The Copper Heart

by Sarah Painter

  Walking up the hill now, it seemed like a gentle slope. The trees around the tomb were still wild and overgrown, but there were far fewer than Lydia remembered, and when she approached the edge of the rise to look out at the view, the suburban sprawl seemed closer and larger than in her memory. The view of the city was still there, though, and she fixed her sights on it, ignoring everything else. This was a good thinking place. And, with her increased knowledge of her own powers, or perhaps her relationship with a deceased person, she felt the presence of the Crows who had gone before. It was faint, though. She didn’t think the spirits of the Crow Family stayed anchored here in the earth, however pleasant the view. We’re up there, she thought, tilting her neck to look at the blue expanse of sky. She heard beating wings and felt air running over her feathers, like a caress. Comforting and exhilarating all at once. Home.

  She patted the stonework as she passed, looking for the sundial that she liked as a child. It was blue-weathered bronze and on the southern side of the tomb. The old-fashioned lettering which had confounded her as a small person, now leapt out. ‘Life is but a passing shadow, the shadow of a bird on the wing.’

  * * *

  Lydia walked back to The Fork from the cemetery. It took almost an hour, but pounding the pavement had always been good for her thought processes. Besides, it put off the moment when she had to walk back into the building which no longer felt like her refuge and home.

  It was late in the evening and the cafe was shut. Angel should have been long-gone but the lights were on downstairs. Lydia recognised Aiden’s outline through the window and steeled herself for another unwelcome surprise, or another piece of Crow business she would instantly wish she didn’t know.

  ‘Hang on,’ she said to Aiden, crossing to the counter to make a strong coffee. The ritual was soothing, but it was really a delaying tactic. It didn’t put off the inevitable for long, though. Sipping the bitter liquid, Lydia was trying not to think about how much she was relying on Aiden to act as the conduit between herself and the rest of the Crows. He had worked closely with Charlie and everybody seemed to like and trust him, so it made sense. But the fact that he had worked closely with Charlie meant that Lydia didn’t know how loyal he still was to his old boss. Aiden was running through various issues, most of which he had already sorted out, and he seemed in his element. But how much could she trust him?

  He had been one of the most pragmatic in the Family after Charlie’s disappearance, but Lydia wasn’t stupid enough to take people at face value. Especially not Crows. She loved her family, of course, but they were known to consider every angle. To work every possible advantage and to think several steps ahead. Lydia realised that Aiden had stopped speaking and was looking at her expectantly. If the niggles and petty rivalries and minor theft had been sorted out, why was he telling her about them? Oh yes, Lydia realised, so that she would know he had sorted them out. Aiden was looking for a pat on the head. Management didn’t come easily, but Lydia forced a smile. ‘Good work.’

  Aiden looked momentarily confused, then his cheeks pinked a little. ‘Everyone is satisfied with your climb.’

  ‘Good,’ Lydia said. She sensed there was more, though. ‘What? Is it Alejandro? Has the news got out?’ She made a mental note to check online. If it was out, there would be questions and concern. A lot of concern.

  ‘It’s not that.’

  ‘Really. I’m monitoring the situation and will update everyone as soon as I have solid information.’

  ‘People are still whispering. About Charlie.’ Aiden hesitated. ‘Some people have wondered why you aren’t looking for him.’

  ‘He doesn’t want to be found,’ Lydia said smoothly. ‘And if people want to talk to me about it, they can do so. Anytime. It’s not like they don’t know where to find me.’ She gestured around the cafe.

  Aiden stood up. ‘Right. Right, I’ll tell them.’

  ‘You do that,’ Lydia fixed him with her best Charlie-stare. Dead-eyed. ‘Let them know I’m not a fan of whispers.’

