Mirror of Midnight: Shadow Kingdom, #3

By Naomi Kuttner

The world has changed.

 

Ida and Anders are reeling from the events of last winter. And if a hero is going to put their world back together, well…it won't be Ivan.

Loyalties will be tested, and new bonds forged in this urban fantasy adventure.

In the concluding book of this trilogy, the friends will find out how far they'll go to save their world and each other. And whether the price is worth it...

This fast-paced YA urban fantasy is perfect for fans of Holly Black, Neil Gaiman, and Stranger Things.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Naomi
• Release date: Aug 1, 2023
• ISBN: 9798223831945

Book preview

1

I t won’t work.

Adrian crossed his arms and leaned back against the wall, giving Ida a look that made her hackles rise.

That git. Thinks he knows everything and never comes up with a solution to any problems. Ever.

Ida was gathered with three of her uncle’s men in a basement office in Soho. The bare concrete walls the estate agent had probably described as ‘minimalist chic’ were currently covered with printed plans of a certain building in Canary Wharf, London.

Where exactly do you think the problem is? said Ida. She kept the cool tone her uncle used like a weapon. He never appeared rattled or annoyed. It served him well, and she’d been practising.

Let me see, Adrian rolled his eyes. The safe - you really think it’ll take just five minutes to locate it? And you’ve allowed just eighteen minutes to crack it?

Luckily for you, said Ida sweetly, "none of these are your problems. You’ll be sitting nice and pretty in the van in the basement, waiting for us to appear with the plans. Your only job is to drive us away safely within the speed limit."

That’s probably the issue. He wants a high-speed getaway where he can play the hero. Eejit. That kind of chase usually ends badly.

Adrian settled back against the wall with a huff, giving the other two men an eye-roll as if to say, ‘can you believe this chick?’ They ignored him. Nick was a consummate professional and one of her uncle’s most trusted men. And Little Bee was a friend.

Little Bee’s also one of your uncle’s men. Never forget that.

So we’ll meet tonight at— Ida blinked. Just for a moment, the room wavered like a candle in the wind. She had the sense of vast distances between her and the doorway, a chasm opening up inside her. She clenched her jaw against a jolt of anxiety —nine pm sharp, she finished.

Dammit. Not the time to lose the plot. Ida hoped no one had seen her hesitation. Adrian was glaring over into the corner; Nick’s face was, as usual, unreadable, as was Little Bee’s.

Sure, sweetheart, said Adrian. Whatever floats your boat. He slouched out, followed by Nick.

Little Bee waited till the door closed behind the two other men. He surveyed her from his six foot five height, cheese cutter hat drawn low on his brow.

There something the matter, darlin’? His Caribbean accent was warm, and Ida relaxed a fraction.

I’m not worried about the job, she said, which was true. Having a certain amount of caution was always healthy, but Ida had planned this operation to exhaustion. I’ve covered every angle. What worries me is the lapses. They’re getting worse.

Little Bee regarded her steadily. My grandma say there’s something gone wrong in the world. Since last Christmas. Some people can feel it more than others.

Yeah, that’s probably it, Ida rubbed her forehead, trying to erase the tension there. Did she say what it was?

No. She did say it wasn’t going to fix itself. Someone going to have to fix it.

Ah. Ida didn’t ask whether Little Bee’s grandma had told him to tell her this. I don’t want to know. I’m tired of hoping. And I’m just tired. I’m fine, Bee. This time tomorrow, we can relax, get some rest, have a beer. Sound good?

Sounds peachy, darlin’. You take care now.

After Little Bee left, Ida slumped in her chair and stared into space. Ever since Ivan had done whatever it was to save it, the world had been different.

The change was subtle, but you saw it everywhere when you knew what to look for. Firstly, no one remembered what had happened. Well, almost no one. Just the people who were at ground zero when it happened.

