French Leave (A King's Watch Story Book 4)
Author: Hayden, Mark
Date: 2020-06-24
Keywords: Urban Fantasy
Description: A King’s Watch Story
Publisher: Paw Press

Table of Contents

1. A Note to the Reader
2. 1 — Judgement Day
3. 2 — Sisters. Who’d have ’em?
4. 3 — Smoke and Mirrors
5. 4 — Everything Happens for a Reason
6. 5 — Blessings
7. 6 — A Body at Rest
8. 7 — When acted on by Outside Forces
9. 8 — Will gain Momentum
10. 9 — Acceleration
11. 10 — Lounging Around
12. 11 — Enemies, Old and New
13. 12 — Eagle’s Nest
14. 13 — It’s always Unlucky for Someone
15. 14 — French Left
16. Author’s Note

1. Table of Contents

FRENCH LEAVE

A King’s Watch Story - Book 4

by Mark Hayden

01 Edition June 2020 1st Release
ePub Edition February 2021

Copyright © Paw Press 2020
www.pawpress.co.uk

Front Cover © Lawston Design 2020
www.lawstondesign.com

Images © Shutterstock

Welcome to French Leave…

This story is a shorter adventure from the tales of the King’s Watch and takes place alongside the main narrative.

To be specific, this story takes place slightly before but mostly after The Seventh Star, Seventh Book of the King’s Watch.

You don’t need to have read any of the Books to follow this story.

All the characters mentioned here, and all the special magickal terms are explained in the Who’s Who and Magickal Glossary on the Paw Press website:

www.pawpress.co.uk

1 — Judgement Day

Conrad Clarke

Let me take you back.

Back before the Battle of Brookford Farm, when Clan Salz had been founded and I’d picked up a pack of Mannwolves.

Back before my inauguration as Deputy Constable and Lord Guardian of the North, when I’d nearly died of blood loss and hypothermia.

Back before Tara Doyle/Princess Birkdale had sashayed into my little world.

Back before the Bollywood party, when so much of our lives had changed. Especially Myfanwy’s – it was after the party that she and Ben threw caution to the winds and Myfanwy conceived.

The day before the party, her fate had been at the crossroads for a totally different reason: the first official inspection of her confinement in Clerkswell. Because Myfanwy is under a court order, she has to have a supervisor, and that would be me. The court requires that her confinement is monitored, and so the Boss had come up to cast her eye over things. Hannah had asked me a few questions, and then I’d signed a form to say that Myfanwy had not, to my knowledge, breached her conditions. Hannah had then disappeared into the library with a very nervous Myfanwy, and we’d gathered outside to wait…

‘Do you think she’ll pass?’ asked Erin nervously.

‘Why aye, of course she’ll pass, pet,’ said Vicky. She reached out and took Erin’s hand. Vicky gave it a squeeze and kept hold of it to reassure Erin and to put a stop to Erin’s Lady Macbeth impersonation. Erin had been wringing her hands for at least half an hour, and I haven’t seen her this worked up since she was caught with a shotgun. By Vicky.

Erin is Myfanwy’s best friend, and Vicky is Myfanwy’s closest friend (there is a difference). Also waiting outside the library was my little (half) sister, Sofía. She’s only nineteen, and being nineteen, she was on her phone. She was there, though, and that’s what counts.

Missing from the vigil were Myfanwy’s fiancé, Ben Thewlis, and my own fiancée, Mina. I still love saying that: my fiancée. Ben was at work and giving Myfanwy some space, while Mina was outside supervising the workmen.

Sofía looked up from her phone. ‘She is very scary, your boss. In the car, she says nothing and stares out of the window all the time. She nearly bites Vicky’s head off when Vicky puts the radio on.’

‘You get used to her,’ said Vicky. ‘She doesn’t believe there’s actually a real world outside London. Bringing her to deepest Gloucestershire was always going to be stressful.’ Vicky glanced at me and shook her head slightly, unseen by the others. We know the Boss best, and we know the real reason that Hannah is in a foul mood. I nodded back: we’ll keep this to ourselves.

‘It must be bad news,’ said Erin. ‘They’re taking so long.’

‘This is Myfanwy we’re on about,’ said Vicky. ‘She can talk the hind leg off a donkey at the best of times. When she’s flustered, she’s like a tap with no handle.’

‘Si,’ agreed Sofía. ‘She talks more than Mamá.’

At that moment, the double doors were thrown open and a beaming Myfanwy waved a piece of paper like someone who’s just passed their driving test at the fourth attempt.

Erin and Vicky piled in for a group hug, with Sofía joining the queue. Being two heads taller than all of them, I got a good view of the Boss slipping out behind the scrum. She nodded towards the back door and I shouted a loud Well Done to Myfanwy before following Hannah outside.

‘I’ve come out for some quiet, and now this!’ said Hannah when the noise of pneumatic hammers shattered the air.

A team of burly men were putting the finishing touches to a giant marquee, overseen by the diminutive form of Mina, who knows nothing about tents but is an expert on motivation by surveillance. She saw us and came over.

‘How did it go?’ she said.

‘No issues,’ said Hannah. ‘All good. How’s the pavilion coming along?’

Mina tsked. ‘The marquee is on schedule, but the floor is behind.’ Her phone rang and she checked the screen. ‘That’s the caterers. Excuse me.’

‘Come on,’ I said to Hannah. ‘Let’s escape. There’s a couple of things I need to show you.’ I leaned into the scullery to grab a couple of coats, mine and one of Erin’s (she leaves clothes everywhere. Nightmare). The sun was shining, but this was late September in the countryside, and the Boss was dressed for a London office; I didn’t want her moaning about the cold.

She accepted the coat with some reluctance. ‘Where’s this thing been?’

‘Mostly on the peg since Erin bought it. Over here.’

I led Hannah away from the formal gardens to the stables, one of which houses Erin’s scriptorium and another is for my new horse. Evenstar is a magnificent grey filly, a gift from the Mowbrays of Cornwall. Hannah was suitably impressed. From a distance.

I took a carrot out of the sack. ‘Give her this. She really doesn’t bite.’

Hannah looked from me to the horse. This may be the closest she’s been to one in her life. She wasn’t happy, but the Mage who’d taken down a Revenant wasn’t going to pass the challenge of feeding a horse. Before I could stop her, she offered the carrot on her palm, and a rather hungry Evenstar went in for the full nuzzle-slurp-lick-crunch. The Boss’s eyes bulged with shock, and for the second time today I reached into my pocket for the specially purchased wet wipes.

While Hannah wiped her hands, I gave Evenstar’s nose a rub. ‘There’s an enchanted saddle, too, but Eseld Mowbray wouldn’t tell me what it does, and I’m a bit nervous to try it for myself. Myfanwy has no clue, either.’

‘Don’t ask me. I wouldn’t know one end of a saddle from the other.’ She threw the wipes in a rubbish bag and grinned. ‘I hear that Eseld was a bit of a tease in more ways than one. Rumour has it that she tried to chat up both you and Saffron.’

This was 100% true. I gave her a blank look and said, ‘You shouldn’t listen to rumours, ma’am.’

She laughed, ‘Good advice,’ and then held her finger and thumb together. ‘Do you know, I was that close to hitting Myfanwy with a Silence. She wittered on so much that she nearly confessed to growing cannabis with your sister.’

I snorted like Evenstar. ‘Don’t. I have to close my ears to that rumour as well. Sofía has adopted Vicky, Myvvy and Erin as surrogate magickal big sisters, to go with her real life big sister.’

‘She could do worse. A lot worse. How’s it going for Sofía at Salomon’s House? She’s been studying there for, what, three weeks?’

‘Yes. It’s going well, I think. Sofía’s good at changing the subject when I bring it up. I’m sure that if there were a problem, Cora would have tipped me off. I’ll ask her tomorrow.’

When I said Dean Cora’s name, Hannah looked away, staring at the top of the marquee. ‘Cora’s had a lot on her mind with the election. You’re right, though. Conrad Clarke’s little sister won’t be getting a free pass at the Invisible College.’

I walked out of the stable towards the south-east corner of the Elvenham gardens, demarcated by a neatly trimmed hawthorn hedge. I led her to a gate and showed her the five acre pasture on the other side. In case you’re wondering, five acres is two and a half international sized football pitches.

‘This is all that’s left of the original Elvenham Grange Farm,’ I said. ‘We own it, but we’ve leased it out for grazing since forever.’

‘Good for you,’ she said, giving me a sideways look. ‘Tell me what’s so impressive, because to me it looks like a field.’ She pushed herself onto her toes. ‘A field with sheep.’

‘The sheep are the important part. Mind your ears.’ I whistled loudly. A special whistle. Then I opened the gate and my dog, Scout, bounded up.

Scout used to be the vessel for my Familiar Spirit, but that bond was violently severed by a homicidal Witch. Hannah had been very solicitous about my loss when she arrived earlier; she knows a lot about losing people. She’d even let Scout lick her, and that had been the first use of the wet wipes.

Having already met Hannah, Scout ignored her and bounded into the field. He’s still an adolescent in dog years, and full of energy, even by Border Collie standards. Too full. We have to amuse him in relays, and now we were about to play his favourite game.

‘Watch this,’ I said to Hannah. ‘Away, Scout!’

He shot off to the right, a black and white sheep-seeking missile. They were munching happily at the far side, and Scout and I spent a couple of minutes working the small flock until he had corralled them in the corner near the gate.

Admiration and amused mystification were competing on Hannah’s face. ‘Impressive. Pointless, but impressive, unless you’re thinking of a career change. Does the farmer mind you boys playing games with his livestock?’

I pretended to be offended. ‘First of all, Scout shouldn’t be able to work like that without years of practice. The Familiar Bond has left a mark, and I think he can smell some types of magick, too.’

‘Now that is interesting. You should get it checked out. You also said firstly, and I know you, Conrad Clarke. What else?’

‘Those aren’t Bridge Farm sheep. They belong to the King’s Watch.’

She does know me well. She didn’t flinch. She gave me her death stare and said, ‘Explain.’

I took an envelope from my jacket. ‘They’re not just any sheep. They’re Badger Faced Welsh Mountain sheep. Hardy lot. I bought them last week. Here’s the bill.’

She made no move to take the envelope. ‘And why do I need a flock of Welsh Faced Badgers?’

‘Anna from Lunar Hall has named the blood price for her sister. Thirteen ewes and a ram. The ram is elsewhere for obvious reasons.’

She sucked air through her teeth. ‘Oy vey, Conrad. Are you sure about this?’

Let me take you back even further – right to the beginning. To join the Watch, I’d saved one Witch and arrested another, a woman called Keira Faulkner. During the operation, Sister Lika had been murdered, and Keira had been complicit.

According to Keira, her partner in crime had murdered Lika, and I was willing to accept that Keira would have let Lika live. However, that didn’t absolve Keira from aiding and abetting a murderous Summoner, and for that I’d always said she had to pay.

Keira was in exile for life, but she wanted to come home. Only the Cloister Court could shorten the sentence, and Keira’s mother had come to me. Augusta Faulkner is one of the most tenacious and highly regarded barristers in the Court, and she wanted me to intercede on her daughter’s behalf.

Lika’s twin, Anna, had been asked to name the wergild, the blood price for settling the feud, and only when that debt was paid would I negotiate with Keira. The sheep in the field were what Anna had demanded, and soon they would be delivered.

Once Anna had been satisfied, I’d said that Keira should go looking for a fugitive called Adaryn ap Owain. In case you’d forgotten, Adaryn was one of the Brotherhood of the Dragon.

From that Brotherhood, three are dead, Gwyddno is in prison on a Scottish island and Myfanwy is living in confinement in my house. That left Adaryn. She had fled to France, but her last act had been to stop Vicky’s heart.

I still get flashbacks to that moment, and I know that Vicky does, too. Adaryn had placed her hand on Vicky’s chest and used magick. Vicky looked it up afterwards, and if you want to be medical about it, Adaryn had frozen the Sinoatrial Node, a bunch of cells in the heart. I knew when Adaryn dropped Vicky’s lifeless body on to the wet grass was that I had a tiny window to get that heart beating again. I also knew that I had no idea how to do it.

And that’s the reason Myfanwy lives here: she knew what to do, and she did it. Vicky lived, without any physical damage, and Adaryn got away.

If Hannah accepted the bill from me, she’d be knocking over the first domino in a chain reaction that could be violent: I was not going to let Adaryn walk the earth as a free woman one second longer than I could.

She was doing what a good CO should do: check that I fully understand something. I nodded and took a deep breath. ‘I’m sure about this, Hannah. I know the risks.’

‘Very well.’ She took the envelope and peered inside. ‘Is that all? No wonder farmers are always moaning if this is all they get for fourteen sheep. What’s this?’ She held up a scrappy piece of yellow paper.

‘Quote for transportation. They need to move soon. Keira has said that her mother will pay, so send the bill to Augusta.’

‘Fine.’ She put the bill in the pocket of Erin’s coat. I’d have to remind her about that. ‘You can let the sheep go now. That dog looks hungry.’

‘He’s a teenage boy. He’s always hungry. To me, Scout!’

He trotted over and I closed the gate before giving him a treat. Hannah made no move to leave and looked across the pasture. When she looked back, her eyes only met mine for a fraction of a second before dropping to her boots. She moved one foot in a circle around a clump of grass.

‘You did a good thing by taking in Myfanwy when no one else would. I couldn’t have done it, and it’s worked out well for everyone. Now that the inspection’s over, I’ve got it worked out. There’s a train at five o’clock that will get me home before Shabbos begins. If you could run me to the station, you can get on with planning for tomorrow.’

This was what Vicky had meant when she shook her head at me. We’re hosting a charity Bollywood party tomorrow, hence the marquee. Hannah had only accepted the invitation reluctantly, and now she was trying to bail out.

‘What about tonight?’ I said. ‘Myfanwy has put a lot of time and effort into making a kosher dinner, and she can’t wait for you to meet Ben. He wants to see you as well.’

She looked up. ‘And that’s killing me, Conrad, but if I stay tonight, I shall have to stay tomorrow. I can’t do it. Mina won’t miss me.’

‘She will, but that’s not the big issue. I’ll mind even more, and believe me, the person who’ll mind the most is you.’

‘And now you’re my Rabbi all of a sudden?’

‘When you get to Ruth’s house tonight, she’ll give you grief and you’ll hate yourself. Tomorrow you’ll go to synagogue and hate yourself even more.’

And then she did something she only does in extremis – she took off her black headscarf and exposed the scarring and depression in her head where there’s a titanium plate standing in for a missing piece of her skull. She rubbed some scar tissue vigorously and winced in pain when she hit a nerve.

Her eyes watered in response to the pain and then she started crying properly. ‘Do you know what, Conrad? Since I lost Mikhi, I have been to Windsor Castle and met the Queen; I have attended Salomon’s House banquets and made speeches; I have gone to Cora’s Halloween parties. I have done all of those things, but not once have I been to a mundane social event. Not once.’

She held up her hand. She often does that, as if she knows what I’m going to say. She’s usually right. ‘And don’t tell me that there will be magickal guests tomorrow. That’s not the point. The point is that I will be a freak on show to the mundane world. Your world.’

I pulled my lip and checked the wind direction before getting out my cigarettes. I lit one quickly and looked at the heavy mascara trickling down her face. She’d bared her soul to me, showing the damage underneath, both physical and mental.

‘Answer me one question. Honestly.’ I pointed up at the sky. ‘The Lord is watching.’

She burst out laughing. ‘Did you practise saying that with a straight face, because as Hashem is indeed my witness, I couldn’t have said it.’

I raised my eyebrows and waited.

‘He may or may not be watching,’ she said, ‘but I know that he sent you to test me and torment me. Go on. Ask.’

‘Will you feel worse going to Mina’s party or going home knowing that you let everyone down?’

‘Curse you, Conrad. I should never have let Ruth invite you to Friday night dinner. I don’t want people knowing I can be almost human.’ She looked away again and stuffed her hands into the pockets of Erin’s coat. ‘I don’t want to sit in the shadows with Miss Parkes. It’s the thought of anyone seeing just how badly damaged I am.’

I nodded. ‘When Mina was deported from India, you saw her arrive in handcuffs. She took her dress off to show you the swastika on her chest. She’s going to do your fitting personally. Just the two of you, in private. And she’ll never breathe a word to anyone. The secrets of the changing room are as sacrosanct as the confessional. And yes, I did practise that one.’

‘I surrender. And besides, it’ll save you a trip to London.’ She raised her hands in submission and realised that she was still holding her headscarf. ‘Tie this on, will you?’

I obliged. ‘How the hell do you know Miss Parkes?’

She groaned. ‘Myfanwy told me the names of everyone in the village, what they’re like and who they’re related to. Miss Parkes is one of her referees.’

I stepped back, and she took out her phone to check herself in the mirror app. ‘You have to smuggle me in. I can’t be seen like this. I mean it.’

‘I guessed.’

We started walking. ‘I’ve been trying not to think about the party, hoping it would go away,’ she said. ‘Tell me what’s happening exactly. And why are you having a marquee when your house is massive?’

‘Dancing. And numbers. And the risk of damage. And the big screen.’

‘Big screen?’

‘You’ll see. That one’s a surprise.’

‘And Mina organised all this?’

‘It was her vision. She, Myfanwy and Erin turned it into reality as a joint effort.’

We had arrived at the morning room, one of the three entrances to Elvenham House. I checked that the coast was clear and showed her the old servants’ staircase. ‘Why would I have to go to London?’ I asked.

She started climbing the steep, bare stairs. ‘Like the big screen, you’ll see. It’s my surprise.’

2 — Sisters. Who’d have ’em?

The house was a maelstrom of (mostly) women – the Clerkswell Coven running about organising, guests coming to try on the Indian fashions and Mike from the Inkwell setting up the bar. Me? I was on point duty in the hall.

We’d thrown open the front doors for the afternoon and a steady flow of village residents were wandering in and looking lost. And then I heard my sister’s voice outside. Not my little sister, my original sister. Rachael. She was telling someone about the dragon over the doorway and that they had to salute it. I froze to the tiles.

She came into the house, but she was looking over her shoulder. Who the hell? Rachael wasn’t even supposed to be coming, never mind bringing guests.

She turned to me. ‘Hello, brother. Look who’s come to see you.’

Two figures stepped out of the light. ‘Hello, Conrad,’ said Eseld Mowbray. ‘What a lovely house.’ Her brother, Cador, nodded a quick hello.

Who to hug first? I’m afraid that detail wasn’t covered in RAF officers’ protocol training.

I moved in their general direction, and my silence allowed Rachael to get a dig in. ‘Elvenham’s not as big as Pellacombe,’ she said to Eseld. ‘Or so they say. I’ve never been invited.’

That made my mind up, and I opted to shake Cador’s hand first, then hug Eseld.

‘Elvenham is smaller, but it’s a lot older,’ said Eseld. ‘It’s got so much character! Good to see you again, Conrad.’

‘And you. How’s things?’

The relationships between Rachael, the two Mowbrays and me are complicated, to say the least, and they form the story of the Eight Kings. For now, I’ll just say this: that the Mowbrays are very rich, that Rachael looks after their investments, that Cador is trying to sleep with Rachael and that Eseld had tried to sleep with me. And Saffron.

Another figure appeared – Alain Dupont. He stood on the threshold looking terrified until I leaned over and shook his hand, dragging him into the hall and bringing him properly into the group. Alain is a postgraduate intern at Rachael’s firm and noteworthy for being French, charming, dependable, useful and broke.

Rachael was enjoying every second of my unease. How the hell was I going to manage this? Eseld had noticed and tried to pour oil on family waters. ‘Rachael said you wouldn’t mind her coming.’

‘Why would he mind?’ said Raitch. ‘I’m his sister!’

Cador laughed and looked at Eseld. ‘Isn’t that enough to make him mind? Why do you think I’ve kept Eseld locked away in Cornwall?’

Eseld ignored him. ‘I spoke to Mina the other day, and she told me how busy you are. I booked us a big AirBnB in the village to keep out of your way. Now shall we get fitted? We can catch up later.’

Rachael was torn between winding me up and the risk of upsetting her biggest clients; in this instance, Mammon claimed the point. She glanced into the dining room and had her back to the hall when Sofía appeared. My little sister saw Alain first and gave him a friendly, ‘¡Hola!’, and then she saw Eseld and gave a slight bow. ‘Doctora Mowbray.’

‘Whoah!’ said Rachael. ‘How do you two know each other?’

Sofía flinched, caught between several worlds at once. She frowned and put her foot right in it. ‘She is my tutor, of course.’

Rachael’s impeccable eyebrows shot up? ‘Tutor? Of what?’

‘Riding,’ I jumped in, trying to stop the magickal and mundane worlds colliding.

‘That’s right,’ said Eseld smoothly. ‘We go to Hyde Park on Wednesdays. Favour to Conrad.’

Rachael was having none of that. She opened her mouth to object, and I was only saved by the dog.

Scout had smelt someone familiar (small ‘f’) and bounded in to say hello – to Eseld. He’s not daft. He knows exactly which humans are most likely to have treats, and this put Rachael’s nose even further out of joint.

‘Scram,’ I said to Sofía. She scrammed. ‘Girls in the dining room,’ I announced rather loudly. ‘Boys with me.’ I turned and went into the library, leaving Cador and Alain to follow me for their fittings.

Cador was dispatched in no time, and he looked like a Mughal prince. Even Hannah thinks he’s hot.

Alain was taking a lot longer, until I realised he was spending more time looking at the price list than the clothes. ‘Put M Dupont’s outfit on the Elvenham account,’ I said to the lad.

‘Certainly, sir. No problem.’

Alain’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Thank you, mon ami.’ He gathered his outfit and added a bold red sash. We moved towards the door and he saw Cador and Rachael together. ‘Help me, Conrad. What is happening here?’

‘You what?’ I said. ‘Have you been having elocution lessons?’

He went bright red. ‘Your sister is a bully. She says I have to pronounce my aspidistras.’

‘Aspirates. “H” sounds.’

‘I know that. I call them aspidistras to annoy ’er. I mean her. What is going on, mon ami?’

‘Alain, my friend, you do not want to know. Why are you even here? I would have invited you if I thought you’d come.’

‘She has brought me to watch the Mowbrays. Now that their father has died, she is frightened of losing them. There are five trusts to deal with, not just one.’

That sounded exactly like Rachael. ‘What would you say if I told Mike on the bar to put all your drinks on my tab?’

‘I would say merci, and I would say what are my orders?’

‘Keep Rachael away from Sofía, simple as that.’

He grinned. ‘After the first two bottles of Champagne, that will be easy. See you later, Conrad. Oh, and Mademoiselle Mowbray was right: your hhhhhouse is beautiful. Au revoir.’

He left with the Mowbrays, and I scrammed like Sofía before Rachael could grab me.

I took a trip outside to check on Mina, and she pronounced herself as satisfied as she could be, a situation I promptly spoilt by telling her about Rachael’s surprise appearance.

Mina pursed her lips. ‘Do you think she will cause trouble?

It’s not that Rachael and Mina dislike each other. Far from it. It’s just that they’re both, in their way, Alpha Females. I think there’s a tiny part of both of them that thinks the other should know their place. Occasionally. Just a little bit.

‘Of course she’ll cause trouble,’ I replied, trying to soften it with a grin. ‘It’s just a question of when and who for.’

I thought Mina was going to hit me, then a wave of sympathy came over her. ‘I hope she doesn’t cause trouble for herself. That would be the worst outcome.’

I sighed. ‘It would. I’ve bribed Alain to keep an eye on her.’

‘Good.’

Eseld appeared from the morning room, looking around and smiling. She had managed to charm Mike into letting her buy a bottle of champagne a day early, and brought it out with a clutch of glasses.

‘You managed to escape from Rachael,’ I said.

‘Yeah. She’s talking to someone called … Carole?’

‘Her oldest friend. Yes. I won’t bore you with the details.’

‘I get it: it’s a village thing. Right. Where’s the designated smoking area? I know there is one, somewhere. And do either of you want a glass to steady your nerves? I do.’

‘Is that OK?’ I asked Mina

‘Go,’ she said. ‘I need to organise Hannah’s private fitting.’ She looked at Eseld for a moment before pointing a finger. ‘I would love a glass, thank you. Under no circumstances are you to let Conrad have more than one. Understand?’

Eseld held up her arms in surrender and poured three glasses with practised ease.

‘This way,’ I said, and led her to the stables. We put our glasses down for a moment, and I put on the light so that she could check on Evenstar. ‘How’s things?’ I said, leaving it open for her to choose which topic to address.

‘Early days,’ she said. She had a good look at Evenstar, checked her coat and hooves and fed her a carrot. Satisfied, she wandered back to her glass and scrounged a cigarette off me. That’s the truly rich for you. ‘You know what, Conrad? I think going to Salomon’s House was the best piece of advice I’ve ever been given. Thank you. There is a downside, though.’

‘You have to behave like a responsible adult?’

She laughed. ‘And that’s never been my strong point. There’s something worse though. I should have realised it from the way that Saffron treated me when I hit on her, but I really knew it when I saw my first class: I’m getting old, and it’s no use trying to pretend I’m still in my twenties. I’m not.’ She paused to empty her glass. ‘And then one of the kids – the students – said something gobby to me, and I realised that I’m the authority figure. I’m part of the system she’s rebelling against. I went home and cried into a whole bottle of chardonnay.’

‘Because you don’t have anyone to rebel against any more?’

She looked at the marquee. ‘Yeah. That was the first time that I really missed my dad. The next morning, I dyed my hair black and I’m growing it out.’

‘It’s not so bad being an authority figure. You haven’t met Vicky yet. She calls me Uncle Conrad.’

She managed a smile. ‘Suits you.’

‘And Doctor Mowbray suits you. I didn’t know you’d done postgraduate study.’

She gave me her dirty grin. ‘I hadn’t. A point that was made very forcefully when the Inner Council met to ratify my appointment.’

‘Ouch. I’ve been there and it wasn’t a pleasant experience.’

‘So I heard. Cora was brilliant, though. She reminded the Council that they could award a doctorate on prior attainment.’

‘Let me guess: bloody Oldcastle kicked up a stink.’

She grimaced. ‘He did. What a mouldy old fart he is. He tipped me right over the edge.’

I raised my eyebrows. ‘Go on.’

‘You know that dome-thing they sit under? Well, I used the Ley lines to put Wards all round it and stood outside. Then I challenged them to get out.’

