Page 2 of The Dark Mirror (The Bone Season #5)

2

THE SESTRA

LEGNICA

10 September 2060

I gazed at a water stain on the ceiling. Tobiasz had left me a bowl of homemade soup, which cooled while I lay on the couch, trying to accept the hole that had been ripped through my life.

Half a year, washed away in the blink of an eye. That alone would have been hard to stomach, but I had no sense of why or how it had happened. All the answers must be trapped in my locked memory.

I was getting a headache. Other than the chocolate, I might not have eaten for hours. I finally tried the soup, which Tobiasz had called ?urek – a hearty concoction of sausage, bacon and potato, with an appetising tang to it. It took the edge off, allowing me to collect my thoughts.

I had clearly been given white aster. I had little practical knowledge of it, except that it induced some degree of amnesia. Jaxon had occasionally smoked it. He cut it with tobacco, which softened the memory loss, allowing him to write off the day without forgetting it altogether.

Eliza had been hooked on it at one point. To break free of the addiction, she had eventually run away from the dealers who had raised her, never attempting to recover her memories.

She had made me promise I would never touch aster – not even the blue or pink sorts, which weren’t thought to be addictive. Surely I would never have taken it of my own free will.

A wolfish dog came to join me on the couch. Some animals were nervous around voyants, but she only looked curious.

‘Hello.’ I offered a hand. ‘You won’t stab me in the back, will you, girl?’

She licked my hand and lay beside me. I ruffled her fur, swallowing the lump in my throat.

Not since the torture chamber had I felt so weak, so violated or so alone. I had to find a way to undo my amnesia.

In theory, I could reverse the effects of white aster, though I have never attempted it , Arcturus had told me. Memory is complex. And fragile.

He couldn’t help me. He had used and deceived me for almost a year, then thrown me away.

Unless there was more to what I remembered.

Even as it happened, I had doubted his betrayal. Not until he made to strike me had I started to believe. It might be false hope, but perhaps there was a clue I could no longer remember. A piece that had been erased from the puzzle. Something that explained his actions.

If not, I would destroy him.

All day, my survival instinct had kept me on the move. Now a terrible weight filled my head. I pulled a blanket over myself and fell asleep, imagining a warm body shaped around mine, and a hand on my waist, holding me close.

‘Underqueen.’

I woke with a start, reaching for a weapon. It took several cold moments to remember where I was.

Amber sunlight shone between the blinds, on to Kazik. None of that had been a vivid hallucination, then.

‘Kazik,’ I said. ‘What time is it?’

‘Noon. You slept for a long time.’

‘Right.’ I sat up, wincing at the pain in my wrist. ‘Did you speak to whoever is looking for me?’

‘Yes. Someone is coming here to collect you, to take you to the Sestra. She is a voyant from inside Scion.’ He nudged the fridge shut. ‘I will keep to my usual routine, to avoid suspicion if these Americans come here. We’ll be at the coffeehouse if you need anything.’

‘Okay.’

For the rest of the day, I dozed on the couch. Even when I had been racked with pneumonia, I had never felt an exhaustion this deep and relentless. Had six months not passed, I would have thought it was an aftermath of the fever I had barely survived in Paris.

At dusk, a car with tinted windows pulled up, and Kazik came back to see me off. ‘This driver is working for the Sestra,’ he told me. ‘I hope that you can get in touch with the Mime Order.’

‘I appreciate your help. Will you thank Tobiasz?’

Kazik nodded. ‘Stop the anchor coming any farther, if you can. Do widzenia, Underqueen.’

The amaurotic driver opened one of the back doors. I got in and fastened my belt. Unless I was going to walk all the way to Paris, I would have to trust the spirit that had pointed me to Kazik and Tobiasz, and hope this Sestra had good intentions.

As night closed in, I was driven away from Legnica. Hard as I tried to stay awake, my eyelids weighed the world. By the time I pulled myself back to awareness, over an hour had passed, and it was too dark to see much of anything.

If the ?ther threw me a bone, the Sestra would get me back to Paris, so I could fortify my alliance with the French syndicate. As for the Mime Order, it had spent half a year without any word from its legitimate ruler. My subjects must think I had abandoned them, or that I was dead.

