we leave. We shall see you again, I’m sure.’

He headed for the exit, and Scarlet realised time was up. She gave Seeker a wave, and headed after Martin. Only once they were back in the tunnel, beneath the yellow glow of the bulbs, did Martin speak.

‘That was well played, my apprentice, well played indeed. Information is never given cheap, not down here. You failed to mention the necklace, I noticed.’

‘Uh, yeah, must have slipped my mind. Look, Martin, I didn’t mention it before ‘cause we didn’t have time, but when I put it on, I hear voices.’

His head jerked up. ‘Do you recognise them?’

‘No, but they know about me. They said they were going to kill me.’

‘Did they say why?’

‘Something about charms of Undoing.’

Martin grabbed her hand, nodding at her with eyes wide. ‘Are you sure? That’s exactly what they said?’

‘Uh, yeah, something like, ‘we must find the Slater girl, before she finds the charms of Undoing.’

‘Did they really sound like that?’

‘Like what?’

‘Like a sort of bad James Earl Jones impression?’

She shrugged. ‘Well, maybe not quite so Darth Vader, but it was pretty deep.’

He nodded. ‘That’s terrific, really.’

‘What, that they’re going to kill me?’

‘Oh, no, well, that isn’t particularly good news, but the charms of Undoing may well be the only chance we’ve got. Now we need to figure out where they are.’

‘Yeah, and like, what they are, you know?’

(c) Kayleigh Fulbrook

He nodded, absently, then turned and strode away. ‘Come, we can visit The Healer before we have to get you home.’

‘Does no one around here have normal names?’

He chuckled. ‘Do you not find it useful? I’d have thought naming people by their skill set was a most logical way to behave.’

‘Well, yeah, but what about if you’re a street cleaner, or you do advertising or something? It’s like really bad superhero names.’

He gave her a look, and shook his head. ‘I don’t think you’ll find too many of either of those down here. Come.’

He set off at a march, first through the market, then down one of the many tunnels branching away from it. This one was better lit than the others, and there were doors at irregular intervals, bearing dull metal plaques. Peering at one on the way past, she spotted a ‘Mgc. Alewis Hardsteady, Curses pertaining to matters of the heart.’

‘What is this, some kind of health centre?’

Martin laughed. ‘This is the Underworld. If you can think of it, this is where you can get it.’

‘Ooh, OK, I’m thinking of Johnny Depp, with the Pirates of the Caribbean mustache, but, like, jeans and no top.’ She paused. ‘Right, where is he?’

Martin had stopped, and was staring at her, brows creased together. ‘Is nothing serious?’

She grinned sheepishly. ‘Um, should he have a top on? Is it the nudity bit?’

He sighed, long suffering, and she poked him in the chest. ‘Lighten up, fella, it’s not all doom and gloom.’

‘Actually, I think you might find it is.’

The voice that spoke was familiar, although she couldn’t place it, and when she turned around, she found she didn’t know the face at all. He was remarkably normal, with the worst sort of emo haircut that meant she couldn’t see his eyes, and a big puffer jacket.

He was wearing a smile that made him look about fifteen, but when he lifted his hand, the fire burning on his palm was very serious. ‘Is he from the Council?’ She spoke from the side of her mouth.

‘No, I’m not sure where he’s from.’ Martin raised his voice. ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know you. What can we do for you?’

The manboy smiled, and shook his head. ‘Even in my wildest dreams I didn’t expect you to actually say that. What can you do for me? You can die.’

His hands shot forward, and the fire came hurtling toward them.

Next Installment Monday 17th February

Part One is here

Scarlet squeaked, and yanked the necklace off, clutching it in one hand and holding it away from herself. At the same moment, their guide took her elbow and steered her firmly away from the stall, and back into the press.

She stuffed the necklace in her pocket, avoiding the curious looks from Martin as they rushed through the market. More stalls, more strange-looking people, but eventually they emerged from the crush, out from the corridor of stalls, and came to a crossroads.

Was it still called a crossroads when there were, like, seven corridors? The thin man took them down one without hesitating, and the matting disappeared from beneath their feet, the lights dimming to one naked bulb every ten feet or so. She looked down, watching her squelching converse, and the rat that ran carelessly over her feet.