And the world had gotten more…mundane. That was the word. Places where, in the past, you could find Wonderland, or the Night Markets, or the Traveller’s Rest had reverted back to empty car parks and junk-filled alleyways. The bridges were bare of trolls. The woods in Hampstead Heath no longer held those deeper glades where you could hear sounds from the far-off places.

Something gone wrong in the world. And since Ivan’s in an unwakeable coma, there’s not much he can do to help.

Ida had gone with Owen to the Order headquarters at Regents University. It was now a law building. She even recognised some of the Order people there, going about their studies wearing crisp white shirts and dress pants, no swords in sight.

It’s like someone shoved our world sideways into a more boring parallel reality. And I have no damn idea how to get us back. Ivan might know. But he’s gone. And I don’t know if he’ll ever wake up.

Ida squashed that thought. It had been four months since he’d fallen into what she’d come to think of as a magically induced coma. And my reality lapses are getting worse. Maybe that’s a good sign?

Owen, Anders, Amelie, and herself all had what they called ‘lapses.’ It was the shimmering of reality, the pulling apart of their normal experience of the world. And in the spaces between, the Shadow World leaked through—a vast, untamed wilderness of darkness and light, a world where everything was possible. It was a world that Ivan was inextricably linked to. A world that he’d shut off the connection to when he fell asleep.

Maybe it’s getting worse because the two worlds are pulling further apart, and there’s more stress in bridging the gap. Ida told her mind to shut it with the unhelpful comments.

There was one way to get rid of lapses. You just…gave up. Stopped trying to hold on to memories of a different reality. And after a while, it didn’t matter any more. The memories of another life faded away like a dream. You put down roots in the mundane, real world, and that was that.

Ida stared down at the operational map on the table.

On the map, her accomplices’ routes to the comms centres of the building were neatly drawn, as well as sight paths and alternate exits. In a different colour, she’d drawn the routes the security guards took on a Wednesday. It was a finely planned heist, one her uncle would be proud of. As long as you pull it off.

Her share of this heist would set her up to take the next year off and…what? Mope around London feeling sorry for myself? It’s the Shadow World I really want to break into. Find Ivan, wake him up, bring him back.

From the force of long habit, she flicked her phone onto a private app she’d designed. It showed the hidden camera she’d installed in Ivan’s hospital room and the small monitor she’d used to tap into the data from the machines monitoring his vital signs.

No change.

It was the same every time she checked. But I still keep checking.

Ida shoved her phone back into her pocket and reviewed every step of the heist again. The contingencies, the safeguards, the fallbacks, the worst-case scenarios and ‘break glass in case of emergency’ escape routes.

Her uncle’s voice sounded in her head. ‘When you’ve worked through the plan front, back, sidewards and in reverse, it’s time to push play. Just know that no plan survives contact with reality.’

With a fierce grin that bordered on a snarl, Ida messaged her uncle.

> Dinner for four at Charlie’s tonight.

It was their signal: we’re going in.

2

Anders tugged at the collar of his white dress shirt. He didn’t like wearing clothes that fit him this snugly. Unless it’s a muscle shirt. That’s ok. But starched white linen should never be this tight a fit.

Amelie had insisted he dress up for this evening. He tried to be a supportive boyfriend, and this was kind of a big thing for her. I just wish it wasn’t on the same night as the heavyweight boxing championship.

Surreptitiously, he checked to see how the fights were going. Amelie gave him a narrow-eyed stare, and he quickly shoved his phone back in his pocket.

They sat in a dark auditorium, waiting for the guest speaker to arrive. Amelie was enamoured with this guest lecturer, a lady who’d come over from New York to share her work on - of all things - the shadow self.

Maybe Amelie is still processing what went down last year. In her own way.

Anders hunched his shoulders as memories overtook him. He wasn’t even angry any more. Though he had been. At Ivan, at the world, at Owen, at the Order, at Trissah, and, most of all, at himself.

