Dance upon Nothing

DANCE UPON NOTHING

14 December 2058

We gathered in a circle, like we might in a séance – five of the mighty Seven Seals. Jaxon Hall had dreamed us to this place, and here we stood.

From our name, an outsider might think that each of us came from one of his seven orders, but Jaxon still had no great love for soothsayers or augurs, whatever his publisher had forced him to say. He just happened to like the number, given the name of our district.

Seven voyants from five orders, blown from six countries to blossom in London.

Nadine Arnett was about to either weep or kill someone. Her arms were wrapped around her brother, whose wrists were tied with velvet sashes to the chair she stood behind. His face was drenched in sweat, hair stuck to his brow.

Jaxon was perplexed by Zeke, and Jaxon did not like to be perplexed. A short challenge, yes, to be unpicked with cleverness – but more than a year of mystery had chipped away at his patience. So he sat in his chair, smoking a cigar, waiting for one of us to break Zeke.

We had been put to work at dusk. Now the sky was dark. No matter how much Zeke pleaded for us to stop trying, Jaxon would not relent. If unreadability could be mastered, it would be a tremendous asset to the gang – the ability to resist all external influence from the æther. It would make us invincible in spirit combat. All we had to do was learn how to mimic it without losing our gifts.

Zeke already had. Once, he been a whisperer – like Nadine, and like their mother, Ayuko. When Zeke played his piano in Oaxaca de Juárez, every nearby spirit had flocked to him. Since his dreamscape had collapsed and regrown, he had lost that gift, changing his aura. Now he could sense the dead, but could no longer make them dance.

I had no idea why he had become unreadable. Only Jaxon knew that.

While Jaxon obsessed over Zeke, the rest of us had been forgotten, me included. Jaxon tended to pick a flavour of the year, and I was off the menu. I had shown no progress in months, and he was giving me the cold shoulder for it.

At last, my shine was rubbing off.

Zeke sobbed in agony. After so much pondering, even Jaxon had failed to predict that he would be in this much pain. We had flung spool after spool at him, to no avail. His mind sent them ricocheting all over the room, like water off a marble slab, hard as his syndicate name – Black Diamond.

‘Come on, come on, you wretched rabble,’ Jaxon shouted. His fist pounded the desk. ‘I want to hear him scream three times as loudly as that!’

All day, he had been drinking wine and listening to ‘Danse Macabre’ – never a good sign. Eliza gave him an exasperated look.

‘Jaxon,’ she said. ‘I need you to take several deep breaths, then some laudanum. Did you wake up on the wrong side of the chaise longue today?’

‘Again.’

She looked away, grasping her own arms. This was the first time I had ever seen her confront Jaxon.

‘Again,’ Jaxon said.

‘He’s in pain,’ Nadine said hotly. ‘Jax, look at him. He can’t take this!’

‘I am in pain, Nadine. Agonised by your lack of ambition,’ came the soft reply. ‘Don’t make me get up. Do it again, and do not stop until he breaks.’

‘Jaxon, I can’t watch this,’ Nick said. ‘I’m an oracle, but I’m also a medic, and—’

‘If you so enjoy your sterile life, kindly return to it for good,’ Jaxon said icily. ‘Perhaps I am tired of your moonlighting, Dr Nygård. Scion takes the bulk of your time, while I receive scraps of it.’

‘Stop it. You can snap at the others, but you don’t scare me, Jax. I’ve known you too long.’

‘Far too long,’ Jaxon said pettily.

Nadine held on to Zeke, her hair tumbling over her brow. It was dark brown now, and shorter. It attracted less interest without the dye, but she hated the change, like she hated the citadel. Most of all, she hated us.

When Jaxon looked expectant, Eliza called one of her spirit aides: John Donne, a famous muse, won at auction for the same cost as one of her forgeries. Since he was a writer, not an artist, he was usually good enough not to possess her at random.

‘Let me try John,’ she said reluctantly. ‘If an Elizabethan spirit doesn’t work, I don’t think anything will.’

‘The obvious answer would be a poltergeist,’ Jaxon said, perfectly serious.

‘Jaxon,’ I whispered.

