by Emma Newman
Max nodded and the gargoyle padded silently over to Kay, who shrank back from it, her wheeled office chair moving away with her. “Ask me anything you like,” the gargoyle said, grinning again.
“Do you bite?”
“Not people I like,” it replied as Rupert grabbed his coat.
“Brill, okay then, see you later. Don’t eat her,” he said to the gargoyle. “Don’t look so scared!” he said to Kay. “It’s only a lump of stone with a soul trapped inside it, animated by arcane means.”
She scowled at him. “We need to discuss my pay,” she added as they left. That was met with another wave of Rupert’s hand.
Rupert’s hire car was parked in an allocated space at the back of the building. Max got in the passenger side, resting his walking stick next to the door once it was shut. As the engine started the car was filled by a noise that Max could only assume was some sort of modern music. Rupert switched it off and pulled out into the city centre traffic.
“Are there any topics that shouldn’t be discussed with Kay?” Max asked, aware that she’d found the courage to start asking the gargoyle questions.
“Not that I can think of. We need to bring her up to speed as soon as we can. She’s got a brain like one of those super-absorbent kitchen towels, Max, like on the adverts, you know.”
“No, sir.”
“So retentive. And she has a capacity for logic and problem-solving that’s just a fucking joy to see in action.”
“She seems to be handling it all very well.”
“Yeah. I thought she would. She always seemed disappointed with the world. I think I just made it complicated enough to hold her interest. I might make her my apprentice.” He started to laugh.
Max tried to fathom the joke and failed. “I thought there were rules against women being taught the arcane arts.”
“There are. But who’s left to get on my case about them now? Fuck the rules. Listen, have you heard anything about Margritte Semper-Augustus Tulipa on your excursions into the Nether?”
“No. The Tulipas are primarily resident in Londinium and Oxenford, as far as I know. Is she causing problems?”
“Maggie? No. I’m just worried about her. I have no fucking clue what’s happening in Oxenford and…” He shrugged. “It’s complicated. I want to clear the air with her. We sort of fell out over…something. You got any contacts in Londinium?”
“Yes. Would you like me to ask about her whereabouts and well-being?”
“Yeah, that’d be awesome. Shitting crikey, I need to get control of the traffic system here. I can’t be doing with all these pissing red lights.”
They travelled the rest of the way across the city in silence punctuated by Rupert yelling obscenities at other drivers. Occasional snippets of the gargoyle’s conversation with Kay floated into Max’s consciousness. She seemed very excited by the concept of his soul being trapped inside the gargoyle by the chain that hung round its neck, forgetting her fear of it with each question.
“How did you meet Kay?”
“I heard about her from one of the Dons at the university. She helped me with a riddle. One sent by Ekstrand, funnily enough. I couldn’t crack it. She got it in, like, ten seconds. We became friends after that. Can’t be arsed with stupid people, Max. They bore me.” He pointed down the road they were driving along. “Down there on the right?”
“Yes. Do you know fifty more people as clever and adaptable as Kay?”
“Not that I’d be willing to work with. Don’t worry. We’ll find that woman who tried to kill me, deal with her, and then tech can make up the staffing shortfall. I know you’re used to a Chapter with dozens of staff but, let’s face it, your old boss wasn’t exactly moving with the times, was he?”
“I’m not worried,” Max said as the car pulled into the drive. “I also disagree with your appraisal of what it takes to run a Chapter and police Wessex effectively, let alone the entirety of Albion.”
Rupert either didn’t hear him or was choosing to ignore him. He got out of the car, shrugged his coat on, and strode up to the house as Max struggled to get out. By the time he’d limped over, Rupert had pulled up the hood of his hoodie and buttoned his coat. “I’m freezing my nuts off here. No reply—she must be in the Nether.” He chewed his lower lip. “I want to stay in Mundanus for now. Just in case.”
Max pulled the knuckle-duster from his pocket, put it on, and knocked three times. He had time to slip it off and drop it back into his pocket before the door opened.
