‘Show me,’ I said. ‘Show me your brand.’
His eyebrows lifted. ‘Why?’
‘So I know this whole sorry affair isn’t just another one of Hildred Vance’s mind games.’
‘Oh, even Vance couldn’t concoct something so wonderful and coincidental. Still, you’re right to demand proof.’
Jaxon Hall never passed up a chance to grandstand. With a slight smile, he sat forward, removed his waistcoat, and opened his shirt, giving me a glimpse of a pallid chest. He rolled his shoulders free of it and turned his back towards me.
And there it was. The rawness had long since disappeared, but the numbers on the back of his shoulder were all too legible. XVIII-39-7.
‘Are you satisfied?’
I forced myself to nod. I had never really doubted it, but the brand was the final, irrefutable evidence.
‘The discomforts of the colony were tolerable, in exchange for the fruits of knowledge.’ He set about buttoning his shirt. ‘Nashira, who took me under her wing, confirmed many of my observations about the Seven Orders. She taught me more. About Rephaite gifts. About my gift. My twenty-eight-year-old self fell wildly in love with this creature’s mind; her deep understanding of the ?ther, and her hunger to understand it entirely. I confess to being easily seduced by knowledge.’
‘You make a lovely couple.’
He smirked. ‘In mind only. I was promoted to red-jacket without ever having to lift a finger against the Emim,’ he said, sipping his coffee. ‘A week later, I became the colony’s internal Overseer. Life was altogether rather pleasant.’
‘So you betrayed the Ranthen to make sure it stayed that way.’
‘I betrayed the Ranthen in order to survive,’ he said, with the slightest sneer. ‘I soon heard whispers of revolt in the colony. I had two options: help Arcturus Mesarthim or betray his plans to the blood-sovereign. The only one of those two that guaranteed my survival was the latter.’ He returned his cup to its saucer. ‘Na?veté is a deficiency in immortals, and Arcturus was abysmally na?ve about human nature.’
‘He wasn’t by the time I got there.’
‘Yet you charmed him into trusting you. I repeat: na?ve. He must have been terribly disappointed when he discovered who you were. The heir,’ he said, ‘of his nemesis.’
‘Don’t flatter yourself, Jax. A nemesis is an equal.’
‘You must think very highly of him. It seems my warning about his true nature fell upon stubbornly deaf ears.’ He pressed his fingertips together. ‘I reported my findings. You know what happened next. A little . . . lesson was taught.’ His tongue caressed the word. ‘The Ranthen traitors were left alone for days with the spirit of the Ripper.’
I must have misheard him.
‘The Ripper,’ I repeated.
‘Delectable, I know. One of the poltergeists Nashira keeps, the same one you faced at the scrimmage, is the very poltergeist we voyants have hunted for a century.’ He looked back at the window, so the light fell on his face. ‘I am almost tempted to write and tell Didion, but no. Far more amusing for him to search in vain for the rest of his days.’
No wonder Warden and the Ranthen hadn’t trusted me. No wonder if they still didn’t.
‘You monster,’ was all I could say.
He held up a finger. ‘Survivor. Traitor. Marionette, yes. But not monster. This is what humans are, Paige. Only the Sargas can regulate our insanity.’ His hand returned to the arm of his chair. ‘Do you remember what Nashira said about me the arm of his chair in November – how long it had been since she had last seen me?’
I thought back. ‘She said . . . that you had been estranged from her for twenty years.’ I served myself a coffee of my own. Might as well die with caffeine in my veins. ‘Trouble in paradise?’
‘She wanted me to be her Grand Overseer, given my talent for spotting powerful voyants. Someone to guide the red-jackets. I was allowed to leave the penal colony, but as a Scion employee. I was to make a regular payment of at least one higher-order clairvoyant every two months.’
‘A regular payment.’ I paused. ‘The grey market.’
‘Very good. I was its architect.’
‘The Rag and Bone Man—’
‘—is an associate,’ he said calmly. ‘I let Nashira believe I would obey her. Then, one night, I escaped. Shed my old form. A skilled backstreet surgeon created this face.’ He pressed a finger to one cheek. ‘I needed wealth to achieve my dream of taking I-4. I kept in touch with the Sargas through calls to the Residence of Balliol, promising to continue my work, but refused to meet again in person.’
‘How did you get your hands on I-4?’
‘I reported its mime-queen and her mollisher, who were detained within a day. Then I announced myself to the Unnatural Assembly,’ he said. ‘I found a place to live in Seven Dials. Seven for my number. Seven for my name. I employed the Rag and Bone Man to assist me with my payments. He extended our network somewhat, as you learned in the weeks preceding the scrimmage.’
‘Then why build the Seals?’ I asked. ‘You had your grey market. Were you planning to send us all to Sheol for extra money?’
‘Every mime-lord needs a gang.’
‘You’re no ordinary mime-lord.’
He fell silent, gazing out of the window, the remnant of a smile on his lips. It wasn’t difficult to piece it together.
‘You did plan to send us there. Some of us, at least. You arranged my arrest.’ I could hardly get the words out. ‘You kept Nick busy so he couldn’t take me home, so I’d have to get the train on my own. You arranged for there to be a spot check on that line. When I got away, you told me to stay at my father’s apartment. Then you tipped them off.’
‘Imaginative, Paige, but incorrect. Why would I want you taken? Remember’ – he lit a cigar – ‘it was I who rescued you.’
He was still looking away. My hand moved to the table and delicately liberated a piece of paper from the stack.
‘Who, then?’
‘Hector,’ Jaxon said. My fingers worked quickly, rolling the page up small. ‘He met you on the platform, if you recall – to alert Scion when you stepped on to the train. I understand that it was out of spite towards me. Our Underlord was asking for more than his fair share of profits from the grey market, you see, and I denied his request. So he took my prized mollisher and pocketed the money he received from Scion for you. The Rag and Bone Man later, at my behest, arranged for him to be slain by the Abbess. I was originally going to have him removed by cleaner means – a nice gunshot, perhaps – but for his greed, I ensured his death was . . . rather bloodier.’
Hector.
All that blood in his parlour, the decapitated bodies – all because Jaxon had wanted vengeance for the theft of his most cherished possession.
Me.
‘And that cleared the way for you to be Underlord,’ I said.