Burn Mark (24 page)

The transformation occurred after Glory undid the wrapping. Lucas couldn’t do this himself; a fascination was brought to life only when looked at with fresh eyes. To all intents and purposes, the diamonds and gold were genuine. Unlike a glamour, the object had been physically changed, not just people’s perception of it. But it too was a short-term transformation, and needed to be kept close to its creator for the witchwork to hold.

Passing the fascination to Glory was the next challenge. That was the object of the waist-squeezing exercise. Glory orchestrated the final switch: using her long hair to disguise her hand movements, and her light fingers to draw up the false necklace from where she’d dropped it inside her bra. Meanwhile, Lucas helped shield her from view by pretending to fiddle with the catch. The first few times they tried the hand-over, they did it sternly and straight-faced; but as Lucas kept fumbling the pass, Glory got exasperated, then amused. When they graduated to the necklace-down-the-bra stage, they started to laugh – in guilty, embarrassed spurts that even Auntie Angel’s scolding couldn’t bring under control.

Glory was certainly acting more friendly towards Lucas, though he never felt she truly relaxed in his presence. He was reluctantly impressed by her sleight of hand. He remembered the caution for shoplifting recorded in her file. She’d probably been playing pickpockets ever since she was in nappies.

After the laboriousness of their rehearsals, the real thing seemed to be over in seconds. Trying to recall it was like watching a film-clip play at double-speed. Lucas was still getting used to the dark, sweet rush of fae, and still mistrusted it. But the exhilaration afterwards, as they bundled into the getaway car, was less complex. It was pure adrenalin.

Lucas tore up Blake’s glamour, Nate pulled off his bald spot and Glory her wig. They were all gasping and giggling. In the front seat, Nate whooped and punched the air. Patch was singing.

Glory turned to Lucas, hair spilling over her face, and dangled the diamonds in front of him. For the first time he really took in how beautiful they were: moonlight on ice. ‘Tell me that wasn’t fun.’ Her eyes were as bright as the glittering stones, her laughter teasing and triumphant. Lucas grinned back.

He told himself it was only a performance. A crime caper, like in the movies or a trashy detective novel. WICA had been forewarned of the escapade. He’d slipped away from the coven during a break in rehearsals, using an elusion to make his way to a public phone box. There was a special number to dial. Muttering down the line to the secret service operator, he’d felt as much as a phoney as the decoy necklace.

Twenty minutes after their getaway from the shop, Patch pulled into a deserted underground car park. He stayed to change the number plates and wipe the BMW clear of prints. The other three, still talking loudly and overexcitedly, headed for Cooper Street to show Auntie Angel their prize.

The gems were worth just over three thousand pounds, a tidy sum for three days’ graft, but hardly worth the risk involved. That wasn’t the point. The robbery had made the evening news and would be reported in all the papers tomorrow, adding to the frenzy about the spike in witchcrime. Nobody would miss the connection to the Starling Twins. And the Wednesday Coven would be as intrigued as everyone else.

Chapter 21

Cooper Street celebrated until the early hours of Saturday morning. Auntie Angel stayed up late too, pouring out bootlegged champagne along with tales of Starling triumph. ‘You’ve got thieving fingers, I’ll say that for you,’ Nate told Glory, patting them with drunken approval. She caught Harry’s eye and nearly laughed. For a moment there in the BMW, she’d almost forgotten what he was. Flushed with their success, the hauteur gone, blue eyes smiling, he’d seemed for a moment like a real person. From now on, maybe things would be easier between them.

Glory was only allowed a sip or two of champagne, thanks to Auntie Angel’s beady eye and the need to keep a clear head. But she was on a natural high. It almost didn’t matter that she hadn’t got to do any witchwork herself. Their escapade had all the colour and daring she could have wished for. This, she told herself, was how it was going to be once the Morgan brothers were bang to rights, Harry Whoever-He-Was had gone, and she was free to claim her inheritance. This was only the beginning.

The morning after, Glory decided to prolong the festive mood by buying everyone doughnuts for breakfast. Passing her dad’s room, she could hear the inevitable bleeps from his games console. He had been more rambling and distracted than usual at the party last night, and only stayed for a short while. She knew he was unhappy about her involvement in the heist. He wouldn’t even admit she looked pretty in the diamonds, however much Auntie Angel pestered him. Now he appeared to be the only other person awake. At half past eleven, the lounge was still full of prone bodies and bubbling snores.

