Trafalgar

TRAFALGAR

10 June 2059

I will never forget how Warden looked when I returned to him that night. It was the first time I understood that Rephs could experience fear.

Terebell had walked me to the doors of Magdalen. Gail had let me in, turning as ashen as the fog when she realised what I was wearing.

The red tunic was as warm as a fleece. It came with a raincoat, thicker socks, winter combat boots, a thermal undershirt, waterproof trousers, even tactical gloves. The white tunic was a scrap of paper in comparison.

For the first time in three months, I felt prepared and equipped for this city. I didn’t have to brace myself against the cold. I even had a switchblade, which hooked on to my belt. It all made me feel like a Vigile, but I could live with that, if it meant that Nashira believed I was tame.

I climbed the steps and used the iron knocker on the door. When Warden opened it, he went still as stone, taking me in from my face to my reinforced boots.

The trepidation only showed itself for a split second. But I did see it, in that moment – a flicker of insecurity, dim as a candle. I watched him come to the realisation that he might have confided in the wrong person.

‘Paige,’ he said.

‘Warden.’

After a moment, he stood aside. I walked past him.

‘How was your inaugural feast?’

‘Very interesting,’ I said, tracing the red anchor on the gilet. ‘You were right. Nashira did ask me some questions about you.’

There was a brief silence. I removed my new belt from over my gilet.

‘And you answered them.’ His voice was hard and flat. ‘So be it.’ He bolted the door. ‘I must know what you told her, Paige.’

Warden had warned me against pride, but I glimpsed it in him now. He wasn’t going to beg. His jaw was clenched tight, his mouth pressed into a firm line. I wondered what was racing through his mind.

Without replying, I went to his display case and opened it. I reached inside for the snuffbox and held it out to him, so he could see the lid.

‘What does this symbol mean?’

Warden remained silent.

‘Nashira asked me if I’d ever seen it in here,’ I said. ‘What is it?’

‘First tell me how you answered her questions.’

Our gazes locked. Once, I would have taken pleasure in making him wait, just to watch him suffer. Now I wondered if I might be looking at an ally.

‘I lied,’ I said. ‘I told her I’d never seen the flower.’

He watched me return the snuffbox to its place.

‘I didn’t tell her you vanish in the fog. I denied that you’ve ever tried to speak to me in a personal capacity.’ I never broke his gaze as I spoke. ‘I didn’t tell her you burned the pamphlet. I didn’t tell her about the wounds. I didn’t tell her you call me by name.’

His expression changed. I walked towards him until I was close enough to touch.

‘In short,’ I said, ‘your secrets are safe, Warden.’

After a long moment, he went to sit in his wing chair, where he poured his blend of wine and amaranth from the decanter.

‘You withheld information from Nashira,’ he finally said, ‘but you have still been given a red tunic. You must have been very convincing.’

‘Well, they do say the Irish have the gift of the gab. It’s usually meant as an insult,’ I said, ‘but I’ll take it, on this occasion. I was very good.’

‘Hm.’

I kicked off my boots, then shed the gilet and the red tunic. Down to my undershirt and trousers, I curled up on the daybed, facing him.

‘So you have chosen to protect me,’ Warden said. ‘You have come some way from wanting me to die a slow death in the woods, Paige.’

‘I like you more than your consort.’ I helped myself to his wine, pouring a second cup. ‘I think I deserve to know what that symbol is, Warden.’

His eyes flickered with the fire. When he said nothing, I pursed my lips.

‘Suit yourself,’ I said. ‘But I have a theory.’ I leaned towards him. ‘I heard a story that a group of Rephs revolted against the Sargas once. I heard they were the architects of the rebellion on Novembertide. I heard they were tortured in the House.’

‘Where did you hear this?’

‘If you get to have secrets, I do as well.’

David was strange, but I wasn’t about to report him to Warden. He might still be useful.

‘You’re her consort,’ I said. ‘That’s why I never thought you could be one of them, for weeks.’ I held up my goblet. ‘But you drink this for old wounds. You’ve risked keeping a symbol that clearly means a lot to you. Suhail and Thuban treat you with obvious contempt. Most damning of all, your consort doesn’t trust you.’

‘Surely no relationship is perfect,’ Warden said.

I was certain there was a wry note in his voice.

‘That brings me to my other theory, which is that you’re having an affair with Terebell,’ I said. ‘I saw you with her. You seem quite … intimate.’

‘Terebell is an old friend.’

‘A fellow rebel?’

‘Tell me again,’ Warden said. ‘Are you a pickpocket, Paige Mahoney?’

‘Among other things.’ I held his gaze. ‘Are you a scarred one, Arcturus Mesarthim?’ When he looked away, I said, ‘You’d only be confirming that you used to be a rebel. You might not be one now.’

‘If I were, more lives than my own would be at stake if I told you.’

‘Now you understand why I can’t share my whole past with you, either.’

In the long silence that followed, I took a sip of his wine, clearing my faint headache. Warden watched me do it, his fingers drumming on the arm of his chair.

‘I hear we have an external assignment,’ he said. ‘Tomorrow night.’

He was still trying to skirt this discussion. Even now, he wouldn’t confide in me.

‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Your cousin is coming with us.’

‘Situla is no friend of mine. She will report any misconduct to Nashira.’

‘Your misconduct, or mine?’

‘Both.’ Warden drank. ‘It is an interesting coincidence that our target should be the White Binder. Still, since you insist that you have no truck with him … you should also have no qualms about the assignment.’

‘I’d have qualms about bringing anyone here,’ I said, keeping my tone neutral.

‘Then will you hinder the assignment?’

‘Will you punish me if I do?’

‘No.’

Even if he had once been a rebel, he might have changed his ways. All of this could still be trickery. The constant uncertainty was forming a knot behind my ribs, making it hard to breathe. My instincts were at war.

I shouldn’t trust him, even now, but something in me – my criminal intuition – recognised him as a fellow lawbreaker. All syndies knew their own.

‘Nashira may strip you of your tunic, or give you to a different keeper,’ Warden said. ‘If that happens, I will not be able to help you, Paige.’

‘Why do you want to help me?’

Warden looked at me with burning eyes.

‘Are you training me to die,’ I said, ‘or to fight back?’

We were teetering on the brink of a confession. I found myself holding my breath, my chest tight. One of us was going to have to crack.

And suddenly, I knew it needed to be me. I had to be the one to take the risk – to break the deadlock, so we could be honest with each other.

Because if Warden was a scarred one, he had good reason to mistrust me. Twenty years ago, he had tried to save us, and one selfish human – one weak link – had brought the rebellion crashing down.

Warden had no idea if I was cut from the same cloth. If he was going to try again, he had to make sure he was choosing the right allies.

He wanted to trust me. I believed that. But if he learned for sure that I was the Pale Dreamer, he never would. A woman who had served the White Binder by choice – he would be reluctant to rely on my integrity.

He had already guessed the truth, and this assignment would confirm it. I had no plans whatsoever to detain either Jaxon or Carter.

