Amaurotic workers and shoppers were giving it nervous looks. Our underworld was invisible to the people around us, but it was dangerous to linger. Eliza blew out a breath, reached into her coat, and took out a key. A label hung from it, reading BACK DOOR in Jaxon’s elaborate cursive.
We opened the courtyard gate and passed the blossom tree, which had been stripped bare by the winter. In the hallway, we stamped the snow from our boots. As Eliza stepped on to the first-floor landing, her muses flew in and swirled wildly around her aura. Pieter was particularly overjoyed, bouncing around in the ?ther like a firecracker.
‘Guys, it’s okay,’ she said, laughing. ‘Oh, I can’t believe you’re here – I thought Jaxon had taken you!’
I left them to get reacquainted. ‘Hey, Phil,’ I said, when he did a celebratory twirl around me. Pieter gave me a sullen sort of nudge before he returned to his beloved medium.
They couldn’t come back with us. Jaxon had long since bound them to the den, and unless we could find and scour away the blood he had used to tie them here, they were trapped.
On the next floor, I paused outside the door to my old room, feeling as if I had wandered into a museum. When I set foot in it, I found it devoid of everything I had squirrelled away over the three years of my employment. My precious, lovingly curated chest of antiques and curiosities from the black market; the bookshelf full of blacklisted literature and records – all gone. Even the bed was missing. The painted stars on the ceiling were the only evidence that someone had ever lived in here.
An aura brushed against mine. I turned sharply. Jack Hickathrift was standing in the doorway, dressed in a poet shirt that was open to the waist. One hand had been on the knife at his belt, but he let go of it at once.
‘Underqueen,’ he said, with a deep bow. ‘Your pardon. I thought it might be an intruder.’
‘I feel like one.’
‘I’m sure. This must be very strange for you.’ He opened the door wider. ‘Please, come through.’
He led me into the adjacent room, which had been Jaxon’s office. Everything was still in its rightful place. I took a seat on the edge of the chaise longue, while Jack sprawled on the couch, leaving the mime-lord’s chair empty. ‘Do I hear another guest downstairs?’ he asked, just as Eliza sidled into the room, pursued by her muses. ‘Ah, the famous Martyred Muse. I’ve heard many tales of your talent from the market.’ He held out a hand for hers and kissed it. ‘May I offer you both a drink? I found a very fine brandywine at the Garden.’
Eliza sat beside him. ‘Sounds intriguing,’ she said, smiling at him.
Jack raised his eyebrows at me, but I shook my head. He observed Eliza with interest as he reached for the bottle.
‘Now,’ he said, ‘what can I do for you, my queen?’
‘I’d like an update on what’s been happening in the section.’
‘Of course.’
‘First – has there been any sign of the White Binder?’
‘None,’ he said. ‘I highly doubt I’d be alive if he was still anywhere close.’
I cleared my throat. ‘What about two remaining Seals?’
At this, Jack pursed his lips. He poured Eliza a generous amount of brandywine.
‘When I came to the section, I found them in this building. I offered them shelter, as you requested, but Nadine refused, and Zeke had no choice but to go along with it. Fortunately, he persuaded her to leave without violence. She said they were going to find the White Binder.’ He passed Eliza the glass. ‘It seems Nadine was the one who plotted the destruction of the Juditheon, spurred on by those who see her as Jaxon’s rightful heir. They were trying to attract his attention, to let him know that he still had loyalists in the citadel.’
That was why Didion and I had been the targets. We were the living symbols that things did not always go Jaxon’s way. I thought of the graffiti on the wall outside this den.
‘It seems clear now that this last-ditch attempt to summon him failed.’ Jack motioned to the vacant chair. ‘According to my sources in the Garden, the small movement has since collapsed. And now there are no more Seals in I-4, you have nothing more to fear, my queen.’
Nothing more to fear from Jaxon’s supporters. And a little less to fear from Terebell.
‘Thank you,’ I said. ‘It seems like you have everything – and everyone – under control.’
I stood to leave, as did Eliza. Jack kissed her hand again, lingering for a little longer than before. ‘It was a pleasure to meet you,’ he said silkily. She left with another winning smile.
Terebell would be pleased to know that there was no more threat from Jaxon’s loyalists, and that the last of the Seven Seals had gone – I had at least obeyed her on this – but there was nothing else to celebrate. If Nadine and Zeke had gone to Jaxon, they were already in the Rephaim’s clutches.
As I made to leave, Jack held up a finger and reached into his pocket. ‘I almost forgot, my queen. Zeke asked me to get this to the Red Vision,’ he said, and handed me a scroll. ‘You need not read it. It’s a love letter – a very romantic one, albeit tinged with the heartbreak of separation.’
‘You know it’s considered impolite to read other people’s mail.’
He smiled. ‘I consider it my responsibility, as mime-lord, to know exactly what transpires in this section.’
I placed the scroll into my inner pocket, making sure it was buttoned in. It might give Nick a little comfort.
‘Underqueen,’ Jack said, and I looked up, ‘I hope I don’t presume too much to make you an offer.’ He turned his come-hither eyes on me, making me raise an eyebrow. ‘All syndicate leaders have need of succour. The position of Underqueen is a taxing one.’ His hand came to rest high up on my waist. ‘If you ever wished to have a . . . private audience, you know where to find me.’
He was so close that I could smell the spice oil on his skin, see every silken detail of his face.
He wasn’t who I wanted.
‘Jack,’ I said gently, stepping away, ‘we hardly know each other. I’m flattered, really, but—’
‘I understand,’ he murmured. ‘You already have a lover.’
‘Yes. No. I mean—’ For goodness’ sake. ‘Whether or not I do, it doesn’t change the fact that I won’t be taking you up on that offer. But I do appreciate your loyalty. And I thank you.’
He frowned a little as he smiled. ‘For what, Underqueen?’
I kissed him lightly on the cheek. ‘For putting your knife through a man’s neck for me.’
‘We call the Swan Knight, mime-queen of IV-4. What matter do you wish to bring before the Underqueen?’
We were only halfway through the audience and requests from the syndicate were coming thick and fast. The voyants parted to let the Swan Knight through. She had been soundly thrashed by a berserker named Redcap during the scrimmage, and used a cane to approach the dais. Her request was for money, for repairs to a damaged building in her section.