‘I’ll bet that went down a storm. Did anyone take up the challenge?’

‘Oldcastle proposed that I be barred, and then Heidi Marston pointed out that I’d just walk off and leave them. She proposed that if she couldn’t get out, I could have the doctorate.’

Heidi Marston is not someone I trust, particularly, even if she is Saffron’s cousin. ‘She always likes a challenge,’ I said. ‘Did she get out?’

Eseld poured herself more Champagne. I put my hand over my still half-full glass. ‘No,’ she said. ‘And now I’m Doctor Mowbray. Over tea, you’ll be pleased to know that I heard the Proctor say, “She’s worse than Conrad Bloody Clarke, and I didn’t think that was possible.” So there you go.’

‘Congratulations. How come this is the first I’ve heard that you’re Sofía’s tutor?’

‘Because I asked her not to say anything in case it didn’t work out and we could pretend it never happened. It’s complicated. Selena Bannister’s been brilliant with me, but I’ve had to have a crash course in Salomon’s House politics. Can I have a look at this well of yours?’

‘Of course. It’s this way.’

We walked away from the stables, towards the edge of Elvenham, where the gardens turn into woods and the original Clerk’s Well is located. It used to be a Fae gateway and still has magick. As we crossed the gardens, she picked up on what she’d been saying. ‘Being Sofía’s tutor was Cora Hardisty’s idea. She said I was the only person in the college who wouldn’t look on the Dragonslayer’s half-sister as a pawn.’

That was troubling, to say the least. ‘Is she doing okay?’

‘You might find out tonight.’

We arrived at the well and sat on the stone rim. ‘The Allfather enhanced you here, didn’t he?’ asked Eseld. I nodded. ‘And you proposed to Mina.’

‘I did.’

She pointed down the slope a little, to where a staff of wood was sticking out of the ground. It was protected by a Scout-proof fence. ‘You’ve got magickal bits and pieces all over this house and grounds. The well, that staff, the dragon-stone, your King’s Bounty. It needs proper protection, Conrad.’

She was right. ‘Yes, and it does worry me. Mina wants the wedding to be here next year, and I don’t want to be a gun to be part of my outfit.’

‘No, you don’t. You’ve certainly got the space for a wedding here. Wise move.’

‘It’s not just the space. It’s Myfanwy. Mina wouldn’t exclude her by getting married outside the parish. I don’t suppose there’s any chance you could help?’

‘Of course.’ She pointed to the champagne. ‘I’ll do it tomorrow morning.’

‘We’ll have to pay you.’

She was shaking her head. ‘I owe you, Conrad. I’ll never be able to repay that debt.’

‘Don’t think that, Eseld. Vicky owes Myfanwy her life. There’s no bigger debt than that. The only way to repay it is to become friends and forget it.’

‘Can we be friends?’ she said. ‘Vicky and Saffron are too young to be a threat to Mina, but I’m older. She won’t be happy if I’m your friend long-term.’

‘I know. Be friends with Rachael, if you can stomach her. Then I’ll be in your debt.’

‘Deal.’ She looked at me with a grin. ‘Can we have just the one proper snog? Just so I know what I’m missing?’

As Mina won’t see this story for a long time, I’ll be honest: I was sorely tempted. Very sorely tempted. Responsible-Adult-Eseld was even more attractive than the fancy dress version. ‘Better to leave it to the imagination,’ I said. ‘Let’s go.’

We paused at the fence around the staff. Eseld walked round the fence and looked at the well. All Wards need a source of energy. ‘Have you ever drawn a Ley line, Conrad?’

‘Way beyond me. I can barely sense them without a dowsing rod.’

She nodded. ‘I’ll knock something up tomorrow that should last a few weeks. We’ll have to see about something more permanent before winter bites.’

‘Thanks.’

3 — Smoke and Mirrors

Slowly, the chaos wound down and the contractors left us in peace. Eseld and her party had left for the AirBnB, and I was able to lock the doors. I breathed a deep sigh of relief and found Mina watching me with a smile.

‘That’s about how I feel.’ She came over and rested herself against me. I bent down and kissed the top of her head.

I looked around. We were alone. ‘How did it go with Hannah?’

She gave my waist a squeeze. ‘Good. I think I understand her a lot better now. You’re all in for a shock tomorrow.’

‘Oh?’

‘And a surprise. My lips are sealed. Come on, I’m starving.’

Everyone else was already in the kitchen for Friday Night Dinner – or Shabbos Supper if you prefer. The minute she’d been released from the inspection, Myfanwy had locked herself in the kitchen with Erin, Sofía and Vicky to produce a combination kosher/Hindu feast.

I found Hannah talking earnestly to Ben Thewlis at one end of the table while the others served steaming platters of food that we’d be eating for a week, and Vicky immediately grabbed Mina to give them a hand.

I plonked myself next to Ben, and found that Hannah had been explaining the law on marketing magickally enhanced products. ‘An interesting topic,’ I observed.

‘An important one,’ said Hannah. ‘Ben is Entangled in our world, and he told me that Myfanwy wants to help him. Professionally.’

Poor bloke looked a bit lost, and I don’t blame him. We men are simple creatures, really. Ben knows only three things with confidence: how to grow cereal crops, how to play cricket and that he loves Myfanwy. None of those prepared him for England’s Peculier Constable rattling on about the Cloister Court. He was trying to keep up, but the look in his eyes told me that he needed rescuing.

‘Hannah, your glass is empty,’ I said, reaching for the wine.

‘I’m fine, Conrad,’ she said, sitting back.

‘You’ll need it for Kiddush,’ I said, filling the glass.

‘I …’

‘You didn’t think we’d sit down without it, did you?’

She stared at the folded hands in her lap and said nothing.

I leaned over and whispered, ‘We’re expecting it, Hannah. You won’t be happy unless it’s done, and we won’t be happy unless you’re happy.’

She looked up and smiled. ‘Putting the guilt on me? Are you sure you’re not Jewish, Conrad? That’s exactly what my mother would say.’ She realised that everyone was watching her and laughed. ‘You’re relentless, aren’t you? All of you.’

Mina bowed. ‘Relentless is our middle name, Hannah-ji.’

Hannah stood up. ‘Then let us begin.’

Since that night, we’ve argued a lot about who was to blame for what happened after dinner. A lot of people wanted to take a share, mainly to protect Sofía. I kept my counsel, mostly because I was busy dealing with the fallout. It started innocently enough, with Sofía sending a text to Eseld:

Do you want to come and watch my show?

Nothing wrong with that, but because Sofía only knows Eseld as her tutor, she didn’t think through what might happen next.

Eseld’s party were having dinner at the Inkwell when she got the message, and Eseld wasn’t going to come on her own, was she? And when all is said and done, part of Elvenham will always be Rachael’s home.

And part of Rachael will always belong to Elvenham. Especially the part that knows which floorboards to avoid if you don’t want people to hear you coming.

Sorry. I’m getting ahead of myself, and I haven’t even told you what show Sofía was planning. The first I heard of it was when Ben and I started to clear away the meal – we were on washing up duty.

‘What happens now?’ asked Hannah. ‘Do we sit around and demolish Conrad’s cellar?’

‘Sounds like a plan,’ said Vicky. In case you hadn’t guessed, a lot of hard work had already gone into demolishing my cellar, and Hannah had relaxed a lot during the meal.

‘I could try out my fête du feu,’ said Sofía.

‘Ooh,’ said Hannah.

‘No!’ said Vicky. ‘Really?’

‘You go girl,’ said Erin.

‘Someone please tell me what’s going on?’

That was me. Of course it was me. I tell you, when it comes to magick, my ignorance is still visible from space.

Hannah waved her glass vaguely in Sofía’s direction. ‘Your sister clearly has a talent you didn’t tell me about.’ She waited for Sofía to explain, but first year Aspirants don’t generally interrupt the Peculier Constable, so Hannah pressed on. ‘It’s a Fire Party in English, but that doesn’t tell you anything. It started in Victorian parlours, a lot like the one you’ve got here, Conrad.’

‘It’s a drawing room, Boss. Parlours are for the lower middle classes.’

Hannah paused, then burst out laughing. ‘I love it! I knew there was something about being your CO that I really liked, and it’s the chance to order you around even though you have a separate staircase for servants.’

‘Go on, Hannah-ji,’ said Mina. ‘Tell us about the fête du feu.’ She was by far the most sober of us, because it was her turn in the spotlight tomorrow.

‘Well. It’s a game, of sorts, played by Mages. The artiste – that would be Sofía – performs magic tricks, like a conjurer, but some of them use real magick and some use sleight of hand. The audience form teams and bet money on whether they can guess which tricks have magick.’

I frowned. ‘Gambling?’ I didn’t like the sound of that. Sofía is partly my responsibility over here, and it sounded like Eseld had something to do with her new-found side-hustle. If Sofía got fleeced, I wouldn’t be very happy.

‘Calm down, big brother,’ said Vicky. She knows me too well. ‘The rules mean that the artiste has no stake. The worst that can happen is that they perform for nothing.’ She looked far too excited for my liking. ‘I haven’t seen one since I last went to one of Cora Hardisty’s parties. Go on, lass, I’d really love it.’

Sofía beamed. ‘I shall get ready.’

‘And I shall wait in the drawing room,’ said Hannah. ‘Who’s joining me?’

We split up – or they did. Ben and I knew our place.

Hannah, Myfanwy, Vicky and Erin went to the drawing room; Mina went to the library to go through her lists for tomorrow, and Sofía went to her room.

We got stuck into the washing up and were chatting amiably until I tried to get the fish kettle into the sink and splashed dirty water over one of my better shirts.

‘Damn. I’ll have to take this next door and give it a proper scrub.’

‘Bit of a come down for the Dragonslayer,’ said Ben. ‘Defeated by a fish kettle.’

‘Says the man putting potato salad into Tupperware boxes while wearing a National Trust pinny.’

‘You mean the man who wore proper protective clothing.’

‘Ha ha.’

I took the copper monstrosity into the scullery and Rachael appeared from nowhere. It took all my training not to drop the pan on my leg.

‘Hello. I wasn’t expecting to see you again tonight,’ I said.

Rachael waited until I’d put the pan down and came over. ‘I wasn’t expecting to be here until our sister invited her tutor to a special performance of some sort. And when I get here, Ben calls you Dragonslayer, like it’s a name everyone uses.’ She came a step closer and grabbed my arm.

When Rachael’s had a few drinks, she can very quickly revert to being fourteen, when she was at the peak of her meanness and her tennis playing. She knows exactly where the scar is on my arm and twisted. Hard.

‘What the hell is going on at Ironmonger’s College, Conrad? Because I’m certain it’s not business studies.’ She twisted even harder. ‘And every time I ask Eseld, she changes the subject.’

Ironmonger’s College is the cover name for the Invisible College at Salomon’s House. It even has a website.

I carefully selected her ring finger and pulled it back until she had to let go of my arm. ‘You’re right. Sofía isn’t doing business studies. It’s not my place to tell you what she is studying. Nor is it Eseld’s. You could try Hannah.’

‘Your CO? No thanks. I don’t mind torturing you, but I’m not going to rock the boat tonight. Mina and Myfanwy would never forgive me.’

See? She can be very understanding when she wants to. She can also lie for England – she is a Clarke, after all.

‘Where are the others?’ I asked.

‘Cador drank water with the meal and went back to prep a court brief. Eseld’s gone to the drawing room and Alain went for a smoke. I’ll grab him, then Mina can introduce me to Hannah.’

I started cleaning the pan. ‘Mina’s in the library, working on the party.’

‘Sofía, then. She’s family, too.’

‘Upstairs rehearsing.’

She rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. Myfanwy can do it. She’ll tell me at least three things about Hannah that I’m not supposed to know. See you soon.’

It was that little detail that lulled me into a false sense of security – the fact that Myfanwy would spill Hannah’s secrets if no one stopped her. Because of that, I assumed Rachael would go straight to the drawing room with Alain, and once there, Eseld would ensure that any performance from Sofía would be entirely mundane. Wrong.

As soon as she was away from the kitchen, Rachael ordered Alain to stand watch at the foot of the main stairs, then she crept up them like a Ninja.

The first I knew about it was the screams.

Sofía’s room is an old store room, right next to the servants’ staircase, which naturally leads from the scullery. I was half way up the stairs before anyone else had even registered that there was a problem.

I emerged on to the landing to find Rachael leaning against the wall opposite Sofía’s door, screaming and pointing and hyperventilating all at the same time. And then I smelled the smoke.

I ignored Rachael and dived through the door, smack into Sofía. She was waving her arms and trying to perform some kind of magick to put out the burning quilt cover, but all she did was fan the flames with a hot wind. Bugger.

I grabbed her, pinning her arms to her side, and swung her round and out of the doorway, then pushed her at Rachael for a soft landing. At that moment, Alain appeared, with Vicky on his heels.

‘Vic! Open the bathroom door!’ I shouted, then did the only thing I could see that would stop the house burning down.

I dropped to my knees and grabbed the as-yet-unburnt corner of the duvet, then dragged it off the bed, full of flames. Sofía had the sense to push Rachael out of the way, and I ran to the bathroom, coughing and spluttering. Luckily it was only three doors down.

I took a deep breath and took the blazing duvet with me into the bathroom, thus painting myself into a fiery corner. It’s a good job I know my own house, though: that bathroom has an on-bath shower attachment that actually works. Out in the corridor, Vicky had entered Sofía’s room to check for further fire, and Alain was stamping on sparks that had landed on the carpet. The fire was out in seconds, but the mess was going to take a lot of clearing up, and I don’t mean the charred, wet duvet.

Everyone in the house was now gathered in the upstairs corridor – behind Hannah. They couldn’t decide whether to look at the bathroom or at Rachael, who was cowering in the dead-end of the corridor and pointing at Sofía.

‘She’s a monster! A monster! She had flames coming out of her! And she roasted the rabbit!’

Rabbit? What rabbit?

Oh. That rabbit.

Vicky appeared from Sofía’s room with a beautiful white rabbit that was clearly in shock but otherwise unhurt. ‘No fire in there,’ she said.

‘And none out ’ere,’ added Alain, momentarily forgetting his aspirate.

I turned to the Boss: what had happened was not mine to pass judgement on.

She shook her head and grimaced. ‘It’s up to you, Conrad. They’re your people.’

She was giving me a choice, because Entanglement is a tangled issue. That’s what we call it: Entanglement – bringing a mundane person into the world of magick. It’s not illegal as such. I’d done it to Mina without consequences, but that was before I joined the King’s Watch. It’s very much against King’s Regulations for me to Entangle people without permission, and I’d walked a tightrope on several missions, given how much I rely on the help of the Merlyn’s Tower Irregulars. You have to remember, as well, that all this happened before Tom Morton and Elaine Fraser had a rude awakening courtesy of the Darkwood pack.

There are three choices when someone encounters magick. The most common is to use a small Work of Alchemy, followed by isolation from magick, and that would make Rachael and Alain forget the truth of what they’d seen. If that’s not enough, there is a more serious potion with more serious side effects.

Or there’s Entanglement. The Boss had left it up to me. I took a deep breath and walked over to Rachael, grabbing Alain on the way.

I put my hands on my sister’s shoulders and she calmed down a little. Her eyes regained their focus and met mine. ‘What’s going on, Conrad?’

‘Welcome to my new world. The one I’ve been living in since last Christmas.’

That helped settle her, because she could now blame me for what went wrong, something she’s had a lot of practice at. She swallowed hard. ‘What is this?’

‘Magick. With a k,’ I replied.

‘I don’t understand,’ said Rachael.

I held her close. There was still an emptiness in her voice. She hadn’t tuned back in fully – perhaps she’d reject it all, like our father had. His brain simply couldn’t process it and he’d blotted it all out.

Behind me, Hannah spoke up. ‘We should leave. Rachael will need support, Conrad. Who should I ask to remain? Mina? Vicky? Myfanwy?’

I shook my head without turning round. ‘Eseld.’

‘As you wish. Come on, you lot. Let’s leave them to it. I think you’d better stay behind as well, Sofía.’

Rachael blinked. ‘Eseld? Is she one of them, too? And Cador?’

‘Not Cador, but Eseld is. How do you think they got all that money without having a profile the size of Prince Charles? They own almost as much of Cornwall as he does.’

I told you Rachael is a good person. She is, but she didn’t get where she is today without having an eye on the prize. ‘You mean there’s more like that? Filthy rich, I mean. Lots of them?’

I grinned at her. ‘Saffron’s mother. The Hawkins estate is almost in the same league as the Mowbrays. And that’s just the ones I know personally.’

I turned round and saw Eseld waiting. Beyond her, Alain was comforting Sofía. ‘You don’t have to do this,’ I said to Eseld.

‘I owe you, Conrad,’ she said gently. ‘And you did ask me to be Rachael’s friend. I’ll take her and Alain to the well.’

I stood back and Eseld held out her hand. I passed her my packet of cigarettes and she led them away. It was time to comfort my other sister, but first I needed to collect a drink. ‘Come on, Sofía, let’s get out of the way.’

We went down the main staircase, and I said, ‘See you at the stables. I’ll get a bottle.’

I put my head in the drawing room and everyone went quiet. Except Vicky. She burst out laughing.

‘You are in so much shit, Conrad,’ she said.

Harsh. Harsh but true. She was still cradling the rabbit. It wasn’t quite like stroking a white cat, but did look very strange. I grabbed the bottle, two glasses and headed for the stables.

4 — Everything Happens for a Reason

‘It was too soon,’ said Sofía. ‘I have not been practising long enough.’ She shook her head. ‘I am so sorry, Conrad. Forgive me.’

I rolled the wine round in my glass. I’d struck lucky with the wine – Alain had brought a bottle of Bordeaux as a gift. ‘I don’t do forgiveness, Sofía.’

She looked startled. ‘Even for your sister? Am I still your sister? You don’t want to …’ Her English failed her and she said something in Spanish, forgetting that I only speak the language to restaurant standards. I think she meant, Am I dead to you?

‘No. You will always be my sister. You always were, even if we didn’t know it until the summer. Tell me what went wrong and then clean up the mess. Then it’s done. Finished.’

She looked miserable. She was a long way from home, staying in a house full of scary old people and she’d nearly set fire to the place. She had a right to look miserable and want Mamá to comfort her. She pulled herself together and gave me a cigarette.

‘The fête du feu starts with a pas de feu. It’s a play on words in French that I don’t understand.’

‘Me neither. That’s what Alain is for. You can ask him to explain it.’

She managed a smile. Of sorts. Alain has something of a reputation. ‘He is very good to me when I see him. He say I remind him of his own sister. He has not hit on me, as you say.’

The sting was unspoken: He’s nice to me. You’re not. She didn’t know that I’d dangle Alain over the well by the balls if he did hit on her.

‘Go on. Pas de feu.’

‘Si. You have to light three things, one with magick and two without. We use candles. You saw me in San Vicente, didn’t you? You saw how much effort it takes me to make fire.’

She was right. Sofía’s magick is much stronger than mine, but only in certain areas. Vicky or Myfanwy could light a candle with a wink of the eye; Sofía not so much.

‘Also there is a Glamour, you must make flames come from your body while you perform the pas de feu. Doctora Mowbray, she says it is like patting your head and rubbing your tummy at the same time. She is right.’

‘Or flying a helicopter, I imagine. Let me guess: that’s when Rachael started screaming.’

She looked down. ‘Si. She was outside the door all the time. I had no idea she was here. I was putting so much power into the Work that I jumped when she screamed and I set fire to the bed.’

I nodded. It wasn’t all her fault. Some of it, yes. And it could have been a lot, lot worse. ‘Just one question, Sofía. Why the rabbit?’

This time she smiled properly. ‘It is an English joke, no? The magician and the rabbit? He is very distracting for the audience for later in the show. In a good way. They look at the rabbit while I make the trick.’ She shrugged. ‘I give him a carrot and he sits still while I put on a Glamour of flames.’

No wonder Rachael was freaked out. Seeing a rabbit burst into flames would unsettle anyone.

I had one more question, and it had to do with Sofía’s talents as a Mage. We knew she wasn’t a Diviner like her mother and that she had strengths in Herbalism. One of the main reasons for going to Salomon’s House was to discover what she was really good at. ‘This is a part-time thing, isn’t it? It’s not your magickal major subject, surely?’

‘No, but it is connected. I am still not sure about it, though. Doctora Mowbray wants to wait a little longer.’

‘I understand. How about this? When you’re really ready, I’ll organise a proper fête de feu, with some big guests, and you can knock ’em dead. How about that?’

‘Thank you, Conrad. I will go and clean up the mess now.’

It was time for a hug. If you think I’d been treating her like a junior officer and not my little sister, you’d be right. That’s partly because, for all our good intentions, we’re still getting to know each other. She’d nearly burnt down my house, to say nothing of putting lives at risk. I only had one model for dealing with a situation like this, so I used it. And, yes, you could also say I was acting more like my Dad. Then again, I am old enough to be her father. Just.

We went back inside and she disappeared into the scullery to get binliners and cleaning materials. ‘Can you fetch Pedro, and I will swap with you?’ she said.

‘Pedro?’

‘Pedro is a good name for a rabbit.’

Peter Rabbit. D’oh.

‘Very funny. Swap him for what?’

She held up my phone. ‘Picking the pocket is part of my act.’

‘Well done, Sofía. That was neat.’

She shoved my phone in her pocket and grinned. Yes. She’s definitely a Clarke.

And so is Rachael, and the difference is that Rachael would have read the messages first. Would Sofía grow to be like Rachael? No, because at nineteen Rachael was already devious, tricky and unpredictable; Sofía is a mere beginner.

I found Pedro in the corner of the drawing room and returned him to Sofía before settling down to update the others. Mina had been watching carefully up to now; her instinct had been to let me deal with things and support me by looking after the others – we did have a houseful, after all. I’d just finished being scolded by Myfanwy for dereliction of duty when the doors burst open and Rachael strode into the room. And stopped dead.

‘Where is she? Where’s Sofía?’

‘He made her clean up the fire. On her own,’ said Myfanwy accusingly.

‘Quite right, too,’ said Rachael. See? It’s the Clarke Way.

She pivoted and headed for the staircase, leaving room for Alain and Eseld to make an appearance. Alain looked around the room, searching for something.

‘If you’re looking for the St Émilion, it’s over here,’ I said.

‘Merci, mon ami,’ said Alain, grabbing a chair and a glass.

The rest of the room were focused on Eseld and her story; having known Rachael all her life, I could fill in the blanks for myself, so I turned away and looked at Alain.

He blew out a breath he seemed to have been holding for hours and drank some wine. ‘Salut.’ He wiped his lips and continued, ‘Upstairs. Before.’ He waved his hand to encompass the near-disaster. ‘I had seen nothing. You could have lied to me. Why did you bring me into this? I am glad you did, but…?’

‘You keep my secrets, Alain. I can trust you, and that’s rare. Two other reasons – first, it wouldn’t be fair on you, because Rachael would sack you.’

‘What!’

‘She’s a Clarke, remember?’

‘So?’

‘Her word is binding. Correct me if I’m wrong, but didn’t she just promise not to tell anyone?’

‘Yessss?’

‘So, she wants a slice of the magickal money, doesn’t she?’

He burst out laughing. ‘She does, and she wants me to help. I am to resign in one month and open a new office: Occult Estate Management Ltd. She has to work three months’ notice, so our firm can try to stop clients going with her. Eseld has already promised to move her investments and to push Kenver to do the same. He is the bigger prize.’

I stuck out my hand. ‘Congratulations.’

We shook. ‘Thank you, Conrad. I may regret this, but thanks to you, in six months I have gone from intern at a bank to founding a company with the legendary Rachael Clarke. Salut.’ We clinked glasses and he leaned back. ‘Now tell me the real reason.’

‘Can’t there be two real reasons?’

He gave a Gallic shrug of epic proportions. ‘Like sister, like brother, like sister. Tell me.’

‘There might be some business coming up in France. I might need a translator. Strictly translation only. No combat duties.’

He snorted. ‘You said that once before and I ended up with a gun pointed at me. Now that Rachael will be paying me a proper salary, perhaps I don’t need the job.’ He waited a beat. ‘Of course I’ll do it. Rachael would never forgive me if I turned it down.’

‘Thanks. I need to make a delivery, then it’s down to my agent in France to find our target. It may not even happen.’

‘I will be ready.’

‘Good.’

Rachael was like a whirlwind for the rest of the evening, and was still going strong when Mina said that she was going to bed. It was a massive day for her tomorrow, and I said I’d be up in a minute after a quick Clarke Conference. I grabbed my sisters and headed outside. It was the first time I’d spoken to Rachael since I’d found her screaming.

‘You’re going to be quiet tomorrow, aren’t you?’ I said to her. ‘And remember whose day it is.’

‘Ahead of you, bro,’ she shot back. ‘I’ve already arranged for Eseld’s driver to take Hannah into Cheltenham for synagogue. Frees up more of us to help Mina.’

See? I told you she was a good person, really.

‘Thanks.’

She flashed a quick smile. ‘Is it true, what Eseld said? That Dad can’t accept magick?’

‘It is true. He saw worse things than you did and blotted out the magick completely. It could hurt him if we try and force it on him.’

She nodded. ‘And Mum? Eseld only knows what you told her in Cornwall, and that wasn’t a lot.’

‘For her, magick is like me,’ said Sofía. Raitch and I looked at her, perplexed.

‘Mary knows it exists, like she knows I exist, but she prefers to ignore it, like she ignores me.’

‘Sounds about right,’ said Rachael. ‘Maybe you should learn bridge, like Mina did. Perhaps she’d talk to you then.’

I didn’t think that was entirely fair on Mum, but now was not the time. ‘I’ll see you in the morning,’ I said, and kissed my sisters goodnight.

As I walked up the stairs, I really thought we’d be continuing that conversation soon. How wrong can you be.

The next day, at the party, I got swept off to a new life in the North and Rachael went back to London. I told Alain who to talk to about Keira, Adaryn and the Dragon, and a few days later he called me.

‘Do you really think this Keira will find the Dragon lady? I have seen how these Witches hide now, and no one can find them.’

‘You don’t know Adaryn. She’s incapable of hiding, and I think Keira will find her – it’s just a question of when.’

5 — Blessings

Keira

‘It’ll soon be over. Don’t worry. She won’t be long.’