We drove for hours before the driver stopped the car and got out. I did the same, huddling into my jacket. He opened an iron gate and led me through a graveyard, which wrapped around a small church with dark roofs and spires. A few timid spirits brushed my aura, then darted away. When we reached a pair of doors, the driver tested one, and it creaked open.

‘Go inside,’ he told me, ‘and you will find the Sestra.’

‘Who is she?’

He returned to the car without answering. I faced the doors, steeling myself.

Inside the church, I glimpsed candlelight and followed it to a set of steps. I tried checking the ?ther, but my sixth sense felt as dull as the others, worn down by my fatigue.

As I descended, I kept my spirit ready, wishing I had other weapons. This seemed like the perfect spot for an ambush. Scion had outposts in the free world. For all I knew, the driver had delivered me to one.

At the bottom, I stopped, my breath coming in small white puffs.

At first, I thought it was carved marble that adorned the chamber ahead of me. It was only when I reached the showpiece – a chandelier – that I realised it was bone. There were bones tucked into recesses in the walls, stacked into grim pillars, strung like garlands across the ceiling. Even the chandelier was made out of dismantled skeletons, skulls blooming from petals of hipbone, bleached white. Appropriately, I sensed revenants: spirits that lingered with their remains, sometimes until their deaths were avenged, or their murders solved.

I stood beneath the chandelier and took in the macabre chamber, remembering the catacombs and quarries beneath Paris. We voyants did prefer to meet where death settled like silt.

A flame blazed to life on my left. A revenant, wreathed in fire. I took a step away, ready to attack the voyant I had failed to sense among the spirits. My sixth sense really was rusty.

‘Who dares impersonate the Underqueen?’ a voice said. ‘Think before you answer. I find that I am in the mood to add your ribs to the décor.’

The voice was cold and wary, with a Bulgarian accent. When a tall woman came into the light, it took me a moment to recognise her with brown hair, which now skimmed her shoulders.

‘Maria?’

The fire sputtered out.

‘Paige.’ A pair of stunned eyes reflected the candlelight. ‘It’s really you?’

There was a deep silence before the spirit backed off. Ognena Maria grinned and strode towards me, holding out her arms. I ran into them, and she bundled me into a tight hug.

‘Damn you, Paige Mahoney, you bloody fool,’ she exclaimed. ‘We thought you’d been blown up.’

I could hardly speak for relief. ‘You’re the Sestra?’

‘Sometimes, in these parts. Sorry for the smoke and mirrors,’ Maria said. ‘I was sure I was meeting an imposter.’ She laughed when I buried my face in her shoulder. ‘I really don’t believe it. How the fuck did you get to Poland?’

‘I couldn’t tell you if you paid me.’ I gripped her leather jacket. ‘I’m just so glad I found you.’

‘Are you alone?’

‘Yes.’

‘All right. We’re not letting you disappear again.’ Maria drew back and regarded me with concern. ‘Oh, Paige, you look exhausted. Let’s get you back to the living. I have a truck.’

‘This isn’t where you’re based?’

‘No, this is where I lure my enemies. Beautiful, don’t you think?’ she said, looking around. ‘It’s called the Sedlec Ossuary. Its caretakers are osteomancers – I persuaded them to cut me a key. Luckily for them, it’s one of the very few buildings I could not bear to send up in flames.’ She wrapped an arm around me and walked me back to the stairs. ‘Domino has provided me with a lovely apartment in Prague. You can stay for as long as you need.’

‘Prague?’

‘Yes, sweet. You’re in Czechia now.’

‘But the car didn’t stop. Wasn’t there a border?’

‘One can travel freely between some countries in Europe. Which is fortunate, for the likes of us.’

I nodded slowly. Over a decade trapped in Scion, and now I could apparently flit between countries without even showing a travel permit. The whole thing was too surreal to fathom.

Maria led me away from the church to an old petrol truck with faded red paint, parked on a nearby street. I climbed into the passenger seat, which was on the right side. They were always on the left in Scion.

‘Maria,’ I said, ‘you should know there were Americans after me back there. I got away by the skin of my teeth.’

‘Americans.’ Her brow creased. ‘Why on Earth should Americans be interested in you?’

‘They said they worked for the Atlantic Intelligence Bureau.’

‘That doesn’t sound fake or sinister at all.’ She blew out a breath. ‘Shit. I’m shaking.’

