Marked

6

It was two days later.

The communicator nestled in my ear chimed. ‘Hi, Alex,’ Luna’s voice said. ‘You free?’

‘For a little bit,’ I told her. ‘What’s the news?’

It was 10.30 p.m., and I was in Shepherd’s Bush, perched on the roof of a block of flats in an apartment complex. The roof was bare of shelter, and a wind was blasting across it from east to west, blowing my hair into my eyes and doing its best to send my coat flying up into the night sky. Even on a summer night like this, it wasn’t a comfortable place; in winter it would be horrible. But what the roof lacked in comfort, it made up for in elevation, and I had an excellent view down over the fence to the industrial park next door … and to the shapes hiding in the shadows within.

‘I’ve heard back from Stephen,’ Luna said. ‘You remember that adept I was telling you about? Well, he finally got me an invite. We’re going out for drinks tomorrow night.’

‘That sounds more like a date than a recruitment.’

‘Give me some credit,’ Luna said. ‘Yeah, he tried to make it sound like that, but it’s definitely a sounding-out. For one thing, there are going to be other people there, and from the sound of it they know more than Stephen does.’

‘If they know more, isn’t there a chance they’re going to recognise you?’

‘I don’t advertise that I’m a journeyman, you know,’ Luna said. ‘What, did you think I’d hung up a sign behind the counter? It’s like you said, there isn’t much communication between adepts and the Council. They’re not going to know every mage by name, much less some mage’s apprentice. As far as they know, I’m just another adept.’

‘Mm,’ I said dubiously. It sounded sketchy to me. Yes, it wasn’t likely that a random group of adepts would be particularly up to date on Luna’s status regarding the Council. But Luna was my apprentice, and I wasn’t exactly a nobody any more. If these guys really did see themselves as members of a resistance group, then they’d probably be going to at least some effort to check out potential recruits, and if they did that, it wouldn’t take much digging for them to find out who Luna really was. In which case, Luna might find herself a much less welcome guest than she’d been expecting.

On the other hand, Luna’s pretty capable of taking care of herself these days, and she’s comfortable with – and able to take advantage of – a higher level of risk than would be the case for me. ‘Make sure you have some backup, okay?’

‘Yes, Mum,’ Luna said. ‘So how’s your stakeout going?’

‘Well, there’s good news and bad news,’ I said. ‘Good news is that I’m pretty sure I’ve found Cinder. Bad news is that apparently I’m not the only interested party.’

‘I know this is a crazy thought,’ Luna said, ‘but maybe if you want to talk to Cinder, you could just call him?’

‘Believe it or not, that did occur to me,’ I said. ‘I’ve got an emergency contact that I was using last year. When I tried it, I got “the number you have dialled has not been recognised”. And when I tried to trace him, I ended up at a place in Bethnal Green that by a funny coincidence just happened to have burned down last month.’

‘Think that might be something to do with the guys you’re looking at right now?’

‘Let’s just say I’m getting the feeling that I’m not the only one having trouble with uninvited guests these days.’

‘In which case he’s probably not going to react that well to you turning up at his front door.’

‘Probably, but I’m kind of on a clock here,’ I said. ‘Talisid’s authorised me to contact Onyx, but he and Bahamus aren’t going to wait around for ever. And if I’m going to walk into Onyx’s mansion, I need an in.’

‘Doesn’t sound to me like where you’re going is any safer, but your call,’ Luna said. ‘Your beacon on?’

‘Yup, and Anne’s standing by,’ I said. I’d been tempted to bring her along, but there are diplomatic advantages to being alone. ‘Feel free to hang out with her if you feel like giving me some backup.’

‘You’re lucky I don’t have much of a social life,’ Luna said. ‘Just make sure to call before you get shot this time.’

‘What do you mean, “this time”?’

‘You heard.’ The connection closed with a click. I shook my head, turned my attention back to the industrial park ahead of me, studied it for a moment longer, then jumped down to the fire escape.

Divination is handy for getting into places you’re not supposed to be. I made my way across the street, up onto a low rooftop, through the razor wire and down into the industrial park without really thinking about it. Most of my attention was on the shadowy forms I’d glimpsed moving into position earlier. Without my vantage point I couldn’t see them any more, but I could track them through the futures in which I encountered them. From looking at what would happen in those futures, I’d already established that they weren’t friendly.

The interesting thing was that four of the presences had the solid, reactive future lines of constructs … and pretty simple constructs too. They were also even more hostile than the human members. Having constructs in the area under kill-on-sight programming strongly indicated that whoever these people were, they weren’t interested in a peaceful resolution.

The bad news was that while I hadn’t been detected so far, I couldn’t see any realistic way to make it into the warehouse without changing that. The building had only a limited number of entrances, and all of them were within clear view of at least one observer. I’m pretty good at avoiding notice, but I can’t turn invisible in the way that illusionists or radiation mages can. If I wanted to get inside, someone was going to see me.

But they don’t know that I’ve seen them first. Let’s take advantage of that.

