DARK BIRTHDAY, by Eldrice
Standard Disclaimers Apply: The Dark is Rising Universe belongs solely to Susan Cooper.
A/N: I'm sorry that I haven't updated my other TDIR WIP for months. It's not that I've forgotten it, but that I decided some time ago that it could be much better and needs to be heavily revised – and shortened. I also want to have it substantially completed before I begin posting again, so that's something that will probably have to wait until summer, when I have large chunks of devotable time.
This story, meanwhile, will be rather short and is already completely plotted out and mostly written. I expect to update every week or so. There will be six chapters: two dealing with my main character's birthday, and the following four presenting separate vignettes from TDIR, Greenwitch, The Grey King, and SOTT. And although the first two chapters deal primarily with Sebastian, I promise that characters such as Will, Merriman, Bran, the Black Rider, and the Grey King will have quite substantial…cameos…very soon.
Although any and all feedback is always welcomed, I would particularly appreciate help with any incorrect or misused "British"-isms.
CHAPTER ONE
I.
"Outta the way, Sebastian," Billy drawled. "You're blockin' the telly."
"Sorry, Billy, but I just need these books for – "
"Move!" Billy screamed.
Sebastian moved.
Pressing a history text to his chest, he huddled down into a battered armchair. His older brother, sprawled upon a floral chintz sofa with his head cushioned upon one folded arm, cursed as he flicked through the channels.
"Damn machine," he muttered. "Reception's off again. Biggest match of the year, and all I get is static."
"Maybe I can fix it, Billy," Sebastian offered, standing and scurrying over to the box. He began to fiddle with the rabbit ears, twisting them this way and that. "Sometimes, if you're just patient with it, you can find a good signal and – "
The television emitted a screeching caterwaul. Sebastian reflexively covered his ears and jumped back.
"Bloody hell, Sebastian!" Billy shouted, throwing a slipper at him. "Yer fuckin' useless. Get outta here."
Sebastian fled to the kitchen. The formica table under the fluorescent light was generally a safe refuge, where he could complete his school work in relative peace.
Not tonight.
The staccato clicking of heels announced his mother's approach.
"Oh, Sebastian love," she said, bending down through a cloud of perfume to kiss him. She straightened, licked her thumb, and used the spit to wipe away the smear of lipstick she'd deposited on his cheek. "You'll have to go to Mr. Mirks' tonight. I have a gentleman caller coming by. You know Gregory Billings, don't you?"
Sebastian nodded. Gregory Billings was the bouncer at the downstairs bar. He made lewd comments at every schoolgirl who walked past.
The two wineglasses in her fumblinghands made empty clinking noises as she retrievied a bottle of wine from the shelf. "Well, Gregory and I are going to watch the telly together tonight, Sebastian, and it'll be nice to have some adult time, you know? Just us, for once."
"All right, Mum. I'll go."
His mother's head whirled towards the parlor. "Billy!" she screeched. "Did ye hear that? Your arse better be off that sofa in twenty minutes, or else!"
"Else what?"
"Don't give me your cheek, boy. With all the headaches and problems you give me, the least you could do is – "
"Stuff it, Mum. You think I want to stay here for the snog fest? Christ, I'd rather watch mold grow...less disgusting. Anyway, my shift starts in thirty minutes. Can you keep your lips to yourself 'til then?"
His mother spluttered. "You little snot, how dare you talk to me like that! Take it back right now, Billy, I swear, or I'll – "
The sound of the slamming door was Billy's only response.
Sebastian had quietly gathered his books together and shrugged into his jacket. His shoes were next to the fridge, and he fumbled at the laces as he pulled them on. He'd left the kitchen and was almost to the flat door when –
"Oh, Sebastian, wait just a sec, love!"
He turned and focused his gaze on the strand of bleach-blonde hair that his mother was twirling around one finger as she stood in the kitchen doorway.
"You didn't think I'd forgotten, did you?" she asked teasingly. "Your birthday's tomorrow, isn't it?"
Sebastian grunted, although a small smile threatened to turn up one corner of his mouth.
His mother winked at him. "The big eleven. Well, we'll do something real special this year, honest. Maybe burgers over at Millie's? And forget Billy. You can watch whatever you want on the telly tomorrow, I promise. It's all yours."
Sebastian loathed television. "Thanks, Mum," he replied. "That'll be real nice." And he quietly closed the door behind him.
II.
