Sarah Brennan - The Demon's Lexicon

Her clasp around his neck, more palm than icicle fingers, was firm. It was as if she thought he might try to get away.

“Do you think I’m afraid of you?” Nick asked.

“I hope not,” she said. “There is something else I think you should know. Anzu is working for the Obsidian Circle.”

“Oh, so I shouldn’t trust him,” Nick said. “In future, I should only summon you.”

Liannan nodded.

Nick laughed. “Demons work for anyone who can call them,” he said. “Do you think I don’t know that? Do you think I don’t know better than to trust any demon? Don’t try to play your tricks on me. I have another question. Name your price.”

Liannan sighed like a tired child and rested her head on his shoulder. He felt her chilly breath running down the back of his neck, making him shiver every time she spoke.

“My dear,” she said. “My darling, my beloved. What do these words mean? I suppose you know now.”

“I know.”

Nick meant his tone to be brutal, meant it to turn the words into an offense, but the demon lifted a face to him that was as radiant as sunlight on miles of snow.

“I want some warmth to take back with me,” she whispered, her voice an icy breeze. “Surely you remember — a time when you were warm.”

“That’s your price?” Nick asked, to seal the bargain.

“That’s my price,” said Liannan. “A moment of your life.”

If he failed to pay the price, she could take anything she wanted.

“Tell me where the Obsidian Circle are going,” Nick said. “And you can take it.”

The demon nodded and stood on tiptoe to press her soft, cold mouth to Nick’s. Nick shut his eyes and tried, as her kiss chilled him and her icicle fingers scrabbled against his skin, to think of a time when he had been warm.

He shivered, struggled against panic, and remembered being cold.

Liannan had mentioned his father. Perhaps it was that which reminded Nick of the time right after they had lost him. They were living in Scotland then, in the smallest, cheapest flat Alan had been able to find. Alan, injured and unable to walk, was not sure how to make Mum go out to work, and their heat had been cut off in the middle of winter.

Through the thin walls, Nick heard Alan crying every night. Nick had not been sure if he was supposed to cry too. He had never cried in his life, and he did not particularly want to do it now. He just lay curled in bed, his mind ticking bleakly over all these new facts. He was eight years old, his father was dead, his brother was crippled, and he was so cold.

He was huddled under the blankets, thinking about it all, when his brother limped in and carefully heaped his own blankets over Nick’s bed. Nick stared silently up at Alan’s face, pale and tired, marked with new lines of pain. His glasses were too big for him and kept tilting off. Alan had smiled at him determinedly and crawled in under the covers, sliding his arm around Nick. Alan had been bigger than Nick back then, big enough so that Nick felt a little shielded from a world that had turned unfriendly, and Alan’s body and the new blankets made him start to feel warm.

Alan had reached out and smoothed Nick’s rumpled hair. “You’re mine,” he said, in a trembling young voice that already had a ring of Dad’s about it. “And I’m going to take care of you.”

It was a memory of warmth, after all.

Liannan leaned back, her lips parted. Her eyes were shining like ice under moonlight. “Thank you,” she said.

Then she put her winter-cold mouth to his ear and whispered, “No need to go looking for them. They’ll be in London in nine days. Didn’t you guess? The whole Circle is coming for you.”

Nick came home afterward feeling like a gutted fish, limp and neatly filleted. His mouth felt bruised from the cold, and he did not want to tell Alan what he had learned.

Alan took one look at him and shut his eyes.

“Missing school again,” he said, putting aside his book. “How am I supposed to bring you up right if you won’t cooperate?”

“Dunno,” Nick said, and stretched himself out on the couch with his head near Alan’s good leg. Alan looked worriedly down at his face and torn clothes.

“So you’ve obviously had a fight — with some of the hyenas that have been menacing the streets of London. And you got roughed up.”

“You should see the hyenas,” Nick said, and shut his eyes.

There were sounds upstairs. Mum must be feeling particularly lively today; Nick hoped this would not be one of the times she started to scream and would not stop.

“Er,” Alan said, and Nick heard the note of unease in his voice. “Before I bring you antiseptic—”

“And a sandwich.”

“There’s something you should know.”

Before Alan could tell him what he should know, Nick knew. There were footsteps coming down the stairs, and the door to the sitting room swung open to reveal Mae, with Jamie peeping nervously over her shoulder.

Nick rose in one movement, barely checking a snarl. He hated to be caught at a disadvantage at any time, let alone at a time when two people, who had caused him enough trouble already, decided to invade his home.

“They arrived about half an hour ago,” Alan explained. “Jamie has to be there for the kill. It does make sense….”

Nick did not think having strangers in his home made sense at all, and he was about to say so when Mae stepped forward, lifting her velvety brown eyes to his face.

“What happened to you?” she asked.

“Since you ask,” Nick snapped, “I was gathering some information. The Obsidian Circle is coming for us.”

Alan looked troubled. The Obsidian Circle had been in Exeter, had been hunting them, and had come close enough to send ravens and snakes.

Part of the reasons that magicians’ summoning circles were so powerful was that every group of magicians had a summoning circle built of huge, powerful stones. Every circle they made was a reflection of that one, and if the whole Obsidian Circle was really coming to London, they would have to bring their chunks of obsidian with them. Nick couldn’t imagine how any charm of Mum’s could have enough power to justify risking the circle the magicians were named after.

The Obsidian Circle was more committed to hunting them than he had dreamed.

“They’re coming in full force,” Nick continued. “They’re hunting us. How are we supposed to hunt them?”

Alan was as pale as he’d been when the messenger came, but he looked calm, and when he answered his voice was thoughtful.

“If Black Arthur is hunting us, his magicians should be easy to find.”

“And what’s to stop him getting to Mum while we go after his people?”

Nick would have sacrificed Mum to save Alan, every time. That wasn’t what was bothering him.

This was…all wrong. Less than a fortnight ago, Alan had said that no matter what he had to do, he would make Black Arthur pay, and now it looked as though he wanted to play right into Black Arthur’s hands. He should have suggested sending Mum away. He should be telling Nick his plans. He should stop hiding things from Nick!

“I have a plan,” said Alan, and did not say what it was.

Nick did not ask. He started to and then stopped, as it occurred to him that his brother might actually lie.

It had always been a comfort to him that Alan could lie so well. Nick could not do it; the world was complicated enough without making up another world of words that weren’t even true. He had always assumed that Alan never lied to him, and now the idea that Alan might lie, might already be lying, was like being asked to read in school. He felt panicked, not knowing what to say. He had a picture of words stacked up around him, caging him in, and not one of them could he trust.