‘We are not,’ Nadine gritted out, ‘using a fucking poltergeist on my brother.’

‘I will make that decision, Nadine.’

‘You’ll have to come through me.’

‘I am quivering with terror.’ Jaxon carried on smoking. ‘Have it your way first, Eliza.’

Zeke couldn’t take the suspense. His fevered eyes were on the spirit.

‘He needs rest,’ Nadine said to Eliza. ‘You set that muse on him and I’ll—’

‘You’ll what, play me an angry tune?’ Jaxon said, smoke curling from his mouth. ‘Please, be my guest. I do enjoy music from the soul.’

Her chin puckered, but she knew the punishment for disobeying Jaxon. She had nowhere else to go, nowhere else to take her brother. Zeke shivered against her, as if he were the younger sibling, not the older.

Eliza glanced at Nadine, then at Jaxon. On her silent command, John whipped forward. I didn’t see the impact, but I felt it – and from his cry of distress, so did Zeke. His head slammed back against Nadine, his neck cording. Nadine tightened her arms around his shoulders.

‘I’m sorry.’ She dropped her chin on his head, eyes shut. ‘I’m so sorry, Zeke.’

Old and determined, John was naturally obstinate. He thought Zeke was going to hurt Eliza, and fully intended to stop that from happening. Zeke’s face shone with sweat and tears. He was almost choking.

‘Please,’ he said. ‘No more—’

‘Jaxon, stop it,’ I snapped. ‘Don’t you think he’s had enough?’

His eyebrows leapt for his hairline. ‘Are you questioning me, darling?’

My courage faded. ‘No.’

‘Oh, the mouse squeaks at last,’ Nadine said bitterly. ‘You’re pathetic, Paige. Always the last to object when he acts like a fucking—’

‘Paige is your mollisher,’ Jaxon reminded her sharply. ‘As such, she is an extension of me. Not only that, but she is a dreamwalker. What are you?’

‘I don’t care about your fake categories!’

‘You should, since I am your only protector,’ Jaxon barked. ‘The man who keeps you from starving like the wretched buskers.’ He chucked a wad of money into the air, sending notes fluttering across the carpet. ‘Ezekiel has only had enough when I say so – when I care to release him for the day. Do you think Hector or the Wicked Lady would ever show the generosity I have to a common whisperer, of all things?’

‘We don’t work for them,’ Eliza said firmly. ‘Come back, John. I’m safe.’

John slunk away, placated. Zeke shuddered.

‘I’m okay,’ he managed. ‘I’m fine. I just need a minute.’

‘You are not okay.’ Nadine rounded on Jaxon. ‘You preyed on us. We told you about what happened to Zeke and you promised you would make it better. You said you would fix him, not make him worse!’

‘I said I would try.’ Jaxon was unmoved. ‘Am I not trying now?’

‘We left our lives for this. For the chance you were offering,’ Nadine exploded. ‘I was an idiot to believe you. You’re a liar. You’re a con man.’

‘Nadine,’ Eliza warned.

‘If I am so villainous, by all means, leave my home,’ Jaxon said. ‘The door is always there, Nadine.’ His voice dropped a few notes. ‘The door to the cold, dark streets of London. No one else in the syndicate would shelter you.’ He blew a grey plume in her direction. ‘I wonder how long it would take for the Vigiles to … smoke you out?’

Nadine shook with anger, a tiny flicker of dread on her face. ‘I’m going to Chat’s,’ she said, snatching her jacket. ‘No one is welcome to join me.’

She grabbed her headphones and purse before she stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

‘Dee,’ Zeke called, but she didn’t return. I heard her kick something on her way down the stairs. Pieter came shooting through the wall, furious at being disturbed, and went to sulk in the corner with John.

‘Jaxon, that really is enough,’ Eliza said, shaken. ‘We can try again next week.’

‘Wait.’ Jaxon pointed a long finger at me. ‘We haven’t tried our secret weapon yet.’ When I frowned, he gave me a winning smile. ‘Oh, come now, Paige – don’t play the fool. Break into his dreamscape for me.’

The temptation to do as he asked was immediate. It had been weeks since Jaxon had smiled at me like that, as if I were his pride and joy.

