The Bone Season

14 The Sun Rising

For the next few nights, Warden and I did not speak; nor did we train. Every night I would leave as soon as the bell rang, not looking at him as I passed. He would watch, but he would never stop me. I almost wished he would, just so I could let the anger out.

One night I tried going to see Liss. It was raining outside, and I longed for the warmth of her stove. But I couldn’t. Not after what had happened with Warden. After I’d helped the enemy, again, I couldn’t have looked her in the eye.

I soon found a new refuge, a place to call my own: an enclosed archway on the steps of the Hawksmoor. It must once have been a majestic structure, but now its grandeur made it tragic: it was cold and heavy, crumbling at the edges, waiting for an age that might never come again. That place became my bolt-hole. I went there every night. Sometimes, provided there were no bone-grubbers on duty, I would steal into the abandoned library and take a stack of books back to the archway. They had so many illegal novels in there, I started to wonder if this was where Scion sent them all. Jax would have sold his soul to get his mitts on them. If he had a soul to sell.

Four nights had passed since the bloodletting. I still didn’t understand why I’d helped him. What sort of dirty trick was he playing? The thought of my blood inside him made me sick. I couldn’t stand to think of what I’d done.

The window was ajar. I’d hear them if they came for me. I wouldn’t let them sneak up on me, like they had in I-5. I’d discovered a book called The Turn of the Screw, hidden among the bookshelves. The rain was heavy; I had elected to stay indoors, in the library. I lay prone under a desk and lit a little oil lamp to see the pages. Outside, the Broad was quiet. Most of the harlies were starting to practice for the bicentennial celebration. Rumor had it that the Grand Inquisitor himself was due to attend. He had to be impressed by how we were spending our new lives, or he might not allow the special arrangement to continue. Not that he had much choice. Still, we had to show that we were useful, if only for entertainment. That we were worth a little more than it would cost to give us NiteKind.

I took out the envelope David had given me. Inside was a fragment of text from a notebook, torn and yellowed. I’d studied it several times. It looked as if a candle had fallen on it: the corners were hard with wax, and a large hole had been burned right through the middle. There was a blurred sketch in the corner of the page, something that must once have been a face, but now looked faded and disfigured. I could only make out the occasional word.

Rephaim are—– creatures. In the—– called—– within—– boundaries of—– able—– limitless periods of time, but—– new form, that—– hunger, uncontrollable and—– energy surrounding the purported—– red flower, the—– sole method—– nature of the—– and only then can—–

I tried yet again to thread the words together, to find some kind of pattern. It wasn’t difficult to link the fragments about hunger and energy, but I couldn’t think of what red flower could mean.

There was something else in the envelope, too. A faded daguerreotype. The date 1842 had been scrawled on the corner. I looked at it for a long time, but I couldn’t make anything out but white smears on black. I tucked the envelope back into my tunic and nibbled on a bit of stale toke. When my eyes grew tired, I blew out the oil lamp and wrapped myself into the fetal position.

My mind was a tangle of loose ends. Warden and his injuries. Pleione bringing him Seb’s blood. David and his interest in my welfare. And Nashira, with her all-seeing eyes.

I forced myself to think only of Warden. I still tasted bile when I thought of Seb’s blood, bottled and labeled, ready for consumption. I hoped they’d taken it when he was still alive, not from his dead body. Then there was Pleione. She had brought him the blood; she must have known he was going to contract necrosis, or at least that he might contract it. She must have arranged to bring him human blood before it was too late. When she’d been delayed, he’d drunk my blood instead. Whatever he was doing, he was doing it in her confidence.

Warden had a secret. So did I. I was hiding my link to the underworld, one that Nashira no doubt wanted to root out. I could live with his silence if he could live with mine.

I traced my bandaged arm. Still the wound refused to heal. To me it was as ugly as the brand. If it scarred, I would never forget the shame and fear I’d felt when I did it. So much like the fear I felt the first time I encountered the spirit world. Fear of what I was. What I could be.

I must have drifted off. A sharp pain in my cheek brought me back to reality.

“Paige!”

Liss was shaking me. My eyes were raw and puffy.

“Paige, what the hell are you doing in here? It’s past dawn. There are bone-grubbers out looking for you.”

I looked up, groggy. “Why?”

“Because the Warden told them to look for you. You were supposed to be at Magdalen an hour ago.”