I turned right and began working my way around the warehouse, aiming for the east side. Twice I had to stop and freeze, letting the shadows hide me as a watcher got a little too close. The night was warm and breezy, and the rushing traffic from the nearby A road hid the sounds of my footsteps. I turned a corner and down an alley. To my right was a line of garages; up ahead was a single, unmarked door.

The figure hiding in the shadows saw me instantly, and I felt violence flicker in the futures. The orange glow of the lights silhouetted me but left him hidden, and I kept to a steady pace. I passed his hiding place without slowing and came to a halt in front of the door.

I put a hand to my pocket and searched through it, taking out something and studying it with unseeing eyes. Beneath my jacket, my shoulders were tense. If this guy decided to just shoot me, I was going to have to move very fast. I was wearing my armour, but at this kind of range …

The futures spun, then settled. There was a very quiet whisper of movement, just barely audible over the wind, as he slipped out of the shadows and moved up. I didn’t react as he stepped in behind me and lifted an arm to bring the butt of his gun down on the base of my skull.

The best way to take someone out in a fight is to catch them by surprise. The second best way is to make them think they’ve surprised you. As the blow fell, I spun right. The gun whistled past my ear as I kicked the man’s leg out from under him. He staggered, going down to one knee, and before he could recover, my stun focus discharged into his neck. Energy flashed through him and he jerked and went limp. The gun clattered to the ground.

I picked up the pistol – it was an automatic of some kind – and engaged the safety as I studied my attacker. As I got a better look at him in the orange light, I downgraded him in my mind from ‘man’ to ‘boy’. He couldn’t have been much more than twenty, but he was wearing body armour and that gun hadn’t been loaded with blanks. I didn’t recognise him, but I hadn’t really been expecting to.

Better not hang around. I stepped to the door and knocked, the sound echoing through the metal. My stun focus is a simple life effect: it’ll put someone down, but for no more than a few minutes, five or six if you’re lucky. Charging it takes a while and I didn’t want to be around when this guy woke up.

Twenty seconds passed, then thirty. I knocked again, louder. I knew that the people inside could hear me, but …

The futures shifted and I looked ahead. Shit. Someone had heard something. Two people were approaching from behind the garages; worse, they were bringing one of the constructs with them. I hammered on the door more loudly. Still nothing.

No time to be subtle. I leaned in close to the door, pitching my voice to carry. ‘Kyle! It’s Alex Verus. I’m not with these guys. Open the door!’

I heard someone call out a question from behind. ‘I know you can hear me,’ I snapped at the door. ‘What, you want proof it’s me? Last time we met was outside Richard’s mansion. Anne spotted you by your missing leg. She didn’t realise it was you at first, because she wasn’t around when you lost it and when Deleo and Cinder killed every single one of—’

The door jerked open and I found myself staring down the barrel of a very large revolver. The person behind the gun was in his early twenties, lean and dangerous-looking with close-cropped hair, and we stared into each other’s eyes for about two seconds. Then he lowered the gun, and I darted inside and helped him slam the door.

The inside of the warehouse was dark and smelled of oil and metal. Distant shouts drifted through from outside, but Kyle ignored them as he slammed bolts across the top and bottom of the door and turned up the corridor. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’ he said curtly.

‘I would have been just as happy to talk over the phone,’ I said to Kyle’s retreating back. ‘Except someone doesn’t answer their voicemail.’

‘Sure, we’ll just have a public number for our personal phones,’ Kyle shot back. ‘And while we’re at it, we can add a note saying “PS, please don’t trace us”. You been paying any attention to what’s going on?’

Kyle is an adept, an ex-member of a vigilante group called the Nightstalkers who went after Deleo and me a few years back. It worked out badly and Kyle was one of only two survivors. Somehow or other, by the time I saw him next, Cinder had recruited him. I had no idea what the two of them had been up to since.

We passed through another metal door, which Kyle again bolted behind us, and out into a wider room. Fluorescent lights shone down from above, metal tables held papers and weapons and a wooden stairway led up into what looked like an attic. A heavily built man in body armour glanced up from where he was working on a gun and scowled at me. ‘What the fuck are you doing here?’

Where Kyle is lean and tough, Cinder is big and tough. He’s a Dark fire mage and an old enemy, now sometime ally. We don’t exactly drop around for tea, but the fact that neither Cinder nor Kyle had attacked me indicated that they were still willing to treat me as more or less on their side. ‘Looking for you,’ I said. ‘What’s with the goons?’

‘Pyre,’ Cinder said briefly and looked at Kyle. ‘How long?’

‘Maybe five minutes,’ Kyle said.

Cinder gave me a scowl. ‘Long as you’re going to stick your head in, you might as well make yourself useful. What’s the count?’

‘At least six humans,’ I said. ‘Seven counting the one I knocked out at your back door; he’ll be up by now. And four constructs. They looked like the same anthroform ones that Deleo makes.’

Cinder grunted. ‘In-built spells?’

‘Didn’t get close enough to check,’ I said. ‘Is there a reason you’re not going out there to fry them?’

