Chosen

Chapter 11

When Richard walked in through the archway, Rachel was kneeling next to Shireen. Blood was pooled on the floor and smeared over Rachel’s arms and clothes; she’d taken off her top and wrapped it around Shireen’s middle. Rachel looked up at Richard with haunted eyes and he stopped and took in the scene. “Well,” he said at last. “It seems I’ve missed a few things.”

“Please . . .” Rachel’s voice was shaky. “I can’t stop the bleeding. She won’t . . .”

“Yes, yes. Let me have a look at her.” Richard walked forward and crouched by Shireen’s body. His suit was crumpled and covered in dust but his eyes were bright and his movements full of energy. He looked like he’d just come through a desperate battle and won. “Hmm, nasty wound. Disintegration?”

Rachel didn’t answer. “Well, it shouldn’t be much trouble,” Richard said, standing and dusting himself off. “There’s internal bleeding, but that’s easy enough to stop.”

Rachel stared at him. “You’re going to help her? But she—” She stopped.

“Tried to break into the cells. I know.”

“She won’t— I didn’t—”

Richard raised a hand. “Please don’t apologise, Rachel. Your show of loyalty is admirable. I appreciate how difficult this must have been for you.”

Rachel looked down at the floor. “So given the course of events, I think we can safely assume that Shireen has resigned her position,” Richard said. “Normally I would leave her to her fate, but I think in this case the decision should be yours. If you’d prefer her to be treated I will of course respect your wishes.” He paused. “Assuming that’s what you want.”

Rachel’s head came up. “What?”

“Your aim was quite precise,” Richard said in a conversational tone. “Exactly enough damage to incapacitate Shireen, but not enough to kill her. Some would call it accident. Personally, I believe you have more skill than that.” Richard reached into his pocket. “I could heal her, of course. But perhaps you’d prefer the use of this.” He opened his hand and I caught my breath. On Richard’s palm was a black crystal, a twin to the one Tobruk had shown Rachel.

Rachel stared at the crystal, a sort of dawning horror creeping across her face, then she shook her head violently. “No.”

“Are you sure?” Richard asked. “On some level, wasn’t this what you were considering? Why else would you have used the spell you did?”

“No.” Rachel kept shaking her head. “I can’t.”

Richard watched her for a moment, tilting his head, then closed his hand back over the crystal, hiding it from view. “As you wish,” he said, beginning to walk away. “I’ve never attempted to force you into anything, Rachel. Remember that. Threats and bullying may suffice for lesser men but a true mage must be willing and aware. I can offer suggestions, but the final decision is always yours. So it was for Alex and Shireen; so it is for you.”

Something was happening near the altar: the shadows seemed to be deepening, growing. Richard was walking in a slow circuit about the room, passing the ancient murals, while Rachel sat frozen, staring. “Perhaps we should consider the options,” Richard said. “I always find it helpful to talk these things through. We could stabilise Shireen, take her to Maria or some other life mage to have her healed. Of course, I doubt reviving Shireen would persuade her to respect your earlier decision. I suspect she would simply try to retrieve the Traviss girl again once she was recovered and, if she again chose a time when I was otherwise occupied, she might actually succeed.” Richard glanced back at Rachel. “If she did, I would hunt her down and kill her, along with any accomplices. My tolerance goes only so far.”

The darkness around the altar was taking shape. In the shadows I could make out something tall and thin, but neither Richard nor Rachel seemed to notice. “Of course, this leaves Tobruk out of the equation,” Richard said. “I believe his intention was to use his own crystal upon Alex. Should he succeed—and he seems quite confident that he will—then when he returns he will have Alex’s power in addition to his own. I imagine his first action will be to go looking for you and Shireen to settle some old scores. And given Shireen’s condition, it’s hard to imagine her offering much assistance.”

“You’re just going to let him?” Rachel said. She looked shocked. “You said—”

“Rachel,” Richard said, and his voice was almost gentle. “I appreciate the loyalty you have demonstrated. But I cannot be here to protect you forever. Sooner or later you must learn to stand alone. And to do so you’ll need strength of your own.”

“Shireen could help me.” Rachel’s voice was pleading. “We could do it together.”

