Like many British people, I know a lot about the city I grew up in, but I’ve got only a hazy grasp of the rest of the country. London is my home, and here, in England’s far southwest, I felt as uneasy as an animal outside its native territory. I found myself wishing that the gate stone wouldn’t work and that I’d be able to go back to Morden, but somehow I didn’t think that was going to happen. There were no doors on the street side of the school, and I circled around.
The front of the building didn’t look so well preserved. Some of the lower windows had been knocked out, green mould was creeping up one of the inside corners, and I could see black scorch marks around the outbuildings which suggested a fire. The gates were locked, but they weren’t tall, and I vaulted over to see that the main doors were boarded up. Graffiti covered every surface and I could see security cameras watching the doors and windows. A brief glance through the futures confirmed that they weren’t just for show; if I got spotted, the police would be here within thirty minutes. I wondered why they were so determined to chase people away.
Of course, Vihaela wouldn’t care if the police were guarding the outside. She could just gate straight in. I could have done the same, if I were an elemental mage.
I sighed and pulled out my burglary tools. Sometimes being a diviner feels a lot like being a small-time criminal.
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The inside of the school hadn’t aged as well as the outside. Paint was flaking onto the floor, cracks were showing through the walls, and broken building supplies and children’s toys were scattered on filthy tables; the only light was the gleams of sunlight through the dirty windows, and the air smelt of rot and damp. I checked whether I was close enough for the gate stone to work, and then took it out, a long splinter of petrified wood. I’ve become a lot better with gate stones than I used to be. The air shimmered and coalesced into a black vertical oval, and I stepped through, letting the portal close behind me.
I was standing on a floor of black stone. Dim lights shone from crevices, illuminating a bare and starkly furnished room. The air tasted different, and there was one person standing in front of me, a child. One other thing I noticed: the sounds of the city were gone. I was in Vihaela’s shadow realm, and all around me was silence.
The child was a boy, maybe twelve or thirteen, thin and black-haired, with darting, nervous eyes. “Welcome, Mage Verus,” he said in a high voice. “Is there anything you need?”
“You can drop the ‘Mage Verus’ stuff,” I said. I tried to make my voice reassuring; I’d already seen the boy wasn’t a threat. “I’m guessing you’re here to take me to Vihaela?”
The boy bobbed his head but didn’t meet my eyes. “What’s your name?” I asked.
“Luke.”
“Okay, Luke,” I said. “Lead on.”
Luke didn’t move. He glanced behind me, then down at the floor.
“What’s wrong?”
“Mage—is anyone else coming?”
“Just me.”
Luke flinched and I looked at him. “Is there a problem?”
Luke licked his lips. “Mistress Vihaela said to expect two.”
“Mistress Vihaela was mistaken.”
Luke darted a glance up at my face, then looked behind me again as if hoping that the second guest might appear if he waited long enough.
“We probably shouldn’t keep her waiting,” I said.
Luke jumped and gave me a frightened glance. I’d expected that to get a response, but not one so strong. “It’s this way. Please.” He didn’t quite say hurry.
Luke led me out of the room and onto a widely curving spiral staircase. Our shoes rang on the stone as we climbed, echoing up and down. A window cut into the wall provided the first natural light, giving a view of decaying sandstone ruins. I wondered what the outside would be like. Shadow realms are shaped from the location they reflect in the real world, but they can grow apart given time. If this was an old one, it could have very little in common with the school.
As I climbed, I studied the back of Luke’s head, wondering who he was. He definitely wasn’t Vihaela’s Chosen or her apprentice. I hadn’t seen any futures in which he used magic, which pointed to him being a normal or a sensitive. Normally, Dark mages only allow mages or adepts into their shadow realms, but Vihaela was apparently an exception, and I had a nasty feeling that I knew why. When I’d first heard of Vihaela, she’d been a member of White Rose, an organisation that specialised in supplying sex slaves to Light mages and independents. Vihaela had been the one in charge of training new acquisitions, and her methods inspired so much fear that the Keepers had never been able to get any clear reports because her victims were too terrified of her to report anything. I wondered whether Luke was a leftover or a new acquisition, and whether there was anything I could do about it.
Another window passed by, this one showing branches and leaves. The spiral stairs kept going; apparently we were ascending the inside of a tower. From time to time, an archway to the left would lead off into a corridor. I looked into the futures in which I tried to talk to Luke and didn’t get much. He was afraid of displeasing me, but he was far more afraid of Vihaela, and he clearly didn’t dare breathe a word against her. We passed a third window, this one looking out onto a snow-swept tundra, and I wondered if I could—
I stopped short. What the hell?
The view from the window seemed to go on for miles, brown rocks poking out of patches of white snow, fading away into distant hills that rose up into mountains. Except that the last window had looked out onto a forest. What was going on?
I looked to the left, where an archway led off into a corridor. There was no trace of gate magic or dimensional warping, but . . . wait. If I moved a little farther down, I’d hear someone crying out. It was faint, but it was definitely there and it sounded like they were calling for—
“Mage Verus?”
The future splintered and turned to smoke. I looked up to see Luke giving me a nervous look. “This way, please?”
I took a last look at the archway, then turned away.
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The top of the staircase opened out onto grass. Tall trees rose up all around, their trunks dark and shadowed, and beyond them I could see ornate walls and arches. Beams of light filtered down from far above, giving glimpses of sky. A faint wind blew, stirring the leaves on the trees, but although I could sense birds and animals around us, all was quiet. This place was alive, but almost as silent as the tower beneath. Something about the whole shadow realm—the black stone and the tower and the trees—nagged at my memory, reminding me of something, but I pushed the thought away, focusing on the person waiting for us.
Vihaela was sitting at a small table and chairs beneath the trees, and I walked towards her without waiting to be told. She’d been smiling, about to make some pleasantry, but as she saw that I was alone, the smile faded. “Where’s the other?” she asked Luke.
Luke quailed. I had the feeling he was about to be the scapegoat, and I took a step forward before he could answer. “There is no other.”
Vihaela frowned. “Anne was supposed to be here.”
“She’s not.”
Vihaela looked me up and down, and there was a slow, calculating look in her eyes. “Morden promised me both of you.”