‘Yas is not one of us.’
‘Silver?’
‘Silver,’ Alexandro waved a hand. ‘Crow. Us.’
‘She was a human being,’ Lydia said. ‘Not being Family doesn’t change that, doesn’t make her expendable.’
‘I can’t reprimand my daughter based on something she has done in retribution. You must see that.’
‘I see that you have a problem,’ Lydia said. ‘How you solve it is up to you. And there’s something else.’
Alejandro inclined his head. ‘Please elucidate.’
‘You have the Silver Family Cup in your office. It’s supposed to be in the British Museum. That was part of the treaty agreement.’
‘I don’t require a history lesson from a child.’
Lydia didn’t say anything.
‘It’s not as if the Crows honoured that part of the deal,’ Alejandro continued, defensively. ‘Don’t think we don’t know that the coin you put in was a fake.’
‘Before my time,’ Lydia said. ‘I’m curious, though, as to who might have suggested such a thing to you. When did you decide to retrieve the cup?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘It’s just something I’ve been thinking about. Who would prefer us to be fighting, to see our old alliances break down? Seems to me, whoever told you it was time to take the Silver Cup from the museum, will have motives of their own.’
Alejandro’s face closed down. ‘I don’t act on orders from anybody else.’
‘Not even suggestions? Tip-offs? Information is power, after all.’ Lydia knew that she was sailing into dangerous territory. Suggesting that the head of the Silver Family had been played was hitting him where it hurt, right in his sense of his own intellectual superiority.
‘Now, I know I’m not your favourite person right now,’ Lydia continued. ‘I know that there are retributions and tit-for-tat and all that respect bollocks, but I also know that I hate being manipulated. And if someone is trying to make our Families fall out, that’s a good enough reason for me to want to bury any bad feelings and make nice. What do you say?’
Alejandro tilted his head. ‘You might be trying to play me right now.’
‘I might,’ Lydia said. ‘But I’m not my father or my uncle. I don’t run the Crow Family. I’m out.’
‘And you expect me to believe that?’
Lydia hesitated. ‘You’re right. That’s too simplistic. I’m not out but I’m not in charge, either. I would really like us not to be walked into a war, though. To that end, I strongly advise you get your house in order.’
Chapter Twenty-Four
Lydia had been in touch with Faisal. He said that the phenomenon of the mysterious empty train carriage hadn’t been repeated and that he would really rather not take Lydia back down to the disused tunnels. Lydia knew the door code, of course, and could access the tunnels without him, but she would prefer the company of a guide who knew his way around. The idea of walking that dim subterranean maze unguided made her whole body go cold. Unfortunately, no amount of coin-spinning or bribery was enough to convince Faisal. Not helped by the fact that Lydia wasn’t putting her back into it, power-wise. She was holding back, stung by the recent delving into her Family’s criminal past. She was a Crow, but she wasn’t a bad one. She wasn’t organised crime. She was her own person and she was going to do things her own way. And that meant that she would avoid using magic to coerce an innocent person, if it was at all possible.
It was tiring having a moral code and Lydia longed to open the fresh bottle of whisky she had picked up, but she was trying to ease off the booze, too. All of which meant she was in a foul mood by the time she was trying to coax Jason out of the building.
‘I’ve told you, I can’t do it. It hurts. It feels weird. I don’t like it.’
‘Stop whining,’ Lydia said. ‘Come on. You’ll never get anywhere with that attitude.’ She sounded like the worst kind of teacher and that made her even grumpier. Lydia took a deep breath and tried to modulate her voice to something a little softer, more encouraging. ‘Please, Jason. Just try.’
He looked like he wanted to cry and Lydia felt like hell.
‘It hurts,’ he said, again. They had made it to the pavement outside The Fork and Jason’s form was getting thinner by the second. Lydia could see the brickwork of the building through his torso.
‘Okay, back inside.’ If she kept pushing he was likely to just disappear and that would be it for tonight’s attempt. Just inside the door of The Fork and Jason solidified in front of Lydia, the relief clear across his face.
‘I need a drink,’ Lydia said. She made do with a coffee, but made it a double-shot from the cafe’s machine, needing every burst of energy she could get.
