Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

I had answered my own question. Of course we had places like that. We had them because we needed them. Blackbird watched me as I thought it all through and realisation dawned.

"You're telling me I can't go back. Even if there were a job and a life to go back to, I couldn't return to it. If I try to explain what happened, they will treat me as if I'm insane."

"I'm trying to explain that things have changed. It's not all bad news. You're old life died when you did and a new life began. Now you just have to accept that your old life has gone and move forward."

"But what about my daughter?"

"That depends. It depends on you and it depends on her. For now, the best thing you can do is stay away from her."

"For how long?"

"At worst? Until you die or she does. But maybe only a few years."

"Years?" I thought about all the things I would be missing in the time before I could see my daughter again. She would be a grown woman by then. Would she even remember who I was?

"You should stay away from her until she either comes into her own power or until the authorities forget about you and assume you've left the country, died or simply disappeared."

"But years?"

"If that's what it takes, then yes. Remember, if you survive, you have many more years of life ahead of you."

"But she may not have."

"How much of your life would you trade for a glimpse of hers?"

"You don't understand what it means to me, Blackbird."

"Don't I? I understand a lot more than you realise, but I don't let it blind me to the obvious."

"And what's that?"

"That if you love her then you want what's best for her."

"And that means staying away from her."

"You will only lead the danger to her. You need to keep away from her for now."

"For now. But I won't abandon her, Blackbird. I can't."

She gave me a long look. I thought for a moment she was waiting for me to add something, but that wasn't it. It was as if she was trying to decide something about me, perhaps whether I meant it or not. I knew I meant it.

"If you are going to stay free, you're going to have to learn to use your gifts. You will need them to conceal yourself from the police and from others hunting you. The Untainted may have failed to kill you once, but they will not give up. They will come for you again and when they do, you had better be ready."

I took a deep breath. The image on the screen came back to me. How long before they had a proper photograph? Hours, I was guessing. I needed to concentrate on the thing in front of me and deal with it one step at a time.

"What do I need to do?"

"Come with me."

She walked away, weaving easily through the traffic flowing around Australia House, confident I would follow her. I watched her go for a moment and then followed. Where else could I go?

She walked across the road to the area in front of the pale stone church where someone had been sweeping the fallen leaves into neat piles. There was a bronze statue of Benjamin Disraeli on a stone plinth in front of the church. The steps around its base were drying in the thin sunshine.

"Here," she said, "this will do."

She sat down and indicated I should sit beside her. I joined her, finding the stone cold and still slightly damp.

"Now," she told me. "We need to find you a new face."

"Out here?" We were in the middle of the open area where anyone could see. Cars and buses rumbled by around us.

"Don't worry. No one will notice us."

"It's a little exposed," I pointed out.

"If anyone sees us they will think we are having a conversation or eating an early lunch, maybe. They will not look twice."

"How do you know?"

"What do you mean, how do I know?"

"How do you know what they are seeing or not seeing? Maybe they can see us perfectly well. How can you tell?"

"I can feel it. So can you, if you try."

Now she mentioned it, there was something. An elastic thickening of the air spread around us. I wafted my hand through it. I expected somehow it might pull and tear, but it stretched and reformed around my hand.

"Can you feel it now?"

"Are you doing that?"

"I am bending appearances, making us unremarkable so we can experiment. Now, I want you to change the way you look, like you did in the airport. Become the young man in the suit again."

"And no one will see?"

"People may see, but no one will notice. Only me."

I glanced hesitantly around and tried to assure myself we were not being watched. Then I closed my eyes and focused on the image of the young man I had once been. I formed the image in my mind and made it real.

The darkness inside awoke and a prickle of power crawled across my skin. I opened my eyes and looked at my hand. It shivered back and forth between younger and older as I watched. My appearance shifted uncertainly and I knew I had failed.

"This is what happened before. It was better when the police were searching for me."

"You anchored your glamour to your fear. As soon as you stopped being afraid, it unravelled."

"But I nearly have it." I watched my hand stabilise and forced it to stay young and smooth.

"It's taking all your concentration. Could you read a book like that? Or play a guitar?"

"I can't play a guitar when I'm not holding it."

"And you'll never learn if you have to focus your entire being just to maintain your glamour. Let it go and we'll try again."

My hand shifted back to its familiar form.

"Take a deep breath and let it out slowly. You will need a clear idea of how you wish to appear."

"The same as before?"

"Perhaps a wedding suit is not the most useful look unless you plan to spend the rest of your days trying to blend in at weddings? Besides, it's really too close to your own image. You might still be recognised. You need something different, a look that no one will associate directly with you."

"Should it be like someone I know?"

"Only if you're sure you will never meet them or anyone who would normally recognise them; unless you are pretending to be them, of course. But pretending to be someone else can get very complicated. Better to choose the features of people you know and interweave them. Take the hair from this person, eyes from that, a mouth and nose from another, the posture and movement from the next, you see? It's easier to choose things you like but it can be just as effective to choose things you hate. The important thing is that it is clear and memorable."

I rifled through my memories of friends and acquaintances, searching for aspects of people I liked. It was harder than it appeared and it was some minutes before I had built a mental image I thought I could work with.

"It doesn't have to be totally exhaustive. People will fill in the details for themselves if you give them enough clues. They will see what they expect to see."

"OK. I'm ready to try." I took a deep breath and closed my eyes.

"Don't close your eyes."

"You said it made it easier."

"Yes, but if you have to close your eyes every time you use magic, you are going to end up walking into a lamppost."

I acknowledged her point with a smile.

"Or get stabbed," she added.

The smile faded. "Do all you people go around stabbing each other?"

"It can be quicker, cleaner and faster than using power," she pointed out. "If it is a test of strength then you would use power and prove yourself. But if it is life or death, choose life by whatever means."

"Does using 'whatever means' include what I did to Fenlock?"

She hesitated, her lips forming a thin line. The pause was a long one. Then she nodded.

"I apologise," she said.

"For what?"

"For what I said about what you did to Fenlock. You did the right thing. You survived, he didn't."

"You said it was obscene," I reminded her.