I looked her up and down, trying to place her.
‘You smoke there,’ I finally said.
‘I always meant to talk to you. Funny old life.’ She cocked an eyebrow at Nick. ‘If she’s a resident of my section, she ought to be reporting to me, not Binder.’
Nick mirrored her smile. ‘Where’s that written?’
‘Don’t test me, Vision. What do you think Binder would say if I sauntered into I-4 and employed a voyant? A rare one, at that.’
‘You had every opportunity to ask Dreamer to work for you, if you’ve seen her. Jaxon got there first.’
‘Ah, so it’s about timing now.’
Maybe I shouldn’t have spoken.
‘We’ll talk about this later,’ Nick said. She grunted. ‘We have a rogue poltergeist to deal with first.’
‘Yes, thanks to someone’s attempt to fill his pockets without my knowledge. Yet again,’ Ognena Maria said dryly, giving Didion a sidelong glance. He bristled. ‘And I understand Binder has decided that you’re just the people to capture the aforementioned poltergeist.’
Nick went on calmly: ‘We think it might be after someone it killed in life – Anne Naylor.’
‘That’s why I’m here. Anne resides in this section – my section.’ The wind knocked a strand of hair into her eyes. ‘Anne is … unusual. She’s a poltergeist, but she seems harmless. Trust me, I’ve tested the theory, or I wouldn’t have let her stay where she is.’
‘What else do you know about her?’
‘Only that she’s a tortured soul. It’s as if her gentle personality is coming into conflict with her anger about her violent death. Consequently, all she does is wail, all day long. Good thing most of us can’t hear it.’ She folded her arms. ‘I have never known Anne to leave Farringdon station. If you’re going to net Metyard, I would go there and keep watch. Wait for her to hunt down her victim.’
Nick nodded. ‘And we have your permission to do that?’
An arch smile played on her lips. ‘I have some conditions.’
‘No conditions.’ Nick never sounded unfriendly, but his tone invited no argument. ‘Didion agreed that Binder would have the right to both spirits in return for—’
Maria cut across him. ‘Vision, I’ve always liked you, but don’t try to pretend that your deal with Didion had any legitimacy – I wasn’t born yesterday. Hector has strong-armed me into accepting the auction house, and I’ve embraced it as best I can – I even bid on spirits myself, when it takes my fancy – but I am mime-queen here, and I’ve never given anyone permission to sell or move Anne Naylor. As both of you are well aware.’
Didion turned up his nose, while Nick dropped his gaze and I tried to look neutral.
‘Now,’ Maria said, softer, ‘I agree that it would be best to keep Hector out of these proceedings. He lives by one rule: follow the money. Sarah Metyard would be worth a significant amount of it, and if he gets involved, none of us will see a penny.’
Nick blew out a breath. ‘Okay, we’re listening. What are your conditions?’
‘This hunt will begin in my territory, so I think it’s only fair that I should be one of the parties that benefits. If you can catch Metyard, Binder transfers ownership to me – but you can claim Anne, free of charge. And nobody says a word to Hector.’
‘Metyard is more valuable.’
‘You have no right to her,’ Maria said. ‘Anne’s a famous spirit. You could sell her for a tidy sum.’
Nick looked frustrated. ‘So we’d essentially be catching Metyard for you. I don’t see how that benefits us. Or what right you have to Metyard, given that she wasn’t found on your turf.’
Ognena Maria smiled. ‘None whatsoever,’ she said, ‘but Anne is on my turf, and she’s your best chance of capturing Metyard. If you don’t agree to my demands, I’m afraid I’ll have to revoke your right to be here. And you’ll walk away with nothing.’
I looked at Nick, who looked none too happy. ‘I’ll need to phone Binder,’ he said.
‘Go ahead. I’ll wait.’
He touched my back before stepping away to make the call, leaving me with the strangers. Voyant strangers.
There was a brief silence.
‘So,’ Ognena Maria finally said, looking me up and down, ‘you’re Irish. Interesting.’
‘You don’t sound English,’ I said, a question in my tone.
‘Bulgarian. We’re both in Scion’s bad books.’ She tilted her head.