Keira Faulkner didn’t reply. She’d last spoken four hours ago when she made an oath on the London Stone, an oath that would keep her from Britain for the rest of her life. She was saving her last, tiny reserve of strength for something important, and talking to the Bailiff was not important.

She could feel it inside her, a flickering, dying flame of life, and she curled up to protect it. As much as you can curl up when you’re strapped into a wheelchair and locked in the back of a prison van.

It was a very nice prison van, to be sure, with carpet and wooden walls, but the wood was there to hide the Wards and the metal frames that were keeping her locked in, the Lux locked out, and that turned the van into a mobile Limbo Chamber.

Limbo. Why Limbo? They should call it a travelling pocket of Hell, because that’s where she was, and that’s where she’d been since Lunar Hall. Her own, personal, luxury, five star, customised zone of Damnation.

She brought her hand to her face and felt nothing, because both were covered in bandages, and had been since she picked her face raw in the second week. She’d been supposed to eat when they changed the bandages, but she couldn’t stop scratching, so for a week they fed her with a spoon. Not that she was eating much anyway.

Keira barely registered the thump on the side door or the Bailiff getting up to open it. Only when a blast of freezing, rain-soaked air blew in did she make an effort to sit up. Funny, she’d always imagined France as being bathed in sunshine, not freezing and wet like England. She was facing the roller-shutters at the back that led to the hydraulic lift, and had to turn to see the side door. An umbrella came in first, furled and tossed casually on to the floor, followed by … what?

The woman was wearing a black raincoat, hood up, and a pair of bright red leather boots. When she took the coat off, Keira saw that the boots went all the way up to her thigh, where they met a black leather dress. What the fuck? Was she on her way to a fetish party and got lost? The woman shook out her blonde hair and leaned into the Bailiff for a kiss. Two kisses. And she held him by the elbows. Was that for balance on those heels?

‘Septimus! It’s been too long,’ she said. Her pronunciation was clear, even though her accent was strong and her voice gravelly.

Septimus Morgan, Bailiff to the Cloister Court, took a good look at her. ‘Elodie. You didn’t need to get dressed up on my account.’

‘Pfft. No French woman makes an effort for an Englishman. You wouldn’t notice. Could you get my bag?’

‘Of course.’

Morgan ducked through the door and came back with a piece of hand luggage, rainwater running down the plastic sides. The woman – Elodie – had a proper bag, of course. A Chanel clutch. Well, what else would she have? Keira saw all that, and a glimpse of thigh, when Elodie took a chair opposite her and studied her with a tsking sound. When Morgan put the case down, she turned away and spoke to him.

‘The Russians are having a party tonight. Only they would have a party on a Tuesday. Still, it means I don’t have to take my husband. Do you have the medical file?’

Morgan loosened the clips on his rucksack and passed over a folder. Elodie skimmed the contents, alternately nodding and shaking her head. Under the stronger lights at the back of the van, the lines around her eyes were more prominent.

Keira made an effort to clear her throat. ‘I can hear you, you know. And see you.’

Elodie lifted her hand in a gesture of dismissal. ‘Un moment, ma petite.’ She carried on reading for a moment. ‘Bon.’ She opened her flight case and shoved the folder inside before rummaging around and picking out a couple of items. When her hands (complete with red talons) emerged, Keira pulled hard on the straps that bound her to the wheelchair.

Lux. Elodie had a clear glass bottle of liquid that sparkled and shimmered with magick. Liquid Lux. Keira couldn’t keep her eyes off it as Elodie stood up and walked in front of her.

‘Hello, Keira. I am Elodie Guerin, Préfet de sorcellerie étrangère, Sûreté de magie.’

Whatever. Just hand over the Lux.

‘Before you can seek sanctuary in France, you must agree to be bound by our laws.’

‘Fine,’ said Keira. Suddenly, from bone-dry, her mouth had become a lake of saliva.

‘Non,’ said Elodie, shaking her head. ‘To get this bénédiction, this Blessing, you would agree to have both legs cut off, wouldn’t you?’

Keira nodded her head. If that was the price…

‘And your mother would be in the court in five minutes. I know all about her. I am going to give you some Lux, and then a little more, and when I have your attention, we will talk again.’

Keira finally noticed what was in Elodie’s other hand – a small silver chalice. The French woman poured a little of the Blessing into the chalice and brought it to Keira’s lips.

Keira drank. Sweet Goddess. Thank you.

Life trickled down her throat and spread through her body. In seconds, her head was pounding as the magickal parts of her brain tried to kick in again, like a runner who tried to sprint after two months in bed. Like Keira, in fact.

She registered cold fingers on her neck: Elodie was taking her pulse and feeling her magick. Keira tried to slow her breathing and closed her eyes.

‘A little more,’ said Elodie.

Gradually, over the next ten minutes, the world, the real world of magick, restored itself inside Keira’s head. She couldn’t see beyond the Wards and barriers, but she could feel the patterns of magick that were locking her in. She could sense the powerful presence of Elodie in front of her. And she could feel her own power. Elodie sat down and started talking to Morgan. Keira slumped back in the chair and let the power of life flow through her limbs.

‘Keira? Wake up.’

What? How had she fallen asleep? How could she?

‘Your brain needs to repair itself,’ said Morgan. ‘You’ll be doing a lot of sleeping in the near future. Have some water.’

Keira managed to cradle the water bottle in her bandaged fists and wet her mouth. Morgan sat down, and Elodie took his place in front of her, one red boot crossed over the other and her hands on her hips.

‘Keira Faulkner, you have been exiled from Albion. Do you wish to seek Sanctuary in France?’

‘Yes.’

‘Will you be bound by the laws of Witchcraft and respect the Council of Magick?’

‘Yes.’

‘Good. By the authority of the Republic, I admit you for one month. Welcome to France.’

‘Is that it? I thought I was supposed to understand what I’m agreeing to.’

‘You have agreed to be bound for one month. In one month, you will be back on your feet and we can talk again, and someone will come to give you advice.’ She turned her head. ‘Septimus, we are done here.’

Morgan took a variety of items out of his rucksack – Keira’s passport, her phone, her mundane jewellery, her credit cards. He passed them all over to Elodie and used the handle to pull up the roller-shutter. When the seal was broken, the Sympathetic Echo was revealed in all its glory.

Every Mage experiences the Echo differently: some by sight, some by sound, some by temperature. To Keira, the Echo was wind moving on her skin and the smell of magick in her nose. She’d clocked Elodie’s mundane perfume as soon as she came into the van, a heavy musk, but now the currents of Lux could flow around her, she smelt Elodie’s magick, a hot combination of … kwrshereff.

Since childhood, she’d struggled to put the smell of magick into words, and words had never been her strong point. Fire has no smell. Smoke does, but fire doesn’t. To Keira, Elodie smelt of burning, boiling water. None of those three ideas has a mundane smell, but that’s what Keira had in her nose. She’d learnt to live with it.

The hydraulic ramp was horizontal, and Morgan unfastened her chair from the floor clamps. He placed her suitcase on the ramp, then pushed her forward and pressed the button to lower it. The Sympathetic Echo was glorious, but her mundane surroundings were anything but.

A great wire fence, topped with barbed wire, surrounded an almost empty car park. Monstrously bright LEDs on tall polls shut out the last of the afternoon light and illuminated the no-man’s land on the other side of the fence. The only vehicle anywhere near them was the ambulance that had backed its rear up to theirs. Before the rain blurred her vision, a pair of paramedics jumped out of the front and walked towards them.

Elodie, umbrella raised, appeared from the side and directed operations in French as the paramedics got the stretcher out. ‘We’re going to lie you down for the journey,’ she said to Keira. ‘Safer and more comfortable. The straps are no more than a seat-belt. You are not a prisoner anymore.’

Keira nodded and let them get on with it. No one had bothered to put a coat on her, though Elodie made a half-hearted attempt to shield her with the umbrella. Within minutes, she was in place, her suitcase had been loaded and the doors slammed shut with Elodie sitting next to her. Keira had let all this wash over her because she was so busy drinking in the tiny eddies of Lux that flow all around the world and enjoying the feel of magick in her hands again.

The ambulance engine started, and Elodie spoke. ‘Was he that bad?’

‘Sorry. Who? What?’

‘Septimus. He wished you Bon Voyage and you ignored him.’

‘Because I didn’t hear him.’ She shrugged. ‘He was okay. He tried his best, I suppose. I’ll send him a postcard.’ It seemed like the right thing to say, but she had no intention of contacting Bailiff Septimus Morgan again. Ever. ‘Where are we going?’

‘The Forêt de Compiègne. North-East of Paris. There is a spa and rehab centre with a sacred spring. Your mother insisted on the best, and paid for it.’ She gave Keira an amused smile. ‘Your mother has been very insistent.’

‘Sounds about right.’

Keira’s mother was Augusta Faulkner QC, former top barrister in the Cloister Court. She’d come out of retirement to represent Keira after her arrest. Not that she’d done anything to get her out of the Limbo Chamber. Not really.

Elodie made herself comfortable and grabbed some of the blue cleaning paper to wipe the water and flecks of mud off her boots, frowning at the dirt’s impudence. Satisfied, she threw the paper in a biohazard bag and folded her hands. ‘So, Keira, what is he like? The Dragonslayer?’

Keira slumped back and stared down at the bandages on her hands. She’d nearly committed suicide in the Undercroft. She’d had a breakdown and just been exiled from her homeland, and this woman asks about Conrad Bloody Clarke? Unbidden, her mother’s words came into her head: Be nice to the French authorities. If they kick you out, you’ve got nowhere to go.

‘Tall. Very tall,’ she said. ‘And sneaky. Determined. Remorseless. No wonder Odin chose him.’ She shuddered. ‘When he pointed the gun at me, his eyes were like winter in the Arctic Circle.’

‘He sounds interesting. Very interesting.’

Keira lapsed into silence, because she was having the first real flashback to Lunar Hall. Before now, the memory had been sealed, and now the Lux had unlocked it.

Moles … bombs … blood … and Clarke’s gun pointing at my face, not wavering by a millimetre. And then the spit, thick and phlegmy, landing on my cheek. The gun barrel, black and getting bigger and bigger … falling. Falling down the barrel of the gun…

She woke up with a scream. Elodie was holding her arms and shushing her with the French equivalent of there, there. Keira had never thought she’d say it, but she really missed her mother.

6 — A Body at Rest

The next four weeks were oceans of bliss, interrupted by islands of torment. And French. Lots of French. A small number of the staff spoke English, but most either didn’t or didn’t want to admit to it. Keira spoke no real French at all. Not beyond what you need for a weekend in Cannes.

Angelique understood her. Sort of.

The Hotel Compiègne Spa de Source was a very exclusive, mundane retreat for the rich and famous who had addiction issues and for their children who had eating disorders. Set in and around an old chateau, it also boasted a sacred spring, and the keeper of the spring was Angelique.

Keira knew a lot of Mages who dedicated their lives to ancient sources of magick, but Angelique was the first she’d come across who’d started as a nun from the Ivory Coast. Under Angelique’s care, the bandages came off, the weight went back on and most of the scars healed. Slowly.

There was one scar that would never heal: the burn on her right hand where Conrad Bloody Clarke had first stood up to her and forced her to run away, her hand seared by mageburn as her Ancile overheated. When she went to shake hands, people felt it and often tried to look, but it was easy to keep her hand hidden because she was left-handed. It was a bit like her new life, really. She was clearly marked out as different, and all she could hope for was that in exile she could keep the truth hidden.

The first bump in the road was when Keira unpacked her case after a week spent mostly asleep in bed (with daily wheelchair trips to the spring). Her passport was missing, replaced with a miraculously created French Identity Card. Of course – part of Sanctuary meant that she couldn’t leave France for at least two years.

There were other bumps. When she found that she was broke, for example. ‘Why is there no money in my bank account?’ she’d asked her mother.

‘Because you had to pay for your keep in the Undercroft. I did tell you.’

‘What! They nearly killed me and made me pay for the privilege? How is that possible?’

‘Because that’s what they’ve always done, and no one’s going to vote to change it.’ There was an audible sigh. ‘I’ve taken on a few cases again. Just to keep me ticking over. I’ll be able to pay you an allowance until you get settled. I’ve spent most of my savings on your treatment at the Spa.’

Keira bit her tongue and didn’t speak the words in her head. You shouldn’t have given all your money to Lunar Hall then, should you?

And that wasn’t the last time her mother had to remind her of things she’d been told in the Undercroft. Keira’s mind had become a blank between Lunar Hall and Calais, presumably as a way of not thinking about the Limbo Chamber.

The first week she had slept and ate (the food was superb). The second week she walked, tentatively, around the grounds. The third week she spent in the gym. Only in the fourth week did she start running again.

She began at dawn. She’d walked most of the trails in the park, and knew one that should stretch her without crippling her. She was wrong.

Half way round, she had to pull up, head pounding and breathless. The mist around the bushes shimmered, and she was back in the Heart of the Grove at Lunar Hall, her arms outstretched and the perfection of Dodgson’s Mirror surrounding them.

Them. Plural. Behind her stood Debs, and in front of her, Deb’s daughter Abbi lay on the altar. Above them, the Imprint of Helen of Troy was slowly taking shape, ready to merge with Abbi. The Mirror reflected everything – light, power, matter, energy. Everything was turned back by its reflective brilliance. The Mirror was open at the top (to allow Helen and air to enter), and its roots were deep in the ground, but not deep enough.

Keira tried to stop it, to stop the vision proceeding and to focus on the here and now of the Forest of Compiègne. No good. The ground boiled and six black shapes thrust their snouts out of the earth. Moles. Enhanced moles, each the size of a large dog, and all coming for her…

She collapsed on to the wet grass of France and forced the vision out of her head. With help from a translation app on her phone, Angelique told her that she was using Lux to aid her running, because it was too soon, and the depleted level in her body had allowed the trauma to re-surface. No running for a while yet. And definitely no magick.

The vision of Lunar Hall had been bad, but it wasn’t the worst thing to happen that day. The very worst thing was her visitor.

They called her from the gym in the afternoon, and she found a fat man sitting in the lounge, salivating at the English Afternoon Tea that the waiter had just deposited in front of him. He stood up to greet her and looked even bigger round the waist. Keira shuddered inside and prayed that he wouldn’t try to kiss her. He didn’t, and offered a hand to shake.

‘Ms Faulkner. Pleased to meet you. I’m Jeremy Tyson, but you can call me Gertie.’

His voice was cultured, English and camp. Very camp.

‘Why would I want to call you Gertie?’ It was the first thing that popped into her head. ‘Sorry. I’ve had a bad day.’

‘You’ve had a bad few days, dear. Take the weight off and tuck in. My treat. I do love the tea here. One of the best in France.’

He was older than he looked at first, and his sleek hair had dye-job written all over it. She sat down and forced herself to smile. ‘Thank you. How did you know I was here?’

‘You mean, Who sent you?’ he said, arching his eyebrows. ‘Well, dear, I sent myself, because I’m the chair of PEST, the Parisian Expatriate Society. Welcome to France. Have an eclair, they’re divine.’

Keira had never had a sweet tooth, and after an hour in the gym, the sight of the eclair revolted her. ‘In a minute. I’ll start with some carbs and protein.’

Tyson looked at her as if she’d sworn in church. ‘As you wish. Let me be mother.’

He poured two cups of tea and devoured an eclair, closing his eyes and savouring the flavour. ‘Mmm. Divine. Now, how are you, dear?’

It was the third time he’d called her dear, and normally that was a cue for a verbal (or physical) riposte. But this was not normal. She chewed a sandwich and realised that a real-life Englishman, be he ever so revolting, was better than nothing, and soon she was unburdening herself to him. He was a very good listener.

With the patisserie all gone (and all eaten by Tyson), he put his cup down and put on a very different smile. ‘How did you get on with our Head Girl?’

‘Who?’

‘Elodie. The Prefect. I call her the Head Girl because it annoys her. She’s coming to see you on Friday.’

‘Oh. First I’ve heard of it.’

‘She’s a busy woman. It’s my job to introduce you to some of the expatriate Mages and help you orient yourself in the big city. She’ll slap an order on you requiring you to live in Paris at first. Nothing personal.’

Keira shrugged. Paris was as good as anywhere.

‘First some dos and don’ts,’ he continued. ‘For the first two years, you can’t engage in magick outside your house unless you’re under the supervision of a registered French Mage. Got that? The Head Girl will come to see you every six months, and do not get on her wrong side. If she has to make even one extra visit, even if you’re totally innocent, things can go badly.’

At full strength, Elodie would be no pushover, and Keira had barely any strength at all. ‘I understand. My barrister said that there were five other British Mages in exile. What did they do?’

His lips twitched. ‘You mean your mother told you. Well, two of them did their two years and left the country. One died of natural causes, and the other two have left Paris and buried themselves in the countryside.’

She frowned. ‘How am I supposed to make money?’

He grinned. ‘Work for a French Mage is the obvious answer. If not, get a mundane job or live off your mother. Now, tell me what he’s really like. Is it true he’s got an artificial leg?’

She flinched back. Not again. ‘I thought you’d come to talk about me, not Conrad Bloody Clarke. You do know he’s a got a talent this big?’ She shoved her finger and thumb in Tyson’s face. ‘He’s just lucky, that’s all.’

Tyson brushed crumbs off his shirt. ‘It’s not the size of his talent I’m interested in, dear. He may not be magickally gifted, but he’s just put one over on those sheep botherers in the Lakeland Particular. You may have more magick, but who’s the one in exile, hmm?’

Keira bit her lip. ‘Sorry, Jeremy. It was good of you to drive all the way out here.’

Tyson reached out and patted her knee. ‘It’s tough, I know. I’ve brought you a copy of the regulations – in English. The Head Girl will make you sign the French version, and that’s my top tip: learn French. Have you given any thought to where you might live in Paris?’

‘I have. I’ll stay in a hotel until the sale of my Guildford home goes through then look for somewhere to buy.’

‘Oh dear. No property allowed for two years, I’m afraid. There’s loads to rent, though.’

‘Oh. Is there like, a proper social scene for ex-pat Mages?’

‘There are a few places we gather. I’ll take you on a tour when you’re settled in.’

‘Thanks. If you don’t mind me asking, why do you live here, Jeremy?’

‘I told you: it’s Gertie. No one calls me Jeremy except my dear mother. I’ve been in Paris since forever. I just find it more congenial.’ He tipped his head on one side. ‘You’re looking tired, if you don’t mind me saying, so I’ll love you and leave you. Just one more thing – I’m the only one who knows the whole story of Lunar Hall. Apart from the Head Girl, of course. I’d keep quiet about the human sacrifice, if I were you.’

‘What! We weren’t sacrificing anyone! Abbi had agreed to it.’

‘There’s not many who would see it your way. You might not want to test your theory. Take care.’

Keira had never been big on baths before: a quick shower after a run and she was good to go, so why waste time soaking in water? And then she met Marcus.

She still had the shower when she got back from her run along the Seine in the morning, but now she put aside an hour in the afternoon for a proper soak and to get ready for him coming round, or for going out to one of their favourite restaurants. Now that the weather was better, they might even just take a walk through the park. So long as they were together. That was the main thing.

The afternoon sun had already warmed the balcony, so she poured herself a glass and wandered out in her robe and slippers. There was plenty of time to get ready later. Especially if he had to work late again.

Marcus had wanted her to take a proper apartment, with old furniture and high ceilings. No chance. Keira was a modern woman with modern tastes, and for her the priority was clean lines, clean surfaces and space, both inside and out. From here, she could see all the way to Les Invalides over the rooftops, and more to the point, she could smell magick on the breeze. She closed her eyes and drank it in.

It was daytime, of course, so not much was going on. The serious business of magick is mostly carried on at night, but there are some things that don’t need darkness. Like Divination. There. She caught the whiff of flowering paper that told her someone was using an enchanted deck of Tarot cards. She raised her glass and gave a small toast to Conrad Bloody Clarke, her nemesis and her inspiration.

When she’d gone to her first PEST social, all the sad losers wanted to talk about was Conrad Bloody Clarke. What’s the Dragonslayer Like? Could you sense the presence of Odin? Not a single person asked about Keira’s magickal accomplishments, and most of them talked in French. To each other. What was that all about?

The inspiration for her job came with the bad news from her mother: after paying off the mortgage on her house, there was barely enough to cover a year of living in Paris at the sort of rents she’d seen, and the so-called allowance that Augusta had started to pay would barely cover her running shoes. Just to have something to talk about, she’d asked her mother for the latest on the Dragonslayer’s doings, and hadn’t he only gone and broken the Golden Triangle? All of magickal Paris was agog with the news, and she’d even had a dinner invitation from one of the better families.

After a few bottles of wine, they’d started treating her like a normal person, and she’d realised that Clarke might be on to something. He had no talent, so why were they talking about him? Because he sniffed out people’s weaknesses and exploited them, using his Badge of Office as a fig leaf to cover up naked appropriation. Why couldn’t she do the same?

Her hosts were only too happy to tell her where the hotspots for magick were in Paris, so Keira worked out a plan. Her magickal nose was returning now, as was her stamina, so she had wandered around sniffing for running soil. Well, that’s what she called it. You have running water, and this is what soil would smell like if it ran in rivers. It’s also the distinctive odour of Necromancy.

Armed with a list of licensed Necromancers (they do love their licences in France), she found one who was holding very, very illegal séances. She waited outside until the Mage left, then followed her back to her apartment. The next morning, she followed her again as the woman went to get breakfast. It was a risk, of course, but she left the café with a wad of Euros and the promise of the same every week. Well, the Necromancer was hardly going to complain to the Head Girl, was she?

Keira now had a number of clients, as she called them, and that Tarot reader would be a nice juicy addition. When she could be bothered to track them down. Tonight was a Marcus night, so they could wait.

Marcus was the first mundane man she’d had a relationship with since she was a teenager. Why had she waited so long? She sipped her drink and snuggled into her robe, thinking back to that night in the Bristol.

Her mother had scolded her for booking into one of Paris’s most expensive hotels, but she’d deserved it. And it was only a single room. At the back. With a view of the air-con units. What it also had was a sumptuous bar full of rich men eager to buy her dinner. She wouldn’t touch most of them with a ten foot pole, but Marcus was different. For one thing, he was English. For another, he was polite. For a third, he listened. For a fourth, he was married.

He was there for a conference, and lived out towards the financial district where he worked for a British bank. On the second night of the conference, she gave him a smartphone loaded with her number. And some pictures. He sent one of himself an hour later.

They’d been together for three months now, and she knew she was in love when he turned up at her new apartment at seven o’clock one morning to join her for a run. He’d lasted half a kilometre before he had to stop, but he’d come back the next morning. And the next. Not the one after, obviously, because it was the weekend and he had to go back to the Bitch in Kent.

And then there was Zurich: one whole week of Marcus. He’d been even more excited when she told him the reason he couldn’t find anything about her in the UK was that she was in witness protection. Just for fun, she’d knocked up a fake passport to get into Switzerland.

The sound of her phone dragged her back to the present, and it was Marcus’s special Skype ringtone. Probably working late. Never mind. She waltzed back into the apartment and picked up her phone, sliding to accept the call.

It was a woman. A curvy, blonde woman.

‘So that’s what you look like,’ she said. ‘A scrawny tart if ever I saw one.’

Oh My God, it’s the Bitch. Keira was transfixed.

The woman continued. ‘Clever idea to give him a special phone so he could leave his real one behind. Made it much harder to track you down, but I did. Well, it’s over now, so fuck off and crawl back into the sewer you came from. Goodbye, ferret-face, I’ve got a husband to punish.’

Keira was still staring at the phone a full minute later. How had this happened? Surely he wasn’t going to let the Bitch get away with that? No, of course he wouldn’t. He’d be back in touch soon. Once the dust had settled.

Over the next three days, she kept checking to see if Marcus’s phone came online. Nothing. The Bitch must have destroyed it. No worries. He’d get a new one soon. When he’d sent the Bitch back to Kent.

And then she got an Internet Alert: Marcus had taken a promotion. In London. Effective immediately.

She cried herself to sleep that night, for the first time since the Undercroft. Things got even worse two nights later.

7 — When acted on by Outside Forces

Smoke. Fire. What? She woke coughing, with smoke in the room. Cigarette smoke. The only person she knew who smoked was Conrad Bloody Clarke. He hadn’t followed her here, had he? And what the fuck was he doing in her bedroom?

As well as the sledgehammer smell of tobacco on her mundane senses, she caught a magickal whiff of the intruder, and it wasn’t the Dragonslayer: it was the acrid stench of rotten concrete. A Gnome. Now she was really scared.

Her bed had a wooden headboard that she’d enchanted in a moment of boredom. When Marcus came round, she used magick to make it glow, saying it was a new nano-LED system. She quickly gave it a pulse and the light revealed a horrible little Gnome sitting on the bedroom couch and using a plant pot as an ashtray.

‘You speak no French?’ he said.

Keira said nothing.

‘Well, the message is simple. Stop your protection racket now, or the next time I come, you won’t wake up. Clear?’

‘Who told you?’ she said.

The Gnome crushed out his cigarette. ‘Doesn’t matter. You stop with all of them. Today. And think yourself lucky that we do not ask for a refund.’

He got up and left her shivering in the bed. When the front door slammed, she rushed to open the windows and let the smoke out. If her landlord got a whiff of this, she’d be out on her ear. Never mind that, how was she going to pay her rent?

She stayed, shivering at the open window until dawn started to peel away the night. The bedroom faced east, so she got a good view of the sun’s halo as it rose into sight. The growing light took her back to the Grove. Again. Every time something bad happened, she went straight back to the Grove, and the moles…

Not this time. No.

She forced herself to think about the moment before the moles, when they’d had their own evening sunrise – Helen of Troy manifesting herself in a golden glow over the secure walls of Dodgson’s Mirror. They’d been so close, so nearly there. And they could do it again. She could do it again.

Helen was still out there, and Helen had been given a big dose of Lux before the rite was interrupted. Yes, she’d need another Summoner and another volunteer, but Keira had a copy of the Rite, locked in a safe place. All she had to do was get back to England and retrieve it. Without being killed, of course.

Energised, she pulled on her running gear and got ready to head out. Keira didn’t think while she was running. Not as such. She focused on the process, and let the process do the work. Yes, she often found that ideas popped into her head when she got out of the shower afterwards, but while her feet pounded the streets of Paris, her head was focused only on rhythm, breathing, stride and pace.