Sebastian Bligh had lived with his mother and brother in a seedy London flat for the entirety of his ten living years. He'd been taught many things in that time. A quick learner, he knew every curse word and all their colorful connotations by the age of five. Physically, he was adept at dodging the trajectory missiles his brother launched in his direction. And he knew that asking about his father would only make his mother weep and pull out her hidden bottle of gin.
Sebastian also knew that bad things happened when he talked too much. His brother found his voice irksome, and Sebastian usually had any number of black and blue pinch marks under his jumper to prove the fact. As for his mother, she tended to look vague and wander away whenever he spoke, mumbling, "Headache, love. I think I'll just go lie down for a sec."
All things considered, his world was most tolerable when he just kept silent and pretended he wasn't there, enacting scenarios of mischief merely in his imagination. At school, even though he always got the best marks, he spoke only when spoken to, although he sometimes put worms in the other students' lunches and silently laughed to himself when he heard the horrified squeals of discovery. But his teachers tended to let him go his own way. Everyone did.
Everyone, of course, except for Mr. Mirks.
Although his mother had effectively banished him for the evening, Sebastian walked down the apartment building's hall with an almost cheerful step. Lights on the ceiling emitted a sickly orange light, which gave his dark hair a Halloween glow. He'd lived in this building his whole life, which was forever as far as he was concerned, so he didn't notice that the walls were covered with dingy grey wallpaper and were saturated with the stench of damp cigarette smoke.
He hesitated only a secondat Mr. Mirks' door before knocking.
"Who's there?" an annoyed voice growled. "I'm busy."
"It's me...Sebastian. May I come in?"
The door flew open, and a large man stood there beaming. He reached out and dropped one chubby arm around the small boy's shoulders. "Sebastian!" he cried merrily. "I should've known! Of course you'd stop by, tonight being what it is. Come in, lad, come in."
Sebastian smiled and let himself be pulled into Mr. Mirks' flat, his favorite place in the world. The parlor held several overstuffed chairs, and bookshelves lined almost every free inch of wall space. He'd spent many weekends there simply curled up reading. If books didn't occupy a space, some odd and amazing artifact from a distant corner of the globe did. Mr. Mirks had once been an explorer. There was an ivory elephant tusk, and chunks of ruby coral from the south seas. Sebastian's favorite, though, was the deliciously gruesome collection of shrunken heads.
"I'm sorry to bother you, sir," he apologized. "But my Mum's having company tonight, and she wondered whether I could stay with you for awhile?"
Mr. Mirks arched one eyebrow down at the boy. "Company, eh? Is it that Billings bloke again? Well, well."
Sebastian stared down at his shoes and tried not to blush. A familiar feeling of shame and resentment settled in his chest.
"But of course you can stay, lad," Mr. Mirks said hurriedly, not waiting for a response. "And you never need an excuse, either. You're always welcome. Now come, let's get you some tea."
"Thank you, sir."
Ushered into the cozy kitchen, Sebastian perched upon a stool and watched as Mr. Mirks bustled about, pulling down cups and whistling as he arranged numerous pastries on a platter. The radio was turned on, and Sebastian found himself tapping his foot in time to a rollicking, manic fiddle piece.
"I'm awfully glad you visited tonight, lad," Mr. Mirks huffed, bending down to check the flame under the kettle. "It gets mighty lonesome here for an old man living all by himself."
Sebastian nodded. "Well, I like coming here, sir," he confessed. "But what did you mean earlier?"
"Eh?" Mr. Mirks asked, blinking at him over a pair of bifocals.
"When I first arrived. You said something strange, that you should've known I'd be stopping by tonight. But how could you know that?"
"Ah," Mr. Mirks said, and a strange, inscrutable look that Sebastian didn't recognize came over his face. "Well, it's your birthday tomorrow, lad, right? Eleven? An important day. Midwinter's Day, too, of course."
"Yes, but what does that have to do with anything?"
"Oh, nothing."
"But then, why – ?"
"Sebastian! You ask too many questions. And here I am, forced to give you your birthday present early."
"Oh!" Sebastian blurted, his face flushed. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to – "
Mr. Mirks laughed. "Never mind." He reached up and fished with one arm around a cabinet, finally pulling out a large, squishy package wrapped in brown paper. He smiled so broadly that his teeth seemed to get in the way of the kind words. "Here you go. Happy birthday."
Pleased, Sebastian took the package in his arms, balancing it against his chest. He threw it on the table and fumbled with the strings holding it together, tearing them apart greedily. The paper fell away and revealed a soft brown material brown.
