‘Why kill him?’ My eyes felt parched. ‘Why not keep him alive to blackmail me?’
‘One: because she deemed that he was less useful to her alive than dead. Two: because there’s a next move to come. This is just what she did to Rozaliya,’ she said. ‘First, she clouds your judgement. Then, knowing you’re vulnerable, she’ll strike. You need to stay calm, Paige. You need to defy what she expects of you.’
My fist closed, blanching my knuckles.
‘We’re not going back to London with nothing to show for it,’ I said. ‘I want to destroy those scanners.’
‘That’s exactly what we were thinking. We can set fire to the warehouse,’ Maria said hungrily.
I shot her a weary look. ‘Are you a pyromancer or a pyromaniac?’
‘Come on, this isn’t central Manchester we’re talking about,’ she wheedled. ‘Fire is efficient and leaves no evidence. Fire is our friend.’
It would certainly send Vance a message, even if it failed; even if it was an insane, desperate plan, one I would never have sanctioned under ordinary circumstances.
‘Fine,’ I said, after a moment. I wasn’t in the frame of mind to argue. ‘Burn it down.’
Maria gave a little crow of triumph.
‘How will we get close enough to the warehouse to cause this great inferno?’ asked Nick, who had been listening, amused. ‘It’s guarded, if you remember correctly.’
‘We’ll manage,’ Maria said, looking positively optimistic.
‘We can call on Elspeth’s voyant community for backup,’ I said. When I made to get up, Maria’s face changed; she reached out and grasped my shoulder firmly.
‘You can’t come, Paige. Not this time.’
‘I’m Underqueen,’ I said, my voice cracking. ‘If this is our last stand—’
‘Paige,’ Nick said, ‘you just lost your father. You’re the most wanted person in this country, let alone this citadel.’
‘And you’re too susceptible to Vance’s manipulation,’ Maria said gently. ‘We’re all in agreement, sweet. You need to be as far away as possible from all of this.’
I could tell from the others’ faces that they would brook no argument. My gaze shifted to Warden.
‘Fine,’ I said hoarsely. ‘I’ll go to the hills, stay out of the way. I won’t even be able to see or hear the transmission screens from there. Warden, will you come with me?’
‘Good idea,’ Nick said, visibly relieved. ‘You shouldn’t go by yourself.’
I could tell that Warden was trying to work out what I was up to, what reason I could have for choosing him over one of the others. It would be our first time alone since our agreement. Finally, he answered.
‘Very well.’
‘Excellent.’ Maria slotted her guns into their holsters. ‘Come on, then, team. Let’s give Scion a night to remember.’
18
Vigil
Warden and I set out on foot through the rain, taking enough provisions to last me until dawn. We were making for the hills behind Haliruid House – once a royal palace, now the official residence of the Grand Inquisitor in the Lowlands, which I doubted he visited often. The others had left for the warehouse in a state of feverish excitement. After days of whispers and machinations, they were finally going to destroy a Scion building – or try, in any case.
Neither of us said a word as we walked. The park in the grounds of Haliruid House was thick with pine trees. We hiked around them and up the rough-hewn hills, belted by a bitter wind. The higher we ascended, the thicker my breath clouded, and by the time we reached a good vantage point, my hair glistened with drops of moisture. The thermals I wore under my clothes sealed in some body heat, but I couldn’t stop shivering.
We made camp below an overhang. The space beneath was sheltered from the rain and afforded us a clear view of the citadel. I took out some canned heat and placed it between us.
‘Do you have a lighter?’ I said, finally breaking the silence.
He reached into his coat and handed one to me. I lit the alcohol inside the can, setting a blue flame.
Our vigil began. I was supposed to be safe from Vance up here, but she was waiting for me in the citadel, preparing to spring her trap. I couldn’t imagine what it would be this time. All I knew was that it would be designed to result in my capture, and in turn, my eventual death. She had no intention of letting me escape this place.
Above us, the sky was a chasm, a mouth that threatened to swallow the earth. Up here, I could almost pretend that only we existed.
There was a tight weight in my stomach. My failure and my father, knotted together.
‘My condolences for your loss, Paige.’
I shifted, if only to stop myself freezing in place. ‘I don’t know if loss covers it. He was taken.’
He glanced at me, then away. ‘Forgive me. Some . . . subtleties of English still elude me.’
‘People do say it. It just doesn’t make sense.’
We were associates now, nothing more. I was Black Moth, Underqueen of the Mime Order, preternatural fugitive, failure. And he was Arcturus, Warden of the Mesarthim, Ranthen commander, renegade and blood-traitor, committed only to the cause.
The last thing I should be doing was pouring out my heart to him.
‘The clearest memory I have of my father is from when I was five. He’d been away on a business trip to Dublin,’ I said, ‘and I’d been counting down the days until he came back to Tipperary. Every morning, I would ask my grandmother how long it was until he was home. I would sit at the kitchen table with her and draw pictures for him.’ I traced the criss-cross of my bootlaces. ‘Eventually, he came back. I sensed him. Even when I was very young, I could feel dreamscapes. Not for as far as I can now, but far enough.
‘I knew he was coming. Felt his dreamscape. I waited for him at the boundary of my grandparents’ land, until I saw the car in the distance. I ran to him. I thought he’d pick me up, but he pushed me away. He said, “Get back, Paige, for pity’s sake.” I was so little; I didn’t understand why he wasn’t happy to see me . . . I still loved him, for years. I tried. And then, at some point, I just . . . stopped trying.’
Warden watched my face.
‘I don’t think I reminded him too much of my mother, or that he blamed me for her death. Nothing like that. I think he knew I was unnatural, and it . . . disturbed him. My cousin knew.’ I held my fingers over the flame. ‘Sorry. You don’t have to be my grief counsellor.’
‘Our agreement did not make me indifferent to you.’
The wind dried my eyes.
‘I know how your mother died,’ Warden said, ‘but not her name. That does not seem right.’
I hadn’t spoken it aloud in years, for fear of hurting my father. ‘Cora,’ I said. ‘Cora Spencer.’
The only dead member of my family who hadn’t been killed by Scion.
‘You feel that you are not as angry about your father’s death as you should be.’
‘He was family,’ I said. ‘I should be grief-stricken. Or consumed by the need for revenge, like Vance wants me to be.’