‘This isn’t the first time Pyre’s come calling,’ Kyle said. ‘His new constructs are fire-resistant.’

‘Ah,’ I said. That was not such good news. Constructs are dumb as rocks, but hard to kill. The only really reliable way to get rid of them is with massive firepower, and I don’t carry that sort of thing around. Cinder does, but if his spells weren’t going to affect the things …

The sound of shattering glass echoed faintly through the warehouse. ‘Here they come,’ Kyle said.

Cinder nodded and moved to the room’s main doors. Kyle turned and walked back to the one we’d entered by. Their movements looked practised, as though they didn’t need to talk to know where the other was. ‘Hey,’ I called to Cinder.

‘We’re busy,’ Cinder said without looking.

I sighed. Screw it. ‘You want some help?’

‘Kyle,’ Cinder ordered.

I turned to see Kyle pull a gun out of thin air with a flicker of light. Kyle is a space magic adept and his particular trick is dimensional storage, pulling items into or out of a small spatial pocket that only he can reach. From what I’ve seen, the main thing he uses it for is weapons. ‘That dinky little pistol isn’t going to do shit,’ Kyle told me as he set the gun down on the table.

‘It’s not mine,’ I said, walking over. The weapon on the table looked … strange. The curving magazine and stubby shape made me think of a sub-machine-gun, but the magazine was huge – thicker than the gun itself – and the barrel was short and wide. A folding stock completed the weird design. ‘What is it?’

‘Saiga-12,’ Kyle said. ‘Ever used a shotgun?’

‘The double-barrelled kind.’

‘This is semi-auto. Safety is here, lever is here. Ten-round magazine, double-ought buckshot.’ Kyle pulled out two more magazines and set them down next to the gun. ‘You keep pulling the trigger, it’ll keep firing, but the recoil is a bitch so aim after each shot.’

‘The guy out there was wearing body armour.’

‘Doesn’t matter. You hit someone centre mass with this, he’s not getting up any time soon.’

‘And the constructs?’

‘Yeah, that’s the tricky bit, isn’t it?’ Kyle said. ‘Try not to let them grab you.’

I felt a flash of fire magic from somewhere off to the left, and a fraction of a second later a hollow boom echoed through the building. ‘Front door’s gone,’ Kyle called.

Cinder gave me an irritated look. ‘Stop standing in the open.’

That sounded like good advice, so I grabbed my stolen pistol and my borrowed shotgun and moved into the cover of the stairway. As I did, I looked into the futures where I ran past Cinder. Through the double doors, into another wide open room, around a corner and— ouch. ‘Three of them coming in,’ I told Cinder quietly. ‘Construct in the lead, two guys behind. They’re shooting on sight.’

‘So are we,’ Cinder said.

The warehouse fell silent. I crouched behind the stairs, listening. Kyle was somewhere behind watching the back door, but I was focused on the futures of the people ahead of us. They were coming closer, moving more cautiously now as they spread out into the warehouse interior.

There was the quiet scuffle of a footstep from one room over. I glanced at Cinder to see that the big man wasn’t moving. He was standing just behind the wall, out of sight of anyone looking in, and he was staring at the wall as though he could see through it. From looking through the futures I could tell that more were coming.

It struck me suddenly that both of the men in this room were ones I’d met while they were in the process of either threatening to kill me or actually trying to kill me. Now I was crouched down behind them holding a semi-auto shotgun, and both of them seemed okay with that. My life is weird.

I suppose the fact that I can make deals with enemies is a big reason why I’m still alive in the first place. Still, you have to wonder why these two trust me. What are those guys waiting for, anyway? They have to know we’re—

There was a shout from the direction of the other room, and Cinder’s hand made a quick snapping motion. Something small and glowing shot through the door and disappeared, and there was a dull red flash and a whoom. Warm air rolled over me, and I heard a scream.

Shouts and gunfire sounded from the next room over. A bullet ricocheted off metal with a clang and went whickering somewhere over my head. I heard the bang bang bang of pistol fire, then it stopped.

The room was still once more. ‘Give us the fucking gauntlet!’ someone yelled from around the corner.

Cinder didn’t move.

Heavy footsteps sounded from the next room. Cinder leaned around the corner again; I felt another spell go off, and there was a whuff sound. Smoke started to seep in through the doors, and I heard coughing and choking.

There was the echoing crump of an explosive from the other side of the room, and I looked around to see Kyle drop something and pull out a gun that looked like a king-size version of my shotgun with a drum magazine. He slid open a hidden gun port in the door and started firing through it with a chunk-chunk-chunk.

I couldn’t see anything to shoot at, and I was less than confident of accomplishing much if I could, so I looked ahead. It’s hard to see far in combat, but I did my best, skipping over the details of the fighting to the pale, threadlike futures beyond. Cinder and Kyle looked all right – probably – but I caught a ghostly image of someone attacking me. How? If they’re not getting past … oh shit. ‘Cinder!’ I called. ‘They’re coming in from upstairs!’

