‘How old were you?’
‘Fifteen. Along with my friend Hristo, I left my home town of Buhovo and joined the youth army in Sofia. That was where I met Rozaliya Yudina, the woman in the memory. She was . . . charismatic, free-thinking, single-minded in her search for justice – rather like you. Roza convinced us that we had to fight, even if we weren’t unnatural. She was adamant that any organisation that labelled one group of people as evil would eventually do the same to others. That to treat any one person as less than human was to cheapen the very substance of humanity.’ Sorrow tensed her features. ‘Training was rigorous, and we knew our chances were small, but for the first time in my life, I was free of my father, free to be who I truly was. Yoana Hazurova – not Stoyan Hazurov, the son he had never loved.
‘When ScionIDE approached, we made our own cannon. We stole the guns of dead police. We defended Sofia.’ She inhaled deeply. ‘We lasted ten days before our country issued a surrender. Hristo fled to the Turkish border . . . I highly doubt he got there.’
‘You picked up a gun in your memory.’ A drop of water iced my nose. ‘You weren’t going to use it on the soldiers.’
‘Ah, you noticed. Unfortunately, it jammed. The soldiers beat me almost to death, then threw me into prison.’ Her face twisted with bitterness. ‘Several years later, the new Grand Inquisitor of Bulgaria forced prisoners into heavy labour. I fled on a boat to Sevastopol and spent months travelling west, determined to find a large community of voyants. London’s underworld embraced me.’ Lilac smoke plumed from her roll. ‘We didn’t last long, I know. But with every friend lost and home burned, we fought harder.’
‘What kept you going?’
‘Rage. Rage is the fuel. And people need to see suffering, the blood of innocents shed. But they also need to see people standing, Paige.’
‘Who chooses who suffers and who stands?’
‘You have to stand. We must get rid of Senshield now, no matter what. If you return to the capital with a dead commander and no evidence that you’ve damaged the core—’
‘I know.’
Nothing would protect me then, Underqueen or not. Loyalty would sour to hatred. Even my allies among the Unnatural Assembly would abandon me. ScionIDE would steamroll us all.
Time was of the essence, now more than ever.
‘Did he – before he – did Tom say where the voyants were based?’ I asked.
‘Yes. The Edinburgh Vaults.’
‘Where are they?’
‘Off a street called the Cowgate, which lies beneath South Bridge,’ she said, ‘but the entrance is hidden, and he wasn’t sure where.’
‘I’ll go now. You . . . finish your aster.’
‘No. I’ll take Eliza and start scouting for information about the depot elsewhere.’ She dropped the roll and ground it out underfoot. ‘Vance will already be ahead of us, but let’s not let her get too far.’
Back in the house, I unearthed a map of Edinburgh and spread it out on a table. The Rephaim had gone out – presumably to find some unsuspecting voyants to feed on. I could feel fear building underneath my exhaustion. Eight hours had passed since we had left the factory. For all I knew, Vance was already here.
Nick came down the stairs, looking as tired as I felt.
‘Where are you going, s?tnos?’
‘To find the Edinburgh Vaults. Tom thinks – thought – they were a hideout for a group of voyants who have been active in this citadel for decades.’ My finger skated across the map, over the latticework of closes and wynds that branched off the Grand Mile and then south a little, until I found the Cowgate. It wasn’t far. ‘He said they were somewhere around here. Coming?’
‘Of course.’ He reached for his coat. ‘Vance could be here by now. Dare I ask if the depot is on the map, so we can avoid having to ask the local voyants for help finding it?’
‘That would be too easy.’
I zipped up my puffer jacket and buckled my boots. A clock was ticking somewhere in the house. There was no time – but there was something I had to say to him.
‘Nick,’ I said, ‘we . . . never spoke about the séance. What happened to your sister.’
He turned away from the firelight as he shrugged on his coat, obscuring his expression.
‘There’s not much to say.’ He saw my face and sighed. ‘The soldiers were on patrol in the forest in Sm?land, close to where we lived at the time. Lina had gone there without permission to camp with some of her friends for her birthday. They had bought some bottles of Danish wine on the black market. Our father sent me after them. Hours too late.’ He drew in a long breath. ‘Later, Tj?der justified it by saying they’d bought the wine to induce unnaturalness in themselves. H?kan, Lina’s boyfriend, was the eldest. He was fifteen.’
I lowered my gaze. Birgitta Tj?der’s reign of terror in Stockholm was common knowledge – she saw any infringement of Scion law as high treason – but I couldn’t imagine what sort of mind would perceive a group of children drinking wine as deserving of the death penalty.
‘I’m so sorry, Nick,’ I said softly.
‘I’m glad it was in the séance. It means that Lina is in everyone’s memories now,’ he said, his tone stiff. ‘Tj?der was under Vance’s command. Whatever we do to hurt her is worth the risk.’
I felt the golden cord and glanced up. Warden was in the doorway, his irises hot from a feed.
‘Do you know Edinburgh, Warden?’ I said, straightening.
‘Not as well as I know London,’ he said, ‘but I had cause to visit during my time as blood-consort.’
‘Have you heard of the Edinburgh Vaults?’
‘Yes.’ He looked between us. ‘Would you like me to take you there?’
16
The Vaults
Even in the situation we found ourselves in, I could appreciate the beauty of the Old Town. Its buildings were beautiful and motley, with spires and rooftops that clambered skyward – as if they longed to reach the same heights as the nearby hills, or to touch the sky the sun had warmed to a finger-painting of amber and coral. Warden led us up the flight of steps outside the safe house, past a smear of white graffiti. ALBA GU BRàTH. A cry for a lost country.
‘Paige,’ Nick said, ‘what’s going on between you and Warden?’
Warden was a fair way ahead of us, too far to hear if we kept our voices down (unless Rephaim had uncannily good hearing, which had proven far from impossible). ‘Nothing.’
Nick looked like he wanted to ask more, but, seeing that his long strides had taken him too far from the humans, Warden had stopped to let us catch up.
I had thought I was acting as I always had around him in public, but something had betrayed me to Nick. As I walked at Warden’s side, I was conscious of my expression, my body language, my heartbeat.
‘When were you here last?’ I said to him.