Caldera hit the Play button. Vehicles began to travel back and forth on the main road, cars mixed with the occasional lorry or bus. A few pedestrians were scattered along the pavement. As we watched, a figure appeared at the bottom right corner, running from the direction Caldera had pointed out. He darted out across the road, forcing cars to brake to avoid hitting him. The figure didn’t stop but kept going to the far pavement, then headed southwest towards the big overpass. A few pedestrians had turned their heads to watch.
“In a hurry, isn’t he?” I said.
“Yep,” Caldera said. “999 call was at seven-oh-four, and that spot’s about two minutes’ run from the station. Could have come from somewhere else, but that street’s mostly a dead end.”
“You think he was the one who made the call?”
“Nah.” Caldera pointed to the screen; the figure was disappearing down the road, and the time stamp had clicked over to 7:04. “Call would have been made by now. Besides, the one who called in was a woman. That’s a boy.”
“It is?”
“Early teens, maybe younger.”
The figure just looked like a grey outline to me, but then I don’t spend long periods of time studying CCTV footage. Caldera rewound the video and again we watched the figure dash across the road. “He’s running pretty blind,” I said.
“He’s running from something,” Caldera said. “Look. After the car brakes, see how he turns his head and looks back? He’s more worried about what’s behind him.” Caldera looked thoughtful. “Wonder what got him so scared?”
“He could have been a bystander?”
“Timing’s a little off for that. Besides, remember what your friend Xiaofan said? Second-to-last owner was a boy.”
I raised an eyebrow. “Thought you didn’t believe her?”
“Didn’t say that, did I?” Caldera said. “Have another look at the Thursday footage and see if you can find any trace of this kid. Oh, and while you’re up, get us a coffee.”
“I’m not your secretary, you know.”
“Uh-huh.”
I rolled my eyes and went out into the corridor. Even though it was a Saturday night, I could hear movement from elsewhere in the building. An office after working hours has a different feel from one during the daytime: there’s a kind of energy you don’t get when everyone is just doing their nine-to-five. It’s not the sort of environment where you can really relax, but there’s a weird sense of camaraderie.
Haken was at the coffee machine. The last time I’d seen him had been at Red’s, on Thursday night: he hadn’t looked so tired back then. “You’re working late,” I said.
“Oh, hey, Verus,” Haken said. “Yeah. This bloody missing-persons case.”
“I keep hearing about that.” I opened the fridge and glanced through for milk. “Who are you guys looking for?”
“You know that Council mage, Nirvathis?”
“Vaguely. Is he the one who’s got his eyes on that Junior Council seat that’ll go to the Dark mages if . . . ?”
“Yeah, him. Well, his ex-apprentice did a vanishing act. So now he’s accusing the Dark mages, and the Crusaders have jumped on it from one side and the Unitarians from the other and it’s a giant bloody mess.” Haken sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. “We’ve got four different factions riding us and they all want us to solve the case, except they all want us to solve it different ways, so they’re calling for reports every hour. Everyone’s had their leave cancelled and we’re spending more time answering calls than we are actually working. Total balls-up.”
“Guess that explains why we’re not getting any help.”
“Yeah, sorry about that. You two are going to be on your own for a few days.” Haken yawned. “How’s it going anyway?”
I shrugged. “We IDed the guy. No idea if we’ll catch him.”
“You figured out why he was after you?”
We know that already. I opened my mouth to say that the assassin had been after the focus I’d picked up, then something made me change my mind. That last thing Landis had said to me . . . “Not really.”
“Well, keep at it.” Haken walked out.
The coffeepot was empty, so I had to make a fresh batch. When I was done I took the mug and headed back to Caldera’s office. The corridor was deserted but I could hear the sound of voices coming from the open door: Caldera and Haken. As I approached the doorway I saw Haken walk out.
I went back into the office. Caldera was still in her chair, and I set the mug down on her desk. “Nice one,” she said without looking up.
“What did Haken want?”
“Oh, just being nosy,” Caldera said. “His guy went missing around the time we got that call-in, so he was checking to see if the cases might be connected.”
“You think they are?”
Caldera shrugged. “Suppose they could be.”
“You told him about the focus?”
“Uh-huh.”
Something was nagging at the back of my mind: a little seed of unease. It might be nothing, but . . . “Do you mind if I knock off? I’m still not a hundred percent.”
“Sure. Go get some rest.”
I headed for the door. “Oh,” Caldera said after me, “put that focus in storage before you go home, okay?”
“Okay.”
I took a train to Hampstead Heath and met up with an old friend. We talked a while, and I left the focus there before gating back to my shop. The focus was being stored somewhere safe, and I’d put it there before going home, so I’d done what Caldera had told me to do . . . technically.
I knew that I was playing with fire, doing this. Obeying the letter of Caldera’s orders but not the spirit was something I’d done a few too many times already, and I’d discovered from experience that it really pissed her off. But I had the feeling that it might be a good idea to be prepared. If things went well, what I’d just done would be irrelevant and no one would really care. But if things went badly . . . then I’d be glad I’d taken the precaution.
The gate closed behind me, leaving me in the darkness of my shop storeroom, and I sagged in sudden exhaustion, catching myself on a set of shelves. Operating a gate stone is difficult for me—my magic is very bad at affecting the physical world—and it had been a long day.
The doorbell rang.
I held still. The echoes died away, fading into silence, and the shop was dark and quiet again. It was nine o’clock on a Saturday night. Who was calling at this hour?
I looked ahead. The caller was a woman, and she was outside the door, waiting. I filtered the futures, searching for danger. Nothing that I could see. I changed my focus, looking to see how she would introduce herself . . .
. . . oh.
I forgot all about her, didn’t I?
I checked my one-shots, touched the hilt of the knife under my coat. I didn’t really want to answer the door. But I’d invited her—had it only been last night?—and it was too late for second thoughts. I walked out into my shop. Neon light glowed from the street outside, slits of it passing through the security shutters to cast strips of orange across the counters and shelves. Out in the road, a car rumbled by, making the shadows flicker. I opened the front door.
The woman outside was a little below average height, with light brown skin and dark eyes. Her hair was black and shoulder length, blending into her black coat so that only her face stood out in the darkness. “Mage Verus?”
“And you would be . . . ?”
“Chalice.” She held out a hand. “Pleased to meet you.”
I checked with my magesight: no active spells that I could see. I shook her hand. “That’s right. Good to meet you.”
“You aren’t too busy? I know it’s late.”
I looked back at Chalice. A Dark mage . . . and Luna’s prospective teacher. “No, it’s fine.” I smiled. “Why don’t you come in?”