Banished Page 3

  Up until a year ago I was a normal sixteen-year-old girl, doing average everyday things, going to a normal school, enjoying art and dreaming about becoming a prop designer in Hollywood. I didn’t have to know Latin or Greek or Arabic. Yet now, here I am, a Blackhart claimed and trained, and I’m expected to be able to know stuff no sane person in modern times should know. Aunt Letitia (She Who Must Be Obeyed, according to, well, all my cousins) has, however, given me some leeway as I was brought up as a norm. So instead of expecting the forms turned around within twenty-four hours of completing a case, I have forty-eight. Thanks, Aunt Letty, you’re my hero.

  I’ve done the first set of papers by lunchtime and decide to check my emails and go for a swim. It is a gloriously sunny day and I stretch out on a lounger next to the outside pool for a few minutes, letting the sun warm me, shaking off the chill from the dark library.

  I swim a few laps and clamber back out again, feeling better for the exercise and getting rid of some of the stiffness from yesterday’s fight. I choose not to notice the bruises along my side: a side-effect from my brush with the violent banshee. I move a bit slower than I’d like, but a few days of rest and I should be up to running the obstacle course Jamie’s set up behind the house.

  The sense of isolation is distracting. It doesn’t bother me, not really, but I’m a bit put out by my cousins not even bothering to ring or text me to congratulate me on the successful completion of my first solo mission. It’s maybe not a big thing for them, but for me it feels as if I’ve graduated, as if I’ve got my wings. And where are they? I check my phone. No text messages, no notes, no phone calls. I sigh and mutter to myself. Woe is me.

  I move my sword to the side, so it can rest next to my lounger, and I pull my laptop towards me. My emails are very few. There is one from Karina in Germany and she’s sent photos of her new boyfriend – he’s not as hot as she seems to think he is – and tells me they’re planning to backpack around Greece for the summer holidays. She sends me a photo of her brother Udo, whom I’ve had a crush on since I was seven. He’s looking at the camera in an angry way and his scowl makes him look badass. He’s dark haired, like Karina, and has the same dark melty eyes as his sister. I kiss my laptop screen and send her an email back. I tell her about school, about a random boy I like, about how different things are now that Nan’s gone. I keep it light and it’s all lies and I feel so bad about it. Telling Karina about any of the real Blackhart stuff isn’t something I can even consider. Apart from it being dangerous to her, she’d think I’ve gone nuts, believing in faeries and ogres. She’s the most sober and logical person I know and would never understand about monsters lurking in the darkness trying to eat your face off.

  As I press ‘send’ on my email filled with lies and deceit, my email pings again. It’s from my cousin, Megan.

  The subject line says: Find it, and it’s yours.

  And that’s it. No further message.

  I grin. It’s a challenge and one Megan sets for us occasionally, sending us on various quests around the estate. The victor always comes away with either a new techy gadget she’s designed or, as the younger lot call it: Meganized. Jamie got his flashy new Ducati Monster that way. My cousin Marc still sulks about that, saying that Jamie cheated and that the bike was meant for him, but Megan sets the rules: finders keepers, losers weepers.

  I check and notice that I’m the only recipient. This challenge is for me only.

  Okay. I’m up for a bit of questing.

  I pull a pair of surf shorts and a T-shirt on over my bathing suit and start my hunt. An hour of wandering around the house finding little notes hidden in obvious and not-so-obvious places, and I’m directed to the basement garage.

  A cherry-red Mini Cooper sits proudly in the middle of a strategically placed spotlight, keeping the rest of the garage in darkness. An envelope’s trapped beneath the windscreen wiper with my full name written on it. Katherine Gabrielle Blackhart. It’s in Megan’s handwriting.

  It holds two pieces of paper. The first is a note that simply reads:

  Congratulations on your success! We are very proud of you. Welcome to the madness. Now, just keep staying alive!

  Lots of love,

  Team Blackhart – sorry, Marc made me write that,

  Megan xx

  The second note is the ownership papers of the Mini. It’s in my name.

  I lay my hand on the bonnet and grin. I can’t believe it. I’ve seen Megan tinkering with the car for months now, restoring it, finding bits and pieces here and there and taking the already cool car and making it into a souped-up red monster that growls and purrs when the engine turns over.