The baker’s was a ten-minute walk away. Glory was just leaving the shop when a silver Mercedes drew up outside. Troy leaned out of the window. ‘Perfect timing – I was on my way for a visit. Hop in.’

He looked every inch the young entrepreneur in his sharp blue suit, laptop and leather briefcase on the seat behind him. Successful mobsters needed to be good businessmen. But Glory was ready for the next round of negotiations. Unlike the last time he’d given her a lift, all the cards were in her hands.

Feigning reluctance, she got into the front seat and put the greasy bag of doughnuts on the dashboard. Troy raised a brow.

‘“A moment on the lips, a lifetime on the hips . . .”’ he quoted.

Glory ostentatiously bit into one of the doughnuts, so that sugar crystals rained on to the car’s leather interior. He winced. Good. With a bit of luck, she’d get some jam on there too.

Moments later they were turning into Cooper Street. Troy parked at the end of the road, just like last time. Neither of them made any move to get out.

‘Congrats on the bling,’ he said.

‘Thanks,’ she replied mid-mouthful. She shook the bangles on her wrist. ‘Talbot Road market. Five for a quid.’

‘I reckon you can do better than that. Diamonds are a girl’s best friend, after all.’

‘Oooh . . . like on a ring? ’Cause I gotta tell you, Troy, I ain’t the marrying kind.’

‘Don’t get cute with me.’ His eyes narrowed. ‘We all know that the Blake Gordon scam was Cooper Street’s. Dad’s steaming mad and Mum’s worse.’

Glory shrugged, and brushed more sugar off her hands.

‘Everyone agrees it’s got to be one of the most pointless stunts on record. What have you got to show for it? A couple of poxy grand, and your very own witch-hunt.’ He shook his head. ‘We’ve already had a whistle-wind and a train crash, and now there’s been an attack right outside the Inquisition. Witchcrimes, all of them. Before we know it, there’ll be curfews and round-ups and lynchings. Just like the old days.’

‘Lucky for me I’m no witch then.’ She reached for another doughnut. Troy smacked his hand down on the bag.

‘But you know a boy who is. Hexing hell, Glory – even if it wasn’t for yesterday’s caper, Cooper Street’s new witch-kiddie would be the talk of the town. Your outfit leaks information like a broken sieve.’

‘People need to know we’ve got assets.’

‘Cooper Street’s assets are the Wednesday Coven’s liabilities. That’s why new recruits need our approval: we do the checks, and we ask the questions.’

‘Check away. Harry’s got form. Auntie Angel’s been scrying on him for weeks.’ She tossed her hair. ‘Me, I don’t see what the fuss is about. His fae might be flavour of the month, but it ain’t nothing special.’

She and Troy both knew that yesterday’s job required witchwork of the highest level. That was why he’d been sent to sound her out. But the situation was more plausible if she talked Harry down, and let Troy see her jealousy and resentment.

‘All fae’s special. That’s why it’s dangerous. Are you sure this boy is what he seems?’

‘Yeah. Worse luck.’

‘Why’s that?’

‘’Cause he’s a pillock.’

Troy gave a grudging smile. ‘Well, Dad and the uncles want to meet him. Tonight at the Gemini. You’re to come too . . . Unless, of course, you’ve got another half-arsed heist to plan.’

She climbed out of the car and slammed the door.

‘Hey – don’t I even get a goodbye?’

She leaned through the window, and wiped her sticky fingers on the dashboard. ‘You get to keep the doughnuts.’

From Number Seven’s front window, Lucas watched Glory lean into the Mercedes. It looked like she was giving the driver a goodbye kiss.

Nate loomed beside him. ‘Smarmy git. Should’ve known he’d be sniffing round before too long.’

‘Who is it?’

‘Troy Morgan.’ Nate gobbed into an overflowing ashtray. ‘He and Glory are pretty tight. She reckons he’s her ticket out of here.’