‘You’ve got a gun, haven’t you?’ Cinder said without turning.

‘I knew you’d say that,’ I muttered, and ran up the stairs.

The sounds of battle echoed from behind me, the booms of Cinder’s fire spells overlaid by the heavy report of Kyle’s shotgun. The stairs came up into a narrow corridor; there were doors on either side, but my divination told me that the one on the end was the one I wanted and I darted through.

The room looked like someone had tried to convert an old office into a bedroom but hadn’t done much other than throw a mattress on the floor and call it a day. Faded carpet lined the floor, and clothes were piled half in and half out of a suitcase. The only furniture was a tiny table with a handgun and a small framed picture, but all my attention was on the window at the far end. It was open, and a figure was just in the process of climbing through. It was man-shaped, wearing ill-fitting clothes, and its head came up to stare at me with blank eyes as I lifted my newly acquired weapon and fired.

Kyle had been right about the recoil. The shotgun kicked back into my shoulder; I hadn’t taken a proper stance and the flicker of pain told me I was going to have a bruise. I had taken time to aim, and the shotgun blast caught the construct right in the chest. It staggered, and I put a second shot into its torso that sent it falling out the window.

It would have been nice if that fall had been all the way to ground level, but I already knew that the window led straight out onto a roof. Worse, the construct wasn’t alone. I advanced cautiously, picking my way around the mattress; I didn’t make it even halfway there when I heard gunshots and shards of glass pattered to the floor. I changed direction, crossing the mattress and coming to a stop before I showed myself. Whoever was controlling that construct, they hadn’t changed its orders, which meant that it was going to be trying to get in again right about … now.

The construct reappeared in the window. Now that I was close I could see the ways in which its disguise wasn’t quite perfect: the features were slightly off, as though made by a sculptor who didn’t know his trade, and the movements stiff and clumsy. A bloodless hole in the neck marked where one of the pellets had gone high, and as the eyes locked onto me it reached out for my head.

I’d had time to brace properly this time, and I fired three times into the construct’s face from less than two feet away. The shotgun made a roaring pboom-pboom-pboom, and the thing’s face disintegrated, sending it sprawling back onto the roof.

More gunfire came from out in the darkness, and I ducked as the window shattered, glass raining around me. From looking into the futures where I poked my head out, I could see that the construct was lying on the rooftop, and this time I’d managed to do some real damage. Its face was a ruined mess: one eye had been mangled completely and the other was staring blankly up at the sky. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I’d destroyed it, but I had to give Kyle credit. This was going much better than the last time I’d tried shooting a construct.

There was a moment’s pause. I could hear shouting from below, but all my attention was on my battle up here. The construct wasn’t getting up, at least not yet. I looked ahead to see what would happen if I moved out on the roof and to the right. The gunshots had come from straight ahead, so there might be a chance to …

Dammit. There were two people out there, not one. The second guy was hiding to my right, around the corner of the building, ready to fire. I didn’t fancy my chances of advancing against both of them.

But then, I didn’t need to. These guys didn’t seem to have anything heavier than the constructs, which meant that Cinder ought to wipe them out if they got close. I only needed to hold my position.

The futures shifted. I looked ahead and … oh. I was about to be blown apart in fifteen seconds. I tapped the wall to check … good, bricks. That should be strong enough. I placed the shotgun on the floor, stood up, waited, then stuck my hand out.

The grenade came sailing through the broken window and I caught it one-handed, tossed it back out next to where the construct was lying, then dropped.

The explosion made my ears ring. Shrapnel pockmarked the ceiling, but the grenade fragments that would have hit me were stopped by the wall at my back.

I kept still and waited, looking ahead to see what would happen next. The interesting question was whether the other guy understood what had just happened. I suspected he probably hadn’t. When throwing a grenade, there’s something of an instinctive reflex to duck, so I doubted my would-be killer had kept his head sticking up long enough to watch me catch the thing and throw it back. More likely he’d decide that he must have missed, in which case he might try again.

He did.

I threw that one back too.

The second explosion seemed louder if anything, and a sharp pain went through my eardrum. I heard someone shout something; my ears were ringing too much to make out the words but he didn’t sound happy. I didn’t bother answering; instead I just picked up my shotgun and waited. Your move, guys.

There was another pause. There’s a lot of waiting in battles: when one wrong move can get you maimed or killed, people are understandably reluctant to make hasty decisions. From down below I heard another explosion, followed by more gunfire. I didn’t like the idea of someone coming up behind me, but I couldn’t take my attention off the window long enough to check.

The futures moved as the guys out there made a decision. There was a scraping sound and I knew the construct was getting back up. From a glance through the futures I saw that they were sending it through the window again, and they were following up behind it to cover it this time. Probably they were planning on using it as a shield against my fire, with the intention of shooting me if I exposed myself.