‘We’ve discussed this,’ I said, standing my ground. ‘I don’t do break-ins.’

‘You don’t do them. I see. I didn’t realise you had a job description. Oh!’ Jaxon snapped his fingers. ‘Now I remember – I didn’t give you one.’

‘Jaxon—’

‘We are clairvoyants, unnaturals, lords of misrule. Did you think we were going to be like Daddy, sitting in our little offices from nine to five, sipping tea from our little Scion-made cups?’ All of a sudden he looked disgusted, as if he couldn’t abide how amaurotic people could be. ‘Some of us defy Scion, Paige. Some of us want silver and satin and sordid streets and spirits.’

All I could do was stare at him. He took a huge gulp of wine, his eyes fixed on the window.

‘This is getting ridiculous.’ Eliza stood akimbo. ‘Maybe we should just—’

‘Who pays you?’

She sighed. ‘You do, Jaxon.’

‘Correct. I pay, you obey. Now, run upstairs and get Danica for me. I want her to see the marvels unfold.’

With her lips pursed tight, Eliza went upstairs. Zeke shot me a look of exhausted desperation. Over the past year, we had become good friends. I liked him. For his sake, I forced myself to speak up again.

‘Jax,’ I said, ‘I’m really not up to it right now. I was tailing the Threadbare Company for—’

‘You have two hours off tomorrow, honeybee. You can use it to catch up on sleep.’

‘You know I can’t break into dreamscapes.’

‘I am painfully aware.’ Jaxon poured himself some more wine. ‘Go on. Try to impress me, as you once did.’ My cheeks warmed. ‘I’ve been waiting for this for years, Paige – a dreamwalker pitted against an unreadable, the ultimate ethereal confrontation. Never could I conceive of a more consequential or chaotic encounter.’

‘Are you still speaking English?’

‘No,’ Nick said quietly. Every head turned towards him. ‘He’s speaking like a madman.’

After a short silence, Jaxon raised his glass. ‘An excellent diagnosis, Doctor. Cheers.’

Nick ground his jaw.

In the strained aftermath of that moment, Eliza returned with a syringe of adrenalin. With her was Danica Panić – the final member of our septet. She had grown up in the Scion Citadel of Belgrade, but transferred to London to work as an engineer. Nick had been the one to headhunt her, having spied her aura at a welcome event for new recruits from elsewhere in Scion. Fortunate that Nick had noticed her before a Vigile.

‘Come and see, my Chained Fury,’ Jaxon purred. ‘It will be quite extraordinary.’

Danica stood next to the spirits and folded her broad arms, which were pitted with scars and burns. She was solid as a brick, with crimped reddish hair, worn in a low bun. Her only soft spot was for waistcoats. When Pieter gave her a tentative nudge, she batted him away.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘What am I looking at?’

‘My weapon.’

Her eyebrow went up. She had only been with us for a few months, but she already knew what Jaxon was like.

‘Looks like you’re having a séance,’ she observed.

‘Not today.’ Jaxon waved a hand. ‘Begin.’

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself telling him where to stick it. He always buttered up the newcomers. Danica had a spiky aura that he hadn’t been able to identify – but as usual, he was convinced she would be something valuable. No doubt she would be his next target.

Taking a deep breath, I sat down. Nick stood ready with the adrenalin.

‘Do it,’ Jaxon said softly. ‘Read the unreadable.’

‘I don’t know what you want me to do, Jax.’

‘Whatever you can.’

Zeke braced himself. I couldn’t invade his dreamscape, but its armour was so sensitive, even a nudge could hurt. I would have to be careful.

I shifted my spirit. As I tuned in to the æther, I registered all five of their dreamscapes, tinkling and shivering like wind chimes. Zeke’s rang on a darker note, a minor chord. I prepared myself to exert the lightest pressure I could.

I jolted back to myself when a hand grasped my shoulder.

‘No.’ Nick was behind me. ‘She’s not doing this, Jaxon. Unlike the others, I don’t need your money. I’ll take mine elsewhere if you don’t ease up on Zeke.’

Jaxon watched us, his eyes shooting darts of annoyance. I hovered. Nick grabbed both of our coats, put his on, and shoved the window open.

