Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

There was a click and a voice echoed around the room. "Hello? Who is this?"

Behind me, I heard James whispering, "Neat."

"Claire? Is that Claire?"

"Yes. This is Claire? Who is this?"

"Claire, it's Niall. We met yesterday. I need to speak to you."

"I don't know," Claire said, her echoing voice answering a faint voice in the background. "I thought it was switched off."

There was a pause. "Claire?" Holding the line open was telling on me. I could feel the chill creeping into my hand, numbing my fingers.

"I can't," I heard her say. "It won't. Hang on, let me past and I'll take it outside."

"Claire, can you hear me?" What was she doing?

There was a sound of movement, doors opening and overheard fragments of conversation. I held onto the line, not sure if I would have the strength to reach for her again if the connection failed.

"Hello?"

"Claire. Is that you?"

"This is Claire. Who is this?"

"It's Niall, from yesterday. We met in your office, remember?"

"Oh, Christ. Niall, what are you doing? How are you doing this?"

"I needed to speak with you urgently."

"Niall. I'm at the hospital. Jerry is here in a private ward.

How did you call me? The phone was switched off because of the hospital and now it won't respond."

That explained why it was so hard. "Can you switch it on?"

"I can't do anything with it. What have you done to it?"

"I'll call back in a moment. Switch it on, can you?"

"It won't do anything."

"Give it a sec. I'll call you back." I released my hold on the mirror and took my hand away. It shivered as I released it, leaving my handprint outlined with condensation. We watched cold droplets of water run down the glass and coalesce on the edge of the frame. I waited for half a minute and then put my hand back on the mirror. "Claire?"

This time it rang immediately. Compared to the previous time the connection was effortless.

"Hello?"

"It's Niall."

"Yes. How did you do that?"

"It's… difficult to explain. Can you talk?"

"Hang on. Let me close the door. I'm in the rest room and you're not supposed to have mobiles on, even in here."

There was a short pause. "Go ahead."

"Is the Remembrancer OK?"

"He's in some sort of coma. They found him after you'd gone, down near the river. He was barely conscious and he hasn't come round since. His wife and daughter are here with him."

"Do they expect him to recover?"

"They don't know what's wrong with him. They say he muttered something about shadows coming to life when they put him in the ambulance but that was probably just delirium. He's had tests and things and as far as they can tell it's something to do with his heart, but they can't pin it down."

"What are they treating him with?"

"They don't want to give him anything until they know what they're dealing with. He appeared better after they'd got him to hospital, but then he got worse again overnight. It's like he's just wasting away."

I glanced at Blackbird, but she just shrugged.

"Listen, Claire, the reason I called you is that we need to get access to the nails for the ceremony? Can you get them for us?"

"I could, but I don't want to leave Jerry."

"You may have to if we're going to prevent a lot worse happening. Can you get to the nails?"

"If need be. But I don't like leaving him."

"Don't worry, we'll come to you. Which hospital is it?" If Blackbird could fix my heart, maybe she could do the same for the Remembrancer.

Claire gave me the name of a private hospital that I had last heard reported on the news when one of the royals was ill.

"We'll come to you," I repeated. "Maybe we can help."

"There's security. They're treating it as suspicious, though suspicion of what, I'm not sure."

"What kind of security?"

"The police are guarding all the entrances. I think it's mainly to keep the press out."

"OK, look, I'm not sure how long it will take us to reach you, but wait for us there."

"I'm not going anywhere. And Niall?"

"Yes."

"Next time, just leave me a message, OK?"

The connection closed.

I took my hand from the mirror, the outline of it still clear in the misty smudge of condensation.

James said, "Well, that beats directory enquiries."

There was a grumble of laughter from his father and the tension in the room eased a little.

I turned to Blackbird. "Do you think you could help the Remembrancer?"

"That depends on what happened to him."

"Without him it's going to be difficult for the ceremony to go ahead," I pointed out.

"That may be true, but it doesn't change anything. He may be dying naturally."

"You heard what Claire said: shadows that come to life?"

"I heard her. But if they've terrified him into heart failure then the damage may already be done."

"You helped me," I pointed out.

"That was different, Niall. I was there when it happened." There was an edge of impatience to her voice. "Maybe when we get there I'll take a look but I can't promise anything. In the meantime we need to finish the knife." She turned to the Highsmiths, seated around the table.

"What do you want us to do?" Jeff Highsmith spoke for them.

"We need you to complete the new Quick Knife. We'll have the key by tomorrow, one way or another. I think we can get the hammer. We need a smith."

"You'll have one," Ben Highsmith volunteered.

"Dad, it's a long way. It should be me," said Jeff.

"No, son. You stay here with your family and keep them safe. This could turn nasty, and if the worst comes to the worst then I'm at peace with it. I had all those years with your mum. I won't let you throw away the years you have to come."

Meg reached over and grasped Ben's hand.

"But Dad!" Jeff suddenly sounded like his son, James.

"How dangerous is it?" Meg Highsmith's voice cut across them both.

Blackbird answered. "If we manage to do it before anyone realises what we're doing, then the danger is minimal. He might slip and fall into the Fleet, which wouldn't be too pleasant, but that's about the limit."

"And if they realise?"

"Then there are those who will try and prevent the re-forging of the knife. They have already tried to kill Niall and you heard the state of the other person they found. I won't lie to you; I doubt we can win if it comes to a fight. Our best hope is getting the knife re-forged before anyone notices."

He shrugged his shoulders in a very matter of fact way. "I may be old, but I've been a smith all my life and I'm not weak. Anyone who tries to do me a mischief will get cold iron up his arse."

Meg forced a smile and Jeff squeezed his father's shoulder, though they must both have known it was bravado. Lisa pressed herself under her grandfather's arm, less willing to accept the bluster at face value.

"It may take us a little while to get the nail, but we should be able to meet you at midday tomorrow outside the Royal Courts of Justice. Bring the new knife and any tools you think you might need to finish it. The roads shouldn't be busy. It is Sunday, after all," Blackbird said.

"Aye. I'll be there."

She smiled and thanked him.

"It's the nature of the deal," he told us. "Besides, how many men can say they've worked metal for the Courts of the Feyre in their lives? Not many, I bet."

"Not many," she agreed.

"We need to get moving if we're going to be any help at the hospital." Blackbird was gathering our things together. "We have a long walk ahead of us, so we'd better get going."

"Can we give you a lift somewhere?" Jeff offered.

"Actually, I don't think we need one," I told him. "Ben, would you mind keeping the old Quick Knife here? It's broken anyway and it's probably more use to you than it is to us."