“What’s he playing at?” I muttered.

  “Who?” Cori looked sideways at me. “You-know-who isn’t a necromancer.”

  “We can say his name, he’s not Voldemort,” said Will. “Malkin has clearly been busy. Apparently he’s decided to take up necromancy as his new hobby.”

  “But non-necromancers can’t make ritualistic circles work,” said Becks. “Can they?”

  “No,” Will said. “Anyone can draw a circle, but the hunters wouldn’t know the difference between a ritual sacrificing circle and a witch’s spell circle designed to turn you into a frog. It’s too detailed to have come from one of them.”

  “We already know they’ve worked with witches and gargoyles,” said Becks.

  “All of this district’s necromancers are accounted for,” said Lord Smyth. “However, reports are slow to come in from other regions. Their current task is to clear the Underground of undead, so sometimes they spend several days down there at a time.”

  “Nobody else could have done it,” I said. “Unless there’s a necromancer amongst their ranks, which seems unlikely.”

  “Well, someone’s breaking the rules,” Will said. “That’s no witch spell, and it can’t be an accident, either. You don’t accidentally summon up a bloodthirsty spirit.”

  “Is that what the spell is for?” asked a mage. “You seem to know a lot about it, young man.”

  “I’m a witch, not a necromancer. I’m not surprised one of them’s gone rogue. When you fuck around with spirits, it’s never good news.”

  The mages eyed Will suspiciously. I prepared to jump in on his behalf, but Kit chose that moment to bound up to the table. “There’s no glamour on them,” he announced. “Just in case you were wondering. I’d be able to see it.”

  “I gathered.” Lord Smyth moved aside. The mages acted uncertainly around the faerie, as though they weren’t quite sure what to do with him. Kit was a bundle of restless energy who asked constant questions and appeared when you least expected. He seemed to have bounced back from his encounter with the first undead, and didn’t appear bothered by the dead hunters, either. Then again, none of us were particularly sorry they were dead.

  If Malkin was screwing around with supernatural forces he didn’t understand, though, I’d rather know about it before he did something irreversible.

  “Anything else?” asked one of the other mages.

  “No,” said Lord Smyth. “I think we’re done here. The next step, naturally, is to track down the murder site.”

  “Yeah, about that,” Will said. “Necromantic summoning circles are difficult to hide. They stir up dark forces whenever they’re active. I’d say get a necromancer on the case. They’d be able to track down the site of the deaths.”

  “There are thousands of ghosts in the city, and possibly even more undead,” said Lord Smyth. “What you’re suggesting might work in a smaller place with less history, but not London.”

  “Fair point,” Will conceded. “Okay, what do you need us to do?”

  “Use a tracking spell.” Lord Smyth indicated to his assistant to hand a spell over to Will. “We’ve tried four already, but you might be able to see something we didn’t. You’ve seen more of hunters’ workings than we have, after all.”

  “I only poked around their labs a bit,” said Will. “But sure. Is this a generic spell, or for one of these dudes in particular?”

  “I think tracking the movements of one hunter will be sufficient.” Lord Smyth pointed to a clear spot on the table, where dried blood had leaked from the corpse.

  Will activated the spell, which expanded into a circle on the table, lit up in green light. The light formed glyphs which washed over his arms as he put his hands in the circle and watched whatever was on the other side. Tracking spells were imprecise and lost their effectiveness with time, but by adding the blood of the person being tracked to the spell, it enabled a witch to watch their last few moments. Even if they were no longer alive. The blood was fresh, which helped. Will waited a few seconds, then the circle collapsed into fine powder.

  “They didn’t come from the river.” Will shook bits of spell-dust off his hands. “They were dragged from somewhere underground. I didn’t see how they got there. The spell didn’t show the moment of death, either. Just these guys packed into a dark space.”

  “But where underground?” asked Becks.

  “One of our tunnels.”

  4

  “He knew,” Will said quietly as we left the mages’ place sometime later, following the tracking spell’s trail. “He already knew it’s our tunnels. He just wanted to see our reactions.”

