Mike Shevdon - Sixty-One Nails

"Get me a chair, would you? She'll be better if she's upright."

I turned back into the office and found an upturned chair which I placed against the wall. Blackbird dragged Claire inside and pushed the door closed with her feet. Between us we manhandled Claire into the chair.

I went to retrieve her handbag from the floor outside where it had fallen before anyone noticed what was going on, though I could feel Blackbird's influence around us, turning curious eyes away.

When I re-entered, Claire was sat forward with her face in her hands.

"Never," she said, "never do that again."

Blackbird stood out of arms reach. "You left me no choice. If you had broken into the room when Niall was calling gallowfyre then you would be dead."

"I should be dead." She looked up at me. "Gallowfyre. That's in the journals. Only the Seventh Court have gallowfyre, isn't that right?"

"Apparently," I admitted.

"I don't understand. If you're from the Seventh Court, why are you here?"

"He's not from the Seventh Court, though how that can happen, neither of us knows right now."

"So what does that make you?" she asked me.

"I wish I knew, Claire."

"Do you have the nail?"

"Not yet."

"I don't suppose there's anything I can do to prevent you taking it, though, is there? You have my key already."

"You need us to have the nail, Claire," said Blackbird. "I know you have doubts but we are your only hope."

"Hope of what?" she asked.

"Of preserving the world you live in. Of keeping the Seventh Court from entering your world whenever they wish and using it as they will."

"I suppose I believe you."

"You know I can't lie."

"I know you don't always tell the truth either. Very well, take it. Use it."

"Thank you."

I took the brass key and, despite being sure that no trace of the darkspore could remain, I picked my way carefully to the cupboard with the safe in it. The door was ajar and I kicked it open with my foot. Filling the bottom of the cupboard was an old safe with enamelled green paint and brass handles. The key fitted easily and turned with oiled precision. The handle turned down and I felt the solid clunk as the bolts retracted into the door. It swung open, revealing shelves of papers together with the soft black leather pouch containing the nails. I collected the bundle and closed the safe, locking it again to remove the key. The iron in the pouch weighed heavy in my hand, its jarring vibration making my nerves jangle.

I returned the key to her and handed her the nails. "It would be easier if you removed it."

"Still reluctant to touch the others?"

"I could tip them all out onto the floor and pick out the one I want, but that would be rude."

She considered this for a moment and then nodded, unrolling the case on her lap.

"If you wanted it badly enough, you could have taken it any time." She held up the sixty-first nail for me to take.

As I touched it, the metal fell into blackness.

Claire snatched her hand away. "Gracious, that's cold." She rubbed her hand. "Oh, it's like the knife, isn't it?" she said, catching on.

"Something else for your journal," said Blackbird. "If what we are intending works out, we will bring the new Quick Knife to you later so it can be incorporated into the ceremony on Tuesday. Will you be here?"

"Yes. I have to get all this cleared up and there are all the preparations for the ceremony. There's still a lot to do. I'm going to be here until midnight at this rate."

"Don't take unnecessary risks. If you can, have someone stay close to you. If we're not back by nightfall, go to the Highsmiths in Shropshire. Take the Remembrancer and his family with you," Blackbird suggested.

"Will you meet me there?"

"No, but they have a house full of iron. You may be safe there for a while."

"A while?"

"It depends what happens when the barrier comes down. I think they will come here first. This is where it's weakest."

"What will they do?"

"Whatever it is, they've waited eight hundred years to do it, so I don't think it will be pretty."

"Should I warn someone? The authorities? The army?"

"No one is going to believe you, even if you tell them. And if they did, what are they going to do? Shoot people who look a bit strange? Evacuate London?"

"Bring the knife, I'll get Jerry to the Courts on Tuesday."

"That would be best," Blackbird agreed.

I slipped the nail into my trouser pocket, making sure it wouldn't fall out, and then Claire escorted us down to the security gate, her weak smile as we parted a testament to her uncertainty.

Out on the Strand, it had clouded over and fat drops of rain were starting to patter onto the pavement. It was just as well that we weren't there long. After only a few moments a huge white van pulled up alongside the pavement and the window wound down to reveal Ben.

"Jump in," he shouted over to us. "I'll get a ticket if I stop here." The police standing guard at the gates for the Royal Courts of Justice were already eyeing him warily.

We scrambled over and jumped up onto the bench seat of the van. Ben moved off and there was a brief fumbling followed by a short argument as I made Blackbird wear the only seatbelt. The other one was wedged under the seat somewhere.

"I've been driving round for about a quarter of an hour, waiting for you to show. We're not going far," Ben told us. "I just need to find somewhere to park this thing. It won't go into a multi-storey. It's too tall."

"What have you got in here?" I asked him.

"It's almost empty, but Jeff wanted the car and, anyway, this is a diesel." He said this as if it explained everything.

We drove down Fleet Street and turned down towards the river, making another right to circle down around the Embankment. Ben eventually found a metered parking spot around by Temple tube station. He fished into his overalls for change.

"How long do you think we'll be?" he asked us.

"That depends how long you need to finish the knife," Blackbird answered.

"If we get four hours, that should be enough shouldn't it? It costs the earth to park round here."

"It is a bit more expensive than Shropshire," I agreed.

He jogged through the raindrops and fed coins into the parking meter, returning with a ticket, which he peeled and stuck to the inside of the window. Then he opened the back of the van. He took out a blue metal toolbox, rusted in places where the paint had peeled away, and a short three-section ladder.

"I won't be easy to get that down through the passages," I told him.

"It's small enough to get into most places," he reassured me. "And we can use it to get to the keyhole. I can't scramble around like you young things. My legs aren't what they used to be."

I nodded, accepting his wisdom. It had been a good thought.

I carried the ladder for him and we walked quickly back up through the Inns of Court to get to the door leading down to the river. Blackbird knew where she was going, so she took the lead and I followed on after, putting Ben in the middle where we could keep an eye on him. Along the way I felt the tingle of Blackbird's magic gently encompass us, lest the strange procession of a young woman with a torch, an old man with a toolbox and another man with a ladder, walking in line through Temple on a Sunday, attract unwanted attention. I shook my head at the strange world I now inhabited.

We reached the doorway and Blackbird pushed it open, listening in the opening for any disturbance below. There was nothing to hear above the faint stir as the water fell over the weir below us. She produced the torch she had bought earlier and clicked it on. Ben found a larger torch in his toolbox. Mine was still at the bottom of the river, but I could make light if I had to. Anyway, it would take both hands to carry the ladder.