“In terms of raw magical ability, perhaps,” Richard said. “But do you think she would want to? After tonight, when she looks at you, what do you think she’ll see?”

Rachel hesitated. “You’ve depended on Shireen too much, Rachel,” Richard said. “It’s weakened you. You could be so much more, but your reliance on her is holding you back. Now, you could heal Shireen. She might forgive you—or pretend to.” Richard turned to face Rachel, holding her with his gaze. “And it will all be back to how it used to be. You’ll be back in Shireen’s shadow, less noticed, less powerful, less appreciated, always second place in everything you do because no matter how hard you try there is someone at your side who can do it more easily. And perhaps she’ll let you have your way from time to time, but in the end she’ll always be more important than you are because that’s simply the way things are.” Richard began to walk towards Rachel, while she stared at him as though hypnotised. “Or you could take Shireen’s power for yourself. She’ll live on, in a way. But then . . . ah, things will be different. Instead of being the weaker one, you’ll be the stronger. Strong enough to stand on your own. You won’t have to be afraid of other mages—they will be the ones who fear you. You’ll be powerful enough to defeat Tobruk and anyone else who tries to take this mansion from you.” Richard stopped in front of Rachel, looking down at her. “This is your choice, Rachel. Everything you have done since becoming my apprentice has led you to this. Go back to your old life, the way it used to be—if you can. Or take what you want, and your place as my Chosen. The decision is yours.”

Richard held out his hand to Rachel, the black crystal in his palm. Rachel stared at it, frozen. Behind them, the shadow thing had taken form; the darkness around it made it hard to see but I could make out a shape that was humanoid yet distorted, unnaturally thin and stretched. As I watched the darkness started to drift towards Shireen’s body, and towards Rachel and Richard. I backed away.

Slowly, Rachel took the crystal from Richard’s hand. Richard took a step back and stood watching, hands behind his back. The darkness seeping from the altar reached his feet but shied away from touching him, flowing around him like water towards Rachel and Shireen. Rachel stared down at Shireen; she was pale from blood loss and quite still. Lying on the stone floor, she looked very small.

Then Rachel closed her fingers over the crystal and started the ritual.

I’ve never seen a Harvesting ritual, not in the flesh. In mage society it’s kind of the equivalent of murder; a lot of people talk about it, but not many have witnessed one. I don’t know how to perform it, and I don’t want to. Rachel was speaking lines in another language, the sounds harsh and guttural, and as she did the darkness seeping from the altar began to swirl around her. The shadow thing was there too and it was behind her now, leaning over her and Shireen, and for one fleeting moment I wondered whether it hadn’t really been there and this was all some trick of Elsewhere, or whether it had been there all along and it was because of Elsewhere that I was able to see it. The shadows around Rachel began to swirl faster, becoming a vortex, and her voice rose to a chant. I had one fleeting glimpse of her as she stood there, and there was something terrible in her face, desire and fear and horror all mingled together. As Rachel cried out the last words there was a thundering crack and Shireen’s back arched, her body spasming as something flickered from Shireen and into Rachel, too fast to see. And as it did the shadow thing behind Rachel plunged its hands and head down into her back, slipping inside her. Rachel threw back her head and screamed, and everything went black.

When the lights returned the shadows were gone. There was no trace of the seeping darkness or the nameless thing looming over Rachel. The room was empty except for Richard, Rachel, and Shireen. Shireen was lying with her head to one side, and somehow as I looked at her I knew she was gone.

Rachel was lying next to her, looking groggy. She opened her eyes to see Shireen’s body and jerked, scrabbling back on the stone.

“You are my apprentice no longer,” Richard said. He hadn’t moved throughout the ritual and still stood with his hands clasped behind his back. “What is your name?”

Rachel stared at Shireen’s body for a moment longer, then looked away. She came to her feet to face Richard, not letting her eyes rest on the body. “Deleo.” Her voice was shaky. “My name’s Deleo.”

I heard a noise from behind me and turned.