‘Come on, Paige,’ he said. ‘You’re taking a break. I’ll check on you later, Zeke.’

‘Okay,’ Zeke rasped.

I was tired to my bones, but I would never refuse Nick. Zeke sighed in relief and slumped in his chair as I donned my coat and left.

Jaxon would be fine by tomorrow, once he had slept off the hangover. I climbed out of the window and on to the drainpipe, my vision blurred.

Nick was already on the roof. As soon as I reached it, he started to run, fast and hard. I followed him.

At least once a week, Nick and I would take a dérive (as Jaxon dubbed it) in the citadel. I had once hated London in winter – it was grey and stern, ruthlessly cold – but after two years of training with Nick, learning how to navigate the rooftops, the heart of Scion had become my haven. I could race like blood along its streets. I could leap over traffic, fly above the unsuspecting Vigiles. On nights like these, I was full to the brim, bursting with life.

Up here, if nowhere else, I was free.

Nick eventually dropped to the pavement. We walked along the busy road until we reached the corner of Cranbourn Street, where he assessed a grand building – a popular spot for voyants, the Old Hippodrome.

‘Nick,’ I said, ‘what are you doing?’

‘I need to clear my head.’

‘In a gambling house?’

‘On top of it.’ He rubbed chalk between his hands, then tossed the pouch to me. ‘Come on, sötnos. You look like you’re about to fall asleep.’

‘Yes, well, I didn’t know I was giving my spirit and my muscles a thrashing today.’ I let him boost me to the first ledge, earning a puzzled look from a soothsayer with a cigarette. ‘Why here?’

‘I found something.’

We reached the top without incident. Nick had been climbing buildings since he was young; he found footholds where none seemed to exist. Soon my boots fell on artificial grass. On my left was a small fountain – no water – and on my right, a bed of shrivelled flowers, killed by the cold.

‘What is this place?’

‘Just a roof garden,’ Nick said. ‘I thought we could make it our new bolthole. Perfect view of Leicester Square.’ He sat on the parapet. ‘Sorry to snatch you like that. It was getting … claustrophobic in there.’

‘Just a little.’

I sat beside him. We looked down at the square, its blue streetlamps.

‘I don’t know why he’s like this.’ Nick shook his head. ‘Jaxon is the most charming person I’ve ever met. He is the sun, and all of us lean towards him, like flowers hungering for his light … but there is a darkness and cruelty in him that I have never understood. He did have a tough childhood, but it’s no excuse. You suffered worse in Dublin.’

‘You didn’t have it easy, either.’ The wind ruffled my hair. ‘Nadine is braver than we are, to tell him what he is. She was right to call me a mouse.’

‘No.’

‘Yes. I should have spoken up for Zeke.’

‘Paige, you’re the mollisher. You’re not supposed to contradict Jax in public, or even in private,’ Nick reminded me. ‘Nadine knows that.’ He breathed out a puff of fog. ‘She needs to be careful. Jax will lose his patience one day. He hired Nadine because without her, he wouldn’t have got Zeke. She’s far more vulnerable than the rest of us.’

‘Nadine works so hard for him. She makes plenty of coin.’

‘I’ve been his friend for years, and I can’t tell you how his mind works.’ Nick shook his head. ‘He has them in a bind, and he knows it. They can’t go home. They probably can’t even go elsewhere in the citadel.’

‘He trapped them here.’

‘Yes.’ He rubbed his forehead. ‘At least we all still have each other.’

With a nod, I leaned against him, my head on his shoulder. Nick wrapped one arm around me with a quiet sigh.

‘Paige,’ he said, after a while. ‘Can I tell you a secret?’

‘Of course.’

Nick drew a deep breath, his chest rising.

‘I think I’m in love.’

I drew away from him, so I could see his face. ‘You’re … in love?’

‘Yes.’ He was gazing out at the citadel. ‘I’ve known for a while, but I’ve been too afraid to say. Jax doesn’t let us fall in love for longer than one night.’ He rubbed his brow. ‘I’ve never felt this way before. I’ve been … consumed by a person, back in Sweden. But this is different.’