  And she’s given it to me. It feels amazing.

  My phone buzzes in my pocket and I take it out, knowing immediately that it’s Megan without even looking at the display.

  ‘Kit Blackhart!’ she’s yelling, sounding a bit hysterical. ‘You find your toy yet?’

  ‘I just did! Oh my God, Meg, I love her.’

  ‘Have you taken her out for a spin?’

  ‘No, not yet. I literally just found the note and I’m walking around her and she’s the most stunning thing I’ve ever seen.’

  ‘Good, I’m glad you like her. Her name is Lolita.’ I become aware of the fact that the voice is no longer in my ear, but next to me. I turn and find myself staring at all three of my nearest cousins, the twins Megan and Marc and their younger brother, Kyle. The door to the armoury’s swinging shut behind them on silent hinges and I realize that they have been lurking in there.

  Marc’s carrying a huge platter of cakes and Kyle looks embarrassed hanging on to a forest of colourful balloons that spell out: ‘Congratulations!!’

  ‘Did you seriously think we’d miss celebrating your first lone mission?’ Megan asks me as she walks into me and wraps me in a huge hug, lifting me off the ground and swinging me around. No mean feat for a girl the same height and weight as me. ‘I can’t believe it took you so long to check your emails! We’ve been down here for like a million years.’

  I can’t stop laughing at her exaggeration. Marc, Megan’s twin, holds open his arm and balances the tray of cakes to one side.

  ‘You kicked ass yesterday. Well done. We’re super proud of you.’ He pushes a kiss on my forehead and hugs me. I rest there a moment, loving how I fit in with this little trio.

  The youngest of the Blackharts at fifteen, Kyle is even taller than Marc and gangly. With his glasses and serious features he looks like a version of Harry Potter who just happens to know the best way to kill a Yaksha without breaking a sweat.

  ‘She’s not kidding,’ Kyle says. ‘We’ve been hiding down here since about twelve, waiting for you to stop working. You know Aunt Letitia doesn’t really mind if you’re late with the paperwork, right?’

  ‘Wrong,’ Marc says, shoving a plate in my direction and a glass of something fizzy. ‘Letitia gets extremely pissed off if we’re late with reports. It’s you she coddles, as you’re the baby.’

  Kyle scowls at his elder brother. ‘She doesn’t coddle.’

  ‘She does. She pinches your cheeks,’ Megan says with her mouth full of pastry.

  ‘That’s abuse,’ Kyle counters. ‘I’ve told her to stop.’

  ‘It will never stop, face it. Even when you’re forty, she’ll still pinch your cheeks.’

  He frowns at me in disapproval. ‘Not you too, Kit, really?’

  I grin. ‘I can do and say whatever I like. This is my party.’ And I push a handful of cake into his startled face.

  Chapter Five

  Redcaps: A type of goblin variant (berserker) renowned for their fearlessness (some say stupidity) in battle. Both Seelie and Unseelie Courts have bands of redcaps in their armies and use them as kill-squads.

  From The Blackhart Bestiarum

  ‘I cannot believe we made this much mess,’ Megan says to me as we scrape the last bit of cake into a black bag. ‘It was fun, though.’

  ‘Less moaning and more cleaning,’ Marc says
, throwing an empty bottle into the recycling bin. ‘Dad said he was going to call tonight with a new gig for us. He’ll expect us to travel immediately.’

  ‘Not you, though,’ Megan says to me as I straighten to look at them in surprise. Her face is serious as she tucks a loose blonde curl behind her ear. ‘He’ll make you stay behind.’

  I scowl while wiping my hands free of frosting on a serviette. Who knew that frosting and icing could splatter quite that much?

  ‘What? Why? I aced my gig. Why don’t I get to go along on the new adventure?’

  ‘You need rest.’ Kyle is perched on the barstool in the games room that we took over to celebrate further the success of my solo gig. ‘Look at you, you can barely stand.’

  I snort in derision. ‘I’m fine, nothing a good night’s sleep won’t cure.’

  All three of them turn to look at me, the same expression on their faces. It’s an expression I recognize because my nan excelled at wearing it.