She was right: the sky was turning gold. Liss pulled me to my feet. “You’re lucky they didn’t find you in here. It’s forbidden.”

“How did you find me?”

“I used to come in here myself.” She grasped my shoulders, looked me dead in the eyes. “You have to beg the Warden’s forgiveness. If you beg, he might not punish you.”

I almost laughed. “Beg?”

“It’s the only way.”

“I won’t beg him for anything.”

“He’ll beat you.”

“I still won’t beg. They’ll have to take me to him.” I glanced out of the window. “Will you get in trouble if they find me in your crib?”

“Better that than they find you in here.” She grabbed my wrist. “Come on. They’ll search in here soon.”

I kicked the oil lamp and the book under a shelf, hiding the evidence. We ran down the dark stone staircase, back into the open. The air smelled crisp, like rain.

Liss held me back until the coast was clear. We slipped through the courtyard, under the damp archway, and back onto the Broad. The sun shone over the buildings. Liss forced two loose plywood panels apart, and we ducked into the Rookery. She steered me past huddles of performers. Their scavenged possessions littered the passages, as if their shacks had been overturned. One boy was propped against the wall, bleeding from the eyes. They whispered in our wake.

I ducked into the crib. Julian was waiting, a bowl of skilly balanced on his knee. He looked up when we ducked into the shack.

“Morning.”

I sat. “Glad to see me?”

“I s’pose.” He gave me a smile. “If only to remind me how urgently I need to find an alarm clock.”

“Shouldn’t you be inside?”

“I was just about to go, but now you’re here I’d feel like I was missing the party.”

“You two!” Liss glared at us. “They take the curfew very seriously, Jules. You’re both going to get a right slating.”

I ran my fingers through my damp hair. “How long until they find us?”

“Not long. They’ll check the rooms again soon.” She sat down. “Why don’t you just go?”

Every muscle in her body was locked. “It’s fine, Liss,” I said. “I’ll take the heat.”

“The bone-grubbers are brutal. They won’t listen. And I’m telling you now, the Warden will kill you if you—”

“I don’t care about him.” Liss rested her head in her hand. I looked back at Julian. His novice’s outfit was gone, replaced by a pink tunic. “What did you have to do?”

“Nashira asked me what I was,” he said. “I said I was a palmist, but it was obvious I couldn’t make anything of her hands. She brought an amaurotic into the room, a girl, and had her tied to a chair. I remembered Seb and asked if she’d let me use water as a scrying pool.”

“You’re a hydromancer?”

“No, but I don’t want her to know what I am. It was just the first thing that came into my head.” He rubbed his head. “She filled a golden bowl and told me to look for somebody named Antoinette Carter.”

I frowned. Antoinette Carter had been an Irish celebrity in the early forties. I recalled her as middle-aged and thin, as frail as she was enigmatic. She had a TV show, Toni’s Truths, which broadcast every Thursday night. She would touch people’s hands and claim to see their futures, sounding them out in her deep, measured voice. The show was canceled after the Incursion of 2046, when Scion had taken Ireland, and Carter had gone into hiding. She still ran an illegal pamphlet, Stingy Jack, which spoke out against Scion’s atrocities.

For reasons unknown to us, Jaxon had asked a screever called Leon—an expert in sending messages outside Scion—to make contact with her. I’d never heard the outcome. Leon was a good screever, but it took time to bypass Scion’s security systems.

“She’s a fugitive,” I said. “She used to live in Ireland.”

“Well, she’s not in Ireland now.”

“What did you see?” I didn’t like the look on his face. “What did you tell her?”

“You’re not going to be happy.” When he saw my expression, he sighed. “I said I’d seen the sundials. I remembered Carl said he’d scried them, and I thought it was believable if I repeated what he’d said.”

I looked away. Nashira was searching for Jaxon. Sooner or later she’d work out where those dials were.

“I’m sorry. I could have kicked myself.” Julian rubbed his forehead. “Why are the sundials so important?”

“I can’t tell you. I’m sorry. But whatever happens”—I glanced at the entrance to the shack—“Nashira must never hear of those sundials again. It will put some friends of mine in danger.”

Liss pulled a blanket around her shoulders. “Paige,” she said, “I think your friends have been trying to contact you.”

“What do you mean?”

