“A coup?” Hester laughed in disbelief. “He’s already our leader.”
“Camden’s, yes.” He paused, struggled. Ilsa could hardly believe what she knew he would say next. “He wants the city.”
Oren drew a breath. Eliot toppled something on the dresser he was leaning against. Hester’s eyes were on Aelius, but her gaze was far away. Her tight mouth quirked up at one corner.
“That doesn’t sound like Gedeon,” she said.
“No. It’s a peace enterprise,” Aelius said, and despite his state, he managed to force some derision into the words.
“That sounds like Gedeon,” said Fyfe.
“He means to form a conclave. Six members. Each faction.”
Ilsa had been in this torn-up London a matter of weeks, and even she knew such a thing was idealistic at best; at worst, delusional. What was more, she thought with a flash of anger, Gedeon had gone about his grand plan without confiding in his lieutenants, the people who supported him; who had been doing his job in his absence, and could have managed a lot worse at it too.
Or had he? Ilsa cut her eyes across to Eliot. Is this what he had been hiding? Everyone seemed to think he knew more than he was letting on, but perhaps the secret he’d been keeping for Gedeon wasn’t about his disappearance at all.
Somehow the more Eliot showed her, the surer Ilsa was that there was more she couldn’t see. She only had a moment to study him before he glanced her way, and it was inconclusive. He was unsettled, but so were they all.
“Gedeon was the first to mention the amulet… as a tool… for their takeover. They think… he has it.”
“So they’re not his true allies,” said Hester, her tone screaming of long-suffering disapproval. Had Gedeon always been too trusting?
“Not all. I don’t know who.” He took several long, slow breaths and closed his eyes. “But his Whisperer… Fortunatae.”
Ilsa knew who. The Zoo had had a high-ranking Whisperer ally for years; an obvious choice. “Alitz.”
Incomprehension registered on Aelius’s haggard face before he let out a long sigh and fell unconscious.
“That’s why she’s been waiting,” said Ilsa to the room. “She ain’t found the amulet here so she needs to see what Gedeon does.”
“The closer he gets, the more danger he is in,” said Oren, almost to himself.
“Hester, we have to do something,” said Cassia. “We can’t keep trying to keep this quiet.”
Eliot – ever hovering at the periphery – stepped forward and addressed Hester. “Gather the wolves. Let Ilsa tell them everything she’s learned of Gedeon’s movements and have them try to track him. They know their missing pack members. They’ll know how they think.”
Cassia made an exasperated noise. “We’ve already asked the wolves,” she said. “We exhausted all of our leads in a day, or don’t you remember?”
“But now we know what he’s seeking,” said Oren, his voice soft, “and perhaps where to find it.”
Fyfe shook his head. “The amulet isn’t here, Oren. I’ve been looking but—”
“No, not here,” said Oren, toying with his glasses. He turned to Ilsa. Something in his gaze stirred unease deep inside her. “Do you know what the seventh Seer’s amulet looks like?”
“Uh…” Caught off guard by the question, Ilsa looked at Eliot.
“Silver,” Eliot cut in. “Round. The chain probably attaches to a cap which stoppers the contents.”
Oren sighed. “Then I believe it is at the St Genevieve Orphanage on Kennington Road, in the London of the Otherworld.” His eyes calmly met those of Hester and the lieutenants, before coming to rest on Ilsa. “Since that is where I hid it, seventeen years ago.”
Ilsa’s head swam. Her own ribcage tried to smother her. It was the feeling that overwhelmed her in confined spaces, but it was happening right here in the Zoo.
“Oren,” said Cassia, aghast. “You—”
“You’re telling us this now?” said Hester. Her back was rod-straight, her chin was tilted fiercely, and in that moment, she looked bigger than all of them.
“I hoped not to tell you at all,” said Oren unapologetically, “but if Gedeon is truly headed to the orphanage, then we have run out of time.”
“Oren,” said Hester, her voice low. “If you have kept something from me, I suggest you explain yourself fast.”
