City of Halves (21 page)

He watched the fire kindle. She came closer and he straightened
up as it took hold. He was suddenly too close. She stepped back. ‘Ellis is working for the Agency,' she told him. ‘He took Vicky Shadbolt, made her think they were in a relationship. And I think she's with Mona Singh, and who knows how many more.'

‘But where?' He pushed his hand into his hair, scowling.

‘Battersea, the old power station.' She hugged herself, rubbing her arms for warmth.

‘And you know this how?'

Lily took a breath. ‘Your brother told me on the way there. It's the perfect cover. Far enough away from Westminster for the government to have plausible deniability. Derelict for years, always supposedly under development – though nothing ever happens – but still close to the City. Heliport a stone's throw away. All very convenient.'

Regan went into the kitchen and returned with an inch of tan liquid in a glass. He offered it to Lily. She took a sip, coughing slightly, and grimaced, shivering at the same time. ‘Cold?' he asked her.

She nodded. He shook out a blanket from the end of the bed and wrapped it around her. She huddled tightly inside it. ‘So cold. Can I get into bed?'

‘If you want to.'

Lily climbed in, sliding her legs beneath the covers, still wrapped tightly in the blanket. Regan sat on the floor, his back to the old whitewashed plaster.

‘What are you sitting down there for? Why would you?' Suddenly, to her surprise, she sniffed and a tear bounced off her cheek.

He frowned, his face confused.

She pushed her hand across her cheek. ‘Ignore me. Overload, that's all. Sit where you like. I don't care.'

He got to his feet and came to sit next to her on the bed. Another tear tipped on to her cheek. She brushed it off. He watched her again carefully, then held out his arm. Lily slid under it, burrowing into his chest and absorbing his warmth like a drug. She breathed a sigh of relief, reassured by the physical contact, rubbing a last tear away on the material of his T-shirt.

‘Are all human girls like you?' he asked after a long silence.

‘Meaning what?'

‘Impossible.'

‘Only the best ones.'

He huffed a laugh, relaxing slowly. His arm curved around her shoulder and he rubbed her cheek with the back of his fingers. ‘Tell me what happened.'

Lily took a breath. ‘Ellis appeared on Blackfriars Bridge, and there was a van. A black one, like the van in the alley today. Well, yesterday now.'

Regan nodded.

‘They took Vicky. Your brother is the “David Smith” from the message app. And he pretended to be you to get me to the bridge.
And
he's the one who's been following me online. He told me I would understand soon. That I was part of the future. And then the man who tried to take me yesterday arrived, and he . . . well, I forgot to tell you yesterday, what with everything . . .' Lily pushed up the cuff of the shirt she was wearing, revealing the talisman and her bruise. ‘His skin, it's turning like snakeskin. Look at the pattern his hand left on me last night. And tonight it's got worse. It was all over his neck.'

‘You think they could be experimenting on him? Using Mona?'

Lily nodded. ‘Yes. Ellis said Mona had been valuable to the project already.'

‘Then what happened?'

‘Then Ellis got me into the van, but he got out in Vauxhall to see someone and I set my scarf on fire. Snake man got out, opened the door and grabbed me, and the talisman either burnt him or . . . well, it flashed really brightly anyway, and he let me go and I jumped into the river. Eleanor told me to.'

‘He didn't stop you?'

‘He'd gone to get another girl, from the fire station, but none of that is the point. I'm part of a project, Ellis said. I have been since I was born.'

Regan's face became set.

‘They're testing us. Me. They're looking for more like me. This blood drive – it's not just testing, it's a harvest. He called it Operation Harvest. It's about our blood.' Lily ran out of breath and started again. ‘But it's not his fault. They took him ten years ago, and he's your brother and—'

He put his hand over her mouth. ‘Okay, enough. And now Rachel, Eleanor's sister, is missing too.'

Lily tugged his fingers away. ‘I think Rachel might have been the girl Ellis went to get. I only saw her hair, but it was very pale. Perhaps they're experimenting on her too, right now. And the mothwings. On all of us!' She ran a hand through her hair, wincing at a new bump she didn't remember getting.

‘What's the matter?'