Petra was dressed in black and her normally perfectly styled blonde hair was tied back in a lopsided ponytail with strands hanging around her face. Her eyes were red and puffy and her makeup was streaked. “Oh, Max. It’s you.”
“And me,” Rupert said, stepping into sight.
“Oh.” She looked disappointed. “I knew you’d come for them in the end.”
“Look, it’s bloody freezing out here.”
“Come in,” she said reluctantly, and shut the door after them. The house wasn’t much warmer. “Sorry I didn’t hear the door. I was in the Nether library.”
“Have you got the books I want ready?”
Petra wrapped her arms about herself. Max noticed that she was wearing the same suit as the last time he saw her, over a week ago. There were ladders in her hosiery and food stains on her blouse. “I’ve put them to one side but you can’t take them out of the library.”
Rupert pulled his hood down. “Oh, for fuck’s sake, we went through this on the phone. I’m not coming here every time I want to look something up. They’re not safe here. She knows where this place is.”
“You’re not safe here either,” Max said. “Why not close the house down and come and work with us?”
Petra looked utterly horrified. “I can’t leave the house! Who will take care of it now Axon’s gone?”
Max looked at the dust collecting on the hallway table, smelt the mustiness in the air. “I’m not sure you can take care of the anchor property and the Nether property too, not by yourself.”
“I’ve been focused on the library,” she said, looking away. “That evil woman took some of his books.” She looked at Rupert. “You are going to get those back, aren’t you? And she stole some other things too.”
“Eventually. If you give me those books, I’ll be able to find her more quickly.”
Petra rubbed her left eye, frowning at him. “Come to the library, then.”
“No, it’s in the Nether.”
She started to chew a thumbnail. “I shouldn’t let you,” she muttered. “He wouldn’t like it.”
“Ekstrand’s dead!” Rupert said. “He is literally incapable of giving a shit about who goes in his library, or anywhere else in this house!”
“I’m the only one left who cares and I know he wouldn’t like it!” she shouted back at him. “You don’t deserve those books! Get out!”
“I need them,” Rupert said, stepping towards her. “They used to be mine! Ekstrand stole them from me! That’s the only reason I know about them!”
Petra grabbed an umbrella from the nearby stand and held it in front of her like a sword. “I told you to get out!”
“Petra,” Max said, hobbling round to stand between her and Rupert. “We need the books and we need you. You’re wasted here. Mr Ekstrand tasked me with protecting this city from the parasites and it’s hard. If you helped us, it would be easier to protect the innocents and easier for Rupert to find the one who killed Mr Ekstrand before she kills again. Do you understand?”
The umbrella wavered, as if she barely had the strength to keep it held up. “I need to make sure the library—”
“Oh, for the sake of fuck!” Rupert made her jump. “Look, if you won’t let me take the books, I’ll have to go through this place top to bottom and pull out every damn diary, notebook, scrap of paper and see if—”
“No!” Petra’s horror made the umbrella waver even more.
Rupert peered through the doorway to the living room. “All sorts o
f interesting shit in there. Yeah, scrap the books, I’ll just take the whole fucking house and throw you out. That solves the problem just as well.”
Petra let the umbrella fall to the floor. “I’ll get them, if it means you’ll go.”
“I won’t stay a minute longer than I have to, trust me.”
“Make sure he doesn’t touch anything,” she said to Max, and then left, glancing over her shoulder a couple of times to make sure Rupert was staying put. When he took a step towards the living room she hurried off, making him chuckle.
Max looked at Rupert, standing with his hands in his pockets, rocking back and forth on his heels. “Was what you said about the books true? Were they yours?”
“Sort of,” he replied, but said no more.
Petra returned with a cardboard box full of books. “They’re all here. But you must promise to take care of them, and if you don’t need them anymore, please do bring them back.”
“Why? No one else is going to use that library. No point you staying here, like Max said.” She didn’t have anything to say about that so Rupert went over and took hold of the box. She was still holding it after several beats, then sagged once he’d prized it from her grip. “Good. They’re all here. Come on, Max. Weird-ass hybrid Sorcerer-killer to hunt, parasites to police and all that.”