Rachel was standing there. Not the younger Rachel but the present one, the one I’d fought with and against last year, the one I’d met last night in the old brewery and who’d screamed at me to get out. She was looking straight at me and she could see me. She raised her hands and in a flash of pure terror I pulled myself away, trying to copy what Shireen had done, desperately trying to get out of Elsewhere because Rachel had seen me and she was coming—

I came awake with a gasp, sitting up in the bed, heart hammering. I was in the room in the Royal National Hotel. The lights were off and the only light in the room was the ambient glow from the window looking out onto the courtyard. I should be safe, but my precognition was screaming at me and I could feel the aura of a spell, familiar and very close. I looked right.

Rachel was standing ten feet away, in the doorway to my hotel room. Sea-green light glowed about her and there was a look of death on her face.

I rolled off the bed as a green ray stabbed from Rachel’s hand, striking the bed and disintegrating it into flaring particles. I landed awkwardly, coming to my feet, Rachel shifted her aim, I dodged back the other way, and her second ray hit the window, causing it to disappear in a cloud of dust. Rachel was between me and the door but there was empty air behind me and before I could think about what I was doing I dived through the window as a third ray cut the air above me. There was a flagpole below and I slammed into it, got a grip with my hands just before I would have slid off, let go on the backswing to come down with both feet on a tiny ledge in the wall above the main doors, then bounced to fall the last ten feet to the concrete below. I hit with a jolt and rolled—pain flashed through my shoulder and knee but I could still run and I came to my feet in a dead sprint.

From above I heard a scream of fury and felt another spell; I followed my precognition and dodged right just as a green ray flashed over my shoulder and opened a hemisphere in the concrete ten feet wide with a hollow whuff. A second ray fell short behind me, and a third struck the hotel building as I put the concrete pillars of the main entrance between me and Rachel. She screamed in fury again, the sound fainter now, and I knew she wouldn’t stop coming. I’d seen the madness in Rachel’s eyes; I’d found her deepest, darkest secret and she was going to kill me for it.

I raced out into the main road, bending right. My heart was pounding, every bit of my body surging with adrenaline. A blue van was passing just ahead and I moved without thinking, bounding onto the hood of a parked car, bouncing up onto the roof, and leaping into the air. I hit the roof of the van with a thump and nearly slid off, my precognition giving me just enough warning to drop and cling to the smooth metal as the van accelerated southeast towards Russell Square. I’d been awake for less than thirty seconds.

Twisting my head to look back I could see the facing of the Royal National shrinking behind me. One or two people were staring in my direction but it was the early hours of the morning and the streets were nearly deserted. I couldn’t see Rachel but my precognition was still screaming danger danger danger, and as I looked ahead I felt the surge of another gate spell.

Gate magic isn’t meant to be used in combat. It’s too slow; the minute or so it takes to form a gate is just too long to be practical. You can speed it up, but almost no one does; the chance of something going wrong is so much higher that you’d have to be insane to take the risk.

Trouble was, Rachel was insane. And she didn’t care about risks.

I saw the green flash as Rachel appeared in a second-floor window ahead and to my left. With a flick of her fingers she vapourised the glass and then looked down, her eyes locking on to me as the van carried me towards her. Her hand came up, sea-green light intensifying, and I could feel the spell charging.

The van was going at maybe thirty miles an hour, but I didn’t even stop to think. I jumped off and for one terrifying moment I was free-falling at what felt like fatal speed. The ray hit while I was in midair, and I had a fleeting glimpse of the whole side of the van evaporating into dust, looking like some crazy sort of engineering diagram as the cross-section of the vehicle opened to the night. It slewed sideways and began to crash, and then I hit the road.

It hurt. Rolling, bumping, tumbling, feeling pain in every part of my body before fetching up against a parked car with a final thud. I was half dazed but I knew that I was still in Rachel’s line of sight and I managed to stagger to my feet and start running again just as the front half of the car disintegrated in a dust cloud behind me. A second later I was under an awning and out of Rachel’s vision; there was an alley to the right and before she could get in sight of me again I sprinted down it.

I ran and kept on running. I didn’t even think about turning to fight—it would be like trying to fight a tidal wave. If Rachel got a straight shot at me for even a second, she would snuff my life out like a candle in a storm. But no matter how powerful her disintegration magic was, it still needed a direct line of sight. As long as there was something between us she couldn’t hit me, and as long as I kept running fast enough it would stay that way. I kept turning corners, angling south towards Holborn, cutting across roads and through parks, always feeling Rachel behind me in my future sight. The sounds of the city were muted in the early morning, and the few people I passed turned to stare as I raced by. I hope none of them tried to stop Rachel; I didn’t have time to look and see.

