Julian did what he had to do. He gave his answer.
The advocate for the prosecution against Julian and Rob was a patrician figure, distinguished and dignified, in a tailored charcoal suit. When he spoke, he sounded like a friend who worried as much for your children as you did.
Julian wondered how to strike back.
“Honoured peers of the tribunal,” the advocate for the prosecution said, “friends of the Council, ladies and gentlemen. We live in troubled times.”
His name was Kenneth Lytton. He worked for the Shield Foundation. Last time the Foundation had tried to crucify Julian and Rob in front of the Shadow Council, Alistair Sacker had led the charge personally. It had dissolved into a shouting match between him and Julian. Alistair had apparently had the good sense to delegate the second time around.
“Ours is a world of delicate balance,” Kenneth said. “Of powerful forces – dangerous forces – ever poised to collapse into utter ruin. We have seen it in the history we struggle to avoid repeating. We see it every day in the factors the Shadow Council must weigh and measure when they make their solemn decisions.”
Kenneth spoke both to the tribunal and to the audience. The tribunal was comprised of three warlocks from the Shadow Council, sitting together behind a raised table. Orson Mandellan, Jacob’s father, sat in the middle. Julian knew the old enmity between his father and Orson would come into play. To Orson’s left sat Philip Northfield, substituting for his uncle Trajan. Philip would vote as he was told to vote, though Julian didn’t know whether it was Orson or Trajan who had his ear. To Orson’s right sat Crispin Chalk.
“More than one hundred and fifty years ago, Peter Murdoch recognised the dangers our world faced,” Kenneth said. “He saw where our own follies might take us. And so he brought the disparate factions of our world together and forged the treaty by which we still live today.”
Julian studied Crispin. No older than himself, listening to Kenneth drone on with every appearance of respectful attention. Crispin had killed his way onto the Council. He had sent Astra to Iceland to tap a power that begged to be abused. Astra was out there now, somewhere, trying to find the next step on the path of mysteries Julian had trod four years ago.
“But the peace by which we live requires constant vigilance,” Kenneth said. “It requires the ever-watchful wisdom of the Shadow Council. It requires the humble efforts of the Shield Foundation and the many other organisations the Council employs to hold our world in equilibrium. We all contribute. We all sweat. We all struggle.”
Rob tilted closer to Julian and whispered, “I bet that guy’s never sweated a drop in his life.”
Their own advocate shot them a warning look. Rob cleared his throat and sat back in his chair.
Julian sat between Rob on his left and their barrister on his right. The advocate was Lincoln Kramer, a cousin from an outlying branch of the Blackwood family. He did not wear a warlock ring, not even one with a coloured gemstone.
Don’t say a word, Lincoln had warned them in a harsh whisper as they took their seats. Not one single word. Let me do all the talking.
Rob had made a conciliatory reply. Julian had settled in his chair silently and waited to see how their enemies would strike.
Trajan sat behind them in the gallery along with a few other witches and warlocks. A gap of several rows separated the magicians from the werewolves near the back. They clustered around Antiere Edwardes, the werewolf who sat on the Shadow Council, and Julian was sure their exact seating arrangements said a lot about their internal rivalries.
On the other side of the aisle, Alistair Sacker and a few high-level people from the Shield Foundation sat behind Kenneth Lytton’s team. Behind them was a strange group. Some must have been magicians, but the vampire Nathaniel sat with them. Crispin’s people, Julian assumed, though Astra wasn’t there. Isabella and members of the vampire court took up the back rows, across from the werewolves. Every time Julian looked round, it was to find Lady Christina Denton staring back at him.
So many enemies. So few allies.
“But when we stray,” Kenneth said, dropping his voice, “we must be reined in. When we transgress, we must stand to account for ourselves. The balance of our world requires nothing less.”
He pointed a finger towards Julian and Rob. “Here then are those who have brought all we cherish to the edge of chaos.”
