The Moon Child Page 23

  “Greetings.” Count Cazalon tilted his head to one side.

  Something like a smile rippled across his face, though it was difficult to tell because the skin stretched tight across his bones was formed from a patchwork of uneven sections, some of them covered with hair. Two raw pits gouged at the centre of his face were all that remained of his nose and his bald scalp was mottled and bumpy with moles. Only his eyes – slanted, black and glittering with malice – were unmistakably the same.

  He jerked forward and Jem saw that he carried himself oddly, one shoulder twisted and almost level with his ragged mouth. Cazalon paused at the foot of the stairs and stared at them in turn. He ruffled the dirty white feathers of the cape that covered his entire body and Osiris mirrored the action.

  The count made no attempt now to mask his smell with the sweetness of roses or spices from the East as he had done in London. No perfume on earth could disguise the stench of a living corpse. Jem flinched as the count leaned towards him and opened his black, sticky mouth. He tried to step back, but couldn’t move from the spot.

  “I trust you remember that simple magic, Jeremy, from our last meeting? Surely you cannot have forgotten the way I bound your feet to the stones of the cavern beneath St Paul’s?” Jem ducked his head to avoid inhaling the foulness. He heard the man laugh.

  “How disappointing. You do not seem as pleased to see me as I am to see you. And I have been planning our reunion with such care, have I not, Isabel?”

  “You are always the most attentive of hosts, my lord.”

  Jem heard Tolly stifle a gasp as Madame de Chouette appeared from the shadows at the top of the stairs. She descended and came to stand just behind Cazalon, resting a gloved hand on his shoulder. Her black dress shimmered in the glow of the flames.

  Madame smiled, but her mouth was now deformed by a deep scar that ran up from her chin, across her cheek and over the lid of her one eye, disappearing into her auburn hair. She glanced at Mingan and clawed at the folds of her dress with her gloved hands.

  Jem felt beads of perspiration form on his forehead. How could this be happening?

  Tolly’s voice rang out in his head. “Jem! Can you try to —’

  Cazalon twisted sharply, shooting an arm that was more bone than flesh from the folds of the feathered cape. Tolly yelled as something like a hand gripped his chin.

  “I see that my servant has yet to learn manners. It is always so rude to speak without being asked, Ptolemy. You will not do so again.” Cazalon’s eyes flickered across Tolly’s face. “Ah, but of course, I almost forgot. That is the name I gave you, not your true name. You told me that when you left me in the cavern beneath St Paul’s, when we were last together.” The probing tip of his black tongue moistened his flaking lips. “I have thought about you all often since that day. And about the promise I made.”

  “But how …?” Jem couldn’t stop himself. He had to know.

  “Don’t speak to him …” Tolly’s voice faded in his head as Madame de Chouette stepped over and enfolded him in a black embrace, pinning Tolly’s arms to his sides.

  “How did I escape? Is that what you were going to say?” Cazalon smiled. “I am an adept – probably the most powerful this world has ever known. Osiris!” He turned to the white bird bobbing on the stairpost. “Shall we show them?”

  In answer, Osiris unfurled his wings and rose into the air. At the same moment Cazalon spread his arms wide so that the feathered cloak swirled about him. The raven circled the room twice and then swooped low. The count grinned as the bird extended his claws and came to rest on one of his outstretched arms. Instantly, the air around the count wrinkled. Jem blinked hard as his vision seemed to split in two. Part of him registered the twisted form of Cazalon standing at the foot of the stairs, but another part of his mind saw the wavering shape of Osiris lengthen until giant wings enveloped the count’s entire body. Now the distorted outline of man and bird pulsed like a beating heart.

  As Jem watched, the man’s face blurred into a long, tapering skull. Then Osiris was gone and there was only Cazalon.

  “Do you understand now?” The count held his hideous head to one side. “Perhaps not – you’re both such simple souls, after all. Little Ann might have been able to explain it to you, but unfortunately you will never see her again.” He turned to Madame de Chouette. “It is not a skill everyone can perfect, is it, Isabel?”

  Jem saw a glint of spite in his eyes as he continued.

