Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

A noise came from beyond the door to the corridor outside, like a pendulum tick, slowly increasing in volume. It had a sharp metallic quality and a frequency that matched a steady walking pace. It slowed as it approached my door and Blackbird stood, facing the door, body set. The door opened slowly and a tall gentleman wearing a dark grey jacket over a black T-shirt and charcoal trousers stood in the doorway.

His eyes swept the room before he entered, taking in each detail, reminding me of the way the quiet policeman had assessed the room, except he didn't look much like a policeman. He looked like a bouncer.

The tall man entered, stepping sideways, leaving the door wide and placing the wall behind him. His manner was professional and he carried an expression of faint amusement, as if he were aware of a private joke he was unable to share. His hair was short and his ears stuck out slightly. In his hand was a dark wooden stave, about as tall as his shoulder. The top was ornamented with a decorative silver cap and the base was shod with steel. It slid downwards through his hand, tapping sharply as the tip struck the tiles beside his feet. It was an easy movement showing long familiarity.

"You are Niall Petersen and Blackbird of the Fey'ree." It wasn't a question. "I am Warder Garvin. I bring you the felicitations of the Lords and Ladies of the Seven Courts and request that you stand before them before sunset today."

"A request?" I asked him.

"It's a formality," Blackbird said. Her stance said that she knew this fellow. "They want to see us today."

"Will you come?"

I looked at Blackbird.

"Where?" she asked.

"There's an address in Soho Square on this slip of paper."

He untucked a scrap of paper from his pocket and leaned forward to place it on the bed. "Be there an hour after noon. We'll take you the rest of the way."

"We?" I asked.

"I brought reinforcements, in case there was trouble. Tate?" He smiled, tipping his head towards the door without taking his eyes from us.

The doorway darkened and in it stood a huge bear of a man. The way he filled the doorway reminded me of how Gramawl had filled the tunnel below Covent Garden. He had the same bulk, as if he had to lean down to pass through the limited opening. His long hair was gathered back in a clasp and he had a grizzled beard. Grey eyes regarded us from beneath bushy eyebrows. He also wore the dark uniform.

"Trouble?" he asked. His voice was resonant and low, rich like chocolate and not in the least bit perturbed. If there was trouble, he wasn't concerned.

Garvin glanced over at us and then shook his head. "No. We'll see you in Soho Square."

"What if we're held up?" I asked.

"Don't be late. Or we'll have to come and fetch you."

He turned, the bulk of Tate retreating before him, and they walked away back down the corridor, the rhythmic tap of the staff on the tiles sounding their retreat.

"Who were they?" I asked Blackbird.

"We're being summoned to stand before the Council of Seven Courts, the full council of the lords and ladies who rule all the Courts of the Feyre."

"Seven courts? I thought you said the Seventh Court wasn't part of that anymore."

"Their place is held open for them should they ever decide to return. The Council is where the rulers of the courts meet together to discuss matters affecting them all."

"So why are we being summoned?"

"I don't know. The Council usually acts to defend the independence and authority of each individual court. They resolve disputes between courts."

"So why do they want to see either of us?"

"I don't know, but you can't refuse. You have to go."

"What will happen if we don't?"

"They would send those two to bring us before the court and, believe me, it would be far better to go willingly. Or we could be ruled in contempt, just like a human court except the punishments are more visceral."

"There are only two of them," I pointed out.

"The Warders of the Seven Courts are a cross between court officials, bodyguards and court enforcers. They carry out the will of the courts, in blood if necessary. And there are six of them, one for each court."

"So they'll try to bring us before the court. We can stand up for ourselves, I think we've proved that much at least."

"The Untainted are bad enough to deal with but the Warders are different. If the Seven Courts decree an execution then these are the people who carry it out. They're specially trained to go up against the worst of Feyre society. They are the ultimate sanction of the courts. They work as a team and they make Raffmir and Solandre look like amateurs."

"They didn't look so bad."

"Delivering messages is one of their more pleasant duties. They probably regard it as a day off."

"Do you think we should go with them, then? Couldn't we run away, go somewhere remote?"

"You may be able to run, but I can't."

"Why not?"

"Niall, I am bound to the courts. When I am summoned I must go. I receive the court's protection, but I am also bound by its decisions. I don't have a choice. They'll always find me and, anyway, it's not really an option in my condition."

"You're definitely pregnant then?"

"You'll be a father again."

"Oh wow. That's incredible, really. I'm delighted." I drew her to me, intending to kiss her, but she resisted.

"I've never done this before. I confess I'm a little scared."

"I'll stay with you. It'll be OK. We can go to ante-natal classes together. I did it with Katherine."

"I can't go to ante-natal classes, Niall." She looked troubled.

"Why not? It's easy. It's just exercises and stuff. You'll be good at it."

"You forget, the baby is only partly human. Fey mothers carry their children for almost a year, not nine months. Don't you think people are going to be suspicious if it takes that long? It might not even come out looking human. I can't have a scan or let anyone see it, can I? I have to keep it secret."

"Don't the Feyre have midwives or something? Surely if they're so keen to have children they have something?"

"Kareesh will look after me when the time comes, but in the meantime I need somewhere quiet, somewhere safe for the baby to grow." She was looking more and more concerned.

"It'll be OK," I reassured her, "After all we've been through, we can deal with this. I'll think of something."

"There's more. I'm going to lose my power."

"What do you mean?"

"I'm going to lose my ability to use magic. It's already fading. Pregnant Fey can't use magic. It would be dangerous for the baby and my body won't let me. It'll close down for the duration. That's how I know I'm pregnant. What I did in the tunnels, I couldn't do any more. It's the way it should be, but…"

"But what?"

"Niall, I feel so helpless."

I opened my arms and she leaned forward and rested her head on my chest while I hugged her to me. She was trembling so I simply held her until the trembling eased.

After a while she lifted herself up and looked into my eyes.

"Tell me that it will be OK?"

"It'll be fine," I told her. "I promise." She rested her head back on my chest and we lay there for some time while the hospital murmured around us.

"I need help," I told her, after a while.

"What kind of help?" she asked.

"I need Claire, today, now. Can you bring her to me?"

"Here? Yes. What for?"

"We need Claire to help us. I'll explain it to you both when she gets here. But hurry."

"She's going to want to know why, Niall."

"Tell her I want her to be our insurance policy."

Blackbird and I reached Soho Square shortly before one and found the early afternoon drinkers were already established in the pub on the corner. The garden in the centre of the square was arrayed with office workers eating lunch. We found the address easily, an anonymous entrance in a row of doors. We were ten minutes early.