Why didn’t I see Trissah coming? This must be why Ivan used to get so intense. His best friend had been betrayed all those years ago, and it stuck with him. It’s also probably why Ivan goes all in for the people he does trust.

Anders scowled. And where did that get him?

He rolled his shoulders and shook himself out of dark thoughts. The black-painted stage was still empty, the murmuring crowd expectant.

Tell me again why you’re so impressed with this lady? asked Anders, more to distract himself than anything.

Amelie took a moment to check he was serious. Her name’s Dr Couteau, and she’s doing high-power work on the shadow self, she said. It’s very resonant with, well, what Owen says he saw when he was in Shadow World. And what Ivan told me about his first trip there.

Hmmm. Anders tried to shelve his dislike of Owen.

Just…listen to what she has to say, my love. I think it could be helpful.

And there it was again, that note in her voice. Amelie had started treating him like he was some sort of…invalid. An invalid with a delusion. Rather than a fellow whose grip on reality slipped when the world split into two. Like all of them, Anders was left with memories of what had happened and false mirror memories of a world where magic didn’t exist.

Amelie’s starting to forget. That’s what’s happening. Maybe she wants to. I can’t blame her.

Do you think— he began, but Amelie hushed him because the lights had brightened. A lady in a smart grey suit stalked on stage.

She was tall, with straight brown hair that fell shoulder length, framing her pale, oval face. Polite clapping filled the air, and Dr Couteau smiled as she put her papers on the speaker podium and adjusted the microphone.

All her movements were confident, and she addressed the audience as if she already had their trust and approval.

Anders sat back in his chair, prepared to be bored for the next forty minutes. But as a hush fell and Dr Couteau started speaking, he straightened, then leaned forward to pay close attention.

We live in a world where shadows can take life and walk among us, said the doctor. Where our deepest desires and dreams, the myths that hold societies together, can become solidified, taking form and entering reality.

You may see this concept as a powerful metaphor, she said with a lightning-quick smile. But in the world of psychology, the symbolic becomes real. After all, what are we but a collection of thoughts, beliefs, memories and habits? What is reality but a set of commonalities we all agree on?

The spotlight illuminating the guest speaker sent her shadow streaming onto the projector wall behind her. Dr Couteau tapped her fingers on the lectern, her nails sharp and polished. She paused to gather her thoughts. Her head tilted back slightly, and her nostrils flared.

Anders abruptly felt like a small creature, crouched invisibly on the ground while a predator scented the air. He ducked down in his chair, and after a moment, Dr Couteau resumed her lecture.

He relaxed just as the Doctor stared straight at where he was sitting. He knew the lecture hall was dark, yet a chill washed through his body as her eyes met his, boring into them like a physical force.

Amelie, gazing at the stage with rapt attention, didn’t seem to have noticed anything.

Steady on, mate. You’re freaking out over nothing.

The lecture continued, and Dr Couteau spoke about the shadow self, the unconscious, parallel universes, and our collective wish to understand the hidden parts of ourselves.

Just as Anders was easing back into a semi-bored stupor, Dr Couteau paused, flashed her smile, and said:

But of course, you’re probably thinking: this talk on shadow self is fascinating, but it’s a little abstract. How does it affect you, the individual?

Her gaze raked the audience again, and Anders resisted the urge to sink in his seat. I wish I were wearing a hoodie. I don’t want her to see me. Weird…

It affects each one of us. Dr Couteau waved a hand to encompass the seated audience. The shamed and secret part of ourselves that we suppress, the shadow self that we hide from… it holds the key to our redemption. Because only when we see ourselves reflected in the dark mirror of our subconscious can we know who we truly are.

Anders glared at the row of people between him and the exit aisle. I wish I could leave without pissing Amelie off. I wonder what Ida’s up to? She said she had some office work tonight. Sounds boring, but still better than this.

I'm in the building. Ida waited as the lift doors closed. She was wearing janitor's overalls and pushing a cleaning trolley. While this trolley was loaded with mops, brooms and cleaning products, it was all for show.

