City of Halves (11 page)

Regan set off back the way they had come, with one last glance at the dragon. It crouched, staring down at the city through eyes like gold mirrored lenses, emotionless. It seemed to see everything, and nothing. Its barbed tongue flickered in and out.

‘Hopefully it'll stay around here for now.'

Lily waited until they left the main road for a narrow, deserted alley. She turned on him, grabbing his sleeve. ‘It's a
dragon
! In the City of London. What do you mean hopefully it'll stay around here?!'

‘I
mean
, up there, on the bank roof, and not on the streets,' he hissed back.

Lily covered her face with her fingers for a second. ‘You said the others are asleep.'

‘I don't know that. But we only saw one.'

She dropped her hands. ‘Will you talk to me? Properly. Please.'

He sighed, letting his head drop back. Lily could see the flame tattoo licking over his collarbone at the bottom of his exposed throat. ‘There are seven City dragons. One for each gate. They're a kind of Eldritche we call the Ancients. Immortal, eternal. They're totally focussed on one thing only. You cannot reason with them and they don't understand us. They only understand protecting the City. Usually, they sleep, somewhere beneath their gates. I come across them sometimes. In old water mains, crypts, tunnels, anything. They only wake when their area of London Wall, or their gate, is disturbed.'

‘The banshee?'

He shook his head. ‘No, not just that. That wouldn't be enough. But there's definitely more Chaos around than I have ever seen, and if they're focussing on one particular gate, that could have disturbed that gate's dragon.' He bit his lip, thinking. ‘They usually stick close to their own gate. My guess is this is the Bishopsgate dragon. But it could be Cripplegate's. Let's hope the Chaos doesn't disturb the others. One dragon I could probably take down, but if the rest wake it'll be carnage.' He
swore with feeling.

‘What do we do?'

‘I have absolutely no idea.'

‘Oh . . . and the Chaos War?'

Looking away, he took a breath. ‘When the City will be overrun by the Chaos. It's part of a prophecy. Made by a pair of Eldritche sisters when I was a child.'

She swallowed. ‘And it's here?'

‘Felix is a drama queen, don't listen to everything he says.' He began to walk back towards Liverpool Street. ‘Let's just keep to the plan for now.'

Lily stopped. ‘But he said I'd get broken like a twig.'

He turned to look at her. ‘Yes.'

‘Will I?'

‘Not if I have anything to do with it. Come on,' he said, his eyes sliding away from hers, ‘let's find this medic.'

B
ack in St Botolph's churchyard, they paused for a second by a tiny Victorian tiled building. It looked out of place, a cross between a miniature English church and a Middle Eastern bathhouse, all red brick and elaborate blue and green tiles. The security guard from the office building was sitting on a bench nearby, eating a burger. Two policemen strolled towards them, bursts of voices then static issuing from the radios strapped to their shoulders. Regan grabbed Lily's hand and pulled her back, into the doorway of the tiled building. An elaborately engraved brass plate on the door announced
Lilith's
.

He smacked his forehead. ‘I'm such an idiot.'

‘You are?'

‘Yes.' He tugged the metal bell pull by the door. A grille in the wood slid back and the door clicked open, then closed again. Inside stood a tall, muscular man, wearing a Middle Eastern tunic and trousers. He bowed gravely. Regan nodded to him.

Regan pulled Lily down a tiled spiral staircase. They arrived in a huge basement, outfitted as a nightclub. It too was tiled throughout in blue and green. Aggressive dubstep was playing quietly from somewhere.

The bar was all smoky mirrors, laden with bottles. A tall, pale-skinned woman in her twenties with pillar-box-red matte lipstick, her long hair elaborately braided around her head, was standing over the till writing on a pad. She wore tight leather leggings and a bright white vest. The smell of jasmine filled the air.

‘Regan!' she said, her voice filling the room. ‘What a wonderful surprise.'

‘Lilith, I need your help.'

‘How may I be of service?' Lilith asked, her voice full of amusement.

‘Girls are going missing.'

‘Then you've come with a warning? How kind, my love. But as you know, the club staff can all take care of themselves.'

‘Yes, I know that. I just wondered if you'd heard anything. Anything at all. Any trouble with the Agency?'

Lilith pulled a bottle of champagne from beneath the bar and poured three glasses. ‘Please.' She gestured for them each to take one, and took the last one herself.

She gestured to a large sofa covered in black cushions in the VIP area.
Being in a club during the day is totally weird
, Lily reflected as she perched on the edge of the sofa, glass held in both hands. Regan collapsed next to her. Lilith watched them, a smile playing on her face.

‘Nothing obvious. But there has been an – increase in interest, shall we say. From the authorities.'