“Chaos,” Julian murmured, thinking of the Reverend on the bridge.
“Hush,” Lincoln Kramer whispered.
“Beginning with the murder of Mitch Longfield,” Kenneth began. But he stopped, mouth open.
Julian rose to his feet.
Do not hesitate.
“Take your seat, Mr Blackwood,” Orson Mandellan said. His voice had been damaged as a young man, so he spoke with a deep rasp.
Julian ignored him.
“I know what you’re doing,” he said to Crispin. “Just because none of these idiots can’t see it doesn’t mean I won’t stop you.”
Crispin’s astonishment could have been genuine. Behind him, Julian heard the whispers and rustles from the representatives of the shadow world. Lincoln grabbed his arm and tried to pull him down. Julian subvocalised a word. A sharp, electrical crack sounded. Lincoln snatched his hand back.
Orson Mandellan rapped the gavel on the desk. “Julian! You will take your seat and–”
“And what?” Julian snapped. “Listen to this droning bore carrying on about all the good you pretend to do? The werewolves traffic humans, the vampires hunt more of them on their hidden reserves. I mean, even the chaos cults come and go as they please.”
“Sit!” Orson Mandellan roared. The force of his will rolled over Julian.
Julian twisted his hand and sent it rolling back.
The three councillors gasped, rocking back in their chairs. Orson and Philip were outraged. Julian’s temper frayed at Crispin’s smile of delight.
Rob stood at his side and grabbed him by the shoulder. “Shit Julian, I think this is maybe–”
“Look at everything we’ve gone through,” Julian said. “Look at everything we’ve done to save their flabby old arses. And they keep trying to punish us for it.”
Orson was on his feet. He raised his hand and the green gemstone of his ring shone bright in the air. It let out a single tone, a crystalline peal. Nothing could match that perfect sound. Behind it was all of Orson’s will and experience.
“By the authority of this council, you will sit!”
Rob’s knees buckled. Under his breath, he said, “Uh oh.”
The lights throbbed and pulsed. Julian pulled their power into himself. He felt Peter Murdoch’s old magic, woven into the building itself. It shimmered and rippled around him in waves.
Julian spoke a word of magic. He slashed his hand through the air.
Two tiny, matching clicks came from the rings Orson and Phillip Northfield wore. The gems set into their rings came free. Julian’s gesture flung them to the side of the room, where they struck the wall and fell to the floor with a tiny clatter.
“What authority?” Julian said.
He pushed past Lincoln and marched for the door.
On either side of him the vampires and werewolves rose to their feet as he passed, lit up with savage glee.
Julian escaped to the pavement in front of Murdoch House, under the watchful eyes of its gatekeepers. He wrapped his arms around himself. He was shaking from the reaction and the winter night was so cold he’d be shaking from that before long. All he had to keep him warm was his jacket.
He had the horrible feeling he’d screwed everything up.
When the doors banged open he spun round. His hand went for the place on his hip where his sword should have been. Antiere Edwardes and the werewolf contingent came out in a loud tangle, gesturing and arguing as they went.
One of them caught sight of Julian and grinned. Then they were gone.
Julian paced and shivered.
Rob found him soon after. “Here, figured you
’d want this.” He tossed Julian his coat.
“Thanks.” He pulled it on and zipped it up. Rob handed him his satchel as well.
They stood together silently, their breath making white clouds. Finally Rob scratched the side of his head and said, “Did that go the way you planned?”
“You’re the one who usually does the talking, remember?”
“Yeah, you should have given me the signal. I’d have stood up and given them a slightly less insulting speech.”
Julian made a sound too tired to be a laugh.
He saw Rob testing the air. “Tell you what, Antiere and his mob smell excited.”
“I may have fucked things up, Rob,” Julian said. “Quite a lot. The Council has been a bluff for years – decades. They don’t have anything like the power they pretend to wield. I may have given that away.”
