by Lucy Inglis
Regan pointed to the wall. The old man nodded. Lily sat. Regan swung one leg over the top of the wall, facing Lily as she sat down, and balanced his tea on the stone between his thighs. His knee rested against hers.
‘Who’s that?’
‘Ankou. He’s a Breton spirit, a watcher of churchyards. There are a few of them around the City. They keep things neat and safe. And, to be honest, make my life a little easier.’
‘But . . . why? And why here?’
‘Came over with the Norman Conquest, according to the books – that’s why they’re attached to the oldest of the churches here. They keep souls in, keep souls out.’ He made a flick-flack gesture with his hand and shrugged. ‘That’s why churchyards are sanctuaries. If in doubt, get into one, or a crypt, and stay there until I find you.’
Lily raised an eyebrow. ‘A crypt? Great.’ She glanced back at the old man, still hacking at the bunch of nettles. ‘Don’t the people at the church think it’s weird that this old guy, with the bones in his chest sticking out, turns up and does the gardening?’
He coughed a laugh. ‘I told you, people only see what they want. You see it now because you’ve my blood in your veins and because you’re looking for what’s there, rather than what you expect. They probably just think some nice old Frenchman has too much time on his hands.’
Lily shook her head and smiled. ‘So, we’re looking for Mona now as well.’
Regan nodded, not questioning the use of ‘we’. A day or so’s dark stubble shadowed his jaw. The breeze ruffled his hair slightly and his grey-gold eyes were bright and clear in the winter sunshine. ‘What?’ he asked.
She realised she was staring and looked down. ‘Nothing. About Sid . . .’
‘Yes.’
‘Drugs. Meant for me?’
He nodded.
‘But the nurse gave it to me. You’re supposed to be able to trust medical people.’ Lily looked into her cup.
Regan said nothing.
‘Why would anyone want to drug me?’
‘My guess? So they could take you the way they’ve taken Mona, and maybe Vicky. They were just making it easier on themselves.’
‘Who’s “they”?’
‘The Agency.’
Icy fear gripped Lily’s insides. Her hands, despite being warmed by the thin paper cup, were cold again. ‘But why?’
Regan looked across the street. ‘Taking people, it’s what they do.’
He drank the rest of his tea, then threw out the dregs, not speaking. Lily understood. Sometimes it was hard for her to talk about . . . Her brain clicked again, a thought coming into focus so clearly that she took a sharp breath.
‘What if they took my mother?’
He looked at her, then looked away across the street, lips pressed together.
She stared at him. ‘You’d already thought of that, hadn’t you? That’s why you came round last night. That’s what you and the Clerks were talking about.’
He said nothing.
‘What if . . . but why?’
‘I don’t know,’ he said. ‘But my guess is it’s something to do with your blood.’
‘But Vicky doesn’t have the same kind.’
‘No,’ he admitted.
‘And now they’ve got Mona.’ Lily thought fast. ‘What is she, by the way?’
‘Gupta didn’t drill it home to you? She’s—’
‘The daughter of the Serpent King,’ they said together, then laughed.
‘Yes, I got that. But . . . you know . . .’
He nodded. ‘She’s sixteen and looks human enough, but she’s got the snake eyes and an odd way of talking. Lispy. She’s also a stone-cold killer. Makes me look like a pacifist.’
‘But she’s the same age as me . . .’ Lily began.
‘You think that makes a difference? It’s just the way she was born. She can also regenerate herself.’
‘Like you?’
‘Different. If I lost a limb, I’d heal, but I’d still be a limb short. Mona could regrow it.’
‘What?’
He nodded. ‘I know. Amazing talent to have. The Serpent King’s children come out of some mountain every ten years. Farmed out to foster families all over India. The world. They’re taught to be great warriors by men like Gupta, and how to behave themselves, as far as that’s possible. Then they’re recalled to fight tribal wars at home. Mona’s the first daughter in five centuries. She’s deadly, the most talented of all of them. In India she’s like some princess deity. When her father finds out she’s missing, we’re in big trouble. He’ll send an army, and they won’t care what’s in their way.’ He looked at her. ‘You seem pretty calm about all this.’