Yet he was still interested, even with his suspicions. Even knowing I was a criminal.

‘Say I did work at a higher level of the syndicate – if I was more than just a pickpocket,’ I eventually said. ‘What would you think about that?’

Warden looked into the fire.

‘The syndicate is a blade with two edges,’ he said. ‘It is rare for us to capture its voyants, which implies it offers a degree of protection. Those who arrive here are often loners, rejected either by the gangs or their own families, or both. That is why they are easy to indoctrinate. They have been mistreated by their own kind, as well as Scion.’

‘Because of people like the White Binder.’

‘As you say.’ He regarded me. ‘We treat our human prisoners as inferior, but we acknowledge their clairvoyance. We give them a place, and the opportunity to rise. For many, that is preferable to the streets.’

‘You seem to know a lot about this. How, if you don’t catch many syndies?’

‘Michael was once a polyglot,’ he said. ‘He knows Glossolalia, or Gloss – our language, the language of spirits.’

So that was its name.

‘Like you, he was untaught, alone. He could not always control his outbursts,’ Warden continued. ‘His parents were so appalled and afraid that they forced him to drink bleach, trying to burn the unnaturalness out. The trauma collapsed his dreamscape. After that, he could not speak.’

It was trauma that made an unreadable. The dreamscape would grow back with layer upon layer of armour, preventing all spiritual attack.

‘The Overseer found him,’ Warden said. ‘He was living rough on the streets of Southwark, having been rejected by the syndicate.’ I clenched my jaw. ‘Michael told me he prefers Magdalen to London. Though he is treated as an amaurotic here, he still has an aura. I taught him to sign. He may never sing in the way he once did, with the voices of the dead, but he is trying to speak again.’

This was far more than I had expected to hear from this conversation.

‘Michael does not mind me telling you this,’ Warden said, seeing my face. ‘He encouraged it.’

It took me a moment to answer. ‘You really taught him to sign?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why would you do that?’

‘Michael is under my protection. You all are, in Magdalen,’ he said. ‘I do not know what I can do for this world, but I will not let any harm come to you.’

Silence returned to the chamber. Warden placed his goblet between us.

‘An Irish girl in the conquerors’ stronghold, hiding a power she neither understood, nor knew how to control,’ he said. ‘A father who could not help her.’ I looked away. ‘One turn in the path, and you might have shared the same fate as Michael. If you sought protection in the underworld, I am in no position to sit in judgement, Paige.’

‘No,’ I said softly. ‘You’re not.’

They might look like us, but they’re nothing like us. Liss was in my head. Do not let your guard down …

‘We should get some sleep,’ I said.

‘Yes. Gail believes the roof will not be finished until winter,’ Warden said. ‘While you stay in the parlour, I will give you as much privacy as I can. There is a nightshirt in the linen cabinet.’

I nodded, and he went into the bathroom. Once I heard the water running, I drew on the nightshirt, which tied at the waist with a broad sash. It was cream silk, soft against my skin.

In all our weeks together, Warden had landed one nail on the head: I did have an opportunistic streak. You needed one, to succeed in the syndicate. You picked every pocket that came within reach. You bid high on the best spirits. You left your father and ran away with the first charming stranger to fling you a lifeline, all to seize the day.

Nashira Sargas was a certainty – a guarantee of a few months of safety, followed inevitably by death. She was the deal the night Vigiles made.

Arcturus Mesarthim was a gamble that might not pay off. But I was a chancer.

And he was a chance.

The next day, while I should have been asleep, I was thinking of every possible scenario that could unfold when we reached London. This could be my one and only chance to escape before the Bicentenary.

By sunrise, the parlour was cold. I stirred awake when Warden rekindled the fire. After a pause, he went to the linen cabinet and took out a thick blanket, which he used to cover me. After that, he left the Founders Tower.

I slept uneasily. The clock woke me with a small chime at noon, and I sat up, sick to my stomach.

Tonight I might see Nick again. I might see all of them.

I couldn’t let anyone bring them here.

Rain pounded at the windows. I wanted to try to see Liss, but I needed to save my strength. Whatever happened in London, it would be a hard night.

In the bathroom, I splashed my face and fastened my hair at my nape. I dressed in my uniform. Once I was ready, I found Warden’s copy of Frankenstein and took a seat by the fire. I was a slow reader, but it would kill time.

At six in the evening, Warden emerged from his bedchamber. Instead of the monarch look, he was sporting a black overcoat, like a Londoner. They must have a whole team of tailors working for them.

‘It is time.’

I nodded. He locked the door behind us and walked with me down the steps.

‘I never thanked you,’ he said as we entered the cloister. ‘For your silence.’

‘Don’t thank me yet.’ I adjusted my new splint. ‘I could still embarrass you tonight.’

‘Paige.’

Warden stopped, and I did the same. Even in the dark, the light in his eyes was faint enough that you could almost blink and miss it.

Over the weeks, I had realised that their eyes dimmed as they grew hungry. He must have abstained with intent, to help conceal his nature in the citadel.

‘Scion will not allow you to escape,’ he warned me. ‘If an opportunity appears to present itself, I strongly advise you to resist the temptation. In the unlikely event that you do succeed in eluding the authorities, you will never be able to get back to Oxford.’

‘When you escape from somewhere, you don’t generally intend to come back.’

‘Your fellow humans would still be imprisoned here, including Liss.’

‘Don’t you dare use her to pull my heartstrings,’ I hissed. ‘What have you ever done for the performers – for any of them?’

‘I help as many humans as I can without raising suspicions.’

‘You have all this space, and you brought three people in from the cold?’

‘Those in the greatest need,’ Warden said, his voice low. ‘Fazal was almost killed by Castor Sargas, who once ruled Balliol. Gail has a condition that requires frequent medication. I told you about Michael. I have also done my utmost to protect you by downplaying your progress to Nashira.’

He had never been this frank with me. I waited, not wanting to stop him.

‘Magdalen has been my home for two centuries,’ he said. ‘I have tried to make it safe for you – but I cannot bring every human inside, lest it be taken from me. Nashira has already threatened me with that.’

Jaxon would tell me to harden myself. He would throw every amaurotic and performer into the dirt if stepping on them got me back to him.

‘If I stay,’ I said after a moment, ‘none of us will be any less trapped.’

‘Return from this assignment, and I will tell you what I know. I will also tell you the meaning of the symbol you found on my snuffbox.’

‘Every time I think you might be honest, you hold back. You can’t keep dangling this carrot,’ I said under my breath. ‘Do you swear it, Warden?’

‘You have my word. Do I have yours that you will not try to escape?’

‘No,’ I said. ‘You’ll just have to trust me to do what I think is best.’

Warden looked me straight in the eyes. When he strode on, I followed.

Magdalen Walk was deserted. Melting hailstones crunched beneath my boots. When we reached the Residence of the Suzerain, two Rephs escorted us to the oration library, where Nashira waited.

Warden knelt before her. I knelt beside him without being prompted.

