City of Halves (8 page)

T
he morning was icy as they walked towards the surgery. Lily pushed her hands deep into her pockets in a vain attempt to keep them warm. Bride Court was a small turning off Fleet Street, in the shadow of St Bride's Church.

Inside the surgery, it was too warm, like all doctors' surgeries. It was also busy. A woman in the corner was crying, and the counter was two deep. The receptionist, whom Lily recognised, was on the phone, and didn't look up at her immediately.
Like all doctors' receptionists
, thought Lily,
like it's an unwritten rule
.

‘I'm afraid there are no appointments for today,' the receptionist was saying into the phone, ‘and for non-urgent cases it'll be at least ten days. We're so stretched.' Then she looked up. ‘Oh, hi, Lily,' she said, looking at Regan in surprise.

‘Hi.' Lily presented the test form that had arrived in the post.

The receptionist took it, not taking her eyes from Regan.
She smiled. ‘Take a seat. The nurse will be with you shortly.'

Lily looked around. ‘It's really busy.'

‘Yes – since the new laws have come in, about the moves towards privatisation, everyone's desperate to get themselves fixed now, while it's still free.' The receptionist sounded matter-of-fact.

‘I can wait, if there's a more urgent case,' Lily offered.

‘Oh, no, you're a priority round here, you know that,' she said, and winked. ‘Take a seat.'

There was nothing in the woman's manner that was any different from usual, Lily decided. Wandering over to the green-covered plastic chairs, she sat down. Regan seated himself next to her. Only a few seconds later, a nurse in a green tunic and black trousers came out.

‘Lily Hilyard?' she asked.

Lily got up. The woman smiled at her. ‘Does your boyfriend want to come too?'

Regan got up, looking away. ‘I'll wait outside, I think,' he said. ‘It's a little warm in here for me.'

Down a corridor and through a swing door, they entered the pathology room. Lily was still bright red from embarrassment at the nurse's mistake as she took her jacket off and sat in the chair the nurse indicated to her. Lily's stomach twisted as she saw her open a new sterile needle packet.
I hate this
.

She took a deep breath and winced as the needle slipped into her vein, then watched, unable to look away from the bag on the metal stand as it filled with dark crimson blood.

‘Is that bag bigger than usual?'

The nurse looked at the form. ‘A little. Not much.'

Lily shifted uneasily on the chair. ‘I'm small and have low blood volume – you know that, don't you? I'm not sure taking more is necessary.'

‘It's just what's on the form, love.' The nurse tapped away at the keyboard of the computer, then got up and walked out. ‘I'll be back in ten minutes to check on you, okay?' Lily nodded. ‘Would you like a magazine?'

‘No. Thanks, though.'

The nurse smiled and left the room.

Dragging the metal stand with her, Lily just made it to the computer before the screen went to sleep.
No lockout
. She breathed a sigh of relief, then pulled a disgusted face.
My God, this system is based on Access. Who even uses that any more? Still, makes searching easy
.

It took her about three seconds to locate Vicky Shadbolt's records. Lily looked through them – there was nothing unusual, as far as she could see. Vicky seemed fit, healthy and perfectly normal. Pursing her lips, Lily searched for her own record. ‘Hilyard' brought up only herself and her father, but she saw that her own record was flagged. She brought it up. There was little on it apart from details of her blood type, a few childhood mishaps and the usual illnesses. Behind that there was another field, but Lily couldn't access it.

She scowled at the screen, and was about to try something else when she heard a noise outside the room. She killed the database and returned to the original screen, leaping back into her seat.

The door opened and the nurse came in. She fussed over the half-full bag. ‘How are you feeling?'

Lily nodded. ‘Fine, thank you.'

‘Good girl. Won't take long now, then you can be on your way. School today?'

‘No. We haven't gone back yet.'

‘Ah,' said the nurse, not really listening. ‘Right.'

‘Where does my blood go?' asked Lily.

‘The blood bank, dear.' The nurse looked at the computer screen, distracted.

They sat in silence until finally the nurse unrigged her and packed the blood bag into a small polystyrene coolbox. As Lily held the cotton ball to the crook of her elbow the nurse lifted the phone handset. ‘Yes. Hilyard, for collection.' She replaced the receiver and taped the cotton into Lily's elbow. ‘There, all done.'

‘Thanks,' Lily said automatically.

The nurse held out a funny-shaped red lollipop in a clear plastic packet. ‘Here. Keep your blood sugar up.'

Lily took the sweet, mumbling a thank-you. She shrugged her long-sleeved top back down to her wrist and pulled on her jacket, feeling slightly faint. On her way out she stopped in the bathroom and splashed cold water on her face before walking out through reception.

Her skin stung in the freezing air outside. She heard the distinctive exhaust of a motorcycle as it roared off from the entrance of the court, blaring out into the traffic of Fleet Street. As she reached the road, Regan was there, his long coat open and his hands in his pockets.

‘Bike courier,' he said. ‘Took a small white box.'

‘About this big?' Lily's hands made the approximate size of the box her blood had been packed into. He nodded. ‘Did you get the details of the company?'

He shook his head. ‘No details, just a symbol on the box and “Urgent Medical Supplies” written above it.'

‘A symbol? Like a logo?'

He nodded.

‘What did the courier look like?'

‘He didn't take his helmet off. My height. Dark-haired.' He looked down at her. ‘You look awful.'

She shoved her hands into her pockets. ‘Needles aren't exactly my favourite thing. And thanks.'

He shrugged. ‘Come on, I'll shout you breakfast.'

She pulled out the lollipop. ‘The nurse already gave me it.'

He rolled his eyes.