  ‘What? You know it’s true. I just need a bit of rest and I’ll be as right as rain.’

  ‘A bit of rest? Kit Blackhart, the amount of magic you put out at Arlington School blazed for hours. We fielded calls from the Spook Squad who wanted to know what we were up to. Every creature in a hundred-mile radius knows what you did. You’re still probably a bit high on it all but, trust me, tomorrow you’re going to crash and it’s going to be bad. You have to rest.’

  I purse my lips in annoyance and turn away from Marc’s worried look. It bothered me that even the Spook Squad had registered my activities. They were a task force set up to investigate the weird goings-on that the average citizen reported to the average police officer. A large number of unusual and peculiar crimes were reported to the police but, as they don’t have the manpower or inclination to investigate, these things are usually passed on to the Spook Squad or, more formally, Her Majesty’s Department of Supernatural Defence and Intervention. For example those cases where a drunken homeless person babbles on about faeries dancing under a streetlight in Hackney? Sometimes it really is faeries dancing under a streetlight in Hackney. I’ve never met a Spook, but I’ve heard plenty about how they’ve managed to screw up investigations for my family with their blundering ways. We are the scalpels, Jamie was fond of saying. They are the fire-axes.

  But then the rest of Marc’s words hit home. Yes, I am tired, more tired than I’ve been in as long as I can remember – but it really doesn’t mean that I need to be coddled like some child. I’m seventeen, for heaven’s sake. Almost eighteen if I survive the next few months.

  The atmosphere is tense after that. Kyle, always the peacemaker, puts on some chill-out music and makes me dance with him but my smile is strained. They banter among themselves, like they always do, letting me wrap myself in my cloak of misery.

  I feel like the newbie and the party they threw on my behalf now seems a bit patronizing. I help for as long as I can bear it before I excuse myself and go upstairs to shower and go to bed.

  I’m propped up in bed, the Edwardian travel journal by one Helena Blackhart propped open on my knees. Helena had been friends with a high-ranking Fae noble, a blue-blooded Sidhe, who gave her permission to visit the Northern Wastes in Alba. The travel journal is partly about her intimate thoughts on the Sidhe noble she was travelling with and partly a study in anthropology and the mythology and legends relating to the Elder Gods that still suffused that area of the Otherwhere. I like Helena. She was also the only other Blackhart born with magic, like me. None of her journals I’ve managed to dig up in the library mentions how she learned to use her magic. It was just there, seemingly, all the time and she knew instinctively how to use it. It’s frustrating and intriguing. She hardly ever mentions her abilities in any of her journals. But the fact remains that she was a gutsy lady, unconventional and clearly hopelessly in love with the wrong guy. I’m not entirely sure about the legends she was collecting for the Blackhart library archive. They really do sound like the hallucinations of a mentally unstable person.

  The knock on my door startles me, but before I can say anything Megan’s bum edges its way into my room. She’s carrying a tray of Mrs Evans’ finest china. She brings it over and nudges one of the small (in my opinion useless) tables with her foot. When she’s satisfied it’s near enough to the bed, she puts the tray down.

  ‘I brought hot chocolate and cookies,’ she says. ‘I found some hidden in Mrs E’s pantry.’

  ‘I’m not in the mood, Megan,’ I say, not really caring how petulant I sound. I feel genuinely annoyed at them. ‘I just want to read and sleep.’

  ‘Rubbish. You’re feeling left out. I would too.’ She hands me a cup full of deliciously thick hot chocolate that has a hint of chilli in it. ‘Dad just rang and spoke to the boys. Apparently we’re being sent to Scotland. There are reports of cattle mutilations and he wants us to investigate. He’s not given us much, but he’s called in the wolves.’

  I can’t help it: the surprise registers on my face and Megan nods, looking sombre. ‘If he’s involving the Garrett wolf pack it means big trouble. We’ll still be up there in about a week, I’m sure. Plenty of time for you to rest and follow us up there.’

  ‘Did he say anything about me going with you guys immediately?’

  Megan’s dark grey eyes fill with sympathy. ‘He said you are to stay behind and to rest. He heard from Suola that she is extremely pleased with the way you handled the banshee.’ She did air quotes. ‘“A minimum of fuss and a positive result.” You really did us proud.’