I don’t know how long that chase went on; it felt like hours but was probably only minutes. I could so easily have died that night and in my mind I did, seeing future after future where Rachel’s rays struck me, my world vanishing in a green flash and a moment of terrible agony and darkness. But I survived, and looking back on it now, I think what saved me wasn’t my magic but my legs. Rachel’s water magic is very, very good at destroying things, but one thing it doesn’t give is mobility. She can gate, but trying to gate on top of a sprinting man is like trying to swat a housefly with a hammer. Rachel had to catch me before she could kill me and I could run harder and longer than she could. I kept weaving through the streets, switching directions randomly, always looking ahead.

I finally stopped running somewhere around Covent Garden. A theatre’s back door made a black gap in the wall, and I ducked inside it, my breath coming in ragged gasps. My mist cloak blended with the shadows, hiding my trembling. I was invisible . . . but that hadn’t stopped Rachel so far. I couldn’t see any trace of her in the futures ahead, but that didn’t reassure me; she’d found me in Elsewhere and jumped to me in the flesh. How had that even been possible? I couldn’t see any danger, but I didn’t want to stop. The rules that I’d thought would protect me hadn’t worked and even hiding didn’t feel safe anymore. The only thing I could think to do was to keep moving and I set off into the darkness.

I walked all through the night. I had a destination in mind to begin with but somewhere along the way I got lost and my sleep-fogged brain couldn’t think clearly enough to come up with a new one. I kept moving and searching, looking for danger, finding nothing but afraid to stop and rest. The stars wheeled overhead, the summer constellations dipping below the horizon, and the people I passed in the night became faceless blurs, threats to be avoided.

By the time the sky started to lighten in the east I was too tired to keep going. I was afraid to stop moving and afraid to sleep, but my limbs felt like lead and I was starting to get the weird light-headed feeling that comes with sleep deprivation. Going to Elsewhere doesn’t refresh you in the way that true sleep does; your body rests, but your mind doesn’t. The constant stress was draining my energy reserves and I was reaching my limits.

I didn’t know where in London I was anymore; I had the vague feeling I was south of the river but I’d gotten lost after crossing Waterloo Bridge. I’d passed hotels, but I didn’t want to use them; hotels had people, and people were dangerous. Instead I searched the short-term futures as I walked, looking for somewhere empty.

There was an old building down a narrow back street in the shadow of a red-and-brown tower block. It had been a pub once, but the sign was faded and the windows boarded up. Someone had smashed one of the boards around the back, and I used it to climb in. The ground floor was covered in bottles and plastic bags and old needles and rotting food, and it stank of piss and decay. I found a way up to the second-floor rooms; they were bare planks but at least they didn’t stink as badly. There were signs someone else had used the place—a lice-ridden mattress and some food wrappers—but it was empty now and that was all I cared about. I curled up in a corner and tried to rest.

It took me a long time. Even though I was exhausted, I couldn’t fall asleep; every time I was beginning to drift a noise would jerk me back to wakefulness, searching the future for danger. As long as I stayed awake I could keep watch, but as soon as I fell asleep again I wouldn’t be able to protect myself. Fear isn’t new to me, but I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt this kind of paranoia. Rachel shouldn’t have been able to find me. I’d been in a random room in a random hotel wearing my mist cloak, and everything I knew told me that I should have been safe. But I hadn’t been, and now I didn’t feel as though I was safe anywhere. The mist cloak felt warm and comfortable around me, softening the bare planks, but I couldn’t stop my mind worrying over what could happen next. The last two times I’d gone to sleep I’d woken up to near-death. I didn’t want to do it again.

But I’m not Anne and I can’t switch off feeling tired. In the end, exhaustion won out.

I didn’t sleep well.

I used to have nightmares about my time in Richard’s mansion. Over the last year they’ve been getting better but sometimes they come back, and this was one of those times. I had dreams of being chased, running with leaden limbs but never being able to get away. I knew the people after me wanted revenge for what I’d done and the worst part was that I knew I deserved it. From time to time I’d drift half awake, vaguely aware that I should be watching for something, but I was too tired to remember what.