It was a tricky situation. I could keep blasting the construct, but that wouldn’t really accomplish anything. I had a dispel focus in my right pocket that could take the thing out, but it was a touch range weapon and I didn’t like the idea of grappling with a construct while I took fire from the guys behind. With darkness and the element of surprise I could probably destroy the construct before they could land a shot … but probably isn’t definitely, and I don’t like taking chances I don’t need to.

I still had some space to work with. I ran back through the room, jumping the mattress. I heard a shout from outside and knew they’d seen me, but I kept going out of the door. Once I was out in the corridor I stopped, flattened myself against the wall and held still.

Glass crunched from inside the room as the construct clambered its way through the window once again. It was slower now, the battle damage taking its toll. Crunch, crunch, crunch as shards of glass broke under its feet, then there was a pause and I knew it was turning, scanning the room.

Silence. I knew that if I poked my head out I’d see the construct but nothing else. They knew I was outside the room, but they didn’t know where. The last they’d seen, I was running, so there was a decent chance they’d assume I’d still be running. In which case their next move would be to send the construct further in while they moved up to the window …

There was the crunch of footsteps as the construct started moving again. Got you. I waited for two seconds, then came around the corner, gun raised.

The construct was less than five feet away, and now that I got a good look at it I could see just how badly mangled it was. The shotgun and grenades had shredded its face, and holes pockmarked its clothes where shrapnel had been driven into the body. But it was still moving, and while one eye was gone, the remaining one locked onto me as I came into view. Shooting a construct doesn’t work very well: they don’t have organs, and they can’t bleed out or suffer from shock. In theory if you maul the body badly enough it’ll break the animating spell, but you’ll usually run out of bullets before happens. The construct’s hands came up as it stepped towards me, ignoring the threat of the gun.

I wasn’t aiming at the construct. I sighted over its shoulder just as a figure appeared in the window behind, and for the first time I got a look at the guy who’d been trying to kill me. He was wearing a bulletproof vest and a ski mask, and his eyes had just enough time to go wide before I pulled the trigger.

The shotgun blast went past the construct’s left ear and took the man behind him in the chest. He dropped out of sight.

The construct advanced towards me, but I wasn’t in a hurry any more. I backed down the corridor at a leisurely pace, letting the construct follow, and switched the shotgun to my left hand as I searched in my pocket for my dispel focus. Once I’d found it I let the construct catch up. The construct reached for my neck and I ducked under its arms and drove the focus into its body. My dispel focus is a long sliver of silvery metal, rather like a screwdriver without a handle. It’s a close-range weapon, but it’s good at what it does. The construct spasmed, its hands clutching at empty air, then the life seemed to go out of it and it crumpled to the floor. The futures in which I had to deal with being strangled vanished.

And there we go. I looked ahead to see that the man I’d shot was being dragged away from the window by his buddy. I could have finished them off, but I was pretty sure they weren’t coming back, which meant they weren’t a threat any more. Besides, I didn’t really want to kill anyone if I could avoid it, even if the little bastard had tried to drop a grenade on me. I headed downstairs.

By the time I made it back to the ground floor the battle was winding up. The door Kyle had been guarding was open, and another construct was lying on the ground; this one had apparently taken enough of a mauling that it had been put out of action. Kyle was nowhere to be seen, but I could sense fire magic nearby and I followed it through the main doors.

Cinder was in the next room over. Crates were scattered around, some of them burning, but all of his human adversaries looked to be either dead or fleeing. The only enemy still on its feet was one of the constructs, and it was missing an arm. It came lumbering towards Cinder, reaching out with its remaining hand.

A blade of searing red light formed at Cinder’s fist. He stepped in close to meet the construct and rammed the blade through its body and out the other side. The construct jerked as Cinder dragged the blade up through the thing’s torso, cutting it almost in two. An acrid scent of burned hair filled the room and the construct collapsed to the floor, the huge split in its body glowing red, clothes smouldering and igniting from the heat. Cinder turned to shoot me a look.

I nodded down at the construct. ‘Thought they were fireproof.’

‘Fire-resistant,’ Cinder said curtly. ‘What happened up top?’

‘One dead construct.’

‘You kill the handlers?’

‘No.’

Cinder grunted and turned away. I thought about asking what had happened to the ones down here, but there was a putrid-sweet whiff of burned flesh in the air and I had a feeling I already knew the answer.

Footsteps sounded behind and I turned to see Kyle jog in through the back door. ‘Lost them,’ he said briefly. ‘Winged one, but I didn’t want to push too close.’

‘More coming?’ Cinder asked me.

I concentrated. It was hard, because Kyle and Cinder kept moving around – unlike my friends, they haven’t learned the drill for when I’m path-walking. ‘Nothing immediate,’ I said after a minute. ‘You should be clear for ten to fifteen minutes, but I can’t give you any promises past that.’

‘Long enough,’ Cinder said. ‘Kyle.’

‘I got it, I’m on vacuum duty,’ Kyle said. ‘Hey, Verus, give me my gun back.’

I handed over the shotgun. ‘I kind of want one of my own now.’

‘Chat later,’ Cinder said curtly. ‘We leave in ten.’