She pointed behind her right ear. ‘Bang on the head, that's all.'

His fingers slid into her hair.

‘Ow! Don't.' She tugged her head away. ‘Pro tip, when a human tells you they've got a bruise, don't start pressing on it.'

He ignored her, his finger grazing another knock on her browbone. ‘We need to find Rachel, and soon. If the Agency are messing around with her, things are going to get seriously out of control. Their father might get involved.'

‘Who's their father?'

‘The Thames River God. In the Rock Lock. The one I told you about.'

‘Oh,' said Lily. ‘One of the Ancients.'

‘Oh,' he agreed. ‘He's dormant at the moment, but—'

‘Asleep like the dragons?'

‘Not asleep, but yes, something like that. Beneath the south end of London Bridge. Has been for over a thousand years. But he could rise up and destroy the City, turn the river against it, if he wanted to.'

‘Great,' said Lily with feeling, closing her eyes for a moment.

‘Speaking of sleep, you should try to get some.'

‘I
should
go home. Dad will worry about me. Although he's not there right now.'

He thought it through. ‘Then stay, for now. Safer here than being there on your own.' He shifted slightly, as if he were about to get up.

‘You're leaving?' she asked, surprised.

He shrugged and got to his feet. ‘I'll go to the lab tomorrow, but tonight I've got a job to do.' He picked up the book from the floor and placed it on the bedside table with its goldcovered spine facing out.

‘What's that?'

‘A grimoire. They're books of our history. I killed something I've never seen before, and I wanted to look it up.'

She took a breath. ‘I looked
you
up.'

‘You did?' He looked at her. ‘In what?'

‘Archive dot org. Someone had put one of those . . . grimoires . . . online.'

‘Right.' He looked none-the-wiser, then wary. ‘And?'

‘A bringer of punishment and a protector of the weak. A guardian.'

‘Yes.'

Lily swallowed. ‘What did Misrak and Delphine really mean, about the prophecy?'

Taking a breath, he looked at the fire. ‘Ten years ago they predicted I would save a girl – a human girl, like you – who was destined to restore order to the City.' He shrugged. ‘But before that, there will be a war. The Chaos War. I'd always assumed it meant a war between us and the demons. But maybe it's a war between the Eldritche and the Agency. Prophecies are pretty non-specific.'

They were silent. Regan took a step, turning away.

‘Don't go.'

He turned back. ‘You don't want me to?'

Lily shook her head, unable to speak. He seemed to consider for a long moment, then he sat back down, retaking his former position smoothly. Far too smoothly for a human. Lily sat opposite, looking at him. ‘I want to ask you some questions.'

‘Okay,' he said slowly. He tucked a curl of her hair behind her ear and ran his finger down her jaw to the point of her chin. Her heart kicked up, thumping loudly in the silence, and all her questions went out of her head.

‘Can you hear my heart beating?'

‘Yes.'

‘Sorry.'

‘I prefer it to the alternative,' he said soberly, dropping his hand.

She looked away. ‘What's going to happen now? Now that it's war?'

‘Tomorrow we find the lab and get them out.'

‘Just like that?' Lily rearranged the blanket on her shoulders.

‘Well, I'd imagine there'll be some pretty heavy security, firepower, things like that.'

‘Ah, right. But we'll be okay?'

‘Very possibly not.'

They looked at each other.

‘Aren't you frightened?' Lily said at last.

‘I'd be an idiot if I wasn't.'

She looked down. ‘I think you should tell a girl about things like blood and war prophecies.' She shook her hair back, turning her face to the fire that spat and muttered in the hearth. ‘Because I had all these criteria about boys, you know. Must not have annoying habits, or be a sport bore. This kind of stuff wasn't on the list.'

He was watching her again, trying to work her out. ‘What about tattoos, working nights and killing things?'

Lily thought about it. She wrinkled her nose a little. ‘No deal breakers so far.'

He looked down. ‘Lily, there's something—'

She leant across and pressed a quick, soft kiss to his mouth. He took a breath, surprised. She broke away and they looked at each other, unsure.

