by Lucy Inglis
He let her hold his hand, his eyes on her. ‘Yes.’
She thought about it for a moment. ‘You’ll run out of space one day.’
He shook his head. ‘I won’t have any more. Not now.’
‘You have got quite a lot,’ she said shyly. There was a silence. Lily tucked her hands beneath her thighs. ‘Do you heal? Like you healed me?’
He nodded.
‘Anything else?’ she asked finally, in a small voice.
‘Like what?’ He sat back, slouching in the seat, tattooed hand flat on the table.
‘Do you get old? I mean . . .’
‘I know what you mean. Yes. We age just like you, if we get the chance.’
‘And special powers?’ She winced with embarrassment as soon as the words were out.
‘Let me think.’ He blew out, looking at the ceiling. ‘I’m strong.’
‘How strong are you?’
‘Hard to quantify.’
‘What else?’
‘I’m fast, immune to your human diseases, and I hear and see better than you. Eldritche don’t get sick anyway, so I’m not special in that regard. But I am also good at killing things. Enhanced natural aptitude, which probably isn’t as useful as being able to fly, or move things with my mind, but it seems to come in handy in my line of work.’
‘So, besides being invincible and—’
‘I’m not invincible,’ he interrupted. ‘I never said that. It’ll just take a lot to kill me. But it can be done.’
Lily’s eyes widened. ‘What can do it?’
He sat back in the seat, tracing a scratch on the scuffed wooden table top. ‘Outright obliteration. Catastrophic blood loss.’
‘How many of you are there? Like you.’
He shrugged. ‘Apart from my father and my brother, I don’t know if there are any others.’
‘Why not?’
‘Our line of work isn’t exactly relationship-friendly.’ He looked away. ‘And who would want what I am?’
Lily looked down. ‘They wouldn’t?’
‘They shouldn’t. Oh, hi. Fancy a date? Oh, sorry, should have said, during daylight hours only, and there’s always the chance of death by demon.’
She burst out laughing. When she stopped Regan said, smiling, ‘I think we should go and see the Clerks. Get their take on all this.’
They got up and left. Regan raised his hand to Tom as he opened the door to let Lily through. Outside, she looked up at him.
‘You don’t pay?’
He shook his head. ‘I own it.’ He pointed to the closed stationery shop, where dusty paper butterflies made up the window display. ‘That too. Was my mother’s family’s business. Printers. And the coffee shop supplies me with hot water in exchange for a very reasonable rent, in cash. It’s how I live.’
‘But no electricity. I mean, that’s mad.’
‘Why?’
‘Because.’
‘Because what? The Clerks keep me in books. Linda at the Barbican launderette washes my clothes, and in this city I can eat whatever I like, whenever I like. What else do I need?’
Lily eyed him dubiously. ‘I don’t know. Is it, like, a thing your family did? Living like that?’
‘No, it’s just me. After the shaky first couple of years, I thought that with my line of work it’s probably best if I leave the smallest dent possible in the world behind me.’
They were walking quickly, both with their hands in their pockets. Lily jogged a couple of steps. ‘Why do you talk like that? As if something terrible is going to happen?’
He halted. ‘You’ve seen what I do. One of me to how many thousand of them? You’re the smartest person I’ve ever met, so you calculate those odds.’
‘Yes, but—’
‘But nothing.’ He turned away. Lily ran to catch up.
They walked to the bookshop, breath streaming over their shoulders, and found Lucas sitting at his desk. This time he was reading the travel supplement from one of the Sunday papers. He glanced up as they came in and reached out, automatically, to set one of the globes spinning. Elijah was sitting on a ladder wearing a bright white shirt, a tie and a waistcoat, rearranging a row of books on the top shelf.
‘What news?’
‘We think Lily might be linked to the missing girl. She’s being watched.’
‘I’d say that was a certainty, wouldn’t you?’ Lucas fiddled with a goose-feather quill on his desk.
‘Please don’t talk around me.’ Lily looked at them, but it was as if she had suddenly become invisible.
‘Her mother disappeared from the hospital soon after she was born,’ Regan went on. ‘There had been a mix-up and she received the wrong blood.’ Lucas raised an eyebrow at this. ‘Lily’s been giving her blood regularly. Apparently, they store it for her in case she needs it. The girl who was kidnapped had been having tests at the same place. The blood was taken away by a courier on a motorbike.’ Regan showed Lucas the napkin. ‘It’s a—’
‘Caduceus,’ Lucas finished.