Hearing this, I felt strange and detached, as if my spirit had finally come loose from my body. Nobody in the gang fell in love. Eliza had her flirtations and flings, but otherwise, none of us had the time.

‘Okay,’ I said. ‘Is it someone from work?’

‘No.’ Nick glanced at me. ‘Someone closer to home.’

I looked back at him, chilled.

Someone in the gang. If Jaxon resented the idea of one of us being with a stranger or acquaintance for more than one night, he would fume at the realisation that a romance had blossomed under his roof.

‘I don’t know whether to risk telling them,’ Nick continued, ‘because I know how much unhappiness and tension it will cause, even if it’s reciprocated. But I also don’t feel like I can hold it in much longer. Is it selfish to want to say how I feel, even knowing it will hurt?’

I reached for the right words, steering him towards telling me, trying to ignore the shattering din in my head.

‘You should be honest.’ I heard my own voice as if from a distance. ‘Otherwise you’re living a lie. Jaxon doesn’t see everything, does he?’

‘The risk isn’t really to me.’ Nick sank deeper into his tweed coat. ‘Jaxon would never cut me off. He respects me too much. That aside, I have my own apartment, my own income. But we both know that not everyone is in the same position.’

My skin was cold, my eyes hot. I tried to breathe slowly, but in my head, a terrible reality was dawning. Nick was not talking about me.

And part of me wished he was.

Nick was gazing at the sky, his mouth tight at the corners. He still looked just the same as he had on the day he saved me from the poppy field.

‘Don’t leave me hanging,’ I said, forcing a smile. ‘Who is it?’

‘Zeke.’

‘Zeke,’ I echoed.

‘Yes. I’ve loved him for a few months now.’ He looked at me. ‘Jaxon would never allow it. And if he caught us, he might be angry enough to punish Zeke.’

‘You never let on,’ I said. ‘Why didn’t you tell me sooner?’

‘Because I hoped I would stop feeling that way. It would be simpler.’ He pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘I wish it could be someone at work. It would be easier to hide. But it’s been months, and I still think he’s the most beautiful person in the world. I really care about him, Paige.’

I sat there in silence for a good while, still feeling as if a numbing agent was seeping into me.

‘I think I could help him,’ Nick said, real passion in his voice. ‘There could be a way to bring his gift back – a gentler method than Jaxon is using. Zeke wants to play again. He misses hearing the spirits’ voices.’

I wished I could hear them, so I wouldn’t have to listen to this. My throat was drawn like the knot on a noose.

Nick loved someone. I had never said a word to him about how I felt; until now, I had barely known it myself, except as a vague feeling of warmth and joy when I was with him. I ought to be happy for him. I didn’t understand why I wasn’t – why I felt afraid and shaken.

‘I thought I could send Zeke a vision to explain,’ Nick said, a faint smile on his lips. ‘Or I could just talk to him, like a normal person. A chilling prospect.’

‘The normality, or the talking?’

Nick chuckled. ‘The latter. This is the one time in my life where being normal – not a criminal with an imperious boss – would be helpful.’

It warmed me to hear him laugh that way. It had been a long while.

‘You should tell him in person.’ I smiled. ‘How else will you know if he feels the same way?’

‘Like I said, it doesn’t matter, because we all know the rules. No commitment,’ he said. ‘Jaxon would burst every blood vessel in his body if he knew.’

‘Let him fume for a while. It will pass,’ I said. ‘It’s not fair for you to carry this.’

‘I’ve managed for nearly a year, sötnos. I can manage longer.’

Now the truth was staring me in the face, I was finding it harder and harder to hold myself together. The facts were cold and stark: Nick was not mine, the way I had once thought he was. I had never meant the same to him as he had always meant to me.

The stars were out, clear and bright. Looking at them, I felt small enough to disappear.

‘You really could have told me sooner,’ I said. ‘I won’t tell Jax.’

‘I never thought you would, but you’ve had problems of your own. It wasn’t fair of me to burden you with mine,’ he said. ‘Sometimes I think I should never have brought you into this, Paige.’ I looked sharply at him. ‘I see the way he treats you sometimes, too. Part of me wishes I had just left you alone.’

I shook my head.

