Weaveworld

3

Suzanna stood at the end of Chariot Street and stared at the sight before her. There were too many people milling around for her to advance any further – her suspicion of uniforms had not mellowed; nor had that of Cuckoos in large numbers – but she could see dearly from where she stood that the Mooney house no longer existed. It had been razed literally to the ground, and the fire that had consumed it had spread along the row in both directions. The Scourge had come visiting in the night.

Trembling, she left the scene, and made her way to Rue Street, fearing the worst. She found there nothing she hadn’t anticipated. Mimi’s house had been gutted.

What was she to do now?; return to London and leave Cal – if he’d survived – to his own devices? She had no way of tracing him; she could only trust that somehow he’d find his way to her. Things were so damn chaotic, with the Kind spread across the country, and Cal missing, and the book?; she didn’t dare think too hard about that. She just turned her back on the ruins of Mimi’s house and walked away down Rue Street, what little store of optimism she’d possessed defeated by what she’d seen.

As she turned the corner, a kerb-crawler drew up alongside her, and a round face, wearing sun-glasses, leaned out of the window.

‘You’re going to get cold,’ he said.

‘Go to Hell,’ she told him, and quickened her step. He kept pace with her.

‘I told you to go to Hell,’ she said, throwing him a look intended to leave him limp. He slid his glasses down his nose, and stared at her. The eyes revealed beneath were bright gold.

‘Nimrod?’

‘Who else?’

Had it not been for the eyes she’d never have recognized him. His face had filled out, all but a hint of his good looks gone.

‘I need feeding,’ he said. ‘How about you?’