‘Yes, but it’s not a real one, is it?’
Elijah looked over his colleague’s shoulder and shook his head. ‘No. The wings at the top here are . . . distorted. It’s a symbol used by the medical profession.’
Lucas spun the globe again. ‘It’s also the symbol of the god Mercury. The symbol of liars and deception. Thievery.’
‘Wait, you’re saying someone’s stealing my blood?’
The door burst open, sending the bell jangling. A small Indian boy with long black curls stood there, panting.
Lucas got to his feet. ‘What is it, Master Singh?’
‘Mona! Mona is missing!’
Siddartah Singh sat upon a corner of the table. His short legs swung as he sucked busily on Lily’s lollipop. ‘Mona was sorting the papers this morning, then she was gone.’ Sid stuck the lollipop back into his mouth.
Lucas sighed, then looked at Regan.
‘I’d better get up there.’ Regan lifted the boy down and opened the door. ‘Come on, then,’ he said when Lily hesitated.
Outside, Sid took Lily’s hand. ‘I have to hold hands. It’s the law. And he won’t do it.’ He nodded his head towards Regan.
‘But you came all the way here on your own,’ Lily reminded him.
‘That was an emergency,’ he said around the sweet.
‘Master Singh here is a royal pain in the arse,’ Regan said drily. ‘Aren’t you, Sid?’
‘Yes,’ said Sid cheerfully.
‘Why?’ asked Lily.
‘Persistent nocturnal adventurer. Only been in the country three months, and two weeks ago he got all the way up to Hackney Marshes on the night bus. Like I needed that on top of everything else.’
‘I wanted to see the hinkypunks and—’
Lily raised an eyebrow. ‘Hinkypunks?’
‘Hinkypunks,’ Regan said, the corner of his mouth curving up.
‘But what are they?’ she asked, annoyed.
‘You know, wisps? Moon fairies? They lead drunks off the paths at night.’
‘Then what happens to them?’
‘They wake up with sore heads and light wallets. If they’re lucky.’
‘And if they’re not?’
He shrugged.
‘But you don’t stop them?’
‘No. Why should I? They don’t disturb the order of things.’
Lily looked down at the little boy. ‘How old are you?’
‘Six,’ he said, ‘and a half.’
They walked east towards Bishopsgate. Regan found Sid too slow. He walked with his hands in his pockets, long strides frustrated.
‘When I’m older I’m going to be his assistant,’ Sid confided in Lily.
‘Who told you that?’ Regan asked over his shoulder.
‘You said I could. When I was fourteen.’
‘I did?’
‘Yes. You said if I didn’t go out after bedtime again, I could start work at the same age you did.’
‘Ah, right, yes. I remember,’ Regan a
greed. ‘Let’s see where we both are in seven years.’ He put a large hand on Sid’s shoulder. ‘After all, I’ll be so old and worn out by then, I’ll need an apprentice.’
Sid smiled happily.
It took them what seemed a long time to reach Liverpool Street. When they reached the station, they turned right down Artillery Lane. Halfway down was an old shop front, its paint neat and smart. It had three stone steps up to the door, and signs in the windows for lottery tickets and mobile top-ups.
Inside, a stocky man in a turban was standing behind the counter. He had a pockmarked face with a large hooked nose, and bustled out as soon as he saw them, holding up his hands.
‘Regan. Praise be.’ His accent was a sing-song lilt that held a cheer he clearly did not feel.
‘Gupta. Tell me.’
Sid sat down on a pile of newspapers, chewing the plastic butt of the lolly stick. Gupta Singh frowned. ‘Sid, how can we expect to turn a profit if you eat the stock?’
Sid pointed at Lily. ‘She gave it to me!’
Gupta Singh turned back to Regan. ‘Mona went missing this morning. She came down at four to open up and take in the paper delivery. When I came down at six, the papers were in disarray! All over the floor! And Mona gone!’
A bead curtain at the back of the shop parted and a woman of Lily’s height appeared, with a centre parting and a rounded figure. She was dressed in a traditional Indian tunic and trousers.