‘Nick,’ I said, ‘you gave me a life.’

‘You had a life with Colin. You can still go back to it, if this is too hard.’

‘That wasn’t a life. My father and I both died in Ireland,’ I said, my voice thickening, ‘but you brought me back. Seven Dials is my world now. I love being in the gang. I love the chaos and the danger, all of it; I thrive on it. It is so hard, but every day is worth it. I can finally be myself, and I can be with you. I’ve never felt happier than I am now.’

I said it with as much conviction as I could, as I had many times before. It was still true on most days, even if Jaxon had darkened others. Even if I sometimes feared he would sever me from the underworld – from my lifeline – if I didn’t agree to become his weapon.

Even if it was a lie in this moment.

‘You saved me,’ I told Nick. ‘Sooner or later, I would have suffocated – lost my mind, lost control. I had to know. You made me part of something that matters. I’ll never be able to repay you for that.’

Gradual shock registered on his face. ‘Paige, are you crying?’

‘No.’ I turned away. ‘I’m sorry, but I have to go. I’m meeting someone.’

I wasn’t.

‘Paige, wait.’ He grasped my wrist. ‘I’ve upset you. What is it?’

‘I’m fine.’ I drew my coat close. ‘If you want my advice, you should go back right now and tell Zeke how you feel, while Jaxon is sleeping it off. If Zeke has any sense, he’ll say yes. I know I would, if it were me.’

His brow tightened, then released, his lips parting. And I saw him understand.

‘Paige,’ he started.

‘I’m late.’ I lowered myself over the edge. ‘I’ll see you on Saturday, okay?’

‘Paige, wait. Let’s just—’

‘Please, Nick. I need to go.’

He didn’t try to follow me, but his eyes were still wide, utterly stunned. I picked my way back down the building, leaving him alone beneath the crescent moon. When I reached the bottom, the rest of the tears came. I closed my eyes and breathed the night air.

I couldn’t go back to the den like this. This was not the Pale Dreamer.

Something would have to be done.

I took the Underground to Islington, despite the risk of travelling that way at night. My father worked long hours, and he wasn’t expecting me. I would be able to slip in and out unnoticed.

I reached the Barbican without running into any trouble. For a long while, I stood in the empty apartment. For the first time since I was a child, I wished for a mother or sister, or even a friend outside the syndicate. As it happened, I had none of those things.

Not that I would have known how to explain what I was feeling – or not feeling – if I had. I had just let Nick down in his moment of need, and I had no idea why.

I thought back to my time at school, when I had been the only voyant among amaurotics. Suzette Fortin – my one friend – had broken up with her Parisian boyfriend in our final year. I tried to remember how she had coped with it. My instinct was to spend a week in bed, but Jaxon would never let that stand, and he expected me tomorrow. I couldn’t work until I had purged myself of this feeling.

For all I tried, I couldn’t remember what Suzette had done to get over Gérard.

I did know how Eliza brushed her cares away.

In silence, I untucked my jersey and blouse from my trousers. I showered, then straightened my hair. I dabbed on a flick of lampblack. Finally, I slipped into a dress and matching heels, bought for a leavers’ dance I had never attended. The Schoolmistress had warned me not to come.

I needed to feel nothing like myself tonight. Shivering a little, I covered the dress with my woollen coat and walked on to the icy streets.

At some point, I found a cab. There was a club in the East End that Nadine frequented, with cheap mecks (and illegal alcohol), called Dance Upon Nothing. It was in a rough part of II-6, a section ruled by the Wicked Lady. That meant there would be no night Vigiles.

A huge bouncer guarded the door. He nodded me through without checking my card.

It was dark and hot inside, the music almost deafening. The space was packed with sweating bodies. According to Nadine, it was a converted bell foundry. A bar ran the length of one wall, serving oxygen and mecks from different ends; to its right was a dance floor, where lights flashed through dry ice. I sensed a seer, a physical medium.

For whatever absurd reason, Nick being in love was hurting like a punch to the gut. I would make it a clean break, and not allow myself to stop and feel.

I forged into the crowd. When I reached the bar, I sat on a stool, glimpsing my dim and distorted reflection in a mirror. This bar was a mixed bag of voyants and amaurotics. Even now, I had no idea what I was doing among them.

