We’ve all found our way to the kitchen for food and warmth. Gabriel is speaking to me normally again and Annalise is beside me, though they haven’t actually spoken to each other yet. Annalise first met Gabriel in Geneva and sensed then that he didn’t like her. I’ve told her about his feelings for me, and she was surprised but said, “I thought he hated me because I was a White Witch. At least that explains things a little more.” I haven’t told her that he doesn’t trust her, that he thinks she’ll betray me.
There’s a range in the kitchen, which is like the one in Celia’s house in Scotland, and I’m sitting in front of it, my boots propped up against it to dry. Steam is coming off my damp clothes. The kitchen is a surprise. There’s no fridge, no freezer, and definitely no microwave but there is a good store of food in the pantry. There are tins, pots, and jars. Three hams, strings of onions and garlic, a sack of potatoes, and shelves of round cheeses. And Nesbitt has found the wine store.
“We’ll bury Mercury and Pers tomorrow morning. First thing,” Van says.
“And after that? What are you going to do?” Gabriel asks her.
Van looks at me and says, “There’s a meeting with the White rebel leaders in Basle in four days’ time. I’ll be going to that. I’d like you to come with me, Nathan, if you are joining us.”
“I said I’d join you and I will. And you also said that you’d return the Fairborn to me.”
“I did, didn’t I? And I rather expected you’d want it as soon as possible.” She takes her cigarette case out of her jacket and says, “Nesbitt, please give the Fairborn to Nathan.”
Nesbitt takes the knife from a leather bag that is at Van’s feet. He holds it in his hand, looking at it. I know he’s not going to just hand it over; that would be too easy for Nesbitt. He looks at me and smiles but he’s holding it out to Gabriel. “You want it, Gabby?”
Gabriel shakes his head.
“Go on. Take it. Take the knife and stab me.”
Gabriel smiles now. “That’s a tempting offer.” He reaches over and then hesitates and looks at me, suddenly cautious. “You’ve used it?”
I nod. “Twice.” Once on myself and once on Jessica, and both times the knife felt like it had a life of its own. A soul of its own. And it was bent on cutting open everything.
Nesbitt, grinning, is still holding out the knife.
I say, “Please take that smile off his face, Gabriel. You’d be doing us all a favor.”
Gabriel reaches for the Fairborn. His left hand is on the sheath and his right on the handle. He pulls. It looks odd, almost comic: Gabriel pulling and then tugging. The knife seems to be stuck in the sheath.
“Won’t come out, will it?” Nesbitt says.
Gabriel looks at me. “No.”
Nesbitt takes it and makes a show of trying too.
Van says, “It’s made for you, Nathan. For your family. It recognizes its owner and will only cut for you, your father, his father, and so on. It’s an extremely powerful object. The magic to do that—to recognize you, to last for a hundred years or more—is exceptional.”
Nesbitt tosses the knife over to me. “So not much use to anyone but you.”
I catch the Fairborn, stand, move round the table, and slide the blade out of its sheath in a second, putting the tip under Nesbitt’s chin. “It really wants to cut you, Nesbitt,” I say. Only I’m not just saying it: the knife does want to cut; it feels alive in my hand. There’s a darkness to it, a murderous quality. The Fairborn wants blood.
There’s something too serious about the Fairborn to torment Nesbitt with it. I look at the knife. The handle is black, as is the blade, which is a strange, almost coarse metal with no shine to it, although it is razor-sharp. It’s heavy. I slide it into the sheath of worn black leather and the Fairborn reluctantly goes back. Then I slide it out and it almost rushes into my hand, and I force it in again and I’m getting the feel of it now. I let it slide out once more and then force it in hard.
Scars
It’s a bit like one of my old fantasies, only miles better, warmer and much sweatier than I ever thought it would be. I can’t move because I don’t want to wake Annalise. She’s curled up against me now but in the night we were tangled up, all legs and arms, and that was good and this is good. There’s nothing bad about this.