After seven minutes, Kyle had finished packing. By nine minutes and thirty seconds, we were stepping through a gateway. Staging points took up another five minutes, gating to a place where we could sit and talk took three, getting seated in the restaurant took another two and it took six minutes more for our food to arrive.

‘I can’t believe you still have an appetite,’ I told Cinder.

We were sitting in a McDonald’s somewhere in western England. Through the windows I could see dark skies, the shadows broken up by the white and red lights of cars zooming by on the A road. It wasn’t the first time I’d met Cinder at the restaurant here. Maybe it was his preferred meeting place for business negotiations. Then again, maybe he just liked the food.

Cinder shoved another handful of fries into his mouth. ‘Why wouldn’t I?’

‘That frigging smell,’ I said. I was the only one without a tray in front of me; just the thought of eating turned my stomach. I don’t know whether burned human flesh really does have a different scent from burned animal flesh or whether I’m just imagining it, but one thing I know for sure is that it lingers. I could still smell the stuff if I let myself think about it. ‘It doesn’t bother you?’

Cinder shrugged.

‘I mean, I’m not exactly squeamish,’ I said. ‘But that particular putrid smell—’

‘Do you mind?’ Kyle said. He was holding a Quarter Pounder and giving me a look. ‘I’d like to keep this down.’

‘How can you eat?’

Kyle grimaced. ‘You get used to it.’

Kyle had cleaned out everything valuable or useful from the warehouse, scooping it all into his dimensional storage like a gigantic vacuum cleaner. Watching him was like watching one of those stage magicians who pulls out a never-ending stream of flower bouquets and coloured handkerchiefs, except in reverse. I’d never really considered the applications of that kind of space magic, but now that I thought about it, I could see how big an advantage it was. One of the big problems with being hunted is logistics: running away is fine in the short term, but you still need a place to store your stuff and sleep, and that makes you vulnerable. But if you can carry everything with you, then moving your base becomes a ten-minute operation. That explained why I hadn’t seen any wards on the warehouse: why bother to ward a place when you’re just going to abandon it as soon as you’re found?

What it didn’t explain was why Cinder was being hunted in the first place. It’s true that being a Dark mage isn’t exactly a safe way of life – if you aren’t willing to deal with the occasional assassination squad trying to kill you in your sleep, you’ve got no business being on the Dark side of the fence in the first place – but this seemed excessive even for him.

‘So who were the goons?’ I said. I wasn’t worried about being overheard; no one was close enough, and the hum and clatter of the kitchen behind the counter would have drowned it out anyway. A fast-food restaurant is a pretty good place if you want to discuss something private. ‘You sounded like this wasn’t your first run-in.’

‘Third,’ Kyle said.

I looked at Cinder to see that the Dark mage had a mouth full of fries. He made a vague waving motion at Kyle, apparently happy to let the adept do the talking, so I turned back to him. ‘You said a name I thought I recognised back there,’ I said. ‘Pyre. Are we talking about the same guy? Dark fire mage based out of London, used to hang out around Dagenham … ?’

‘That’d be him.’

‘Great,’ I said sourly.

‘Not a fan?’

‘He’s a piece of shit,’ I said bluntly. I’m normally a bit more circumspect when it comes to expressing my opinions of other mages, but one nice thing about Cinder is that I don’t have to guard my words much. ‘Why’s he got his sights on you guys? I’m pretty sure you aren’t his type.’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Well,’ Kyle said, ‘if we’re sharing stories, I want to know how you met the guy. He another acquaintance from your old days?’

‘Not that old.’ I sighed: Cinder was looking at me inquiringly and I knew I was going to have to share. ‘I ran across him about three years ago. There was a girl I knew, an adept, new to the country. She’d let Pyre take her out a couple of times, and was just starting to figure out that that had been a mistake. I did some looking into it, found out that other girls who did that and then tried to break things off afterwards tended to disappear. Enough of them that it was a pattern. Tried to get the Council interested, but it was the usual story. No breach of the Concord.’

‘So what did you do?’

‘Managed to help her,’ I said. ‘Couldn’t help the others.’

‘Others?’

‘A lot of others,’ I said shortly. It had been one of my more bittersweet memories. The girl had been called Xiaofan, and I’d managed to save her, and that had been something I could be proud of. But I hadn’t been able to save Pyre’s other victims, and even at the time I’d known he was just going to keep on doing the exact same thing. I still wonder sometimes whether I was right to walk away. The thing was, if I hadn’t walked away, if I’d tried to stop him, then realistically speaking, there were only two ways it could have gone. One of us would have finished up in the ground, and I hadn’t been at all sure that I would have been the one left standing. So I took my winnings and went home, and left Pyre to carry on doing what he did. It hadn’t been my fight … but then, that’s how people like Pyre always keep getting away with it, isn’t it? The ones who can stop them won’t, and the ones who want to stop them can’t.

‘Mm,’ Kyle said. ‘Well, I guess it’s comforting to know that he’s a complete arsehole to everyone.’