The waitron – a seer – raised his bushy eyebrows. I had a bad feeling I had seen him before. If this establishment paid tax to the Wicked Lady, it was best I didn’t stay for long, and vital that I didn’t associate with any voyants here. They would have me hurled off her turf.

‘Evening,’ he said. ‘Can I get you something?’

‘Blood mecks,’ I said.

‘Coming up.’

I risked a look around, already out of my depth. Eliza could drift into any club in the citadel and waltz out with a ride for the night. I had no idea how she did it, except that she drew admirers, the way her dreamscape attracted spirits. I clearly lacked her magnetism.

Nobody was looking my way. It was hard to catch a single eye in this darkness, let alone signal to a stranger.

There was a group of amaurotics at the other end of the bar. I was just about to give up and leave when one of them approached me. Nineteen or twenty, he was clean-shaven and a little sunburned. A mess of dark hair flopped on to his brow.

‘Hey,’ he called over the music. ‘Are you here by yourself ?’

I nodded.

‘Reuben Evans,’ he said. ‘Can I get you a drink?’

‘I’ve ordered, thanks.’

‘Mind if I sit?’

I shook my head. He took the stool next to mine.

‘I haven’t seen you before, and I come here a lot,’ he said. ‘Are you from around here?’

‘No,’ I said, calling up my English accent out of habit. ‘I live in Piccadilly. I take it you’re local.’

‘I’m from Cardiff, but I’m at the University.’ Now I could hear the mellow accent. ‘My digs are over in Shadwell. What brings you here?’

The Welsh had felt the sting of the Molly Riots. Scion had outlawed Cymraeg, along with the other Celtic languages, enforcing the blanket use of English. Reuben must come from significant privilege, to not bother to hide the way he spoke. Scion parents, perhaps.

‘A friend recommended this place,’ I said.

‘It’s good.’

It had been years since I had socialised outside the syndicate. I was coming to the swift realisation that I had forgotten how to make small talk.

The waitron handed me a glass of blood mecks, edged with honey. In winter, it was the most popular of the alcohol substitutes, made with cherries, black grapes and plums. Reuben gestured for the same.

‘So,’ I said, clearing my throat, ‘what are you studying?’

‘History of Scion Art. I’m in my second year,’ he said. ‘I want to be a curator at the Imperial Gallery.’

‘That’s interesting.’

‘I assure you, I am a very interesting person,’ Reuben said, with a dashing grin. ‘Sadly, all my friends are studying Inquisitorial Law, the most tedious subject. Rosie there wants to be a Vigile, of all things.’

‘That’s tough work.’

‘It’s honest work, but not for me. Good thing I spotted you,’ he added. ‘You look far more interesting.’ He accepted his drink. ‘What do you do?’

‘I work in an oxygen bar.’

‘Ah. I’ve always been curious,’ he said. ‘What do waitrons do in those places?’

‘Clean the equipment, chat to the customers, run social events, that sort of thing. But the bottom line is just … watching people breathe.’

‘Better or worse than watching paint dry?’

‘Marginally worse. Your friends over there probably are more interesting.’

‘Absolutely not.’

‘That’ll be nine bob and a penny,’ the waitron said curtly. Reuben and I both handed our coin over. ‘Can I see your identity card, young lady?’

I flashed my fake one from Leon. With a curt nod, he went back to cleaning out the glasses, but he kept an eye on me as I sipped my drink.

This man could not shake his suspicion that I was the Pale Dreamer. I rarely visited II Cohort, but about a month ago, Jaxon had sent me to broker a deal with a local gang called the Hempen Widows. Quite a few people had been at that meeting.

‘Hey,’ I said to Reuben, ‘do you want to dance?’

‘Sure.’

He threw back his drink and followed me into the gloom.

Fortunately, I knew how to dance. Eliza had taken me out with her enough times. Reuben was decent, too. For a while, I forgot what had happened with Nick and listened to the soulless music, approved by the Ministry of Arts. It vibrated in my very bones, filing away the æther.