The main body of the trolley contained some quite sophisticated gear for bypassing security doors, cracking safes, and scaling buildings. Ida braced her arms and wheeled her trolley along the corridor to the first security door.

Here goes.

Her ID pass originated from a real janitor - a lady called Maeve. It had been carefully scanned and cloned while Maeve had her usual after-shift coffee and eggs at a greasy diner just down the road.

Ida pressed the card to the card reader, and the light went from red to green as the door unlocked. She let no relief show on her face, keeping the dour demeanour of a hardworking cleaner going about her work.

One down, five more to go.

The next security measures would be harder to beat. Her thoughts flicked briefly to Owen. He’s so very law and order. Luckily he doesn’t know about my family. Or does he?

Your text last week just said: ‘I’ve found something.’ That’s cryptic. Owen sat in the dark pub and studied the teenager across the table from him. How did I end up with a punk for a younger brother?

Karl smirked. Owen’s younger brother had grown up in the last year. He had Owen’s fine features, but his hair was dyed black and spiked into an edgy goth look.

It’s cryptic because I know you love a good mystery. Karl leaned back on his wooden bar chair and studied his brother. I owe Ivan. He did more to help Mum and me last summer than you ever did.

Owen kept his face impassive, but the words twisted inside him like a knife. Because they’re true. You think you found something to wake him up? What is it?

One of Da’s books that wasn’t found in the police raid on our house. It was hidden in a secret compartment in his boat, see? So Da probably used to take it out to the island.

Owen swallowed. The island. It was where his father and his secret cult had taken their victims, possibly for years, and where the whole debacle with Ivan and his shadow powers had started. How does it feel to be the son of a murderer? Not good, it turns out. Owen took another swig of his whiskey. It was early to be on the hard stuff, but lately, he couldn’t be bothered keeping up appearances.

I’ve been translating it. It’s in old Norse, same as Da’s other books.

And?

Meditatively, Karl ate a few chips from his pub meal. There was little love lost between the Hagen brothers. He blames me for running away all those years ago, and I feel guilty about it. It works, in a way. At least we both agree on something.

Most of it’s fairly awful, but one page could be relevant. A spell, his dark eyebrows lowered ironically, of waking. It isn’t specific about who or what you want to wake, but it does contain instructions on how to direct it. What do you think? Worth a try?

Owen rotated his cut crystal glass, watching the whiskey swirl inside. How difficult is it to get the ingredients?

Eye of newt and toe of frog, you mean? Karl looked amused.

Blood of human sacrifice. Owen didn’t feel like sugarcoating things for his little brother.

Nothing like that. Actually, the ingredients are kinda simple. That’s why I thought it might be legit.

You know there’s no magic in the world now, said Owen. It all went away when—

When Ivan fell asleep. Or whatever it was happened. Yeah, I know. It’s strange, but you can see it. Something about… Karl waved a fork in the air. The forest around home doesn’t feel as, I don’t know, foresty. The sea cave on the island—it’s gone. I mean, it’s still there, but it doesn’t feel like it used to. It just feels… normal.

Owen stared glumly at his whiskey. I know. It’s the same here.

In London?

You’d be surprised if you knew how it used to be. Anyway, that’s why I don’t think your spell will work. It was a good thought, though. Thanks for coming to me with this. It was an effort to get the last bit out, but Owen did appreciate his brother’s visit. The heavy weight of hopelessness settled on his shoulders again.

Karl raised an eyebrow in a gesture that reminded Owen unfairly of Ivan. I bet he learned that from Ivan. Probably practised in front of the mirror.

You’re going to give up? Just like that? Without even giving it a go?

What? No! I mean, fine, we can try it out. For what it’s worth.

You going to text the others? Or shall I?

