Sarah Brennan - The Demon's Lexicon

It occurred to Nick that this picture was what Alan had been thinking of when he was standing gazing into their car boot. As soon as he was alone he’d gone straight to it, as if being near to it — even if he couldn’t see it — was his only possible source of comfort.

He hadn’t come to Nick.

Alan was sentimental enough to keep pictures. The couple of girls who’d actually been his girlfriends had been awarded a place of pride in his wallet. He had a school picture of Nick and the picture of Mum and Dad on their wedding day framed by his bedside.

It was keeping a secret from Nick that was different. He’d kept only one secret from Nick before: the letters he used to rise early for and collect from the postbox. Nick rose even earlier to cut them up, and eventually they had stopped coming.

Nick wondered if this was a picture of the letter girl. He picked it up and looked her over more closely, but he couldn’t see anything special about her. The letters had been more than a year ago. Why should Alan still keep her picture? He flipped it over and looked at the back. TONY’S PHOTOS was printed there in gray, but over that in a black sprawl was the name “Marie.”

Nick heard Alan’s limping step up the stairs in plenty of time to put the photograph back where he had found it, and when his brother came into the room, he saw Alan look at the shelf in alarm.

There was no innocent explanation, then.

Alan had not forgotten that the picture was in the book. He had not bought a book with a picture already inside it. He had deliberately hidden this girl, this Marie, away from him.

Nick remembered the girl’s smiling face and scowled, staring at the floor. He felt intensely uncomfortable. It seemed wrong that this girl should matter to Alan, when Nick didn’t even know who she was. What was so important about her, that he had to hide her from his own brother?

Nick planned to find out.

That night Nick slept on the kitchen floor in their new home. The cork tiles were curling up at the edges like pieces of old bread, rough against his stomach when his T-shirt rode up, and he hadn’t brought down a pillow because he didn’t want to be comfortable. He dozed uneasily, feeling like a guard dog unable to rest because he had to be on the alert for dangers outside.

But it wasn’t anything outside that he was waiting for.

He was in one of the dark places between sleep and simply having your eyes shut when he heard the sound of the front door clicking softly open. His body moved before he thought: He crossed the hall in two swift strides, fast and soft as a predator. He always found it easier to hunt than think.

When he launched himself at Alan, he did think: He remembered to strike on Alan’s left side. They went tumbling into the grass of the front yard, and Nick landed crouched beside his brother. He’d been careful not to hurt Alan’s leg, not to even touch it, and now he felt so angry he wished he’d done it after all.

“You’re not leaving,” he snarled.

Alan lay flat on his back, looking up at the sky. The full moon caught his glasses and made the edges flash brief silver. “If they can track me,” he began, “it’s not safe—”

Nick laughed harshly. “When have we ever been safe?”

How safe would Alan be, he wanted to demand, by himself and with a demon’s mark? Maybe he would be all right; Alan could take care of himself, but Nick wasn’t about to take that chance. Nick wasn’t about to let him go.

Nick was breathing fast and his vision was blurred a little, turning the edges of the night hazy and pale. He felt as if he’d been exercising too hard. He was just angry at the thought that Alan could leave, so easily, for any reason at all.

Alan sighed and sat up, drawing his good leg up to his chest and linking an arm around it. Nick knew this look from the days when Mum had her screaming fits, or when a teacher wanted to talk about Nick’s reading. Alan looked tired and unhappy, and the expression fit on his face too comfortably, as if he was used to feeling that way and didn’t let it affect him too much. He was too busy being concerned about what other people might feel.

“Nick,” he said gently, “it isn’t that I want to go. It wouldn’t be for very long. Just until the next Goblin Market, just so that you and Olivia would be safe.”

Mum was the one the magicians were after, the one they’d always been after. Mum was the one who’d caused all this, and in spite of everything, Mum was the one Alan was worried sick about.

“I’ll leave her,” Nick said.

The night seemed very still suddenly. Nick stayed crouched and watchful, waiting for Alan to make any movement, willing him to give in. Alan shut his eyes and swallowed, looking so disappointed in Nick and so scared. For their mother.

“I swear I will,” Nick said, voice low, threatening and promising, meaning every word. “If you go, I’ll leave her. I’ll come find you. What do you think would happen to her if we both left?”

Nick didn’t lie. He’d seen Alan lie to people his whole life and every time he opened a book he saw words twist across pages, their meaning slipping away from him. Words were treacherous enough without him telling lies.

When he said something, he knew Alan would believe it.

Alan opened his eyes and looked at Nick. His eyes were bleak.

“All right, Nick,” he whispered. “I won’t go.”

Nick spoke with difficulty. “All right.”

He grabbed the bag Alan had been carrying, climbed to his feet, and went to the door without casting another look at his brother still sitting in the grass. He was tired, and he didn’t want to think anymore about Alan trying to leave.

When he dropped the bag into Alan’s room, he saw his brother had left a note on his pillow.

Nick sat on Alan’s bed and tried to read it. He needed to concentrate to read, and his mind was all over the place, thoughts wild and tangled, and the words went wild and tangled too. They looked like nothing but inky thorns spreading across the blank white page.

He caught one sentence, which was I’m going to a place where I know I will be welcome.

It made him remember the picture of that girl and look across the room. There was only one gap to be seen in the crowded bookshelves. Alan had planned to leave him, but he’d meant to take the book and the hidden picture wherever he went.

Nick stared at the letter and felt that sharp urge to hurt something again. He palmed a knife and cut it up, once, twice, three times until the words were gone and the letter was nothing but tattered white fragments.

A slight noise made Nick lift his head. He saw Alan hesitating in the doorway. He couldn’t read his face any more than he could those words. He wondered how long Alan had been standing there, watching Nick slice up his good-bye letter.

They looked at each other without speaking, and in the silence Nick wondered if Alan had told him another lie: if he’d wanted to go to that girl. If he did want to leave, after all.

Alan cleared his throat. “You were right. I was being stupid.”

“No kidding,” Nick said roughly.

“I panicked when that message came,” Alan explained, leaning heavily against the door frame. “I couldn’t help it. I don’t want to be a danger to you, and I don’t know what to do. But if they tried this, they’ll try something else. Running away won’t solve anything. I have to think of a plan. I have to do something to settle this once and for all.”

Alan’s voice gathered determination as he spoke. If he thought he was going to change Black Arthur’s mind then he was dreaming, but it was familiar and soothing for Nick to see his brother ready to plan their way out of every situation.

Alan picked C%">is up the bag Nick had carried upstairs, and Nick crossed the room to take it from him.