After a while, Reuben drew me in, cradling my hips. I linked my arms around his neck, feeling his breath on my face, scented with apples. His stubble brushed my jaw. He drew back a little, looking at me.

‘Do you want to go somewhere?’

It was now or never. Somehow, I had worked the same charm as Eliza. I nodded.

Reuben linked his fingers through mine and led me through the crowd, towards the toilets. He opened the door to a cloakroom. Before I could so much as breathe, he had taken me against the wall and kissed me. I smelled cigarettes and sweat, cheap aftershave.

I had never been kissed before. I wasn’t sure if I liked it. He tasted of honey and mecks. A freckled hand came to cup my breast. Little by little, I grew used to the feeling, reaching up to grasp his shoulders.

When he started to unbuckle his belt, I almost stopped him. This was too much, too fast – but this was exactly what Eliza did, and she usually looked happier for it.

It was just sex. Just fun, just sweet abandon. No strings and no promises. I needed to be seen, desired. For a minute, I needed this stranger to think only of me. For a minute, I would become his world.

Reuben wanted me. I felt that. Yet as his other hand glided up the inside of my leg, as he nibbled along my jaw, every instinct told me to stop. I didn’t know why I doing this. How had I ended up here, with a stranger?

Now he was on his knees before me, hiking my dress up to my waist. He pressed another kiss to my bare stomach, warm against my skin.

‘You didn’t tell me your name.’ He traced the edge of my underwear. ‘Who are you, girl from Piccadilly?’

‘Eva,’ I whispered.

He slid my underwear down to my knees. I shivered, closing my eyes. I didn’t know him. I didn’t want him. I didn’t know what I was doing here.

‘Do you want me, Eva?’

‘Yes.’

Reuben reached up to touch me, taste me. Before he could, I pulled him up and crushed my lips back to his. He made a low sound in his throat.

I was covered in goosebumps now. Surely I was ready. While Reuben fumbled with his trousers, I pushed his shirt, allowing me to check his bare arm for the mark of a contraceptive injection. It was faded – he needed a booster soon – but still there. It would have to do.

Reuben bent to kiss the tops of my breasts. I had no idea what to expect when he drew me against him, both hands on my hips. He was trembling. I drank in the glazed desire in his eyes. He stared at me in a daze.

Then pain – stunning pain, like a swift uppercut into my stomach.

Reuben was oblivious. As he pushed into me, or tried, I could only hold still and wait, willing the deep ache to pass. He noticed my tension.

‘Eva?’

‘I’m fine,’ I managed.

He blinked. ‘Is this your first time?’

‘No.’ I wrapped my arms back around his neck, trying to distract myself. ‘Go on.’

He kissed me again. When he moved, it came again – a vicious, racking pain. This time, I couldn’t hold in a gasp of shock. Reuben drew back.

‘It is,’ he said. ‘Eva, it’s okay. We don’t have to do this.’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ I stammered out. ‘Just try again. I want—’

‘Eva, you’re beautiful. But you don’t look as if you’re enjoying this.’ His throat worked. ‘Look, I just don’t think we should. Can I call you?’

‘Fuck you.’ I pushed him away, so hard he fell into a rack. ‘Just leave me the fuck alone, then. I don’t want you. I don’t need anyone. Got it?’

He stared at me, shaken.

I was already halfway out of the door, pulling my dress back down my legs, forgetting my coat. By the time Reuben came after me, I had already locked myself into the toilet. I sensed him returning to his friends, then leaving.

My lower stomach was cramping, the pain heavy in my pelvis. I held my head in my hands and shook with silent tears.

When I emerged, the old waitron blocked the passageway, arms folded. Seeing my tearstained face, he frowned a little. I tried to compose myself.

‘I know a fake card when I see one, Pale Dreamer,’ he said. ‘I was going to tell the Wicked Lady.’ Pause. ‘But just this once, I’ll let you off.’

I watched him. ‘Why?’

‘Because you’ve clearly already had a rough night.’ He took me by the shoulder and steered me out. ‘I’ll call you a cab. Get back to where you belong.’

He shoved me on to the street. I stood alone in the slush of the citadel, tears chilling my cheeks, wondering where I would tell the driver to take me – the girl with no home, dancing upon nothing.