“You think?” Rob stood only a short distance away, close enough to reach out and put a hand on his shoulder. “I guess they shouldn’t have brought Mitch up. That’s it, isn’t it? That’s the bug up your arse.”
All the anger rushed out of Julian. His shoulders slumped, his back bent. “I killed my best friend, Rob.”
“Self-defence, as I remember it. You saved a lot of lives.”
“I should never have had to.” He waved a hand towards the door and the people inside. “They should have known. They should have stopped him before it came to that.”
“And that’s why you think they’re so useless,” Rob said. “You’ve always been pretty tough on the Shield Foundation and all the others.”
The doors opened again. Trajan moved with big strides of his long legs. The shorter Lincoln almost had to jog to keep up.
“Anything interesting happening inside?” Rob asked in a light tone.
“Pandemonium,” Trajan said. His deep, smooth voice had a rare growl of stress in it. “Orson is calling for your head, Julian.”
“I believe I gave a clear impression of what I think,” Julian replied, though without much fire, “of his right to it.”
“I’ve spoken to your father,” Trajan said. “He’s on his way down to London. In the meantime, we have more important things to worry about.”
“You’re taking us seriously on Crispin then?” Rob asked.
Trajan nodded. “Evelyn is in lockdown. She says the Trafalgar facility is impenetrable.”
“You should know better than that, Uncle Trajan.” He remembered the mangled defences Savraith had left behind him when he breached the facility – a power Crispin, through Astra, might very well have access to. And he remembered his own break-in four years earlier.
He had needed the same answer for which Astra now searched.
“We need to make our plans,” Trajan said. “Come to the residence. We’ll gather our resources and when we find Astra Kallis, we’ll put a stop to this.”
The secret he’d killed Mitch to protect was about to come out into the open. Julian had expected that to bring about the end of the world and it just might yet, but instead of anger or fear he felt a calming relief. Perhaps it could only ever have ended this way, with friends and family at his side.
The streetlights stuttered and went out.
Julian spun around. Ghost electricity burst in the air in front and above him. It filled the world with white light. Its fierce crackling drowned out all other sounds.
Savraith’s ghost coalesced. Its gaze fell on Julian. He felt that vast, once-human intellect bearing down on his thoughts.
A flicker of motion. Rob charging at it.
Julian raised his hands. He caught Rob with his will and shoved him aside.
Savraith’s power surrounded Julian. He felt gravity go. The sky pulled at him. He lost all sense of direction as Savraith enveloped him in white portal light.
Chapter 24 – Fiona/Julian
Fiona opened her front door to find Alice waiting, as still as marble, in her front yard. “Thanks for coming over so quickly,” Fiona said. “Please, come in.”
“You only have to invite me in the first time,” Alice said, stepping past her.
“We’re down the back,” Fiona said. “Rob’s waiting for us there.” She’d planned this conversation over and over since she sent the text asking Alice to come over as fast as she could. The next few minutes would not be easy on Alice.
Rob was pacing the new room at the back of Flat 2 Hawthorn House. He gnawed on his knuckle as he moved. Jessica was with him, watching him rove back and forth like he was entertainment.
Fiona would have sworn Alice moved without a sound. Rob spun to face her before Fiona could announce her. The urge to fly at her was plain on his face, but Fiona had warned him she’d invited Alice. He wrestled his hostility back under control with a visible effort.
“I called you over here because Rob asked me to,” Fiona said. She kept a hand on Alice’s shoulder. Just a friendly way of asking her not to open a new front in the war between vampires and werewolves in her home. “He’s got a little problem he–”
“Julian’s been taken,” Rob blurted out.
There goes that plan, said the snarky voice at the back of Fiona’s mind.
Fiona told it to try being helpful for once.
Alice changed as rage seized her. Fiona snatched her hand back as the flesh beneath Alice’s jacket shifted. Her shoulders broadened, her feet ripped out through her sneakers. Her nose became a blunt snout, her teeth a row of jagged spikes. Her hands grew larger, her claws more savage.