‘Why?’

‘Because I came so close to not extending the search to Poland. I couldn’t think of any reason you’d be there, but a friend vouched for a network in Silesia, so I made a snap decision.’ She dug into her pocket. ‘I suppose the ?ther was on our side. Who put us in touch?’

‘Kazik. I didn’t get his surname, but he and his partner let me stay in their apartment.’

‘I’ll make sure they’re repaid for that.’

She turned the key, and the truck came to life with a rattle. A nearby window reflected its headlamps. And suddenly I was seeing Arcturus, pinning me with that soulless gaze.

I decided to remain by your side. To learn every secret of every clairvoyant organisation, so that one day, we Rephaim could eradicate them all , he had said. You were thorough: London, Manchester, Edinburgh, Paris—

‘Wait,’ I said. Maria braked. ‘Maria, did the Mime Order follow my orders to move?’

‘No, but—’

‘Fuck. Was the shelter discovered?’

‘Paige, listen to me. I know why you’re afraid, but they were fine in April, when I last had word.’

Even with that reassurance, my stomach churned.

‘April,’ I said, softer. ‘You’re sure?’

‘Yes.’ Maria touched my elbow. ‘I promise I’ll tell you everything when we get to Prague, but it’s a long story, and you’ve gone as pale as those skulls. You should get some rest.’

On any other night, I would have pushed her. But somewhere between the crypt and the truck, the tiredness had stolen back – a fatigue that ate into my joints and clouded my senses. The overpowering rush of fear had made it worse. All I could do was nod and recline the seat, so my body would stop aching. Surely I couldn’t still have pneumonia after six months.

‘Are you hungry?’ Maria asked me.

‘I could eat.’

‘All right. I’ll stop.’

She drove in silence for a while. Between dozes, all I could see ahead was road, lit by the long beam of the headlamps.

Next time I woke, Maria had pulled over at a fuel station. She filled the truck and went in to pay, returning with two cups of coffee and a brown paper bag, which she handed to me.

‘Strange to meet outside.’ She slotted her cup into a holder. ‘Strange to be outside.’

‘I’m not sure it’s really sunk in.’

‘Nor for me. I’ve been out of Scion for months, and I still find myself keeping watch for Vigiles.’

‘I thought Domino sent you to Bulgaria?’

‘I started there.’ She fired up the engine. ‘And now I’m here.’

I took a sandwich out of the paper bag. ‘How did you know I was missing?’

‘Nick. We met up in Copenhagen in June, and he asked me to put my contacts on the case. He was planning to return to Sweden, but he had managed to visit London, back in April.’ She accelerated out of the fuel station. ‘How long were you in Poland?’

‘I don’t remember.’ My eyelids drooped. ‘I don’t … remember anything. Not since March.’

‘Wait. The whole time you’ve been missing?’

I couldn’t answer. My strange new dreamscape was calling me back.

Something made me stir. I tried to rise from my slumber, but the world felt so heavy. When I did manage to crack my eyes open, I realised I was in a bed.

Maria paced in the gloom with a phone. Even though she was close, her voice sounded distant, unintelligible. I lifted my head an inch off the pillow, drawing a tiny sound of exertion.

‘Paige.’ Maria was there at once. ‘Paige, it’s Maria. You’re in Prague.’ She brushed my hair off my clammy forehead. ‘Did someone give you white aster?’

‘Cordier.’

‘Who?’

That was the last I heard. My dreamscape closed like a flytrap around me. I sank into the shadows of my dreamscape, where I lay among the blooms until voices woke me again.

‘… waterboarded in London. I don’t know how to get her to wake up, let alone drink.’

‘You should have called sooner.’ A new voice. ‘She must have taken a great deal.’

‘Paige has never touched drugs, to my knowledge.’

‘Sometimes it only takes a bad day. Unless you think it was given to her by force?’

‘That is exactly what I think, and when I find out who—’

‘Shh.’ The bed sank to my right. ‘Paige.’ My lashes fluttered, but everything was too blurred to see. ‘Paige, my name is Ver?a, and I’m here to help. Can you hear me?’

‘Mm.’

‘Listen to me carefully. Do you remember when your birthday is?’ It was a long time before I could think of it. ‘January,’ I murmured. ‘January … the fourteenth.’ A music box, a whistling bird. ‘Very good.’ The new voice grew louder. ‘Paige, I really need you to stay awake, okay?’