She shrieked, stopping just short of jumping into Martin’s arms.

‘What is it?’

Martin was there, concern and worry, and her face reddened, glad suddenly for the dim lighting. ‘Umm, nothing, really, sorry, just surprised, that’s all.’

The thin man was smiling. ‘You are deep beneath London. This is more the rat’s home than it will ever be ours. We are trespassing here.’

She nodded, her mouth filling with moisture. Was that supposed to make her feel better? Probably not, thinking about it. They continued, the smell of mold growing stronger, the soft drip of water encroaching on the muffled conversations following them from the market.

The tunnel branched, and as the thin man stepped to the left, she hesitated. The way ahead was dark, the light bulbs continuing in the other direction. ‘Any chance your master lives down that one?’

The thin man shook his head, still walking. Dammit. Martin patted her on the shoulder. ‘Don’t worry, I have the strongest feeling I know who we are going to meet. We have an understanding, he and I.’

The phrase brought back images of the huge scaled man she’d met last time she’d been here, and she shuddered. Was he going to be wanting entertaining again?

She could still see her feet as she followed them into the darkness, but soon even they disappeared. The noises grew louder, the water sounding from all around them, the scratching she was now fairly certain was rats, coming from above and below.

This was a little like being summoned to the head teacher’s office. Her imagination was providing things far worse than what was likely to happen, although, Underworld, skinny guy with a knife? Her imagination was probably getting it just right.

Her feet came back into view, and with them, the walls, slick, and covered in orangy-green slime. The light was blue, almost white, and came from everywhere, slight but strong enough for her to see that the thin man had stopped, and was pushing the wall. With the faintest of groans, the hidden door swung in, and he vanished from view.

Martin followed, and she hurried to get in before she was left alone in the dank tunnel. Beyond lay a small set of steps, which she climbed, and stepped out onto a walkway. The light was bright here, and she squinted as the gloom fell away.

She looked around, mouth hanging open. They stood on the edge of a swimming pool, though not like she was ever going in there. The water was the source of the light, glowing, filling the room with the white iridescence. Despite that, the top of the water was littered with flecks of dirt and dust.

She thought they were alone, and was about to ask the thin man what was going on, when the huge man she’d met before burst from the pool, water streaming from his scales. He came almost completely out of the water, before crashing back down, sending waves over the edge of the pool to lap around her beleaguered Converse.

She stepped back as he came to the side of the pool, resting his arms on it, and staring up at them. His face split apart, the scales shifting like sand from a buried foot emerging from the beach. ‘Scarlet, Martin, how lovely to see you, please, make yourselves comfortable.’

Scarlet looked around for a chair, then back at him. He shrugged. ‘I’m sorry, you’ve come to my private chambers, I don’t entertain many people here. Please, bear with me.’

He lifted himself from the pool, and led them through a doorway on the far side, into a lounge area with seats. The walls were dryer here, and the light came from shuttered, old-school lamps, similar to the one used by the sisters.

It smelled of the sea, salty and ancient, but the chairs were dry and she sunk gratefully into one. The man nodded at them. ‘My name is Seeker, for now.’

Scarlet was struck by the sudden insight that she had no idea what Martin’s real name was. Seeker sat opposite, and folded on long leg over the other. ‘I am sorry to have you brought here like this, but you see, we don’t have a great deal of time.’

‘About three days, I’m guessing.’

He raised an eyebrow, and she found herself staring as his face shifted around. She could watch it for hours, it was better than TV. ‘So you know what is coming?’

She shrugged, finding nonchalance coming easier this time. She was getting better at this. ‘What does any of it have to do with you, if you don’t mind my asking?’

She could feel Martin’s look of surprise, but she ignored it, keeping her smile to a minimum. That was cool, that was better that cool. She was talking to a seven foot tall dude who lived in a swimming pool, beneath Shepherds Bush, and she was acting all calm and collected. Hah.

Seeker sat back, steepling his fingers before him. ‘Well, you see, I have an interest in the world continuing past Christmas day, and—’

‘Why are you called Seeker? Why not Dave, or Ahmed?’