She didn’t go too far this morning. Partly because she hadn’t slept much, and partly to save her energy for when she got back: there was cleaning to do.

She put all the bedding in the wash and polished every surface before nipping out to the shops and buying some carpet shampoo. By the time she’d finished, there wasn’t a trace of tobacco or Gnome in the bedroom. Now for the living room, and while she was at it, every last trace of Marcus could go in the trash, too.

The pounding on the door made her freeze and raise her magickal guard. She killed the music and relaxed when she realised that it was probably a neighbour, complaining about the noise. Anyone wishing her serious harm wouldn’t have knocked.

Just to be on the safe side, she opened her magickal sight and panicked again: there was a Mage on the other side of the door. At least they were human. There was no point asking who it was, because the door was too thick, so she risked a quick peek at the spy hole. Jeremy Tyson, in all his Hawaiian shirted glory. What?

She opened the door. Soon, the likes of Gertie would be in her past, so she didn’t bother to be polite. ‘What are you doing here?’

He gave her his public smile. ‘And a good morning to you, too, Keira. We need to have a chat. A serious one. We can do it here or we can do it in comfort at the Hotel du Mars.’ He looked her up and down. ‘But only if you get dressed.’

She seethed. Just as she was starting to plan her future, Gertie shoves his pock-marked nose into her business. It would be too risky to just slam the door in his face. Last night’s visitor had shown her that her home was not her castle, and anything he had to say could be said in front of mundane witnesses.

‘I am dressed. They’re used to me in there.’ She grabbed her phone and her keys, and thought about taking the stairs, but that wouldn’t faze him: he’d just take the lift and probably beat her to the front door.

What she did do was force the pace along the streets, going just fast enough to make him hurry. When they got to the hotel, the waiter gave her a quick glance and showed them to a table deep inside, only one step away from the toilets.

Tyson maintained a stony silence while they waited for the coffees to arrive, then took his time adding sugar and stirring. Keira forced herself not to start drinking. Finally, he tapped the drips off his spoon and took a sip. ‘Why did you do it, Keira?’

‘Do what?’

‘Start a one-woman protection racket around Paris.’

There was no point trying to deny it here. ‘How else was I supposed to make a living?’

He looked genuinely nonplussed. ‘Get a job. You’re a talented Mage. Very talented, or so I hear.’

‘I did try. I took details of three jobs after that social you took me to, and none of them spoke English.’

‘And you’ve made no real effort to learn French, have you? Not properly.’

‘I get by.’

‘Getting by is a flat-share in St Denis, not a penthouse by Les Invalides. I really thought you’d opted for Exile so you could make a fresh start.’

‘It was Exile, death or brain damage. Have you ever been in a Limbo Chamber?’

Tyson had the grace to look away before he continued. ‘You’ve got one last chance, Keira. Elodie has taken pity on you and decided not to arrest you.’

Keira’s blood ran cold, and she found that her hand had moved to her face of its own accord and was rubbing on the scar tissue. The scar tissue from where she’d picked her skin away.

Not again. She was not going back into a Limbo Chamber. They could try, but she’d rather die resisting arrest than go quietly.

Tyson was looking over her shoulder for some reason. She turned her head, but no one was there. He took out some papers and sighed. ‘Elodie has graciously agreed to allow you to apply for residence in another département. Outside the Île-de-France.’ He gave her a stare. ‘That’s the districts next to Paris, if you didn’t know. I’d suggest one a long way away.’

‘I … She … She can’t.’

‘She can’t force you, no, but it’s that or the Bastille.’

She laughed. As far as she could tell, the French had only a residual sense of humour; calling the magickal prison La Bastille was about as funny as it got.

Tyson glanced over her shoulder again, and then quickly added insult to injury. ‘Elodie has spoken to your landlord. He won’t hold you to your lease. You can go at the end of the month. I really am sorry, Keira.’

Her response was automatic. ‘No, you’re not.’ Now that it had sunk in, the sheer absurdity of the situation came into focus. ‘But they were all breaking the law! They get off Scott free and I get rusticated! That’s not fair.’

‘One didn’t get off, and that’s what made Elodie so lenient. That Herbalist is now in the Bastille.’

‘Why aren’t the other criminals in jail?’

Tyson waved over the waiter and ordered more coffee. He looked disappointed. In her. Well, he could fuck off. He was not her keeper.

‘Do I need to spell it out?’ he said.

‘Clearly.’

‘I imagine you met the Peculier Constable?’ Keira nodded. She was not going to say anything else about her time in the Undercroft. ‘Well,’ he continued, ‘Elodie Guerin is not Hannah Rothman. Constable Rothman would have shoved you and the suspects all in the Bastille without batting an eyelid, but Elodie was mortified that you found more illegal Mages in a month than her Parisian colleagues did in a year. Not good for the Bureau’s image. They couldn’t overlook what the Herbalist was doing, so she’s in jail and you’re not. Elodie has had a quiet word with the others, and she used the Gnomes to warn you off. Nothing on the record.’

Keira had thought that she had a grip on magickal politics. Clearly she hadn’t.

‘Aah,’ said Tyson. ‘Here comes the coffee and your other visitor.’

Keira whipped round and her heart, already in her boots, dropped through the floor when she saw her mother coming.

‘I’m sure you’ve got a lot to talk about. I’ll leave the paperwork here.’ He stood up. ‘Thank you for coming, Ms Faulkner. I’m just finished.’

‘Thank you for telling me, Mr Tyson,’ her mother replied.

Tyson edged around Augusta and left Keira trapped in the corner with her mother. This was now officially the worst day of her life.

They kept it civil but strained until they got back to the apartment.

‘I’ve been up since before dawn,’ said Keira. ‘Never been this clean. What do you think?’

Instead of complimenting her domestic skills, Augusta said, ‘How could you?’

Keira could feel her lip going. ‘How could I what, Mum?’

‘How could you rent something as ostentatious as this? It was that man, wasn’t it?’

For the fifth or sixth time since her mother had swept into the café, Keira coloured up. ‘My choice of apartment had nothing to do with Marcus.’

Her mother moved to the terrace door. ‘Let me guess: he wanted you to have a bijou shag pad.’ Keira was stunned into silence. Her mother turned round and turned the knife. ‘How could you be a married man’s plaything, Keira? And a mundane one at that? How could you?’

‘I loved him! He loved me!’

‘No he didn’t.’

‘How would you know? Have you ever loved anyone?’

Her mother looked away. ‘I love you, Keira. I will always love you.’ She looked slowly around the sitting room. ‘At least you’ve taken his pictures down. I presume you had them everywhere.’

Keira wondered if there were a course in motherhood, a course where they teach you to be perpetually in the right and simultaneously always wrong. She had taken down Marcus’s pictures only an hour ago. They were still under the sink. She decided to change the subject, because there was only pain and no future in talking about Marcus.

She flopped onto the couch and stared at her mother. ‘So what am I going to do, then? Any words of wisdom?’

Augusta lifted her hands and dropped them to her side. Her mother was fit, healthy and active, but she didn’t have the stamina she used to. After all, she’d been up before dawn to catch the Eurostar. She made a face and sat in a leather and metal recliner. It was either that or sit next to her daughter, and that wasn’t happening yet.

‘You’ll do what you want to do, Keira. You always have and you always will. I’m frightened to suggest anything because you’ll only do the opposite just to spite me.’

‘Is that what you think?’ said Keira. She heard a wobble in her own voice and hated herself for it. Oh God, no. Here come the tears. ‘You think I do things just to wind you up?’ She dropped her voice to a whisper. ‘You couldn’t be more wrong.’ She lapsed into silence, because she didn’t want to say what came next: All I ever wanted to do was make you proud of me.

Her grandmother had been a powerful Mage, but a powerful Mage who lived in a reclusive order of Witches and didn’t engage with the world. Except for having children, and Grandmother had been very disappointed that Augusta was only technically a Mage, and that she’d opted for law school instead of a lifetime’s servitude at Lunar Hall.

Keira was sorry, very sorry, that everything had blown up at the sacred grove, the sacred grove where her grandmother was First Sister. She’d died on the same night that it had all gone pear-shaped, and who had laid her grandmother’s body on the altar? Conrad Bloody Clarke, that’s who.

It was Augusta who broke the silence, and Keira looked up when she heard an olive branch in her mother’s tone. ‘I’m getting more work,’ she said. ‘Your favourite Watch Captain has dropped a bomb in a very muddy pond. It could take years to sort out.’

‘Oh?’

‘Have you heard of the Flint Hoard?’

‘Yeah. A bit. Isn’t it mega-huge?’

‘It is. Four hundred thousand Troy ounces huge.’

Keira looked up. ‘Who owns it?’

Her mother smiled the lawyer smile. ‘That’s the question. It’ll keep me in refreshers for a long time. I can increase your allowance a little, but not enough for anything like this place. I just wanted you to know that I won’t let you actually starve.’

Augusta was trying to be nice, and when it came down to it, her mother really was the only person who was still talking to her. Keira looked around the room. Without Marcus’s photos, it did look sterile. And alien. And uncomfortable.

Without warning, the tears came properly, and she blurted out, ‘I want to go home. Is there nothing you can do?’

Augusta’s answer came quickly, as if she’d thought about it, and as if there was more to come. ‘In the short term, no,’ she said.

Keira took her time to reply. Her mother had something up her sleeve for the future, and there would be a price. There was always a price with Augusta.

‘I’m a lot better than I was,’ said Keira. ‘I’m doing 5K regularly, now, and doing it all with the body.’

‘And it did me the world of good to see you,’ said Augusta, with something close to sincerity. There was a “but” coming. Sure enough. ‘But it’s not your physical health that worries me.’

‘You need physical health first,’ said Keira. Her mother hadn’t done a day’s exercise this century, as far as she knew. ‘And long-term mental health is boosted by having goals. And a purpose.’

Augusta smiled. ‘Did you get that from a book?’

‘So what if I did? You read a fair few books to be a lawyer, didn’t you?’

‘Fair point. I take it you don’t want to return as a fugitive.’

Mages live off the mundane grid as a matter of course. Hiding wouldn’t be difficult in that sense, which is why her Imprint had been stamped on the London Stone. As soon as Keira set foot on British soil, the Stone would glow and she would be pronounced an outlaw. There would probably be a price on her head, but that wasn’t the big worry.

‘No, Mum, I do not. Conrad Bloody Clarke would drop everything and hunt me down. I’m not a psychopath, you know. I know it’s not his fault I’m here, and I know that even if I got the drop on him, his girlfriends would all queue up to avenge him. I don’t want to die, I want to live.’

Augusta levered herself out of the recliner and came to sit next to her daughter. ‘I know you do, love. And Clarke is in a relationship. A monogamous one. His actual girlfriend is a mundane accountant, you know, and she shattered the right knee of one of my clients. The others would have to form their queue behind Mina Desai.’

‘An accountant? And is she, like, Indian?’

Augusta’s lips twitched. ‘Are you jealous? Did you want him for yourself?’

Keira shuddered. ‘Mum! That would be like shacking up with Angel of Death! I just didn’t picture him holding hands, that’s all. What’s she like?’

‘I don’t know. I’ll find out soon, though. She’s a crown witness. Anyway, the long and short of it is this: the only way the Cloister Court will commute your life sentence is if Clarke petitions on your behalf.’

Keira exploded with a laugh. ‘Right. As if that’s gonna happen.’

‘You won’t know until you try. I’m seeing him later this week. In court. I’ll ask. I’ll beg. I’ll do whatever I can to give you some hope, Keira. I can’t bear to see you like this.’

Augusta paused. Keira had wondered how long it would be before her mother turned it round to being about her. Augusta was quite content for Keira to suffer, so long as she didn’t have to watch. Typical. Then again, Augusta was willing to go out on a limb and prostrate herself. That took a lot. It was more than she’d ever done before. Keira supposed that she should be grateful.

‘I don’t like being like this, Mum. I don’t fit in, and I never will.’

‘I expect there will be a price,’ said Augusta cautiously.

‘Whatever. I’ll do anything except go back to the Undercroft.’

‘I won’t tell him that. Leave it up to me. Now, can I buy my daughter some lunch? Somewhere nice. I’m afraid I have to go back this evening.’

Keira stood up. ‘I’d love that. I’ll get changed.’

‘Good.’

Her mother phoned a couple of days later, and wonder of wonders, she insisted on a video call. When they connected, Keira saw her mother still in her court blouse, the neck open where she’d removed her barrister’s bands, and her hair pinned into submission for the wig.

‘Do you want the good news or the bad news?’ said Augusta.

The fact that there was good news at all made Keira sit up, and a little brace of fireworks went off in her heart. ‘The bad, obviously. No one ever wants the good news first.’

‘Before he even thinks about it, he wants you to pay the blood price for Sister Lika.’

Oh. Oh shit.

Before they’d entered the grove at Lunar Hall, Debs had killed a young Polish Sister, only a kid really, to stop her raising the alarm. There’d been a bloodlust in Deborah’s eyes that Keira had never felt, not even when she’d tried (and failed) to kill Clarke.

After Clarke had beaten her, Keira had had the weirdest feeling when Lika’s identical twin sister had walked up. Keira could spot a real ghost from a mile away, but all Mages have a mundane childhood, and memories of haunted house films had gripped her insides and squeezed when she saw a dead woman walking towards her.

And then the very-much-alive Sister Anna had spat in her face and cursed her while Clarke held that gun pointed at her heart. That experience was very much part of her recurring nightmare.

Legally, paying the blood price didn’t mean admitting guilt. It just meant paying the debt on Deborah’s behalf. In theory.

In the reality of Keira’s life, and Clarke’s, it meant totally admitting it. Like 100% admitting it. And that was before Clarke had named his own price. But he was willing to talk. Willing to consider it. That had to mean something, right?

‘What does Sister Anna want?’ she asked her mother.

‘I don’t know. He’s going to find out and get back to me.’

Keira took a deep breath. ‘I’ll pay it. Whatever it is, I’ll pay.’

Her mother’s shoulders slumped. ‘Thank you. It means a lot to me.’

Why should it mean anything to her mother? What business was it of hers? Whatever.

‘Did he say what his own price was?’ she asked tentatively. This was the real issue.

‘He does have a sense of humour, does Watch Captain Clarke,’ observed her mother dryly. ‘He said that he wants to believe that you’ve turned over a new leaf, and to prove it, you’ve to find a fugitive in France.’ She peered down her nose, like she did at a recalcitrant witness. ‘Given your recent career choice, sniffing out a Bard should be right up your street, dear.’

‘A Bard? Here?’

‘Adaryn ap Owain, fugitive from the Dragon business. Believed to be in Brittany. I’ll bring you the files when I come to help you pack at the weekend.’

Keira nearly said that she didn’t need any help to pack a suitcase. Then she realised that seeing her mother would be really good. Seeing those files would be even better.

‘I’ll book a table at that place in the Marais I told you about.’

8 — Will gain Momentum

Vicky Robson

‘Vicky, we have a problem with the Jones file.’

‘I’m fine, thanks Conrad. How are you?’

He didn’t even miss a beat. ‘I know you’re fine, and you know I’m fine because you were on the phone to Mina for half an hour last night. Don’t be grumpy. That’s my job.’

Okay, I admit it: I was feeling a bit grumpy.

‘Aye, well, I suppose it is a bit unrealistic to expect a man to care about these things, not when he can subcontract the social heavy lifting to his girlfriend.’

That got a rise out of him. ‘You were talking about a Halloween party! Odin give me strength, Vicky. I was going to see you tomorrow and I was looking forward to it. Really looking forward to it.’

I didn’t miss the point. ‘You were looking forward to it? What’s happened? Where are you going?’

‘Not me, we. We are going to France.’

He couldn’t see me, of course, but I sat up anyway. ‘What? When?’

‘Pack your bag. Your lift’s on the way.’

‘You’re joking, aren’t you?’

‘Oh yes, I frequently send people to foreign countries for a laugh. Sometimes I even book them on ferries and arrange accommodation just to see the look on their faces.’

‘Alright, alright, no need to gan over the top. What ferry? Why aren’t we flying, and what’s this about a lift?’

‘Helen Davies is on her way to pick you up. We’re going to Brittany, and the ferry from Portsmouth to St Malo is both overnight and sensible. That way, Helen will have a car.’

Once Conrad has gone into command mode, you have to join in. He’s like a tidal wave of authority that sweeps you along. Doesn’t mean I can’t dig me feet in a little bit.

‘Is this a private mission or on the books?’

I’m as fully committed to the King’s Watch as Conrad is. After all, I have died once for the cause. You can’t get more committed than that, can you? On the other hand, for Conrad it’s a matter of service, and for me it’s a career. Most of the time, there’s no difference, and in this case I’d go anyway, but I wanted to know if my job was on the line as well as my life.

‘Bit of both,’ he replied. ‘The Boss has authorised our trip to France. What happens after that may be … open to interpretation. A lot’s happened, Vic. I’ll explain it all when we meet.’

‘Are you not going with us?’

‘Alain is already on the Eurostar to set a few things up. I’ll be on my way to London shortly. I need to see a couple of people before I follow him.’

‘Alain’s going? Has the Boss approved that, too?’

‘As a non-combatant translator, yes. I’ll send all the travel details to you in a minute. Helen should be with you in an hour.’

It hurt. Just a little bit. He’d mobilised Helen and Alain before asking me, and I was the one who’d died on that Welsh hillside. I decided not to be a wimp and said it out loud. ‘Why am I the last one to know, Conrad?’

His voice softened a little. ‘Because you’re the most important one, that’s why. If I had to call the others back, they’d be annoyed, but they’d get over it. If I’d phoned you before I’d got permission from the Boss, you’d have got wound up for no reason.’

I could see his point. I’m not saying I agreed with it, but if I’d been pacing the house for half the day wondering what was going on, it wouldn’t have helped my blood pressure.

‘What about Myfanwy?’

‘She’s another reason I put off telling you. She’s known it might happen. I’ll call, if you like.’

‘Don’t be daft. She’s in the next room. I’ll tell her.’

He exhaled heavily. ‘Thanks.’

‘Just two quick questions, Uncle C. Two questions you won’t have thought of. First, would you have gone without Hannah’s permission?’

‘Yes. And so would Alain. Not Helen, though. What’s the second question?’

‘What’s the dress code, of course?’

‘Ha ha.’ He paused for a second. ‘Don’t pack your combat uniform. If things do get tasty, I doubt we’ll be representing Queen and country officially.’

I took a deep breath. ‘Right. Gotcha. When will I see you?’

‘Tomorrow lunchtime. In Locky Reck. Thanks, Vic.’

Helen Davies waited until we were sitting down in the bar of the ferry before asking the Big Question. ‘How do you think you’ll feel if you see her?’

When she said her, she meant Adaryn ap Owain, also known as Imogen Jones (which was why Conrad called this mission the Jones File). Helen had the right to ask that question because she was one of the three who’d brought me back from the dead.

I don’t remember dying. I was already unconscious when Adaryn stopped my heart, and I didn’t get any visions of angels or see glowing lights. Nothing. I just woke up in the A&E department of Swansea Hospital feeling like Death warmed up, which wasn’t surprising, really, given that I had been dead and that I now had hypothermia.

That journey had begun with Conrad taking me down from the hillside. He and Myfanwy had used magick to re-start my heart, then Helen had used her powers as a detective sergeant to rush me to hospital before I relapsed. Not only that, she knew Adaryn from before. As a fan. She’s not a fan any more.

‘I don’t know,’ I replied. ‘Is this between you and me?’

She nodded. Conrad has described Helen as a maternal powerhouse, which is very much a man’s perspective. I’d describe her as a powerful woman. She’s not a detective sergeant any more – she’s now the Watch Captain for Wales, and is doing a good job.

I placed my hands on the table for inner strength. I don’t revisit this very often, if I can help it. ‘The whole dying thing was like … I don’t know. Like it was all part of the Dragon thing, not Adaryn herself. I haven’t forgiven her for the way she treated me, though. No one calls me a “horse-faced Pikey” and gets away with it.’

She leaned back, stunned. ‘She called you that?’

‘And other stuff. And she orchestrated so much death, Helen. Orchestrated being the operative word.’

Helen smiled and took a big slurp of her espresso martini. Adaryn ap Owain is a gifted musician in any setting, and she’s also a Bard – capital “B”. She can use her enchanted harp and other gifts to amplify magick in all sorts of ways that are as alien to me as the Welsh language.

We’d spent most of the journey from Clerkswell to Portsmouth sorting things out. I had a load of calls to make, mostly to Saffron Hawkins. Since Conrad went up north, Saff and I have been working to cover two Watches, Mercia and the Marches. I had a load of notes to pass on, and I had to ring me Mam, too. Now we were on the ferry, we had time to think about what the hell we were letting ourselves in for.

I unfolded the printout that Myfanwy had run off while I packed. I now knew that Locky Reck was really Locquirec, a coastal village west of St Malo on the northern coast of Brittany. The hotel looked good.

‘I hope you don’t mind me asking, Helen,’ I said, ‘but why did Conrad ask you to come? For me, it’s personal, but for you…’

‘It’s just as personal for me, Vicky, now I’m a foster mother. And it’s political, too.’

‘How are the twins?’

‘Running me ragged. That’s why I’ve lost all this weight.’

‘I thought you looked thinner. How are they settling into the high school?’

In all the fallout from the Dragon were two young victims, twin children of a Zoogenist, Surwen. When she’d been pregnant with twins, Surwen had used in utero magick to try to turn her son into a daughter, and she bodged it, something that Guinevere would have to live with all her life, poor bairn.

‘They’re fine. Gwen keeps her head down and gets on with it. Easy to do when you’re only eleven. It’s Elowen who’s having problems. The nightmares have started already.’

We Mages come into our magick around puberty, and it can be messy. Elowen was lucky in one respect: she was living with a magickal family. When I’d started having hallucinations, I kept quiet because I didn’t want to get sent to St Nicks. At the same time as nightmares/hallucinations, emerging Mages also act like psychic beacons. Any grown-up Mage with a heart will step in and get help, which is what had happened to me. I could have done without the all-girls boarding school, but at least I have all me faculties.

‘Bad are they?’ I asked.

‘Hywel is brilliant with her – that’s my husband – I think he may have latent powers as a Healer, and she’s seeing the senior Druid, of course.’ She paused, then smiled and brought herself back to the present. ‘Who’s this Alain chap who’s coming?’

‘He’s canny, is Alain. Friend of Conrad’s originally, and he’s now our lodger. Me and Desirée bought a flat. Alain works for Conrad’s sister Rachael.’

‘But he’s not a Mage, right?’

I shook my head. ‘Alain’s in the team because Conrad trusts him and because he’s French. You don’t speak it, do you?’

She snorted. ‘Learning Welsh and English was hard enough. Fancy another martini before dinner? It’s not bad this ship, is it?’

It wasn’t. Quite nice, really, and quite quiet, which meant that Conrad could afford to get us an en-suite cabin each on expenses, something I was very glad of the next morning.

‘I think I’d better drive today,’ I said when I saw Helen. I’d had to go searching for her when she didn’t appear for breakfast. One look at her face told me she’d not had a good night.

‘You better had,’ said a rather green Helen. ‘Can I have another hour throwing up before you get me?’

‘Be my guest. Are you regretting that fourth gin now?’

‘Grrurp,’ said Helen, before shutting the door gently in my face.

‘Sorry I couldn’t get four rooms,’ said Conrad after we’d hugged in reception. ‘I’ve put you in with Helen, if that’s okay.’

‘So long as it’s a twin room. I’m not surprised you couldn’t afford it; this place is awesome, Uncle C.’ I wasn’t exaggerating. The Grand Hotel des Bains is pretty much your ultimate health hotel and hydrotherapy spa, perched on the cliffs and all pine and clean smells. ‘Why are we here, in this hotel specifically?’

He shrugged. ‘Recommendation. I’ll explain later. How’s Helen?’

‘Gone for a walk round. She’s a lot better than she was. Where’s Alain?’

‘Sorting out a meeting room and lunch. The clock’s ticking on this one, Vic.’

‘Isn’t it always?’

‘Usually. Here’s your key. I’ll go and give Helen hers. Meet back here in half an hour?’

As well as giving Helen her key, Conrad was going for a crafty smoke outside. ‘No problem,’ I said. I held out the car keys. ‘Fetch the bags while you’re at it, will you?’

He took the keys. ‘Yes, ma’am. Anything else, ma’am?’

‘That’ll be all for now.’

I changed my top before lunch and forced myself to look at the scars that Adaryn had left me. The visible ones, anyway. When Myfanwy had brought me back, the electricity had burnt me, and it had been the NHS who finished the job, so no special Mage Healing. Mostly, I ignore them. I didn’t take a holiday this year (for reasons that had nothing to do with Adaryn), so the question of bikinis didn’t rear its ugly head. It will soon, though.

When we met up again and found the room, lunch turned out to be a healthy buffet. Stuff that. I broke off half a crusty baguette and made meself a sandwich. Then I made another for Helen, who was feeling a lot better.

After food, Helen cleared away the mess and poured coffee. Okay, perhaps Conrad was right about the maternal thing. The man himself started passing out papers, and left them face down. He had not just one, but a stack of four shiny new passports as well, but he kept them to himself.

‘Here’s what happened,’ he began. ‘Keira Faulkner’s mother called me on Wednesday morning, two days ago. Augusta said that Keira had gone missing suddenly on Tuesday night. Her phone is out of service and Augusta has reason to believe she is in danger.’

We looked at each other uncomfortably. Helen spoke first. ‘Why is this our problem, not the … What do they call their King’s Watch over here?’

‘It’s the Sûreté de magie,’ said Conrad, ‘and the reason it’s our problem is that Keira told her mother that she’d found Adaryn.’ He paused. ‘Even then, it should still be a Sûreté problem. However, it won’t surprise Vicky to hear that Keira’s been a naughty girl.’

I groaned. ‘What’s she done?’

‘She got kicked out of Paris, for one thing. That’s what prompted her to beg for mercy.’

‘Is she stupid or what? How’d she get kicked out of one of the most magickally permissive cities in Europe?’

Conrad shook his head. ‘Officially, she simply left. Unofficially, she pissed off Les Fils de Pierre. The Gnomes. And she embarrassed the Sûreté.’