  * * *

  Lydia was climbing The Shard, but this time the wind was whipping at her face and hands like it wanted to rip her from the building. Her muscles were trembling and her fingers were numb from the cold. She flexed them tighter, willing herself to hold on. Eyes watering, she forced herself to reach for the next rung. The sound of giant wings beating, dangerously close, made her heart hammer faster. She was sweating with fear and exertion and she wanted to close her eyes, to pretend it wasn’t happening. This is a dream, she realised. She was reliving her climb. If she looked over, she would see the crow. The dream state continued with that immersive, cold dread. The premonition that if she looked, she would see something terrible and unforgettable. Lydia wasn’t going to give into fear, not even when asleep, so she turned her face and looked. It was her cousin, Maddie. She was bruised and broken and had blood running down her face. Her eyes were beseeching. When she opened her mouth to speak, her mouth was a graveyard of broken teeth. ‘Why don’t you fly?’ With that, Lydia felt her hands slip and, with an awful weightlessness, she was falling backwards and down, the air suddenly rushing past her ears.

  Lydia woke up in a tangle of duvet, her face and neck clammy with cold sweat. She thought she had been woken up by the nightmare but then realised that her mobile was ringing. It was an unknown number and Lydia’s befuddled brain just had time to process that it might be the burger van guy she had given her card, before the theory was smashed by Simon’s voice.

  ‘It’s Ash,’ he said.

  Lydia sat up, her brain firing, now. Simon had been taken by the Pearls at the age of sixteen and had spent three years partying with them against his will. They had rechristened him ‘Ash’, although that was likely to be the least worst of the liberties they had taken. Time had run faster outside of the Pearls underground home and twenty years had passed by the time he was released.

  ‘I can’t get used to Simon,’ Ash said. ‘I’m just going with Ash. I know it’s probably Stockholm Syndrome or something, and I should stick with the therapy, but I feel like Ash, now, so…’

  ‘Lots of people change their name,’ Lydia said. ‘It’s your choice.’

  ‘Yeah,’ Ash said, sounding a little brighter.

  ‘I don’t want to be unsympathetic,’ Lydia began, squinting at her phone screen. ‘But it’s three-thirty.’

  ‘Shit. Sorry. I lost track.’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘I think I found it.’ Ash’s voice went up in excitement.

  ‘Found what?’

  ‘Their lair. The entrance to it.’

  ‘Please tell me you’re at home.’ The audio quality sounded like he was outside, but perhaps he was standing in his parents’ back garden, enjoying the air.

  ‘Highgate,’ he said.

  Lydia focused on the grey shapes in her room, letting her eyes adjust to the gloom. ‘Go home. Please. I told you I would find them for you.’

  ‘But you haven’t,’ Ash said. ‘I’m not complaining, I know you’re busy, but I need closure.’

  That was the therapy talking, Lydia supposed. Was closure a real thing? Something human beings actually got? It sounded like things had to stop changing, to Lydia. And that meant death. ‘Closure is overrated,’ she said. ‘Breathing free air is pretty great. Why don’t you focus on enjoying that instead?’

  ‘I can’t.’ Ash’s voice had faded, like he had moved his mouth away from his phone. Then he said: ‘Gotta go. I think I see something.’

  ‘I’ll come to meet you,’ Lydia said. ‘Don’t do anything until I get there.’

  A pause. Lydia heard a siren in the background, then Ash’s voice. Frightened, now. ‘Back up would be good.’

  Chapter Five

  It didn’t take Lydia long to dress and head across the river to Highgate. She took her car, counting on reasonable traffic given the unreasonable hour, and arrived at Queenswood Road half an hour later. The road cut through the middle of Queen’s Wood, which was Highga
te Woods’ lesser-known neighbour. There were spaces marked along the side of the road and, praise be, plenty free for parking. The trees reached their limbs across the thoroughfare, forming a tunnel of branches and foliage. It was eerily quiet, traffic noise from the main roads curiously muffled. The last time Lydia had set foot in some London woodland, she had felt like she’d taken an acid trip. Or, at least, how she assumed one would feel. Lydia had bypassed the drugs-as-rebellion stage, figuring ‘forbidden relations with Paul Fox’ was bad enough.