‘Which brings me back to my question of why you,’ I pointed out. ‘I mean, no offence, but I’m pretty sure neither of you are that attractive.’

‘Shows how much you know.’

Cinder gave Kyle a look.

‘Fine, fine,’ Kyle said. ‘The reason Pyre’s been chasing us all around London like some demented British version of Wile E. Coyote is because he wants something we’ve got.’

‘What’s the something?’

Cinder put down what was left of his burger and shifted position, adjusting himself so that his back was to the other people in the restaurant. Then he peeled the glove off his left hand.

I raised my eyebrows. The glove had looked bulky, but as Cinder took it off I saw that it was actually thin: the bulk had come from what it had been covering. Under the glove was a gauntlet. It looked to be made out of some kind of blue scale armour, with articulated plates covering the fingers and wrist. Dark stones were set in a line behind the first finger, and the flexible parts of the gauntlet underneath the plating seemed to be made out of black mail. That glove of Cinder’s must have carried some sort of shielding spell, because now that it was removed I could sense magic radiating. The sheer power of the aura told me what sort of item this was, even if I hadn’t recognised it. ‘Okay then,’ I said.

‘You recognise it?’ Kyle said.

‘Yeah,’ I said. The description of that gauntlet was in the file currently sitting in the drawer in my office in the War Rooms, the one that listed the imbued items stolen in the raid last year. It was called the Dragon’s Claw, and it was a powerful defensive item designed for magical combat. The Council had wanted it back quite badly, judging by the number of words that they’d underlined in its description.

‘This isn’t going in your report,’ Cinder told me.

‘Yeah, I don’t think the Council needs to know about this little detail.’ If they did, the first thing they’d do would be demand that I go after Cinder and get it back.

Cinder nodded and pulled on the glove again. I felt the magical aura wink out as the leather covered the scales. ‘So that’s why Pyre wants you guys so badly,’ I said. ‘What’s the deal, all the other Dark mages on Richard’s team got a big hefty imbued item and he’s feeling left out?’

‘He wasn’t even on the team in the first place,’ Kyle said. ‘Did some bullshit minor stuff, and now he’s claiming he was cheated. As though anyone would have taken a nut like him on any kind of serious job.’

‘Yeah,’ I said, frowning. Something wasn’t quite adding up. ‘Though I’m kind of surprised he’s got the balls to pull something like this without backup. I mean, don’t get me wrong, the guy’s dangerous, but he’s a predator through and through. He goes after easy targets.’

Kyle and Cinder looked at me.

‘Oh,’ I said, catching on. ‘He does have backup. Who’s his friend?’

Cinder swallowed the last bite of his burger. ‘Onyx.’

‘Oh,’ I said. Well, that changes things.

‘You up to date on that whole situation?’ Kyle asked.

‘I know Onyx and Richard aren’t getting on,’ I said. ‘Heard it was something to do with Onyx wanting to take Morden’s place.’

Kyle snorted. ‘Yeah, like that’s going to happen. The whole thing started right after the raid. You know how Onyx was there? Well, he was ordered specifically not to do that, because it’d implicate Morden. Drakh was pissed and when the items got parcelled out, Onyx didn’t get one. Onyx didn’t like that one bit.’

‘Mm,’ I said slowly. ‘And he made friends with Pyre since then?’

‘Yeah.’

‘Sounds like he’s trying to gather his own cabal to rival Richard’s,’ I said. Two mages isn’t much of a cabal, but I suppose Onyx figured he had to start somewhere.

‘That’s about the size of it.’

‘Um,’ I said. That implied a few things. Cinder is connected to Rachel, and Rachel is Richard’s Chosen, so by having Pyre go after Cinder, Onyx was attacking Richard in an indirect sort of way. These sorts of proxy battles are common when mages fight – a personal confrontation is risky, so they work through agents instead. It was more subtle than I’d have expected from someone like Onyx, but maybe he was testing Richard, seeing how far he could push him. If Pyre managed to hurt or kill Cinder, and Richard did nothing, maybe Onyx would take that as a sign that he could keep going.

Of course, subtle or not, it was still stupid. Onyx is not remotely in Richard’s league, and the fact that Richard hadn’t responded to the younger mage’s provocations just meant that he had bigger fish to fry. If Onyx ever made it to the top of Richard’s priority list, he’d be splattered like a bug on a windshield.

Cinder finished off his last few fries and looked at me. ‘You haven’t said what you want.’

‘I need to go set up a meeting with Onyx,’ I said. ‘Was hoping you guys could give me an in.’

Cinder raised an eyebrow. ‘You want to talk to him?’ Kyle said. ‘Why?’

‘Can’t really go into the details, sorry.’

To those of you not familiar with Dark mages, it might seem a bit odd that I was asking Cinder were for something like this. After all, if what Kyle and Cinder were saying was true, Pyre and/or Onyx had just tried to kill them. A Light mage would look at what had just happened and conclude that the whole thing was a bust and that they should go find someone else, or approach Onyx directly.