For some reason, Amelie, Anders and Ida all liked Karl. Ida, in particular, shared the same dark taste in music and geeky love of online games. I don’t know if Ida’s a good influence on him. In fact, I’m sure she’s not.

I don’t think we should tell them. It’s something we can do ourselves, right?

Karl slid his phone back into his pocket. You don’t want to tell them? Why?

It’ll get their hopes up. For nothing.

Fine. Just you and me then, bruv. Karl slid out of his chair, leaving a half-finished pub meal on the table. You’re paying, right? With me still being a poor student and all?

Owen grunted in acknowledgement. The Order had dissolved when Ivan fell asleep. Not dissolved as in broke apart. Dissolved as if it had never been.

In this new reality, he was no longer the premier knight of the Order. He was a lawyer, of all things. All the details of what he did as a lawyer were in his head, overlaid on memories of midnight chases across London and hand-to-hand combat with redcaps in Hampstead Heath. The lawyer pay is good, though.

He slid thirty pounds across the counter to the barman and slipped on his suit jacket as they left.

What do we need to do this thing?

I got it all, said Karl. All we do is go to the centre of Hyde Park. The exact spot where Ivan fell asleep. You can find it?

Yes.

We’re patched in. Ida closed the server panel and checked her phone. She had access to all the security feeds from the building. Back in the transit van in the basement, Adrian had the same view but on larger screens.

All clear this way, darlin’, Little Bee’s baritone voice buzzed in her earbud.

Copy that, she replied. Adrian—what’s it like in the South Wing?

Fine. Adrian still sounded sulky.

I’ll ask Uncle Antoine to send him on a tire burner chase soon. He’s getting too antsy.

Ida unzipped her janitor’s uniform and stepped out of it. Underneath, she wore form-fitting black pants, a long-sleeved top and a climbing harness.

Four down, two to go. These last two are going to get a little technical.

She grinned. Damn, I love my job. It’s just a shame it’s so very, very illegal.

Anders leaned back against the auditorium seat, trying to get comfortable. The formal presentation was over, and a smartly dressed professor had come on stage to interview Dr Couteau and take questions from the audience.

Do you want to ask her anything? whispered Amelie.

What? No! Anders couldn’t think of anything he’d like less than being in the spotlight talking to Dr Couteau. She really gives me the creeps. Don’t know why, though.

Well, I have a question.

No, please don’t. Just stay here.

Amelie looked at him like he’d gone mad, then slipped out of her chair to join the queue in front of the microphone to the left of the stage.

Why does she never listen? It was something Anders loved about his girlfriend. She always knew her mind and was decisive and forthright. But sometimes, he wished she’d be a little bit more tractable. She really ought to listen to my unfounded paranoia…

A few audience questions, and now it was Amelie’s turn at the microphone.

Doctor, I’m wondering if you think this shadow world field of study may have something to do with the rise in Oneirophrenia?

Excellent question. Dr Couteau’s smile was as polished as her shoes. And you are?

Don’t give her your name!

Amelie. I’m a student at the University of London, and I’ve been following your lecture series.

Always pleased to meet a comrade in psychology, Dr Couteau’s teeth gleamed. And to answer your question, I do think there is a connection between my work and the rise in oneirophrenia, where subjects cannot tell the difference between dreams and reality. Not, she raised her hand, that it has been verified by the evidence base. Yet. But we are working towards some fascinating conclusions. Thank you for your question, and I look forward to seeing your future work.

As Amelie returned to her seat, Anders sank further in his chair till he was almost horizontal. He felt the weight of the doctor’s gaze on him, and he felt sure whatever he’d been trying to hide had already been found out.

It’s here. Right here. Owen stood on the smooth green grass of Hyde Park and cast his gaze in a wide circle.

Four months ago, this had been ground zero for Ivan’s battle with his shadow self.

You’re sure?