Max went over to Petra as Rupert struggled to open the front door whilst holding the box. “You don’t have to stay here,” he said once Rupert was outside. “This is my mobile number. We have a new Chapter starting up at Cambridge House on Henry Street, top floor. Come and help us. We need people with experience.” He scribbled the number on the notepad next to the telephone that Axon used to use.
She took the piece of paper. “Maybe,” she said. “I just…I don’t feel like I can just abandon everything he made, and…”
Max saw the tears well in her eyes and knew he was the last person who could offer any solace. Even the gargoyle would be better equipped than he. Rupert was calling him. “I have to go.”
Petra closed the door behind him, a loud slam that echoed off the perimeter wall. The fountain at the centre of the drive was dry, and some litter had blown in from the street to gather at the edge of its plinth. He’d never appreciated all the work Axon did until he was gone.
Rupert beeped the car horn and Max made his way over as fast as his leg would allow. Rupert pulled out of the drive the moment Max’s door was shut and sped off down the street. Halfway back, he looked at Max. “She wasn’t always like that, I take it.”
“Petra is one of the most skilled and well-read people I have worked with,” Max said.
“Does she have family to go to?”
“I have no idea. I don’t know anything about her life before working for Mr Ekstrand.”
“Bit weird, him having a woman working so closely with him.”
Max didn’t reply and Rupert didn’t press him. They remained silent all the way back and in the lift up to the office. Kay was spinning in her office chair, knees tucked up under her chin as the gargoyle gave it another flick with a claw to make it spin again.
“Okay, so if you contain Max’s soul, and that’s the seat of emotion, how come the other half of you, the Arbiter bit, still gets up every morning and goes to work? Doesn’t that need some sort of desire or motivation? Are they separate from the soul? And if they’re separate—”
“You weren’t lying about the ten thousand questions,” Rupert said with a grin. “And I can probably answer that better than anyone else here.”
Kay stopped her chair spinning by grabbing the desk, her eyes rolling for a couple of seconds afterwards. “Okay, I’m listening.”
Rupert set the box down on his desk. “Part of the training all Arbiters go through is conditioning—you know, positive and negative reinforcement stuff. Max was conditioned to the point where he needs to investigate anything related to Fae activity when he’s in the field, so he can pursue leads without the need for any messy emotional desire. He has to keep policing, has to prosecute, has to protect the innocents. He physically can’t help himself now.”
Kay’s eyes widened and she exchanged a look with the gargoyle. “You mean…he was…I dunno…programmed?”
Rupert looked up at the ceiling tiles, considering the question. “Yeah, I guess so. Who wants pizza for lunch?”
“Isn’t that unethical?”
“Pizza is never unethical.”
“I mean what was done to Max! Did you do that to the Arbiters who worked for your Chapter in Oxford?”
“Me?” Rupert pointed at his own chest. “No! I didn’t. Pepperoni or Meat Feast? Or both?”
“Pepperoni,” Kay replied quietly. “I’ll go and collect. I need a walk.”
• • •
Sam dozed in the back of the limo as it sped towards Bath. He and Cathy had agreed that him walking through a Way between the cities at Bathurst Stables wasn’t the best plan when neither of them were sure how the magic worked, and whether he would break it. He decided to drive and meet her near Odd Down Park-and-Ride. She’d said it was only a short walk away from the stables in Aquae Sulis that she’d reach using the Way from Londinium.
He’d caught up with a couple of phone calls and was now trying to catch up on some much-needed sleep. He’d been working late every night since the terrible meeting with the Elemental Court, scanning the last of the information Leanne had gathered in the early days of her research that only existed on paper. Thankfully, as time had gone on, she’d backed up onto disks, which were easier to move onto flash drives.
Now that Cathy had a copy, he was less worried about someone tracking down the storage. He’d already moved it all to a different unit, under a different name, but his enemies were resourceful and very motivated to find it.