And then the nightmares passed and I was in a peaceful dream. I was in my shop, minding the counter. Luna was upstairs and there were customers passing through, and for the first time in days I felt safe.

Then I looked to one side and saw Shireen standing there, and suddenly I didn’t feel safe anymore. I threw up my hands. “No! Not again!”

“It’s okay,” Shireen said.

“I’m through with this! You hear me? Variam told me, right at the start. He asked what someone as crazy as Rachel would do if she found me sneaking around in her head. I shouldn’t have tried to spy on Rachel in the first place. It was fucking insane and I nearly died for it. I’m not doing it again, Shireen, you hear me? I’m done!”

Shireen didn’t look upset. She stepped over the rope to the magic items section and picked up a wand, turning it over in her hands. “I was shielding you while you were in her memories,” she said without looking. “I’ve had a lot of time to practice with Elsewhere. I was trying to hide your presence so she wouldn’t see you. Rachel must have become suspicious. I’m sorry.”

“You don’t think you could have warned me about that BEFORE?”

“I know.”

“Jesus.” I looked away. The customers were still in the shop, their conversation a gentle background murmur. Outside was the strange white glow of Elsewhere; at some point we’d left my dreams. I knew that I could go back if I wanted—Shireen couldn’t actually keep me in Elsewhere against my will—but I didn’t. There were things I wanted to know, and this time I knew the right questions to ask. “I know what you are now,” I said. “You told me when we first met, didn’t you? You told me you were a shadow. I didn’t know what you meant, but I should have figured it out from the start. Harvesting steals someone’s magic, but your magic’s part of you, isn’t it? You can’t take one without the other. When Rachel Harvested you, she wasn’t just taking your magic, she was taking you. And you’ve been living inside her head.”

Shireen was silent for a while. “At first I didn’t know what had happened,” she said at last. “I thought I’d died and gone to . . . I don’t know. The next life, maybe. I felt wrong, like there were bits of me missing. And there were new memories. I could remember things I’d done with Rachel, except when I remembered them I was looking at me, from the outside. And then I started to see other things. The present as well as the past. I could see what Rachel saw.” Shireen looked up at me. “And finally I found I could talk to her.”

I stared at Shireen. “She can see you, can’t she?”

Shireen nodded.

I covered my eyes. “Jesus.” I remembered my reunion with Rachel last year. She’d been talking to thin air, speaking to someone who didn’t answer. Now I knew who she’d been talking to. “So all these years she’s had you looking over her shoulder?” I shook my head. “She murdered her best friend and now she’s got her ghost following her around. No wonder she’s crazy . . .”

“It’s . . . worse than that,” Shireen said.

I stared at her. “How?”

“You saw something in Rachel’s memories, didn’t you?” Shireen said. “Something they couldn’t see.”

“That thing . . .” I remembered the spindly, inhuman form and had to hold back a shiver. “It’s real?”

“It’s real.”

“What is it?”

“Do you know what it feels like, being Harvested?” Shireen asked.

I shook my head.

“It feels like your soul’s being ripped away.” Shireen’s eyes were distant. “You can’t move and you can’t scream, but you can feel every bit of it. It takes minutes but it feels like years. I knew what was happening to me, and I knew it was Rachel who was doing it. And I hated her for it. She was my oldest friend and she was killing me, and I wanted her to suffer, hurt her as much as she was hurting me . . .” Shireen fell silent for a moment, staring past me. “There’s a vulnerability to Harvesting. When you open yourself to take in the person whose magic you’re absorbing, you open yourself to . . . other things. I called out, and something came. It passed into Rachel. I don’t know what it is and I don’t think it has a name. I know it doesn’t talk. I don’t think it can do anything to me. But it can do things to her.”

We stood in silence for a little while. “Are you really Shireen?” I said at last. “Or are you some sort of copy?”

“I don’t know,” Shireen said simply, and somehow she sounded very sad. “I can remember my life, but it’s patchy. Like old plaster flaking off a wall. Sometimes Rachel’s memories feel more real than mine. Maybe the real Shireen died and she’s gone away and I’m just an echo. Or maybe I am still Shireen, and I won’t die until Rachel does . . .” She looked up at me. “How would I know?”