Jason was hovering uncertainly by the window.
‘Come and sit down,’ Lydia said. ‘It’s okay. We’ll figure something else out.’ She had had a thought, but had been ignoring it, hoping that her other plans worked.
‘What?’ Jason said. He crossed the room and perched on the chair opposite Lydia. ‘You look weird.’
‘Charming,’ Lydia said. ‘I’ve got an idea but I kind of don’t want to say it. I don’t know if I can face doing it. Or whether you’ll want to do it.’
Jason’s lips twitched. ‘Well that’s nice and clear. You have to tell me now or I’ll be imagining all sorts of depraved activity.’
‘You know Marty’s ghost stepped into me? What if you did that and then I carried you outside the cafe. I’d be like a protective, I don’t know, vehicle…’ Lydia trailed off.
‘Like a tank.’
‘Please don’t call me a tank,’ Lydia said. ‘More like a vessel.’
‘A vessel?’ Jason was outright smirking now. ‘You don’t strike me as the religious purity type.’
‘Rude.’
‘It’s a good idea, though.’
‘Is it?’ Now that the words were out of her head she had hoped the concept would seem less creepy. It really didn’t, though.
‘No idea if I could do it. I’m a bit more solid than poor Marty.’ With a touch of pride, Jason said. ‘I’m really strong.’
‘Not out there,’ Lydia said bluntly. ‘We could go outside and try it. When you’re all wispy and vibrating like one of those weird exercise machines.’
‘Exercise machines?’ Jason looked mystified.
‘You know, they advertise them on the shopping channels. They jiggle you to fitness or something.’ Lydia shook her head. ‘I’m getting off track. It doesn’t matter.’
‘I jiggle?’ Jason was saying slowly. He looked kind of horrified.
‘Wrong word,’ Lydia said. ‘You vibrate. It’s hard to look at. Hurts my brain.’
‘It doesn’t feel great, either,’ Jason said. ‘I have to concentrate really hard to keep myself here. Keep myself present and me. Like I’m exhausted and I’m trying not to fall asleep. But much worse.’
‘And you still don’t know where you go?’
He shook his head. ‘I told you, I don’t remember anything. It’s just lost time. Just a blank and then I’m back.’ He stood up. ‘I’m game.’
Lydia didn’t stand up and his face fell. ‘It’s okay if you don’t want to.’
That did it. This was Jason. The man had saved her life and he was desperate to meet another spirit. She had failed to solve the mystery of his death and that of his wife, she had to at least try this. And there was every chance it wouldn’t work, anyway. She was probably getting worked up over nothing. ‘I don’t know if it will work,’ she said. ‘I do power you up, make you more solid. And that seems stronger when we’re touching. That’s going to actively work against us here.’
‘I think you need to relax,’ Jason was saying. ‘You look all tense, I don’t think that will help.’
Lydia pressed her lips together to stop herself from snapping at him. She was reliving the freezing sensation of Marty’s ghost entering her body. The terror. His and hers, mingled and amplified and the awful cold that seemed a
s if it might freeze her blood and veins, every muscle so that her lungs could no longer contract, her heart could no longer beat. That had only been for a couple of seconds. What would it be like for a longer period? What if she died?
‘I know,’ Jason turned on his heel and headed for the stairs. A few moments later he returned with the unopened whisky bottle. ‘Get some of this down you.’
Lydia untwisted the cap. So much for cutting back. Still, needs must. She tilted the bottle, not bothering to find a glass. The whisky burned going down her throat and it was delicious. Within moments the familiar warmth spread through Lydia’s body and she felt the panic turn down a notch. She could do this. It was Jason. He wouldn’t hurt her.
‘We need a signal,’ Jason said. ‘You can say ‘get out’ if you need me to, but we should have a back-up in case that doesn’t work.’
He meant, ‘in case she couldn’t speak’ which brought a fresh spurt of terror. But he was right. ‘If I clap my hands, you need to leave.’
‘If you even look like you’re trying to clap, I’ll get out,’ Jason said, very seriously. Lydia felt the knot in her stomach loosen. ‘Give me a back-up signal, too.’