Lily shrugged. ‘Okay, fine. Just wanted to try it, before we get killed or eaten by dragons and London gets flood—'

The room tilted as he pushed her back into the pillows, trapping her beneath him, his mouth on hers. She wrapped around him, fingers sliding into his hair. He kissed her until her bones ached and she was struggling to breathe.

Somewhere, far off in the dark outside the bedroom window, something shrieked. Regan tensed. Kissing beneath the corner of her jaw, he murmured, ‘I have to go.'

Lily slid her hands up beneath the back of his T-shirt, pulling him down.

The shriek sounded again. Regan looked towards the window and swore. He kissed her abruptly, once. ‘Stay.' Another kiss. ‘Here.'

She started to protest as he got up from the bed. He ducked back and kissed her into silence. ‘I'll be back. Promise.'

Then he was gone, pushing to his feet and disappearing through the door. It banged behind him.

‘
L
ily, I'm back. Wake up.' He shook her gently.

She woke, lifting her hands in alarm.

He caught them. ‘It's just me.'

Shoving herself up the pillow, Lily threw her arms around Regan, holding tight. He sat on the edge of the bed, clothes hanging from him in shreds, and buried his face in the crook of her neck, breathing her in. His coat, draped over the iron end of the bed, was covered in black burnt streaks. His T-shirt was burnt away from his shoulder, his jeans ruined. He was filthy and his hands had left charred marks on her wrists.

She pulled back a little. ‘Are you hurt?'

His dirty face was as beautiful as ever. ‘No. But I
am
overrun. I can't hold them for another night. I'm not sure I got them all tonight anyway.'

The built-up fire burnt merrily in the grate, giving a loud crack. Lily jumped.

‘We need to go somewhere,' said Regan. ‘Get dressed.' He
left the room, already stripping off the ragged remains of his T-shirt.

‘To the power station?' she called after him, climbing out of the bed.

‘No,' he shouted over the sound of the bath running. ‘Can't hope to make it into there in daylight. We'll have to wait until tonight. There's other stuff we need to do right now.'

‘Like what?'

‘Drink your tea.'

It was only then that Lily noticed the steaming mug next to her. Her clothes were cold and gritty. She grimaced as she pulled them on. The flat was freezing, a chill radiating up from the bare floorboards. She looked out of the window, over the tiny St Mary-le-Bow churchyard and the narrow lane beyond. It wasn't yet light, and the street light was haloed with mist. Lily checked her watch. Five-thirty. She slumped a little, then straightened and took a gulp of the tea.

Slipping from the room, she walked into the hall, straight into Regan as he came out of the bathroom. He was wearing nothing but a towel wrapped about his hips. The toothbrush stuck out of the corner of his mouth.

Lily stared, wide-eyed. The black flames snaked up from his left foot, coiling around his long, perfect leg, disappearing into the towel and emerging just above his left hip bone. They curved around his waist, burning up his muscle-quilted ribs and over the right side of his chest, across his back and the wing of his shoulder blade. He was almost thin, but not quite, muscles smooth and sharply defined. The flames met over his right shoulder before coursing down his arm, curling to a finish on the edge of the hand reaching up to grip the toothbrush.

He turned to face her, very slowly.

She looked away, shy.

‘That bad?'

‘What?'

‘Tattoos,' he said through the toothpaste.

Lily shook her head. ‘I like them.'

He eyed her uncertainly. ‘You do?'

She nodded. Walking over to him, she took his left hand in both of hers, her thumbs stroking over the rooks picked out across the back.

He looked down at their joined hands, then pulled her into the bathroom, keeping hold of her hand even as he quickly finished brushing his teeth and drinking from the tap. Leading her back into the bedroom, he sat her down on the bed, looking serious.

‘Sit there and finish that.' He pointed at the tea before stalking over to the old chest of drawers and dragging them open, pulling out clean things and dumping them on the top, his back to her. Lily took a sip of the sweet tea, just as he let the towel fall. She spluttered into the cup. He ignored her, yanking on his jeans and socks and pulling on yet another battered Henley, jerking it down, the muscles of his back twisting under the skin. Stalking out, he returned in his boots and pulled on the coat, holding out his hand.

‘Come on.'

‘Where are we going?'