“Gomeisa took me to the Castle for a while.” Her expression grew stiff. “I was in my cell, sorting through my deck for his reading, when I was drawn toward the Hanged Man. When I picked it up, it was inverted. I saw the æther. The face of a man. He reminded me of snow.”

Nick. Soothsayers always said that about Nick when they saw him, that he was like snow. “What did he send?”

“A picture of a phone. I think he’s trying to find out where you are.”

A phone. Of course—he didn’t know where I was. The gang didn’t know I’d been taken by Scion, though they must have smelled a rat by now. Nick wanted me to call him, to tell him I was all right.

It must have taken him days to find the right path through the æther. If he tried again, with a séance, he might be able to send me a message. I couldn’t work out why he’d sent it to Liss. He knew my aura; it should have been far easier to find. Maybe it was the pills, or some kind of interference from the Rephs—but it didn’t matter. He’d tried to reach me. He wouldn’t give up.

Julian’s voice broke through my thoughts: “You really know other jumpers, Paige?” When I looked at him, he shrugged. “I thought the seventh order was the rarest.”

Jumpers. A loaded word. An order of voyants, like soothsayers and augurs. It was the category into which I fell: those voyants that could affect or enter the æther. Jax had started the great separation of voyants in the thirties, when he was about my age. It started with On the Merits of Unnaturalness, which had spread like a plague through the voyant underworld. In it, he’d identified seven orders of clairvoyance: soothsayers, augurs, mediums, sensors, furies, guardians, and jumpers. The latter three, he’d written, were vastly superior to the others. It was a novel way of looking at clairvoyance, which had never previously been categorized—but the “lower” orders hadn’t reacted well to it. The resulting gang wars had lasted two bloody years. Jax’s publishers had finally withdrawn the pamphlet, but the grudges lingered.

“Yes,” I said. “Just one. He’s an oracle.”

“You must be pretty high up in the syndicate.”

“Quite high up.”

Liss ladled a bowl of skilly for me. If she had an opinion on the pamphlet, she didn’t voice it. “Jules,” she said, “could I have a few minutes with Paige?”

“Of course,” Julian said. “I’ll keep an eye out for the reds.”

He left the shack. Liss looked at the stove. “What’s wrong?” I said. She drew the blanket closer.

“Paige,” she said, “I’m scared for you.”

“Why?”

“I just have a bad feeling about the celebration—you know, the Bicentenary. I may not be an oracle, but I see things.” She took out her deck. “Will you let me do your reading? I get the urge to read certain people.”

I hesitated. I’d only ever used cards for tarocchi. “If you want.”

“Thanks.” She placed the deck between us. “Have you had your signs read before? By a soothsayer or an augur?”

“No.” I’d been asked many times if I wanted a reading, but I’d never been convinced that peeking into the future was a good idea. Nick sometimes gave me hints, but I usually didn’t let him elaborate.

“Okay. Give me your hand.”

I held out my right hand. Liss grasped it. An expression of intense concentration took over her face as her fingers dipped into the deck. She removed seven cards and placed them facedown on the floor.

“I use the ellipse spread. I read your aura, then pick out seven cards and interpret them. Not all broadsiders will give you the same interpretation of a particular card, so don’t be too pissed off if you hear something you don’t like.” She released my hand. “The first one will indicate your past. I’ll see part of your memories.”

“You see memories?”

Liss allowed herself a faint smile. This was something she still took pride in. “Card-readers may use objects, but we don’t really fit into any category. Even On the Merits acknowledged it. I see that as a good thing.”

She turned over the first card. “Five of Cups,” she said. Her eyes closed. “You lost something when you were very small. There’s a man with auburn hair. It’s his cups that are spilled.”

“My father,” I said.

“Yes. You’re standing behind him, speaking to him. He doesn’t answer. He stares at a picture.” Without opening her eyes, Liss flipped the next card. It was upside down. “This is the present,” she said. “King of Wands, inverted.” Her red lips pursed. “He controls you. Even now, you can’t escape his hold.”

“Warden?”

“I don’t think so. Still, he has power. His expectations of you are too high. You’re afraid of him.”

Jaxon.

“Next is the future.” Liss turned the card. She drew in a sharp breath. “The Devil. This card represents a force of hopelessness, restriction, fear—but you’ve given into it yourself. There’s a shadow that the Devil represents, but I can’t see its face. Whatever power this person will have over you, you will be able to escape it. They’ll make you think you’re tied to them forever, but you won’t be. You’ll just think you are.”