  I grimace. ‘Yeah, but I still get to hang around at home, kicking my heels while you get to go gallivanting off.’

  ‘Listen, Kit.’ Megan stares at me and I feel uncomfortable suddenly, not used to her being this serious. ‘You are the first proper magic-user we’ve had in the family for years. You know how big that is for us. We can’t risk you getting hurt because we’ve not followed the bits of advice we’ve managed to scrounge from a batch of mouldy books.’ She sips some of her own hot chocolate. ‘Rest up until you no longer feel you want to eat all the food in the world, then come and join us. Three days minimum. It’s nothing.’ She snaps her fingers. ‘You know it will be over just like that.’

  Of course I know she’s right but it doesn’t mean I have to: a) agree, or b) like it.

  ‘Fine. Just don’t expect me to throw you guys a party if you come back before three days.’

  Megan gives a snort. ‘From the way the boys are packing you’d think we’re going on a month-long expedition into the Mountains of the Moon.’

  That makes me grin against my will. I know Kyle and Marc pack enough gear for any job to make it look as if they’re moving to another country. Compared to Megan, who packs a toolkit, undies, her iPod and a change of clothes, the boys really do overdo it. ‘It’ll be fun. You get to run with the Garrett wolf pack.’

  Megan’s eyes widen. ‘You know, I actually forgot about that. Do you think we’re too used to crazy being part of our lives? Faeries, werewolves.’ She gestures wildly.

  Against my will, my mood lifts as I’m drawn into her false dramatics. ‘The infernal, monsters from beyond the grave.’ I echo her flamboyant gesture but with less gusto. ‘Nothing can stand in our way.’

  ‘We are pretty badass.’

  I laugh and shake my head. Megan enjoys making a fuss about what the Blackharts do, but I’ve come to realize that it’s just a way for her to stay in control. If she can laugh at the monsters we send back to the Otherwhere, they become slightly less scary.

  ‘We are so badass, monsters run when they know we’re coming.’

  She grabs another cookie before I can finish the lot, but clearly has something more serious to say. ‘Listen, I spoke to Jamie yesterday. He’s got Kyle digitizing what we know about your magic, putting it into an app for you. Aunt Letitia is helping on her side too, looking through older records we have in storage at the lighthouse. So far we only have the stuff you’ve read about from Helena, but we’re hoping to find more.�
� She looks earnest. ‘You’re an asset we can’t afford to lose, Kit. Not when we’ve just found you. There are so few of us, you know? We have to look out for one another.’

  I nod, my smile fading. ‘I know, Meg, I know. I just can’t help but feel like I’m being coddled by you guys.’ I tug my fringe out of my eyes, frustrated. ‘I just want to help, show you guys I can do this.’

  ‘We know you can, sprocket.’ Marc’s voice interrupts, and then he’s through the half-open door. ‘We just want you to be fighting fit.’

  ‘Oy!’ Megan throws a cushion at his head. ‘Get out. Girly time here, no boys allowed!’

  Marc lets out a very unmanly squeal and shuts the door quickly before more missiles appear.

  My laughter breaks the tension and I lean forward, hugging her. ‘Tell Kyle thanks for even thinking of putting all the magic info stuff together. And thanks to you for being so sweet.’

  Megan extracts herself after a few seconds. ‘Okay, enough, enough. I have to go get some sleep. Have a good few days’ rest. See you later, Kit Solo Mission Blackhart. Sleep tight and if the bedbugs bite, bite back.’

  I sit upright in my bed. My alarm clock tells me it’s quarter past three in the morning. The house lies quiet around me but I’m wide awake and my body is alert. It’s been twenty-four hours since Megan, Marc and Kyle flew to Scotland. They haven’t been in touch to say they’re coming back, so the vibration that’s in the air isn’t the house alerting me to their presence.

  There’s a static sound that’s as loud as any clarion bell in my ears. This happened once before around four months ago when a group of juvenile goblins thought it would be fun to try and break into the Manor to raid Mrs Evans’ fabled blackberry preserves. They didn’t get very much further than the standing stones at the edge of the park surrounding the Manor and in the end, after we got them to agree to act as scouts for us on an ongoing job, we paid them with five jars.