The Shadow Wing

by Sarah Painter

  Without expecting to find Maddie in such an obvious place, Lydia checked the canal first. The boat Maddie had used before was occupied by a middle-aged couple who seemed as normal as it was possible to be. Lydia had printed some information sheets from the council website on canal bylaws and handed one over as her cover, introducing herself as a council worker on a thankless, box-ticking task. They were perfectly pleasant, and she got zero Family reading from either one of them.

  Next was Uncle John and Aunt Daisy, Maddie’s parents. Aiden hadn’t noticed any unusual behaviour or heard any useful gossip. Certainly nothing about Maddie being seen around her family home. Still, Lydia felt that she needed to check for herself. It wasn’t that she didn’t trust Aiden to do a good job, it was just that… She was a control freak who didn’t trust anybody.

  Uncle John wasn’t Lydia’s biggest fan. He thought she was too young, too inexperienced and too female to be head of the Family, and he hid it poorly. He let her into his Camberwell house with a palpable reluctance. ‘To what do we owe the honour?’

  Lydia fixed John with her best shark-stare. She had learned it from Uncle Charlie and, she liked to think, had learned it well.

  John dropped his gaze and led the way to the kitchen. ‘Daisy’s not here. She’s at the gym. Or out with the girls. I forget which. It could be shopping.’ He shrugged in a faux-apologetic manner. ‘I wasn’t really listening, I’m afraid.’

  ‘I’ll take a coffee, thanks,’ Lydia said, taking a seat the large table. ‘Do you have any biscuits?’

  After a brief session of small talk, which neither of them enjoyed, Lydia cut to the chase. In short order, she ascertained that John hadn’t seen or heard from Maddie and, to the best of his knowledge, neither had his wife.

  Lydia had never been keen on John and his attitude toward her hadn’t warmed her feelings, but she didn’t wish him actual bodily harm. Which was why, when he asked why she was asking about Maddie, Lydia didn’t lie. At least, not completely. ‘Can you keep something between us?’

  He nodded.

  ‘Maddie has been seen in central London. I don’t know if she is hanging around for a long visit or whether she has already flown away, or if the person who reported seeing her was mistaken, but…’

  ‘When?’

  ‘Last week.’

  ‘I had a feeling,’ he said, abruptly. ‘When I was in the garden on Friday. You know when you feel like someone is watching you?’

  It was Lydia’s turn to nod.

  ‘But I couldn’t see anyone. And it could have been one of the neighbours looking out of their windows, nothing to worry about. But I felt it on the back of my neck.’

  ‘It might not have been her,’ Lydia said, realising that she was suddenly in the strange position of reassuring him. John was clearly unhappy.

  ‘You’re right,’ he said. ‘Why wouldn’t she have come in to say “hello” if it had been her. If she had been so close to us. She would have visited.’

  Lydia made a non-committal noise.

  John walked her to the front door. He probably meant to seem polite, but it felt like she was being seen off the premises.

  ‘Tell me if she gets in touch or if you see her,’ Lydia said, not bothering to hide the command in her tone.

  At that moment, Daisy opened the front door. She was visibly shocked and alarmed at the sight of Lydia, which set her wondering whether Maddie had, in fact, been around. Or perhaps they were hiding something else. Or they just hated her guts.

  ‘We missed you on Sunday,’ Daisy said stiffly, hanging her beige coat on a peg and giving Lydia the lightest of air kisses.

  The Easter Sunday garden party. Egg rolling for the little ones and a booze-laden BBQ for everyone else. ‘I was working,’ Lydia said.

  ‘Of course you were,’ Daisy said. ‘We all know how stretched you are. With your little business as well as your Family role. We did wonder if it would be too much for you on your own, didn’t we, John?’

  He nodded stiffly, eyes wary. John was no fool, and he knew that Daisy was sailing very close to the wind.

  Lydia smiled thinly and produced her coin, lazily flipping it over the back of her knuckles. Daisy stopped speaking.

  ‘I appreciate your support,’ Lydia said. ‘And I know where to come when I need help. It’s important to know that family is on side.’

  John swallowed and Daisy’s eyes widened.

