“Mercury doesn’t deal with me directly at the moment. I hear the Hunters were close on her tail in Switzerland and since then she’s cut herself off from everyone except Pilot. She’s being extremely careful. I’ve already sent a girl to Pilot for Mercury. A nasty little thing but very bright and fast to learn. Mercury will be looking for the best to replace Rose, now that she’s gone.”
“She’s not gone. She was shot. Killed by Hunters,” I say.
“Alas,” Isch replies but her mouth is a wide, bright red smirk. “Still, as ever, disasters bring many business opportunities.”
“Well, I hope you make a tidy profit,” I say.
“Could you tell us where Pilot is?” Van asks. “We too intend to do some business with Mercury.”
Isch regards Van and then says, “In the Pyrenees, a small hamlet beyond Etxalar. The last house at the top of the road.”
“Thank you.” Van picks up a Turkish delight, which is a pale rose color, the same as her suit.
We’re in the car twenty minutes later.
Van slides on her seat belt and says, “Let’s go.”
Nesbitt is typing into the satnav as the car screeches away from the curb.
“You trust Isch?” I ask. “She wouldn’t just send us into a trap? She seems motivated by money.”
“She’s a fine Black Witch. She wouldn’t sell us out.”
“She sells girls into slavery.”
“The girls are free to go if they wish.”
“They’re not free if they have nowhere else to go, if they have no one to help them, to look after them.”
“You want to go back, buy them, and care for them?”
I don’t reply.
Van turns and looks at me enquiringly.
“I don’t think I’m the answer to their problems.”
Van smiles. “No, indeed.”
Pilot
It’s well past midnight when we arrive in the tiny mountain village. The journey here took nearly six hours but we haven’t stopped. We left the car in a different city, I’ve no idea which one, and Nesbitt traded it in for a new 4x4, but we’ve left that at the bottom of the hill with Van, as even that’s conspicuous here. There are few cars in this area and all of them are old and battered. Gabriel, Nesbitt, and I are now walking through the village and up the hill. Pilot’s house is the furthest and there is a faint yellow glow from a light in a downstairs window.
Van thinks her presence will be a problem. She and Pilot have had disagreements in the past, though she’s not mentioned that until now. But anyway this negotiation is down to Gabriel, as he knows Pilot and she trusts him.
I’m going ahead and doubling back to the others as they’re so slow.
“You’re like a puppy off the lead,” says Nesbitt. It’s dark but he’ll be able to see the finger I raise to him. “Take it slow, keep an eye out. Can’t be too careful these days,” he mutters.
We arrive at the small house. Nesbitt knocks gently on the door and we wait.
And wait.
And wait.
A shadow passes across the light inside. There are no sounds.
“Gabriel?” A quiet voice but not from the door—from behind us.
We turn as one and there’s a woman standing in the path, an incredibly tall woman with black hair almost down to her knees.
Gabriel takes charge, spreading his arms wide and saying, “Pilot, it’s good to see you.”
She doesn’t smile but she leans toward him and they exchange two kisses on the cheeks, which seems promising. Gabriel speaks in French, introducing us, I think. And that’s when I sense that Nesbitt and I aren’t going to get any kisses, ever. She can barely hold back a snarl from me and looks like she wants to spit at Nesbitt. Then she flounces off; only flounces doesn’t do justice to her stature. We follow her slowly round behind the house, Gabriel ahead, while I say to Nesbitt, “She looks like she can’t stand to have us near her.”
“Don’t take it personal. She’s just a snob. Some of them are like that. Van’s unusually open-minded, and young Gabriel is too, of course. Isch is just interested in business. You’d be surprised how liberal a lot of Black Witches are but some . . . some are snobs like Pilot. She can’t stand mongs.”
“Mongs?”
“Mongrels. Half Bloods. She only likes pure Blacks.”
“I bet being half White is worse in her eyes than being half fain.”
Nesbitt nudges my shoulder. “Don’t worry, mate, I don’t mind you.” And he puts his arm round me. “Us mongs should stick together. All for one and one for all.”
I push him away and he laughs.
Behind the house there’s a patio area screened by vines with a lit firepit in the center. It looks like Pilot wasn’t asleep. Or maybe she sleeps here. We sit on large, dusty cushions that surround the fire—or rather Pilot and Gabriel do. Nesbitt and I are relegated to the outer circle on threadbare rugs.
Pilot calls inside and a girl appears. She’s thin and her hair is a straggly, mousy mess, almost alive with head lice. She scowls when she sees us and seems to barely listen to Pilot’s instructions before going back inside.