The Pale Dreamer

by Samantha Shannon

  ‘Let you go?’ Eliza burst out laughing. ‘What?’

  ‘Oh, Paige – no. Of course not,’ Nick said gently. ‘I’ve come back from assignments empty-handed more times than I can count. Even Jaxon Hall doesn’t always get what he wants.’

  ‘You held Metyard back on your own. We can only repel spirits with spools.’ Eliza shook her head. ‘You’re a dreamwalker, Paige. Rarest of them all. Jax has always known that, but today, you gave him a taste of what you can do. Maybe you haven’t unlocked your gift to its full extent yet, but that’s fine. You can learn more, in time.’

  My heart thumped. ‘Really?’

  ‘Really,’ they said in unison.

  ‘You did a great job, as far as he’s concerned,’ Eliza said. ‘You guessed the real identity of the poltergeist. You were the one who suspected the spirits would return to the sewer.’ She reached into her knitted bag and produced the file marked M. ‘Chick Lane was clearly important to everyone involved in the crime. This is the transcript of the Metyards’ trial from the Old Bailey. Take a look at what Richard Rooker – Sally’s lover – said when he was testifying.’

  I pulled the folder towards me and peered at where her finger rested. In the transcript, Richard Rooker was recounting a conversation he had overheard between Sarah and Sally.

  I heard the daughter say to the mother, Mother, you are the Chick-lane ghost; remember the gully-hole.

  ‘The Chick-lane ghost,’ I said, and released a long breath. ‘So Metyard was known as that even in life.’

  Eliza closed the folder. ‘Right. Both Metyard and Anne had a clear link to that street. Jaxon had a strong suspicion that if those two spirits wanted to confront each other, that was where they would do it. He told me as much when you and Nick set off.’

  I shook my head. ‘Why didn’t you tell us? Why send us on a wildgoose chase?’

  She bit back a smile. ‘Jaxon asked me to test you, see if you could work it out yourself. He was delighted when I told him you’d asked about the gully-hole.’

  ‘Were you in on this?’ I said to Nick. When he held up his hands, I turned to Eliza again. ‘Fine. You knew Chick Lane was probably the place – but did you know the right Chick Lane was West Street?’

  ‘No. I really didn’t,’ Eliza said. ‘We took a gamble on your intuition. You were right.’

  I sat in silence for a long time, stunned.

  Jaxon wasn’t going to cut me loose. I might not be a full-fledged dreamwalker yet, but I had the ability to hunt and restrain spirits, and I had survived an encounter with the Underlord. Remembering that prompted me to ask: ‘What about Hector?’

  ‘You’ll have to watch your back for a while,’ Nick admitted, ‘but Jaxon will smooth everything over in the end. We all keep an eye on each other. That’s what the Seven Seals is about.’ He wrapped an arm around my shoulders and squeezed gently. My cheeks warmed. ‘We’re a family, Paige. And you are part of that family now.’

  My throat was closing; my eyes prickled. I didn’t know what to say.

  ‘To you, Pale Dreamer,’ Nick said, and the three of us raised our glasses. ‘And your career in unnaturalness.’

  ‘Get ready for it.’ Eliza grinned. ‘There’s no rest for the damned.’

  And I started to realise: this might really be my life. Things might just be like this for ever.

  Epilogue

  For a few weeks, nothing changed in Seven Dials, except that I would now join Nick and Eliza every Friday at Chat’s. I still didn’t go out much, and the more tedious paperwork inevitably landed on my desk, but I conquered it with new resolve. When Jaxon asked for coffee, it was the best damned coffee in London. The paperwork was the neatest and most detailed it had ever been.

  Jaxon displayed no change in his attitude towards me. Courtesy, occasional charm. Solid indifference most of the time. That was all right. Everything was.

  The bruise on my cheek faded. According to reports, Anne Naylor was back in Farringdon station, but she didn’t scream as often as she had before. Most of the time, she was quiet and sanguine. Jaxon thought it likely that Metyard the elder was lurking somewhere, but for now, Anne seemed to have found a little peace.

  On the last day of October, I was permitted to join Eliza while she collected the rent from local voyants, including Chat. It was a modest promotion, but to me, it was another sign of my acceptance into the gang. I was stepping into the skin of the Pale Dreamer, and I planned to stay in it for a very long time.

  Eliza took me into hidden shops where seers sold the knowledge in their crystal balls; where card-readers offered to map out my whole life with their images. We stopped for coffee. We avoided Vigiles. We were so preoccupied with our underworld existence that we almost forgot about the anti-unnaturalness messages on the transmission screens, and the voyants being executed, and the omnipresent government that loomed above us all, waiting to catch us. I had never thought I would be able to forget about Scion while I lived in it.

  Nick told me that this was how we rebelled against their tyranny. Quietly, in the shadows – but by existing, by thriving, by daring to profit from our gifts, we defied Scion. I knew from experience that defying them through other means would only end in all our deaths. This was the way things were, and we were content with this, with our secret mutiny.

  We collected the last of the rent before sunset. Back at the den, we sat and talked with Nick and told each other stories about our lives from before we had joined the Seven Seals. Eliza, who had been in the syndicate since she had been abandoned in Soho as a baby, was full of them. When we finally turned in for the night, my cheeks were aching from laughing so hard.

  The first thing I noticed was that another moth had landed on my window. The second was the curl of paper on my pillow. Familiar, elegant writing fanned across it.