“By who?” Alice snarled.
“Oooh,” Jessica said. “Yeah Rob, you should have let Fiona do the talking like she said.”
Fiona made herself put her hands back on Alice’s shoulders. Alice rounded on her, hissing, but Fiona swallowed and held on. “Alice, you’re no good to him if you fly off the handle. I need you to calm down and help us. Can you do that for me?”
Her eyes were amber instead of blue, as bright as if a bonfire burned within her. “He’s mine,” she said. Her voice was still far from human. “Who took him?”
“A girl named Astra,” Rob said. He kept his distance, though Fiona could see from the way he kept shifting his weight that Alice’s change had just about set him off too. “Astra Kallis. I know her sister, but I can’t reach her. We think – me and Julian, that is – we think Astra works with Crispin Chalk.”
“How do we find him, Alice? Think.”
Alice’s big, ragged ears flicked to catch every slight sound. “His family?”
“Trajan called the Blackwood seers,” Rob said. “There’s a whole family of them or something? They gave it a go but kind of freaked out. We tried calling Evelyn Hargrave too, but she’s not answering.”
“I used my aetherscope, but I don’t have an aura sample to work with,” Jessica said.
Fiona noticed the phone in Jessica’s hands. She was holding it so she could take covert photos of Alice. Fiona glared. Jessica nonchalantly put her phone behind her back.
“A finder,” Alice said. Fiona could feel her trembling. “We need a finder.”
“Are there vampire finders?” Fiona asked.
Alice shrugged her off, backed away. When she reached the wall she rested her claws against it, as though she meant to cling to it. “I don’t have access to them any more.”
“I know a finder,” Fiona said as the idea popped into her head. She threw up her hands. “I don’t know where to find her though.”
“Bloody brilliant,” Rob growled. He started pacing again.
Fiona scowled at him.
“Who is your finder?” Alice asked. Her claws drew lines in the white paint of the wall as she opened and closed her hands.
“Her name is Kate,” Fiona said. “She was one of the Red Sisters. I have no idea what happened to her after Bromley-by-Bow.”
Alice’s smile was hideous. “Jacob. We can try Jacob. He should be able to find Julian. If he can’t, your Red Sister is just the sort of person he’d keep an eye on.” She straightened, at least as much as her curved spine
allowed. “I know the hospital where he’s staying.”
“Jessica, fire up your teleporter.”
Jessica punched the air. “Yes.” She raced out of the room.
Fiona folded her arms across her chest. “As for you two, get your heads together. I need you both to at least appear human.”
When Julian came to, it was to the sound of squabbling.
“Let me have a look at it.” The voice was male, peevish. “You can’t even make it work.”
The voice was answered by a growl, a sound part human and part not. Julian guessed it was Tom Calder or someone like him.
“Look, that’s the safety there.”
“I’ve tried both settings,” Tom Calder replied. His voice was deep, with a rattle in it Julian had heard from Rob when his temper frayed.
“You’re obviously doing something wrong. Unless it only works for him.”
Julian guessed they meant him.
He was seated, bound by what felt like acrylic rope to a wooden chair. He did not raise his head or open his eyes. He couldn’t feel any pain coming in from any part of him, though he suspected that would not last. He tested the rope as subtly as he could with his muscles and with magic. It didn’t budge.
“How much stuff is in this bag anyway?” Another male voice, this one with a Birmingham accent. “Nothing comes out when you turn it over, but you can keep pulling things out of – Give me that!”
“I just want to look at it, Liam,” whined the peevish voice. “What is it? Some kind of glove? It looks stupid.”
Still with his eyes closed, Julian stretched out further with his senses. Wherever he was it reeked of magic, particularly the sharp tang of ghost electricity. He could still feel ripples from when they teleported him here. Either he hadn’t been out long or they were sloppy at it.
“Can I try the sword, Astra?” the peevish voice asked. “Please?”
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