‘How so?' Regan asked.

She shrugged and pouted. ‘Tax inspection, drinks licensing people. They found nothing out of place, of course. Then we were raided twice in one week a month ago. All the usual checks with permits and so on. And since then there have been a couple of . . . unwanted visitors.'

‘Meaning what? Spies?'

She laughed, a golden flurry. ‘How very melodramatic, darling. But yes.'

‘So you kicked them out?'

‘Dear Mohammed dealt with them. Permanently.' She clicked her fingers. ‘Then this appeared.' A pretty girl in jeans and a T-shirt appeared with a letter and handed it to Regan.

His eyes flicked over the paper. ‘They want papers for everyone working here.'

Lilith sighed heavily.

‘Of which, of course, there are none,' Regan explained to Lily, handing the letter back.

‘They're not . . . human?' Lily ventured.

‘Don't be absurd. I wouldn't have humans working for me. Not reliable enough. And one must take such good care of them, like houseplants.' Lilith sighed and sipped her champagne. ‘Anyway, this is all so tedious. Threatening to close me down. Again. This nonsense demand for papers is going to cost me a fortune. Is that passport faker in Hackney still on the go?'

Regan shrugged awkwardly. ‘I think he's moved. I'll find out.'

‘What was his name? Stedman?'

Lily looked over at Regan.
Hackney
.

He avoided her gaze. ‘Like I said, I'll find him.'

She smiled warmly. ‘Thank you, darling.'

They got up to leave. Lily put her untouched glass on the table.

‘Is my hospitality not to your liking?' Lilith asked, one perfect eyebrow arched.

‘Thank you, it's just that . . .' Lily stalled as Regan touched her arm.

‘Lilith's teasing, aren't you, Lilith?'

The woman smiled. ‘Of course. So, I hear this is your little
kismet
.' She examined Lily from the tips of her hair to her toes, then back up again. ‘Absolutely adorable,' she said finally. ‘She would fetch a fortune in one of Abdul's souk auctions amongst those slobbering camel traders.' She looked wistful, then cleared her throat delicately. ‘Or would have done, back in the day. But now everyone is so . . . enlightened.' She sighed.

‘Lilith,' Regan warned. ‘Let's go.'

‘All clear,' said Mohammed in his deep, booming voice as he held the door upstairs.

‘Thanks, Mohammed.'

Outside Lily took a deep breath. Regan shoved his hands in his pockets.

‘Why did we have to see her? I thought we were after that medic.'

‘Lilith has a lot of ears to the ground. And it got us off the street for just long enough for everyone to go back about their business.'

‘She called me your kismet, what does that mean?'

‘Nothing. This community are the worst gossips. Ignore it.'

‘You and her seem to know each other well.'

He cleared his throat. ‘Well enough.'

‘What does that mean?'

They came to a halt, staring at each other. ‘Nothing, only that—'

Lily walked off through the churchyard towards Liverpool Street.

He followed, looking at her curiously. ‘Are you angry?'

‘I just don't like being talked about as if I'm a piece of merchandise.' She made a frustrated noise and turned away.

He caught her up, catching her arm. ‘Wait. Are you . . . you can't be
jealous
?'

She shook her head furiously, curls bouncing. ‘You're so full of it!' She stalked off through the empty churchyard avenue towards Bishopsgate.

She hadn't made it five yards when, from her left, a woman lurched out from behind a large tomb, reaching for her. Lily leapt back, seeing the dirty, crawling clothes.

‘Don't let her touch you!' Regan yelled.

Lily stepped back, afraid to take the time even to turn and run. The woman grinned, her teeth loose and blackened where they met her gums. A bright red centipede ran out of her mouth over her chin. Lice scurried openly over her clothes. Lily flinched. The smell of rot was choking.

Regan grabbed her, hauling her backwards and throwing her halfway across the churchyard. She hit the ground and a tombstone, bruising her elbow, stones digging into her hand.

The woman stepped forward. The old man in the cap appeared, stepping out from the hawthorn hedge, scythe raised. In a neat motion he severed the woman's head. She collapsed on the grass in a heap, instantly dissolving into a
crawling mess. The old man half knelt gracefully, as if about to throw a boule in a distant French square on a sunny afternoon, and tossed his lantern on to the heap. It smashed, setting light to the heaving insects. There was a terrible hissing, screeching sound. Lily got to her feet and backed away, into Regan, who caught her arms. He nodded to the old man, who nodded seriously in return.

‘First dragons, now this. Come on,' said Regan, drawing Lily away. She looked back over her shoulder. The Breton spirit was watching the flames. Just an old man having a winter bonfire in a churchyard.