At first, I had thought he greeted her like this because she was his sovereign – but none of the other Rephs had to lower themselves. Next, I had assumed they showed affection like this, only to have that dashed when Warden had been so obviously tender with Terebell.

This time, I saw the stiffness of his movements; how he never even tried to lift his gaze. Nashira regarded him as if he were a loyal dog, not her consort. It gave me a hot rush of second-hand humiliation.

Something was off about this relationship.

‘Arcturus,’ Nashira said. ‘I see you have brought our dreamwalker in good time. I am pleased you are both joining this assignment.’ (Like we had a choice.) ‘Situla will report to me on how you work together.’

Situla Mesarthim was almost as tall as Warden. I could see the family resemblance in their features, though her brown hair was long and plaited, her skin a few tones lighter. Like Warden, she was dressed like a Londoner.

‘Cousin,’ she said. Warden gave her a small nod. ‘40, you will treat me as your second keeper this evening. I trust that is understood.’

‘I am certain that 40 will behave herself,’ Nashira said. ‘Rise, both of you.’

Warden stood, looking down a short way at his consort. I got back to my feet.

‘You will be teamed with 30 and 1 on this assignment,’ Nashira said to me. ‘Arcturus will supervise you. Situla will take 18, 12 and 26.’

At first, I thought she meant Julian. A moment later, I realised it must be the 26 from the last Bone Season.

My own counterpart must already be dead. I seemed to be the only 40.

As if David Fitton had been summoned, he emerged from behind a screen. He was dressed exactly like the Overseer on the night of my arrest.

‘Evening, 40,’ he said.

An amaurotic came to my side. ‘This way, please.’

Without looking at David, I followed the woman behind the curtain. David smiled and shook his head, as if I were an amusing child.

The space beyond was a dressing room of sorts. I took off my uniform and donned the one that had been left for me. A fresh undershirt, trousers, then a thicker shirt with long sleeves, made to wick off sweat. Next, the bulletproof armour – a lightweight vest, marked with the red anchor. The final layer was, quite literally, a red jacket.

I pulled on the boots, lacing them tight. I could run, climb and fight in this attire. A small backpack had been provided, which contained a syringe of adrenalin and a medical kit, along with an air rifle and a set of darts.

Flux darts, for hunting voyants.

Once I was kitted out, I emerged from behind the curtain. The human team members had all gathered around a table. Carl beckoned me.

‘Hello, 40.’

‘Carl,’ I said.

He let the name slide. ‘How are you finding your new tunic?’

‘It fits.’

‘I mean, how are you finding being a red-jacket?’

All of them were looking at me now, their faces curious.

‘Fantastic,’ I said, after a pause.

Carl nodded, pleased. ‘It is great. We’re glad to have you with us.’

I raised an eyebrow. Carl must have decided that I was a friend worth making.

‘I’ll reserve judgement,’ 30 said, pulling her thick hair from her collar. She was taller than me, wide in the hips and shoulders. ‘You newcomers have yet to prove yourselves in London. I’ll be keeping a close eye on you both, 1 and 40. You’re to follow my orders to the letter.’

‘Same to you, 12,’ 26 said. ‘Take your lead from me and 18. No heroics.’

David nodded.

30 gave me a penetrating look. From her aura, she was a soothsayer – a less common one, possibly a cleromancer. If she had been part of the syndicate, she must have clawed her way in. I wondered how many voyants she had helped to detain, and if any of them had been syndies.

‘All of you have been issued with an air rifle and flux darts,’ she said. ‘You’re permitted to carry your switchblades for self-defence, but you are not to kill any of our targets. The Suzerain insists they’re kept alive.’

Carl looked crestfallen. ‘We don’t get proper guns?’

‘You don’t. We veterans do,’ 30 said. ‘After your third assignment, you may be entrusted with a firearm, once you’ve received specialist training.’

At least they couldn’t shoot to kill. Even the White Binder would be powerless against a bullet.

‘A Vigile commandant will update us in London,’ 30 said, ‘but the plan is simple. Our teams will launch a surprise attack on Carter and the Seven Seals. We have no intel on the sort of weapons they might have, or how powerful their abilities are, so I say we hit them hard and fast.’

Jaxon and Nick were lethal in spirit combat. Nick could blind his opponents with visions; Jaxon could wield his boundlings against them.

As for physical combat, Nadine was our best. She was a crack shot, and knew how to fight. Danica could be good at close quarters, given her strength.

Zeke and Eliza, however, were not natural fighters. They would be most vulnerable. I hoped Jaxon might leave them at the den, but I knew he wouldn’t. He would be far too eager to show Carter his collection.

‘Vigiles will be stationed nearby, to catch them if they do elude us,’ 30 said, ‘but ideally, we need to contain this confrontation in Trafalgar Square, to avoid causing any unrest in London. We render the targets unconscious and get them straight back to our vehicles.’

Warden had been deep in conversation with Alsafi. Now he came to stand with our group, along with Situla and a blond Reph, clearly a Chertan.

‘This is Tertius. He will join us,’ Warden said. ‘Do finish your briefing, 30.’

Tertius gave me a venomous look. At this point, I must have earned the ire of the whole family. 30 nodded, tucking her hair behind her ear.

‘Two vehicles will take us to London. They should have just got to Magdalen Bridge,’ 30 said. ‘If all goes well, we’ll be back to our residences by dawn.’

‘It must go well,’ Situla said. ‘If it does not, you will all be held accountable.’

‘Come,’ Warden said. ‘Let us not keep the drivers waiting.’

Carl looked as if Novembertide had come early. He almost skipped after Warden. I was about to follow him when Nashira appeared at my side.

‘Suzerain,’ I said, unnerved.

‘I know who you are.’ She spoke quietly enough that only I could hear. ‘If you do not bring back a dreamwalker, I will assume that you are the Pale Dreamer.’

Before I could reply, she walked away. I took a deep breath and followed Warden.

Two black cars had appeared on Folly Bridge, which the performers called the Brig of Dread. The city guards blindfolded us all before they locked us into our respective vehicles. I found myself in the backseat with Carl, in a heated and upholstered seat.

After three months of living in a medieval building, mostly by fire and candlelight, it was strange to be in a car. It drove away from the lost city.

Nashira couldn’t really believe we could apprehend eight voyants and waltz away before dawn. I knew better. I knew Jaxon. This was going to be a brutal clash. I would be fighting on one side and rooting for the other.

Even if I couldn’t escape, I had to get word to him. I had to let him know I was alive.

Not long after we left, the car slowed. I looked around. The guards had tied the blindfold too well for me to get a glimpse around it.

‘This is our first stop, Winterbrook,’ Warden said. ‘You may remove your blindfolds.’

Winterbrook, the support outpost. I wished I could get a look at it, but even without the blindfold, I couldn’t see much in the dark.

A Vigile was at the door. Even though it was past sundown, she was amaurotic. ‘Take off your jackets,’ she said, her voice muffled by a helmet.

Once I had, she grasped my arm and pushed up my sleeve. She injected something under my skin, causing a sharp twinge. Carl kept up a brave face as she did the same to him. The doors were shut and locked.