‘A back-up for our back-up? I love the way you think.’ Lydia touched his arm in gratitude. ‘Okay. If I stamp my right foot like this-’ she stood up and demonstrated. ‘That also means skedaddle.’
He nodded. A flash of excitement crossed his face. ‘Are you ready?’
Lydia took another deep swig from the whisky bottle. Things already seemed more manageable, but she noticed that her hand was gripping the bottle so tightly that her knuckles were white.
Outside a drizzle had started and the late afternoon had turned to twilight. Headlamps on the cars passing glowed with watery light and several windows in the surrounding buildings were lit from inside. Lydia went back inside and put on her leather jacket and sneaked a last pull on the whisky. She wasn’t stalling for time. It was just good sense.
‘Right,’ Lydia faced Jason. ‘I’m ready.’
He was visibly vibrating with the effort of being outside The Fork, his teeth clenched and a muscle jumping one cheek. ‘What do I do?’ he managed.
‘No idea,’ Lydia said. She reached out and touched his chest with the flat of her hand. It was predictably cold. ‘Hug me, I guess, but a bit… More?’
Jason stepped forward and put his arms around Lydia. He was chilly, but he felt more insubstantial than usual, which was good. She opened her mouth to say ‘can you…’ when she felt a familiar freezing sensation which stopped the words in her throat.
She closed her eyes and concentrated on breathing, not panicking.
The freezing sensation filled every millimetre of her body. She could tell that her body wanted to shiver but that it was frozen solid, no movement was possible. Which was going to make it difficult to use the special ‘exit’ signal. Don’t panic, Lydia. She sucked air in through her nose and forced herself to stay calm. ‘Jason?’ She thought the word, rather than speaking out loud, just in case he was somehow sharing her thoughts. Her eyes flew open, that was a terrible thought. Why hadn’t she considered the possibility that she might be inviting Jason to root around in her psyche.
She couldn’t see Jason and, perhaps it was her imagination, but maybe she felt slightly less frozen. She tried to speak. ‘Jason?’ The word came out in a croaky whisper, but there was an immediate reduction in the cold that filled her body. With that, she was able to flex her fingertips and open her mouth a little more easily.
‘Are you there?’
Immediately, her head nodded. Without her intending to do so.
‘Argh!’ Lydia didn’t mean to shout, but the sensation of being controlled by another being was bloody awful, worse than anything she could have imagined. It was downright eerie.
‘Don’t do that!’
Lydia experimented with moving her legs and found that she could walk. There was no way she was going to make it all the way to the tunnels in this state, though. Not under her own steam. She ordered an Uber and practised walking up and down the pavement while she waited.
When the driver arrived, Lydia was feeling a great deal warmer. This either meant she was adjusting to having Jason on-board or that he had disappeared and had gone to the place he had no control over. He could be floating away in the netherworld between the world of the living and the dead and she was about to visit the tunnels for no reason.
She called Faisal and to say he wasn’t thrilled to hear from her would be an understatement. ‘I can’t,’ he said, more than once. Lydia told him she would make it worth his while. She had sixty quid on her already, and figured she could promise him another fifty. Her determination not to override people’s free will with her Crow magic was going to be a costly way to do business.
Eventually Faisal caved and agreed to meet her at the entrance to the disused tunnels at Euston; the place she had first encountered Marty’s ghost. It was quiet on the platform and Faisal was easy to spot in his hi-vis jacket. He scowled as he pocketed the cash. ‘I can’t keep doing this. I’m going to get fired.’
‘You won’t get fired,’ Lydia said with total confidence. If she had to break her new rule and put the whammy on someone, she would make sure Faisal didn’t lose his livelihood for helping her. ‘And you’re doing a favour that will help a man in distress. This is a good thing.’
‘Who is in distress?’ Faisal wrinkled his nose. ‘Hang on, scrap that. I don’t want to know. Don’t tell me.’