‘You want to know about the prophecy?'

She put down the mug. ‘Yes.'

‘So do I.'

*

Outside, the fog seemed to bite her through the damp material of her clothes. They walked north, over Cheapside. Lily struggled to keep up, but Regan wasn't slowing down much, keeping tight hold of her hand.

‘Where are we going?' She jogged alongside him.

‘Smithfield.'

Smithfield was London's meat market. A vast set of Victorian hangars decorated with green, red and yellow-painted wrought ironwork. Lily had been once, and remembered feeling intimidated by the porters, the loud men clad in white coats, white pork pie hats and yellow rubber boots, who rushed about, sometimes carrying half a pig or sheep carcass, shouting and swearing at each other.

‘And why are we here?'

‘There's a man here. A diviner, Micky Marsden.'

‘Diviner?'

‘Yes. Most Eldritche have a talent. Or more than one. Diviners have talents for discovering or seeing things . . . I don't know, finding money, seeing emotions . . . there's lots of different ones.'

‘And what's Micky's talent?'

‘He can divine the true nature of things. Through fire.'

Lily looked at him. ‘He's not setting me on fire,' she said definitely.

They approached the market through the mist. At each of the great doors sat refrigerated trucks, engines running to keep the cooling units working, headlamps lighting up wedges of swirling yellow vapour. The cafe on the corner opposite was brightly lit. Some porters had already finished their shift and were eating fry-ups with pints of lager in thick glasses, despite
it being before six in the morning.

Regan looked down at her. ‘Did they ever tell you how many people have your blood type? Roughly.'

Lily shrugged. ‘No idea. I looked on the internet once. Point nought nought nought nought four per cent of the population or something. More noughts. I don't know of anyone else in this country.'

‘And other blood types are toxic to you?'

‘Yes.'

‘But not mine?'

‘It doesn't look that way, does it?' She shook her head. ‘But let's not make a habit of that transfusion business.'

He looked at the sky as though despairing. ‘It's a last resort, not a hobby. I might be a freak, but I'm not that sort of freak.'

Lily dug her chin into her coat collar, then winced at the clammy coldness.

They came to the large glass-fronted entrance of the market. Inside, Lily looked around at all the booths selling every type and cut of meat. The inside of the building was unheated, and as cold as outside.

‘This way.'

She followed him through the gangways, dodging the porters and edging out of the way of customers dragging wheeled trolleys stacked with coolboxes, destined for restaurants and cafes across the city. Regan stopped in front of a shiny meat counter beneath an old painted sign declaring
Marsden's Quality Meats
. A young man was weighing and wrapping joints.

‘Hi Joey, Micky around?'

The young man grinned. ‘He's in the back, as usual.'

‘Great, thanks.'

They walked behind the counter and Joey returned to his tasks. In a walk-in refrigerator behind the booth was a man in a white coat, his back to them. His cropped hair was almost as dark as Regan's. He turned without looking up, writing on a clipboard, a pen in his gloved hand. He had a hare lip and a squashed boxer's nose. The air was freezing, their breath clouding. Lily shuddered inside her clothes.

‘And what can I get for you? The fillet of beef is top notch today, even if I do say so myself.'

‘Micky?'

The man laughed. ‘Regan! Long time no see, mucker. How's tricks?'

Regan smiled, a touch awkwardly. ‘So-so. I'm looking for some help. Well, advice, maybe.'

Micky put the clipboard down.

‘This is Lily.'

Micky whistled quietly. He went to the fridge door and poked his head out. ‘Joey, no visitors.'

‘Right-o,' said Joey cheerfully.

Micky pulled the door to, immediately dropping the temperature. Lily closed her eyes in despair for a second, then she clenched her jaw to stop her teeth chattering.

Micky walked over to her, looking at her in exactly the same way Misrak and Delphine had. It was a mixture of curiosity and satisfaction. Lily looked back at him, glad that Regan was still holding her hand.

‘Why are you all being weird?' She edged away a little.

Regan tugged her to his side. ‘We're not.'

Micky glanced up at Regan. ‘There's another dragon on the rise.'

‘I know. I met it behind St Sepulchre's last night.'

