“Managed to avoid Deleo, didn’t manage to avoid the Nightstalkers. Sonder was there and Caldera got hurt but we made it out alive.”
“Sonder was there? Why— Never mind. Are you okay? We didn’t know what had happened until we got Anne’s message.”
“I’m fine. Is Anne there too?”
“Yeah, we’re all at my flat. Where are you?”
“Hiding.”
“Um . . .” Luna said. “Okay.”
“There’s been a change of plans,” I said. “I’m not going to meet up with you.”
There was a moment’s silence. “Why not?”
“Right now I’m using my mist cloak to shake them. That won’t work if I’m with you guys. And Will and Ja-Ja have attacked a Keeper now. The Council is going to have trouble ignoring this.”
“Wait, so that’s the plan?” Luna sounded very sceptical. “Hope the Council sorts it out?”
“I haven’t given up on Elsewhere,” I said. “I was interrupted last time and I’m going to go back tonight. For now there’s not much you guys can do. Just stay together and stay safe.”
Luna took a while to answer. “All right,” she said at last. She didn’t sound happy, but she didn’t argue. “Be careful, okay?”
We spoke for a little longer, then I talked briefly with Anne and Variam. Even over the phone, speaking to them made me feel better, like warming my hands at a distant fire. At last I said my good-byes and hung up, then looked at the phone. I wasn’t happy either, and I knew why. It was because I hadn’t really been telling Luna the truth.
I hadn’t been lying. Waiting for tonight and the next visit to Elsewhere was a good plan, and it made sense to at least give Caldera a chance to see if she could keep her promise, even if deep down I didn’t really believe that the Keepers were going to bail me out. But there was a second reason I was staying away from Luna and Variam and especially Anne, and it was because of a quiet dark voice growing at the back of my mind telling me that there was only one way this was going to end. I wasn’t yet willing to follow that line of thought all the way through, but I knew better than to ignore it.
I stayed in my flat as the sun dwindled in the western sky, haunting the empty building like a ghost. The police didn’t return and neither did the Nightstalkers, and I spent my time digging through the ruins of my bedroom, salvaging what I could. There’s something unpleasant about having your home attacked, a kind of violation. I’ve had my flat invaded by various intruders before, including an assassin construct, two or three different Dark mages, and a particularly unfriendly shapeshifter, but none of them had wrecked the place so badly. Despite the damage I would have liked to sleep in my own flat, but common sense advised against it and once the sun had set I left my shop. I wondered how long it would be before I’d come back again.
Being able to look into the future gives you a certain amount of protection against being killed in your sleep, but as last night had demonstrated it’s not reliable. The basic problem is free will; once someone’s made their plans to kill you it’s easy to see them coming, but if they don’t decide on the details of their assassination attempt until after you’ve gone to sleep then it gets iffy. Until this was over I wasn’t going to be sleeping in any of the places I’d been attacked in. In fact, I wasn’t going to be following any of my usual routines at all.
This is the reason being hunted sucks so much. If you know who’s chasing you and how, it’s not difficult to throw off pursuers. The problem is doing anything else. I couldn’t run my shop, or live in my flat, or hang out with Luna or Anne or Variam or Sonder, or follow any of my usual patterns, because if I did I could be traced. Most people can get away from hunters in the short term—it’s the long term that trips them up. Even if you’re being hunted, life goes on: you have a job to do, places to go, and a home to live in. All those things make you predictable, and sooner or later someone will use them to find you. I couldn’t keep hiding forever. Right now, though, I just needed somewhere to sleep.
The Royal National Hotel is next to Russell Square, a gigantic concrete-and-brick building that sprawls over an entire city block. It’s the largest hotel in London and feels like a small airport, right down to the people sitting on the carpets in the lounge with luggage piled around them. My mist cloak drew stares but I was too tired to care. The reception staff didn’t even blink; either they were too well trained or they’d seen so many weird guests that nothing fazed them anymore. Probably both.
My room was on the second floor with a view out over the flagpoles of the inner courtyard. I didn’t undress or even empty my pockets; I just dropped on the bed and closed my eyes. I was asleep inside two minutes.
Chapter 10
The plaza was filled with white light, doves pecking on the stones and roosting in the branches of the line of trees in the distance. I was sitting on the same bench, looking up at the glowing sky, and in the distance I could hear the rustle of wind. “You know,” I said, “each time I go back to Elsewhere it feels like I get here faster.”
“You do,” Shireen said from next to me. She was sitting on the bench; I didn’t know if she’d been there before I spoke, but I’d known she’d be there after.
“What’s changed?”
“Finding your way in Elsewhere is just like anything else,” Shireen said. “The more you do it, the easier it gets. Are you ready to go back?”
“One thing,” I said. “I’m seeing Rachel’s memories when I do this, aren’t I? What’s it like for her? Can she feel anything?”
“Maybe,” Shireen said. “I think to her it just feels like another dream.”
“Could she tell the difference? Find me while I’m there?”
Shireen hesitated. “I’m not sure.”
“You’re not very good at being reassuring, you know that?”
“Sorry.”
I wanted to ask more, but I knew this would only get harder the longer I waited. “All right,” I said. “Let’s do it.”
Shireen nodded and extended her hand. I took it, feeling the touch of her skin—
I was back in the girls’ room in Richard’s mansion, but something was different. I couldn’t put my finger on what it was, but somehow I knew that this memory was from the end of my time in Richard’s mansion, after I’d tried to rescue Catherine but before I’d escaped.
The mission to America had changed things for the four of us. In our first year we’d competed, but there had always been a vague sense that even if we might not like each other we were still on the same team. After the fight in the canyon things were different. Tobruk had always been dangerous, but killing Matthew had made him worse; it was as if there wasn’t anything holding him back anymore. Shireen was on edge, angrier. I hadn’t realised it at the time, but the same things that had gotten to me must have been bothering her too. Only Rachel had stayed the same. Right now she was sitting on the bed with her back against the wall, reading. It was daytime and light was streaming in through the open windows.
Shireen was in an armchair, her elbow on one of the armrests and her head propped up on her hand. She was studying an old clothbound book and frowning, and as I watched the frown kept getting deeper. “This is really messed up,” she said at last.
Rachel didn’t answer. “Rach?” Shireen said. “Have you read this?”
“Hmm?” Rachel said without looking up.
“Listen to this,” Shireen said. “It’s a study about mages who Harvested someone. Are you listening?”
“Uh-huh.”
“‘Mages in Category A appeared to complete the ritual successfully with no significant side effects. Mages in Category B displayed symptoms of mild psychological consequences. Mages in Category C displayed symptoms of moderate to severe psychological consequences. Mages in Category D were unavailable for study for reasons including: (a) subject location unknown, (b) subject unwilling to participate in study, (c) subject deceased in subsequent altercation before sufficient data could be obtained. It has been suggested that a significant fraction of mages who should have been assigned to Categories B and C may have been incorrectly assigned to Category A due to lack of relevant data . . .’” Shireen looked up. “Rach? Are you listening?”