  Meet me now at the sundial pillar.

  The old fear stirred again. I steeled myself and pulled on my jacket.

  As soon as I stepped out of the den, I saw him. He was standing before the illuminated pillar that formed the centre of the district, holding one of his antique canes. He didn’t move as I approached.

  ‘Good evening, Paige.’

  I stopped beside him and pushed my hands into my pockets. ‘Hello.’

  My spine was taut, my stomach roiling. Even after three weeks, a small part of me asked if he had just been biding his time, and now he would get rid of me. Perhaps Eliza and Nick had been wrong.

  ‘I trust you enjoyed your day.’

  ‘Yes,’ I said.

  His gaze was on the sundials. Seven Dials was where seven streets came together, converging in a junction around the pillar – but it had only six sundial faces at its summit. Nick had told me that the district had originally been designed with six streets, hence the absence of a seventh face. Locals now thought of the pillar itself as the missing dial. I took in the blue faces and golden engravings.

  ‘I have a matter to discuss with you, Paige. An offer to make.’

  The first half of what he said would have frightened me out of my wits, but offer was less threatening. Last I’d checked, you didn’t offer to fire someone.

  ‘As you have no doubt seen,’ Jaxon said, ‘Dr Nygård has been a great asset to me for the last eight years – but his work in Scion makes it difficult for him to commit as fully as I would like to the lifestyle of the Seven Seals. You’ve seen it now, darling. You know how demanding our work is. How dangerous.’ He tapped his cane against the pavement. ‘Eliza is a medium. Talented, yes, and hard-working, but not quite the calibre of voyant to become the heir and protégée of the White Binder.’

  A frown pinched my brow.

  ‘After they proved themselves, I gave both Nick and Eliza one of these sundial faces. To mark their places in the Seven Seals.’

  He swung his cane up to point at the sundial that faced the den, then traced a path between us, indicating the street we were standing in.

  ‘You see this, O my lovely? This is yours,’ he said. ‘This st
reet, this path, is yours to walk. If you follow it, it will lead you into the labyrinth of London’s underworld, where you truly belong. All you need do is embrace the Pale Dreamer. Let her deep into your soul. Let her take away all the doubt, the solitude, the fear you store as Paige Mahoney, and turn it into riches. Let her draw out the gift that lies dormant within you. Do this,’ he said, ‘and you will make me a fine mollisher.’

  Mollisher. Second-in-command. He couldn’t be making me this offer, not after so little time.

  ‘Mollisher,’ I finally said.

  ‘Correct.’

  He was going to choose me over Eliza, who had been with him for almost exactly a year longer than I had. I couldn’t help but think of what Ognena Maria had told me.

  ‘It shouldn’t be me,’ I said quietly. ‘Eliza—’

  ‘—will understand, and respect my decision. My mollisher must be someone rare, someone singular. When you fought Sally Metyard, you proved yourself to be everything I hoped. I know you can do more, but we have years to perfect your technique. We have the rest of your life, if you make the commitment I ask.’

  I hesitated.

  I hated the thought of usurping Eliza; and yet he insisted that she would understand, and he knew her far better than I did.

  ‘As my mollisher, you will be heir to my section. Upon my death, you will become mime-queen of I-4 and inherit my home in Seven Dials. You will want for nothing. All I ask for in exchange is your loyalty.’ He looked me in the face. ‘Do you accept my proposal?’

  My heartbeat was racing now, faster than it ever had – not in fear, but in anticipation.

  I still didn’t know what to make of Jaxon Hall, or what kind of promise I was making. For all I knew, I was striking a deal with the devil – but if it saved me from Scion, so be it.

  ‘Yes,’ I said. ‘Yes, I’ll be your mollisher. And you have my loyalty. Now and always.’

  The corner of his mouth lifted.

  ‘Excellent,’ he said. ‘Until tomorrow, then, Pale Dreamer.’

  With that, he walked away.

  A cold wind was rising. I stayed where I was for a long while, too shocked to move.

  High above London, the stars bore witness to my oath. In that moment, I almost couldn’t see the darkness that surrounded them. I almost couldn’t hear the sirens in the distance. Taking a deep breath, I turned back to the den and allowed myself the softest of smiles.

  Now I was free to be what I pleased.

  I am Paige Mahoney. I am the Pale Dreamer.

  A Note on the Author

  Samantha Shannon was born in West London in 1991. She started writing at the age of fifteen. Between 2010 and 2013 she studied English Language and Literature at St Anne’s College, Oxford. In 2013 she published The Bone Season, the first in a seven-book series. The Bone Season was a New York Times, a Sunday Times, and an Asian Age bestseller, was picked as a Book of the Year by the Daily Mail, Stylist, and Huffington Post, and was named one of Amazon’s 2013 Best Books of the Year. It has been translated into twenty-six languages and the film rights have been acquired by the Imaginarium Studios and 20th Century Fox. In 2014, Samantha Shannon was included on the Evening Standard’s Power 1000 list.

  samanthashannon.co.uk/@say_shannon

  Also by Samantha Shannon

  This electronic edition published in 2016 by Bloomsbury Publishing Plc

  © Samantha Shannon-Jones, 2016

  Samantha Shannon-Jones has asserted her right under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as Author of this work.

  This is a work of fiction. Names and characters are the product of the author’s imagination and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.

  Excerpt from the Old Bailey Online, www.oldbaileyonline.org

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