I sighed, my anger draining away. “I guess you wouldn’t, would you?” I thought for a minute. “What happened after Rachel killed you?”

“At first Rachel was preparing for Tobruk to come back,” Shireen said. “She wanted to be Richard’s Chosen and she was going to fight him for it, kill him if she had to.”

“But Tobruk never came.”

“And in the end she figured out why. She didn’t believe it at first, but after they found the body even she couldn’t pretend. In a way the two of you were on the same side back then, though she didn’t see it like that . . . And then it was time for Richard to leave. And they brought out Catherine.”

I felt a sick sensation in the pit of my stomach. “Did Richard kill her?”

Shireen shook her head.

“Then is she—?”

“Rachel did,” Shireen said, looking at me steadily. “You remember the room that was being built at the end of the catacombs? That was what it was designed for. Catherine begged and pleaded but Rachel didn’t listen. She did the ritual and it worked just like Richard said. It drained the life from Catherine’s body and opened a gate, just for a few seconds. Richard went through it. The last thing he told her was to watch for his return.”

I stared down at the floor, feeling numb and hollow. So this was how it all ended. A part of me wanted to argue, tell Shireen that she must have made a mistake—but hadn’t I always known deep down that this was what must have happened? How likely was it that Catherine could have gotten away and survived for all these years without me or her brother or anyone else ever knowing? Will had been right after all. I had killed Catherine by capturing her—it had just taken a while for her to die. “Why did Rachel do it?” I said.

“Because she didn’t have any choice,” Shireen said with a sigh. “That was how she saw it. She’d wanted to be Richard’s Chosen, and she wanted it so badly she killed me for it. Once she’d done that . . . If she stopped being his apprentice and walked away, it would all have been for nothing. She would have killed me for nothing. It was like . . . as long as he was giving the orders, she could pretend it wasn’t really her fault. He gave her an excuse.”

“That’s bullshit! She always had a choice; she could have stopped!”

Shireen looked past me. When she spoke, her voice sounded different, as though she were reciting.

For mine own good,

All causes shall give way: I am in blood

Stepp’d in so far that, should I wade no more,

Returning were as tedious as go o’er . . .

I stared at her. “Where’s that from?”

“A play I once saw,” Shireen said. She looked at me. “Do you know why Rachel hates you so much?”

I shook my head.

“Because you did go back. You stopped being Richard’s apprentice and started a new life. Every time Rachel looks at you she knows that she could have done it all differently, that she did have a choice. And she hates you for it because deep down there’s a bit of her that wishes she’d done the same thing. You’re a living reminder of the one thing in her past that she’s most ashamed of and that no one could ever forgive, and the worst part is that she knows she didn’t have to do it and that it was all her own fault.”

“And then there’s you,” I said quietly. “She thought once she killed you it’d all be over, but she has to see you every day and be reminded of what she’s done. And on top of that she’s got this horror from God-knows-where in her head as well.” I shook my head. “Jesus.”

Shireen nodded and we stood for a while in silence. “All right,” I said at last. “What do you want, Shireen? You said that after I’d seen all of this, there was something you were going to ask from me. What is it?”

“I want you to help Rachel,” Shireen said. “Redeem her.”

I stared at Shireen. “You have got to be kidding me.”

Shireen shook her head.

“You want me to do what? Save her soul?”

“Something like that.”

“I thought you didn’t believe in that stuff?”

“When you’ve been a disembodied soul in someone else’s body for ten years it changes your attitudes a bit.”

“She killed you!”

“I still love her,” Shireen said simply. “She was my best friend and I never stopped caring about her, even after everything. I know what she did but you haven’t seen how much she’s suffered for it. Besides, if anyone’s got the right to decide whether she deserves to be forgiven, don’t you think it should be me?”

I couldn’t think of anything to say to that. “Will you help me?” Shireen asked.

“Shireen . . .” I dropped into my chair and covered my eyes, resting my head in one hand. “What do you expect me to do? You said it yourself, she hates me. And that was before she saw me spying on her. Now she’s moved me up to ‘kill on sight.’”

“I don’t think she’ll try to kill you,” Shireen said. “Not again.”

I stared at Shireen. “Are you serious?”