‘Bet that went down like a lead balloon,’ said Helen.

‘It did. She gave her official residence as the city of Saint-Brieuc, which is why we’re here.’ He sighed. ‘And this is where it gets complicated. I spoke to my opposite number in the Sûreté, a lady called Elodie Guerin, and she sent the mundane Gendarmes around to check the address. It was a short-term rental property, and Keira hasn’t been there for weeks. Madame Guerin isn’t interested in looking for Keira, and is quite happy for us to do so. That’s our official mission.’

‘Do the Sûreté know about Adaryn?’ asked Helen.

‘They do, and they did look for her when she first came to France. They don’t know that Keira was looking for her, too.’

I know Conrad, and I know when he’s getting to the tricky bit, because he pulls at his lip. ‘Augusta Faulkner has told me the rest. I saw her yesterday afternoon, and she’s hopping mad.’

‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘She blames us for all this.’

Conrad made eye contact with me. ‘You know what, I don’t think she does. Yes, she expects us to find her daughter, because that’s why we’ve been put on this earth, but no, she admits that whatever hole Keira’s in was entirely of Keira’s digging.’

‘Go on then. Tell us.’

‘Keira’s crimes against the King’s Peace were enough to make her stand out in Paris, but not out here,’ he continued. ‘She created a new mundane identity for herself and pretended to be on sabbatical. Got herself a job with a Mage called Avril Ménard down the road in Pont Menou. That’s where we’re off to now.’

‘Let me get this straight,’ said Helen. ‘The Sûreté know nothing of Avril Ménard’s connection to Keira?’ Conrad nodded. ‘Who is Avril? Is she dangerous? Do you think she’s been shielding Adaryn?’

‘All I know is what Augusta could tell me. Avril Ménard is a Necromancer, she’s not local and she’s not a Druid – a Druiz in Breton. Keira took the first job she could get that would utilise her talents, and Mme Ménard has no connection to Adaryn.’

‘So what’s the plan?’

‘Have a look at the printouts. Mme Ménard’s house has a ring round it.’

I turned over the papers and discovered a printout from Google Earth of a tiny village surrounded by fields and with a wood to the north. The Mage lived in the wood. Don’t they always? I also noticed that the passports had disappeared into one of Conrad’s many pockets. I looked around the group and guessed what was coming. Alain would be going, of course. That’s why he was here. Conrad would leave Helen out of it to protect her, and although he does have a big ego, it’s also true that he has an international reputation. There is only one 6’4” English Mage with a limp who wears a ring from Odin. It was too much of a risk.

‘What’s my cover story?’ I said.

Conrad grinned. ‘Keira would have mentioned a younger sister, so you can be an old friend or a cousin. Up to you. And Alain can be a colleague or your boyfriend, whichever comes most naturally.’

When I first met Conrad he tried to set me up with Alain. He is a good looking bloke, in a suave kind of way, and great fun. He’s also poorer than me and quite scared of Conrad, so the moment passed and that’s why we’re friends. What? You think I’m shallow? Guilty.

‘Cousin,’ I said. ‘And Alain is a friend of my brother who’s doing me a favour.’ I looked further. ‘Who’s this Eleanor Weyland and what’s she got to do with anything.’

‘Eleanor is your cover name.’

I looked at him mutinously. ‘Why Eleanor? I hate that name. There was a lass at school called Eleanor who made my life a misery.’

‘Sorry. Too late now. That other sheet also has Satnav details for the supermarket in Plestin-les-Grèves, two kilometres from Pont Menou. I’ll go to Pont Menou with Helen and reconnoitre; you two wait in the car park.’

Alain had followed everything intently and now spoke. ‘Good. Come on, Elinor.’

It sounded even worse when he said it like that. I pointed the finger at him. ‘Less of that, you. Eleanor Pickett was not a Mage and I got my revenge on her back in the day. Don’t tempt me.’

He shrugged. ‘What am I supposed to call you, then?’

I didn’t dignify that with an answer.

9 — Acceleration

‘I thought the French were supposed to be mad drivers,’ I said as we drove out of the little village.

‘They are,’ said Alain. ‘Unless they drive a rental car, like this. I have signed all the papers in my own name. When we get to Mme Ménard’s house, shall I speak first?’

‘You’ll get used to this, Alain,’ I replied carefully. ‘When you’re with a Mage and you meet another Mage, they won’t care about you, no matter how good looking you are. She’ll know that I have magick before she answers the door. Can you teach me something to say so I stop her slamming the door in our faces?’

Alain still can’t get his head around the fact that I don’t speak a word of French. Not one. I did Spanish for two years at mundane school and was excused languages at boarding school for “special lessons”. Magick, in other words. I still had to do games, though. Urgh. He also can’t believe that this was my first visit.

He thought for a moment, then said something in French.

‘You what?’

He said it again, more slowly. I still didn’t get it.

‘Never mind, I’ll stick to Latin.’

‘You speak Latin?’

‘Of course not, but every Mage in Europe understands in pacem. In peace.’

‘Let’s have another go. Just five words, and you know the first two already. Bonjour Madame.’

Okay, so maybe I did know two words of French. ‘Bonjour Madame,’ I repeated.

A pained look came over his face. He kept his eyes on the road and sighed.

‘What?’

‘The word Bonjour has a zh sound not a j sound. Never mind. Just listen to the noises I make.’

‘Hey! Have I ever complained that you call me Veekee, not Vicky? No, so wind your neck in.’

He shook his head again. ‘Forget about the words. Just listen, OK? Right. Zhevey Anne.’

‘Zhevey Anne.’

‘On Pay.’

‘On Pay.’

‘Zhevey Anne on Pay.’

‘Zhevey Anne on Pay.’

‘Good. We will quit while we are ahead, as Rachael says at the casino.’

That was ever so slightly alarming. ‘Do you go often?’

He realised what he’d said. Alain is very good at Chinese Walls – keeping his relationships with Conrad and Rachael apart.

He shrugged. He does that a lot. ‘Only one time. I was her guest with a potential client. He lost 20K in the evening while Rachael made two. He is not a very good client.’

He was lying. His accent may be dodgy, but his English is too good. He said Rachael says, meaning more than once. I left it there, and we were soon at the Super-U.

‘We have a while, no?’ said Alain.

‘Aye.’

‘Good. Excuse me.’

He was half way out of the car with a holdall before I could say, ‘Howay, man, where are you going?’

‘There is a Tabac here. Conrad and I need supplies. I won’t be long.’

‘You’re a bad influence on each other,’ I called out to his retreating back. You’d think it would be warmer in Brittany. Perhaps it was, but it was also damp and windy. Autumn was well under way here. I looked around the car park, and the lights were different, but that was about the only way of telling that I was in a foreign country. At least we’d have a proper French meal in a proper French hotel tonight. Unless Conrad dragged us off on a night-time assault. It’s been known. I could picture the future conversation with me mother now:

How was France, pet? What was it like?

Well, Mam, I saw a car park and got shot at in the dark. That’s it.

I got me phone out and checked the WhatsApp group we’d called Halloween in case someone looked. It included me, Mina, Myfanwy, Erin and Saffron. What? You didn’t think Mina would let me out of the country without a solemn oath to tell her everything, did you?

And Myfanwy has a right to know. Conrad would go absolutely mental if he thought Myfanwy was in the loop, because of the Dragon. Yes, I know he trusts her with his life. He wouldn’t let her live in his house if he didn’t, and he wouldn’t be best man at her wedding to Ben if he was worried, but she’d been part of the Brotherhood. She used to hang off Adaryn’s every word. He’d rather lose her and Ben as friends than put the operation in jeopardy. Not for his sake, mind, but for Helen and Alain. And me. It must be lonely at the top.

Which is why it’s a good job he has Mina. If he allowed himself to think about it, Conrad would understand that Mina would eviscerate Myfanwy if she betrayed the mission. Good word that, eviscerate. Mina taught it to me, and she was using it in the true, original sense. It was also Mina who set up the WhatsApp group, and Mina who insisted on Myfanwy being involved. She can take risks with Conrad that I can’t.

Erin and Saffron? If they weren’t in the group, they’d sulk and Myfanwy would have to tell them anyway. I’d left them a short voicenote from the hotel while Alain was sorting the car.

Mina: Is there something Conrad’s not telling you?

Saffron: It would be a first if there wasn’t.

Mina: Hey! That’s my job.

Saffron: Just sayin

Me: He’s got some dodgy passports for some reason. Erin…

Erin: Don’t look at me! I’m not the only Enscriber in England. Or France.

Myfanwy: Take care.

It didn’t take long for Alain to reappear. Helen and Conrad weren’t far behind, and we climbed into the back of Helen’s Range Rover.

‘She’s at home,’ said Conrad. ‘Lights are on in the house. It is a bit gloomy out there. There’s just her car in the drive.’

I took a deep breath. ‘We’re on then?’

‘We are. You’re not going to like the next bit: Keira’s cover name. Augusta thinks she may have issues, because she called herself Mina Leclerc.’

‘What! You’re having me on, Conrad.’

‘I wish I was.’

‘For flip’s sake, why?’

‘Augusta asked the same question. Apparently Keira said, “If you can’t beat them, join them.” And yes, Augusta wasn’t happy telling me, but that’s the name her daughter used with Avril Ménard, so that’s who you’re looking for.’

He paused to let that sink in, then turned his attention to Alain. ‘These are your orders. One, do everything that Vicky tells you and do it without question. Got that?’

‘Of course,’ said Alain. He said like he meant it, which was quite reassuring.

Conrad wasn’t finished. ‘Two, stand or sit behind her at all times. Three, translate everything that’s said after Mme Ménard welcomes you. Four, accept any hospitality graciously.’ He waited for Alain to nod, and handed me a Harrods bag. A proper hessian one. ‘This gift will prove you know “Mina”. We’ll be close. Take care.’

Helen added, ‘Good luck, you two.’

We slipped out of the car and looked at each other. There was a twinkle in Alain’s eyes. He was up for this.

It wasn’t a big house, but it was much bigger than a cottage. That’s all I can tell you. It also looked very French, and I couldn’t work out why. Then it hit me: the shutters. Do all French houses have them, or only old ones? And lots of twiddly ironwork around the place. No, I have no idea how old it was. I took a picture before we got out of the car and sent it quickly to the Halloween group.

Alain led the way and knocked confidently on the door, before stepping back and standing behind me. Good boy.

Madame Ménard was older than I expected, well into her late sixties or early seventies in Mage years. I looked at the hand holding the door, and her grip was firm: no trace of the Mage’s Curse. She was the first private French citizen I’ve met (hotel staff were all in uniform), and yes she was very chic, from her elegant silver hair to her tailored dress to her posh shoes. I’m not a shoe expert, by the way. More of a handbag girl. Comes from having big feet, I suppose. She raised a sculpted eyebrow when she saw us, and that was my cue.

‘Zhevay Anne on Pay, Madame Maynard.’

She started using her Sight to scope me out, and I returned the favour. I had to hold my nose, magickally speaking, because I do not like Necromancers as a rule. All that hanging around with Spirits is a bit creepy if you ask me. She didn’t give a lot away, and I could feel power held in check.

She spoke, and that was Alain’s cue. I even understood his first two words in reply. ‘Merci, Madame.’ Then he switched to translating. ‘Madame Ménard welcomes us and politely asks our business.’

‘Thank you, madame. I am Eleanor Weyland, and this is my friend Alain Dupont.’

‘I understand,’ she said evenly and in English.

‘I am a cousin of Mina Leclerc. We are worried about her.’

She frowned and rattled off something very quick to Alain. He responded in his best trust-me-I’m-honest voice and finished with, ‘Eleanor, the gift?’

I offered her the Harrods bag and she took it gingerly before peering inside. When she saw the box of Yorkshire Gold teabags, her face lit up. With relief and worry in equal amounts, I reckon. ‘Welcome in peace,’ she said. ‘Please come inside.’

Her heels tapped across the tile floor, and she led us to a sitting room that can only be described as elegant and uncomfortable. No wonder French women all have straight backs.

‘I will make tea,’ she announced.

Alain translated the next bit for her. ‘All my life I have wondered why the English like tea, and it was only when Mina made it that I understood. Please sit down. I will not be a long time.’

‘This is so wrong,’ I whispered when she’d gone. ‘Keira is not Mina.’

There was a book and a pair of glasses on a side table next to the settee, so I sat in an armchair opposite her place and Alain pulled a chair from the wall to sit behind me. When you ignored the high ceiling and the draughty windows and the dark furniture, I suppose it was quite cosy.

Mme Ménard wasn’t long, and placed a tray with teapot on a console table to the side. I couldn’t suppress a smile when I saw that the teapot had a knitted cottage teacosy. I wonder where she got that from?

‘Forgive me,’ she said. ‘I am alone today. Marie does not work today. Do you speak any French, mamzell?’

Alain coughed. ‘That’s you. Mademoiselle is you.’

‘I’m sorry. No. That’s why Alain is here.’

She nodded and switched to French. Alain coughed again. ‘She wants to know why you speak English with a Danish accent, because Mina never spoke about Danish relatives.’

‘Danish????’

‘I will explain.’

I have no idea how Alain explained the concept of Geordie to her. That bit never did get translated. She gave me a funny look and nodded, then poured the tea.

To keep things simple, can you just assume from now on that everything she says had to go through Alain? She asked him for clarification a few times, but mostly she understood me.

‘Mina didn’t talk much about her family,’ said Mme Ménard. I was ready for that one.

‘We’re third cousins or something,’ I replied. ‘My mother was very close to her mother. I’m sure she talked about her mother.’

Mme Ménard gave a wry smile. ‘She did. So you are here for Julie?’

Who the hell’s Julie? Oh. Right. The Mother at Lunar Hall is Julia, and as Keira’s real mother is August, the fake one might as well be July. The fact that Keira had blown the real Julia’s arm off is neither here nor there to Keira.

‘That’s right. For Julie. She is very worried. I came as soon as I could. She would have called you, but Mina never gave her your number.’

‘And I tried to find Julie Leclerc in England. There is the famous one, of course.’

‘Is there?’

Alain added, ‘There is a French TV host called Julie Leclerc.’

‘And a New Zealand Cook!’ said Mme Ménard. ‘I did wonder if Mina had made up her mother’s name, but as she never watched French TV, how could she know?’

I put on my best smile. ‘Believe me, madame, Aunt Julie is very real.’

‘So, Eleanor, how can I help? I am very worried about Mina. She said she was going out on Tuesday afternoon and I have heard nothing since. And before you ask, she did not say where she was going or who she was seeing.’

‘Could she have been seeing any of your clients? Has anything happened that might make her a target?’

She shook her head. ‘She barely saw my clients. Her role was to secure the perimeter. She would say hello and pass refreshments and then retire to keep the site secure.’

I did baulk a little at the thought of Keira Faulkner passing refreshments to anyone. It just didn’t compute somehow. It was time to add a bit of extra detail.

‘Well, apart from going running, what else did she do?’

‘Pfft.’

Yes, she really did say that. I thought it was only on bad films that French people said Pfft.

‘Always running. Running in the morning, running in the evenings. Obviously we work at night, so her time off was in the day. After a week, she started going out occasionally with my granddaughter, which was very strange. Mia is only eighteen.’

‘Where did they go?’

‘Mia took her to some of the main sites of magick, something I would have been happy to do myself, but they seemed to get on well. They went out one night last week and stayed out. My daughter was not happy, but nothing happened.’ She looked conflicted, as if she couldn’t decide whether to feel guilty about not caring for Keira or for introducing Keira to her granddaughter. ‘Mina went out on her own on Tuesday. Mia was home safe, so I thought nothing. I started to get really worried about Mina last night.’

Dammit! Why in the name of the Goddess did Keira have to pick that name? It was doing my head in.

‘Go on.’

Mme Ménard shifted her position and drank some tea. ‘I called my daughter, but Mia would not tell her anything and she said that she wasn’t worried. Children.’ She looked at Alain properly. ‘Monsieur, could you get the phone from the hall?’

He jumped up and jogged out of the room. A shiver was running down my spine. The last time that Keira had made friends with a teenage Witch, it had ended with Abbi on the altar, ready to sacrifice herself to Helen of Troy.

Alain returned with a cordless landline phone that must have been state of the art in the last century. And it still worked. Mme Ménard made a call and spoke ninety miles an hour to someone. She looked up and spoke to Alain.

‘She wants to know where we’re staying,’ he translated.

That wasn’t in the briefing from Conrad. I had to make the decision instantly: any hesitation would give it away. I told the truth mostly because the Grand Hotel des Bains is the only hotel I know of.

Mme Ménard relayed it to her daughter (I’m guessing), then drummed her fingers on the side table. ‘Bon.’ She put the phone down. ‘They will come to see you tonight at six.’

‘Thank you Madame Ménard,’ I said.

Having done her bit, she looked at me more carefully. I was ready to get up and go, but something stopped me. The next time she spoke, it was in English. ‘Mina has many troubles, I think. That is why she left England, non?’

‘Aye.’

‘Yes,’ said Alain, and I’m not sure if he was agreeing with me or translating.

‘She talked about a married man who broke her heart in Paris. Foolish girl. And many dettes. Dettes?’

‘Oui,’ said Alain. ‘Debts.’

‘Thank you. Many debts in England.’

You can say that again, I muttered to myself. ‘Can you be honest with us?’ I said out loud.

Mme Ménard frowned and switched back to French. ‘I have been nothing but honest. It is you and Mina who are keeping secrets.’

‘I know,’ I replied with a smile. ‘And you have been very helpful, madame. Did Mina take anything valuable with her when she left?’

Mme Ménard gave a bitter smile. ‘Tell me, has she done this before?’

‘Yes.’

‘Then I am pleased to tell you that your cousin has changed her ways. She did take something, but I lent it to her, and she left more valuable things in her room here. I know, because I checked. I also found another mobile phone, a much more expensive one. It is locked. You may see her room before you go.’

‘What did you lend her?’

‘The three …’ Alain’s translation ground to a halt. Mme Ménard had said something magickal. I had a good idea, though.

‘May I, Madame?’ I said, reaching into my bag. I don’t carry pictures of magickal Artefacts on my phone, but I knew what to Google. I searched and showed her the image.

‘Yes.’

‘We call them The Candles of Delphi. Did you show her how to use them?’

‘She knew the basics. I helped her practise a little. I do not think she had a future in my Art, but she wanted to learn.’

‘Thank you very much, madame. Could we see her room, please?’

She led us up a moderately grand staircase with more ironwork and then round to a dusty part of the house. ‘I gave her the room far from me. Privacy and quiet for both of us. I will wait for you downstairs.’

We pushed open the door and Alain’s first thought pretty much summed it up.

‘She lives like a nun.’

‘Aye, but without the crucifix over the bed.’

We found a lot of running gear, some jeans and tops, and then a load of expensive dresses pushed to the back of the wardrobe: relics of her time with Marcus, I suppose. Augusta had mentioned that part briefly, just in case Keira had done something stupid. The good stuff was under the bed.

‘What is this?’ said Alain, staring at the pile of crystal balls, mirrors and brass disks.

‘Avril wasn’t lying,’ I replied. ‘This stuff is worth way more than a spare set of candlesticks. Come on, we’d better go.’

We ignored the phone on the nightstand and thanked Mme Ménard.

‘I hope she is safe, and please tell her that her position with me is still open.’ She passed Alain a piece of paper. ‘My number, if you have any questions. Or if you have news.’

‘Is it me or do we spend a disproportionate amount of time in car parks? Just asking,’ I grumbled.

Conrad likes his comforts. I’m living in his house during the week, remember, so I know all about his luxuries. But when he’s on duty, he seems totally oblivious of rain/cold/howling gales. He looked at Alain and they shrugged at each other.

‘Beats back alleys,’ said Helen. ‘I’ve spent more of my life in the dirty alleys of Swansea than I care to remember. Right, I’ve got one cappuccino, two Americanos and one Rocket Fuel. Come on then, Vicky, spill the beans.’

I nearly snorted my coffee. ‘Did you ever say that to a real suspect?’

She tilted her head to one side. ‘A few times. You’d be amazed at people’s expectations of police stations. Unless they’ve grown up with them, of course.’ She looked into her coffee cup. ‘Too many kids saw more of our nick than they did of any school. What you got?’

‘I’ve got a wannabe Necromancer on the loose with a set of Delphic Candlesticks, a teenage girl who might be being lined up as the next incarnation of Helen of Troy and a meeting at six o’clock in the hotel. Our hotel.’

Alain and I gave our report, pausing only to explain the significance of the candles to Alain.

‘You know that Spirits float about invisible most of the time?’ I asked, to check how much lore he’d picked up.

‘So Eseld told me. I have to take her word for it.’

‘Well, they do. And most of the time, they can only see our world dimly. You use the candlesticks to make a Delphic Triangle. That’s like a combined lighthouse and charging station. The Spirits come up, and if you want, you can let one of them into the triangle. They get enough Lux to achieve a partial manifestation. I’ve done it meself a few times. Just to pass the module at the Invisible College.’

‘That’s more than I have,’ said Helen. ‘Way beyond me, that.’

‘Me too,’ said Conrad. ‘And just to be clear, Keira couldn’t use the triangle to summon Helen?’

‘Why naa.’ I wagged my finger at him. ‘Remember, Conrad, the word summon should only be used with a capital letter, and it’s a whole other ballgame compared to Calling the Dead, which is what I’m talking about. Could you, personally, do a full service on a Chinook with a motor vehicle toolkit?’

‘No.’

‘Neither could Keira Summon Helen. However, she might have Called her. I’d be surprised, though. Very risky.’

He nodded and pulled his lip. ‘Excellent work, Vic. You, too, Alain.’

Alain pointed to me. ‘She was brilliant. She had Avril eating out of her hand. I did not believe how quickly she trusted you, Vicky.’

I shook my head. ‘Once she knew we weren’t with the Sûreté, she didn’t care. Her business is illegal, or she wouldn’t have hired Keira. Once we’d shown up, it was in her interest to give full disclosure.’

He looked at the three of us. ‘Will you tell the Prefect?’

As one, we shook our heads.

‘We’d better go,’ said Conrad. ‘You’ll need time to prep before the meeting.’

‘What are you trying to say? Is it me hair? I hate this weather.’ I reached for my phone to check.

Conrad looked like butter wouldn’t melt. ‘I assumed you’d be messaging Mina. At least, I hope you will, because I need to have difficult conversations with Hannah and Augusta. Swap, if you like?’

‘Go away, Conrad. I take it you’ll both be there.’

He looked at Helen. ‘You take the bar and I’ll watch from the terrace.’ Helen nodded. ‘Okay, you two head back. I need to get something from the supermarket.’

I gave him a dark look. ‘I thought Alain had already stocked up on fags for you.’

‘Oh, it’s not for me, it’s for you, Vic. See you later.’

When Saffron was working with Conrad, he made her do a disguise, physical and magickal. She showed me one night when we’d had a bottle, and it’s very good. If Conrad tried the same with me, he’d be wearing it himself on the Eurostar going home. So there.

10 — Lounging Around

‘I ’ave told you before, Vicky, your ’air does not like being straightened.’

The longer we spent in France, the thicker Alain’s accent had got. He was dropping his aitches again.

‘It’s hair, with a “h”, and it’s none of your business.’

He smirked. ‘That means I’m right, and you know it. I shall order for us an invigorating hhhhherbal tea.’

I never did find out Avril’s daughter’s name. Not even her last name. She marched Mia into reception at ten past six with a face like thunder, and everyone in the hotel turned to look. The mother looked like she’d come straight from a lawyer’s office, so sharp was the suit, and Mia looked like she’d come straight from a 1960s folk festival.

The mother clocked us in seconds and came over. We stood up, and she stopped outside hand-shaking distance. Her English was much better than Avril’s, and I could sense very little magick in her. Perhaps she really was a lawyer.

‘My daughter would only talk to you on her own. For some reason she thinks that I will tell all her secrets to the Gendarmes or the Prefect of Magick.’ She softened for a second. ‘She is very worried about Mina, and I am glad that someone is here to stop her running into danger.’ She thought about what she’d said. ‘Promise me that you will not take her with you looking for that woman.’

She’d made as much eye contact with Alain as she had with me, something she wouldn’t do if she had notable magick. She looked to Alain for the promise, and he pointed to me.

‘I don’t want to get all legal with you,’ I responded carefully, ‘but she is eighteen.’

The woman snorted. ‘I know that, which is why I want your promise or I will drag her out by the dressdress.’

‘Sorry?’

Alain said, ‘Tresse d’Déesse. Goddess Braid.’

Aah. My eye went to the woman’s neck, something I should have checked before. Yes. A tiny gold crucifix on a chain. Oooh. Big family differences.

‘I promise not to do anything without your permission,’ I said.

‘Good. And do not buy her alcohol.’ She gave us a nod and went to find a seat on the other side of the lounge.

You have to remember that the Hotel des Bains is a health spa. Yes, they do corporate stuff, but they are not used to tense discussions happening in a public place. The manager had appeared and was giving us the eye. When the two Ménard women swapped places, he followed the mother to take care of her personally.

We stayed standing while Mia came over, the skirts of her velvet ensemble skimming the floor. Somewhere in my genetic memory, a song started playing: the chorus of Lady Eleanor. Being a Geordie, you grow up with certain cultural values that are not just unique to Newcastle but totally bonkers. Newcastle United is the obvious example, as are stotty cakes and the Blaydon Races. Fading a little but still there is the Lindisfarne Christmas Concert. That’s Lindisfarne the band, not Lindisfarne the island. What with my cover name and Mia’s outfit, one of their three hits just popped into me head.

‘Hello, Mia, my name’s Lady Eleanor.’

Did I just say that? Alain’s mouth dropped open. Yes, I did just say that.

‘Sorry, I mean Eleanor Weyland.’ And then I felt it: Mia had psychic powers.

Now that is very, very rare. Thankfully, they were undeveloped or she’d have caught me on the hop, and as it was they’d worked in my favour, because the first thing she said was. ‘That is nice. Your parents name you for the song?’

‘Yes, they did, as it happens.’

While I was regrouping my mental powers, Alain leaned over and shook Mia’s hand, giving her an even better chance to dig into his head. I wasn’t too worried, though. Believe it or not, being mundane gives you protection. The lecturer in mind magick had told us that for a psychic, trying to probe a mundane mind is like trying to navigate a swamp in the dark. Oh, bit of trivia; if you’re wondering why psychics don’t have a capital letter (like we Sorcerers do), it’s because the real name is in German, begins with an “M” and has ten syllables. No doubt Conrad will use it at some point.