‘Calm about what?’
‘Yesterday, you didn’t even know we existed. Now you’re asking questions about the daughter of an obscure Hindu god.’
Not that calm, no.
He ducked to catch her eye. ‘What are you thinking?’
That my mother may have been abducted by the government and the first guy I’ve ever met who . . . and he’s not human.
She shrugged.
‘What does –’ he shrugged exaggeratedly –‘that mean?’
Lily glanced away. ‘I don’t know.’
He turned his empty cup round by the rim with long fingers, shaking his head. ‘When we were talking about abilities I’m pretty sure I should have mentioned that psychic wasn’t one of them,’ he said to the air.
She ignored the comment. ‘So what do we do now?’
He chewed his lip, thinking. ‘This paramedic sounds like our best lead on balance. What’s the matter? You look worried.’
Lily hesitated. ‘Like nurses, I always just thought paramedics were good guys.’
‘It doesn’t mean they can’t be infiltrated. Maybe the Agency have convinced these people they’re doing the right thing.’
She looked into her cup. He touched her shoulder. ‘Don’t turn around right now, but look over the road from the station. In a minute.’
She drank her tea, then eventually turned around as if stretching. A paramedic was sitting on a bright yellow-and-green motorcycle, in a specially designated traffic island opposite the station.
‘We don’t know that’s him, though,’ she pointed out.
‘No,’ he agreed.
‘CCTV, that’s the way to find out. It’s everywhere around here. You can’t move without being on camera.’
He said nothing. Lily pulled out her phone and opened the internet browser. ‘Shoreditch local information says here that there are two paramedics on motorcycles in this area at any one time.’
‘So that means at least . . . what? What’s a human shift? Six on shifts through the week, maybe?’
Lily shrugged. ‘I suppose. So any one of at least six to track down. Unless we can get an image of them.’
He blew out. ‘Okay. So how do we go about it?’
Lily finished her tea and got up. ‘We check the cameras in this area. Near the crossing. See which ones may have got a good view.’
He stood. ‘Lead the way.’
On Bishopsgate Lily walked past the crossing, her eyes trained upwards, on the cameras bristling from every building and post. ‘Any of these will be fine, I think.’ Regan tipped his head towards the posts outside the station.
She nodded. ‘Two problems, though. First, they’re probably official ones for London Transport. The control centre will be right inside the station. Too many doors. Too hard for me to get access. I need a private camera on an office block, where the guard sits at the front desk. Not somewhere too small, though, as the small places will have limited storage and probably wipe their drive every week, if not every couple of days. Probably low quality too.’
He straightened his shoulders. ‘Picky, picky.’
Lily nodded. ‘Behind you. First floor. Look, there’s the security guard on the desk. That looks perfect.’
He came to stand next to her, looking amused. ‘Have you done anything like this before?’<
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She shook her head. ‘No, why?’
‘You seem pretty clued up.’
Lily shrugged. ‘Some of us live in the twenty-first century.’ He gave her a look, and she tried not to smile. ‘And we need to find them, don’t we?’
‘Yes,’ he agreed. ‘We do. What next?’
Lily wrinkled her nose in concentration. ‘You create a diversion. One that will get the guard to leave the desk for at least three minutes.’
‘Right. What will cause the most fuss without getting me arrested?’
‘Tell him there’s someone with a ladder about to mess with the cameras at the back of the building.’
‘Wouldn’t he be able to see them?’
‘And tell him there’s someone with him, taking pictures of it. And . . . that the guy has long hair and is wearing an Occupy T-shirt.’
Regan went inside. Lily watched as he leant over the desk conspiratorially. The guard, a bulky man, picked up a large set of keys and stormed out of the revolving door, Regan walking after him. ‘Damn hippies!’ the guard shouted as Lily headed past them, pushing through the door just as they rounded the corner.
