I lean back in my chair and look at Mercury. She is horrifically thin. But not weak, nothing about her is weak. Even her gray, almost transparent skin looks like it is bulletproof. She is thin like an iron bar, and brittle, and maybe flaking here and there, but as cold and heartless as an iron bar too. Her hair is a mass of wiry gray, black, and white in a swirling pan-scrubber pile of knots and plaits, all held up by long hairpins, which she occasionally pulls out to spin on her fingers.

She wears a long gray dress made of silk or rags, it seems, but parts of it float out when she moves or for no reason at all, as if she is underwater and they are drifting in the current.

I’d love to find out what she knows of my father, but tonight I stick to my Giving. I get it started by offering up, “Thank you for your kindness, Mercury. For looking after me, providing me with a place to stay,” as polite as polite can be.

She inclines her head a little in acceptance. Her dress dances around a little more.

“And thank you for your offer to give me three gifts.”

Again she inclines her head but as she raises it she says, “It’s your birthday soon.”

“Eight days.”

She nods.

I press on with my speech. “I would like to present you with a token, to show my gratitude. Perhaps two tokens, one before the Giving and one after?”

“That is appropriate. Yes. A small token before.”

“It would be a pleasure. Is there anything . . . ?”

Silence.

She loves playing these games.

A bit more silence before she says, “Some information.”

I wait a bit. Give her some silence back. Then finally: “Any particular information?”

“Of course.”

Mercury has her elbows on the table, her fingers rub together, and a long hairpin appears, twirling between them.

“Leave us. You two get out.” She doesn’t look at Gabriel and Rose as she gives her orders but keeps her hollowed-out stare on me. After they have gone outside the wind begins to rattle the door and the windows.

Mercury twirls her hairpin on the tip of her finger.

“The first favor is simple . . . a mere trifle. I’d like you to tell me all you know about those tattoos of yours.”

“And the other favor?”

“Slightly more difficult . . . but perhaps not for you.”

She stabs the hairpin into the table and moves it backward and forward until it comes free again.

“I can’t agree unless I know what the favor is.”

“There aren’t many other options open to you, Nathan.”

Mercury stabs the table again.

I fold my arms and wait.

Her mouth muscles tighten further, and then I struggle not to jump back as she lets out a wild cry, her laugh. The wind howls and Mercury leans across the table to me. Her hands raise and the pin reappears, spinning in her fingers. She speaks, and her breath is ice on my face.

“Why do you want him dead?”

I’m curious rather than angry.

Mercury leans back in her chair and looks at me, I think, though her eyes are just black chasms in her skull. “He has taken a life from me. The life of someone precious. And I intend to take a life from him. And as the only life he holds precious is his own, that is the one I will take.”

“Whose life did he take?”

“My sister. My twin sister, Mercy. He killed her, viciously. He ate her heart.”

Mercy wasn’t on the list of people my father has killed.

“I’m sorry about your sister, but killing Marcus won’t bring Mercy back. And Marcus is my father.”

“Is that a no?”

“I get the feeling that if I say yes but then fail to fulfill my obligation there will be consequences.”

“Of course. For you, your family, your friends. I detest those who break a deal. They must pay the highest price.”

“Then I think your price may be too high.”

She reaches over me with a finger and strokes the tattoo on my hand. “Your father is no hero, Nathan. He is vain and cruel and . . . if you were ever to meet him you would realize that he cares nothing for you.”

I slide my hand away and get up. I move to stand by the fireplace. “Perhaps there is something else you might accept instead.”

She surveys me. “Perhaps.” She gets up and comes to me and strokes her finger over the tattoo on my neck. “Yes, perhaps there is something else. Your services for a year.”

“Services?”

She screeches her laugh out again. “I am always in need of assistants.”

I don’t know if I can stand being with her for a week, never mind a year. I don’t like this at all, but what did I expect? I’ve nothing else to give her.

“I won’t kill people, if that’s what you want.”

She steps back and spreads her hands out a little. “Well, I understand you feel like that now.” Her dress flutters. “But in time . . . your attitude will change.” And as she says it I look in her eyes and I see Kieran on his knees in front of me, a gun in my hand. I blink and look away but I’ve already felt my finger pull the trigger.

She screeches her laugh again. “Killing is in your blood, Nathan. It’s what you are made for.”

I shake my head at her. Besides, if I’m going to kill people, I’ll choose who they are.

“Perhaps you don’t want three gifts after all.”

“I’ll work for you for a year. I won’t kill people.”

“I shall be delighted to remind you of those words in a year’s time.”

“Do. And I’ll tell you what you want to know about my tattoos on the morning of my birthday.”

A chilly gust slaps my face. “We are alone . . . now is a good time.”

“I’m sure we can find time to be alone on my birthday.”

There’s a lull, no wind, nothing but chill in the air. I wonder if she could freeze me to death—probably.

And I’m not going to tell her all I know about my tattoos and certainly not about Mr. Wallend. But I need to work out how much I can reveal to satisfy her.

She goes to the door and without turning to look at me says, “Pass a message on to Gabriel. There is another young person seeking my help. Gabriel must go to the meeting point in Geneva tomorrow.”

The Eagle and Rose

It’s a week until my seventeenth birthday. I’ve found Mercury and she will give me three gifts. Why do I not feel good?

Gabriel has gone to Geneva. He said he’d be back in the late afternoon. It’s hot. The sun is dazzling. A great day for a swim. The hike to the lake takes an hour, but I stop along the way to sit and look at the valley. I’m trying to work out what to tell Mercury about my tattoos but I’m not making any progress.

I lie back and look at the sky. The roar from the river seems loud. High above, a bird soars. It’s an eagle. A big eagle. I watch it for a long time then get up and run to the lake. I’m dizzy, almost stumbling on the path. A swim will wake me up. The lake is nothing more than a large pond really, surrounded by forest and a patch of tall grass on one side. I strip and plunge in.

I swim out a few strokes and am numb. The lake water comes from the snow melt. I roll on my back and look at the uninterrupted blue of the sky and see the eagle again, not so high now.

I watch it for a while, circling higher and higher and then dropping down lower, and then circling higher again, dropping down much lower so that I can see the individual feathers at the ends of its wings. It looks black with the sun behind it. And I sink beneath the surface and realize I’m cold inside, really cold. It’s murky underwater and there’s mud and weeds. I can see the surface above me. I can see it but it seems way above me . . . farther and farther away. I’ve stayed down too long . . . I fight back up but swallow some water.

I’m at the surface again. Water in my nose but gulping air.

“Relax.” It’s Rose. She’s behind me in the water. “Relax!”

I look up to the eagle. He’s back, low, still there hanging above me. I spread my arms out, floating.