‘I hate seeing her like this,’ Maria muttered. ‘What is happening, Ver?a?’

‘It’s a whiteout. A severe overdose,’ came the quiet reply. ‘I have only seen this once before. We have to act quickly. If she slips any deeper into this state, she could lose all her memories.’

‘You mean she’d forget who she is?’

‘Yes, but she’s fighting. We have time to stop it.’ A warm hand touched my arm. ‘The blue aster in my case. Bring it here.’

My awareness returned in small bursts. A rustle, and then the coarse snap of a lighter. I opened my eyes to see a swirl of bluish smoke, smelling of violets.

‘Breathe in, Paige.’

Out of nowhere, a memory flashed, a shard of a mirror catching the sun: someone else, another woman, forcing white flowers up to my face. The scent of them, sickly sweet, on a cloth.

‘No.’ I tried to twist away. ‘No—’

‘Paige, it’s all right.’ Maria grasped my good wrist. ‘You can trust us. You can trust Ver?a.’

I did trust that voice. Surely I could. But then Eléonore Cordier loomed, a shadow on the snow, promising me it was all for the good. She had lied. Still, I could hold out no more.

I breathed in.

By the time I woke, the world was golden. I blinked a few times, trying to remember where I was. An ache lingered in my temples. I lay on a low bed, my hair greasy, throat dry as sawdust.

Opposite me, large windows were cut into a sloping roof, soaking the floor in light. The same exhaustion clung to me, which seemed impossible. Satisfied that I was safe, I curled up in the sun-warmed sheets and closed my eyes, but thirst and discomfort kept me awake.

‘Maria?’

She came in from another room, wearing combat boots and a sleeveless boiler suit of olive linen. A chunky leather belt cinched it at the waist.

‘Finally.’ With a broad smile, she sat beside me. ‘How are you feeling?’

‘Not great. Did I sleep for long?’

‘Three days. Apparently, taking too much white aster causes an accumulation in your dreamscape. It eventually turns into something called a whiteout,’ she said. ‘If you stay in that state for too long, you forget who you are. You’re out of danger, but you’re going to be tired for a while, no matter how much you rest.’

‘As if I wasn’t tired enough.’ I scraped grit from my eyes. ‘I still can’t remember anything since March.’

‘We don’t know a way to reverse such a significant degree of memory loss, but that doesn’t mean there isn’t one,’ she said. I nodded as much as I could with a headache. ‘You need a good breakfast. Do you want to shower first?’

‘Is that a hint that I should shower?’

‘I would advise it.’ She ruffled my curls, then went to a wardrobe. ‘Let me get you some clothes. Ver?a is about your height.’

‘Who?’

‘A local Domino recruiter, and a fixture of the voyant community of Prague. She works to ensure that relations with amaurotics remain open and amicable in Czechia.’

‘So people know about us here.’

‘To a degree. Not everyone takes us seriously, or even believes in us, but personally, I would rather be mocked and doubted than sent to the gallows,’ Maria said. ‘Ver?a is good with people. She even founded a group that intercedes on our behalf with the Mayor of Prague.’

‘Any special reason her clothes are in your wardrobe?’

‘From the sparkle in your eye, I think you may have guessed.’

I smiled. ‘Since when?’

‘A few weeks.’ She unfolded a pair of dark trousers. ‘But we’ve known each other for a long time – since the Balkan Incursion, in fact. I’m sure Ver?a will want to tell you the story.’

‘I’m happy for you.’

‘Thank you, sweet. I’m happy for me, too.’

I shifted my legs off the mattress and stood, waiting for another rush of dizziness to pass. Maria dug a collared white shirt from the wardrobe, along with a pair of socks and a jersey.

‘So,’ I said, ‘are you Maria or Yoana here?’

‘Maria is fine. I always liked it. My Domino name is Nina Aprilova, and Ver?a sometimes calls me Maru?ka, which is a Czech nickname for Maria.’ She handed me the clothes. ‘Help yourself to whatever you need from the bathroom. There’s a spare toothbrush and a new comb in the top drawer. I’ll go to the bakery while you’re in there. We can talk over breakfast.’