She slipped behind the desk. The system was open, and it only took her a moment to access the main menu. She worked out the date of Mona’s accident and clicked on it, selecting Camera 4. The film was divided into fifteen-minute sections. Lily clicked again, and selected the time window. The film began to play. She drew the slider on. Mona was clearly visible lying at the edge of the crossing, the paramedic crouched over her. Too far. Lily clicked back, and saw a man push Mona straight out in front of the van as she waited at the crossing. An ordinary girl would have been badly injured. Mona lay still. Lily watched as the paramedic ran over, a medipack in his hand, and pulled off his helmet.
She paused the screen. The backs of her hands prickled and her heart thudded in her ears as she looked for a printer. There was nothing beneath the desk, but she found it in a cupboard to her left. On. Perfect. It took her only a few more seconds to get a print. She exited the screen, returning to the current views, then slid out from behind the desk, stuffing the printout in her bag.
‘Who are you?’ a man’s voice asked behind her.
Lily turned, but kept walking slowly backwards towards the revolving door. ‘I’m doing work experience in IT. Just sorting out a glitch on the cameras. Apparently there are some people at the back of the building—’
He came towards her. ‘Where’s the guard?’
She shrugged. ‘Sorting them out, perhaps? Anyway, it’s not a software problem, so perhaps they’ve broken something.’
‘Wait there. Where’s your pass? What’s your name?’
Lily kept walking.
‘Stop! I’m calling the police!’
Lily reached the door, shot through and ran, heading back into the City. Five minutes later she panted to a halt near the Bank of England. Regan jogged to a halt beside her, not even puffing.
‘How did you know where I was?’ she gasped.
‘Saw you leave.’
‘I was rumbled by some guy in a suit. But I got it.’ She pulled the crumpled printout from her bag. Regan took it. ‘Well?’ she asked, when he said nothing.
‘Well done.’
She grinned. ‘Look, there’s even a number on his medical bag.’
Still looking at the page, he put his arm around her and hugged her against his side. Lily hugged him back, just for a second. He let her go and she stepped back, still panting, pushing her hair off her hot neck.
‘So? What now?’ she asked. But Regan wasn’t looking at her, or the page. He was looking up at the roof of the Bank of England.
He swore softly. Lily followed his gaze. For a long moment she saw nothing – then, at the edge of her vision, there was a metallic flicker. She watched, dumbfounded, as over the roofline of the building slunk a large silver dragon. It moved in short bursts, like speeded-up film footage, then froze, red barbed tongue tasting the air as its gold claws gripped the edge of the roof. It slithered jerkily again, climbing further up the parapet, staring down at them.
The City carried on its business around Lily and Regan’s still forms. The buses roared as the lights changed.
‘What is it?’
Regan didn’t take his eyes off it. ‘One of the City dragons.’
‘One? How many are there?’
‘Seven.’
‘There are seven of them?’ Lily’s voice rose in alarm.
He nodded slowly, still looking up. ‘I’m hoping that only one of them is awake.’
‘You see dat?’ a voice said behind them. ‘You see what I see?’
Lily turned. Felix stood behind them, brush in his hand. Regan hadn’t taken his eyes off the roof. ‘I see it.’
‘You kno’ what diss mean?’
Regan said nothing.
‘You kno’ what diss mean?’ Felix repeated, almost shouting.
‘Shut up.’ Regan turned on him.
‘You naw tell me to shut me mouth,’ the street cleaner exclaimed. ‘Diss now waaaay bigger dan you and me. Diss now all Chaos.’ He made a huge circular motion with his brush in the air, almost knocking down a man rushing by.
‘Watch it, mate!’
Felix saluted him with the broom in a sarcastic flourish, turning back to Regan. ‘An’ last night I too busy wit’ some mighty strong hex to sekkle dem garbage from yesterday. Someting disturbing all my usual safe places.’
Lily caught the lapel of Regan’s coat. ‘What does he mean?’
‘He needs a crossroads, or a junction to place the bodies on while he binds the spirit.’
Felix nodded. ‘Aye. An’ everywhere too busy last night, too open. Wit’ some strange feeling. It is comin’, I is sure of it now.’