“Do you mean a partner?” My chest was cold. “A boyfriend? Or is that Warden?”

“It could be. I don’t know.” She forced a smile. “Don’t worry. The next card will tell you what to do when the time comes.”

I looked down at the fourth card.

“The Lovers?”

“Yes.” Her voice had dropped to a monotone. “I can’t see much. There’s tension between spirit and flesh. Too much.” Her fingers crept toward the next card. “External influences.”

I didn’t know if I could take much more. So far only one thing had been positive, and even then it was going to be painful. But I certainly hadn’t expected the Lovers.

“Death, inverted. Death is a normal card for voyants. Usually it appears in the past or present positions. But here, inverted—I’m not sure.” Her eyes flickered beneath their lids. “This far ahead, my sight gets hazy. Things are vague. I know the world will change around you, and you’ll do everything in your power to resist it. Death itself will work in different ways. By delaying the change, you’ll prolong your own suffering.

“The sixth card. Your hopes and fears.” She picked it up, ran her thumb over it. “Eight of Swords.”

The card showed a woman, bound in a circle of upturned swords. She wore a blindfold. Liss’s skin glowed with sweat. “I can see you. You’re afraid.” Her voice trembled. “I can see your face. You can’t move in any direction. You can stay in one place, trapped, or feel the pain of the swords.”

This had to be the most negative spread of cards she’d ever seen. I couldn’t stand to see the last card.

“And the final outcome.” Liss reached for the last card in the spread. “The conclusion of the others.”

I closed my eyes. The æther trembled.

I never saw the card. Three people burst into the shack, startling Liss. The bone-grubbers had found me.

“Well, well, well! Looks like we’ve sniffed out the fugitive. And her abetter.” One of them seized Liss by the wrist, yanking her to her feet. “Card-reading for your guest?”

“I was just—”

“You were just using the æther. Privately.” This voice was female, spiteful. “You only read for your keeper, 1.”

I stood. “I think I’m the one you want.”

All three of them turned to look at me. The girl looked a little older than me, with long, ragged hair and a prominent brow. The two young men looked so similar they could only be brothers.

“True. You are the one we want.” The taller of the boys pushed Liss away. “You going to come quietly, 40?”

“Depends where you want to take me,” I said.

“Magdalen, you bleached mort. It’s past dawn.”

“I’ll walk.”

“We’re escorting you. It’s orders.” The girl gave me a really foul look. “You’ve broken the rules.”

“Are you going to stop me?”

Liss shook her head, but I ignored her. I stared the girl out. Her teeth clenched together.

“Do the honors, 16.”

16 was the shorter of the two men, but he was burly. He reached out and grabbed my wrist. Quick as a flash, I twisted my arm to the right. His fingers and thumb slipped apart. I jabbed my fist into the hollow of his throat, pushing him into his brother.

“I said I’ll walk.”

16 clutched his throat. The other man lunged at me. I ducked his arm, swung my leg up, kicked his exposed stomach. My boot sank into soft fat, winding him. The girl took me by surprise: she grabbed a handful of my hair and pulled. My head crashed into the metal wall. 16 wheezed with laughter as his brother pinned me to the ground.

“I think you need to learn some respect,” he said. He clapped a hand over my mouth, panting. “Your keeper won’t mind if I give you a quick lesson. It’s not like he’s ever around.”

His free hand groped my chest. He was counting on easy prey, a helpless girl. Not on a mollisher. I cracked my forehead straight into his nose. He cursed. The girl grabbed my arms. I bit her wrist, and she shrieked. “You little haybag!”

“Get off her, Kathryn!” Liss grabbed her by the tunic, hauling her off me. “What happened to you? Has Kraz made you that cruel?”

“I grew up. I don’t want to be like you, living in my own filth.” Kathryn spat at her. “You’re pathetic. Pathetic harlie scum.”

My assailant was sporting an impressive nosebleed, but he wasn’t giving up. His blood dripped onto my face. He yanked my tunic, bursting a seam. I shoved at his chest, my spirit close to the bursting point. I fought the urge to attack, I fought so hard my eyes watered.