‘Warden,’ I said, ‘what was that?’

He caught my eye in the mirror. I cradled my arm, watching blood seep from the puncture.

‘Put your blindfolds back on,’ the driver said. ‘Next stop is London.’

I tied mine with clammy hands.

It had to be a tracking device. Warden must have been ordered not to tell me.

Now I had no chance of escape. Danica might be able to fry a tracker, but she wouldn’t have the right tools on her in Trafalgar Square, if she was there at all. I leaned back in my seat, close to despair.

After a while, I nodded off. Despite my best attempts, I had barely slept the day before. I woke with a sense of confusion when the car stopped.

‘We have arrived,’ Warden said.

My heart thumped. ‘Can I take off the blindfold?’

‘Yes.’

I removed it, blinking in the familiar blue glow of London. The car was rolling past Hyde Park, where Eliza and I often went for brisk walks on our breaks in winter, drinking hot mecks and eating roasted chestnuts.

My chest ached. I wanted to get out of this car and run into my citadel. I wanted long and lamplit evenings in the den. I wanted to climb skyscrapers with Nick.

Carl had been jittery for the journey, bouncing his knee and fiddling with his air rifle, but he must have fallen asleep on the motorway, as I had. Before he dozed off, he had let slip that 30 used to be called Amelia. As I had guessed, she was a cleromancer, with a particular gift for dice. It took me a while to remember the exact word: astragalomancer. I was getting rusty.

When Carl stirred, I looked at him. His hair needed a wash, and his nails were bitten to the quick, but there were no bruises. Terebell must be treating him well.

‘You can take the blindfold off,’ I said.

He did, blinking. Seeing me, he hesitated, then leaned towards me.

‘Don’t try to escape.’

He whispered it.

‘They won’t let you go. He won’t.’ He glanced at Warden. ‘Oxford is the best place for us. Why would you want to come back to London?’

‘Because we don’t belong there.’

‘It’s the one place we do belong. We don’t have to hide there, Paige.’

‘You’re not an idiot, Carl. You know it’s a prison.’

‘And this is SciLo,’ he said, his voice hoarse. ‘The Rephs let us live. They give us a chance to prove ourselves. All they give us here is death.’ When I didn’t reply, he scowled. ‘Don’t think I won’t try to stop you running. I won’t let you drag the rest of us down.’

‘No talking,’ the driver interrupted.

Carl slouched back into his seat. I rested my temple against the window, bathed in blue light.

Thirteen years ago, I had thought like Carl. This citadel had been my prison, crushing me in its iron fist. You had to apply for permission to leave. You had to work hard to avoid being caught. You had to fit into the boxes it drew for you: normal, natural, biddable.

It was only when Nick found me again that I had seen its other side. Jaxon had opened the doors to his London – an ancient and unseemly beast, abounding with chaos and secrets, all waiting to be unlocked. Scion had pinned it beneath the anchor, but London could not be contained. Entering the underworld had brought me back to life.

And yet I had seen voyants suffer on these streets. I had seen them cold and hungry, spurned by their own kind. The Unnatural Assembly only rewarded those who were useful, and served without question. The rest were thrown out to rot, like the performers in the Rookery.

London and Oxford – two sides of a coin, darkly mirroring each other.

Carl continued to sulk on my right. I shook myself.

I couldn’t let him get to me. In London, I was mollisher of I-4. I had a name, a purpose, a place. It was worlds away from the cruelty of the Rookery.

Soon we were in Marylebone, where Nick officially lived. I dared not look up as we passed the luxury apartment block on Thayer Street.

Warden gazed at the citadel. No doubt he had been here before. It chilled me that Rephs had been on the streets, and no one had ever noticed.

Except for me, tracking that strange dreamscape in I-4. Even then, the Rephs must have been looking for Jaxon. I couldn’t understand the fixation. To them, he was just one criminal among many.

The driver turned down Bulstrode Street. He was a robust man in wire-framed spectacles and a suit. An earpiece flashed every so often. No doubt Scion paid him well for his silence. It was morbidly fascinating to see its inner workings from this angle. For two centuries, they had guarded the secret, protecting and feeding the forge of the anchor.

In Soho, Warden motioned for the driver to stop on Warwick Street. The man left the car. I sat in tense silence, my heart in my throat. This was my turf. Jaxon owned these streets. Every courier and thief here reported to him. I knew most of them by name.

When the driver returned, he carried a large paper bag. Warden passed it to me. Inside were two hot cartons from Brekkabox, the most popular food chain in the citadel, which served breakfast all day and night.

‘For strength,’ Warden said. ‘You may need it.’

Carl reached straight into the bag and took his share. I opened it again to find a breakfast wrap, a pot of porridge, and a disappointing lack of coffee.

Trafalgar Square was about half a mile away. I took advantage of the stop to probe the æther, my scalp prickling. Thousands of dreamscapes pressed against mine, giving me an immediate headache. I tuned my perception, but it was too hard to focus.

Our car pulled into the courtyard of a building on Suffolk Place, just off Haymarket, namesake of the Underlord. He ruled this part of the citadel personally.

A night Vigile received us with a salute. Warden got out first, opening the door for me and Carl. He was being too courteous towards humans in public.

‘Vigile,’ he said.

‘Warden,’ the Vigile said, with a smart nod. ‘Please accept my regards from the Chief of Vigilance, the Minister for Internal Affairs, and the Grand Inquisitor. Welcome back to London.’ A visor concealed his eyes. ‘Can I confirm you have Carl Dempsey-Brown and Paige Mahoney in your custody?’

‘Confirmed.’

‘Thank you.’

‘I expected the Chief of Vigilance to receive us himself,’ Warden said. ‘Is he unwell?’

‘He was called to an emergency. I hope you’ll forgive his absence, my lord.’

‘Since you appear competent, I may.’

The Vigile turned his visored face towards me. I wondered what had pushed him to turn on his own kind.

‘You two should remember that you are still in custody,’ he said curtly. ‘This assignment is part of your penal servitude, not a night on the town.’

‘Shame,’ I said.

Warden gave me a warning look.

‘If you leave the containment zone,’ the Vigile said, ignoring my comment, ‘your tracking devices will incapacitate you with an electric shock.’

I kept my expression calm. ‘What if our targets leave the zone?’

‘You are to desist. We’ll take it from there.’ He handed me a data pad, which showed a map of the area. ‘I recommend you both memorise it.’

The red circle extended almost to the Westminster Archon in the south, and Leicester Square in the north. Seven Dials lay just outside it. I showed Carl.

‘To avoid causing a public disturbance, all eight targets must be apprehended quickly,’ the Vigile said. ‘You should prioritise Carter, the Pale Dreamer, and the White Binder. Vigiles will be in the vicinity, but they will not interfere unless the containment zone is breached.’ He checked his watch. ‘We have forty minutes until the expected time of arrival. Do not attack until all targets are in Trafalgar Square.’

Carl was looking at the map with obvious worry. He must not know this part of the citadel.