‘Mona wasn’t, by any chance, having blood tests? At a doctor’s?’
Mrs Singh frowned. ‘Tests, no. Not Mona. Why would she? We keep her well away from doctors.’
‘Just a thought. Anything happen in the last couple of weeks?
‘Yes,’ Gupta Singh said firmly. ‘Sid, go upstairs.’
‘But why?’ Sid protested.
‘Go upstairs.’
‘You’re going to tell Regan what that man called Mona, I know you are.’
Gupta Singh looked at his son sternly. ‘And how do you know what he called her?’
‘She told me,’ Sid said, as if that were obvious.
Mrs Singh sighed and looked unhappy.
‘Mona said she should have cut his thing off and it would have served him right,’ Sid continued. ‘Did she mean—’
‘Upstairs!’ Gupta exclaimed, then began to berate him in a language Lily didn’t know, but which she guessed was Hindi. Sid rolled his eyes and got down from the pile of papers, dragging his feet as he went through the curtain.
‘And go upstairs and close the door. Let me hear you!’ Gupta Singh shouted.
The door slammed. Mrs Singh tutted and disappeared after her son, muttering as she went. Regan waited patiently, face impassive.
‘Mona was knocked down outside Liverpool Street two weeks ago today. Exactly. She was coming home, ten past four. On the crossing.’
‘What happened?’
‘A man called her a bad name and pushed her out into the path of a van. A paramedic on one of the motorbikes opposite the station came to help her. He had seen everything. Mona had to pretend to be in shock. The driver was very distressed.’
‘So . . .’
Gupta Singh took a deep breath. ‘One of Mona’s contact lenses had fallen out with the impact.’
Regan nodded. ‘With you now.’
‘I’m not with you,’ Lily said, ‘at all. Either of you.’
‘Mona wears contacts because she’s got snake eyes,’ Regan explained. ‘They’re pretty distinctive.’
‘Oh,’ said Lily. ‘Right.’
Gupta went on. ‘Mona is sure the paramedic saw. And while she was pretending to recover, a customer gave him the location of the shop. These humans and trying to be helpful! That is the only leak of Mona’s identity since we arrived. The only bloody one!’ He shook a thick finger towards the skies.
‘What about Sid? No way he could have told anyone at school?’
Gupta Singh shook his head. ‘Siddartah is a good boy. He knows when to keep his mouth shut.’
Regan rubbed his hands through his unruly hair. ‘Okay. So you think someone has taken Mona because they know—’
‘They know she is the only daughter of the Serpent King!’ Gupta Singh almost exploded. ‘She is worth her weight in rubies! They will ransom her and I will be exposed as a fool. A fool who is not to be trusted! Lord Basak Nag will have my bloody balls for this!’ Gupta Singh’s strong-looking fist smashed down on the counter.
A man came in for some cigarettes and a packet of mints. Regan picked up a magazine from the shelf and pretended to read it. Lily stared at the fluorescent orange and yellow stars stuck to the bottles of wine and vodka behind the counter. The man cleared his throat awkwardly as he paid, then left.
Gupta Singh carried on talking as if there had been no interruption. He shook his fist at the ceiling of the shop. ‘This is all I bloody well needed. Mona was the best pupil I ever had, and I go and let her get kidnapped by some gang who will ransom her for a fortune – and my hide. Seven generations! Seven generations, seven, my family has served the Serpent King, training his young, keeping them hidden until their training is finished. And I have to be the one to let him down. I am a dead man, I tell you.’
Regan shook his head. ‘I’m not sure this is what you think it is.’
‘What’s that you say?’ Gupta Singh dropped his fist.
‘There’s another girl missing. A human girl, from south of the river.’ Regan shifted to Lily’s side. ‘And whatever’s going on, Lily here is involved in it too.’
The older man looked her up and down. ‘Who’s she?’
‘Lawyer’s daughter, student, no idea about who we are. Or at least she didn’t, until yesterday.’
Gupta Singh’s face was serious beneath his drooping, bushy moustache. He nodded towards the door. ‘You’d better lock up and come in the back.’ He glanced at Lily. ‘Both of you.’