‘What’s coming?!’ Lily asked, exasperated with the riddles.
‘Explen to de likkle jubee den.’ Felix sucked his teeth. ‘Explen how she gon’ get snapped like a tweeeg.’
Regan turned, looking angry. ‘Don’t you say that.’
‘I say only tru’. De Chaos War, it is here. An—’
‘And if you don’t shut your mouth now, I will—’
Felix squared up to him. ‘What you do? What you do to me? I Felix. I de Cleaner.’ With that, he nodded and began to walk away, pushing his cart with one hand and the brush with the other.
Regan set off back the way they had come, with one last glance at the dragon. It crouched, staring down at the city through eyes like gold mirrored lenses, emotionless. It seemed to see everything, and nothing. Its barbed tongue flickered in and out.
‘Hopefully it’ll stay around here for now.’
Lily waited until they left the main road for a narrow, deserted alley. She turned on him, grabbing his sleeve. ‘It’s a dragon! In the City of London. What do you mean hopefully it’ll stay around here?!’
‘I mean, up there, on the bank roof, and not on the streets,’ he hissed back.
Lily covered her face with her fingers for a second. ‘You said the others are asleep.’
‘I don’t know that. But we only saw one.’
She dropped her hands. ‘Will you talk to me? Properly. Please.’
He sighed, letting his head drop back. Lily could see the flame tattoo licking over his collarbone at the bottom of his exposed throat. ‘There are seven City dragons. One for each gate. They’re a kind of Eldritche we call the Ancients. Immortal, eternal. They’re totally focussed on one thing only. You cannot reason with them and they don’t understand us. They only understand protecting the City. Usually, they sleep, somewhere beneath their gates. I come across them sometimes. In old water mains, crypts, tunnels, anything. They only wake when their area of London Wall, or their gate, is disturbed.’
‘The banshee?’
He shook his head. ‘No, not just that. That wouldn’t be enough. But there’s definitely more Chaos around than I have ever seen, and if they’re focussing on one particular gate, that could have disturbed that gate’s dragon.’ He
bit his lip, thinking. ‘They usually stick close to their own gate. My guess is this is the Bishopsgate dragon. But it could be Cripplegate’s. Let’s hope the Chaos doesn’t disturb the others. One dragon I could probably take down, but if the rest wake it’ll be carnage.’ He swore with feeling.
‘What do we do?’
‘I have absolutely no idea.’
‘Oh . . . and the Chaos War?’
Looking away, he took a breath. ‘When the City will be overrun by the Chaos. It’s part of a prophecy. Made by a pair of Eldritche sisters when I was a child.’
She swallowed. ‘And it’s here?’
‘Felix is a drama queen, don’t listen to everything he says.’ He began to walk back towards Liverpool Street. ‘Let’s just keep to the plan for now.’
Lily stopped. ‘But he said I’d get broken like a twig.’
He turned to look at her. ‘Yes.’
‘Will I?’
‘Not if I have anything to do with it. Come on,’ he said, his eyes sliding away from hers, ‘let’s find this medic.’
Back in St Botolph’s churchyard, they paused for a second by a tiny Victorian tiled building. It looked out of place, a cross between a miniature English church and a Middle Eastern bathhouse, all red brick and elaborate blue and green tiles. The security guard from the office building was sitting on a bench nearby, eating a burger. Two policemen strolled towards them, bursts of voices then static issuing from the radios strapped to their shoulders. Regan grabbed Lily’s hand and pulled her back, into the doorway of the tiled building. An elaborately engraved brass plate on the door announced Lilith’s.
He smacked his forehead. ‘I’m such an idiot.’
‘You are?’
‘Yes.’ He tugged the metal bell pull by the door. A grille in the wood slid back and the door clicked open, then closed again. Inside stood a tall, muscular man, wearing a Middle Eastern tunic and trousers. He bowed gravely. Regan nodded to him.
Regan pulled Lily down a tiled spiral staircase. They arrived in a huge basement, outfitted as a nightclub. It too was tiled throughout in blue and green. Aggressive dubstep was playing quietly from somewhere.