  ‘She meant no disrespect,’ John blustered.

  Lydia stared him down.

  ‘We meant no disrespect. I mean, neither of us… We respect you.’ John seemed unable to stop speaking, while Daisy just stared at Lydia with her mouth open. Frozen.

  Lydia let the silence play out for a few seconds longer than was comfortable before flipping her coin into the air and catching it. ‘I’ll be in touch.’

  * * *

  Now that John and Daisy had joined the growing number of people who knew that Maddie was back in London, the guilt at not telling Fleet was gnawing at Lydia’s insides. She was distracted by a fresh source when he called her mobile to ask why she wasn’t at his flat. She had forgotten that she had promised to meet Fleet’s family, and that they had agreed to go together from his place. ‘Sorry, sorry. I’m leaving right now.’

  ‘I’ll pick you up,’ Fleet said.

  Lydia knew her hair was in need of a wash so she pulled it back into a pony tail. She considered getting changed into smarter clothes but then figured that it wasn’t likely to make enough of a difference and that she needed all the comfort she could get. A quick look in the mirror revealed an unhealthy complexion, so she added some red lipstick to brighten and distract from the dark circles under her eyes. The face looking back at her was the one she had seen in her nightmare and she hastily rubbed the lipstick off again, erasing Maddie’s ghost.

  By the time she was outside the cafe, looking out for Fleet’s car, she was thoroughly rattled.

  After apologising for forgetting and for not having anything to bring his aunt, Lydia slumped back in the passenger seat and tried to calm herself down.

  ‘It’s all fine,’ Fleet said, not for the first time, as he pulled into a parking space.

  The engine ticked as it cooled and Lydia made no move to leave the car. ‘Will she like me?’

  ‘Of course,’ Fleet said easily. ‘She has excellent taste.’

  ‘Will she mind that I’m not…’

  Fleet raised an eyebrow. ‘What?’

  ‘That I’m a bit paler than you. A lot paler than you.’

  Fleet ducked his head to look into her eyes. ‘She knows.’

  Lydia wanted to tell him that that wasn’t a complete answer, but she also knew that she might not want to push him for the whole one. She might not like it.

  Fleet’s aunt lived in a high rise with open balconies. The buzzer was extremely loud and set off a cacophony of barking from inside the flat. ‘I didn’t know she had dogs.’

  ‘She doesn’t,’ Fleet said. ‘Too much mess. But my cousin-’

  He was cut off by the door opening and a small round woman pulling him into an immediate embrace. She was wearing a red floral-patterned dress which brushed the floor. ‘Don’t let the dogs out,’ she said, her words muffled by Fleet’s body.

  Two tiny Yorkies were attempting to wriggle through the gaps between her body and the door frame. Lydia stepped up closer and prepared to duck and grab.

  Fleet disentangled himself and pulled Lydia by the hand to follow the woman who was retreating into the flat, shooing the dogs as she went. He closed the door and Lydia stooped to unlace her DMs. Fleet had warned her that his aunt had a no shoes rule.

  The living room wasn’t large and it was filled with bodies. Fleet’s aunt was in an aggressively paisley armchair, three young women were squashed onto the too-small sofa, and several small children were on the floor. They leaped up and onto Fleet, shrieking with what Lydia could only assume was delight. Fleet hugged them and twirled them and swung one very small girl high up into the
air until she laughed so hard a stream of snot came out of her nose.

  The Yorkies were sniffing Lydia’s feet. ‘Let them sit down,’ the aunt said and the three young women jumped up.

  ‘I don’t see why…’ One of them began and then stopped with a single searing look from Fleet’s aunt.

  ‘It’s very nice to meet you,’ Lydia said, stepping forward, narrowly avoiding standing on a tiny dog. It made a startled little ‘yip’ sound even though she didn’t touch it. Traitor.

  ‘Call me Auntie,’ Fleet’s aunt said, with a wave of her hand. Lydia caught the three young women making wide eyes at each other.

  ‘Go on and fetch the tea,’ Auntie said. ‘A body could shrivel up waiting.’