‘Once your task is complete, you will return to this building. From here, you will be driven straight back to the penal colony,’ the Vigile said. ‘If either of you attempts to broadcast its existence or location, you will be shot. If either of you attempts to engage with the public or your targets, you will be shot. If either of you attempts to harm your keeper or a Vigile, you will be shot. Do I make myself clear?’

Well, it seemed reasonably clear that whatever we did, we were going to be shot.

‘We understand,’ I said, when Carl just swallowed.

‘Good.’

The Vigile reached into his utility belt, unpacking a silver tube and a pair of latex gloves. I steeled myself for another injection.

‘You first,’ he said to me. ‘Open your mouth.’

‘What?’

‘Are you having trouble with the Inquisitor’s English?’

He sounded like Evelyn Ancroft. I resisted the urge to make him bleed.

The Vigile stepped towards me and took hold of my chin. I wanted to bite the bastard. He scraped a nib over my lips, coating them in something cold and bitter.

‘Shut it.’

With no other choice, I closed my mouth. When I tried to open it again, I found my lips were sealed. My hand flew to them, my eyes widening.

‘Just a spot of dermal adhesive.’ The Vigile pulled Carl towards him. ‘We’re not taking any chances, seeing as all you syndies know each other.’

‘But I wasn’t—’ Carl started.

‘Shut up.’

Carl was summarily forced to shut up.

‘30 isn’t glued. Look at her for orders,’ the Vigile said. ‘Otherwise, stick to your objectives.’

I pushed my tongue against my lips, but they wouldn’t budge. This Vigile definitely had some grievance with the syndicate.

Warden reached into his coat and presented us with two full masks, stiff and blank. At night, they would go unnoticed by most denizens.

‘Put these on,’ he said. ‘Are you both ready?’

Carl nodded and donned his mask.

Warden sought my gaze. I looked grimly at him before I pressed the mask to my face, feeling it bond with my skin. With my lips sealed, I couldn’t call for help. A tight hood came next, concealing my hair.

Now my only chance of being recognised was for one of the gang to clock my aura. Surely Jaxon would – it was the first thing he noticed about anyone.

He still might not realise who I was. In his mind, I was the only dreamwalker, his peerless jewel. I was also either dead or imprisoned. If he thought he was seeing another one, he might go straight into denial – and even after living with me for three years, there was a small chance he could mistake me for an oracle. He might not believe his own eyes, his own senses. The only way to find out was to get close to him.

Warden put on a mask of his own, making his face even blanker than usual. For the first time, I was glad I was on his side.

Suffolk Place had been deserted, but Haymarket had a few people on it. Tertius met us on the corner of Pall Mall with Amelia and David. Trafalgar Square was now in sight, and we all strode towards it.

‘Situla will approach from the other side with 18 and 26,’ Tertius said. ‘12, 30, take your positions.’

Amelia nodded. ‘Don’t enter Trafalgar Square, 12. It could spook them.’

A bob of his mask was his only reply.

Hector and Jaxon had never agreed on where the line between their territories lay. I had come here many times, to fend off intrusions.

Nelson’s Column rose from between its two fountains. Like other major landmarks across the citadel, it was always lit in either red or green, depending on the security level. It was green now; so were the lights in the water, which rippled and churned.

A voyant brushed past me. Glancing at her, I glimpsed an earpiece. A plainclothes Vigile.

After three months away, in a city with a tiny population, so many dreamscapes were overwhelming. I tried again to pinpoint the others, breaking a cold sweat.

When I sensed her, my heart jolted. Looking as best I could through the eyeholes of the mask, I saw a figure sitting on the steps of the Imperial Gallery.

Scion had no idea she existed. Her birth had never been registered. I was willing to bet that no one here knew she was one of the Seven Seals, either.

Eliza had arrived early. I had a wild thought that I could send a ghost across the square to nudge her, but the Rephs would notice at once. If I used my own spirit, I would collapse on the spot.

‘Carter will arrive soon,’ Warden said, keeping his voice low. ‘We must bide our time. Do not allow yourselves to be captured under any circumstances.’

On the steps, Eliza kept sketching, oblivious.

Get out of here. I wished I was an oracle, so I could send her a vision. Run while you still can …

Now I could detect the others. Five dreamscapes approaching from five directions.

Trafalgar Square was surrounded by seven plinths, each housing a tall statue of an important figure in the history of Scion – three women and four men, including Lord Palmerston. Rifle at the ready, Amelia crouched behind Irène Tourneur, the First Inquisitor of France.

Warden led me and Carl to the foot of the seventh plinth, which always depicted the incumbent Grand Inquisitor. Frank Weaver frowned at the square – every detail cast in iron, down to his side whiskers.

A pair of amaurotics were chatting on the steps of Nelson’s Column. A voyant approached them with a tin, holding it out for money. They waved him off in annoyance and headed towards Charing Cross.

Eliza watched it happen. Jaxon must have sent her to clear the area. After all, Antoinette Carter was taking an enormous risk by coming here.

Warden glanced down at me. ‘Forgive me. I did not know you would be silenced.’

I dismissed his concern with a shake of my head.

‘Remember what I told you.’ His voice was very soft. ‘Remember what is at stake.’

In the distance, Big Ben chimed. Its stately clangs rang out from Whitehall – the unmistakeable music of London. I closed my eyes, listening.

At the first booming strike, Nick arrived on the scene. By the fourth, Eliza had moved to his side. By the sixth, Nadine and Zeke were joining them. In time with the seventh, Jaxon appeared, materialising from the northeast. And last, as the final strike faded, came Danica.

I pressed my back to the plinth, my willpower at breaking point. For almost three months, I had been strong, even if I had also been homesick. Now all I wanted to do was sprint to my strange family.

A hush blanketed Trafalgar Square. Antoinette Carter strode into that silence, coming from the direction of Embankment. She wore a frock cloak, heeled boots, and a brimmed hat. Between her fingers was a cigarette in a silver holder.

When I looked back at Nick, I thought I would burst – into tears, into laughter. Given his day job, he was disguised. I was surprised he had risked coming here at all. A dark wig covered his hair, and he wore tinted glasses. A few feet away, Jaxon was tapping his cane.

I had missed them all so much. It hurt like a kick to the stomach, to be so close and still unseen.

Eliza took a few steps towards Carter. Danica stuck to her side, her stance defensive. A scarf and bowler concealed most of her face.

There was no way she wanted to be here. Jaxon really was keen to impress.

Carter stopped by one of the fountains. I could hardly believe I was seeing her in the flesh. She hadn’t brought anyone else to the meeting.

Eliza made a small gesture – three fingertips to her forehead. It was the sign of the third eye, easy for voyants to decipher. When Carter returned it, Jaxon walked towards her, a welcoming smile on his lips. With a smile of her own, Carter grasped his gloved hand in both of hers.

Situla Mesarthim struck first. She had been hiding behind one of the great bronze lions in the square. Almost faster than I could register, she ran at Carter. Warden made towards Zeke, just as Carl sent a nearby spirit hurtling towards Eliza. She crumpled as it struck her dreamscape. As an art medium, muses loved her best, but any spirit could possess her.