“There is a lot you must understand,” he said. “You know, all of you, that I was among those Changelings whose debts Alpha Lyander bought when the newly drafted Principles permitted her to do so. She found me in an antiques shop in the Heart, helping the man who kept me to trade and keep shop, when an amulet fitting Eliot’s description came to him in a contents auction. It was in a trinket box with some other jewels. It was tarnished, and the clasp was stuck. When he got it open and found traces of blood, he of course knew at once that the amulet had magic. It was no great leap to work out how to test that magic. Out of caution, he tested it on me.”
Oren delicately laced his fingers together. His movements, his speech; he was always so controlled. Hearing what he had suffered, Ilsa wondered what he was controlling. “I won’t patronise you by labouring the point, but legends are not reliable. If the thing that came to Lazaro was the same amulet you describe, then I doubt the fairy tale tells the whole truth. I doubt that it tells of the way the amulet consumed blood; of its boundless greed. A single drop of my blood would make Lazaro a Sorcerer-Changeling for a day, and then he would take another. And every drop tore my magic from me with an agony I cannot describe. I was not just without my magic. It cost me my strength, my wits, at times my sanity. Working for a Sorcerer, I knew some of what their magic was capable of, but I had known nothing like that amulet, and I’ve known nothing like it since.”
Ilsa shuddered imagining what Gedeon would inadvertently become responsible for if he obtained the amulet. What if he had it already? What if he had tried to use it?
“Lazaro Tilley was not an ambitious man,” Oren continued, “nor a particularly clever one. He never understood the power of what he possessed, nor how much the right person would pay for it. It’s been nearly nineteen years and still I thank the stars every morning and night that he did not. That he only viewed the amulet as a tool for his… dare I say, his amusement.”
Amusement. Ilsa swallowed hard, but the lump in her throat remained.
“Still, I couldn’t risk such evil falling into the hands of anyone else. So once I was freed, as soon as I had recovered my strength, I called on Lazaro in the night, and I clasped his throat in my jaws until he suffocated.”
“And you took the amulet,” said Hester, seemingly unfazed by Oren’s murder confession.
“I didn’t hold much hope of destroying it, but I did try, many times. I had resigned myself to the burden of hiding it forever when Lyander confided her plan to me; to protect her unborn child should the Zoo face destruction.
“It sparked my resolve. If the strongest and bravest woman I knew would hide what was most precious to her in the Otherworld, then it was the best place for the amulet too.”
“Did it occur to you that by hiding the amulet with Ilsa, you put her at risk?” said Hester. Ilsa would have sworn, for just a moment, that the idea made Hester angry, but perhaps it was just that Oren had kept this from her.
“It wasn’t my intention,” said Oren. “I was young, and I was not as conscientious as I have been forced to grow in serving the Zoo. At the time, it was the only plan I had. It was never supposed to be a permanent fix. But when we returned to the Otherworld and were told Ilsa was dead, I thought, perhaps the amulet would never be discovered there. Perhaps, if it was, the Otherworlders would take it for a pretty bauble and nothing more. So I left it there.”
Very briefly, he caught Ilsa’s gaze with a meaningful glance. Was she supposed to know something about the amulet? Oren must have been mistaken; Ilsa had forced down her memories of her time at the orphanage, but she was sure she’d remember something like that.
“Hester,” said Cassia imploringly, “if we fetch it, Cogna’s Sight will lead Gedeon back here.”
It’s what Ilsa had been thinking, but every time she tried to imagine setting foot back in that place, her mind refused. It shuttered with a violence that sent a physical tremor down her spine. How had the place that haunted her past wrenched itself into her present?
“And then what?” said Hester. She was resting her chin on her steepled fingers, her eyes glazed over in thought. “Alitz is waiting for Gedeon to make a move. And if we interfere, he just might.”
“We’re connected to Gedeon, ain’t we?” said Ilsa, catching Hester’s meaning. “So’s the Zoo. So if we’re the ones who’ve got the amulet, and we bring it here, we might be making it easier for Cogna to find.”
“Then that’s precisely what we should do!” said Cassia. The news that Gedeon was headed straight for harm appeared to have carved a manic edge into her. “We could end this.”