  “Probably,” I admitted. “But come on, we’re allowed to go and investigate on our own. The freedom’s worth it.”

  “Not if we don’t find somewhere new to live,” said Cori. “They were talking about sticking me in an orphanage, seeing as I’m under eighteen.”

  I stopped walking. “What? You never said.”

  “I wasn’t gonna bring it up in front of them,” hissed Cori. “Also, they have someone following us.”

  I turned around in time to see a figure wearing a long coat slip out of sight.

  “Of course they do.” I dug my hands in my pockets, irritated for reasons I couldn’t quite put my finger on. I wanted to keep Cori safe, but handing her over to the mages did not fit that definition. I was the one who was meant to find somewhere for us to live. And I was supposed to be responsible for not getting us into any more messes involving the hunters. The mages clearly wanted her involved, whether I was with her or not. “No. You can’t go along with their plan.”

  “You didn’t think I’d say yes?” Cori hit me in the shoulder. “You should know me better than that, Ember. I’m staying with you.”

  “Of course.” A lump rose in my throat inexplicably. Perhaps because it’d struck me again how fragile our freedom was, and how we were dependent on the mercy of people who hadn’t given a shit about us not long ago. “Does anyone think they’re not coming with us because they don’t want to get lost underground?”

  “Probably,” said Will.

  “Question is, how did the bodies get there?” asked Becks. “This seems suspiciously like someone’s trying to frame us again.”

  “Tracking spells don’t lie,” Will said. “I think the guy I was tracking died when he was down here, a couple of hours ago. That means the sacrifice happened underground, not far from the tunnel entrance.”

  The tunnel entrance in question was one we didn’t use too often, mostly due to its proximity to the river. Because only two of us could fly—and we didn’t want to risk being spotted by the gargoyles—we walked all the way from the mages’ place to the waterfront. We were at a safe enough distance from gargoyle territory for me not to worry too much about them dive-bombing us, but the stench rolling in off the river didn’t help my nerves much. Only a few days ago, we’d fought a battle further down the river against an enemy who’d apparently melted out of existence.

  And if hunters were dying down in the tunnels, they must have come from somewhere in the city.

  We reached the tunnel entrance. Like most, it was down an alley which would go more or less unnoticed by human eyes, between two blocks of flats. “All right.” I stopped walking. “Lord Smyth gave me a torch, but we don’t want to announce ourselves if there are gargoyles down there.”

  “Let me at ‘em,” said Becks. “I’m sick of having to avoid half the city because of those bloody gargoyles.”

  “Me, too, and I’m one of them,” Will said.

  Kit gave him a puzzled look. “Really? I thought you weren’t part of a clan.”

  “I’m not,” said Will. “As a half-blood, I’d get beaten on all the time anyway. It wouldn’t be worth it. Plus they have no sense of style.”

  Kit bounded ahead. “I don’t understand why gargoyles would come down here in the dark. Don’t they like to fly?”

  “Yep, but apparently they still have a grudge against us,” I said. “I can’t smell them, though. Maybe they left this entrance alone.”

  “I can smell Unseelie fae,” Kit announced.

  “Oh, crap,” I said. “Really?” As though undead and necromancers and gargoyles weren’t bad enough on their own.

  “Not in this tunnel,” added Kit. “I’ll go ahead and warn you if I find anything.”

  He glided into the dark, glowing faintly green with faerie magic. The rest of us followed, me directly behind Cori. Becks transformed into her cat form to act as our scout. For a brief time, it was just like the old days.

  Until we heard the screaming.

  On and on, the high-pitched noise followed us through the dark, like someone being tortured. Or…

  The ghost appeared so suddenly, I tripped over my own feet as it passed through all our bodies. A horrible icy sensation trickled down my spine like someone had upended a bucket of ice over my head. Ghosts couldn’t do any physical harm—not if the veil was functioning the way it should—but sometimes they manifested as poltergeists who could throw solid objects around. This one just screamed. Over and over.

