The Darkening King. Justin Fisher
his folds before spitting him out like a mouthful of chewed food and into one of Mavis’s green recycling bins.
A shaken Ned closed the lid on the unconscious assassin, quickly and quietly.
“Thanks, Gorrn.”
His familiar oozed back to the ground before blending into the shadows.
“You there, Whiskers?”
“Scree.”
“I know Dad told you to be quiet and keep our cover, but next time someone comes at me with a knife can you assume the cover’s been blown and, you know, do something useful?”
The Debussy Mark Twelve remained silent.
Ned’s heart was pounding for more reasons than he could count. For one thing, Barbarossa’s minions were dangerously close, and not for the first time. Had it not been for Gorrn, the assassin would have ended him then and there. But that wasn’t what was really troubling him. What really scared him was that he still couldn’t work his Engine, no matter how hard he tried. How was he ever going to defeat the Darkening King if he had no powers? Not to mention the fact that if his parents found out about his face-off in the alley, they’d wrap him in so much protective cotton wool that he’d end up suffocating. He’d tell them later, after the tea room and in his own good time. He hid the gob’s Zimmer frame down the alleyway and out of sight, and paced back to the corner of Mavis’s tea shop.
“Not a word about this, from either of you. Not till we get back, OK?”
“Arr.”
“Scree.”
“I thought I told you – no talking to the mouse, Ned!”
Ned looked up to see that his dad had come back out of Mavis’s to get him.
“Sorry, Dad. I thought, erm … there was nobody about so …”
His dad cocked his head slightly.
“You OK, son? You look a bit ruffled.”
Gorrn shifted guiltily along the ground by Ned’s foot.
“I’m fine, Dad, just a bit nervous, you know? About who it is we’re going to see.”
“Well, keep your wits about you. Danger could be lurking anywhere.”
“Yes, Dad, anywhere …”
“Do you think he – it – will actually be there?” Ned asked his mum.
“I hope so, darling. I’m so tired of all the running and chasing. All the grinning and pretending we’re on holiday.”
“You know, we could lose the grinning? It’s not like everyone’s always happy when they’re on holiday. We could pretend we’ve come down with some sort of tummy bug – you know, from all the exotic hotel food?”
His mum chuckled. “Oh, Ned, we’re on the Isle of Wight, not Outer Mongolia. The food’s good but hardly exotic.”
“You’re right, Mongolia was last week,” smiled back Ned.
“Was it? Oh yes, that dreadful business with the cyclops. Do you know, I thought it was Spain for some reason.”
“That was the week before.”
Ned watched as his dad passed Mavis a brown envelope full of used notes. She peered in and nodded appreciatively, then returned the favour by passing something small over the counter and tipping her head towards a door at the rear of the shop in a way that said, “Over there but I didn’t tell you.”
The happy holidaymakers that were Ned and his family made their way down a cramped corridor, past a loo, towards the door at the back. They walked through and found themselves in a small windowless room with red velvet wallpaper and a pair of long-backed mahogany chairs arranged either side of a tall mirror.
Ned saw it and sighed. “Really?”
“Yes, really,” said his dad.
“I thought we agreed, no more mirrors!”
Olivia Armstrong managed to look quite sheepish, which was not something the ex Mother Superior and Circus of Marvels agent was prone to do.
“Ned, we have avoided mirrors at every possible turn. We have travelled in the cargo holds of freighter ships, aeroplanes, a military troop carrier … even strapped to the bottom of a horse-drawn cart. This is completely unavoidable. Where we’re going isn’t on any map – it’s in the mirror-verse.”
Ned’s few experiences of stepping through mirror-portals had not for the most part been pleasant.
“In it?!” he shrieked at a far higher pitch than he’d intended.
“Safest safe house in existence. Son, this is the closest we’ve come in months. The last three informants were murdered before we even got there and Spain … well, Spain was an unmitigated disaster.”
His dad was not wrong. The “informant” they’d gone to meet had turned out to be an agent for the BBB, and had it not been for some quick thinking from Olivia, and Gorrn providing cover for a speedy getaway, the Armstrongs’ mission would have come to an end. It had only been after the battle over At-lan that Ned and his family had discovered who the BBB actually were. A josser network of highly trained spies, seemingly with unending resources and a fascination with the Hidden in all their forms. Their goal? No one really knew. But the BBB were getting better, smarter and more cunning. Everywhere the Armstrongs turned the message was the same – they were after Ned and his family and would go to any lengths to find them.
“Yes, it was a disaster, Dad, and your sources could be wrong about this too. We don’t know what’s on the other side of that mirror.”
“Nor what’s behind us.”
For a moment Ned thought about Barbarossa’s assassin still lying unconscious in a wheelie bin outside. And there could be more on their way.
“Fine,” managed Ned.
“Right,” said his mum. “Let’s go and find ourselves some trouble, eh?”
Given that trouble was regularly finding them, maybe turning the tables wasn’t such a bad idea.
His dad held the sliver of glass that Mavis had given him, and the Armstrongs all joined hands. Then quietly and without fuss they proceeded to walk through the mirror.
That was the thing about trying to find a Demon – they always seemed to hide in the most awkward places.