Lydia realised that she felt entirely normal, maybe a little bit colder than usual, but it was hard to judge. She had the disappointing sensation that Jason had, indeed, disappeared. She pretended she didn’t remember the door code, letting Faisal key it in and then walked in ahead of him. Lydia figured that the more Faisal felt in control, the better.
‘I really shouldn’t be letting you down here. It’s not open to the public. We’re not insured for it. And you could get lost.’
Lydia shivered. ‘That’s why you’re looking after me. To make sure I don’t.’
They walked down the tunnels in awkward silence. Lydia couldn’t muster the energy to make conversation, as she was looking inward to see if she could sense Jason, while also sending out her awareness, on high alert for the whiff of Fox.
The dark and dusty tunnels were eerily familiar on this third visit and Lydia thought about saying to Faisal that she could make her own way to the crime scene. Then she imagined the metres of rock and rubble and buildings above, and felt them pressing down with a tangible, oppressive force, and she compressed her lips and forged on.
The emergency lighting cast a sickly glow and the air was stale. Passing a branching tunnel with a low ceiling and an ominous dripping sound, Lydia thought that it wasn’t the ideal place to get to know intimately, but investigators didn’t get to choose. She should have become a hotel reviewer or a chocolate taster.
Just at that moment, she felt the brush of fur along her cheek and the scent of rich earth after a summer rain filled her nose. She stopped walking. ‘We’re nearly there.’
Faisal gave her an impressed look. ‘You have a good memory.’
‘You need to wait here for me,’ Lydia said. Her fingers itched to produce her coin, but instead she added. ‘I’ll give you another twenty.’
‘Fine,’ Faisal said. He pulled out an old iPod and began playing a gem-matching game.
Lydia walked a few feet, the Fox scent getting stronger with every step. An archway led to the old ventilation tunnel, the place where Lydia had found Marty’s body. There wasn’t any police tape and the only sign that it had been a crime scene was a discarded pair of over-shoe booties in blue plastic. There was no sign of Marty’s ghost, except for the strong Fox scent. He had to be close and Lydia tried not to imagine him watching her from the shadows.
‘Jason?’ She whispered his name. ‘Are you here?’ She had been going to say ‘there’ or ‘still inside’, but they both felt impossibly creepy.
A
chill appeared in her stomach, in an extremely small and concentrated area. It was as if she had swallowed a pebble of ice, which was growing with every passing second. Now, her entire abdomen was burning with the cold. ‘Jason?’ Lydia said, a little louder, trying all the while not to allow the panic to grow along with the sensation of being flash frozen from the inside out.
A ghostly shape was emerging from the curved side of the tunnel. It was almost entirely translucent and extremely difficult to see in the dim light. Lydia recognised Marty’s stringy long hair, though.
‘Jason! Now, would be excellent.’ She closed her eyes for a couple of seconds as the tingling and burning of cold morphed into acute pain. Any second now she would go numb, surely. She squeezed her eyes and curled her fists, willing the pain to pass.
And then, abruptly it did.
‘Bloody hell.’
Jason’s voice, carrying through the air, was as miraculous as the sight of his thin form, wavering inches from her. He moved back and smiled. ‘It worked!’
Through Jason, Lydia could see Marty’s form and, through that, the tunnel stretching away into the distance. Two sets of vibrating images had given her an instant headache but she couldn’t look away.
‘Marty,’ she said, keeping her voice as gentle as possible. ‘Don’t be afraid. We’re here to help.’
Jason turned to look and Marty’s ghost drifted to the other side of the tunnel. It didn’t move naturally the way that Jason did. Marty’s ghost moved like a thing that could fly, a thing that was not of this world.
‘Jesus,’ Jason breathed the word, like a true invocation rather than a curse. ‘Is that what I look like?’
‘Not usually,’ Lydia said, keeping her eyes fixed on Marty. ‘Don’t be scared,’ she said, again. ‘Can you see my friend Jason? He wanted to meet you. We’re just here to talk.’
Marty’s mouth opened, but no sound came out. He didn’t look like he was trying to scream or shout, though, unlike last time they met. His previous expression of agonised fury had been replaced with something approaching relaxation. It showed how handsome he had been in life and let Lydia see the Fox Family resemblance.
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