Prague was one of the few cities whose criminals were ambitious enough to make the perilous journey to Scion. Over two years ago, I had met a Czech art dealer, who had bought a forgery from Eliza. I had done business with a handful of smugglers from other European cities, but their appearances had been few and far between.

And now here I was, walking in their world.

The apartment was all raw wood and brick walls, softened by throw cushions and worn leather furniture. A piano stood at one end of the main room. The Domino Programme housed its agents comfortably, presumably to make up for the constant risk of death.

In the bathroom, I peeled off my clothes and stood like a mannequin by the shower. I had hoped the white aster would have dulled my memories of the waterboard, but no such mercy.

Filth , whispered Suhail Chertan, or the likeness of him that lived in my head. To think that you really believed he desired you . My jaw rattled. Imagine his disgust at the feel of your skin, the taste of death on your lips …

My heart was pounding. I reached out to turn a brass lever – slowly, so the water came out in a patter, not a flood.

In the torture chamber, the water had been foul. Here, it could be warm and clean and under my control. Little by little, I increased the pressure. Once the glass had steamed up, I stepped into the downpour, keeping my face out of the way. Soothing heat washed over my shoulders. I found a bottle of shower cream and covered myself in the scent of roses, working it up until it foamed.

As I scrubbed days of sleep off me, I remembered being naked in another room. I remembered the inviting warmth of sarx on my skin, the strong hands smoothing up my back. Before I could stop myself, I was picturing golden eyes, smouldering like coals in the dark. I was remembering the exact pattern of his scars, the contours of his body against mine.

It was an amaurotic notion that the heart was the seat of the self. The dreamscape was the home of the spirit – the heart was just a muscle, a clock – but my chest hurt when I thought of him.

My heart had beat like wings that night. He had shown me that my body was a gift, as much as my untethered spirit. Two days later, he had claimed it was all an act, to win my trust.

I stepped out of the shower and wrapped myself in a towel. Once I was dry and dressed, I locked gazes with my reflection. No one could ever know what I had done with him that night.

Just before I turned away, I noticed a few new scars on my face, small and faint, peppered across my brow and one cheek. From experience, I knew what they were – the marks left by exploding glass – but I had no explanation. Maria waited on a terrace, where a pot of coffee gleamed, set out with chopped fruit, a jug of milk, and glazed pastries with honey and butter. The sun burned in a sky so blue it almost hurt. In London, it was rare for it to be quite this warm or bright in September.

Pink roses twined around the balustrade. I went to it and narrowed my eyes against the light. Beyond were the picturesque rooftops of Prague: cast iron and glass, green copper domes, spires needling up from a sea of cinnamon tiles, all giving way to hills in the distance.

‘I’ve heard it called the Golden City,’ Maria said. ‘It’s like something out of a fairy tale.’

‘You could let yourself think Scion didn’t exist here.’

‘That’s what I find so disturbing. I understand now why the free world has done so little to help us. If I close my eyes for long enough, I feel I could forget Scion was even real.’

She poured us both a coffee. When I sat in the other chair, she pushed the pastries towards me.

‘This district is called Malá Strana,’ she said, slicing into a loaf of crusty bread. ‘I’d like to settle here once we’ve defeated Scion. I’ve never been somewhere that felt more like home.’

‘It is beautiful.’ I picked up a steaming cup. ‘You wouldn’t want to go back to Bulgaria, then.’

‘I have nothing left there.’ She stared into the distance. ‘I found out that my father was detained for making alcohol, and died of a stroke in prison. He was the last of my family.’

‘I’m sorry.’

‘It’s all right, sweet.’

From what little Maria had told me, her relationship with her father had been strained. She had only been able to live on her own terms after she marched to war against Scion.

‘Tell me about Bulgaria,’ I said. ‘How did you end up here?’

Maria tucked her legs into her chair.

‘As you will recall,’ she said, ‘Nick and I were forced to work for Domino to save your life. I was happy to do it, but I made it clear that I meant to return to London. Domino wanted me to carry out a single assignment, for which they believed I had relevant knowledge, in Scion East.’

Scion East was the collective name for the five Scion territories that lay east of France, including Cyprus, which functioned as a naval and air support base.