Regan dropped the latch on the door and flipped the sign from ‘open’ to ‘closed’. Lily went ahead of him, following Mr Singh through the bead curtain into the back of the shop. Behind it was a door to a staircase on the right, on the left were brown cardboard boxes of stock and four-packs of lavatory paper. Ahead was a large metal door. Mr Singh took the dented chrome handle in his hand and turned. There was a noise of massive bolts shooting back and he swung the door towards him. Beyond, strip lights blinked on with a slight hum.
Lily gawped. The room was large, probably the size of her flat. On all four peg-board walls hung weapons of every kind, half of which Lily would not have even known how to hold, or be able to lift. There were also spears, swords and daggers. An axe, throwing stars and metal cobras. In the centre of the room were padded mats, and mannequins dressed in body armour.
‘Come, come in,’ Gupta Singh said somewhat proudly.
Regan looked around with interest. ‘What’s new?’
Gupta pointed at an enormous broadsword on the wall.
‘May I?’
Gupta nodded. ‘Knock yourself out. Then tell me: what the bloody hell is going on?’
Regan took the sword down and swung it easily, experimentally, in a loose figure of eight. It whooped through the air, as if enjoying the experience. Then he weighed it in his hands. ‘Nice. I don’t think this is someone in the community, Gupta. I think it might be the Agency.’
‘Bloody hell,’ said Gupta Singh finally.
‘It’s not your fault,’ Lily said. Then wished she hadn’t.
He turned to her. ‘And what do you know about it? His only daughter! Trusted me to keep her bloody safe, didn’t he? Pays for all of this to keep us hidden! The only daughter in five centuries, and I get her abducted by the bloody British government.’ He turned back to Regan.
‘Calm down.’
‘Calm bloody down?! Mona is like a daughter to me—’
‘Yes, I’m sorry,’ Regan said.
Gupta Singh’s purpling face suddenly relaxed a little, and he breathed out slowly. ‘We love her very much.’
�
�I know.’ Regan hung the sword back on the wall.
Gupta Singh pulled up a low stool and sat down, his chunky knees apart and his solid belly bulging. ‘Can you help us?’
‘I’m going to try. Try to find them.’
‘How?’
‘No idea. Yet. I’ll think of something.’
‘And then what? One of you against who knows how many of them?’
Regan shrugged. ‘I’ll cross that bridge when I come to it.’
There was a shriek from upstairs. All three of them rushed for the door, Regan way ahead. They ran up the stairs into the cramped flat above the shop. Sid lay on the sofa, eyes closed and pale. Mrs Singh stood over him.
‘He won’t wake up,’ she cried.
Gupta knelt down by his son, shaking him gently, then less gently. ‘Sid? Siddartah?’
Kneeling, Regan put his ear to Sid’s chest, fingers to his throat. He raised his head a little. ‘He’s still breathing and his heart’s strong. I think he’s been drugged, Gupta.’
‘Drugged? But who would . . .?’
Regan held up the chewed lollipop stick he had extracted from Sid’s hand.
They left the Singhs looking after their son. Back on Bishopsgate, Lily checked her phone. There was a text from her father asking how the blood work had gone.
Fine x
She pressed ‘send’. ‘Will he be okay?’ she asked, worried.
‘Yes. I think so. That sweet was meant for you, though, so he got too big a dose. But not by that much.’
‘I shouldn’t have given it to him,’ she fretted.
Regan waved a hand. ‘He should just sleep it off. Who’s that?’ He gestured to the phone.
‘Dad. Just checking in.’
‘Does he check in a lot?’
Lily shrugged. ‘We keep in touch.’
‘You’re close?’
She nodded. ‘Yep.’
‘Right. Let’s go and get a tea or something. I need to think.’
Outside Liverpool Street was a kiosk. They bought two teas and sat on the wall in the nearby churchyard of St Botolph’s. In the corner was an old man in a Breton cap, with a short handheld scythe. By his boot was a paraffin lantern, burning dully. He was hacking at a crop of nettles, almost the only green in the place apart from the cold-stunted grass. Stopping to look at his work, he straightened up. Lily frowned. Beneath the open neck of his work shirt and his thin scarf, knotted round his neck, his chest was bare bones, like a skeleton. She blinked and looked again. Just a thin old man, working in a churchyard. He looked back at them. Regan lifted his hand. The old man raised his scythe briefly.