  I grabbed the salt shaker Lord Smyth had given me from my pocket. It didn’t work as well on ghosts as it did on undead, but just shaking it sent the ghost scooting away, wailing.

  “That’s one unhappy spirit.” I kept the salt shaker in hand, following Becks.

  “I thought the necromancers were meant to be exorcising the dead from this place,” said Cori.

  “There’s too many,” said Will. “Er—Kit, you okay?”

  The half-faerie had gone still. “He’s dead.”

  “Yes…?” Will sounded puzzled. “That’s kind of the condition of being a ghost.”

  “He tried to hit me,” muttered Kit. “I don’t like this.”

  “None of us do,” said Becks, turning human again. “For god’s sake, how are we meant to find anything down here?”

  “If there’s a big summoning circle with satanic rites scrawled all over it, I think we might have found our mark.”

  “Dammit, Will, this isn’t funny,” Becks said.

  Kit, however, cracked up laughing. Loudly.

  “Shush,” Becks said. “We don’t want to wake the dead.”

  “Literally,” I added. “How are you holding up, Cori?”

  “I’m fine. You’re being overprotective again.” She waved her torch around. “I don’t think there’s a summoning circle here. Will, is this definitely the right route?”

  “It was kind of dark in the vision. The dude wasn’t carrying a torch.”

  “Then who carried the bodies out?” I asked.

  “I dunno. It was too dark.”

  Becks swore as she nearly tripped over. “Are they trying to get us killed?”

  “Quite possibly,” I admitted. “I think Lord Smyth is bored with dealing with me.”

  “Tough shit,” said Becks. “Someone has to deal with…” She trailed off. “Did you hear that?”

  “Hear what?”

  My hearing was pretty good, but the tunnels carried echoes of our own footsteps which smothered any other sound.

  “Footsteps,” said Cori. “Shit. Are you sure the murderer left the tunnel?”

  “No,” said Will. “Might have gone back in.”

  “Or left something else to attack us.”

  My torchlight caught a shadow at the end of the tunnel, which rapidly lengthened and then divided in two. Three. Dragging footsteps followed, carrying a rotten stench.

  “Undead,” warned Becks. “Get your salt. I can’t see how many there are.”

  Neither could I, but the shadows kept lengthening as stumbling bodies popped up around the corner. Undead were tricky to deal with because they didn’t react to pain, and only salt could effectively take them to pieces. Even as a group, they were tough to take down. On the other hand, they had no self-awareness and could only follow simple directions. Left to their own devices, they just shambled about until they fell to pieces.

  These undead, however, carried knives. Which meant they were under the instructions of someone who was still here.

  I let my claws slide out, for all the good it’d do, and gripped the salt shaker awkwardly in one hand. Becks shook her own salt shaker near our feet, drawing a line between us and them. It wouldn’t stop them crossing, but would slow them down as they tried to avoid the salt.

  “Nice one.” Will threw a handful of salt and caught an undead full in the face. It fell down, the salt eating through the flesh remaining on its bones.

  A skittering noise came from behind us.

  “Uh,” said Cori. “Guys…”

  “Of course.” I turned on the spot as Cori’s torchlight illuminated the second group of undead rounding the corner. “Watch out, guys!”

  My first instinct: get Cori behind me, and take down the undead. My dragon’s bloodlust rose, warring with my rational mind—outright physical attacks wouldn’t do as much damage as throwing salt, but it struck me as an inefficient way of dealing with this number of enemies.

  Where’s the necromancer? Why target the hunters—and us?

  The undead sloped on towards us, and I ran to meet the back group as Will and the others hurled salt—and insults—at the front one. Salt flew from my fingertips as I kicked the first undead’s legs out from underneath it. Cori’s foot stamped down on its skeletal arm. “Dammit, Cori, you were supposed to stay back.”

  “As if. I have four weeks of fighting to catch up on.”

