Читать книгу Hero Rising - Shane Hegarty, Shane Hegarty - Страница 10

Lucien was annoyed with his kids. Lucien was always annoyed with his kids.

“Put down that head, Elektra,” Lucien ordered his daughter, an eight-year-old girl with seemingly inexhaustible batteries. She had an eye for trouble. And another eye for mayhem. Right now she was wandering around the wide, circular library of Finn’s house with a 250-year-old stuffed Minotaur head on her thin shoulders, wobbling and giggling, while her six-year-old brother Tiberius hit her with a large spear.

Finn and Emmie watched from where they stood in the long corridor, right beside the bare spot on the wall where Finn’s portrait was supposed to be hanging. Beside it was the square in which his father’s portrait was meant to be, and alongside it the dark rectangle from where his grandfather Niall Blacktongue had once gazed. He was gone too, considered the first bad apple in what Lucien had decided was a rotten crop.

“Put down that spear, Tiberius,” Lucien ordered his son.

Tiberius brought it swinging down on his sister’s head, and she staggered backwards into a shelf of ancient desiccated Legends.

From the hallway to the library, Lucien strode angrily to the door, gripped it with knuckle-whitening frustration, considered saying something, but reconsidered before slamming it shut just as Elektra hit the floor and Tiberius leaped on her tummy.

“They’ll get tired eventually,” he said.

From the other side of the door they heard the sound of a spear hitting a stuffed Minotaur head, followed by a muffled sound of pain.

Lucien drew a long, steadying breath and turned his attention to the other problematic young people in his life.

“You know the writer for The Most Great Lives is due to visit?” he said to Finn. The Most Great Lives of the Legend Hunters, from Ancient Times to the Modern Day was the most prestigious, popular and long encyclopaedia. Its publishers had waited years for Finn to become a proper Legend Hunter so they could print, and sell, a new version.

Unfortunately, The Most Great Lives had a section on traitors.

“They want to write an entry even though you are not yet a proper Legend Hunter,” continued Lucien, unblinking. “There is such demand for your story. Everyone wants to hear it. But the rumour is they have not yet decided if you should be among the heroes at the front, or the traitors hidden under black pages at the back of the book.”

Lucien rubbed a palm over his few wisps of hair. “So I wonder, young man, why you look so satisfied for somebody on the verge of destroying his family’s legacy?”

Letting that thought sit, Lucien set off down the corridor so that he and Emmie were forced to walk alongside him.

“How many times do you have to be told to stay out of things in Darkmouth?”

“Dunno,” Finn answered, as insolent as he could manage. “How many times has it been so far, Emmie?”

“Quite a lot,” she said.

Lucien stopped, and even though he was neither tall nor imposing, he radiated a menace that made Finn bristle all the same. He felt the hair prickle on his neck, hoped it hadn’t been noticed.

“You are a cocky young man these days,” Lucien said, his breath as sour as his mood. “You weren’t always like that. I know this from previous reports. From everything Estravon told me.”

“That was before you kicked us out of our home.” It hurt Finn to know he was only visiting his own house. He missed every part of it, and it all seemed so much sharper to his senses now he was hardly in it. The distinctive must of the corridor, of metal and wood and peeling portraits. The vinegary odour of Desiccator fluid that had leaked into the walls over the years.

Lucien’s kids had filled much of this place with their toys and clothes and stench. It made Finn nauseous to even contemplate it. But he needed to keep his mind focused on one job right now. Which was being really obnoxious to Lucien.

“I have been very lenient on you and your family given what you have done,” Lucien told him with a wave of his hand while walking on again.

“We’ve lost everything because of you,” said Finn.

“I have allowed you to stay at home here in Darkmouth.”

“The other house is not my home,” said Finn, unable to stay patient, and stepping in front of Lucien.

There was a thud and a wail from way behind them at the library door, as Elektra or Tiberius succumbed to some inevitable stuffed-Minotaur-related accident.

Lucien did not flinch. “I have allowed you to stay in Darkmouth while we examine exactly what happened, how and – most importantly – who was involved. You forget that I could have sent you and your parents to Liechtenstein HQ to be imprisoned. Or far worse.”

“Like how you sent Steve away,” said Finn.

Emmie’s face tightened at that.

“As someone who was trapped between worlds, he is helping us understand the threat we all face, that is all,” said Lucien.

“Or you’re getting one more problem out of Darkmouth,” said Finn.

“There are many worse things we could have done to your family. Many, many things that are allowed by the Legend Hunter punishment book.” Lucien paused, then called out. “Estravon?”

Estravon stuck his head out of a small training room off the corridor. “In 1867, Jan the Intolerable was made to eat forty rotten boiled eggs in under three minutes as punishment for his cowardice at the Battle of Little Death.” Estravon retreated back into the room to finish whatever he was up to in there.

“Something’s going on,” Finn said. “You’ve sent the Half-Hunters home. You’ve sent Steve to Liechtenstein. It’s almost like you want them all out of the way.”

“That’s clever. Exactly the kind of quick thinking I would want if I was, say, a traitor working for the Legends,” said Lucien, pausing at the top of the corridor at the first, and oldest, portrait of one of Finn’s ancestors. The painting itself was so ancient it was merely a square of varying brown blobs. A worn plaque beside it declared it to be of long-dead Legend Hunter Aodh the Handsome.

“You’re doing something in the cave,” said Emmie.

“It’s a place where incredibly important and dangerous crystals grow,” explained Lucien. “The only place on Earth, in fact. Those crystals have the power to spontaneously open gateways to the Infested Side. Of course we’re doing something. We’re looking into that strange phenomenon.”

Finn felt cornered, trapped by Lucien’s logic.

“You’re looking a little annoyed now,” Lucien said to him. “Be careful. I know you haven’t exploded in a while but I’ve only just had this door painted and I wouldn’t want you ruining it.”

“You can’t keep doing this,” Finn told him.

“This is your final warning,” said Lucien. “The next time you look like you’re spying on behalf of the Legends, your family will have to go. You. Your mother. Your father. All gone. No more Darkmouth. No more home.”

“You’re framing us,” said Finn.

“Emmie will be gone too. And it will be your fault.” Lucien looked at her. “I don’t even have to ask how upset you would be about that.”

Finn retreated into silence.

Lucien eyed him, pushed his glasses up his nose. “It doesn’t need to be this way. Think about that. Think about your future.”

He casually closed the front door after Finn and Emmie.

They walked down the street a bit, quietly furious, until they were at the corner to the house they now shared.

“We’ll go and check out the cave later,” Finn said. “We know how to get into it now. They’re up to something else, for sure.”

“You heard him, right?” Emmie said, sympathetic but reluctant. “We’re in danger of getting into worse trouble than we’re already in.”

“I remember when you were the one pushing me into things,” Finn said to her.

“And I remember when you were the sensible one,” she said, but he was already jogging on down the street.

“Where are you going?” she called after him.

“To see Dad at work,” Finn called back over his shoulder. “He’ll know what to do.”

So it was that, five minutes later, Finn was in the back of a shop called Woofy Wash, looking at a very grumpy Hugo giving a labradoodle a bath.