"What in the world…?" Sebastian muttered, holding his present up to the kitchen light.
"It's a coat," Mr. Mirks said. "Genuine beaver fur. Here, feel it."
Awed, Sebastian ran his hand down the silky fur, his fingers delicately dancing around the large buttons. Holding the coat chest high, it fell in golden brown ripples clear to the floor. He'd never seen something so luxurious before.
Mr. Mirks sniffed. "That jacket you've been wearing for three years now is shameful. You'll be needing something better against the coming cold, something more worthy of your position."
"Thank you, sir," Sebastian breathed, eyes shining. "It's…stunning."
Mr. Mirks magically produced two further gifts while he finished preparing tea: a matching fur hat and leather gloves. Sebastian, the new owner of such fine garments, felt himself swelling with gratified pride as he laid them carefully beside his new coat. When the tea was ready, the boy and man each took a seat facing each other at the small wooden table, which was scored and marked with years of use. One of Sebastian's favorite pastimes was to simply sit at that table and follow the scrolls and lines with his eyes, until it seemed that they came alive with a meaning of their own.
He sipped at his cup, relishing the warmth that spread from nose to toes. Mr. Mirks, heavy-lidded eyes drooping, sighed in contentment, munched on some biscuits, and vaguely asked Sebastian about school.
"Oh, it's all right," Sebastian shrugged, muttering through a mouthful of pasty. "Pretty easy, and the other students are fairly dim. I don't have to pay much attention to beat them and get the top marks."
"Well done, lad!" Mr. Mirks congratulated him.
Sebastian gulped his tea. "We did have an interesting speaker the other day though. An Oxford professor. Came to tell us all about Arthurian legend. Funny looking old man he was: very tall, very grave, never smiled. None of his stories made any sense, though, with magic and all that rot. Complete nonsense, of course. But he was very polite when I asked him some questions afterwards, trying to trip him up."
Engrossedby his tea,Sebastian didn't see the horrible pallor that passed over Mr. Mirks' face, the twisted grimace that contorted his smile as hewatched the small boy seated across from him. But Mr. Mirks was experienced and wise, and thus able to swiftly cover his hatred, so that when Sebastian looked up again, all he saw on the face of his old friend was lazy interest.
"Tell me, Sebastian," Mr. Mirks said craftily, steering the conversation to a more appropriate subject. "Does your mother know how intelligent you are, how far you fly above your fellow schoolmates?"
Sebastian laughed bitterly. "She doesn't notice anything about me, sir."
"But your teachers? Your older brother? Surely, they – "
Sebastian shook his head. No one had ever bothered.
Mr. Mirks smashed a beefy fist upon the table, setting the tea crockery clattering. "Well, blast it, boy! Isn't there anyone who appreciates you?"
Sebastian stared at the table and twisted a napkin in one hand. "Well…you do, sir," he said quietly.
A slow smile spread over Mr. Mirks face. "Aye, lad," he said. "That I do. You're special, you know. And one day, you'll be recognized for it."
Sebastian grinned. He'd always felt that way, as if it was merely a matter of time before he became…someone. Someone important, someone that people couldn't ignore. Still, he kept his voice carefully nonchalant. "Maybe…but not for a long time yet."
"Oh, I don't know, Sebastian," Mr. Mirks winked at him. "Your moment may come sooner than you imagine. In fact, it might be right around the corner."
III.
Sebastian used his key to let himself back into the flat sometime after midnight. Billings was gone, but his mother was snoring on the sofa, one arm hanging off and clutching a television remote. The set was muted, but the screen flickered an eerie blue and green in the room's darkness.
A sigh heavy as stone escaped him. "Dammit." He could smell the alcohol even from the door. "Happy birthday, Sebastian," he whispered sullenly, throwing his key on the table.
Any other night, he would've tiptoed to his mother's side, carefully disengaged the remote from her fingers, turned off the television, and made sure she had a coverlet to keep her warm. Tonight, though, as the wind shrieked through the cracks in the windows and an unseasonably early snow fell upon London, he felt only an icy indifference toward the woman who had love for none but herself. Something cold crawled into his heart and told him to stop being naïve and to recognize the truth.
"Why should I bother with her?" he muttered. "Nothing good will come of it for me." And with his arms overloaded with Mr. Mirks' beautiful gifts, Sebastian staggered down a hall to the room he shared with Billy, and fell asleep.