Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

Jeff and his father started putting things back into the drawers and boxes they had come from, much to the relief of Meg. They cleared away the mess and James wiped the table and began laying out cutlery for lunch.

James looked at his mother and she turned to us. "Will you stay for some lunch after all?" she offered.

It was rather unfair to change our minds two minutes before it was served, so we made excuses and said we would go and sit in the sunshine while they had their meal. We walked around the back of the farm, past where the forge still smoked, and sat upwind on a low wall looking out across the fields.

"It could be anywhere," I said to her.

"Actually, I don't think it could."

She glanced sideways at me.

"I think the hammer was locked away to prevent the Seventh Court from hiding or damaging it, but there would be no point in keeping it safe if you couldn't get to it when it was needed, and no one knew when that might happen. If you think about it, everything has been left in place if you knew where to look."

"What about the anvil? That was pretty well hidden."

"But you knew where it was because of the vision. And I knew where to find you because Kareesh sent me her message."

"So you still think Kareesh is behind all this."

"Yes. She is the link that ties it all together. I still don't know why she didn't just tell us what to do, but I'm sure she has her reasons."

"Well, there's nothing in the vision to tell us where the key might be. There's nothing small enough to fit. And I've found all the pieces now, even if they're not quite right in my head. I know where to find the silhouette of the cat. We've found the anvil in the hall of water and we've been to Australia House. The vaulted roof is the crypt of the church where the Way started and the green twig is the mistletoe on Meg Highsmith's kitchen wall. The whirling leaves were on the way where we stopped in the copse, and the closing door was in the tunnels under Covent Garden. The only missing piece was the wrecked bedroom, striped in sunlight, and I woke to that this morning."

She shuffled along the wall slightly so she was next to me and she could slip her arm through mine. "It was a bit wrecked, wasn't it?" she reminded me.

"Yes, it was." I clasped her hand into mine and we watched the changing light over the fields as the clouds rolled across the sky, comfortable in silence.

My mind drifted with the clouds, sifting through the memories of the last few days. It amazed me how quickly I had adjusted to all of the changes in my life, but with Blackbird leaning against my side I had the inescapable feeling that it would be OK. We would find a way.

"If you are right," I said to her, "then Kareesh has given us all that we need. We have the anvil and the knives. We think we know where the hammer is. We have a smith who can work the metal and enough time to finish the job. We just need the key. James had the right of it when he said it might not literally be a key, but we're thinking about this in the wrong way. We're thinking of all the things that could potentially be keys when actually we only need to look at what we've been given."

"We haven't been given a key," she pointed out.

"We know it would have to be kept somewhere safe from the Seventh Court. We know the Seventh Court doesn't have any humans. If you didn't want the Seventh Court to have the key, but you did want the other courts to be able to access it, where would you put it?"

As I talked, I realised where the key was and how we would get it.

"You would hide it somewhere only a human would find it or give it to a human who was protected in some way?" she speculated.

"But the Feyre don't regard humanity as reliable. Humans don't have long enough memories and they don't live long enough. So what do you do?" I was leading her through my logic now, to see if it was flawed.

"They've already solved that problem, by embedding the knives in a legal ceremony that will survive the death of any one individual."

"So what do we end up with that we haven't already found a purpose for? What is the thing that stands out like a loose end with no purpose we have yet discovered."

She thought for a moment. "The horse shoes? The nails? The sixty-first nail! That's it!" She jumped down from the wall. "The sixty-first nail is different from all the rest. It's made from the same metal as the Dead Knife. It's just the right size and the right shape."

"And it's kept with sixty iron nails and six huge iron horseshoes, one for each court, to ward off unwanted hands." I smiled down at her.

She reached up around my neck and pulled me down for a breathless kiss, then danced away. "Come on! We've got to tell the Highsmiths."

I slipped down from the wall and followed after her. When I reached the kitchen she was explaining to the Highsmiths that we knew who had the key.

"When will you be able to get hold of it?" asked Jeff, sipping from a steaming mug of tea.

"As soon as we can get in touch with the person who has care of it," she told him. "Except we don't have her number and today is Saturday. The Royal Courts of Justice will be closed." She looked crestfallen at me.

"Why don't you call her mobile?" suggested James, over a mouthful of pasta.

"We don't have her mobile number," Blackbird explained. "I don't even know if she has a mobile."

"Everyone has a mobile," he told us, "even Dad." This got a wry grin from Jeff.

"Directory enquiries might have the number, but all I have is her name," Blackbird shrugged. "It's not enough to get a number."

We were stumped again. Then I had an idea.

"Mrs Highsmith. I wonder if I might borrow your mirror for a few moments?" I indicated the big mirror over the kitchen sideboard.

"Help yourself."

I went to the mirror, glancing back at Blackbird. I think she knew what I meant to do, but I recognised the expression of challenge I had seen in the meeting with Claire when I had used the mirror in the Remembrancer's office. I stepped over to the mirror behind Lisa and James, who turned their chairs to watch me.

"I thought you were going to look in it," Meg Highsmith said.

"I am," I told her.

I felt for the mirror, dipping below its surface to the grey realm beneath. It was like the other one, still and calm.

I reached within to the well of darkness inside and formed a connection. The mirror turned milky white and the light in the room dimmed. I remembered Claire's face, her neat hair and clipped manner.

"Claire?"

The mirror stayed tense but inert. Then a faint sound emerged, like a stereo that's been left on with nothing playing.

"Claire?" My own voice sounded hollow to me, reverberating in the stillness.

The sound continued. I could feel the connection there, but there was nothing. It was like an empty line.

"Maybe she really doesn't have a mobile phone?" Blackbird murmured into the hollow silence.

I reached over and pressed my palm against the glass. The mirror around my hand took on a pale light spreading outward until the whole mirror pulsed slowly with milky luminescence. Condensation formed on the surface as I pulled at the depths. The light in the room dimmed, the fridge juddered to a stuttering halt and the room temperature dropped about four degrees.

"Claire? Are you there?"

There was hissing, followed by a whine that rose in pitch as if something somewhere were being wound tightly. It twanged like tiny electrical threads were snapping. There was a ticking starting slowly and getting faster and faster until it was a constant buzz and then, suddenly, a ringing tone. The ringing tone was a positive sign, but there was something wrong, I could feel it in the mirror. It felt as if I was over-extended, unbalanced. Cold drops of sweat coalesced on my forehead while the phone rang and rang.