They arrived at the coffee shop in the alley ten minutes later, sliding into a booth, sitting opposite each other. A man with a briefcase was reading the paper and a young woman was working on a laptop, sipping from a thick white mug. A Wi-Fi sticker was plastered crookedly on the beam above the equally crooked counter. Tom stood behind it in a black apron, fighting with a hissing coffee machine.

Regan borrowed Lily's pen, and on a paper napkin drew the emblem he'd seen on the motorbike courier's jacket. Lily looked at the newspapers on the table, all carrying stories of the Islington riots. The streets were calmer this morning, apparently, although one building was still burning and people were being warned to stay inside.

Regan turned the napkin to her. ‘Like this.'

Tom put coffees and oozing ham-and-cheese croissants in front of them. His stubby fingers seemed to be fused into some sort of v-shaped gang sign. Lily waved back, then picked up the
greasy pastry gratefully and bit into it, making a noise of appreciation and giving Tom a thumbs-up.

He laughed. ‘You look more like a cupcake type than a fry-up sort of girl.'

‘Appearances can be deceiving,' Lily said a little gruffly.

‘Don't we know it,' Tom said to Regan, still laughing. He went back to the counter.

As he turned away, Lily blinked. ‘Tell me I didn't just see what I thought I saw.'

Regan was already eating. ‘What did you see?'

‘He has a
tail
,' Lily whispered across the table.

‘And very good hearing.'

Ignoring him, Lily whispered back, ‘What is he?'

Regan leant closer, straight-faced but enjoying the game. ‘Boggart. Domestic sprite. They're good in the kitchen.'

Lily shook her head, narrowing her eyes. ‘Nice that you're finding all this so funny.'

‘Funny? It's hilarious.'

Lily pointed to the two other people. ‘And who are they, do they know?'

Regan glanced over at them. ‘No, they're human. They don't know. They're those types who like to think they've found this secret place with great coffee that no one else knows about. Tom could clear the table with his tail and they'd still be talking to him about beans or roasts or something.' He took back the napkin and wrote down the motorbike's number plate beneath it. ‘Can you find it from that?'

‘There are data-protection issues.'

‘Meaning?'

‘Meaning prison if I get caught.'

‘Would you get caught?'

Lily took the napkin and looked at the number in his perfect copperplate handwriting. She shrugged. ‘Probably not. Worth a try, I suppose.'

‘How are you feeling?'

‘Better.'

‘So what did you find out?'

Lily put her chin in her hand. ‘I'm not sure. Vicky's records show she's perfectly normal and healthy. There was nothing on there to indicate she was anything other than human.'

‘And your record?'

‘It's flagged. That probably just means something unusual, like my blood type. There was a field too, though – a screen of information – that I couldn't get to.'

‘So what did we learn?'

‘Not much,' Lily admitted. She took a deeper breath. ‘What are you?'

‘What do you mean?'

‘I mean, you never said. Lucas and Elijah are wraiths, there are . . . banshees and bandogges apparently. Oh, and boggarts.' Lily rolled her eyes. ‘So what are you?'

‘How do you know I'm not just like you?'

Lily shook her head at him, dismissing the dodge. ‘If I half-saw you, getting off a bus or something, maybe. But not when I look right at you. Which is why you've got that trick of not really letting people see you. Whether it's the hood or whatever, they know you're there, but they just move out of your way without really
seeing
you. And let's face it, you're not exactly inconspicuous.'

‘I'm not?'

‘No.'

‘Oh. Right.' He looked surprised. ‘I'm a halfbreed.'

‘What's that?'

‘It's what I am, what this stands for,' he touched the left side of his neck. ‘My mother wasn't like my father, apparently.'

‘What do you mean, apparently?'

‘I don't really remember her that well. She was killed when I was young.'

Lily hesitated. ‘Killed?'

‘Yes. At the Rookery. The Agency abducted my brother. She was collateral damage.'

‘Collateral damage?'

He looked down and shoved his hands into his pockets. ‘Are you going to repeat everything I say?'

She shook her head.

He watched her for a moment. ‘Yeah, well, it's not done, mixing up different kinds of Eldritche. Lucas thinks we were created, because of the imbalance here, centuries ago. Like an experiment – an antidote to the Chaos, if you like. Plenty of the Eldritche think I'm just a necessary evil. Pest control through the generations,' he said sarcastically, with a flourish of his hand.

Lily swallowed. ‘What happened to your father?'

Regan picked at a scratch in the middle of the table. ‘He stuck around for a few years. But he was always looking for my brother. Or revenge. Or both. Then one night he went out and didn't come back. I went to live with Lucas and Elijah for a while, until they got sick of me creeping out and coming back half killed and covered in blood. So I came back here.' He gave her a small, unhappy smile. ‘Took up the reins.'

‘Do they mean something?' She pointed at the birds on his left hand.

He held it up a little from the table, studying the tattoo as if seeing it for the first time. ‘Do you know what they sometimes call a gathering of rooks?'

She shook her head.

‘It's called a building.'

‘Oh, like the Rookery.'

He nodded and turned his hand to her. ‘A rook for every year I've survived the Wall.'

Lily reached over and took it, holding it in both of her own, thumb pressing over his knuckles. ‘Five? You've been doing this since you were fourteen?'

He let her hold his hand, his eyes on her. ‘Yes.'

She thought about it for a moment. ‘You'll run out of space one day.'

He shook his head. ‘I won't have any more. Not now.'

‘You have got quite a lot,' she said shyly. There was a silence. Lily tucked her hands beneath her thighs. ‘Do you heal? Like you healed me?'

He nodded.

‘Anything else?' she asked finally, in a small voice.

‘Like what?' He sat back, slouching in the seat, tattooed hand flat on the table.

‘Do you get old? I mean . . .'