‘I’ll confess to being intrigued by you, Pale Dreamer. I’ve never met someone with an aura quite like yours.’
‘A curiosity indeed,’ Didion said, with disdain. ‘Binder is quite the hoarder of treasures.’
‘Last I checked,’ I said, ‘I wasn’t a collectable.’
His mouth popped open.
‘A quick tongue and an interesting aura.’ Ognena Maria grinned. ‘What are you, kid?’
My muscles were tensing. Jaxon had told me to hide the fact that I was a dreamwalker. Fortunately, Nick was already back. I moved a little closer to him.
‘Binder agrees,’ he said heavily. ‘He claims the right to bind Anne Naylor at his leisure – but if you sell Metyard, he wants the opportunity to buy her privately. No auction.’
‘Agreed. I’ll organise the sale myself.’ Ognena Maria shook his hand, cutting off Didion’s protest with a look. ‘You’re welcome to stay in my territory for as long as you need. If you want somewhere to gather your thoughts, go to the teahouse on Turnmill Street. The owner will make sure no Vigiles bother you.’
‘Thank you,’ Nick said. ‘I’ll send word about our progress. Didion,’ he added, ‘I have a few questions about how and where you found Metyard. If you don’t mind.’
Didion sniffed. ‘It seems I have no choice.’
Nick patted him on the back and led him into the derelict church. As I followed, Ognena Maria caught my elbow.
‘A little advice for you, Pale Dreamer. From one stranger in this country to another,’ she said quietly. ‘You seem like a nice enough kid, but you’re also from the highest order of clairvoyance, which means some people will put you on a pedestal. Not everyone in this syndicate gets that luxury. There’s a hierarchy. An order to things.’
I listened, watching her face. There was no trickery or malice in her expression.
‘Being in this syndicate will toughen you up, but don’t let it turn you to stone. Don’t get too big for your boots. And always question what you’re told. Remember what it’s like to be an outsider, a nobody. Don’t look down on the people who end up at the bottom. Give a bit of coin to the gutterlings. Stay humble. And keep your mind open. You might find it repays you one day.’
She looked almost sorry as she spoke. As if she had seen something pure and new that could only be tainted by the world, no matter how much wool she wrapped around it.
‘Thank you,’ I said, and smiled a little. ‘I’ll try not to become a stone-cold killer, at least.’
A short laugh escaped her. ‘That’s a start.’ She grasped my shoulder. ‘Remember, if you ever get tired of Binder’s bad temper, you can always do some work for me on the quiet. I run the voyant parts of the Old Spitalfields market. Ask for me any time.’
‘I’ll keep it in mind,’ I said, already knowing I wouldn’t. Moonlighting was illegal in the syndicate, and I doubted Jaxon would show mercy if he found me doing it.
‘Good.’ She gave my shoulder a squeeze and strode away. ‘See you around, sweet.’
It didn’t take long for Nick to wring all he could out of Didion – where Metyard had last been seen, where she had been going. We needed somewhere to plan the next stage of the hunt, so we took a cab to the teahouse in Turnmill Street, which was conveniently close to Farringdon tube station.
‘I don’t understand,’ I said to Nick. ‘What’s the point in us doing this if you just promised Metyard to Maria?’
He looked grim. ‘Jaxon’s keen for us to continue. Anne will be worth money, too. And Jaxon would still get Metyard for a
good price; Maria will honour that.’
It was warm and sweet-smelling inside the teahouse. When we said we were friends of Ognena Maria, the owner gave us a table by the bay window, where we sat on velveteen stools.
The urge to pinch myself when I looked at Nick remained as strong as ever. When you form an image of someone in your childhood, it inevitably blurs and fades over time, but Nick looked almost exactly the same as he had at our first meeting. A little more care-worn; he was clean-shaven now, and wore pomade in his hair in the Swedish style – but otherwise, seven years had hardly touched him.
‘Hungry?’ Nick said.
I shed my coat. ‘Very.’
We took our time perusing the menu, which listed no fewer than forty types of tea. Nick went for ginger and apple, I went for orange blossom, and we ordered a few appetisers to share.