Yes. The spot was blazoned in his memory. He’d been so certain, that was the trouble. He’d faced his demons in the Shadow World, rescued Ivan, and they’d come back in time. He’d been so sure they were going win, and he and Ivan and the others would continue on from that triumph to live adventure-filled lives. You thought you would finally have the heroic life you’d dreamed about as a child.

And then Ivan had ruined it all by sacrificing himself to save the world. It should have been me.

He shoved his hands in the tailored pockets of his lawyerly suit.

So now what? We start chanting? Sacrifice a small woodland creature?

Karl looked unimpressed. He crouched down, fished a folded A4 sheet of paper out of his pocket and spread it out on the grass.

It was twilight, one of those late summer evenings in London that Owen loved riding his motorbike in. Back when I used to ride motorbikes in full armour. The sky was the palest blue, fading to pink at the edges, with streamers of cloud lit gold.

It’s the witching hour, and we’re about to cast a magic spell. For the first time in forever, Owen felt a frisson of excitement. Finally. Something’s going to happen.

3

Ida checked her gear one last time, then took a moment to savour the view from the top of the building she was about to break into.

The sun was setting, and below her, the lights of London were starting to glow. I’m on top of the world.

A smile spread across her face. It was always like this on a job. She felt so alive. Nothing compared to it. Except cruising around London with Ivan when he was about to do some spectacular, impossible thing.

Her grin faded, and she refocused on the job. Check the harness, and make sure all the safety brakes are in place. Check her tie-off point. Check the coordinates of her entry. Check her toolbelt to make sure she had everything she needed. Done.

Ida stepped off into space, and the warm summer air flowed around her as she glided down the mirrored glass facade to the office that was her target.

Dr Couteau fielded a few more questions, and the interviewer thanked everyone for coming. Applause broke out, and the doctor shone her smile around the stage. People rose to leave, but to Anders’s dismay, the doctor didn’t head backstage. She walked down the steps off the stage to the aisle on the left, where fans were waiting to schmooze and offer her congratulations.

Anders knew his girlfriend wanted to meet the doctor. Last thing I want to do.

I’ll meet you out front, ok? Need the bathroom. Anders headed towards the aisle before Amelie could object. Out in the foyer, he realised who Dr Couteau reminded him of.

Magnus.

The realisation rolled over him in a cold wave, flooding his system with adrenaline. Dr Couteau had the same confident assurance, the same knowledge that whatever she was doing was right, purely because she was the one doing it. She’s a lot more polished than Magnus, that’s true. But no wonder she gives me the creeps. I hope Amelie gets out of there soon, so we can go home.

Anders paced in the foyer, waiting for his girlfriend. Most of the crowd had already filtered out from the auditorium and were either talking in the lobby or drifting out the main doors.

Anders, there you are.

Anders froze.

His girlfriend was walking towards him, and right behind her was the last person he wanted to see. Dr Couteau’s perfectly straight hair shone under the foyer lights, and her over-white teeth reminded Anders of a shark.

Crap. He tried to calm his wildly pounding heart. You are way overreacting, Anders. Calm the fuck down. He straightened his shoulders. Put on your game face. Make a good show, for Amelie’s sake.

So we need… Karl trailed off, scanning the paper. A lit candle. Stone from Ivan’s house. Wood from his bed. A drop of blood from his friend. And a shadow source.

Owen scowled. You got all that?

Sure. I came prepared. Why take all the trouble to come to London if I’d just have to head back to Clarecross again?

Owen swallowed his annoyance. I’m not angry at Karl. I’m angry…I’m just angry. Because this isn’t going to work.

I’ll supply the blood, said Owen. Or do you want to, since you’re a friend of Ivan’s?

Karl raised an eyebrow again, and Owen’s mood lightened a fraction. He’s definitely been copying Ivan.

I’m a friend. Like I said, he helped me out. You— you’re more of a frenemy.

I rode a giant Wolf into the darkest heart of Shadowland to bring Ivan back to the land of the living.

Sure. Owen shrugged. If you’re so eager to pick up tetanus, go for it.

