Page 192 of The Bone Season

‘Are you still speaking English?’

‘No,’ Nick said quietly. Every head turned towards him. ‘He’s speaking like a madman.’

After a short silence, Jaxon raised his glass. ‘An excellent diagnosis, Doctor. Cheers.’

Nick ground his jaw.

In the strained aftermath of that moment, Eliza returned with a syringe of adrenalin. With her was Danica Panic – the final member of our septet. She had grown up in the Scion Citadel of Belgrade, but transferred to London to work as an engineer. Nick had been the one to headhunt her, having spied her aura at a welcome event for new recruits from elsewhere in Scion. Fortunate that Nick had noticed her before a Vigile.

‘Come and see, my Chained Fury,’ Jaxon purred. ‘It will be quite extraordinary.’

Danica stood next to the spirits and folded her broad arms, which were pitted with scars and burns. She was solid as a brick, with crimped reddish hair, worn in a low bun. Her only soft spot was for waistcoats. When Pieter gave her a tentative nudge, she batted him away.

‘Okay,’ she said. ‘What am I looking at?’

‘My weapon.’

Her eyebrow went up. She had only been with us for a few months, but she already knew what Jaxon was like.

‘Looks like you’re having a séance,’ she observed.

‘Not today.’ Jaxon waved a hand. ‘Begin.’

I had to bite my tongue to stop myself telling him where to stick it. He always buttered up the newcomers. Danica had a spiky aura that he hadn’t been able to identify – but as usual, he was convinced she would be something valuable. No doubt she would be his next target.

Taking a deep breath, I sat down. Nick stood ready with the adrenalin.

‘Do it,’ Jaxon said softly. ‘Read the unreadable.’

‘I don’t know what you want me to do, Jax.’

‘Whatever you can.’

Zeke braced himself. I couldn’t invade his dreamscape, but its armour was so sensitive, even a nudge could hurt. I would have to be careful.

I shifted my spirit. As I tuned in to the æther, I registered all five of their dreamscapes, tinkling and shivering like wind chimes. Zeke’s rang on a darker note, a minor chord. I prepared myself to exert the lightest pressure I could.

I jolted back to myself when a hand grasped my shoulder.

‘No.’ Nick was behind me. ‘She’s not doing this, Jaxon. Unlike the others, I don’t need your money. I’ll take mine elsewhere if you don’t ease up on Zeke.’

Jaxon watched us, his eyes shooting darts of annoyance. I hovered. Nick grabbed both of our coats, put his on, and shoved the window open.

‘Come on, Paige,’ he said. ‘You’re taking a break. I’ll check on you later, Zeke.’

‘Okay,’ Zeke rasped.

I was tired to my bones, but I would never refuse Nick. Zeke sighed in relief and slumped in his chair as I donned my coat and left.

Jaxon would be fine by tomorrow, once he had slept off the hangover. I climbed out of the window and on to the drainpipe, my vision blurred.

Nick was already on the roof. As soon as I reached it, he started to run, fast and hard. I followed him.

At least once a week, Nick and I would take adérive(as Jaxon dubbed it) in the citadel. I had once hated London in winter – it was grey and stern, ruthlessly cold – but after two years of training with Nick, learning how to navigate the rooftops, the heart of Scion had become my haven. I could race like blood along its streets. I could leap over traffic, fly above the unsuspecting Vigiles. On nights like these, I was full to the brim, bursting with life.

Up here, if nowhere else, I was free.

Nick eventually dropped to the pavement. We walked along the busy road until we reached the corner of Cranbourn Street, where he assessed a grand building – a popular spot for voyants, the Old Hippodrome.

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