It sounds logical, and it’s also completely wrong. The fact that Kyle and Cinder were in a state of open war with Onyx and Pyre didn’t make any difference at all. It goes back to the whole thing about lines of communication. Dark mages don’t respect Light mages, and if they get a message from one, the most likely thing they’ll do is ignore it. If they get a message from another Dark mage, particularly from one whose strength they respect, they’ll listen. If anything, the fact that Cinder had survived several attempted assassinations would make Onyx more inclined to listen.

Kyle frowned. ‘Maybe I’m a bit out of date, but doesn’t Onyx hate you? Like, really hate you? To the point where he was trying to kill you in the Vault just because you stayed in range?’

‘Yes, he does, and yes, he did,’ I said shortly. The Council was really going to owe me for this. ‘Could you put me in touch? I really don’t want to just walk up to Morden’s mansion and knock on the front door.’

Kyle looked at Cinder. ‘I guess we could try …’

‘Sure you want to?’ Cinder said.

‘Don’t really have a choice.’ It was tempting to just stay the hell away, but that wouldn’t really accomplish anything except running out the clock. ‘I know you aren’t exactly on speaking terms, but what’s the guy’s mental state like at the moment? I mean, aside from the “being a psychopathic killer” part.’

‘Aside from that, right.’ Kyle snorted. ‘What, you’re wondering whether he’s sane enough to talk to?’

‘Pretty much.’

‘Hasn’t gone crazy yet,’ Cinder said.

‘He’s a psycho, but he’s a rational psycho,’ Kyle said. ‘If you can give him a good reason not to attack you, he won’t. It’s just that there has to be a reason, because this guy’s spent a long time using excessive amounts of violence on anything that annoys him or gets in his way, and it usually works. So if he thinks it’ll work on you …’ Kyle shrugged. ‘You get the idea.’

‘So how do you deal with him?’ I said. ‘That space magic trick of yours is handy, but I don’t think it’d slow down someone like Onyx.’

‘It wouldn’t, and that’s why I stay the hell out of his way,’ Kyle said. ‘Especially after …’

‘After?’

Kyle shut up, and I looked at him curiously. ‘Especially after what?’

‘You going to tell him?’ Cinder said. There wasn’t any expression on his face, but all of a sudden, I had the odd feeling that he was amused.

‘It doesn’t matter,’ Kyle snapped.

‘I could tell him.’

‘You don’t need to tell him!’

‘Okay,’ I said, looking between the two. ‘I think I’m missing something here.’

Kyle shot Cinder a dirty look and turned back to me reluctantly. ‘So, Onyx might have a kill-on-sight order out on me if I go back to his mansion.’

‘Because you hang out with Cinder?’

‘Besides that.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Besides that?’

‘Yes,’ Kyle said. ‘Can we drop it?’

‘No, no, this I have to hear. What did you do, steal his silverware?’

‘Something like that.’

I cocked my head. ‘Except that if you’d stolen something he wouldn’t be waiting for you to show up, he’d be hunting you down to get it back. Sounds more like you tried to steal his silverware.’

Kyle glowered. ‘I was trying to get someone out of the mansion and it didn’t work. Drop it, okay?’

‘Someone’, huh? Just out of curiosity, I sorted through the futures in which I mentioned all the names of people I knew who might have been connected to Onyx. To my surprise, I got a hit after less than a dozen tries. ‘Selene? Really?’

‘Told you he’d guess it,’ Cinder said.

‘Jesus.’ Kyle rolled his eyes. ‘This? This is why people hate diviners.’

‘So you were trying to do a rescue,’ I said, and looked at Cinder. ‘Didn’t realise he was the hero sort.’

‘Still playing white knight,’ Cinder said.

‘Oh, screw you both,’ Kyle said.

‘Sure you don’t want to tell me the story?’ I asked.

‘No,’ Kyle said shortly.

I looked at Kyle thoughtfully. Selene had been one of the slaves at Morden’s mansion that I’d met back when I’d been an involuntary guest there. I’d hardly spoken to her and I didn’t remember much except an impression of dark hair and wary eyes. I hadn’t even known she was still alive – being a slave to a Dark mage is a hazardous job. Apparently Kyle had decided to stage a rescue and it hadn’t worked out.

The parallels were a little too close for comfort. Back when I’d been dealing with the adept leading Kyle’s group, Will, I’d been aware of the similarities between him and me. Now it was looking like he hadn’t been the only one. I hoped Kyle’s path wouldn’t land him in the same place mine had.

I was also glad Kyle hadn’t asked me for help, and vaguely ashamed that I was glad. I really didn’t need any more problems right now. ‘So,’ I said, turning back to Cinder. ‘How long will it take for a connect?’

‘Few days,’ Cinder said. ‘Week at most.’

And if Onyx said no, I’d have to figure out a way to get the guy to listen to me without getting killed on sight. Well, one problem at a time. ‘Anything else?’

Cinder shook his head. ‘He gets in touch, he’s interested. He doesn’t …’ He shrugged. ‘Good luck.’