  “It is always dangerous to split the soul in two, but there is also a safety in it – as I have proved. Osiris is my Ba, my shadow self. My spirit. It was the highest magic of the temple priests at Thebes. Three thousand years ago I learned the secret of the rite of separation and it has been of great use.”

  He jerked his head towards Madame de Chouette. “Poor Isabel here begged me to teach her, but she could not achieve totality. At the final moment of the rite she could not divide body from soul. It is why you are so maimed, is it not, ma cherie? Cursed forever to walk on the feet of a bird.”

  “But you have promised, my lord.” Madame de Chouette loosened her grip on Tolly and now Jem heard the familiar ticking noise. “When you take the girl’s power, you will make me whole again, and more?”

  Cazalon dipped his head, but Jem saw the fleeting amusement that flashed in his eyes. “When I take the power. Yes, that is right, Isabel. It is why we are here. Thank you for reminding me.”

  He turned to Jem. “I do not expect a simple boy like you to understand the high magic of Thebes, but when you left me to die beneath St Paul’s, my shadow self, Osiris, escaped. This …” Cazalon passed a withered hand across his face, “is what is left of my earthly body and I have worked hard to keep it alive until the time is right. Many creatures have died to produce the wonder you see before you. I have used their bones, their skin, their blood, their life essence to become whole.”

  “Witiko.” Mingan spat the word and Cazalon turned slowly to face him. He shook his head and began to laugh.

  “Your dog has a voice again, I see. I wondered when he might whimper. I must thank you … Mingan, is it? The Grey Wolf? Well, I find I must thank you for bringing Lady Ann to the valley. I must admit, it was not quite what I intended, but the end is much the same.” He limped forward and Jem saw Mingan flinch at the count’s stench. “Do not attempt to change yourself. It will not work here within the boundaries of my home. The girl is with your mother, I believe.”

  When he didn’t reply, Cazalon scraped a blackened fingernail across Mingan’s scarred cheek. “You and I will go to meet them tomorrow. I know they are waiting – so trusting, so … vulnerable.”

  Blood trickled down Mingan’s chin as Cazalon’s nail gouged deep. “Betrayal – it is a sweet word. Tell me, Grey Wolf, you must have found it difficult to resist the call of your father? Such powerful things, dreams, are they not?”

  Mingan growled and struggled to move, but like Jem and the others he seemed rooted to the marble floor.

  Cazalon grinned slyly at Tolly and then at Jem. “These two are somewhat unexpected guests. You lost them, didn’t you, Isabel, just as you lost my scrying mirror?” For a moment his eyes burned with fury as he turned slowly to look at Madame. When he spoke again his voice was laced with venom. “I told you, did I not, my dear, that it was among the most powerful and valuable of my possessions? Only three pairs of Venetian Cadavere Tocco mirrors were ever produced on the island of Murano, and at great cost I obtained the very last pair in existence. Now there is just one corpse mirror in the world and it is useless without its twin. Tell me, Isabel, do you feel regret for such wanton vandalism?”

  He didn’t wait for an answer but sighed heavily. “Well, that is of little matter for the time being. In fact, it is almost a neat conclusion that these boys are here. It seems, without knowing it, the wolf did your work.”

  Madame de Chouette stepped forward. “I am deeply sorry about the mirror, my lord. But I brought the girl to you and I guided your … dwelling plac
e across the ocean for the time when you are whole. You will honour your promise, Lord Cazalon?”

  “Ah yes, promises.”

  He stalked towards the fire and stared into the flames. When he spoke, his voice froze the blood in Jem’s veins.

  “I made a promise beneath the burning wreck of old St Paul’s Cathedral. I wonder, Jeremy, do you recall it now?”

  Jem couldn’t bear to reply.

  “Then let me refresh your memory. I swore that I would hunt you down to the ends of the earth and beyond, and that when I found you I would ensure that the pain you inflicted upon me would be returned upon you sevenfold.”

  He paused.

  “And so we meet again – at the ends of the earth.”

  CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE

  Cazalon threw back the great double doors of Malfurneaux Place. With difficulty, Jem wrenched his neck to watch the count hobble into the night.

