I straightened my jacket and evaluated options. I would actually be better walking down to the tube station and then finding a Way-node in the centre of town. It would take slightly longer, but would involve a lot less walking.
I turned out of the drive and set off for the station, only to have Katherine run out of the house after me. “Niall, wait!”
I turned and waited for her. “That didn’t take long. What’s the problem?”
“No problem,” she said, “but this came for you. It’s been behind the clock in the lounge for a week or so, but I didn’t have a forwarding address.” She handed me a white envelope with my name and Katherine’s address written out longhand in scrawling blue script. I turned it over and there was a serious-looking crest on the back of the envelope.
“It looked like a summons,” she said. “You haven’t been speeding again, have you?”
I slit the top of the envelope with my finger and pulled out a sheet of carefully folded heavy white notepaper. The crest was repeated on the letterhead — it gave the address as The Royal Courts of Justice, The Strand, London. The same scrawling hand had written the letter.
Dear Niall, if that really is your name.
Please forgive the unorthodox method of contacting you but I have no other way. I’ve checked the archives, and read the notes of my predecessors, and there’s no precedent for this. I got this address from Sam — you remember him, I’m sure. He said this was the last address you were known at. I hope to God it reaches you.
It’s happening again. They’ve been here, I know it. It feels wrong and there are things in places where they shouldn’t be. It shouldn’t be possible, but I swear it’s them.
“Niall?” said Katherine. “Is it bad news?”
“May I come in for a moment?” I asked her. “I’d like to use your phone.”
I followed her back to the house. Alex was holding the door half open. “What’s wrong, Dad? You look like you’ve seen a ghost.”
“May I?” I asked Katherine, nodding towards the phone in the hall.
“You can use the one in the lounge if you’d like privacy,” she said.
I stepped through to the lounge and took the sofa seat next to the telephone, opening out the letter to read the rest of it.
They don’t know I’m wise to them yet, and I’m not sure what they’re after, but they’ve been here more than once. I’m making a point of not staying after dark, but I need your help. I can’t deal with this alone. I’ve taken limited precautions, but there’s only so much I can do.
Please come,
Claire Radisson, Chief Clerk to the Queen’s Remembrancer.
Picking up the phone, I dialled the number on the letter. The phone rang twice.
“Royal Courts of Justice,” said a voice. “How can I help?”
“I’d like to speak to Claire Radisson,” I said.
“One moment, I’ll put you through.”
The phone went quiet for a moment, and then rang again. It continued ringing. Eventually the voicemail picked up. A recording started: You are through to the Queen’s Bench Division of the Royal Courts of Justice. Unfortunately there is no one available to take your call. If you would like…
Katherine watched me from the doorway as I dropped the call and pressed redial.
“Royal Courts of Justice,” said the same voice. “What can I do for you?”
“I called a moment ago,” I said, “I was trying to reach Claire Radisson in the Queen’s Bench Division. Can you tell me if she’s in today?”
“I’m afraid I can’t give out details of people’s whereabouts,” said the voice. “I can take a message if you’d like me to ask her to call you, or I can put you through to her voicemail?”
“No, it’s OK,” I said. “Thanks for your help.”
“That’s OK. Have a good day.” The call dropped and I put the phone back on its cradle.
“Would you like some tea?” asked Katherine.
“That would be nice, thanks,” I said. Katherine headed for the kitchen and was replaced by Alex in the doorway.
“What’s up,” she asked.
“Nothing, I hope. While you’re here I want you to look after your mum. No one knows you’re here, and let’s keep it that way, but take some precautions. Set wards on the doors and windows, that kind of thing.”
“Against what?” she asked.
“Unwelcome visitors,” I said, tucking the letter into the inside pocket of my jacket and moving back into the hall. Next to the stairs there was a mirror. I placed my hand on it. “Claire Radisson?” A stillness crept into the hallway, broken only by the sound of a kettle boiling from the kitchen. “Claire, are you there?”
The sound wavered in the mirror and then set up a jarring vibration so that I pulled my hand away sharply before it damaged Katherine’s mirror. “She did say she was taking precautions,” I told Alex’s enquiring look.
“Who did?”
“An old acquaintance.”
“What does she want?” she asked.
“I’m going to have to go,” I told Alex, as I went to the front door. “Give my excuses to your mum.”
“She’s making you tea,” she told me.
“You drink it.” I watched Alex made a face. “Look after each other,” I told her.
“You’re not going to start with the whole, don’t talk to strangers thing, again are you?”
“It’s good advice,” I said, “especially at the moment.” I reached out for her and she gave me a brief hug. Then I slipped out of the door and headed for the tube station at a brisk pace.
TWO
The Royal Courts of Justice has a portal entrance of pale stone on the north side of the Strand opposite the church of St Clement’s Dane. It has iron railings along the front, which are opened to allow the public inside, but if you’re fey they still make your teeth ache when you walk between them.
Joining the file of people going through the metal detectors and full-body scanners, I walked through without raising any alarm. Once past security, I strolled past the central reception confidently and mounted the steps to the first floor. I turned right at the top of the steep stairway and followed the corridor to the end. The door to Claire’s office was closed. I tried it, finding it locked. I placed my hand upon it.
“Can I help you?” The voice came from a young woman in a doorway I had passed. I let my hand drop from the door.
“I was looking for Claire Radisson,” I explained. “This is her office, isn’t it?”
“Claire isn’t here today,” said the woman. “If you’d like to make an appointment I’m sure reception can help you.”
“She asked me to come and see her,” I explained.
“She’s not there,” the woman said, bluntly.
The woman was telling the truth as she saw it. “May I leave a message for her?” I asked.
“I’m sure reception could help you with that.” She had emerged from the office and was now standing in the corridor.
“Perhaps I’ll go and ask them,” I said.
“I think that would be best,” she said.
She watched me head back towards the stairway. I took three steps down and waited out of sight for a count of thirty. Then I leaned back around the top of the stairway, finding that the woman had retreated to her office. Wrapping myself in glamour I re-entered the corridor and ghosted past her door to Claire’s office. Placing my hand on the door I felt the lock tumble. I pushed the door open and slipped inside. Being careful not to touch the inside door handle, I leaned against the door and pushed it shut with my foot.
Some time ago, Blackbird and I had returned to Claire’s office to find it booby-trapped with darkspore, the mould used by female wraithkin to consume the flesh of the unwary — at least it looked like mould. It was actually part of them, a living remnant which could consume organic material, feeding the host. If Claire said they had been here then I had every reason to be cautious.
Taking shallow breaths, I tested the air for the heavy scent of rot and decay. Edging into the room, I could see that the outer office had changed little since I’d been here last. There was a picture — modern art — that had not been here before. Claire had acquired a new office chair with a flexible mesh back, and a chrome coat-stand. The doors to the Queen’s Remembrancer’s office were closed, but I suspected that even if there were small changes in the outer office, the inner sanctum would remain as it had always been.