Gerry moves as carefully and quietly as he can, boots in hand, paying special attention to the floorboards. It’s not that it’s early, or at least not so early that his mother is sleeping…which is part of the problem, really, that she’s awake and likely to hear him if he’s not cautious. So he concentrates on each step, putting his weight just right, moving as slowly and smoothly as possible so nothing rattles or jingles, trying to summon his inner Martin—he’s always been extremely light on his feet, it’s almost uncanny at times. If he can just make it to the steps without—
“Gerard? Come in here.”
Ah. Shit.
For a split second, Gerry considers pretending he didn’t hear her and making a break for it, but she will come after him, or send someone after him, and he doesn’t know who—or what—she’s in league with this week. He quickly sets his boots down and steps into them before opening the door and coming through, trying to swagger like he’s walking around with his shoes untied on purpose. “Yes, Mum?”
His mother peers at him over the top of her pince-nez glasses, her habitual scowl in place. She never wears those glasses where anyone but him or Aunt Lily—or sometimes Melanie and Martin—can see; she’s incredibly vain about a lot of things. Even Uncle Roger doesn’t know she wears them. “Were you going somewhere?”
Gerry considers his options for a split second, then shrugs. “Out.”
His mother waits, but he doesn’t elaborate. For once, she chooses not to push him. “Pick up a bottle of aspirin while you’re at it. And be back in an hour. We have a train to catch.”
“Where are we going?” Gerry tries to remember if there’s something planned he’s forgotten about. He doesn’t think so. He would have said something to Melanie and Martin if they did. They’ve been making plans, or at least firm intentions, for their summer break for weeks now, and today’s the first real day of it. He can probably put them off for a day, though, as long as his mother wants to go somewhere local.
“Brussels,” his mother replies, dashing that hope instantly, and then further crushes it by adding, “To start with, anyway. My contact wants to meet us there and will take us where we need to go after.”
Gerry definitely doesn’t like the sound of that. It could mean they’re going somewhere within walking distance. It could mean they’re meeting someone with a personal car or a private plane. It could also mean they’re going to point him at the mouth of a pitch-black cave and tell him to go retrieve whatever’s inside it. It definitely does not mean he wants to go.
“Do I have to go with you?” The words pop out of his mouth before he can stop them, or even think about them.
As soon as his brain catches up to his tongue, everything inside him goes cold. He has never, not once, not in his entire life, argued with his mother about one of these expeditions. She says come along and he comes—sometimes dragging his feet, sometimes shaking in his boots, but always, always doing what she asks, demands really, without question or pause. He’s never refused to go, or asked if there was another option. Because he knows there isn’t. There is only his mother, and what his mother wants.
The resentment over that has been building for a while, at least since November, when the trip took just a little longer, Gerard and he missed Melanie’s birthday. It’s been fueled by listening to Melanie and Martin talk about school and activities and the like. Gerry’s never been particularly interested in attending a traditional school, he learns plenty, but it’s been slowly dawning on him (more slowly than it should have) that what he’s learning is what his mother wants him to learn, not always what he needs to know. Or even wants to know. He might not have a lot of use for some of the things in Martin’s maths book, but it looks fascinating. He’s even been considering making an argument for him to attend the local school starting in the fall, just to get an official diploma.
He knows what she’ll probably say to that—common schools are for common children, and you have the blood of the Von Closens in your veins—but he has no idea what she’ll say to him whining about getting dragged off on one of her work trips again.
Mary Keay removes her glasses to hit him with the full force of her glare. His instinct is to apologize, to back down immediately, but he holds his tongue. She’s going to be furious with him either way. He might as well be honest.
After several long moments of silence, she says coldly, “What else would you do, Gerard?”
“Stay in London?” Gerry gestures around them. “I’m fifteen. I’m not a little kid anymore.”
“You’re still a child,” his mother says. “For a night or two, perhaps, but you are far from old enough to spend potential weeks on your own.”
“You’ve taught me how to defend myself,” Gerry protests. Against magical threats more than mundane ones, but still, that should be good enough, right? “Besides, I wouldn’t even be on my own all that much. I’ve got plans.”
A look of disgust crosses his mother’s face. “Plans.”
Gerry stands his ground, with difficulty. “With Melanie and Martin. They’re on vacation, Mum. I just want to spend time with them. I never get to do that, and when we’re home during the school terms, they’re busy except on weekends. This is the one chance we get to have together. Besides, if they get time off from learning, why don’t I?”