  As a chill gust of wind was sucked through the doors, the fire in the hearth roared, flooding the hall with a blinding flash of light. Jem lowered his head to shield his eyes. When he looked again, the black-and-white marble floor beneath his feet had vanished. He was standing on blood-spattered snow. He tried to step forward, but it felt as if his feet were buried in the earth.

  Now they were all outside the longhouse again, facing the tattered hide flap that served as an entrance. Beyond the roof Jem saw the edge of the forest and high above the trees a cleft in the distant mountains formed a V. There was a faint glow in the V’s lowest point.

  Jem pulled the folds of the cloak tight about him. It wasn’t because of the cold; it was because he wanted to be certain that the staff was hidden. If only he could use it like Tolly. He wracked his brains trying to think of something to do.

  Tolly fumbled with the folds of his own cloak.

  “Give me the creature.” Madame de Chouette swept between them and ripped Tolly’s brown fur cloak apart. She plucked Cleo from his side and held her aloft by a hind leg, just as she had done on the ship. Cleo squealed and scrabbled uselessly at the air as the woman dangled her above the ice.

  “Please – not Cleo,” Tolly pleaded desperately, but Madame de Chouette whirled around and with a sudden vicious lunge hurled the little monkey into the air over the longhouse. They heard a screech of terror and then a sickening crunch.

  “No!” Tolly’s cry of misery tore into the night. He struggled to move, but his feet wouldn’t obey. Instead he lashed out at the woman’s head. She stepped neatly out of reach and smiled. Her tiny yellow teeth glinted in the light of the full moon now peering out between the mountains. “You will not miss her for long, boy.”

  Jem felt his eyes brim with tears and saw something leave a dark trail in the snow-dusted skin of Tolly’s cheeks. He clutched the hidden staff. There had to be something he could do.

  From somewhere behind, Cazalon laughed, but Jem couldn’t turn to look at him.

  “Do not waste your tears on an animal. You do not yet know the true meaning of misery. Now turn to face me – all of you.”

  Involuntarily, Jem, Tolly and Mingan moved as one, shuffling about in the snow so that they were facing Cazalon. He stood on the edge of the black lake and the feathers of his cape blew up around his patched bald head.

  Cazalon’s eyes narrowed. “It is a kindness. I am sure you would not want your little pet to see what I am going to do next.”

  Mingan bared his teeth and snarled. “Witiko.”

  Cazalon smiled in triumph. “You are mistaken. I am not a Witiko.” He narrowed his eyes. “But your father, Annawan, now that is a different matter. I was blinded by fury when he came to me. I needed those children. Look at me – this face, this body is an abomination. I am ruined, but with young flesh, young lives, I could have —’

  He stopped as his voice rose to a shriek of rage. He smoothed the feathered cape around his twisted shoulders.

  “I thought of killing him, but that seemed too kind. Instead I made him a Witiko – I condemned him forever to walk between the worlds of the living and the dead. He is entirely my creature now. Your wise old father, wolf prince, is a shambling, mindless wreck. He feeds like an animal and what he doesn’t destroy he brings to me so that I may … restore my ravaged body as best I can.”

  Jem’s gorge rose as Cazalon scratched thoughtfully at a tattered square of coarse dark hair beside his pitted nose. The man saw his disgust. His black eyes glittered.

  “When Annawan returns before dawn I will feed Jeremy and my servant Ptolemy to him. And I will allow you to watch your father’s hunger, Grey Wolf. It will not be pleasant.”

  He limped towards Jem and gripped a hank of his hair, yanking his head back. “To think I wasted time on you when all I needed to do was to wait until my ward came into her estate.”

  Even in the open air the rotting smell that rolled from Cazalon’s body was almost too much to bear.

  “Do you remember I told you how I travelled the world in search of knowledge, boy?” He released his grip and crunched away so that he stood on the lip of the lake with his back to them. He raised his arms and the tattered cloak flew up around him.

  “I first found this place many years ago when the northmen came to this land in their long boats. I knew immediately what it was, even then. It is like the cavern beneath the cathedral, a place where the powers of the earth can be harnessed … in the right circumstances and at the right time.”

  “And that time is coming soon, my lord.” Madame de Chouette rustled past Jem and knelt on the stained snow at Cazalon’s feet. “The first day of May.”