That was less cool. That was, in fact, very much uncool, and a bit geeky. Dammit.

‘I find things that people want. In this instance, I am finding information. Someone is attempting to raise the Undying, which means someone has found the grave. If there is someone out there with that knowledge, I should be able to find it.’

Martin spoke for the first time since they’d got in there. ‘What will you do with it, once you have it?’

Seeker spread his hands apart, and smiled. ‘I will ensure that no one else has it, of course.’

‘So why do you want us?’

The smile widened. ‘Well, a little bird told me that you have a very clever computer, and that computer might have given you some information which may prove very useful to my search.’

‘A little bird? Do you mean twitter?’

‘Friends of mine. Friends who have both the time and inclination to browse Tumblr.’

Scarlet blinked. It was one thing to be deep beneath London talking to a guy who looked like a cross between the mummy and the little mermaid, it was entirely something else when he started talking about Tumblr.’

‘You’re telling me you use Tumblr?’

He shook his head, sniggering. ‘God no, what a terrible thought. I tried facebook, for a time, but it’s such a time suck, and I always end up feeling… diminished.’ He shook his head, frowning. ‘But some of my people do, of course.’

He leaned further forward, holding one hand up before him. ‘So tell me, Scarlet, what did you find on your Tumblr account this morning?’

‘What’s it worth to me?’

He opened his eyes a little wider, then grinned, and clicked a finger. She saw them from the corners of her eyes, dark figures appearing from the two doors, spreading out around the room.

‘Well, your life, for one thing.’

Next Installment Friday 14th February

Part One is here

Note: Another wonderful entry to the cover competition in this week’s post, this time from Kayleigh Fulbrook.

Underground. Why was she surprised? You’d figure if you could afford to hire some crazy, knife-wielding freak to collect people for you, you’d live in some fancy penthouse in Chelsea. But oh no, it had to be underground. They were bustled through the chained up gates on Shepherd’s Bush green and down the wet stone steps.

She tried to step over the leaf mulch that clogged the bottom, but there was nowhere else to put her feet, and within moments her converse were soaked through. She sighed. The one item of clothing mum got right, and this was a second pair ruined in six months.

The thin man was in front of them for a moment, muttering something before he shoved the rickety doors inward, and they swung smoothly open, belying the impression given by the knackered rusty hinges. Then she felt the knife in her back again and with a whimper, stepped forward into the darkness.

Martin nudged her as the lights of the green faded behind them. ‘We’ve come to the right place.’

She looked at him, just making out the silhouette of his profile. ‘Huh?’

‘This is the Underworld. I haven’t used this entrance before, but it is all linked. I am intrigued to know who wishes to see us.’

‘Intrigued? Is that like, frightened, wet and angry?’

His chuckle got lost in the gloom, before lights appeared before them, and the darkness crept quietly away as they walked closer.

(c) Kayleigh Fulbrook

Minutes later, the tunnel opened up and they were in a place that reminded her of the Winter wonderland in Hyde Park. A corridor of stalls, on both sides, lit by hanging bulbs and candles, random lamps and fairy lights. From above, she could hear the snickering of what she thought, or hoped, were bats.

The floor was covered in a sort of hessian mat thing, and every footstep squelched as the water escaped from her shoes. Their guide was talking to a man stood at the junction, and Scarlet took a moment to look around.

The nearest stall was covered in wooden cabinets, each filled with tiny drawers. She opened one at random, and found a dark, pungent-smelling weed, that made her eyes water.

‘Are you buying, or just trying to steal something?’

She jumped, shoving the drawer closed. ‘Sorry, just looking, I didn’t know what was in there, my bad.’

She looked up, over the cabinets, and gasped, mouth dropping open. The owner of the voice, and she assumed, the stall, was green, and suspiciously warty, and was, quite possibly, a goblin. An actual goblin.

He was glaring at her, and she gave him a smile. ‘Are these, like, spell ingredients?’

He continued to glare for a moment, then nodded reluctantly. ‘Finest in London, excellent prices. You need anything?’