“Start it, you mean.” Hester shook her head. “Alitz is, at best, one step behind us, and at worst, a long way ahead. We have to assume she will find out if we take possession of the amulet. The fight will only get bigger once that happens.”
“Oren had the amulet,” said Eliot. “It was already here at the Zoo. Cogna’s bound to hit on that sooner or later. A bigger fight is coming either way, but if we’re the ones to force it then at least we’ll be ready this time.”
“And we will be, but we needn’t be the ones to provoke it.” She turned to Oren. There was a steel in her gaze that belied the civility of her tone. “Is the amulet safe and hidden where you left it?”
“I have no reason to suspect otherwise.”
“Then it’ll stay there. We will concentrate our efforts on finding Gedeon before he finds the amulet. Thankfully, he will have a hard time getting to the Otherworld without us knowing. Oren, send a message to the wolves at the portal to be on alert for him. I want to know within moments if he tries to pass through. They are to stop him, whatever he says.”
Oren shook his head and massaged the frown lines between his eyes. “They won’t follow your orders over Gedeon’s own.”
“Then remind them which of us will punish them if Gedeon’s not in the Witherward to stop me.
“Cassia, for all we know, the Lord of Whitechapel is quite aware that Alitz Dicer is the Sage and has chosen not to interfere, but I’m sure it will interest Mr Voss to know that she’s planning a coup.”
“But Gedeon—”
“—does not need to enter the conversation. Try and spin this to our advantage.”
Cassia nodded stiffly, and swept from the room, Oren behind her.
“Fyfe,” Hester continued, “draft a letter – I will sign and seal it – asking Lucius to name any and all high-ranking Sorcerers who are suspected of dissent or stand accused of breaking the Principles. These are his people allying with the Fortunatae, and he’ll be held responsible. I won’t wait for him to lay his cards any longer.”
Fyfe, ever eager to be employed, darted from the room, and Hester rolled her chair after him. “Eliot, come with me, we need to talk.”
Left behind, Ilsa checked that Aelius was comfortable, then left him to his rest. In the hallway, she allowed herself to fall against the wall, where she gulped down several deep breaths and willed her hammering heart to slow.
Despite the trepidation and hopelessness creeping slowly through her veins like ice, she had to believe they were finally going to find her brother. They were a step ahead of him at least, and they had what they had truly needed from the start; not Ilsa, but Hester, their alpha. Hester, who could mobilise their militia and make demands of Sam Lucius; who could put an end to her lieutenants’ squabbling and make a plan. Even as they had shaken with anxiety and bitten back their retorts, a palpable relief had spread through the others as Hester had come to life. Something had thawed, and she could feel it thawing still, in the very walls of the Zoo. As she gazed out of the window to the front of the house, and saw Oren sending a wolf into the sky and straight for the abbey, she knew: they were the family she had been promised when she stepped through the portal.
She was passing the stairs on the way to her room when she saw the tall form of Cadell Fowler slipping silently from the house, and a thought struck her.
“Captain!” He halted, one hand still on the doorframe. “Come with me.”
Fowler gazed quizzically at her, but after a beat he turned around, climbed the stairs and followed her to Hester’s rooms. She left him in the corridor and let herself in.
The door to the sitting room had been ajar, but Hester and Eliot were ensconced behind the closed door of the bedchamber, talking in hushed voices. With a jolt, she realised this conversation was secret. Naturally, she crept to within eavesdropping distance and deciphered what she could.
“… promise you, Hester, I haven’t heard… but listen…”
“… told you to keep an ear… you’ve been distracted by my pretty little cousin…”
“… please… something you need to know about Millwater…”
At the mention of Millwater, Ilsa crept closer, wincing as a floorboard creaked underfoot. There was an echo from behind the door as Eliot moved to open it. She thought about shrinking herself to a mouse, but what were the chances another Changeling would fall for that? In the end she could do nothing but look innocent and surprised when the door flew open.
Hester and Eliot both frowned suspiciously at her, but her mask was convincing. Hester raised an eyebrow. “Did I neglect to give you an order, cousin?” she said sharply.