‘Things are getting out of hand. Plague demons are serious shit. They can take out whole cities if enough of them get in. I hoped I had more time.'

Lily looked down at the ground in alarm, scanning for any rogue insect. ‘I'm going to get the plague?!'

‘Not if she didn't touch you. ‘They were already in sight of the paramedic's traffic island. ‘Are you hurt?'

Lily rubbed the gravel marks from her palms and touched her elbow. ‘I'd rather you didn't throw me around quite that hard. But thanks.'

He stopped and turned to her. ‘I meant did I hurt your feelings?'

‘You need to get over yourself,' she sniffed, brushing her jeans down.

He said nothing.

She put her hands on her hips, looking at her trainers. ‘So what do we do now? About Mona.'

He bit the inside of his cheek, then checked his watch. ‘It's almost the same time exactly as she had her accident.
Hopefully, the same medic will be on the same shift.'

‘Fine.'
Seems logical
.

‘Right, so you need to pretend to be ill, or injured or something. So you can get a look at him.'

‘Me?'

‘Well it's no good me doing it, is it?'

Lily frowned. ‘I suppose. What do you want me to do, then?'

‘Pretend to faint, maybe? Can you do that?'

‘I suppose I could.'

‘Fine.'

‘What if—'

‘Don't worry. He won't take you anywhere. No one will.'

‘But what if they call an ambulance or something?'

‘I just told you, I won't let them take you away.'

‘
Then
what do we do?'

‘No idea. But at least we'll know we have the right guy.'

She hesitated, then nodded, handing over her bag before turning away and walking towards the station. The motorcycled paramedic was still sitting on the other side of the road, his helmeted gaze focussed on the traffic. When she was sure she was in his sight, Lily put her hand to her head and staggered. A young woman moved away, giving her a wide berth. She made it to the wall and slumped to her knees, before collapsing sideways on to the pavement.

For a long moment, no one came. She heard clacking high heels and smart shoes moving past her head, ignoring her. Then someone knelt down, placing a hand on her shoulder.

‘Hey there, are you all right?' A woman's voice.

Lily stirred, her eyelids flickering.

‘Can you sit up?' the woman asked. ‘She's confused,' she said
to someone as a pair of heavy boots thudded up nearby. The pavement was freezing and Lily could smell the dust on the stones, and the acrid dirt of the city.

There came another hand on her shoulder. ‘Thanks, I'll take it from here,' a man said.
Voice isn't muffled: no helmet
.

‘Hello there. Can you tell me your name?'

Lily pretended to come round a little.
What do I say?
‘Caitlin,' she mumbled.

‘Right, Caitlin. I'm Jack. Can you sit up?'

Lily let him help her sit up against the wall.

‘Thanks,' she said.

‘No problem. Just doing my job. Are you on your own?'

She looked up. He was crouched in front of her in his leathers with the high-visibility jacket over the top. He had short dark hair.
Definitely him
. Lily could not have known from the CCTV printout how kind his smile would be.

She nodded.

‘Where do you live? Can you tell me?'

‘Chiswick. I came to go to the market.'

‘Maybe another day.' He patted her shoulder and asked her a few questions. Finally he said, ‘Is there someone at home?'

Lily nodded.

‘Can you call them and tell them you're on your way?'

Wait, what if . . .?
‘I don't have my phone.'
Please, please let this work
.

He knelt down and tugged his phone from his pocket. ‘Look, I shouldn't do this, but use mine. I'll go and get you a drink. Something with lots of sugar in it. Have you had enough fluid today?'

She nodded. ‘I think so.'

‘Fine. Any preference?'

‘No – thank you, though.'

He grinned. ‘No problem. I'll be back in a minute. Don't run off.'

‘I won't.'

As he went to the booth Regan had bought their teas from earlier, Lily opened his phone and quickly searched for a specific app. She set it to install and it did so without an icon, leaving no visible trace of its presence in the phone. Then she sent herself a text to say she was on her way home because she didn't feel well. Her phone buzzed once in response inside her jacket, just as the paramedic walked back, a can of lemonade in his hand. He opened it for her and handed it over.

‘There. I shouldn't do this, but I think you're just dehydrated and I suspect you haven't eaten anything. You really need to, you know. You look a bit tired. Are you studying too hard?'

Lily shrugged. The radio on his shoulder crackled into life and a woman's voice rattled out an enquiry. Jack answered, pressing down a button on the handset's side. He listened to the response and let it go.

‘Well, Caitlin, I've got to run. Car accident on Shoreditch High Street. Do you think you can get home from here okay?'

‘Yes,' she smiled. ‘Thanks. Thanks a lot.'

He winked. ‘No problem. Just doing my job.'