‘Well…’ she checked her pockets. She had a few quid, and hauled her spell book out, flicking through it. She’d been wanting to try this levitation spell for ages, only Martin didn’t have any… where was it, oh yeah, ‘avrid root.’

‘Um, yeah, have you got ‘Avrid root please?’

The goblin nodded knowingly. ‘Fancy having a fly, do you? Popular this one, here you go.’

He leaned over the stall, pulling out one of the drawers and she took out a small chunk of spongy root, so dark it was almost black. ‘Um, how much?’

The goblin looked at what she held, rocked his head back and forth, and sniffed. ‘Say, half a pint.’

‘I’m sorry, half a pint of what?’ She knew before she asked, but she really wasn’t willing to even entertain it. Maybe it was beer, maybe. Nah, not a chance.

The goblin gave her a look. ‘Blood.’

She sighed. Always with the gross, always. ‘Look, I’ve got like, three pound, fifty, will that do?’

Another look, then he stuck his hand out and she dropped the coins in. She couldn’t help noticing the long, ragged finger nails and browny-red stuff stuck beneath them. With a shudder, she thanked him, and stuffed the root into one pocket, before the thin man appeared beside her.

‘No time for shopping.’

‘Oh, but time for you to have a natter, right?’

That earned her a glare, and she noticed the knife was out again, back and forth, back and forth. He motioned with his head and they set out, moving slower now as they wound their way through the shoppers. The market was busy, and it wasn’t just the sellers who were weird. They passed all sorts, from more goblins, to tiny creatures travelling in groups on these sort of trolley things that got them up to the right height, to people who looked like trees, towering above the stalls.

They were stuck in the press for a moment, and she watched one of the tree guys bend over, his head coming in close to the stall. His voice was deep, and growling, and she shook her head in wonder as he chatted about the weather to the woman behind the counter. The woman was as wide as Scarlet was tall, and it took her longer than it should to spot the third eye, nestled amongst wispy hair on her forehead.

They moved on, Scarlet staring in every direction at once, her fear momentarily displaced by the wonders they were passing. Martin nudged her again. ‘This stall, on the left? Anything look familiar?’

She paused, eyes lighting up as she saw hundreds of necklaces draped over cushions covered in velvet. It looked like a typical jewelers, until she looked closer, and noticed that many of the chains supported pieces of bone, or miniature demon charms, or even teeth. Uh.

Martin had moved ahead, tapping the thin man on the shoulder, and the two of them began talking. Scarlet stared at the necklaces, trying to check them one at a time, until a cough made her glance up. The man who ran the stall was disappointingly normal, but he was holding a necklace up, the faintest of smiles on his face.

She stared at it, making sure. It was the right one. ‘How did you know?’

His smile widened. ‘It is my job to know.’

She waited for something more, but that was it, apparently, end of explanation. There was something refreshing about the simplicity of it. A bit creepy, too.

‘How much is it?’

The man rocked his head to one side, far further than normal, and smiled. ‘What is your name?’

It came naturally this time. ‘Joanna Slater, how about you?’

‘Call me Howard, for now. Well, Joanna. There is nothing I need right now, but how about if I needed something in the future? Perhaps I could call on you?’

Her skin was crawling, something about the way he was looking at her, like her cat stared at his dinner. It sounded like a deal, but that was like believing when a teacher told you the lesson was going to be fun. She glanced back, and saw Martin and the thin man finish their discussion, both turning to look at her.

‘Yeah, sure fine, whatever, sounds like a deal.’

The smile stayed fixed as he passed her the necklace, and as it touched her hand, it hissed, like her skin was hot and the chain, freezing. She held it up, staring at it as it spun slowly before her eyes. She slipped it over her head, and as the jewel touched the skin of her chest, voices leapt into her mind.

‘We are nearly there, soon we shall have him.’

‘Be not too eager, accolyte, there is work to be done still.’

‘Does anyone want a cup of tea?’

‘She needs to be found, this Slater girl, before she discovers the charms of Undoing.’

‘But what will we do when we find her?’

‘What will we do? We will kill her of course.’

Next Instalment Wednesday 12th February

Part One is here

‘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.’