Defending against psychic powers is something they don’t teach you at Salomon’s House because there aren’t enough psychics to practise with. Even though the magick inside us makes it easier to be probed in theory, in reality most Mages have built-in defences. My subconscious mind had shunted her query about my false identity into a genuine memory. One day she’ll learn to find her way round that. Hopefully, she’ll also learn some manners.

‘Have a seat, Mia. I don’t know what the rules are in France, but where I come from we don’t scan people without asking first. Not unless we want a fat lip.’

Mia went red, darted her eyes around the room and said something to Alain in French. He replied, then said to me. ‘I was explaining the fat lip. I think she has the message. Also, she says her English is not as good as her mother’s.’

We sat down, and I took another look at her. She was a young eighteen and would definitely get carded if she tried to buy alcohol for herself. The half peasant/half goth outfit was mostly green and she’d extended it to her hair. Either by magick or a precision dye job, one of the three braids of her long brown hair was actually green. I’ll go for magick.

The Goddess Braid didn’t rule out her being at the College of St Raphael, but it would be unusual, so I asked her where she was studying, trying to change the subject away from psychic probes. Her answer was a real test of my poker face.

‘With the Druids.’

She pronounced it sort of like Druieeze. No wonder Keira had latched on to her – a real shortcut to finding Adaryn. I left that there for the moment and said, ‘Your mother told you that I’m Mina’s cousin, right?’

‘Yes.’

‘Well, Mina’s mother is very worried about her, which is why she asked us to come and look for her. She’d have come herself, but she doesn’t have the power I do.’

‘You mean she can’t be bothered.’

Whoa! Where did that come from? Augusta Faulkner is like a total lioness when it comes to her daughter. Clearly Keira didn’t have the same opinion and had shared it with Mia.

I looked over at Mia’s mother, and I realised that Keira had played Mia like a fiddle. Mia had grown up with at least one strict but loving parent in a protected environment. Now, I don’t want you to think that I lived on the mean streets of Newcastle. I didn’t. What I did have was a long rein. I am only seven years older than Mia; it felt like seventy right then.

She saw me looking at her mother. I decided to reverse the psychology. ‘If you went totally missing for three days, like Mina has, what would your mother do? Seriously.’

‘She would look in every henhouse, outhouse and doghouse for me.’ There was a nervous smile. ‘That was one of Mina’s favourite films. She told me about when she told me the truth about who she was and why she left Albion.’

This was a crunch moment, and I wasn’t sure how to play it. I sat back and looked at Alain. He lifted his chin fractionally, and I nodded.

‘Mia,’ he said, very softly. She’d been giving him little looks since she sat down, and now she turned to look at him properly. He asked a question in French and left it hanging. I had to trust him on this one.

She flashed him a flirty smile and looked at me. ‘He asked me which version of the truth she told me. The second time we met, I made the … sonde?’

‘Probe. Sounding works, too.’

‘I made the sounding and she blocked me totally without noticing. When I tried again, she took my hand in hers, like this.’ She leaned over and took Alain’s hand, much to his embarrassment. After a second, embarrassment turned to shock.

He swore in French. I think. ‘How do your hands become like marble? Solid as stone?’

Mia let him go. ‘Mina told me that she has to wear armour all the time, and that I had to trust her to tell the truth in time. That day she said that she had stolen gold from the Dwarves.’

‘This is serious?’ said Alain.

Mia is a very touchy-feely person. For good reason. She gripped Alain’s fingers and gave them a light squeeze. ‘It is a story. A legend,’ she told him. ‘Anyone who says they steal gold from the Dwarves is dead or a liar.’

‘Did she ever tell you the truth?’ I asked.

Mia shook her head. ‘It didn’t matter.’

‘And if she’s not in danger, what will she say when we find her?’

‘She will use some of the English swear words she would not teach me.’

‘So let’s start looking, shall we? What did you do together?’

‘I showed her the large sites. The Loci Lucis? Good. Yes, I showed her them. She had never been to Wales and wanted to know about Druid magick. We went to an open meeting and she was very respectful. We went to one site a couple of times and she showed me some of her magick. She is a very good teacher.’

‘Why that site?’ I asked, not wanting to jump straight in with a where question.

‘It had deep Ley lines. Very few people can tap them. She can. I know she went back to practise Necromancy, but she wouldn’t let me go. My grandmother had forbidden it, and she would do nothing to upset grand-maman.’

‘Where was it, pet?’

‘Pet?’

Alain said something equivalent, and Mia smiled.

‘Dol-de-Bretagne. In the east of the land. It’s where we went to the concert, as well.’

Yes! Bullseye! ‘Oh, aye? Was it contemporary or traditional music?’

She shook her head. ‘I cannot tell you. I should not have said. It does not matter.’

Mia could wait. Helen was going to follow them when they left, and it clearly wasn’t far.

‘Thank you so much,’ I said. I took out my “present” from Conrad and passed it over. He’d been to the little repair shop at the supermarket and come back with half a dozen business cards, giving me a choice of being Eleanor Weyland: Private Imprimatist or Eleanor Weyland: Independent Financial Adviser. Having seen Mia’s mother, I opted for the magickal cover story. ‘Text me your number, Mia. We might need your help again.’

She took the card and dealt with it immediately, pulling her phone from a well-concealed pocket in her skirt and messaging me.

We all stood up, and I risked a handshake. Alain went for the double kiss, and she had words for him.

‘Goodbye, Alain.’ A mischievous grin spread on her face. ‘Good luck with that girl. Sophie, is it? Au revoir, Eleanor. And good luck. Please find her.’

We watched them go. Helen had slipped out ahead of them as soon as we stood up, and she’d be waiting in her car in the village to put a tail on them, as she no doubt never said. When they were through the swing doors, I turned to Alain.

‘You are in so much shit if Conrad ever finds out about Sofía.’

He was horrified. ‘Non. It is not true!’

‘Don’t lie, Alain.’

‘Well, yes, I like her very much, but no, I wouldn’t dare. You should have heard what he said to me.’

‘I can guess.’ I could see Conrad moving towards the doors and lowered my voice. ‘If you do ask her out, remember that it has to be exclusive and you are not allowed to chuck her under any circumstances. Clear?’

‘Believe me, I will never ask Sofía out. End of.’

Conrad sat in the chair that Mia had just vacated. ‘Excellent work. Both of you.’

‘How do you know that?’ said Alain.

‘Because I can read Vicky like a book. She hit gold. Go on, spill the beans. You know you’re dying to.’

‘On one condition: you promise that we follow it up in the morning. I want me dinner.’

‘Is Keira in imminent danger?’

‘How the hell should I know?’

He grinned. ‘If she dies horribly tonight, can you live with that on your conscience?’

Alain looked alarmed. I know better.

‘Totally.’

‘The table’s booked for eight. Should give Helen time to get back and get changed. Right. Let’s go for a proper drink and you can tell me all about it.’

A quick phone call to Mme Ménard established that Mia was probably telling the truth and that the Locus Lucis was also a mundane tourist attraction: Le Menhir de Champ-Dolent (which means Big Rock in the Field of Tears). And then something amazing happened.

‘Alain and I will reconnoitre tomorrow. You and Helen can have a spa day.’

‘So the boys go out to play and the girlies have a spa? What books have you been reading?’

He shrugged. ‘Come and look at the rock if you want. No skin off my nose. If I wanted you out of the way, I’d just order you to stay put or disappear in the night. You do know it’s a two hour drive don’t you?’

Helen had just got back (Mia lived in a large house not two minutes from that supermarket car park). She had no idea what we’d been discussing, but she heard what Conrad said and turned to me.

‘Are you mad, girl? Have you seen the spa menu?’ She rummaged in her bag and took out her keys. ‘There you go, boys. The Range Rover’s much comfier. No smoking in the car. Now, Vicky, spill the beans.’

We groaned and I started again.

Dinner was excellent. I’m not a connoisseur of fine dining, but this was right up there with the best I’ve had. Alain chose the wine and Helen told stories about her time in Swansea CID. After what she’s been through, being a Watch Captain must be light relief most of the time.

The boys had gone by the time we got to breakfast, and the spa lived up to its billing. Except for one thing. With no Alain to translate, I accidentally found myself standing naked at the end of a tiled room while a big lass with a powerful hose sprayed me with cold sea water. I kid you not. She also clocked my scars.

When I emerged from that, tingling and slightly dazed, we’d had a message: Get yourselves something to eat and be ready to leave at 18:00.

Ah well, dinner two nights running would have been a bit too much. ‘What are you going to wear?’ asked Helen.

‘Something comfortable, dark, warm and waterproof.’

She sighed. The reality of life in Team Conrad was starting to bite. ‘And there’s me paying twenty Euros to have me hair styled.’

I cast an eye over it. ‘You were robbed.’

‘Vicky, that doesn’t make me feel any better. I need carbs and I need them now.’

‘You and me both.’

11 — Enemies, Old and New

‘Well, what have you been up to?’ I asked Alain when we set off. Conrad had said that Alain could fill me in rather than waste time having a collective discussion.

‘It is very strange watching Conrad walk round a menhir. To me it looks like radical theatre. Or exercise time in the prison. He was most distracted and made a lot of calls. I have a report.’

‘You what?’

‘A moment.’ I waited while Alain checked carefully for traffic and joined the main road east. ‘Good. He said I had to remember this and tell you.’

‘Why didn’t he call me? I thought that’s what I was here for.’

‘He said you’d ask that. He didn’t want to disturb you, and that he needed to talk to Eseld and someone called Chris Kelly.’

‘Oh. Right. Fair enough. They know more about Wards and Ley lines than I do.’ Would I have been more pleased or annoyed if he’d dragged me out of a whole-body replenishing massage? On reflection, more annoyed. ‘Go on then.’

‘He says that the menhir is a very old gateway. It sits in the middle of an ancient aeroplane.’ He paused. ‘He didn’t say that, did he?’

‘No, I don’t think he did. I think he said that it was a Grove of the Old Gods and that it exists on an elevated plane.’

He thought about it. ‘He did say all of that. I shall have to have lessons. I do remember the next part. It has a sun-cap and we can do nothing until after dark.’

All creatures have strengths in magick. Amongst other things, the Fae are experts on curating spaces on higher planes and creating access points, but they don’t have a monopoly. The Fae spread through Europe in the late Bronze Age. We think. There was already magick here, and the native humans had relationships with higher creatures who have since disappeared. They don’t like it at Salomon’s House, but everyone calls them the Old Gods. Nimue, the guardian Nymph of Britain may or may not be one of them.

Either way, some of those sites of ancient magick still exist, mostly very well hidden. It looked like the Menhir de Champ Dolent was better known, and a sun-cap suppresses the magick during the day, pushing it underground, which is where the real action is. Conrad has told you about his adventure at Draxholt, when he sank under the earth, and something similar would exist here. I sincerely hoped that we wouldn’t have to go there; my claustrophobia is much better than it used to be, but the thought of actually moving through the earth made me shiver.

‘You can’t have been on that all day,’ I said to change the subject.

‘No. We spent an hour at the menhir, then went to Dol. While Conrad made his calls, he sent me looking for Druids.’

‘What!’

He couldn’t do that. He wouldn’t do that. Yet he had. I tried to think it through from Conrad’s perspective. Alain has no magick. Alain is French. On his own, Alain wouldn’t be able to find the Palace of Rhiannon if he walked past it. But Druids, like most Circles of magick have a religious dimension and a mundane membership, too. Got it.

‘Let me guess,’ I said. ‘He told you to find all the cultural heritage places and museums and go chat up the girls.’

The smile gave it away. ‘Close, Vicky. He said I should talk to all the women and girls in Breton costume.’

I might have known. Still, I had once gone to see a Gnome wearing a short dress, and that’s just since I met Conrad. You don’t need to know about before. ‘And how did you get on?’

‘They are very passionate about their culture. In St Emilion, we are passionate about wine. Here, they are passionate about their language and their dreadful music. Morane has such a beautiful voice, it is a shame to waste it.’

‘Morane? Even by your standards, that was fast work.’

He shrugged modestly. One day he’ll get the message that his ability to charm women out of their knickers is not the best thing about him.

‘Morane. It means Sea, and yes, she is a Druid.’

‘How the hell do you know that?’

‘It is October. There are very few tourists. We had time to talk. I asked lots of questions about art, history, politics … and Druids. It was the only time she changed the subject. She works in a cultural centre and shop. There is not a single mention of Druids anywhere. Strange, non?’

I had to ask. I really had to know. ‘What did you say about yourself, Alain? How did you explain why you were here on a wet Saturday?’

‘Simple. I told her that I am a civil servant in the tax office, but really I want to be a writer, and I need to do lots of research. If you say you are in the finance office, no one ever cares.’

And the moral of today’s story, boys and girls, is that if you want to get someone’s attention, tell them that you’re a writer. Actually, that’s Alain’s real attraction to women. When he fixes you with those blue eyes, you get the feeling that he really wants to hear what you have to say. I have good evidence that all he’s thinking about is what you look like naked, but that’s not the point.

‘Anything else about the day?’

‘We had a nice lunch, then went back to the menhir. We practised some French. He is a good learner, unlike some people. Nothing else, really.’

And there it was. Conrad was up to something, and Alain either didn’t know or had been sworn to secrecy. ‘I’ll just message the girls, Alain.’

Me: Conrad is up to something.

Saffron: I asked around about this Elodie Guerin. She has a bad reputation with other women’s husbands.

Mina: I don’t worry about those ones.

Saffron: Not even Eseld??????

Mina: No, but we do need to find Eseld a man. Or a woman. I think you should volunteer, Erin.

Erin: Eurgh. That’s deffo Saffron’s job. I think they’re well suited. Both rich, both …

Saffron: Oy! No!

Myfanwy: Shut up, you lot. Erin, get on with the tea. We’ll be round at eight.

Which was nine o’clock, French time. We’d probably be going into action around then.

‘Which supermarket are we meeting in?’

‘We are not. The railway station is nearer. It has a huge car park.’

It did, and it wasn’t deserted. ‘The TGV stops here,’ said Alain. ‘All these cars will be people who ’ave gone to Paris for Le Weekend. That means weekend, in English.’

He thought that was hilarious and I haven’t got a flippin’ clue why. I don’t want to know, either. The one good thing about these briefings is that Conrad always provides coffee. I huddled into the Range Rover while the boys stood outside smoking.

‘What do you reckon, Helen? Did he give anything away?’

‘Our leader was noticeably unforthcoming on his movements at certain parts of the day, Vicky.’

‘Snap. Did he tell you Alain scored with a Druid?’

‘Yes, but he put it in more romantic terms. He is a big softie, really, isn’t he?’

I gave it some thought. ‘Mebbees. Officer and a gentleman. That sort of thing.’

‘Nothing wrong with that. Hang on a sec.’ She got out her phone and pressed a button. When it was answered, she whispered something in Welsh, waited a second and hung up. ‘I was just telling Hywel I loved him. Just in case. We split up once, you know. He was being a total dickhead about me working nights, and then I got shot at. We both realised we needed to change. Him more, obviously.’

‘Of course.’

‘And since then, I’ve never gone into an operation without telling him I love him. Just in case it’s the last thing I say to him. Do you know what he said the first time? He said, “Helen, one day you will call me a useless waste of space and then die crossing the road.” So I told him it wasn’t about making him feel better, it was about me. Here they come.’

Conrad got out his notebook and dripped rainwater on the leather seats. ‘According to French social media, the menhir is a popular meeting place for teenagers, but not at night in the freezing rain. You can never discount thrill-seekers, though. What are your suggestions for approaching it, Vic?’

I knew that was coming, and I had my answer ready. I’d even looked at the map. ‘You and I drive past once. If it’s clear of mundane activity, we go past a second time and I’ll activate the Discouragement Ward. I can do that from the car. Then we park up and approach on foot.’

‘I agree. That’s the plan, then. We’ll take the Renault. Don’t want to risk damaging the Range Rover.’

Alain didn’t look happy. The car was on his credit card.

‘What about us?’ said Helen.

‘Hold position here. It’s only two minutes away if you put your foot down.’

‘Why have you really brought me, Conrad? It’s not that I haven’t enjoyed it. Well, apart from the sea-sickness. I didn’t enjoy that.’ She shivered. ‘But what am I doing here?’

He was reaching for his pocket, and I thought he might light up. ‘Witness,’ he said. ‘And backup. You’re the cavalry and you’ve got Elodie Guerin’s number. Mostly you’re here to protect Alain.’ He grinned at Alain. ‘Not saying you need protecting or anything.’

I got the strange feeling that, for once, protecting Alain wasn’t top of the list. I think Helen is here to act as a witness. A witness for Elodie, for Hannah and for the Druid Council. He’d skipped over that one.

His hand emerged from his pocket with four bits of technology. ‘High powered Bluetooth ear and voice sets.’ In his other hand he had medical tape and make-up wipes. ‘You need to tape the mike to your cheek. Vicky, you call Helen, I’ll call Alain. I’ve already checked, and mobile coverage is good by the menhir. Any questions?’

‘Do we have a code word?’ said Helen, untangling the lead. ‘In case you need to summon us without giving the game away.’

‘Good thinking.’ He pulled his lip. ‘Horlicks. As in, “This is a right Horlicks.” That do?’

‘Urgh,’ said Helen. ‘Good job I hate the stuff.’

‘I have no idea what you are talking about,’ said Alain. ‘For once, I am glad. Bon chance, mes amis.’

We got in the Renault and Conrad adjusted the seat to cope with his enormous legs. I noticed it was an automatic, so he’d been planning this for a while. We established phone contact, and Conrad drove off.

‘What the fuck are you doing?’ I asked when he switched his headlamps off. We’d just left the main road, following the road sign into a narrow lane. ‘You’ll kill us.’

‘I’m testing my night vision.’

I gripped the dashboard and kept quiet. He slowed right down as we passsed between some hedges, then the view opened out across dead looking farmer’s fields. He drove slightly faster, then switched the lights back on. I breathed out.

‘It’s getting better, but still not good enough to drive on a foul and wet night like this. About twenty seconds.’

We turned through a couple of bends, past some bungalows and on to a straight road. I took a sharp inbreath.

‘By the Goddess, it’s huge,’ I said. ‘Is it as big to look at with mundane vision?’

‘Yes. What can you see?’

‘Power. Lots of power.’

That’s how I put it to Conrad. What I actually saw, given that it was pitch black and chucking it down with rain, was a boiling mass of darkness. Like looking into a well and seeing two octopuses fighting under the water. And when I say darkness, I don’t mean Evil. Or do I? There was definitely more than just power there, and then we were past it and I couldn’t see.

‘Any human activity?’

‘No.’

‘I’ll do a circuit. Quicker than trying to reverse in the dark.’

‘No, turn round, please. I need to be on the same side. I can’t work magick across you.’

There was a big T junction ahead, and Conrad swung the small car round easily. I wound down the window and got ready. He slowed right down this time, and I reached out with my hand, praying he didn’t go too close to a road sign. I grasped one of the tendrils of Lux streaming out of the menhir and tugged. Then I thought of the # sign and sent it down the wire of light.

A lot of public places with magick have Discouragement Wards that use a Work of magick shaped like the # symbol as the key to trigger them. I felt a wave of magick wash over me, telling me that dinner in the Hotel des Bains was much better than walking through the rain.

‘That’s a strong one,’ said Conrad. ‘Okay, Alain, we’re parking up now.’

The road was wide enough to leave the car on the verge with enough room for a lorry to get past. I pulled up the hood of my waterproof and squeezed out of the door. Conrad already had his gun out.

‘Aren’t you worried that those Gnomes in Cheshire had Anciles that were proof against your ammo?’ I asked, quickening my pace to catch up.

‘Not yet. Not here. I’ve got Lloyd looking into where they got them from, but they won’t be standard issue in France.’

When we got to the entrance, he could clearly see much better than me. ‘Can I use me torch?’

‘Yes.’

I shone the light on an information board and a picnic bench. Between them, a path ran down to the menhir. It was huge. Four or five times the height of a man. Or woman, like the woman standing at the base. The naked woman.

‘We have a reception committee,’ said Conrad for Alain’s benefit. ‘Not obviously hostile yet.’

‘We have a naked woman in the rain,’ I added for Helen. ‘Nothing suspicious about that.’

‘Is she blue?’ said Helen. ‘I would be.’

I didn’t answer, and we spread out to walk down the path. When I got closer, I recognised her, and so did Conrad: it was Keira Faulkner.

Or rather, it was a version of Keira. Probably the idea of herself she has in her head. I’ve only met her once, when I arrested her and I had to manhandle her. It was like handling a bag of sinews. This woman had Keira’s sharp features, but she had more curves, rounder hips and bigger, perkier tits. And totally salon hair instead of the trademark ponytail. Not a real person then.

Conrad bowed. ‘My lady, may I present Watch Captain Victoria Robson. Vicky, this is Helen of Troy.’

…Erm? What? OK.

My legs were telling me to run. My right leg even managed to turn itself round before I grabbed it and forced myself to bow. ‘My lady.’

‘I thought you’d never turn up,’ said Keira/Helen. The voice was cultured and rounded, like a good actress playing a Jane Austen character. Keira herself sounds like a whiny brat. ‘I was going to give it until midnight and let her go.’

‘You have Ms Faulkner?’ said Conrad with more calm than I felt.

Helen rolled her eyes. ‘I have her on life support. In the menhir. Her body is in a coma in the hospital at Dinan.’

‘Alain, could you get on to that?’ said Conrad.

Helen peered at his cheek. ‘Clever. You are a resourceful man.’

He holstered his gun and reached for his cigarettes. Sometimes that man can be totally infuriating. ‘Vicky, is there any way of verifying her statement?’

‘Only if I let her,’ said Helen. ‘And don’t talk about me as if I’m not here, Conny.’

He flicked his lighter. ‘Sorry. Why have you got Ms Faulkner trapped in a menhir, if you don’t mind me asking?’

‘She’s not trapped. She’s on life support. I saved her when she was attacked.’

‘You just happened to be around? Like a big sister?’

‘Don’t flirt with me unless you mean it.’ She’d been leaning against the rock, and stood up straight, moving and flexing her hips to draw the eye down. She even ran her hand down her waist to emphasise it. It was only a projection, of course, but she’d gone to the trouble of diverting the rain around it to preserve the illusion. When she ran her hand back up her body to her right breast, she let out a wave of magick that set my nerve ends tingling. If Alain had been next to me, instead of down the phone, I’d have jumped his bones there and then.

Conrad sucked on his cigarette and stood there, impervious, like a lighthouse in a storm.

Helen – Helen Davies – whispered in my ear, ‘Alain is through to the hospital.’

‘Forgive me,’ said Conrad. ‘I meant no insult, I was just curious.’

‘Apology accepted.’ Helen T flicked her hair away from her shoulders. ‘She called me here and helped me anchor on this lovely piece of power.’ She stroked the menhir and smiled like a cat. ‘She said she had a plan. The next time we met, she said she was going to see a man about a harp. The next thing I knew, her Spirit was wailing over the countryside like a banshee. I went and found that she’d been attacked. I scooped her up and brought her here.’

Conrad looked at me. ‘How does that work?’

‘The Bridge of Orpheus,’ I replied, more to Helen T than to him.

She rewarded me with a smile. ‘Correct. The stupid idiots who attacked her didn’t check.’

I turned to Conrad. ‘It’s like a tiny, tiny Ley line all the way to the hospital. If it’s severed, her mundane body will die.’ I turned back to Helen T. ‘I take it that Keira’s Spirit isn’t in any shape to go it alone?’

Helen shook her head sadly. ‘No. I can carry her, but I need help, which is why I’ve been waiting here. You should be able to manage it, if your friend drives.’

‘Good,’ said Conrad. ‘Now we know what the stakes are, what do you want? Bearing in mind that I don’t care whether Keira lives or dies, and that we can probably find Adaryn on our own.’

I was fairly sure that Conrad did care about Keira. She’d got herself into this mess looking for Adaryn. He wouldn’t walk away and let her die, would he?

She put her finger to her chin. ‘Ooh. Let’s see. What do I want? Nothing, Conny. Nothing at all.’

He pulled at his ear, a sign he’s annoyed. I wouldn’t dream of calling him Conny. ‘Which tells me two things,’ he observed. ‘First, that Keira has a copy of the Rite of Delphi, and second, that she still wants to Summon you in the future to get the Bowl of Cassandra. If I let her die, it’ll save the soul of some poor girl. Madame Ménard’s granddaughter for example.’

‘I’m not interested in Mia. She’ll be too old by the time Keira goes home, and I don’t like Gedankenübertragung Mages.’

Okay, I was wrong. I thought it began with “M”.

‘If not her, then someone else.’

‘You know better than that,’ said Helen T. ‘You can’t punish someone for a future crime.’

‘True. I was just letting you know that if Keira Faulkner ever does get back to England and try to Summon you, I’ll be there to stop her.’

Her eyes lit up. ‘Game on, Conny. Shall we go?’

‘No.’ He tapped his head. ‘I’ve been in the wars, Helen. Not like Troy, perhaps, but bad enough. If we reunite Keira’s elements, she could be out of it for days. She could have head injuries. She could have blanked everything out. There’s enough Lux here for you to manifest her Spirit. If she has something useful to tell us, we’ll escort you to the hospital. That’s the deal.’

‘What if she has nothing?’

‘I don’t think you’re bluffing, Helen. I’m certainly not.’ He turned to me. ‘If I walk away, Vic, what will you do?’

Damn him. Why did he have to put me on the spot? I started with the easy one. ‘If you ordered me to, I’d leave without a backward glance.’

I looked at his eyes for a clue, but they were invisible in the darkness.

‘And if I didn’t order you?’

I thought it through. What would happen? I took a deep breath. ‘I’d walk away. If I helped bring her back, Twinkletoes here would tell Keira what you’d done. The queue of psycho Mages who are after your blood is long enough without adding Keira Faulkner to it. I might cross you off me Christmas card list, though.’

The ghost of a smile flicked over his lips. He opened his mouth, then flicked his head to the left and reached into his pocket. ‘Hello Alain?’

Back in the car park, Alain must have leaned his head next to Helen Davies’ mike because I heard every word.