  * * *

  Once Lydia was wedged on the sofa next to Fleet, had drunk two dainty china cups of tea and eaten a slice of lime cake which was sticky with syrup, she was beginning to think she might just survive this exposure to Fleet’s family.

  ‘Your daddy is Henry Crow.’

  It was a statement, not a question, but Lydia nodded anyway. ‘Yes, Auntie.’

  ‘He ought to be with your family. Leading.’

  Well that was a slap in the face.

  ‘Not that you’re not capable, child,’ she waved a hand. ‘But he shouldn’t have left his responsibility.’

  ‘Auntie…’ Fleet cut in and received a blistering look from Auntie in return.

  ‘You stay out of it, child,’ Auntie said, heaving herself upright. ‘And you. Come along with me.’

  Lydia followed Auntie down the narrow hallway. Behind one of the flimsy doors was a small room. It was the kind of size which got called ‘a lovely space for a baby’ because you couldn’t fit anything larger than a cot into it. There was a chest of drawers, the surface crowded with framed pictures, melted wax and the stubs of half-burned candles. It had the look of an altar.

  ‘That’s my sister,’ Auntie said, pointing at a picture of a smartly dressed woman with a gangly looking boy. ‘And Ignatius.’

  Lydia scanned the other pictures. She saw one of Auntie when she was younger, shoulder to shoulder with Fleet’s mother. Two pretty unsmiling women in flowery dresses. There were a couple of men flanking them. ‘Is that…’

  Her lips pursed. ‘His daddy? No. No pictures.’

  Auntie clearly wanted to say something else and Lydia waited.

  ‘I saw something,’ she said eventually. She patted her chest. ‘In here.’

  Lydia nodded to show she understood, but didn’t speak.

  ‘That boy in there.’ Auntie jerked her head in the direction of the living room. ‘He’s very precious.’

  Lydia was embarrassed to find her eyes welling with tears. ‘I know that.’

  ‘Then you should do the right thing.’

  There was a prickling sensation along Lydia’s skin and she consciously unclenched her fists. ‘And what’s that?’

  Auntie gave her a long, assessing stare. ‘Do you know what you’re doing to him?’

  Lydia wasn’t sure if Auntie could somehow sense her Crow power and the way she powered up those around her, or whether Fleet had confided in her about his increasing clairvoyance and she was putting the blame on Lydia regardless. Or, and this was very possible, that she was talking about something else entirely. The fact that Lydia was as white as her Scandinavian ancestors, perhaps? Or the fact that she was a private investigator and not good wife material. Or, maybe Auntie simply disliked the thought of Fleet attaching to anybody. She was clearly protective of her nephew. ‘I won’t hurt him,’ Lydia said. She wanted to add that she loved Fleet, but her throat had closed up and she didn’t trust herself to get the words out without seeming unhinged. Once upon a time, she had prided herself on her toughness. These days, she seemed to have lost the barrier she had kept between herself and other people. It was exhausting.

  Auntie’s expression didn’t soften. ‘I’m not saying you’ll mean to hurt him, but he’ll be hurt just the same.’

  The door swung inward and Fleet appeared, looking deeply unhappy. He shot Auntie a look which could have stripped paint from a car. ‘We’ve got to get going. Are you ready, Lyds?’

  ‘Sure am,’ Lydia said and escaped in front of Fleet.

  * * *

  Out in the car, Fleet turned in the seat. ‘I’m sorry about that.’

  ‘How much did you hear?’

  ‘Nothing. But it’s not a good sign when Auntie takes a guest away on their own. I can guess enough to know that you are probably really freaked out. I’m sorry.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lydia said, cupping his cheek. She was surprised to find she was telling the truth. There was something to be said for having a professional hit hovering over her head, it really put ‘scary’ into perspective. ‘Bring it on.’

  He kissed her before starting the engine. ‘Are you sure you’re okay?’

  ‘Your aunt is protective of you. It’s nice. And I’m not keen to start comparing family drama.’

  Pulling into the traffic, Fleet nodded. ‘Fair enough.’