“She’s never actually tried to kill you before,” Shireen said. “Not really. The only reason she did this time was . . . well, she lost control a bit.”

“A bit?”

Shireen clasped her hands and gave me a hopeful look. “I’m pretty sure I can talk her around for next time.”

“Have you considered,” I said carefully, “that hanging around in Rachel’s head for ten years might have messed up your standards a little?”

“Maybe,” Shireen said. “But this is what I want. I’m not changing my mind on this one, Alex. If you want me to keep helping you, this is the price.”

I looked at Shireen for a long time. “You know there’s no guarantee she’s going to listen to me,” I said at last. “Or anyone. If she makes a decision I can’t stop her.”

“I know.”

I stayed silent for a little while then shook my head. “I can’t promise anything,” I said at last. “Not yet. I understand why you want this, but . . . Look, tell me something. How the hell did Rachel find me?”

“She’s always been able to,” Shireen said. “Didn’t you notice?”

I started to answer, then stopped. When I’d seen Rachel last year at the British Museum I’d been in the shadows wearing my mist cloak. Rachel’s two companions, Cinder and Khazad, hadn’t noticed a thing . . . but Rachel had. She hadn’t found me but it had been close, and every time since then that I’d spied on her the same thing had happened. “Why?” I said.

“Do you remember the first time you went to Elsewhere?” Shireen said. “The very first time?”

“Yeah.” It had been Richard who’d shown us how to do it. The four of us had travelled there together—me, Shireen, Tobruk, and Rachel. It had been a memorable trip.

“When you go to Elsewhere with another person, it leaves a connection,” Shireen said. “I think when Rachel Harvested me something happened that strengthened that somehow. She can sense you and you can sense her.”

“I’m not sure I can.”

“Last autumn, when you were working for Belthas,” Shireen said. “You found Rachel and Cinder just by walking around London. Didn’t you ever wonder why that worked?”

I hadn’t, not until Shireen mentioned it. “So she can find me through my mist cloak?”

“The cloak makes it harder,” Shireen said. “I think the reason she could do it was that you were actually in her memories. It intensified the connection, at least for a little while. She must have traced the link.”

“Then don’t take this personally,” I said, “but I’m never doing anything like that again.”

“I understand.”

We stood in silence for a while, listening to the buzz of conversation, then I shook my head, pulling my thoughts back to the present. “So all of this was for nothing. Catherine was dead all along and there’s nothing that’ll stop Will from coming after me.”

“You know the truth now.”

“And you couldn’t have just told me?” I looked at Shireen. “You knew what had happened to Catherine. You could have told me I was wasting my time.”

“You think learning how I died is a waste of time?” Shireen said quietly. She didn’t raise her voice, but her eyes sparked and something in them made me want to draw back. “You don’t think what happens to me and Rachel is important? I’ve helped you every time you’ve needed it. You think that’s all I’m here for, doing you favours and then disappearing when you don’t need me? I might be just a shadow but I’m not your slave. You don’t have the right to tell me what to do.”

I looked away, feeling a flash of shame. “I’m sorry,” I said at last. “That wasn’t what I meant. But Will and the Nightstalkers are still out there and they’re still after me. I know that for you this is the most important thing in the world, but you don’t have to worry about getting killed in your sleep.”

“This is more important than Will and the Nightstalkers,” Shireen said, and her voice was utterly certain. “They’re a short-term problem.”

“Short-term?”

“You’ve faced worse,” Shireen said. “So has Rachel. They’re not going to be around in the long term but she will be. You needed to know this, you needed to see it, so that you understood. And yes, it was dangerous, but I’m not sorry for doing it. It was worth the risk.”

Easy for you to say, I thought, but didn’t say it out loud. For the first time since meeting Shireen’s shade, I felt I was starting to understand her. She had her own priorities and to me they might seem crazy, but from her point of view they made sense and now that I had some idea of what they were I could deal with her. It wasn’t like it was the first time I’d had to work with someone with a skewed point of view . . . and somewhere at the back of my mind I couldn’t help but wonder if our points of view might not be so different after all. “Anything you can do to help?”

“I can’t fight for you,” Shireen said. “Not in your world. But there’s a place I can show you. You won’t enjoy it but it might help you find something you’ve been looking for for a long time.”