‘Let’s recap what Didion said.’ He took out his notebook. ‘He discovered Metyard at the site of Tyburn, where she was hanged. He hired an amateur binder, who failed to capture her.’
‘Didion is a binder, isn’t he?’
‘Yes, but Jaxon’s right about his cowardice. He never does a hands-on job if someone else can do it for him.’
‘And the attempt to capture her is what set Metyard off?’ I said. ‘She’d never gone on a rampage before?’
‘No. Like I said earlier, spirits don’t tend to pose a threat if they’re left alone – but most poltergeists really don’t like to be approached by voyants, let alone bound. It can spark a dangerous reaction. Like startling an animal.’ He rubbed the bridge of his nose. ‘Only a very skilled binder – like Jaxon – could have snared Metyard. Didion should have known better.’
‘Does he always dress like he’s fallen out of an eighteenth-century novel?’
Nick laughed, warming me to my bones. ‘He’s a character, I’ll give you that.’ He took a phone out of his pocket. ‘Let’s see what Eliza has turned up in her research.’
He waited until Eliza answered, then leaned in closer to me, so I could press my ear to the back of the phone. I could hear his breath, feel the warmth of his arm pressing on mine.
‘I’ve found two places that were significant to Metyard in her life,’ Eliza said. ‘The first, of course, is Tyburn, where she and her daughter were hanged.’
‘Turns out that’s where Didion found Metyard,’ Nick said. ‘Any others?’
‘Shit. Well, we’ve had a report that she was in Bruton Street earlier, in our section – that’s where the Metyards used to live – but she’s long gone, apparently. I’ll get back to the files.’
His sigh flickered through my hair. ‘Okay. Let us know if you find more.’
‘Don’t have too much fun without me.’
He hung up. I leaned back into my seat.
‘So no leads yet,’ Nick said. ‘Let’s hope she finds something useful soon.’
‘What if she doesn’t?’
He put his notebook away. ‘Well, my theory is that Metyard will be searching for Anne. Our best option is to wait for her, as Maria suggested – so, stake out Anne’s haunt in Farringdon until Metyard comes. We’ll wait for the commute to die down a little first, though.’
As soon as he finished speaking, a voyant waitron brought the food: eggs poached in milk on crisp, butter-gold toast, with wafer-thin lace cookies and cranberry muffins to follow. I tucked in, famished.
While we ate, I checked my watch. The commute would be over in about forty minutes. Forty minutes with Nick to myself. The thought made my palms tingle.
‘What happened to Metyard’s daughter – Sally?’ I said. ‘Is her spirit still around?’
Nick looked thoughtful. ‘Interesting. I haven’t heard of anyone finding Sally, but … she might be drawn to her mother’s presence, if she is still in the æther.’ He glanced up at me as he sliced into his toast. ‘We haven’t been able to talk much since you joined the gang. I’m sorry I haven’t been around,’ he said gently. ‘My day job is demanding, and Jaxon works me to the bone when I’m back.’
I tucked a flyaway curl behind my ear. ‘Would you ever quit the day job?’
He shrugged. ‘Not unless I have to. Jaxon doesn’t like me working for Scion, but he does like my salary.’
‘You share it with him?’
‘Here and there. Jax is an old friend.’
I sipped my tea, savouring its delicate flavour. ‘An old friend with expensive tastes.’
‘Ah, you noticed.’ He smiled. ‘Well, he doesn’t get it all. I send some to my parents, too.’
‘What are their names?’
His smile widened at my curiosity. ‘Rune Nygård and Bryndís Ingadóttir – Bryn, to her friends. My mother’s from Iceland originally, but she’s lived in Sweden for most of her life. They’re both voyant.’ He dropped his gaze. ‘They’re good people. I miss them.’
Lightly, I said, ‘Anyone special back in Sweden?’
His chuckle was a bit hollow. ‘No. No one here, either, in fact. Jax doesn’t let us have relationships.’
I had already been made aware of this. Jaxon had taken me aside and been quite clear: no liaisons (his word, not mine). I was only allowed to spend one night with another person – no more. I was to be devoted to the Seven Seals and nothing else.
‘What about you?’ Nick said. ‘Nobody special?’