  * * *

  Back at her flat, once she had eaten a restorative plate of pasta and they had shared a bottle of wine, Lydia checked in on Emma. She had to be careful not to alarm Emma with her increased contact, but the only alternative was to ask Paul and that held its own set of problems. After a moment, she did it anyway and got a fast text message back telling her that there was no cause for alarm. Well, as Paul put it, ‘her dull life is singularly unenlivened’. He added a suggestion that they meet for a drink to ‘discuss all the boring details’ which Lydia ignored.

  Curled up and preparing to sleep, Fleet breathing evenly beside her, Lydia pushed thoughts of her nightmare out of her mind. She had no intention of having a bad dream again and she told her subconscious so in firm tones. In the safety of the dark, she could admit to herself that the visit with Fleet’s family had been a little unsettling. But, she reasoned, the fact that she had dreamed about hurting Fleet before Auntie had said she would do so, was comforting. Perhaps Fleet’s aunt had a bit of the gleam that she sensed in Fleet. If she had heightened perception, then perhaps she had sensed the psychic imprint left by Lydia’s nightmare. Perhaps Lydia’s deep fears that she would cause harm to Fleet had leaked out in the presence of a highly sensitive individual. It made sense. And, as it was based on dreams and fears, it didn’t mean anything. She was in control of her actions and she would never hurt Fleet. So she could go to sleep.

  Chapter Nine

  The next morning, Lydia was woken by her landline ringing in the next room. She ignored it and was successfully staying asleep when her mobile rang. A shot of adrenaline and one clear thought – Emma – brought her to sudden consciousness and she grabbed the device from its place on the floor. It was a terse message from Maria’s assistant, requesting a progress report. The entire purpose was to remind Lydia that she was working for Maria and to rub it in as much as possible.

  Fleet was awake by this point and she updated him on her progress on finding the silver cup. It didn’t take long.

  ‘What are you going to do if you find it? Give it to Maria?’ Fleet asked once she had finished.

  ‘I don’t know,’ Lydia said, sitting up against the pillows. ‘I told her I would find it, I was very careful not to say what I would do with it after.’

  ‘Sneaky,’ Fleet said.

  ‘It’s her fault for not pinning down the wording of our agreement. It’s not like she didn’t know who she was dealing with.’

  ‘And she’s got legal training. She knows about contracts.’

  ‘Exactly,’ Lydia said, refusing to feel bad. She might have called a truce with Maria and the Silver Family, but that didn’t mean she liked or trusted them. And it didn’t erase the past.

  Fleet was silent for a moment. ‘You know there’s a good chance Alejandro took the cup with him when he left?’

  Lydia shifted to a more comfortable position. ‘Or he gave it to the government as part of his immunity deal. I
know.’

  ‘And if that isn’t the case, it might be better if you don’t find it.’

  ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Wouldn’t it better for it to stay lost? Collecting dust in someone’s trophy cabinet rather than… Well, whatever Maria wants it for. What does she want it for?’

  ‘Pride, I think,’ Lydia said. She could imagine Maria displaying it in her office to remind people of her heritage. The ultimate status symbol. ‘Although it is chockful of Silver power. Maybe she could use that somehow. I honestly don’t know enough about their potential.’ The Family lore said that the Silvers used to be able to convince a person to do anything they wanted, just with the power of speech. They could make a person stroll off a building, thinking they could fly. They could suggest someone didn’t need their property, car or cash, and they would just hand it all over with a smile. If Maria was brought up on those bedtime stories, maybe she thinks the cup is the key back to glory.

  ‘Have you got any leads?’

  ‘Not yet. I’ve spoken to the expert at the British Museum and seen the pictures and description from before it went missing. Not surprising, she was pretty cagey about how it got nicked. Doesn’t look very good for the museum security.’

  ‘I can look up the report, if you like?’

  ‘I don’t want to waste your time. I know where it ended up, after all. I need to know who has it now, not who took it back in the day.’ Lydia sat up and began pulling on her clothes. All this chat had just reminded her of how little progress she had made. She had to get going. ‘There is something I hoped you could look into for me.’

  Fleet had sat up behind her and he dropped a kiss onto her bare shoulder. ‘What’s it worth?’