“Actually, yes,” said Ilsa, and it was probably for the best; she didn’t respond well to authority. “But I managed without you. I’ve had an idea.”
33
Fowler was frowning at a painting when the three of them emerged into the hall. He dipped his head to Hester, eyed Ilsa questioningly, then turned an inscrutable gaze on Eliot.
Ilsa tried to recall the words exchanged the night they’d almost come to blows in Camden, but nothing had given away the source of their bad blood. Studying them now, it was clear Fowler was barely any older than Eliot, and Ilsa wondered if there was a love rivalry in their past.
“So,” said Hester, “you’re Cadell Fowler.”
“I am.” He rested both hands on the hilt of a long knife at his belt.
“From what I understand, you’re one of the most deadly people in the city.”
A shadow crossed Fowler’s face, and he nodded almost imperceptibly. “Perhaps.”
Hester folded her hands in her lap. “What happened tonight?”
“I was in a bar in Chelsea. Your man Hoverly arrived with a group of men I recognised as rebel sympathisers and requested a private room. My interest was piqued, so I followed them to listen in.” He glanced knowingly at Ilsa, who scowled. “But things had already turned… bloody.”
“So you failed to hear any of their conversation?” said Eliot.
Fowler glared at him opaquely. “My interest was piqued by a scream,” he clarified. “I was engaged before that, too far away to hear anything.”
“Ah.” Eliot smiled his cruellest smile. “Remind me, what’s your vice? Cards, isn’t it?”
“Eliot,” growled Hester.
For a brief flash, Eliot had got a reaction from the Wraith – a sting of surprise; the most weakness Ilsa had ever seen in him – but then Fowler schooled his features into impassivity. Ilsa marvelled that the captain could have anything in common with Bill Blume, but in that single moment, she knew unequivocally that he did. That was why his attention had snagged on the wrestling at the street party that night in Camden. It wasn’t the fighting; it was the money changing hands.
“So you just decided to be a hero?” said Eliot, changing tack. Definitely a love rivalry, thought Ilsa with a sting.
Fowler gazed levelly back at him. “I decided to help a fellow man in need when it was in my power to do so.”
“So much for ruthlessness,” said
Eliot, adding: “it’s a wonder the Order are as feared as they are.”
“Ruthlessness is not the same as strength, Quillon. You of all people should know that.” Eliot ground his teeth, and even Hester opened her mouth, but Fowler did not answer to either of them, and he pressed on. “It’s our strength the rest of you fear, and we didn’t cultivate it by undiscerningly slaying our way across the city. Mercy can be strength too.”
“I’m sorry, was that mercy or money?”
“Eliot, enough,” snapped Hester. Fowler hadn’t deigned to rise to the taunt, and simply smiled. “That’s quite some speech coming from a paid assassin,” Hester said to him.
He crossed his arms over his broad chest and gestured to Ilsa with a nod. “Paid rescuer too.”
“And who paid you to rescue Aelius?” said Ilsa.
He was quiet as he studied her. “It’s my night off.”
Hester caught her eye, and Ilsa nodded. It was the core of decency she had suspected the captain had, despite Eliot’s misgivings. Hester sighed, and obviously decided to trust her.
“I take it you’ve heard the rumours?” she asked the captain.
“I make it my job to hear.”
“Then I suppose it won’t hurt if I tell you they’re true. Gedeon Ravenswood is missing. The apprentice Seer of the Docklands is with him. And we need to find them both, along with twelve of our wolves, without any more delay.”
There was silence. Fowler’s brow knotted as he studied Hester. “Your cousin has been missing for nearly two months. Can I ask why the sudden urgency?”
“No, you can’t,” said Hester. “Do you want the job or not?”
“Why me? Because I’m here?”
“Because my cousin trusts you, and because you found her in three days when we failed to for seventeen years. I want you to do the same for her brother.”
Fowler considered each of them, his gaze lingering on Eliot, who had once again withdrawn several paces from the rest of the group. Eventually, he rolled his shoulders and said, “I’ll need to know everything.”
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