The look on his mother’s face is a terrible thing. Gerry suddenly knows she’s about to skin him and bind him into her Book, where he’ll forever be her servant. He tenses, ready to spring the instant she goes for him. He’s not as nimble as Melanie or quick as Martin, but he might be able to dodge her and make it to the shop. Maybe if he trips over his still-untied boot laces, he’ll gain enough momentum from tumbling down the steps to give him a decent head start, and surely she won’t kill him if he makes it outside and into public.
And then, suddenly and inexplicably, her anger clears away. “You want to spend time with Martin and Melanie? Well, why didn’t you say so?” She gets to her feet. “Come along.”
Gerry blinks, taken completely off-guard. “What?”
“Don’t waste time, Gerard. Come with me.” His mother pushes in her chair and closes the book she was studying—which is, in fact, the Book. Before he can think up an escape plan, she grabs his arm and drags him out of the flat.
His mother’s car is a Vauxhall Viva that’s at least ten years older than Gerry and about as stubborn. Because she drives it so rarely, she hasn’t bothered to fix a lot of minor things that aren’t technically affecting its ability to run but definitely make it less than optimal, like the fact that the passenger side door has a broken lock that won’t disengage no matter what they do or the fact that turning the dial on the radio past a very narrow set of stations causes the indicator lights to turn on and refuse to stop until the dial is fixed and the car is restarted. (Gerry doesn’t even know how that’s possible, but he’s not a mechanic or an electrician and has simply concluded that the car is probably possessed.) His mother’s solution is to open the driver’s side and physically shove Gerry into it. She barely gives him time to get over the center console, let alone properly oriented into his seat, before she starts the car and pulls away from the shop. Her driving is less terrifying than the people and things she usually interacts with, but not by much.
Gerry briefly contemplates rolling down his window and screaming for help, or possibly bailing out the window, but the crank is rattling around in the backseat somewhere.
After not nearly as long as the journey reasonably should take and several near misses—including one with one of the red double-decker buses that Gerry is prepared to swear takes at least a decade off his lifespan—they pull up in front of the Blackwood-King residence. His mother pulls the car in behind Uncle Roger’s still old but much better maintained sedan, switches off the engine, and gets out. “Come,” she orders Gerry again, and he scrambles to comply. His boot laces briefly tangle in the gear shaft, and he momentarily debates leaving the boots behind, but manages to free himself and scramble after her as she marches up to the door and knocks.
Uncle Roger opens the door, looking very surprised. He’s clearly getting ready for work, but he’s completely polite. “Good morning, Mary, Gerard. Is everything all right?”
“Do you have a few minutes, Roger?” Gerry’s mother says, in the same tone of voice she usually speaks to Uncle Roger in—a coldly, painfully polite voice with a brittle edge to it that indicates he is testing the limits of her patience. “I have a proposition for you and Liliana.”
Surprise and hope rise up and mingle in Gerry’s chest. She’s actually…considering his request. Even come over to talk to Uncle Roger and Aunt Lily about the idea. It must be his lucky day.
“Of course, of course, come on in.” Uncle Roger steps back to allow them in, then addresses Gerry. “I think Melanie and Martin are awake if you’d like to head upstairs. Melanie definitely is, anyway, and I can’t imagine her letting Martin sleep in, even if it is the holidays.”
“Thanks, Uncle Roger.” Gerry offers him a warm smile, steps out of his boots and tucks them by the door, and takes the stairs two at a time before his mother can stop him or call him back.
Technically, the master suite is up here, but Lily can’t manage the stairs, so she and Roger have the smaller room on the ground floor. Gerry remembers the fight Melanie and Martin had over which of them would take the master suite—both of them wanted the other to have it—but eventually Martin prevailed with the very compelling argument that Melanie sleeps more heavily than he does, so if she has the master suite he can slip past her to use the bathroom or take a shower without waking her, while she’s less likely to do the same. Her door is ajar, and Gerry can hear voices coming from behind it, so he taps on the door and then pushes it open further, enough to poke his head in. “Can I come in?”
“Gerry! Get in here.” Melanie waves him in impatiently but doesn’t get up. “And shut the door, would you?”