I gave him a wry smile. ‘My heritage isn’t considered an attractive feature here. Took me a while to learn to mimic an English accent, and my surname was hard to hide.’
His own smile faded. ‘I can’t imagine.’
‘I survived.’
‘I’m glad.’
Gooseflesh weaved its way up my arms.
I had to get this under control. Like he said, Jaxon didn’t allow relationships. Besides, Nick was kind to everyone, even people he didn’t like. I wasn’t special.
At school, nobody had looked at me with the same softness he did. Quite the opposite. As the only Irish girl in the place, I had been ostracised at best, harassed at worst. One of the students from the neighbouring boys’ school had once asked me out, but I had known it was part of a scheme to humiliate me and told him I was busy that night. And every night following. One of my few victories during my school years had been watching the smug look slide off his face when he realised the Irish girl had rejected him.
I had paid for it later, of course. My sparks of defiance had always come back for me.
‘Tell me how you met Jaxon,’ I said. Suddenly this conversation was stirring the dust on some very dark memories.
He poured some more tea. ‘I came to Britain when I was seventeen. I was due to transfer to London the next year, to start my job officially with Scion; I thought I’d get to know the place first. When I first arrived, I had a vision of Jaxon. It was like the æther was telling me to find him, but I didn’t know where to start looking … then one day, I was walking through Trafalgar Square, and there he was. Just like that. He stopped dead when he saw me. It was almost funny, how quickly he stopped – like he’d walked into a brick wall.’
I smiled with him. I couldn’t imagine Jaxon losing his composure like that.
‘We went to a coffeehouse. He told me he had never seen a clairvoyant with a red aura, not once. I felt I could confide in him about my vision. It was clear that we were meant to meet.’ His voice softened a little. ‘It turned out that Jaxon had a vision of his own. He wanted six talented voyants to join him to make up the Seven Seals. Preferably rare ones, like me. Like you. I agreed to be his mollisher, to live a double life. The rest is history.’
‘It’s a good friendship-origin story,’ I admitted, ‘but not quite as good as ours.’
‘No, true.’ He winked. ‘I hope Jax finds another mollisher soon. It’s too much, on top of my job. As you saw with Maria, I’m his voice in the syndicate. He doesn’t get his hands dirty.’
‘Can’t Eliza do it?’
‘He wants someone rarer as his protégée.’ He scraped up the last of his meal. ‘He likes you, yo
u know.’
‘He has a strange way of showing it. And I think I’m in his bad books after I refused to make the tea this morning.’
‘Oh, I think that was exactly why he let you come out today. You showed your claws. Jax doesn’t like outright disobedience,’ he said, ‘but he does like spark. He would have been disappointed if you’d kept on doing the drudgework.’
I raised my eyebrows. ‘You think he was waiting for me to speak up?’
‘I do,’ he said. ‘I know him. He wanted you to take control of your place in the gang. Show him you’re a fighter. Let him see that you’re ambitious, and you’ll go far.’
The reassurance took root in my chest and blossomed into pride. I should have known that Jaxon was waiting for me to crack – after all, he hadn’t wanted an automaton to order around. He had wanted a criminal, a rebel. Now I felt like a fool for biting my tongue all these months.
A squadron of armed night Vigiles strode past the teahouse, clad in their black-and-red uniforms and helmets. We both tensed, but they didn’t look in our direction.
It took us a while to unwind enough to talk again. We started on the lace cookies and oven-warm muffins. He told me about the village of Mölle, where he was born. He had often returned to it with his parents and his little sister, Karolina, before her death. They would spend their summers fishing and swimming. Generally being a family.
It wasn’t an image I recognised. It had been years since my father and I had done anything but eat dinner together, and even that formality had been limited to weekends once I had left home.
I hung on to Nick’s every word. When he talked about Karolina, his voice strained at the seams. I didn’t ask how she had died. I hadn’t earned that sort of trust from him.
‘Scion killed her,’ he said, of his own accord. As if he had seen the question on my face.
An old hatred combusted behind my ribs. It was a latent feeling, a beast I kept restrained most of the time, but it had rankled for a decade, eating at me from within – the knowledge of injustice.