Amelia seized her chance. She lunged out and aimed her air rifle at Eliza, only to be tackled by an enraged Nick. David took Jaxon – or tried to take Jaxon, in any case (a bold move); Danica lamped him straight away, knocking a spurt of blood from his mouth. Tertius bore down on Nadine, who looked as if she had just seen a corpse rise from the grave. 18 and 26 closed in from the other side of the square.

Danica started trading blows with David, leaving Jaxon as the only one without an opponent to fight. I stepped out from behind the plinth.

Jaxon saw me at once, another masked enemy. He fused six ghosts into a spool and hurled it towards me; I deflected it and sent a flux dart at him, aiming above his head. Jaxon ducked it. Several of his boundlings came soaring from nearby, ready to defend their master.

This was it. I ran straight at him.

Jaxon was livid. Anyone else might have mistaken his pallor and wide eyes for evidence of terror, but I knew otherwise. We had spoiled his plans – plans he had laid for a very long time. Teeth bared, he swept towards me, wielding his cane. It was a weapon in disguise, heavy enough that it doubled up as a bludgeon. He could also pull a blade from inside. I had seen him use it many times, to shed blood and smash bone.

I had always been grateful that I was not the one on the receiving end.

He swung the cane at me. I rolled to avoid it. No sooner was I back on my feet than his fist clipped my cheekbone. If not for the mask, his silver knuckledusters would have broken it. Next, he drove them into my ribs, but my body armour took most of the force. I let him slug me again and again, barely even pretending to fight back. I needed him not just to see my aura, but to sense it, remember it.

When he stepped back, his gaze was hot with bloodlust. He wasn’t concentrating on the æther – not yet. Even a red aura couldn’t avert his fury. The cane whipped across my shin, and I stumbled, in agony. Its pommel caught my shoulder, my unprotected hip. I realised he might kill me before he recognised me.

The cane barely missed the top of my head. That terrible pulling sensation came, like seams ripping apart, and I hit out at him with my spirit. Now it was Jaxon who fell, floored by the thump against his dreamscape. I clawed myself upright, my cheek pounding, ribs aching. I gripped my knees, hauling air through my nose, unable to gasp.

If I did get away from the Rephs, Jaxon was going to be quite annoyed about this.

A screech caught my attention. Nadine had got away from Tertius and pinned Amelia to the fountain. Nick had taken over. He fired a revolver at Tertius. I watched, my head swimming. Tertius barely looked fazed.

Warden hadn’t been lying. Our weapons couldn’t hurt them.

Nick fired again. It took a moment to realise it was my revolver – the one I had left in the den, that night in March. The gun I carried on syndicate business.

He had kept a small piece of me with him.

Swallowing, I looked around for Warden. He was stalking after Zeke, who was doing his level best to dissuade him, making spool after spool.

I clenched my fist. Even if my gang wasn’t outnumbered, they were out of their depth. Each Reph had the strength of multiple humans – and the resilience of a tank, apparently. I had to help them even the odds.

My broken wrist was throbbing. I pulled out the syringe of adrenalin and slammed the needle into my thigh. After a few moments, all the pain – old and new – dulled to a distant ache. My vision wouldn’t settle, but it wasn’t incapacitating.

Amelia kicked Nadine back, aiming her rifle. Before I quite knew what I was doing, I aimed mine. The dart hit Amelia in the back. She dropped like a stone.

Nadine whirled around. She hadn’t seen me shoot, but now she did see me – not her mollisher, but a masked figure with a dart gun, an agent of the anchor. Without hesitation, she drew her pistol and pointed it.

The best shot in the gang. She would kill me without question, and with ease. Before she could fire, I sprinted across the square and tackled her, taking her down by the waist, straight into the fountain. The water turned luminous red as the security level changed.

Nadine surfaced just after me, hair plastered to her face. I waded back, the water swashing to my knees.

‘Take that mask off, coward,’ she shouted at me. ‘Who the fuck are you?’

I kept my flux gun trained on her, shaking my head. Nadine opened her coat and chose a knife. She had always preferred steel to spirits.

Time seemed to slow. I felt my heartbeat everywhere, right down to my fingertips. Nadine was almost as good with a knife as she was with a gun, and my body armour would only provide so much protection. It left my limbs and throat exposed. In water, I would be slower.

Nadine knew this, and smiled.

She threw the first blade. I lurched away, and it glanced off my mask. Before I could even draw a breath, a longer knife was in her grasp. If she managed to hit the right point on my thigh, I would bleed out.

David chose that moment to appear. Just as Nadine was about to let fly, he put a dart between her shoulders. Her face slackened. She tottered back, swayed, and fell against the edge of the fountain with a splash.

I called her name, but all I could make was a muffled sound, trapped behind my lips. David pulled her halfway out of the water and took her head between his hands. Just as Nashira had done to Seb.

In the heat of the moment, David must have forgotten his orders. He was about to kill Nadine.

I didn’t even pause to think. For the second time, I projected my spirit.

I struck the wall of his dreamscape.

And suddenly, I passed through it.

As soon as I was in there, I kept going. Not stopping to see my surroundings, I reached his sunlit zone and shoved his spirit aside. Now I was seeing through his eyes, feeling the solid hammer of his heart. I forced him to release Nadine. I watched myself slip underwater.

The sight tightened my silver cord. It flung me back into my own dreamscape, my own body. Now I was thrashing out of the water, my nose burning, soaked to my skin. Barely able to see, I ran towards David and threw myself at him. We both went crashing to the ground.

My vision turned black for a moment. I lay stunned, my lips trembling as I tried to pull a deep breath in. I had just possessed a human.

I had done what Nashira wanted of me.

Tertius had seen; so had Situla. The eyeholes of both their masks were aglow.

Beside me, David clutched his head, a wordless groan in his throat. I used the fountain to drag myself up, blinking away droplets, my clothes heavy.

Nadine was still fighting the flux. Dazed, she made it to the other side of the fountain and rolled herself out. Zeke was there to catch her. A dart protruded from his side, but he was immune to phantasmagoria.

Not so for his sister. Nadine had only held out for this long because her survival instinct had kicked in. He had to get her out of here.

Carl was circling Antoinette Carter, trying to get a dart in her. Somehow, she was holding her own against Situla, keeping her at bay with spools.

My head was about to erupt. It had been worth it. I did a sweep of Trafalgar Square, assessing the situation. David and all three Bone Season veterans were down, while my gang had only lost Nadine.

Now they had a fighting chance.

‘Fury,’ Zeke shouted, his voice cracking. ‘Get Bell out of here, now!’

Danica was bruised and bloody, but she had always been strongest. She got Nadine over her shoulders and huffed away from the square.

Nick floored Carl with a spool. He was running after Danica when Warden blocked his path. I thought my heart would stop as they squared up to each other – my keeper, pitted against my best friend. A collision of different sides of my life. I started towards them, even as I felt the æther ripple. Nick was about to send a volley of visions.