Gerry complies. Martin and Melanie are both dressed for the day—Melanie in dark denim dungaree shorts over a bright yellow t-shirt, Martin in a simple blue and white striped shirt and khaki cargo shorts—and sitting on Melanie’s bed, Melanie’s legs dangling over the edge and Martin cross-legged behind her as he brushes out her glossy dark brown hair. It’s the first time Gerry’s seen it loose in a while and he hasn’t realized it’s been getting so long.
“Morning,” Martin says, peering over Melanie’s head with a cheery but slightly confused smile. “I thought we were meeting in the usual spot.”
“We were, but Mum brought me over instead.” Gerry comes closer. “Can I join you?”
“Yeah, of course.” Melanie pats the bed next to her. “How’d you convince your mum to give you a ride?”
“I didn’t know the alleged car was even running,” Martin murmurs. “Neens, you want a braid or a bun?”
“Braid. Donna told me the way you did it last week was really pretty.”
Martin nods and begins separating Melanie’s hair into three equal bunches. Gerry picks up Melanie’s brush and begins getting the knots out of his own hair. “It’s running. Just not well. And I didn’t…exactly ask her for a ride. She’s planning to go out of town.”
Martin freezes for just a moment. Melanie’s shoulders slump. “Oh. You’re going away again?”
“Well, that’s the thing.” Gerry recounts the conversation he and his mother had before leaving the shop. “I was really just sort of hoping she’d say I was fine as long as I checked in with Aunt Lily or something, but she told Uncle Roger she had a ‘proposition’ for him, so I’m wondering if maybe she’s going to ask if I can stay with you all while she’s gone.”
Martin brightens. “That’d be wicked awesome!”
“It’d save loads of time with hanging out,” Melanie agrees. “And if your mum’s gone for a while…”
“I won’t miss Martin’s birthday,” Gerry completes. “Maybe I can even enroll at your school.”
“You wouldn’t be in our classes, though.”
“No, but I could get a proper education, you know? At least some legitimate learning. Maybe even take—what do you call them? My O levels?”
“They don’t call them that anymore. It’d be your GSCE exams.” Martin taps Melanie’s shoulder. “Hand me a hair tie, would you?”
Melanie complies, handing over one of the twisty, loopy ties with the bright plastic balls on either end that she still favors even though they’re all stretching out of shape. “I don’t know if they’d let you do that, but it would be pretty neat to have you at our school, I won’t lie.”
“It all depends on if Aunt Lily says yes, I guess,” Gerry says. He knows Uncle Roger will agree in a heartbeat, so in the end it really does hinge on Aunt Lily. He wonders if he should have stayed downstairs after all to plead his case—like the fact that he’s happy to “watch” Melanie and Martin so Aunt Lily won’t be bothered, or that he doesn’t eat much really. Which isn’t exactly true, but it’s closer to true than not, so it counts, right?
Martin smooths a hand down Melanie’s braid. “There, is that good?”
Melanie touches her hair, then jumps up to run into the bathroom and look in the mirror. Gerry nudges Martin. “Hey, would you do my hair like that too?”
Martin’s cheeks turn faintly pink. “You don’t have to tease me.”
“No, I’m serious. That is really nice. And it’s hot out there.”
“Maybe if you didn’t wear twice your body weight in black leather all the time…” Martin takes the brush from Gerry’s hand. “Turn around, then.”
Melanie comes back, beaming, and beams even wider when she sees what Martin is doing. “Hold on, I’ll get you a hair tie.”
“Oh, yeah, I didn’t think about that.” Gerry just hopes Melanie doesn’t come back with a pink one. “So once Mum gives in and lets me stay, what are we doing today?”
Melanie, of course, has a list of things she wants to do, and it takes Gerry a few minutes to convince her they don’t have to do all of them today. He’s just about to suggest a first stop when there’s a knock on the door.
“Come in!” Melanie calls.
Uncle Roger opens the door and smiles to see them. “Melanie, you look lovely as always, sweetheart.”
Melanie smiles up at Martin. “Martin did my hair for me.”
“And mine,” Gerry adds.
Uncle Roger laughs, not in a mean way. “I can see that. Well, when you’re finished braiding Gerard’s hair, Martin, you can get your things together.”
Martin freezes. “Wh-what?” he stammers.
“Dad?” Melanie gets to her feet, her whole body tense. Gerry suspects she’s about to start a fight and just barely keeping herself controlled. “What do you mean, Martin can get his things together?”
Uncle Roger blinks and turns to Gerry. “You didn’t tell them?”
“We were a little busy,” Gerry hedges, because he’s not sure what he’s supposed to be telling them.