‘The Third Inquisitorial Division usually guards that region,’ Maria said, ‘but many of its soldiers were transferred to the invasion force for Operation Madrigal, so the time was ripe for troublemaking. I was asked to liberate a Greek agent known as Kostas, who had valuable intelligence. He was in the Chakalnya, a fortress in the Balkan Mountains, where I was once imprisoned.

‘I was authorised to recruit my own team of associates to help. I decided to go looking for the people I remembered from the Chakalnya, who knew its layout and workings,’ she said. ‘Many were dead, but I found three women – Nuray, Teodora and Carmen – who had survived their sentences. Together, we formed sub-network Plashilo and prepared to breach the prison. We were under strict instructions not to free anyone but Kostas.’

‘I think I can see where this is going,’ I said.

‘Yes. We freed him,’ she said, ‘and then decided to celebrate by saving the rest of the prisoners.’

‘And then you burned it down?’

‘And then I burned it down.’ She sipped her coffee. ‘My supervisor blew a fuse. They were about to wipe my memories when a Czech organiser named Radomír intervened. He needed someone with my knowledge to teach agents how to infiltrate and survive Scion.’

‘And you agreed?’

‘I agreed to serve the rest of my fixed contract – another six months – on the condition that he put me back in touch with you and Nick, and that I could keep my memories. I arrived here in May to work as an instructor at the Libu?e Institute of Prague, where Domino trains new recruits. Radomír, true to his word, arranged a meeting with Nick. He’s also paying me, which is nice. I’ve saved most of the money to help the Mime Order.’

‘So you’re still an agent.’

‘I am technically an associate, despite the salary. Too reckless and insubordinate to be an agent.’ Maria propped her temple with her knuckles. ‘Your turn. What’s the last thing you remember?’

‘A masquerade in Paris.’ I tried the coffee. ‘After that, there’s nothing. It’s like I fell asleep.’

‘Could Ménard have been involved?’

‘I did consider the idea, but I can’t think of any reason he would have sent me to Poland.’

Maria reached for a pastry. ‘Ver?a knows more than I do about white aster. One of her best friends was hooked on it,’ she said. ‘Assuming you didn’t take it by choice—’

‘I wouldn’t have done that.’

‘—then your captor must have drugged you multiple times over six months. One dose couldn’t erase that much memory. Whatever they did, it seems to have left you with a kind of anterograde amnesia. Every memory since March is buried somewhere in your dreamscape.’

My upper arm gave a sudden ache, as if my body was recalling something I no longer could.

‘Eléonore Cordier was the medical officer for my Domino sub-network. I’m certain she was involved,’ I said. ‘She’s amaurotic, but she might know how to use ethereal drugs.’

‘You think she betrayed Domino?’

‘She might not even work for Domino. She’s clearly mixed up with the suits who came after me in Wroc?aw.’

‘I can’t find any trace of this Atlantic Intelligence Bureau.’ Maria dipped the pastry in her coffee. ‘Do you remember the date of the masquerade?’

‘March the seventh,’ I said. Her expression changed. ‘What?’

‘There are no coincidences.’ She chewed the inside of her cheek. ‘On the seventh, there were simultaneous airstrikes against Paris and London. It seems the free world finally retaliated.’

I looked at her in disbelief. In two centuries, no one had dared to punish Scion for its aggression.

‘You were in Paris when it happened. Nick and I feared the worst,’ Maria said. ‘It was the only obvious explanation for why you’d disappeared.’

Based on the timing, I must have been caught up in the destruction. I remembered none of it, but perhaps that was a mercy.

‘Tell me we didn’t lose anyone,’ I said.

‘I imagine there were a few Mime Order casualties on the surface, but most of your subjects survived in the deep-level shelter. They couldn’t have been in a more perfect hideout.’

Our descent had seemed like a defeat at the time, but it might have saved hundreds of lives.

‘I wonder if Cordier used the chaos to abduct you,’ Maria said. ‘Perhaps you were injured?’

‘Maybe. I thought Scion had detained her. She vanished the same night—’ I paused to steady my voice. ‘The same night Warden was taken.’

‘Nick told me what happened. He was there when the Mime Order received your warning. Nadine said Scion captured Warden, but when you ran to his rescue, he claimed he had been working for Nashira the whole time,’ Maria said. I nodded. ‘But she wasn’t convinced.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘She didn’t think Warden had really betrayed you.’

‘Nadine barely knows Warden. How could she have been so sure?’

