Page 5 of The Magpie Lord
Merrick opened the door with some dignity. “My lord,” he said. “We brought back a number of items on our most recent return, Mr. Day. That picture was, I believe, in the library at Piper.” Day leapt up to inspect it, running his fingers over the frame, ignoring the image. “There were also a number of books, sir. They have been placed on these shelves.”
“Together?” asked Day, staring at the crowded shelves that covered an entire wall.
“No, sir.”
“Blast.”
Day moved over to the shelf and spread his hands out over the spines of several books, fingers twitching slightly. “Nothing is leaping out at me. Lord Crane, I suggest you leave before it happens again and let me try to find it on my own.”
“Findwhat? Do you know what’s happening to me?”
“It’s a Judas jack.” Day turned a thick book over in his hands. “No question about that. We’re looking for something about the size of an apple. Wooden. You brought something back with this thing in it, and it’s in this room somewhere. Now, Mr. Merrick, please take Lord Crane out of this building, and keep him away for a couple of hours. He should not be here in the evening till I find this thing, and it’s nearly eight already.”
Crane and Merrick both glanced automatically at the clock. Merrick said, hesitantly, “My lord, that ain’t the library clock from Piper, is it?”
Crane’s brows drew together. “It looks like it. Ugly thing. But you brought it, you should know.”
“I didn’t bring it. It turned up here. I thought you brought it.”
“No,” said Crane, with care. “No, I don’t recall doing that.”
Day looked at the carriage clock that stood on the mantelpiece. It showed one minute to eight. He flexed his hands before reaching out and picking it up.
“The back’s locked,” he observed. “It’s big enough. And...a clock, and it happens at the same time... Lord Crane, leave. Get out. Mr. Merrick, get rid of himnow.”
“Yes, sir—oh shit,” said Merrick as the clock began to strike and Crane took a horrible, sucking breath.
Chapter Three
The greyness came on harder and faster than before. Crane could taste the ivy in his mouth now, feel the assault on his mind, almost hear, somewhere outside hearing, a whispering of voices.
damned
worthless
die
He wasn’t aware he was going for a knife. He only vaguely heard Day bellow, “Hold him!” There was a pain, and a force bringing him to the floor, and some damned thing stopping him from getting the knife that meant sweet oblivion, release, the fresh flow of blood he owed. He thrashed and kicked, and heard the shouts and thumps as though they were happening a long way away, even the yell of alarm right in his ear, and then quite suddenly the greyness receded, and he was face down on the rug, with both arms twisted behind his back and a heavy weight pinning him to the ground. The breathy flow of whispered Shanghainese obscenities identified his assailant as Merrick.
“I’m all right,” he said, muffled. “I’m all right. Get off me, you lump.”
“Don’t,” Day said from the end of the room. “Keep him down.”
Crane angled his neck uncomfortably. Day was also on the floor, kneeling by the fireplace. His left hand was held rigid, just above the floor, its fingers contorted into splayed claws. Under it was somethingCrane couldn’t quite see. Day had the abstracted look again, his lips were drawn back from his teeth, and from where Crane lay, his eyes seemed to be pure darkness with a ring of white.
“Let me up,” Crane snapped.
“Don’t let him up,” Day repeated. “Don’t let him move. Break his arms if you have to.”
“Day—”
“I’m having a certain amount of trouble holding this thing.” Day’s voice had a slight tremor of tension to it. “And I need it held, but the nodes... I’m making this too complicated. This is craft. Wood, blood and birdspit. Where’s my bag?”
“By the door.”
Day looked over at the bag, several feet away, and let out a hiss of annoyance. He sat back slightly, stretching out his right hand, and something leapt from the bag, hit the ground with a clang and a rattle, and rolled towards the clerk-like man, stopping within his reach.
“Oh my Gawd,” said Merrick.