Before I could get to them, Eliza attacked me.

Spirits flew at me from every direction. Given a choice, they usually sided with mediums. Three of them slammed into my dreamscape. I stumbled, blinded by visions of their memories: towering waves, the blast of muskets, fires raging on the deck of a ship – screaming, chaos – then Eliza gave me a shove, and I fell. I thrust up all my mental defences, while Eliza tried to hold me down.

‘Keep at it, all of you,’ she urged the spirits. ‘You have to buy us time!’

My dreamscape was flooding. Cannonballs ripped through it, and burning wood fell past my eyes. With a huge effort, I forced out the spirits and gripped Eliza by the arm. I squeezed it hard, willing her to understand.

Eliza was drenched in sweat. She must be terrified, to have forced herself to fight that hard – too afraid to distinguish that press of her arm from another cruel hand, or to pay closer attention to my aura. I pushed her away from me and scrambled back, cutting my hand wildly across my throat. I saw her hesitate – just for a moment – before she went for her gun, a pocket revolver.

This was a lost cause. If I were her, I knew I wouldn’t stop. I would shoot.

I knew, because I had not stopped to listen to the Overseer.

Warden noticed my predicament. Almost in a single motion, he wove together an intricate spool and sent it flying towards Eliza. It entangled her senses as well as a net. She dropped the gun and buckled.

‘Muse,’ Nick bellowed.

Warden was still in his way. Now so were Tertius and Situla. He looked between them, his wig awry, my revolver in hand. Hot tears of denial sprang to my eyes. His name burned in my throat. I wanted him to run. Even with his visions, he couldn’t fight all three of them.

Nick Nygård stood his ground. I had to help him fight the Rephs.

Just as I rose, I felt the blow coming. I turned just in time to block a bloody cane with my rifle, the jarring force almost disarming me.

‘A dreamwalker in uniform,’ Jaxon said softly. ‘Where did Scion find you?’

My arms were shaking. For a man who rarely left his own home, Jaxon was strong.

‘Perhaps you were hidden away in the suburbs. Or in another citadel.’ He leaned in close to me, staring into the eyeholes of the mask. ‘You can’t possibly be my dreamwalker. She is dead. If not, I would already have found her. I have scoured every prison, every dark corner and cesspit of this citadel.’ The cane strained closer. ‘So who are you?’

Heat pricked my eyes again. He really had looked for me.

Before I could do anything, Jaxon was thrown back by another massive spool, larger than any a human could make. It made him lose his footing. His boundlings retaliated in a fury, shooting towards Warden.

Jaxon lashed out blindly. Instinct jerked my head to the left, and the cane scraped across one side of my mask. I raised my gun, just to ward him off, but a second blow knocked it clean out of my hand.

Danica had installed a blade for him. He could either draw it out fully, or expose the end, like a bayonet on an old musket. The sharp tip flashed across my right arm, cutting through my jacket, deep into flesh.

‘Come, dreamwalker, use your spirit!’ Jaxon pointed the blade at me, laughing in delight. ‘Let go of the pain and fly. Use it to propel yourself.’

Even now, his work came first. I backed away from him, grasping my arm with my bad hand. Already my fingers were covered in blood.

A crowd of amaurotics were on the edge of Trafalgar Square, some of them on their phones. The Vigiles were stopping them from getting any closer.

‘Ah, the general public,’ Jaxon observed. ‘Just as I was enjoying myself.’

Carter ran to join Nick. Her hat was gone, exposing her cascade of dyed crimson hair. Her face was pinched and gaunt, but I remembered it. In desperation, I grabbed Jaxon by the cheeks and shook him as hard as I could. Jaxon stared at me as I tried to say his name.

Antoinette Carter distracted us both.

One moment, she was standing by Nick. The next, the æther drew itself around her, like cloth gathered into a hand. Her eyes rolled back. Even from here, I could feel the change in her aura, an ember blown into a flame. It mocked the blue streetlights of the citadel, the ones designed to soothe the troubled mind. With no hesitation, she physically attacked all three Rephs, hitting them with her fists and boots.

When I had charged at Warden, I had come off worse. Carter was forcing them back. Ten spirits swooped at Situla, not letting her get a hit in edgeways.

‘Binder,’ Nick bellowed. ‘Let’s go!’

Jaxon looked at me, and I looked at him. I tightened my grip on his face.

‘It’s not possible,’ he breathed.

Carter spun into a kick that sent Tertius straight into the column. I stared. Situla landed a blow, but it rolled off Carter like water from steel.

And then, with no warning, she took off. Warden swept his gaze across the square, seeing that most of his soldiers were down. Only I was left.

‘Stop her,’ he called.

The Vigiles were approaching the square. I had to divide their forces and lead the chase away from Jaxon and Nick, so they could get to Eliza.

I let go of Jaxon and sprinted after Carter.

A Vigile let me go past when he saw my uniform. Carter was heading down Whitehall, straight for the Westminster Archon. She was off the cot to go in that direction, but I didn’t care. That was the very edge of the containment zone. I needed to keep forcing her there, so she would no longer be my responsibility. She could get away.

Carter had noticed me. I was fast, but she forged ahead. Her battle trance seemed to have fuelled her pace. Situla overtook me, then Tertius. I tried to keep their auras in range as I wove between people and cars.

Whitehall was always busy, even in the small hours. Some way in front of me, a white taxi braked in front of Carter as she crossed the street. She and Situla split around it. I took the straightest course, running up the front of the car and on to the roof, sliding down the other side.

Carter went through a crowd of pedestrians, all waiting for a night bus. Seconds behind her, Situla sliced through the human obstacles. They screamed; I felt one of them die. This would leave quite a mess for the Vigiles.

My legs pumped. If I let up for a moment, Carter and Situla would be out of range. I shed my jacket, then my armour, dropping as much weight as I could. Just when I thought my lungs would burst, we reached the very end of Whitehall.

Westminster. We avoided this area like the plague, so heavy was its contingent of Vigiles. I looked with utter loathing at the Archon, the heart and seat of the Republic of Scion. Had I been in a less life-threatening situation, I would have liked to leave some choice graffiti on those walls.

This was where the puppets danced. Only Haymarket Hector would dare to live so close to it, for the Underlord was the shadow of the Grand Inquisitor. One ruled the surface, and one ruled the underworld.

Situla was only just ahead of me now. When she reached Westminster Bridge, Antoinette Carter turned to face her pursuers. Her skin looked stretched across her bones, like a thin layer of white paint.

‘No farther.’ Tertius drew a blade. ‘Surrender, Antoinette Carter.’

‘Do you know what I am, creature?’

The æther quaked.

‘I am the voice that heralds the ages,’ Carter told him. ‘My sisters were the bestowers of truth in ancient times. I warn you not to hinder me.’

Her lips were now as dark as mine, as if her words had stained them.

‘Use your spirit, 40,’ Situla ordered me.

I stepped forward. Behind me, I could hear sirens and distant cries.

Carter watched me. ‘Do I know you?’