  I shook my head at her, and used my claws and salt in combination to take the undead apart. After checking they weren’t getting up, I ran back to the others. Will was locked in combat with an undead trying to bite his arm off, while Kit huddled behind Becks. I shook the now-empty salt shaker at the surviving undead and decapitated another. His hands continued grasping at me, and I kicked at his legs. Brittle bones snapped, but his hands kept scrabbling at the ground. Bloody persistent zombies.

  Will kicked the undead off him, into the wall. He went down in a pile of crumpled bones, and another handful of salt took care of the rest.

  “Wait,” I called after Becks, who’d run ahead. “That was an ambush. Are you sure you want to go ahead?”

  “These tunnels belong to us.”

  “I know, but…” Necromancers, especially rogue ones, were nasty business. Okay, from what I’d gathered, most weren’t talented enough to do more than raise the odd spirit, but we had a limited amount of salt between us. And plainly something not undead had killed those hunters. Sacrificial magic wasn’t in our area of expertise, except it had a big black forbidden label on top of it. Because summoning worse than a spirit had dire consequences.

  Why anyone would sacrifice hunters, though, was a mystery. Maybe it was a new initiation ritual. Malkin and co had pretty much given up pretending not to use the supernatural world when it suited them. But why use undead when they had automatons? And why sacrifice their own soldiers when their numbers were dwindling already?

  At least this was a part of the tunnels I knew, though I stuck close to Cori despite knowing it irritated her. Overprotective, was I? I’d come a hair’s breadth from losing her forever. She’d grumble at me, but she understood.

  One lone undead and a lot of twists and turns later, we found ourselves near the tunnel underneath the road which had once been our hideout and sanctuary. No signs of anyone, dead or living, and no signs of necromantic mischief either. Will paused by the tunnel exit which led into Magic Avenue.

  “Want to take a look?” I asked Will.

  “Nah, Carter’s old house is just outside. But the basement…”

  “Okay. We’ll check the basement.” The next tunnel exit wasn’t far, and led underneath Will’s old shop—the one the hunters had wrecked.

  “It’d be just like the hunters to set up a summoning circle in my house.” Will stepped forwards, leading the way.

  “Your house?” asked Kit.

  “Shop, technically,” said Will. “And if the mages do let us go, we’ll have to move back here, because it’s the only non-compromised shelter we have.”

  “Because it was torn to pieces by hunters,” added Becks. “The place is cursed with bad luck.”

  “It’s go back, or stay with the Mage Lords forever,” I said.

  “I don’t think they want us to stay with them,” said Becks. “They’re not checking up on us, are they? Didn’t give us a hand in the fight with the undead.”

  “True, but they have eyes everywhere.” I sighed. “And my notebook. Lord Smyth promised to give it me back.”

  “Oh,” said Cori. “Why does he have it? It doesn’t mean anything to him.”

  “I know. That’s why he’s…” I stopped. A rattling sounded on the other side of the basement door. “Oh, hell. There’s someone else in there.”

  “Or something,” Will said grimly. “Come on. It’s my house. I can throw out squatters if I want to.”

  “I’m more worried about evil faeries or hunters,” said Becks.

  “Or undead,” Cori added, dubiously shining her torch onto the door. Another scraping noise sounded.

  “On three.” Will braced himself against the door. “One, two—”

  The door sprang open, and someone slammed into our group. Cori fell on top of me, dropping the torch, which spun in wild circles. A man holding a knife stood over us, wearing dark clothes and with longish chestnut brown hair and green eyes…

  “Astor?” I gasped.

  Cori picked up the torch and shone it into his face. “Get out of here,” she warned. “This is our house.”

  Astor scowled. “You’re the ones who abandoned it.”

  “Shit, it’s actually him,” said Will.

  “Dammit, Astor, you scared me half to death.” I stepped back, checking Cori was okay. She looked at Astor with a distrustful expression on her face. “What are you doing here? How are you here?”

  “If you’d let me get a word in edgeways,” Astor said, “I’ve been here since that ill-advised trip through the Moonbeam’s portal dumped me several hundred feet underground.”

  “The portal took you into the tunnels?” I blinked. “Cori, you were the one holding the Moonbeam. Any idea how that happened?”

 

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