Karl rummaged in his messenger bag and brought out a small yellow candle, a rock, a splinter of wood, and what should have been an ordinary breadknife. Except that it was black, and the blade of it tapered down to nothing, like smoke. If smoke could cut.

How’d you get that? said Owen, pointing at the knife.

I borrowed it. From Ivan’s old flat. When I visited there.

Borrowed it?

Yeah. It’s our shadow source - something Ivan made. It was sitting in their cutlery drawer next to the can opener.

Owen decided to let this pass. I bet ‘borrowed’ means ‘took without telling anyone.’ What about that? Owen pointed at the splinter of wood.

I visited his home, said Karl. His face closed. Ivan’s mum…she’s grieving. His stepdad too.

The heaviness returned to Owen’s heart with a vengeance. Let’s get this over with. Then I can get back to my whiskey on the rocks.

Karl set the candle on the grass and placed the rock and the wood nearby.

You make a triangle around the candle. Wood, rock, and blood. He indicated where the blood would go. Then we light the candle and say these words.

Then what?

Then feed the shadow source into the candle, blow out the flame, and Ivan wakes up.

Grand. Let’s do it.

Karl drew a cigarette lighter from his bag and handed it to Owen. Then he took a four-inch switchblade out of his pocket.

What the hell is my little brother doing with one of those? I don’t think that’s even legal. Owen ignored the fact that, until recently, he’d carried a four-foot sword around London. And half a dozen knives, most of them longer than four inches.

The drop of Karl’s blood fell on the grass. Owen tried to feel for that something, the elusive sense of otherness that always accompanied magic, but his senses were deadened, and he felt nothing. Too long, we’ve been in a drought. We have to make it rain, and soon. Before all our magic dries up.

Karl flicked the lighter and lowered the flame to the candle wick. As it caught, the hairs on the back of Owen’s neck rose. Maybe…

The evening was almost windless, but Owen crouched low, shielding the flame. The candle flame flickered, fragile, then rose and burned strongly.

Karl raised the piece of paper, squinting in the twilight. The words were written phonetically. He sounded them out confidently, the syllables harsh and guttural. The hairs on Owen’s neck prickled again. It brought back memories of his father and the disturbing rituals he’d been so obsessed with. We can’t turn back now. If this works, it’s worth it.

His little brother finished and shoved the paper back into his pocket. He took the shadow knife and slowly moved it into the candle flame. As the knife blade met the flame, it glowed with a dark light.

Owen’s eyes didn’t understand how light could be dark, but that’s exactly what it was, and it burned darker as Karl fed the whole knife into it, the blade vanishing as the fire blossomed. A hush spread out as the black flame burned high. This might just work.

Does it matter who blows the candle out? said Owen softly.

No, said Karl, equally quietly. You can do it.

Owen’s thoughts were far away, his skin chilled with hope and worry. His heart thudded in his chest as he filled his lungs, and, in one sharp breath, blew out the candle.

The warm flame vanished, and the smell of smoke drifted up into the gloaming.

So that’s it.

How do we know if it worked?

I don’t know, Karl glared at the spent candle, then stuffed all the items back in his bag. We go to the hospital where Ivan is, I guess.

Ok, then. He’s at St Bart’s. Owen checked his phone. Not far if we take the underground.

Owen stood, obscurely worried. Ida had some sort of Ivan-checking app. Maybe we should have organised this with her and Anders. In case it does work. Who will be there to meet Ivan if he does wake up?

4

Ida carefully hooked the circle of scribed glass to her toolbelt with a rubber suction cup. She reached inside and opened the window catch, then released the catch on her rope to drop down a few feet.

She inched into the office. By now, Nick should have hacked into the building’s security system to turn off the motion sensors, but there was no harm in being careful.

Five minutes to find the safe.

The office was luxurious, the peak of corporate chic. Nice to know corruption can buy such exquisite style.