  Cazalon rubbed his mottled cheek and to Jem’s disgust a sliver of skin detached itself. He rolled it between his fingers and dropped it to the snow. “I have waited for so long, that three months will pass …” he clicked his fingers, “in the blink of an eye. I have walked this earth for three thousand years and now, I will be ready to meet the dark god, Set, when he comes for me. In the meantime, we will be … comfortable here in the valley with Lady Ann as our guest. There is no one to disturb us.”

  “And then we will take her power.” Madame de Chouette reached for the hem of his feathered cloak.

  “We?” Jem heard a dangerous snap in Cazalon’s voice, but Madame de Chouette didn’t seem to notice. Instead she turned her single amber eye on Jem and Tolly.

  “Did you know that on her thirteenth birthday little Ann will be as powerful as my Lord Cazalon – for the single minute he allows her to live? On the stroke of midnight he will absorb her – every atom of her being and every ounce of her new power.” She turned to stare at Mingan and blinked slowly. “It is why I spared you, wolf prince. He will use your blood to awaken the power of this place and on that day he will become a true immortal. He will be a god. It is his destiny.”

  Jem’s knuckles cracked beneath the cloak as he gripped the staff. He wanted to swing the wretched thing at the woman’s head, but he couldn’t move as she reached into the neck of her gown.

  “And he has promised to reward me. Look what my lord Cazalon has already given me.” She held something that glittered in her gloved hand. She raised it and turned it about so that it caught the starlight. It was Ann’s crescent jewel. Jem thought the gem-studded moon brooch had been lost forever in the cavern beneath St Paul’s Cathedral.

  “Also a thing of power, I think. Perhaps I will force your friend to show me how to use it while we wait here to celebrate her coming of age … Aaagh!” Madame de Chouette gasped, jerked forward and her eye widened. She flattened a hand against her chest and looked down as black droplets fell upon the snow.

  Only now did Jem see the glowing arrow tip that pierced her back and emerged from her breast.

  CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX

  “The pain! It burns! Help me, my lord!”

  The woman tugged uselessly at the red hot point of the arrow and screeched in agony. She scuffled forward on her knees, her imploring hands reaching towards Cazalon. As the black material of her skirt parted, Jem caught a clear view of the
talons. Her legs ended in two twisted, thickened stumps. The pale, lumpy flesh above her ankles was sparsely patched with dark feathers and grotesque claws twisted upwards behind her. He wanted to look away but he was mesmerised by the sight.

  “My lord, will you not help me?” She gasped as she struggled forward, leaving a thin black trail in the snow. Confused, Jem glanced at Cazalon. He was simply staring at her.

  There was a whistling sound. Without turning, Cazalon raised a corpse-like hand and a second arrow flared and burned to a cinder in the air behind him. Ashes pattered softly down on the snow.

  Mingan twisted his hunched body about and Jem tried to look too, but he couldn’t quite turn his neck far enough. From the corner of his eye he saw Mingan’s blue eyes widen and his nostrils flare.

  “Your mother will not dare to come any closer.” Cazalon’s voice sounded bored. “Look what I have here.” He reached into the neck of the feathered cloak and produced a smooth black oval held on a leather thong. He held it aloft and grinned. “While she believes your father to be alive, she will not come here, wolf prince. And of course, he is alive … in a manner of speaking.”

  Mingan growled, his tattoos rippling as he strained every muscle to spring at the count. But he was like a chained animal.

  Cazalon smiled.

  “Great magician, I beg you …” Madame de Chouette choked and crawled forward a little way more. “Have you forgotten our bargain, my lord? I have made myself a thing of horror for you. You promised.”

  Cazalon regarded her for a long moment and then he smiled so broadly that his distorted mouth spread like a wound across his face. He began to laugh – a croaking noise from the depths of his throat. When he stopped, his black eyes glinted and he spoke in a cold, deliberate voice.

  “You have not made yourself a thing of horror, Isabel. You have always been one. Since the day I first met you – four hundred years ago now, was it? – you have been willing to do anything in return for power. I remember the day when you gave away your left eye. You plucked it out yourself, did you not?”