‘Nick might be able to tell you more. I don’t think anyone wanted to believe it,’ Maria said. ‘Warden and I talked a few times at the Mill. He didn’t need to be civil, but he always was.’

Not just civil. He had spoken to humans from a place of genuine respect and interest, until the night that had nearly destroyed me.

‘I understand the Ranthen were looking for him,’ Maria said, ‘but he disappeared into thin air, like you.’

‘And no one’s heard from him since?’

‘Not as far as I know.’ She held out a dish. ‘Eat something, Paige. You look faint.’

I took a small pastry with cream.

‘Scion didn’t react to the airstrikes. Weaver made an ominous speech about the anchor biding its time, and so on,’ Maria said, ‘but Spain and Portugal have been keeping him busy, and the planes were unmarked, which gave everyone plausible deniability. A clever approach by the free world, I must say. You should also know that Scarlett Burnish has not been seen since April. Weaver claimed she had retired.’

That gave me a chill. My unexpected saviour, who had been a spy for years.

‘The voice of Scion,’ I said. ‘She’s not even thirty. Is anyone buying retirement?’

‘They have to buy it,’ Maria pointed out. ‘There’s more, I’m afraid. In early June, Norway declared its intention to join the Republic of Scion. Now Inquisitor Linda Groven rules from the Scion Citadel of Oslo.’

I took a moment to digest it. Thirteen countries under the anchor, and far more in its shadow.

‘Nick told me Norway had always stood firm,’ I said. ‘Why the sudden change of heart?’

‘We don’t know. It shocked everyone.’

‘Sounds like we need to ramp up the resistance. Do you have any more news from the Mime Order?’

‘Only what Nick reported. After you vanished, the Spiritus Club upheld Eliza and Nick as your legitimate successors, but Nick is still under contract with Domino, so he’s been stuck in Sweden for months. For all intents and purposes, that has left Eliza as Underqueen.’

‘Is she all right with that?’

‘Nick said she was managing, but she wasn’t prepared for that degree of responsibility, and your subjects don’t know her especially well. As such, a small number of detractors have been calling for another scrimmage … or for the White Binder to be Underlord.’

‘Jaxon worked for Scion. He sold and laundered voyants,’ I bit out. ‘How could he possibly rule the syndicate?’

‘The Mime Order only had your word for that. Binder did win the scrimmage, before you turned on him. Some see him as the rightful Underlord, while others want to go back to the old ways. Now Senshield is gone, they don’t see a pressing need to fight Scion.’

I sighed. ‘Great.’

‘They are criminals, sweet. You were always kicking against the current.’ Maria topped up my coffee. ‘Fortunately, Binder has not made any moves on London. Nobody has seen him.’

The Mime Order was ripe for the taking. If Jaxon hadn’t gone for the throne, he could only be dead.

‘Eliza will need support,’ I said. ‘I have to get back to London.’

‘That may not be possible yet. Since you’re alive, your contract with Domino probably stands. We agreed to work for a maximum term of a year,’ Maria reminded me. ‘You could vanish, of course, but Domino can get you back into Scion. You don’t want to rely on smugglers, like I did. I was lucky to survive. And the crossing is much harder now.’

There was also the matter of the help Domino might be able to give the Mime Order, which Ducos had offered me in Paris, as an associate of the network. Whether the deal remained on the table was another matter.

If you can provide me with proof that your organisation is ready to fight, you will receive financial support.

‘Eliza wanted to prove herself,’ Maria said. ‘Let her wear the Rose Crown until January, when you and I can return to London. I’m confident she can rise to this challenge.’

I started off in the pits of the syndicate. I know how tough you have to be. Now it was Eliza’s voice that came back to me, laced with resolve. Don’t underestimate me.

‘You could be right,’ I conceded. ‘Eliza needs room to grow beyond the Seven Seals, without me or Jaxon.’

‘And you need to trust your own people,’ Maria said. ‘Eliza can unite the Mime Order. In the meantime, perhaps you and I can use the opportunity to do some good from the outside.’

‘I’m listening.’

‘I’ve been summoned to a secret meeting at headquarters. Command only invites agents and associates there for matters of the greatest importance and urgency. It must pertain to what Scion is doing next.’ Maria raised her dark eyebrows. ‘How would you feel about coming with me?’