“Huh.” Uncle Roger turns back to Melanie and Martin. “Well. Exciting news! Your Aunt Mary is getting ready to go on one of her buying trips, and since it’s your summer holidays, she and Gerard thought you might like to go along and help. It’s a good opportunity to start learning more about the business, and you’ll get to travel. Won’t that be fun?”
Melanie does not visibly relax at this. In fact, she turns towards Gerry and Martin, and her expression is mingled anger and panic. Gerry is, admittedly, not sure how to respond either. There’s a sense of things spiraling out of control, to say nothing of the fact that he definitely did not want Melanie and Martin any more involved in this than they already are. His mother is going to exploit Martin’s talent for picking Leitners, and heaven help them if she realizes he can see the marks of the Fourteen on people too.
Martin, however, smooths his hand down Gerry’s braid in the same gesture he did for Melanie and speaks in a bright, excited tone. “Oh, that does sound like fun, Dad! Thanks for letting us go. How long should we pack for?”
“Just a week,” Uncle Roger says, and Gerry breathes a silent sigh of relief until he adds, “I’m sure there will be places to wash your clothes if you’re gone longer than that. And I’ll make sure you each have a bit of money to buy things if you need them.”
“Thanks, Dad,” Melanie echoes. She doesn’t sound quite as excited as Martin does, but she darts over and hugs her father anyway. “Can you tell Aunt Mary we’ll be down in just a few minutes?”
“Of course, little moth.” Uncle Roger bends down and kisses the top of Melanie’s head, then extracts himself and heads out of the room.
The second the door closes behind him, Martin sighs heavily. This time, his voice is more resigned than excited. “So where are we going?”
“Brussels, to start with.” Gerry echoes his mother’s words. He twists around to see Martin, so pale his freckles stand out like lint on black velvet, wringing his hands hard. Gerry reaches over and gently takes them to keep him from digging his fingernails into his wrists. “You’re not really excited?”
Martin shakes his head. “I like the idea of spending time with you two, but not your mum. And…what is she going to want us to do?”
“I dunno.” Gerry looks over at Melanie. “You know that isn’t what I wanted, right?”
“Yeah, I know.” Melanie crosses back to the bed and hugs Martin tightly. “How come you sounded so happy before, then?”
“What good would it have done to tell Dad that actually, we want to stay here in London? At best he’d tell Aunt Mary and Gerry would have to go off without us, which none of us want, and at worse Mum would drag herself up here and scream at us for being lazy, ungrateful brats and then we’d get in trouble for making her overexert herself on top of that and we’d probably still end up having to go.” Martin shrugs. “And he wouldn’t understand why we’re scared anyway. At least if he tells Mum and Aunt Mary we’re looking forward to it, they’ll either think we don’t know what’s really going on or that we’re brave enough to face it, so Aunt Mary will think twice about trying to feed us to something.”
Martin’s only twelve. Gerry hates that he already knows how to maneuver the adults in their lives to keep them safe. “I guess you’re right. I still don’t have to like it.”
“That’s fair. I don’t like it either.” Martin slides to the edge of the bed. “Let me go put a bag together. We’re taking the train, right?”
“Yeah, out of Waterloo, I think.”
Martin nods. “Meet you at the top of the stairs in five minutes?”
“Sure thing.” Melanie is already going for her bag.
It’s probably closer to ten minutes before they’re downstairs in the living room, Melanie and Martin with bags over their shoulders and smiles on their faces, Gerry with his hair neatly braided back and his hands in his pockets; his mother gives him the hairy eyeball, but says nothing. Aunt Lily lectures them about behaving and listening to their aunt; Uncle Roger hugs them both and gives them a couple of folded bills, and then they’re out and attempting to maneuver their way into the backseat of the Vauxhall.
“Gerard and I have to gather our things,” his mother tells Melanie and Martin as they pull away from the house. “Then we’ll be on our way. Martin, I’m sending you to the shop to pick up a bottle of aspirin while we do that.”
“Yes, Aunt Mary,” Martin says obediently.
“We’ll go over what I expect of you once we’re on the train. Mind you’re back quickly. This has already set us back.”
“Yes, Aunt Mary.”
“Good.” Gerry’s mother goes back to driving. Gerry doesn’t dare twist around to look at his brother and sister, but unease and nerves churn in his stomach and make him want to roll down the window, lean out of it, and throw up.
What awful things do they have in store for them on this trip?