She spoke with a richer accent than mine. I wanted to tell her that she didn’t know me, but I knew her. That we had both cheated death in Dublin.

Situla lost her patience and sent a flux dart at Carter. It shattered before it could touch her. I tensed as a spirit appeared in front of her, spreading its protection wide, like wings.

A breacher. I concentrated on the æther, trying to identify it. It was something like a guardian angel, but older. This had to be an archangel – a breacher that remained with one bloodline for generations. They weakened over the years, but remained notoriously difficult to banish.

Carter stood her ground. This might be the most powerful voyant I had ever seen. A devastating gift and an archangel at her command. I had never imagined that a human could give the Rephs this much trouble.

Situla reached for the nearest spirits, lacing them all together. When Jaxon had first taught me about spooling, he had compared a spool to a rat king – a knot of rodents, entangled by their own tails, stuck together with hair or sap. The more rats in the king, the harder it was to separate them without killing them. And the more spirits in a spool, the harder it often was to deflect.

The Rephs could make spools more intricate than any I had ever seen. Beside me, Situla bound hers as if with mortar, just as Warden had.

Before she could finish the spool, Carter cut her arm towards us, and the archangel rushed forward. Situla flung me in front of her.

A breacher was incorporeal, but it could affect the physical world. I had the sensation of being lifted off the ground by nothing, as if I had taken flight. The archangel launched me towards the Westminster Archon.

The electric shock came at once, searing like white heat under my skin. Screaming inside, I crawled back towards the zone, racked by spasms. My whole body was cold as ice, almost frozen by contact with the breacher. I managed to get back to my feet, my breath coming in clouds.

And then something else collided with me, grabbing me hard before I could fall.

When I saw Nick, I thought I was hallucinating. I stared up at my best friend – still disguised, so close I would have felt his breath on my face, if not for the mask.

Disbelief rooted me to the spot, turning into joy. I was tired, and the line was so close, yet so far away – but Nick was here. He had come for me.

He pulled me across the street. There were columns there, creating a small colonnade that led into the Underground. Thanks to whatever was now happening on Westminster Bridge, distracting both denizens and Vigiles, this colonnade was deserted. All the strength drained from my bones as Nick deposited me on the ground behind a column. His face was ashen, dark circles under his eyes.

He was going to be caught. I tried to tell him to run, to get away from me.

At least he had thrust me back into the containment zone. The pain from the tracker stopped, but another pain now grew in my body. A sticky warmth bloomed under my ribs. I had the distant thought that I probably shouldn’t have dropped my armour.

I never did say I was sensible.

‘Traitor,’ Nick said in a cold voice, the one he used on rival gangs. ‘I don’t know how you found us, but you failed tonight. We are the Seven Seals, and Scion will not take one more of us. Do you hear me?’

My lips strained against their binding.

He needed to run. The Vigiles would only be distracted for a sliver of time. Soon they would come to collect me, following the tracker.

‘The White Binder will not be accosted in his own citadel,’ Nick said. ‘Let this serve as your reminder never to cross him again, if you live.’

That was when I understood.

Nick had stabbed me.

Of course. All this was still a sort of syndicate business. I had brazenly attacked the White Binder, the mime-lord closest to Trafalgar Square. Such an insult could not go unanswered, even by an agent of Scion.

Nick let me go, leaving the blade where it was. He was going to abandon me. With the last strength I could summon, I nudged his dreamscape.

He stiffened at once. I watched the slow realisation on his face, a flicker of hope, and then denial. His fingertips hooked under the chin of the mask. It took some force to break the seal, to peel it off my face.

When he saw me, he dropped it, gathering me straight to his chest.

‘Paige—’

At once, he tried to staunch the bleeding, laying pressure on either side of the blade. Always a medic, even when he was a criminal. I reached for his arm, trying to hold on tight enough for him to know I was happy to see him.

Nick stared at me in absolute shock, tears lining his eyes. ‘Paige, I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’

I nodded, understanding.

‘We looked for you for weeks. Eliza searched half the North Bank, but—’ His words shook. ‘We thought they must have killed you. Jaxon almost gave up.’ He was turning white. ‘Paige, what have they done to you?’

The wound didn’t hurt too much. Perhaps the chill had numbed me through.

‘Sweetheart, look at me.’ Nick grasped my cheek. ‘Look at me, Paige!’

I was finding it difficult to look at anything. My eyelids were so heavy. At least I would die in London, with him. Better Nick than Nashira.

He stroked a curl from my brow, shaking his head. Looking at him, I wanted him to carry me to safety again, like he had once before, when I was cold and scared.

I wanted so badly to let him take me back to Seven Dials.

‘Paige, don’t you dare close your eyes,’ Nick said. ‘I’m getting you home. Do you hear me?’

All I could do was make the tiniest sound in my throat. A tear seeped into my hair.

There was no way I could tell him, not without my voice. I tried to draw his attention to my arm, where the tracker had been injected – surely he would understand – but he was too distracted by my other injury. Even with the knife in place, blood was leaking from my side.

Nick hated Scion. That was why he had been willing to stab me, beyond his loyalty to Jaxon. He had to know the truth, or no one out here ever would. I couldn’t slip away without telling him about the lost city. I had to give the performers a chance. I had to do this one thing for Liss.

My fingers were smeared with blood. I touched my damp side, then reached for the wall and traced the first three letters of its old name.

‘Oxford,’ Nick breathed. ‘They took you to Oxford?’

I let my hand fall.

‘It’s okay, Paige.’ He started to lift me into his arms. ‘I’m going to patch you up. I’ll fix this.’

A deep exhaustion was setting in, but I still tried to give him the warning. My fingers scratched at his back, and I kept up my faint, desperate sounds.

Nick was too afraid to hear. He turned west towards Canon Row, stopping dead before he could leave the colonnade. Gathering me to his chest with one arm, he pulled a pistol from his jacket and pointed it at something in front of him. A silhouette in the shape of a man.

‘There is a tracking device in her arm,’ a quiet voice said. ‘Scion is watching. If you take her back to Seven Dials, you will doom them all, Red Vision.’

‘How do you know me?’

‘There is no time to explain. The Vigiles will spare no pains to pursue you, but their priority is to detain Antoinette Carter. You are likely to avoid them if you leave now and make with all haste for Vauxhall.’

‘No.’ Nick had backed into a wall. ‘Paige—’

‘Give her to me, and I will see to it that she lives.’

Nick held me tighter, his breathing rough, a tight sob escaping him. I pressed my bloody hand to his chest, so I could feel his pounding heart. My hearing and vision were fading. I didn’t have long.

I don’t know exactly how long it took Nick Nygård to make his decision. Take me back to Seven Dials, risking the others’ lives, or hand me over to a stranger from Scion.

‘I’ll find you,’ Nick whispered. ‘Just live.’

He squeezed my elbow and pressed a firm kiss to my forehead, and then he was gone. I was enfolded by new arms, lifted towards eyes like candles.

‘I have you, Paige,’ Warden said softly.

That was the last thing I heard.