I hissed at him, showing my teeth, and his eyes went wide in fear. He tried to pull away, but I dug the knife in deeper and he froze. I held his eyes for a slow count of five then let him go suddenly. He scrambled back to the door. “You shouldn’t have done that,” he said, trying to hold up his dignity. “This is mine, see? You shouldn’t . . .”
I stared at the man without blinking and he trailed off, then backed away into the shadows. I lay still, following his movement through the futures as he clattered his way down the stairs. Once I was satisfied he was gone I got up.
I’d slept through the day, and yellow-gold light was shining through the newspaper covering the grimy windows. For some reason the afternoon felt shadowed and dark, even through the sunlight; I tried peeling back the newspaper to get a better idea of the time, but the light stung my eyes. I drew back into the shadows, waiting for darkness.
I’d been out of contact and I knew I ought to be checking in, but I felt a strange reluctance to talk to anyone; it felt as though it could be dangerous. Miserable as it was, the abandoned pub was safe, and in the end I stayed there for hours, while the sun set and the sky turned from blue to purple to grey. Only after night had fallen did I leave, and even then it was only hunger that forced me from the building. There was a cluster of shops at the end of the road but I didn’t want to draw the attention of shopkeepers; the summer night was too busy and it made me nervous. Clusters of men and women passed by in the darkness, and it felt as though all of them were looking at me. It was too much and I turned down a small residential street, used my divination magic to find an empty house, and broke in through the back door.
Once I’d stolen a makeshift meal from the kitchen, I finally took out my phone. As soon as I placed it on the kitchen table and thumbed the button the screen lit up with a dozen messages. My mist cloak really messes up incoming signals—usually I don’t wear it long enough for it to matter, but by now I’d been wearing it for more than a day straight. Most of the messages were from Luna and Anne and at a glance they sounded worried, but I didn’t want to answer them. The last message was from Caldera and it asked me to call her back as soon as possible. I touched the screen to return the call and sat in one of the kitchen chairs, waiting. Caldera answered on the fourth ring.
One of the dubious privileges of being a diviner is never having to wait for bad news. Usually conversation is unpredictable—there’s too much randomness and free will to see more than a few seconds ahead. But when someone’s already decided what they’re going to tell you, then every possible conversation goes the same way. The only question is how long it’ll take to get to the point. “Verus,” Caldera said.
There was a new note in Caldera’s voice, one I hadn’t heard before. She sounded . . . subdued. “Feeling better?” I said.
“What? Oh.” Caldera brushed it off. “I’m fine. You?”
“I’m alive,” I said. I didn’t really want to talk. “So?”
Caldera didn’t answer. “You said you were taking this to the Council,” I said. “You said to stay out of it and keep my head down.”
“Yeah,” Caldera said after a pause. She didn’t sound happy, and in a sudden flash of insight I wondered how often she had to do this in her job. Give bad news and then walk away . . .
“So?”
“I filed my report yesterday. It had a full account of our encounter with Will and the Nightstalkers and their attack. I recommended the Nightstalkers be brought in for violation of the Concord.” She paused again. “I got the reply back this evening.”
I listened silently. “It’s been kicked upstairs,” Caldera said. “There’s a Council committee scheduled to look into it.”
“Did they give you a reason?”
“I had some questions about the decision,” Caldera said. From her tone of voice it sounded like it had been more than that. “They said . . .” She hesitated. “They’ve decided the Nightstalkers aren’t an immediate threat to the Council or to Light or independent mages.”
I was silent. “I see,” I said at last.
“I put in a request for a task force. I haven’t had an answer.”
“Weren’t you in the middle of investigating Richard when the Nightstalkers tried to kill you?” I said. “You know, the ones who ‘aren’t an immediate threat’?”
Caldera was silent for a moment. “I’ve been taken off the Richard Drakh case,” she said. “I’m on medical leave.”
“Medical leave.”
“I didn’t request it.”
“Thought you said you were fine.”
Caldera didn’t answer.
“Don’t suppose you know where these orders of yours come from, do you?” I said.
“I’m not authorised—”
“Don’t worry, I can guess. From the Council, right?”
“What makes you so sure?”
“Does it matter? It’s not like you were going to do anything about it.”
Caldera was silent again. I’d expected her to snap at me, but she didn’t. In a way it actually made it worse; I wanted her to get angry so I could yell at her. “There’s a mage on the Council called Levistus,” I said. “I don’t have any proof, but this is his style. No risk, no involvement. He never gets his hands dirty, he just gives the orders and stays at a distance.”
“I’m sorry,” Caldera said.
A part of me wanted to shout at Caldera, blame her for all the Council’s hypocrisies. Whoever had given Caldera those orders must have known that the Nightstalkers were out for blood. The Council had a thousand times the resources of Will’s group—they could crush them without even trying. But they weren’t going to, even after the Nightstalkers had blatantly violated the Concord, because the Council only enforced the Concord when it suited them.
But an older, wiser part of me knew that it wasn’t Caldera’s fault. And deep down, had I ever really expected anything different? The Council has never helped me before and I’d never really believed that they’d start now. If I was going to live through this it would be because of myself and my friends, and nobody else. “Forget it,” I said. “You have to follow your orders.”
“What are you going to do?” Caldera asked.
I thought about it for a second. “I don’t know,” I said at last. “Good-bye, Caldera.” I hung up before she could reply.
That night seemed to last a long time.
I didn’t have any appointments to keep and for now at least I’d lost my pursuers. I was free to go wherever I wanted—except that I couldn’t think of anywhere to go. For the first time in years, I didn’t know what to do.
Ever since Will had attacked me in the casino I’d been trying to figure out a way to end this. I’d tried talking to the Nightstalkers and I’d tried fighting them and I’d tried running from them. I’d tried searching Rachel’s memories for the truth, and I’d tried relying on Caldera to fix things for me. And every single one had been a failure. Things weren’t any better than they had been at the start—if anything they were worse. I’d nearly been killed half a dozen times, and the only reason I was still alive was that my friends had put themselves at risk to save me. Anne and Variam and Luna and Sonder had been in danger and were still in danger, and it was because of me.
I know I come off as arrogant sometimes. When you can see the future it’s easy to pretend you know everything, and to other people it probably looks like I do. But being able to see the future doesn’t make you any smarter or wiser than anyone else, and it doesn’t stop you making stupid mistakes. It lets you know what a problem is and how big the problem is, but it doesn’t give you the power to do anything about it. When it comes down to it, the reason I act all-knowing isn’t because I think I know everything. It’s because I know I don’t, and I’m desperately trying to stop my enemies from figuring that out. And if you keep up an act to fool other people, sometimes you end up fooling yourself as well.