Enemies? Had he overreacted? He’d been working at full tilt since then, covering his arse, all based on a few reactions from the people in that room. Was this just paranoia?
Even under examination, that gut instinct to protect himself and prepare for battle remained intact, as did his horror that none of them seemed to have any idea about anything other than the normal, “mundane” world.
What had he been expecting? A room full of people in robes, incanting all sorts of weird shit and declaring him Lord Iron? As relieved as he was that it wasn’t an intimidating court with rituals and bizarre rules, he’d been hoping for more. Titles like “Lord Iron” and “Lady Nickel” and “Lord Copper” weren’t the sort of thing that dry businesspeople in suits came up with for themselves. And he was convinced Mazzi knew more than she was letting on. Why had she suddenly clammed up on him, after being so open the first time they’d met? Was it because he was turning out to be a disappointment? A danger?
He wanted to speak to someone who understood the roots of the Court, but with dismay he realised the only viable candidate was Ekstrand. Would that crazy, selfish bastard talk to him and Cathy? He wished he knew another Sorcerer, someone he could question without the baggage he had with Ekstrand.
Mazzi had said that the Sorcerers commissioned special pieces made of pure iron from Amir. That meant there had to be some sort of means of contact between whoever was the current Lord Iron and the current Sorcerer of wherever. It was clear from the way things had been handled after Amir’s suicide that there were rules in place—not being allowed to radically change his business interests for ten years being one of them. Even though he was beginning to question who exactly would enforce those rules, surely there were similar mechanisms in place for dealing with the Sorcerers that he could exploit.
Just because Amir hadn’t trained him in any esoteric skills, nor even mentioned them, didn’t mean the previous Lord Irons were ignorant. As soon as he’d taken Cathy to see Ekstrand, he was going to start some digging into who they were and whether they’d left any diaries or notes behind that could explain what exactly the roots of the Elemental Court were, and what he was capable of as Lord Iron. Once the decision had been made, sleep wasn’t far behind
it.
“We’re five minutes away from Odd Down Park-and-Ride, sir,” the driver said, waking him.
Sam sat up and tried to work the crick out of his neck. “Thanks.”
He looked out of the window, seeing the darkening sky. It wasn’t even five in the evening. He hoped Cathy was okay waiting for him.
He’d been relieved to see her looking so well when they met in the diner earlier, the best he’d seen her in a long time. Perhaps she was right to stay in that life. Perhaps the fight put that spark in her, the feeling that she had something to tackle head-on. It didn’t stop him wanting to take her home with him to Cheshire, wrap her in a blanket, put a whisky in her hand, and tell her she didn’t have to see any of those fucks ever again. He’d seen one of them stab her and could still hear that child screaming and the sickening thud of the blade going into Cathy’s chest. She said that husband of hers was different, but he remembered her talking about the marriage and how it was the last thing she wanted. She’d argued so passionately for help with Ekstrand, and that soulless fuck had ignored her. Surely she was just deluding herself. Maybe it was the only way to cope.
They reached a roundabout and the driver took an exit off it straight into the park-and-ride. A rather cold-looking Cathy waved at his car, her bodyguard beside her. Of course Carter was with her. Sam had forgotten about him.
“You weren’t waiting there for two hours, were you?” he asked when they climbed into the car.
“No, only a few minutes,” Cathy said through chattering teeth. “Ooooh, but it’s so lovely to be properly cold! That wind is absolutely bitter!”
Sam smiled at her and the way the tip of her nose was red. “It loses its novelty pretty quick.”
He directed the driver to Ekstrand’s house, and they reached it in the deepening twilight. A solitary light was on above the front door, but no others. “Shit,” Sam said. “Don’t tell me we came all this way and they’re not bloody in.” Then he noticed the dry fountain and the litter and leaves that had gathered around the front of the house. Something was wrong. He didn’t want to worry Cathy, who didn’t know that the house was usually impeccable. Maybe Axon just had the flu or something.