He nodded. ‘Joey and I dropped off a couple of cow carcasses for them round the back of Crutched Friars on our way in this morning. Let the van splatter some blood around the streets as we left. Saw one of them heading in a few minutes later. Should keep them busy for a bit.'

‘Thanks, Micky.'

‘What are friends for? I got word about it all, but me and Joey've only got each other, so we thought we'd stick it out, watch the show.' He was still looking at Lily. ‘So, this is her.' It wasn't a question.

‘Yes.' Regan said.

‘So the war's coming, all right.'

‘Maybe as soon as tonight.'

‘And what do you want from me?'

‘Divine for us. The prophecy. You know what it says.'

Micky nodded, his face serious.

‘I need to be sure. That it has to be that way.'

The butcher studied him, then nodded. ‘Okay.'

‘No setting me on fire,' Lily chipped in.

Micky laughed. ‘Been telling you our secrets, has he?'

Lily ducked her face, then regretted the cold scrape of the zip beneath her chin and jogged her knees in a vain attempt to keep warm.

Micky winked, taking her chill for anxiety. ‘Don't worry, petal, it's not painful.'

‘Will you do it?' Regan pressed him.

‘Of course I'll do it.' Micky nodded, then sighed. ‘Shame it has to be here, though – plays havoc with the health and safety.' He began to strip off his gloves. ‘But I'm guessing time is of
the essence.'

‘What do you need?' Regan asked.

Micky looked Lily up and down. ‘Some of that pretty hair should do it.'

Lily stared at both of them. ‘You
are
joking.'

Regan drew a large carving knife from the block on the bench. Lily took a step back, scowling at him. He reached out and, before she had time to protest, had snicked off a single curl.

‘See? Painless.'

She narrowed her eyes at him.

Micky rubbed his hands together, then opened them. A pool of bright flames lay in his palms. At first they flickered yellow and orange, then rapidly deepened to a bright red. Micky's fingers glowed. He smiled at Lily. ‘This was a real nuisance before fireproof gloves. And walk-in freezers.'

She watched as he concentrated on his cupped hands.

‘Now,' he said to Regan.

Regan dropped the curl into his hands. It burnt immediately with a little flash, filling the refrigerator with the stink of singed hair. Micky frowned as the flames lessened. They receded until his hands were only glowing and smoking gently. ‘Nothing, mate, sorry.'

‘You're missing the point,' Lily said.

They looked at her.

She raised an eyebrow. ‘The Agency are taking my
blood
, not my hair.'

‘Hair should work just as well,' Micky shrugged. ‘It's part of you.'

Lily pulled up her sleeve and picked up the knife. Regan
caught her hand. ‘No.'

She stepped away, shaking him off. ‘Micky?'

Micky looked at Regan, one eyebrow cocked. ‘Game bird, this one, eh?' He rubbed his palms together.

Regan stepped forward, frowning, putting himself between Micky and Lily, facing her. He looked conflicted. Micky sidestepped him, looking up. ‘Mate, it's all right. I know you're not supposed to let her get hurt, but one little scratch isn't going to make any difference now, is it?'

Lily flinched as she drew the knife along the underside of her wrist, well away from the veins. Blood ran instantly down her fingers. She let it drip into Micky's flaming hands . . . and found herself on the floor, shielded by Regan's body, as a fireball engulfed the refrigerator.

Micky swore loudly as the flashover blew the door wide open. A few seconds later, Joey's curious face appeared.

‘Micky?'

‘It's all right, Joe. Shut the door, there's a good lad.'

Lily lay, winded, in the cage Regan's propped arms had formed around her, one hand protecting the back of her head from the hard metal floor. ‘You okay?' he asked, his grey-gold eyes looking into hers, worried.

She took a breath. ‘Yep.'

He was on his feet now, helping her up.

‘Well, I think we can safely say that's a yes,' Micky said, getting to his feet.

‘A yes to what?!' Lily looked between them.

‘Yes, you are the girl from the prophecy, and, yes, there's a war coming,' Regan said, buttoning his coat. ‘Anything else?' he said to Micky. ‘About the outcome of the prophecy?'