In the thick of his hangover, all yesterday’s good humour had gone. He eyed Lucas balefully. ‘You’d better watch yourself. I bet Glory’s been whispering sweet nothings about you and your witch-tricks into his ear. Troy won’t take kindly to competition.’

Lucas already knew that Troy was a force to be reckoned with. The heir to the Wednesday Coven was studying Finance and Business Economics at Imperial College. The perfect training for a career in extortion, racketeering, larceny and fraud.

There was something distasteful about the idea of Glory being with a slick thug like Troy. He was a lot older, and her second cousin too. But Troy might seem a good catch to a girl like Glory, Lucas supposed, remembering the weary teens pushing prams on the estate, and the leers and wolf-whistles that had dogged their own progress. Watching her from the window, he idly wondered what she’d look like if she scraped some of that cosmetic gunk off her face.

He wished he could scrape off Harry. At first, he’d been reassured by the protection of the glamour. After over four days and nights of it, it was as if his old self – his real self – wasn’t just invisible, but unreachable. He felt the loss every time he made a gesture with Harry’s hands, or responded to someone with Harry’s frown or smile. Agent Andrew Barnes had lived undercover as Harry for a couple of months. Lucas wondered how he’d kept himself sane.

He missed other things too. A proper bed and a working shower. Cleanliness. Quiet. Normal conversations and real food. Trying not to dwell on the big things made it harder to shake off the little.

This made his meeting with Zoey that afternoon all the more important. It was his only chance of contact with somebody who knew the real him. She would also have a message from his father. It didn’t matter how brief or restrained. Just a few words would be enough. Something to hold on to, to make him feel a real person again.

Then there were the things he needed to talk to her about – like the unease he felt about Angeline. The old lady was much more alert and active than she’d first appeared. And now there was the Troy issue. Lucas distrusted Nate and his innuendos, but if Glory
did
have a thing for her cousin, could she be compromised?

He was back in the attic, trying to distract his thoughts with Jacko’s football magazine, when Glory burst in. ‘It’s on,’ she said. ‘You and the Morgan brothers. Tonight.’

Excitement and dread swooped through him. He tried not to let either show. ‘That was quick. I’d . . . well, I’d better let my handler know.’

They’d already pre-arranged for Glory and Auntie Angel to cover for him while he went to see Zoey. But Glory shook her head.

‘We can’t risk it. The Wednesday Coven’ll be snooping and scrying like mad. Troy said they’re doing full checks.’

WICA had laid a false trail of school reports, medical and biometric records and other documentary evidence for a mole or hacker to uncover. This was the real proof of Harry Jukes’s identity, and Lucas was all too aware that his own safety depended on its success.

Glory handed him a cheap mobile. ‘You can phone to reschedule on this. It’s prepaid, and we’ll get rid of it afterwards. Now’s not the time to take any chances.’

The Gemini Club was named after the Starling Twins’ first legitimate business venture, a cabaret bar in Soho. This former hang-out of the rich and infamous was now part of a coffee chain. But the Morgan brothers continued to invest in London’s nightlife, and had revived the Gemini brand in memory of their mother and aunt.

Lucas knew the place by reputation. A dilapidated Edwardian music hall, it had been converted into a live music venue and club about ten years ago. Unlike the other Morgan investments, it was in a rough end of town, near Talbot Road market. Even if he’d been old enough to get in, it wasn’t the kind of venue he and his friends aspired to.

Plenty of other people did, however. At half past eleven on a Saturday night, the queue for entry was already snaking far down the street. Many of the punters were in fancy dress: according to the flyers, the theme of the night was ‘Fears and Fantasies’. Lucas and Glory got dark looks as Glory sashayed straight to the top of the queue to exchange banter with the bouncer.

She turned to Lucas. ‘Paul says to go straight through. He’ll let Troy know we’re here.’

In spite of the throng of people, the place felt cavernous, its sweeping stage, broad balconies and plush boxes a reminder of its former role as a theatre. The fact that the paintwork was peeling and the gilt chipped only added to its decadent air. So did the costumes on display, though it wasn’t always clear which were the fears and which the fantasies: aliens, clowns, queens and soldiers mingled with men in drag and women in bondage gear. No one was dressed as a witch, in the fae-tale trappings of pointed hat and crooked staff. That wouldn’t be daring, just dangerous.