  She checked her phone for updates and, not seeing any, used the flashlight to head into the wood at the next proper path. It looked like people had cut into the woods at different points, wearing unofficial paths up the sloped bank and into the woodland, but Lydia wasn’t straying today. It was dark enough to conceal all kinds of threats, even if the Pearls weren’t up to their old tricks.

  She heard Ash before she saw him. A dull thump followed by an exhalation, surprisingly soft. The first sound had been a punch, Lydia realised, as she turned the corner. Ash was doubled-over, his arms wrapped protectively around his stomach. There were five figures surrounding him at a distance with one, likely the puncher, closer. He was wearing a baseball cap and baggy jogging trousers which looked cheap but had a logo on the back, so might have been expensive. One of the others saw Lydia first and shouted at her to ‘just fuck off’.

  Lydia stopped and sized up the situation. They were very outnumbered and that was even assuming Ash was fit and able to hold his own. But the faces turned to her looked young, barely in their teens. ‘Police’ she slipped her ID from her jacket pocket and flipped it open, holding it up briefly. ‘Unless you want a trip to the station, you lot can do one.’

  The group didn’t move and Lydia jerked her chin up in the international signal of ‘get on with it’.

  After another moment of bravado, with nobody moving a centimetre, the leader gave Lydia a long look up and down and shrugged. ‘Boring here, innit.’ And they moved off, a pack of kids who ought to have been safely tucked up at home, killing things on their PlayStations.

  Lydia watched them move up the path until they disappeared into the trees, taking one of the unofficial paths off the main route. There was a chance they would double-back for a re-run and, kids or not, things could get tricky. Especially if they were carrying blades. Lydia grabbed Ash’s arm. ‘Come on,’ she marched him back the way she had come.

  ‘I’ve got to show-’ Ash began.

  ‘Shut up,’ Lydia said.

  He didn’t try to speak again until they were out of the woods and at the road. ‘You can let go of my arm, now.’

  ‘Can I?’ Lydia said, but she dropped her grip and stood in front of him, arms folded.

  ‘You’re angry,’ Ash said.

  ‘You’re an idiot.’

  ‘I didn’t ask you to rescue me,’ Ash said. ‘I would have been fine.’

  ‘You called me,’ Lydia said.

  ‘Oh, yeah,’ Ash passed a hand over his face. He looked tired. His face was washed yellow by the streetlamp, dark shadows under his eyes and cheekbones. ‘I wanted to show you what I found. A doorway. I think it’s them.’

  Lydia was pretty sure the Pearl court had a way to enter their underground home in Highgate Woods, but she was also certain that it wouldn’t be findable unless they wanted it found. Fleet and his team hadn’t seen anything when combing the area for Lucy Bunyan earlier in the year and the sense that Lydia had got was of very old, very strong magic. That sounded ridiculous and it wasn’t something she was in a hurry to say out loud, but there was no other word for it. The Pearl Family had appeared to be diluted and weak, their family members scattered throughout London, running shops and stalls and working as hotel receptionists or accountants, their Pearl ability a shadow of what it had once been, but Lydia had recently learned that there was a core section of the Pearl Family which was extremely powerful. They looked young and beautiful but Lydia had glimpsed their true faces, and seen that they were very old indeed. Possibly even the original Pearls. At once, the fairy stories of how the Pearls had come into existence had seemed entirely plausible. Once upon a time, a fae and a mortal had a baby girl… ‘Look,’ Lydia forced herself to speak gently. ‘You can’t keep looking for them like this,’ she indicated the deserted street and the woods beyond. ‘It’s the middle of the night and you’re alone. And what was your plan if they popped up in a clearing for a chat, anyway?’

  Ash pulled a knife from inside his black bomber jacket. It was very shiny and had an intricately-decorated handle. ‘It’s iron,’ he said. ‘I’ve been reading up on the lore and they don’t like iron.’

  Looking at the blade, Lydia decided she wasn’t a huge fan, either. Several possible responses ran through her mind, but she settled on the mildest of them. ‘Put that away before you hurt yourself.’

  Ash’s expression hardened, but he obeyed. ‘I’m not playing,’ he said. ‘They stole my life. They might have done it again. They could have a new hostage down there. I can’t just get on with my life and forget it happened.’