‘The general hospital in Dinan have a Jane Dupont in critical care. She is in a coma. In French, my family name is used for unknown victims. Like Jane Doe. The nurse on the ward only talked to me because I said I was acting for someone from England. She found it funny. It must be Keira.’

‘Thank you,’ said Conrad. He turned to face Helen. ‘Captain Robson has given you her answer. Produce Keira or we walk.’

‘Fine. I’ll be a few minutes.’

‘We’ll be here.’

She vanished, and I shivered. ‘Can’t we wait in the car?’

‘You can. I’d better not.’

I stepped close to a big evergreen bush to get out of the wind and rain. Conrad lit another cigarette and stood his ground.

Over the earpiece, Helen Davies said, ‘Should we get ready to go to the hospital?’

‘Not yet,’ I whispered.

‘Is it as scary out there as it seems from here?’

‘Yes. Hang on, here they are.’

We didn’t get two Keiras, we got one Keira and … a Mina Desai. Now that was very, very creepy. It was a perfect likeness, too, right down to the birthmark that only Conrad has seen but I’ve heard about. He shook his head, more in sorrow than anger. I think.

Helen/Mina was close to the menhir, a rather dazed Keira was in front of her, not far from Conrad.

‘Keira?’ he said. ‘Can you hear me?’

This Keira was more like it. Leaner and scrawnier and with the pinched face. She still had perky tits, though. Damn her. She looked at him in awe, like I’ve never looked at anyone since me twelfth birthday.

‘Yes, Dragonslayer, I can hear you. Helen says you will rescue me.’

His lip twitched. ‘Have you found Adaryn ap Owain?’

‘Found her. Seen her play the harp and sing. Bit too lush for my tastes.’ She spoke breathlessly, even though she wasn’t breathing. Her eyes never left his.

His lip twitched. ‘Spill the beans, Keira.’

She reached out a hand and snatched it back. ‘You’ve met Mia, yes? What did she tell you?’

I decided that this twosome needed breaking up. ‘Don’t worry, Mia was very loyal to you. Wouldn’t give anything away about your illegal activities or the concert.’

‘She’s a good kid,’ said Keira. She put her hand to her own face and her image shimmered, blinking out for a second.

‘I told you not to touch yourself,’ said Helen when Keira had stabilised.

She turned around and frowned. ‘Who’s that image, my lady?’ she said.

Helen pointed to Conrad. ‘His fiancée. It was the best I could do. If he’s got the hots for anyone else, it’s well hidden.’

‘That’s Mina?’ said Keira. ‘Oh.’ She turned back to Conrad, whose face had gone beyond granite. Cast iron, maybe?

When Keira started her story, she changed her tone. Almost professional. ‘Adaryn ap Owain has a racket going. She appears in the encore of a local group of musicians, and she uses her Bardic skills. Makes it quite obvious to any Mage in the audience. At the end of the gig, the lead singer thanks her and says that people can buy tickets to Mademoiselle Arnaude’s private concerts. Arnaude means powerful eagle, by the way. I bought a ticket for Tuesday night. Her bodyguards attacked me, chased me across the fields and tried to kill me. They did kill me. The Great Helen saved me. That’s it.’

‘Thank you,’ said Conrad. ‘That’s excellent. We’re going to need all the details, obviously.’

‘What time is it?’ said Keira.

‘Twenty-one fifteen. Quarter past nine.’

‘The band – the mundane band – are playing at the Salle Armorique in Dol tonight. Adaryn will be on stage about half past eleven. The band are called …’

As you’ve discovered, I don’t speak French. I speak even less Breton.

Alain’s murmured in our ears. ‘It means The Minstrels from the End of the Earth. Finisterre. They are awful.’

Conrad pulled his lip. ‘Adaryn’s harp. Was it on stage throughout?’

Keira tried to shake her head and flickered out of focus. ‘No. They wheeled it on between the end of the set and the encore.’

‘Describe the attackers, please.’

‘Please? Why so formal.’

‘Because you’ve earned it,’ he said. ‘It’s a step up from brutal. The attackers?’

‘Two men, two women. I got the impression there were more inside. One of the men was mundane. None of the Mages were particularly powerful, but I haven’t been able to replace my Ancile. They were armed with handguns and I knew I was outnumbered. Funnily enough, it was the mundane one who gave me the coup de grace. Anything else?’

‘Where was the private concert?’

‘A big manor house in the middle of nowhere off a side road between La Haye and Pont Galou. Know them?’

‘I know where they are.’ Of course he did. ‘Did it look like their house? A rental?’

‘It had Wards and Alarms. They were deactivated, but permanent. It’s definitely a base, but whether they live there, I couldn’t tell you.’

‘Vic? Anything?’

‘Why you?’ I asked. ‘Why did they suddenly attack you?’

‘I’m good at insults,’ said Keira. I heard them shout when I got out of my car. “C’est le Rosbif.” Just before I died, my last thought was why not “La” Rosbif?’

Helen Davies spoke up. ‘Ask if they attacked straight away.’ I did.

‘No. They stood waiting until I ran. There was a big gate behind me that had already closed, or I’d have tried to drive away. The one thing I can think is that they told me the wrong time when they sold me the ticket. Half past six is a bit early. I think they wanted to check out le Rosbif and as soon as I ran, they attacked. Perhaps if I’d held my nerve, like you, Dragonslayer, I could have got away with it.’

Conrad grunted, ignoring the praise. ‘If this was on private land, how come you’re in Dinan hospital?’

Keira looked nonplussed. Helen T supplied the answer. ‘They took her phone and bag, then dumped her on the main road. I had to do flying saucer illusions to get someone to take notice and “find” her.’

Conrad nodded. ‘Are we done?’

‘Yes,’ I said. Helen Davies agreed.

‘Then we’ll be back before dawn.’

‘Hey! What if you’re dead! What about me?’

‘Don’t worry. Alain will call Madame Ménard and Mia. Between them, they can manage it. I should point out, I’m not planning on dying.’

‘Who’s Alain, and why won’t he be dead?’

‘He’s your ticket to life, Keira. Now, if you’ll excuse us, we have a fugitive to apprehend.’ He bowed. ‘My lady, it’s been an honour.’

Keira’s mouth moved, as if she were trying to bite her lip. ‘Take care, please, Dragonslayer.’

He nodded and took a step back, glancing at me.

‘My lady, Ms Faulkner,’ I said. Probably a bit loudly. I’m happy walking in Conrad’s shadow, but I don’t like being completely ignored.

Helen T nodded her head. Keira said, ‘Yeah. Thanks.’ We both turned and left.

When we got to the car, I let out a long whistle. ‘Flipping heck, Uncle C. That was a facer and no mistake.’

‘Sounded like it.’ Oops. That was Helen Davies. I’d forgotten we were still connected.

‘Pour us both a coffee,’ said Conrad. ‘Won’t be long.’

We both ended our calls and got in. ‘Are we gonna talk about the whole Mina thing?’ I asked. ‘Just so I know.’

His face relaxed into a grin. ‘Of course you can tell her. But tell her that I said she’s much sexier in the flesh.’

12 — Eagle’s Nest

Helen Davies had not only poured the coffee, she’d run the engine to get the car warmed up. It was only when I got inside that I realised how cold and stiff I’d been. Thanks to the expensive waterproof, at least I was dry above the thighs.

‘You want me to call Madame Ménard now?’ said Alain. ‘Before she goes to bed?’

‘No,’ said Conrad. ‘I want Vic to call Mia and tell her to call her grandmother. Give them the headlines but don’t mention the hospital or Helen of Troy. If they ask point blank, tell them that the hospital is in Rennes and that the guiding Spirit is Asterix the Gaul. No, I want Alain to call Morane and pump her for information on this Salle Armorique place. Go and do it in the other car if you want privacy.’

‘Of course,’ said Alain. ‘What do you want to know?’

‘Fundamentally, I want to know if there’s a big car park or if it’s in the old town.’

‘OK. Why? Just so I know what we’re really looking for.’

It was a fair question. Conrad thought carefully before answering. ‘That harp of Adaryn’s weighs a ton. If the hall is in the old town, they won’t turn up until just before they need to. If it has a car park, the harp will be waiting outside in a van. And so will Adaryn.’

He passed Alain the keys, and Alain got out. When the door was closed, Conrad closed his eyes and massaged the bridge of his nose. I sipped my coffee. I was going to need a pee very soon.

His eyes snapped open and he peered through the window. Alain was in full flow, gesturing and smiling under the courtesy light of the rental car. ‘Vic, make that call to Mia. Helen, let’s get going. Turn right out of the car park and then left at the first roundabout.’

She started the engine and said, ‘What’s the rush?’

‘Timing. I think they’re still at the house.’

I gritted my teeth. ‘Conrad, I haven’t been to the loo for three hours. I can’t go into an operation like this.’

‘Me neither,’ added Helen. She flashed me a smile of thanks.

‘There’s a hostel by the entrance.’

Normally he’s very sensitive to comfort breaks. For some reason, this was really eating at him. He peed behind a tree. Typical man. I had to use magick to jump the queue, and I was first back. Naturally, he was standing in the rain, smoking.

‘What’s up, Conrad? You’re not normally this rattled.’

‘Lack of intelligence, Vicky. It has to be now, and it has to work first time.’

‘Why can’t we wait?’

He glanced over my shoulder and must have seen Helen coming. ‘Keira has to be woken up tonight. Word will get round. We’re in enemy territory, here. Too many lives at risk. Even Morane could be in danger.’

I had to repeat myself three times before I was sure that Mia had understood me. By then, we were deep in the countryside, and Alain had confirmed that the Salle Armorique was in an alley opposite the cathedral.

‘Slow right down,’ said Conrad. He had a map open on his lap. ‘Vic, start feeling for Wards. I can see two likely turnoffs ahead.’

We took the first turnoff, to the right, and passed a few small houses with lights showing from the windows. Then the lane turned into a track. ‘Do I keep going?’ said Helen.

By way of an answer, Conrad reached round to the luggage section at the back of the Range Rover and pulled out his new sword. He laid it, still in its scabbard, on his lap and took out his gun as well. ‘Yes.’

Helen drove carefully down the track as it curved then forked, with a farm track to the left and a set of gates with big stone pillars to the right. I could feel the magick. ‘Here we are.’

‘Helen, back up out of sight of the gates and turn off the engine. Wait here while Vic and I take a look.’

I would have complained if I were Helen. She’s not much of a Mage, but with her new Badge of Office, she’s got a lot of Artefact support. Maybe it’s the police training, but all she said was, ‘Yes, sir.’ I opened the door and got out into the rain. Again.

Conrad was already standing by the gates. ‘What do you reckon to the magick?’ he asked.

We’ve been here before. Lots of times now – a stone wall with Wards and gates that are sealed and Alarmed. Except where was the wall?

‘I don’t think the wall is enchanted,’ I said. ‘If it is, I can’t feel it.’

‘What wall? There’s only a fence. A strong one with barbed wire, but still a fence.’

There was a wall, but he was right: it was only decorative and ran about five metres on either side of the gates. I couldn’t see any further because there were trees in the way and it was dark.

‘Let’s have a look at the fence,’ he said. He set off up the farm track, then cut right over a ploughed field. Ugh. It was like walking through a mixture of Plasticine and manure. Thankfully there was a six foot strip of firm grass next to the fence.

‘How long to cut through this with magick?’ he asked.

‘Half an hour. It may have mundane security on it, too. And are you gonna drive over that?’

‘No. Helen has her Police Advanced Pursuit certificate. She can drive. I … Here they come.’

Two vehicles were coming through the parkland and over the slight rise that must be concealing the house from the road.

‘Quick. Let’s squeeze through the trees.’

Easier said than done. Conrad used his long legs to get over and around things, while I had to try to squeeze through. At least we were out of sight of the vehicles once the wall shielded us. There was a twist in their path just before the gates, and Conrad used that fraction of a second to run across the road. I was just emerging from the trees when the electric motors started to drag the gates apart. I didn’t dare shout anything. What the hell was his plan?

I got an inkling when I heard Helen start the Range Rover’s engine. If she had any sense, she’d get out of the car and leave it as an obstacle. A long, low black limousine glided out of the gates. I had no idea who or how many people were in it. The second vehicle was a grey Transit that accelerated to get through before the gates started to close. At that moment Helen switched on every light her car possessed.

It blinded me, and must have given the limo driver a heart attack. He/she slammed on the brakes and skidded in the rain. The van driver hadn’t been blinded, but they missed their brake and slammed into the limo. I raced right to get my back to Helen’s floodlights and was in position when they started to pile out.

The biggest guy got out of my side – the passenger side – and a woman in casual clothes from the rear. Two more figures got out of Conrad’s side, and there were two in the van as well. Six against three if Helen joined us. One of the women on the far side was wearing a fur coat, but she had long blonde hair, so she couldn’t be Adaryn.

Conrad put his French to good use, shouting at them to stand still or something. They took this as a cue to shoot at us. And the blonde woman started to sing. So she was Adaryn.

I advanced at a steady pace as four bullets bounced off my Ancile. Why hadn’t Conrad shot someone himself? He’d given the bastards a fair warning. Over the singing, I heard a woman’s scream and the singing doubled in volume. The guy who’d just shot at me dropped his gun and took out a mace. A very old mace with steel flanges like petals on the heavy end. If he’d hit Keira with that, I’m surprised she had any brain left. It started to glow with magick. Shit.

The other two on my side drew knives. It was time to fight back before I got my face rearranged. I had no idea what the magick was in the mace, so I started with the woman to his left, the other one who’d had a gun. I drew power and span round like a baseball pitcher. At the right moment, I loosed a scythe of compressed air at her legs.

I heard the crack of bones, and she flipped over like she’d been hit by a car. At that point the singing stopped and Adaryn shouted, ‘Run for the chateau!’

The other guy, the one with the knife, turned and legged it straight away. He knew he was next. The guy with the mace clearly knew something his friend didn’t, because he was coming right at me.

I feinted to the right and dodged to the left, and all that mud on me shoe skidded on the road. I did the splits and the mace whistled right past me. Owwwww. My groin muscles nearly separated, and I had to roll on my back to ease the pain. I tried a blast at the guy’s mace arm. Nothing doing. He had no magick, but the mace did. He raised it for the killing blow, then collapsed forward when Conrad stuck him in the arse with his sword.

You’d think he’d been castrated, so loud was the screaming. He’d already dropped the mace, and Conrad kicked it away. He put his boot on the guy’s hand and threatened to Taser him. What? He stopped screaming after that.

Conrad held out his left hand, keeping his sword pointed down in his right. I let him pull me to my feet very carefully. Ow that hurt. I saw Helen moving in the glare of light, and she brought a woman round the front of the limo, already restrained, despite the blood running down a deep cut in her arm.

‘Do this one next,’ said Conrad. The bloke started to chunter until Conrad pressed his boot down again. With deft, experienced fingers, Helen dragged his arms behind his back and put the restraints on. I left them to it and went to the woman with two broken legs. She was in a bad way, alright.

I knelt down and put my arm on her shoulder. ‘Hey, can you understand me? It’s OK.’

‘The pain! My legs!’

She only wore a light coat, and it was already soaked. What the hell was I gonna do?

‘Sit her up against the car,’ said Conrad. ‘There’s nothing else we can do at the moment.’

She moaned when I helped her sit up, then her eyes sort of glazed over. She needed help, something that wouldn’t be coming any time soon after Conrad took their phones and the car keys. He squatted in front of her. ‘The sooner this is over, the sooner I’ll call an ambulance. Who is in the house?’

She pointed to the mace guy. ‘Arthur’s father and grandmother. She is in charge. She is very powerful, especially with Arnaude singing.’ She looked down at her legs and groaned again.

‘What about the mace?’ he said to me.

I patted the woman on the shoulder and turned my back on her. Well, she had just tried to shoot me. I walked over to the mace and scanned it, then picked it up. It was old, very old, and was designed to be used by Mage or mundane fighters. With an influx of Lux, the mace became both Ancile and a tool for slicing through magickal defences. Nifty. I weighed it in my hand. I could definitely use that.

Helen had finished and stood just behind the woman with the bleeding arm.

‘Let’s go,’ said Conrad. ‘Helen, you escort our prisoner. Vicky, you go right, I’ll go left. Quick as we can.’

‘What’s your name?’ said Helen.

‘Eloise,’ said the prisoner.

We moved at a fast walk, and you could see that this wasn’t the first time that Helen had frogmarched someone. Thank goodness Eloise was wearing flat shoes. ‘What happened on your side?’ I called across to Conrad.

‘As soon as Immi – sorry, Adaryn – started singing, they came at me. Same as on your side. Luckily for me, the mace was on your side. As soon as I disarmed this one, they legged it.’

‘You have torn my arm,’ said the prisoner. ‘Let go of me! Aargh.’

‘Less of your lip, girl,’ said Helen. ‘If you bleed on me, I’ll be sending you the bill.’

In case you need a reminder, Conrad knew Adaryn ap Owain, aka Mademoiselle Arnaude, when she was just Imogen Jones, a girl at school. And yes, he did ask her out. She said no. Perhaps if she’d said yes, history would have been different. That’s why he calls her Immi.

‘And why did you threaten to Taser that bloke?’ I asked.

‘Pardon?’

‘Arthur? You said you were gonna Taser him.’

Conrad laughed. ‘No I didn’t. I said taisez-vous. Means shut up. Here we go.’

The chateau came into view, and I would have said that it was a medium sized mansion, not a chateau. No turrets or battlements, see? Or moat. Mind you, it was raining enough not to need a moat. The reception committee was waiting out front.

You could see who was in charge straight away. A woman of Mme Ménard’s age was in the middle. Where Avril Ménard prefers formal chic, this one had gone full Druid, robes and all. And staff. Six feet of ancient magickal wood was held in a tight grip and without thinking, I sent a pulse of Lux into the mace. It seemed to get even heavier, and I caught a whiff of something smoky. That was strange, but not as strange as seeing Adaryn hide behind the Druid matriarch.

To the woman’s right was her son, Arthur’s father. He had a sword that looked like the twin of the mace: another Mage/mundane weapon. The two men who’d run from the ambush were there, too, along with another two women, one of them possibly the leader’s daughter. She stood at grandmother’s left hand, and held the third weapon, a flail. I think. A spiked ball on a chain at the end of a stick, and she looked as if she knew how to use it.

We stopped about fifteen metres away from them, and the matriarch’s eyes were drawn to the mace in my hand. ‘Where is my grandson?’ she said.

‘Ask your Bard,’ said Conrad, pointing to Adaryn with his sword.

‘Arnaude ran away!’ shouted our prisoner. ‘She ran away and left Arthur to die. They all did.’

The matriarch lifted her staff and magick pulsed.

‘He’s alive,’ said Conrad. ‘Wounded but alive. Eloise, tell them what happened.’

There was rapid fire French. The matriarch asked a question that included Arthur, and Eloise answered. When she asked another question, Conrad said, ‘Enough!’ Helen reinforced the point with a tug on the restraints.

‘Who speaks the best magickal English?’ said Conrad.

‘I do,’ said the Mage with the flail.

‘Good. Just for the record, I am Conrad Clarke, this is Victoria Robson and Helen Davies has your friend.’ He paused.

The matriarch lowered her staff and dialled down the magick. ‘This is Chateau Tonguey – T-A-N-G-I. The traditional spelling of Brittany.’

Fair enough. Chateau Tangi it is.

‘This is my son, Armel Tangi and my daughter, Maëlys Tangi. The others are members of our Druidic Circle. Do you want to see their ID?’ The smile on her lips said she had all the time in the world for this; the twitch in Armel’s weapon hand said that he’d rather be looking for his son.

‘They have no authority here,’ said Adaryn. ‘He didn’t use his title, did he?’

‘You are the Dragonslayer, non?’ said Mme Tangi.

‘Also Lord Guardian of the North. Elodie Guerin knows we’re here. She told me to get on with it.’ He lifted his gun hand, and dangled the Hammer by the trigger guard. ‘Mademoiselle Maëlys? Tell your mother what a Disruptor Round is. I didn’t use them at the gate because I want no deaths.’

He does love a bit of theatre, does Conrad. He got down on one knee, laid down the sword, and took a proper, two handed grip on the gun, resting his left arm on his knee.

Maëlys whispered in her mother’s ear, and she flinched. The gun was now pointing right at Mme Tangi.

‘I am too old to stand in the rain,’ she said. ‘I would ask you in, where the fire is warm, but Arthur is badly injured.’

‘No he isn’t,’ said Conrad, ‘but the woman is. How about this.’ He used his head to point to the two men on our left, one mundane, one Mage. ‘You two take the Mercedes and get them to hospital. Call it a gesture of peace. They must go to a hospital for broken legs.’

One of the other women burst out. ‘Rennes.’

‘Oui,’ said Mme Tangi. ‘Go.’

‘What about me!’ said Eloise.

‘You need a neurosurgeon,’ said Conrad. ‘They don’t work weekends. One of the others can give you a dressing in a minute.’

The two men moved forwards, and Helen chucked some keys on the ground. They picked them up and ran off, giving us a wide berth.

‘What now?’ said Mme Tangi. Her shoulders had visibly relaxed once the Druids were off on their mission. ‘I cannot offer you hospitality. Not after this.’

‘We don’t want it,’ said Conrad. ‘Your family and Adaryn only. The others go somewhere else. And Armel lays down his weapon. He will be our hostage. We will offer no violence against your family except in self-defence, as we did before.’

Adaryn heard your family and knew which way the wind was blowing. ‘You can’t trust him!’ she said. ‘He lies and lies.’

‘I give you my word,’ said Conrad. He lifted his right hand and showed Odin’s ring.

‘It is done,’ said Mme Tangi. ‘Armel, put down the sword and go to them.’

Adaryn grabbed the matriarch’s arm, and then let go as if she’d had an electric shock. The fear was growing in her eyes. Good.

‘My son will recover fully?’ said Armel.

‘He will,’ said Conrad.

Armel was tall and beefy and definitely knew how to use that sword. He laid it carefully down and walked towards us with his hands raised.

‘Off you go, Eloise,’ said Helen, giving her a nudge in the back. One of the men rushed to help her, and all the others followed, leaving Team Conrad and the Tangis alone. Plus Adaryn, who looked very alone.

Without a word, Mme Armel walked into the house, followed by Maëlys and Adaryn. ‘After you,’ said Helen to Armel. And she really did have a Taser. They walked forwards, and I heard a cough.

I turned to Conrad. ‘Help me up, Vic. This posture does my leg no good.’

‘Come here, you great lump.’ I hauled him up and he did his little dance where he shakes his leg and hops around. I picked up his sword and dropped it straight away. ‘Did that thing just growl at me? You have a dog sword?’

‘Wolf. It’s called Great Fang and it protects my new pack of Mannwolves. Amongst other things.’ He stooped, somehow, and retrieved it. ‘Come on, we don’t want to miss the party.’

I hurried after his great legs. ‘You have a sword called Great Fang? You get worse, Uncle Conrad, you really do.’

13 — It’s always Unlucky for Someone

Behind the opulent front doors was a gobsmacking great hall.

‘Wow,’ I said.

‘You’re not wrong,’ said Helen.

‘Too Baroque for me,’ said Conrad. ‘Never been keen on pink marble in private houses.’

‘Not a lot of marble in Swansea,’ said Helen.

‘Nor Heaton,’ I added.

There was a lot, mind you. Columns and panels and staircases, all covered in it. And frescoes on the ceiling. What it had above all was warmth. Physical warmth. As one, we gravitated to the fireplace and its roaring fire. You could actually have a stand-up barbecue in that fireplace.

I took a proper look round, for magick and other threats. There was definitely magick in the little dais below the gallery, and I’m guessing that’s where Adaryn did her stuff at private parties. No, that’s not being fair to her. She may be 100% a poisonous worm, but she’s also a premier Bard. She can use her voice and her harp to amplify all sorts of magick. Want a straighter blade on your sword? Ask Adaryn to warble in the corner of your smithy. Want a more powerful Dæmon in your Summoning circle? Ask Adaryn to sing its name.

Okay, I can’t see her in a smithy, and now that we were inside, I took a good look at the changes she’d made in her appearance.

She has naturally dark, naturally wavy hair that goes well with her wide eyes. The (expensive) blonde dye job made her face look pinched, and she’d lost a fair bit of weight off her curves, as if she were going for the elfin look and failing. She’d opened the fur coat to reveal a burgundy velvet gown that finished just above her ankles. I’m guessing she planned to change out of her trainers at the Salle Armorique.

Mme Tangi had taken a hard chair and rested the staff between her knees. The rest of us stood, with two Tangis and Adaryn to the left of the fireplace and Team Conrad plus Armel to the right. Mme Tangi spoke first.

‘You want Arnaude, yes?’ she said.

‘Yes. Nothing else. Just her and we’ll leave you alone.’

‘There is just one problem, monsieur. She owes us a great deal of treasure, both Lux and Euros. We have invested a lot in her. We would want compensation for our loss.’

‘What about the project?’ said Adaryn, wildness in her eyes and desperation in her voice. ‘You can’t sell me like a slave after all we’ve started to build here. You can’t trust him. He’s just a tool of the old enemy. He sacrificed to Lord of the Gallows, and used Odin to slay one of our Dragons.’

Since we’d got to the fireplace, my eyes had never left Adaryn’s face. Not once. And not once had she looked at me. When Conrad said nothing, I knew he was waiting for me, and I was ready.

I lifted the mace and pointed it at her. ‘What’s a cow?’

Maëlys gave me a crafty smile. ‘A cow? Une vache.’

I kept the mace steady, anger burning in my biceps. ‘That woman is a cheap, cowardly cow. A great big vache. She ran off and left the other Druids in Wales. She left Rhein to die, and no, Conrad earned the title of Dragonslayer all on his own. She left your grandson to die, Madame Tangi. Ran away and left him to die. Be thankful for our mercy.’

I lowered the mace.

‘How much?’ said Conrad. ‘Never mind. Whatever it is, I suggest that Adaryn’s harp and your son’s life will clear the debt.’

Armel Tangi looked relaxed. He glanced at his mother and raised his eyebrows and gave the faintest of shrugs. He was a good boy.

Adaryn took a step to her right, away from Mme Tangi and Maëlys. ‘Not the harp. That’s priceless. I’ll gift it to you and lease it back. Together, we’re worth far, far more.’