Then Julian was there. His eye was bloodshot, his cheek freshly cut. They must have reefed him just to reach the shack. His arm wrapped around the boy’s neck. “That how you grubbers get your kicks?” It was the first time I’d ever seen him angry. “You only like ’em when they struggle?”

“You’re bones, 26,” my assailant choked out. “Wait until your keeper hears about this.”

“Tell her. I dare you.”

I pulled down my tunic, hands shaking. The red raised his arms to protect himself. Julian socked him in the jaw with a single, brutal uppercut. Blood spattered the boy’s tunic, staining it a shade darker. A chip of tooth slipped from his mouth.

Kathryn lashed out. The back of her hand caught Liss’s cheek, jolting a cry from her lips. The cry startled me. It was Seb’s cry, all over again—but this time, it wasn’t too late. I pushed myself off the floor, intending to tackle Kathryn, but 16 took me down at the waist. He was a medium, but he wasn’t using spirits. He wanted blood.

“Suhail,” he roared.

The commotion had attracted a group of harlies. A white-jacket stood among them. I recognized him: the boy with cornrows, the julker. “Get Suhail, you little tooler,” Kathryn burst out. She had Liss by the hair. “Get him, now!”

The boy stood still. He had large, dark eyes with long lashes. Neither of them were infected now. I shook my head at him.

“No,” he said.

16 let out a bellow. “Traitor!”

Some of the performers fled from the word. As I shoved at 16, my skin ran with sweat under my tunic. There was a glow on the edge of my vision.

The stove. I stared at the flames creeping along the boards.

Liss struggled free from Kathryn’s grasp. She pushed at 16. Julian dragged him away from us.

A thin haze of smoke filled the shack. Liss started to gather her cards, her fingers scraping the deck back together. Kathryn pushed her head down, keeping her still. A muffled scream escaped her.

“Hey, look.” Kathryn held out a card to me. “I think this one’s for you, XX-40.”

The image showed a man lying on his front, staked by ten swords. Liss tried to take it back. “No! That wasn’t the—”

“Shut your trap!” Kathryn pinned her down. I struggled against 16, but he had me in a headlock. “Useless shitsayer bitch. You think you’ve got a hard life? You think it’s so hard to dance for them while we’re out there getting eaten alive by the Buzzers?”

“You didn’t have to go back, Kathy—”

“Shut up!” Kathryn slammed her head into the floor. She was too angry to care about the fire. “Every night I’m out in the woods watching people get their arms torn off, all to stop the Emim getting in here and ripping your worthless throat out. All so you can sit on your nancy and play with cards and ribbons. I’ll never be like you again, you hear me? The Rephs saw MORE in me!”

Julian hauled 16 outside. I made a grab for the cards, but Kathryn got there first. “Good idea, 40,” she said, almost hysterical with anger. “Let’s teach this yellow-jacket scum a lesson.”

She threw the whole deck onto the fire.

The outcome was instant. Liss let out an awful, gut-wrenching scream. I’d never heard a human being make such a sound. My hair stood on end. The cards burned up like dry leaves. She tried to grab one but I caught her wrist. “It’s too late, Liss!”

But she wouldn’t listen. She plunged her fingers into the fire, choking “no, no,’’ over and over.

With little fuel but the spilled paraffin, the fire soon went out. Liss was left on her knees, with shiny red hands, staring at the scorched remains. Her face was tinged with gray, her lips with purple. She choked out brokenhearted sobs, rocking on her heels. I cradled her against me, staring numbly at the fire. Her small body heaved.

Without her cards, Liss could no longer connect with the æther. She would have to be strong to survive the shock.

Kathryn grabbed my shoulder. “That wouldn’t have happened if you’d come with us.” She wiped her bloody nose. “Get up.”

I looked at Kathryn and pushed the barest edge of my spirit against her mind. She cringed away from me.

“Stay back,” I said.

The smoke burned my eyes, but I didn’t look away. Kathryn tried to laugh, but her nose was starting to bleed. “You’re a freak. What are you, some sort of fury?”

“Furies can’t affect the æther.”

She stopped laughing.

A muffled scream came from outside. Suhail shoved his way into the shack, past the terrified performers. He took it all in: the smoke, the disarray. Kathryn dropped to one knee and bowed her head.

I stood very still. Suhail reached out a hand, grabbed me by the hair, and wrenched my face against his. “You,” he said, “are going to die today.”

His eyes turned red.

That’s when I knew he meant it.