  ‘Let’s go for breakfast,’ Lydia said. ‘My treat.’

  * * *

  As they crossed the river, Ash yawned so wide his jaw cracked. ‘You want me to drop you home, instead?’

  ‘It doesn’t feel like home.’

  Lydia took that as a no.

  ‘Don’t you want to know what I found?’ Ash said, his face turned to the window.

  ‘I can guess,’ Lydia said. ‘A place in the woods which felt odd. It went really quiet and the air felt funny, electric like there was about to be a storm. Maybe you saw the trees moving like they were growing.’ She didn’t take her eyes off the road, but could feel Ash staring at her.

  ‘How did you know that?’

  ‘Finding the entrance isn’t the problem,’ Lydia said. ‘It’s getting in without an invitation.’ And getting out alive, she added silently.

  It was almost five when they arrived at The Fork and the sky was lightening. Lydia left Ash prowling around the cafe, looking at the framed pictures on the walls, and went into the kitchen to forage breakfast. Angel wouldn’t be thrilled, but she wouldn’t say anything. Not now. Lydia cracked eggs into hot oil, and put bread into the toaster. The cooking gave her a little more time to think. It was true that she had dropped the ball on Ash’s investigation. She could argue that she had been very busy and that would be accurate, but it still wasn’t a satisfactory excuse. Lydia had offered to help Ash because she felt guilty about letting him down before, not investigating his case quickly enough when she thought his concerns were down to poor mental health. She seemed to be repeating her past mistake, rather than atoning for it.

  She piled everything onto a tray and carried it out to the cafe. Ash was sitting at one of the central tables, lining up the little packets of sugar. He swept them into his hand when he saw Lydia.

  ‘Eat,’ she said, putting the tray down on an adjacent table and unloading it. She put a plate with fried eggs and bacon and buttered toast and a mug of tea in front of him. It wasn’t up to Angel’s standards, but Lydia wolfed her portion down, realising as she ate that she had forgotten to have dinner the night before. She was going to have to watch that. She had cut down on her whisky, after realising that her powers were much stronger when she wasn’t drinking a bottle or so a day, but the unstable hours of a private eye weren’t conducive to a healthy lifestyle.

  ‘Why did you say you were police?’ Ash said, after a few minutes of picking at his food. ‘You could have told them your name and they would have run away.’

  Lydia was pleased he thought so. ‘That would be like using a machete to give a hair cut.’ And she didn’t want to advertise her presence in the Pearls’ manor. They seemed to have a penchant for using kids as scouts and there was a small chance word would have been passed on. Lydia thought about her own network of informants around the city. It was still pretty small, but growing steadily. One day, she would be like her old boss and be able to f
ind out anything at all with a well-placed phone call or a couple of site visits with some crisp twenties in her pocket. ‘You can’t put yourself in danger like that,’ Lydia said. ‘I’m sorry progress has been slow-’

  Ash opened his mouth to speak and Lydia held up her hand. ‘You’re right to be impatient. I’ve been distracted. I haven’t given it my full attention and I’m sorry. But I will from now on, okay? But you’ve got to promise me that you’ll stop hunting them on your own. I can’t do my job if I’m worrying about baby-sitting you at the same time.’

  ‘I want to be involved. I can’t stop thinking about them and I need to be a part of it. I can’t just…’

  ‘And you will be. But we go together. With a plan.’

  Eventually, Ash nodded.

  Lydia mopped up the last of her egg with a crust of toast and smiled at him. ‘Trust me.’

  Chapter Six

  ‘Brain aneurysm,’ Fleet said.

  ‘Good morning,’ Lydia managed. She wiped drool off the side of her face and sat back in her chair, the bones of her spine cracking. It was almost ten and the sun was pouring through the window. She had driven Ash home just after six and had intended to forgo sleep, sitting her arse in her desk chair and beginning to work through the notes from Aiden. Instead she must have fallen instantly asleep. At least it had been dreamless.