She was staring at Mme Tangi as she spoke, and didn’t notice that Conrad had given a hand signal. Helen moved away from Armel, taking a couple of steps into the room. I stepped right, and lifted the mace on to my shoulder.

Mme Tangi returned Adaryn’s glare. ‘My son is worth more than all the harps in the world. He is worth infinitely more than you.’ She turned away. ‘We have a deal, monsieur.’

Adaryn lifted her dress and sprinted, right into the path of Helen Davies. There was a loud pop, and Adaryn ap Owain collapsed on to the stone flags, rigid from the electric shock. That’ll teach her to leave off her Artefacts to wear a low-cut dress.

We did have one problem: over here in France, we couldn’t use the power of Nimue to arrest Adaryn and suppress her magick. Conrad stayed near Armel and the fireplace, just in case, and I moved to Adaryn. When I got close, Mme Tangi had something to say.

‘Be careful with the fur coat. It’s mine.’ It’s a good job for Adaryn that she didn’t hear that. It’s one thing to be worth less than a mother’s only son; it’s quite another to be worth less than her fur coat.

I covered Adaryn and let Helen detach the Taser, slip the coat off and check her pulse. Satisfied, she put the restraints on, then used her Badge of Office to scan Adaryn for Artefacts. She removed a loose-fitting ring and chucked it across the floor to Mme Tangi. Maëlys put down her flail and picked up the ring.

My best friend is training to use choral magick – only Druids call them Bards. Desi is nowhere near Adaryn’s league, but I’ve picked up some useful tips. ‘Conrad, a gag would be a really good idea.’

‘Cut one off her dress.’

Helen had a pocket knife and made short work of the hem. Adaryn was shaky, but coming round. It would need both of us to hold her upright. I looked at Conrad, and he nodded then shouted over to the gallery. ‘Go and get Monsieur Tangi a coat. We’re taking him to the gates and then releasing him. Alone.’

‘What about the massed arm?’ said Madame. Eh?

‘The mace?’ said Conrad. ‘It can be a lesson for Arthur. He did try to kill my partner. Unprovoked.’ One of the women appeared with a big coat and stood by the doors. ‘Leave it there, thank you.’

He got out his phone and placed a call while we got Adaryn to her feet. ‘Alain? Success. Get the tickets and go to the rendezvous point. Ten minutes.’ He turned back to Madame and bowed. ‘To me, this is done. Fini. I will say nothing to Elodie Guerin. Goodbye.’

Mme Tangi inclined her head. ‘Goodbye, Dragonslayer.’

Conrad ushered Armel Tangi to the door and used his foot to check the pockets of the coat on the floor before allowing Armel to pick it up. Armel brushed the dust off first and put it on. He didn’t look back once, but I did. His mother was staring at her son, worry clearly visible, but his sister was staring at Adaryn with a smile on her face. Good.

We left the warmth of the hall and found that the rain and wind were worse, if anything. I am so gonna need a bath, but when? Conrad clearly had a plan for smuggling a Druid out of the country, but I didn’t ask.

‘Monsieur, help with Arnaude. Vicky, take the lead. Fast as we can, everyone.’

When I let go of Adaryn’s arm, she struggled and moaned and tried to push Helen over. Fat chance. Helen squeezed a painful nerve, and Adaryn squealed behind the gag. Armel took the other arm, carefully, and we set off.

I toyed with getting my torch out, but the path was light enough to follow. I glanced behind, and Conrad was walking backwards at the rear. I opened my Sight and felt no one near. It didn’t take long to get to the bashed van, and when Adaryn realised she was near her harp for the last time, she had another futile go at escaping. At least she was soaked through now, and that would soon take the fight out of her.

‘Watch her,’ said Helen, ‘and I’ll check the car. Just in case.’

‘Turn it round as well,’ added Conrad.

We backed away from the gates to the shelter of the wall, and Helen climbed in to the Range Rover. Some of the tension left me when the engine started first time, and she soon had it facing the way we came.

‘Monsieur, face the wall, hands on your head,’ said Conrad. ‘I won’t make you lie down, but…’

‘I understand,’ replied Armel.

He did what he was told, and Conrad told me to get in first. He half pushed, half hoisted Adaryn into the middle, almost throwing her into the car. I grabbed her and hauled her upright, and Helen put her foot down as soon as Conrad had closed his door.

‘Are we going to the station?’ asked Helen. ‘Or straight to Calais and the Eurostar?’

Calais would be safer, I reckoned.

‘Neither,’ said Conrad. ‘Left at the end of the track.’

We got off the side road on to the country lane, and Helen went even faster.

‘Left at the main road,’ said Conrad. Hang on, that was heading away into nowhere. Even I knew that. Dol-de-Bretagne, the TGV station, the motorway and all points of civilisation were to the right. As soon as Helen had made the turn, he said, ‘Fast as you can for one mile. Get ready to turn right, signposted La Durantais. Vicky, text Mia and tell her to get moving. Urgently.’

He moved his sword, and brought the edge up to Adaryn’ neck while I got my phone out. I opted for the simplest message: Go now. Urgent.

With the swaying of the car, it took me two goes, and I only hit Send just before Helen nearly put us into a ditch turning right.

‘Half a mile on the left. You’ll know it when you get there.’

Conrad pushed Adaryn right on to me so that he could sheathe his sword, then put his arm through hers, ready to pull her out. What the hell was going on? Had he done a trade of some sort? Were the Sûreté de magie waiting for us in a random field? I only caught a glimpse of the sign as Helen swung through a wide gateway and bounced on to a grass field. And then it all made sense: in front of us, all lit up, was Conrad’s helicopter, the Smurf.

‘You crafty bugger,’ I said. ‘So that’s what you were doing yesterday: moving the Smurf.’

‘And training Alain to start her up. You get out first and open my door.’

Helen stopped a good way from the helicopter, and I got out. The grass was firm, but slippery, and I got round as quickly as I could. The Smurf’s lights dimmed for a second, and the engines started to whine. I pulled the door open, and Conrad slid out, using brute strength to drag Adaryn like a sack of spuds. Helen joined us, and he handed her over just as the whine went up a notch in pitch and volume. Then a bass note got added, and the rotors started to move slowly. Conrad raised his voice.

‘Alain is staying here to sort everything out and get your stuff. We’ll be in London in less than an hour. I’ll finish the checks and come back to help you get her inside.’

Alain climbed out of the cockpit, and Conrad took his place. Alain jogged over and gave us a big grin.

‘You’re very naughty,’ I told him. ‘Isn’t this a bit OTT?’

‘Conrad says that every Druid in Brittany will be looking for us. It is the only safe way. For all of us.’

I felt rather than heard my phone ringing. It was Mia. This could be important, and I showed the screen to Helen before stepping back a bit, away from the noise. It made no difference, and I shoved my finger in my other ear. ‘Speak up, Mia.’

‘Grand-maman asks what sorcellerie we need.’

There was no point lying now. ‘Tell her that the spirit is Helen of Troy.’

‘Common?’

Oh, right. Comment? ‘Helen of Troy!’

‘Merde!’ I understood that. ‘A moment.’

At that point, I’d realised that I’d closed my eyes to concentrate on the sound. I opened them just as Adaryn headbutted Helen Davies full on the nose and punched her in the stomach.

I dropped my phone and ran round the car. How the hell had she escaped? I got the answer when I smelled burning plastic and saw the raw burns on her wrists. She’d actually used magick to set the restraints on fire.

Alain did the only sensible thing and ran to the Smurf, where Conrad was staring at the instruments, totally oblivious. Adaryn wrenched out the gag and spat.

‘I am not going to die in that cesspit!’ she screamed before jumping in the car. I got out the mace and tried to work out how to stop a Range Rover with it.

I didn’t need to try, because the keys were in Helen’s pocket, not the ignition, and I was standing over Helen to protect her. Adaryn got out and started to sing, then she looked over my shoulder and her voice dried up. That would be Conrad, then, but I was in the way.

With no warning, Adaryn charged me, screaming magick and growing talons of fire from her fingers. I sent a pulse of Lux into the mace and swung it at her head. Thank the Goddess for those engines, because if I’d heard the sound her skull made when it popped open, I think I’d have thrown up on the spot and had nightmares.

I stood, staring at Imogen Jones, aka Adaryn ap Owain, aka Mlle Arnaude, aka Immi, while Helen got to her feet with Conrad’s assistance. The first thing she did was put her arm round me and whisper in my ear.

‘Suicide by cop. Not your fault. Nothing to do with you. Suicide.’

Yeah. I suppose it was, really. Even if she’d killed me by some miracle, Conrad would have put her down in a second. I don’t know whether to feel flattered that she chose to die at my hand rather than his.

Conrad eased the mace out of my hand and wiped it on the grass before tearing off more of Immi’s dress and wrapping it round the weapon. He chucked it in the back of the car and said to Helen, ‘I’m going to turn off the engines, but they need to warm up fully first. Get Vicky in the car and give her some coffee with lots of extra sugar. How’s the nose, by the way?’

Helen was feeling it gingerly and looking at the blood on her fingers. ‘Not broken, I don’t think, but it hurts like hell. Come on, Vicky. Let’s get you in the warm.’

Helen – and Alain – made me keep talking for some reason. Not that we had much to say. The coffee was nice, though. In a couple of minutes, it started to get quieter, then all I could hear was the rain on the car roof until Conrad knocked on my window. What?

Helen used the master control to lower the windows and passed him a coffee. He lit a cigarette, and Helen said, ‘Organised crime?’

‘Got to be,’ he replied.

‘Sorry?’ I asked.

‘Madame Tangi may well be an Archdruidess, but her family are also running an organised criminal network.’

‘I think Arthur was banging Adaryn as well,’ added Helen. ‘Why else would he try so hard to stop you at the gates?’

‘Could be,’ mused Conrad.

That was a horrible thought, and the shiver that followed it woke me up a bit. ‘Can’t you start those engines again, Conrad? Can’t we go home?’

He shook his head. ‘I’m not technically licensed for bad weather night flying. I could have gotten away with it in an emergency, but not now.’

‘What!’ said Helen. ‘You were gonna fly me without a licence?’

He shrugged. ‘A technicality, that’s all. I think we’d better rendezvous with the Ménards now.’

‘Me phone!’ I said. ‘They were on the phone when Immi went apeshit. I’d better call her.’

‘I’ll get your phone,’ said Alain. ‘And I’ll talk to Mia. I must call someone else, too.’

Conrad leaned right in to me. ‘Are you up to calling Mina? I’d do it myself, but there’s a loose end out here.’

‘What are you gonna do with her?’ I saw the look on his face and added, ‘You can tell me. I’m not gonna faint or nothing.’

By way of an answer, he went round and opened the back of the car. Yes, I’m afraid that Watch Captains do carry heavy duty body bags in the field.

‘We’ll take her in Alain’s car and leave her at the hospital. Elodie Guerin can sort out the paperwork. Let’s relocate to the menhir. We can sit there with the engines running and no one will complain.’

Alain passed me my phone and I dialled Mina before my courage ran out.

14 — French Left

There was one more surprise and one more confrontation before we left Dol-de-Bretagne. The surprise was waiting for us in the lane near the menhir – a young woman in a long padded jacket with the hood up.

‘Ooh, I wonder if that’s Morane,’ said Helen, peering through the rain. I’d been promoted to riding shotgun now that Conrad was with Alain. He was already out of the car and taking her hands in a very intimate gesture.

‘You know what, I’m so glad these seats aren’t cream,’ said Helen as she opened the door. ‘I don’t know which is worse, the mud or the blood.’

I reluctantly joined her outside, and added, ‘I’d like to say it gets easier, but it doesn’t. Not for me.’

‘I’m not sure I want it to get easier. Right, what have we got?’

It was Morane, and she lowered her hood to reveal a very intense face, long brown hair and bad skin with no makeup. It was the eyes that got you, big blue ones behind huge glasses. Conrad was not looking happy.

‘We need her, mon ami,’ said  Alain. ‘Her mother is a tea-druizze … a minor Mage. More than that, she is a big nurse at Dinan Hospital.’

‘She is not big,’ said Morane. Alain was right, she had a lovely voice that sounded like it came from someone older and taller. ‘She is a senior staff nurse. She will let you in to the hospital, but only if you tell me what you need her for.’

Conrad raised an eyebrow in my direction and I smiled at him. We were both thinking it: he only met her yesterday. How does he know about her mother already?

‘Let’s get in the Range Rover,’ said Alain.

I pointed at Conrad. ‘Fine, but you get in the back.’

We discovered that Morane was in a different order of Druids to the Tengis, so Conrad gave the signal to tell her a bit more, and then the Ménards arrived, and that’s what provoked the confrontation.

It happened outside, and it happened as soon as Mme Tengi’s name was mentioned. Avril Ménard went off on one with her daughter, then Alain joined in, then Morane, and the Anglophones stepped back until they’d slugged it out. When Mia Ménard had stomped off into the rain, and then stomped back again, and finally bowed her head in submission, Alain came over and whispered, ‘Mesdames Ménard and Tangi are old rivals. I think there will be a lot of shaking up in Breton magick after tonight. They are ready to go.’

After the drama of death, near-death and GBH, the next stage nearly brought on hysterical laughter. Are you a fan of logic puzzles? I’m not. See if you can work out how we got to Dinan.

- Morane had been dropped off by her mother, so we had three cars.

- The Ménards had to travel together and sit at least one foot apart to escort Helen of Troy, so neither of them could drive.

- I was too shattered to drive.

- The Ménards had to go with a Mage.

- I would not go in Alain’s car on account of the dead body in the boot.

- Alain would not let Morane go in his car for the same reason.

When we approached the menhir, Helen of Troy emerged in what I think may have been her original form, and by the Goddess, she was beautiful. Barely an adult, she had gorgeous golden skin, black hair and bright blue eyes. Her face was a perfect oval, and only her little snub nose stopped her being a checklist of ideal features, and that made her even more attractive. Her arms were slender and her hands curved protectively round a nine-month baby bump. That would be Keira in there, I’m guessing. She didn’t speak and didn’t even pretend to walk. She waited for the Ménards to flank her, then floated gracefully above the ground with pointed toes.

‘You’ll catch flies,’ I said to Morane.

‘Pardon?’

‘Close your mouth, hinny.’

She snapped it closed (she had very white, very even teeth), and after a tense drive, she directed us to the service entrance of the hospital. It was three o’clock on a Sunday morning, and I have never been in a city so dead. Not a soul about. No cars, nothing. Made our job easier. It looked lovely, especially the old town, but we passed that by and settled for the sodium lights of the hospital.

Morane’s mother was waiting, a thin coat over her uniform top. She was wearing jeans, so I’m guessing she wasn’t on duty. She spoke to her daughter for a couple of minutes, then waved us in (after getting the fly catching message). Alain kept watch on the vehicles.

We took the lift up one floor, and thankfully Keira had a private room. Just before we went in, I thought I saw a white shadow down the corridor. I opened my Sight, but got nothing, so I closed the door behind me and shut the blinds on the observation window.

Helen of Troy floated down to the floor and became less shimmery, more solid. ‘Pull back the sheets,’ she said.

Morane’s mother did the honours, and Helen T raised a graceful leg to climb on top of the comatose Keira. I gritted my teeth, ready for something gruesome. Some magickal procedures are very, very graphic. Think Alien. This was mercifully quick and only marginally gross. Before Helen could dismount, alarms were going off all over Keira’s monitors.

The senior staff nurse leapt into action, silencing noises and cancelling alarms. ‘It has worked!’ she said. ‘A miracle. See? There is activity all across the brain.’

‘Excuse me,’ said Helen. ‘I’ve got to demanifest now and get back to the menhir for a rest.’ She reached out delicate fingers and ran them along Conrad’s sleeve. ‘Until we meet again, Conrad.’

He didn’t flinch. ‘Thank you, my lady. Go well.’

She gave an enormous wink at Alain and patted Mia on the shoulder. And then she was gone.

‘You must go, too,’ said Morane’s mother. ‘The duty nurse will be here soon.’

We slipped out, shook hands and said goodbye in a cloud of Conrad and Alain’s illegal smoke outside the hospital boiler rooms; the boys had already deposited their package outside the mortuary. The Ménards left first, with a promise from Avril to let Keira convalesce at her house in Pont Menou. She looked really happy that we’d got her lodger/assistant back, and she also promised to keep her out of trouble. If she could.

Alain and Morane went together. She’d offered him a spare bed, and the poor lad did look rather green, which left us three, the King’s Watch.

‘Have we got to drive to Locquirec?’ I asked wearily.

‘No,’ said Conrad. ‘Alain’s got us a special rate on a three bed family room at the Auberge Centrale. Strictly cash to the night porter. You and I need to go see Keira in the morning, Vicky.’

‘Only after a big breakfast. Or two. Two breakfasts minimum.’

‘Done.’

By heaven, that bed felt good. And there was a proper bath. I didn’t even mind that I had to put on the same clothes after it. Other people might have minded the smell, but they were too polite to say.

And the rain had stopped, so it didn’t matter that I’d thrown my blood-stained waterproof in the garbage when we went for breakfast. I only had one breakfast in the end, but it was a big one. Conrad suggested that we take the scenic route to the hospital, and we wandered round soaking up the atmosphere for a bit before he asked me whether I wanted to fly home with him this afternoon.

‘I’m going to stay in Dinan,’ he explained. ‘Elodie Guerin is on her way, and there’s a lot to sort out. Alain will take me to the Smurf in Dol. Helen’s got to catch the ferry in the morning.’

‘I’ll go with Helen. If there’s a repeat of the last crossing, she might need help. And besides, I can score for another night in the Grand Hotel des Bains.’

His mouth twitched. ‘So it’s not my flying you’re worried about?’

‘No. If you say it’s good to fly, then I’m happy. Or at least not too unhappy.’

‘Fair enough.’

‘I’ve got to ask, Conrad. Would you have left Keira to die in that menhir if Helen of Troy hadn’t manifested her for questioning.’

He smiled and said, ‘Captain Robson, that is a serious allegation. Of course I wouldn’t have left her. And what about you? You made the same declaration.’

I laughed. ‘Shame on you, sir, for questioning my judgement.’ We locked eyes and stopped smiling. I don’t think that either of us knew the true answer. Good job we hadn’t had to find out.

Morane’s mother met us in reception. She was now on duty, and I peered at her ID badge. Guivarc’h, it said. So that made her daughter Morane Guivarc’h. Has a nice ring to it, in a French kind of way. She said that “The English Patient” was awake and had been pretending otherwise, especially when the Police Nationale stuck their heads in. That was one of the many things that Conrad had to sort out.

‘How did you know she was English?’ I asked.

Mme Guivarc’h was a typical senior nurse – very professional, with a big heart and a hard carapace. ‘I didn’t, and I don’t work critical care. She had no ID, nothing, when she was brought in, but one of the scientists, young Jean-Guy, thinks that he is Sherlock Holmes. Before the police took her clothes for evidence, he looked at them. He said that her running shoes were custom made in England and that her underwear was English.’ She paused to let us know what she thought of Jean-Guy looking through a comatose woman’s smalls. ‘He called her the English Patient, like the film, non?’ We went to the ward, and a white-coated figure disappeared out of the other end. ‘That’s him,’ she whispered.

‘Please,’ she said after talking to the duty nurse. ‘The patient is very tired, and can barely speak. The feeding tube, you know? I have told them that you are her cousin, Vicky. Please show your ID first. Au revoir.’

We thanked her, and Conrad took out a passport. He opened it to the bio page and gave it to me. It had my picture and Eleanor Weyland’s details. The bastard had even aged me three years, a point I made forcefully if quietly.

‘It matches the picture,’ he said.

‘I’ll so get you back for this,’ I hissed.

Keira did look ill, and her voice sounded terrible. She also looked whole. No matter how good the projection that Helen of Troy had made, the real, sick, Keira Faulkner looked much better than the image.

‘Thank you, Dragonslayer,’ she croaked. ‘And you, Watch Captain. Standing up to a Bard like that was a brave thing.’

‘I am in your debt,’ said Conrad. ‘It’s us who should thank you. I will keep my promise, but I could do more. I could make a statement to the Court now, and again in three years.’

‘Two and a half,’ said Keira. ‘What’s the snag?’ By the Lord, she sounded bad.

‘Shh,’ said Conrad. ‘Just nod. Elodie Guerin’s coming. She doesn’t care what you do, so long as you keep a low profile, so stick with Avril Ménard, OK?’ She nodded. ‘And you can’t keep this nom de guerre, is that absolutely clear? You are not any form of Mina Clarke.’

‘I’m sorry,’ she whispered.

‘Good. Here is your new cover name. Stick with it or the deal’s off.’

He passed her another of those new passports. She took it and peered at the name, then tried to laugh.

‘What’s up?’ I said.

She passed it to me. From now on, Keira Faulkner would have to call herself Elizabeth Oswaldtwistle

‘Hey, Conrad,’ I said. ‘No taking the piss out of Northern names, okay? Not funny.’

He kept his face straight. ‘I wanted to make it something that French people would remember.’

He took the passport back and said, ‘I’m giving this to the Police Nationale so they can clear up your mugging. See you in two and a half years, Lizzy. And thanks again.’

He shook her hand, and so did I.

‘Can you find your way back to the hotel?’ he asked. ‘I doubt they’ll let me out of the hospital for a while.’

‘Aye, course.’

‘See you at the Halloween party, then. Or the night before.’

We had a long hug.

‘Take care, Uncle Conrad.’

‘And you, Vic.’

I walked out of the hospital with a spring in my step, something I hadn’t expected. I reckon that old proverb needs updating: Revenge is a dish best served sprinkled with mace. We hadn’t heard the last of Helen of Troy and Keira – sorry, Liz – but we could forget about them for now.

Time to meet Helen Davies for that second breakfast, I reckon.

Keira

It took him until Tuesday to pluck up the courage to come into the room. By then, she could speak properly and eat solid food. And her magick had stabilised. Keira wasn’t exactly back to her old self, but she was on the road.

The shadow in the white coat had been lurking ever since Sunday, at least four times a day, casting glances while he pretended to talk to the nurses, and looking very worried when the police were escorted to her room for interviews on Monday.

Avril and Mia Ménard came on Tuesday morning, and he finally came in not long after they had gone. Avril had a new respect in her eyes, and had left with a promise to upgrade Keira’s room and status. Mia was agog with the news about those Tangi psychos, and all-in-all, things were looking up. Keira even kept her promise and forced Avril to stop calling her Mina. They settled on a very French Lizabet for her new name, and Keira heard Avril practising it while she put clean clothes in Keira’s hospital wardrobe.

It had been a mistake to call herself Mina, especially after seeing Lady Helen pull that stunt. By all Hell’s Dæmon’s, Mina Desai was tiny. Keira’s respect for Conrad Bloody Clarke had grown further, of course, but she had to focus on herself now. She could do this. She could make a good life here.

The white coat man came in at that point, with a portion of freshly squeezed orange, her favourite. ‘Excuse me, Elizabeth. Can I come in?’

‘Of course. Is that for me?’

He passed her the drink. ‘You are not too tired?’

‘No. Thank you.’

‘I would have brought flowers, but they are banned. I am Jean-Guy, the senior scientist in the laboratory.’

His English was flawless, and although he looked like he’d been cast from a mould stamped geek, he wasn’t that bad. No magick, though. ‘Aren’t you very young to be a senior scientist?’

‘Yes, but I am good. I do not run the laboratory, that is the manager, but I am still senior in science. Can I sit down?’ She pointed to the chair, and he sat on it, pulling it closer. ‘It was me who worked out you were English, did they tell you?’

They hadn’t, and he looked eager, so she let him tell the story. He had the grace to blush and apologise about the underwear, and for watching over her while she was unconscious. Aah. Bless him. Then he leaned forward. ‘You were abducted, were you not? By them? I saw them come back here. The golden one with the anti-gravity shoes. It’s okay, Elizabeth, you can tell me. I have always known we are not alone in the universe.’

Aliens? Poor lad. If only he knew the truth.

‘I wish I could tell you, Jean-Guy, but I think they wiped my memory. Did you see the tall English one on Sunday? The one with the limp?’ Jean-Guy nodded. ‘He was from the British Government. He said that they understood, and they’d support me.’

He took her hand impulsively, and his fingers were warm, comforting. ‘Please, Elizabeth, I would like to get to know the real you. The girl in the coma, it is a joke, non? The young man watches her and falls in love with a picture. Then you wake up and the young man does not like the real person. I want to get to know you.’ He released her fingers. ‘My little sister says there are no visitors from other planets, but she says there is magic. How stupid.’

‘You have a sister?’

‘Danielle. She is still at school. Would you like to see her picture?’

He was a bit too quick to take out his phone, and he noticed the look in her eyes. ‘I promise I have not taken pictures of you while you slept. That would be … horrible. Nothing.’

‘Show me Danielle.’

He swiped to his photos and let her check the recent ones. Nothing suspicious. Then he showed her a girl of no more than sixteen or seventeen, with a wide smile and happy eyes. And very good bone structure under the puppy fat. She might make an excellent candidate for Helen in a couple of years, once Keira had run a check on her magickal potential.

‘Yes, Jean-Guy, I would like to get to know you. The French police won’t let me leave the country for months. Perhaps years. It gets very lonely, carrying a secret like mine. Very lonely. And I’d like to get to know your family, too.’

This time, she took his hand, and he smiled.

‘Danielle would love to meet you,’ he said. ‘I have told her all about you, Elizabeth.’

She gave Jean-Guy’s hand a squeeze, and the smile of pure happiness spread over his face.

‘I look forward to it,’ said Keira.

Team Conrad’s Story continues in the Books of the King’s Watch, all available from Amazon.

Author’s Note

This novella was a detour from the main story, as told in the Books of the King’s Watch, and I hope you enjoyed it. Ever since the moment that Adaryn ran off, Conrad had known that there would be a reckoning. He just hadn’t expected it to be over so quickly, or that he would be so reliant on Keira Faulkner to get there.

As ever, thanks are due to the awesome Rachel Lawston for designing the cover and to Anne for reading the first draft. An additional note of thanks must also go to Ian Forsdike for casting his eye over the text with a view to tackling my many errors. Any that remain are my own, especially the deliberate ones.

Vicky did contemplate learning French when she got home, but decided against it. She has no immediate plans to return there, which is a shame, because Anne and I have spent many lovely holidays there.

Until the next time,

Mark Hayden.