City of Halves (13 page)

‘Hungry? For what?!' Lily asked in alarm.

They turned left, into an alley almost too narrow for the van to follow, but it turned in a few seconds behind them, stalking them, engine rumbling softly. Lily's chest tightened. The alley was lit with a solitary orange sodium lamp, high up on a bracket above them, a relic of the 1960s. It cast an ugly light over the street, which was so narrow the pavements were reduced to pointless strips on either side. Lily and Regan walked down the centre of the road, the van creeping behind.

‘Slowly,' Regan warned.

‘They're going to run us down!' Lily exclaimed in an urgent whisper.

‘No, they want you. And they probably know running me down won't work.'

From high above them came a rumbling, purring noise. It was hard to hear over the growl of the van's engine, but it was lower, deeper, stranger. Regan turned again, straight into a dead end. The van turned in immediately behind them, blocking them in. They stopped and faced it. Lily put her hand up to shield her eyes against the glare of the headlights.

The rumbling grew louder, escalating to a roar as the dragon landed on the roof of the van. Rearing up on its hind legs, punching down, its thick talons shrieked through the metal as it ripped open the top of the vehicle like a tin of sardines, peeling the sheet metal back as if it were foil. The driver's door opened but slammed against the brick of the alley wall, not wide enough for anyone to get out. The dragon's head disappeared inside.

Lily had never heard men scream before. A hand pressed briefly against the inside of the windscreen, the palm white. It was replaced a second later with a red splatter. The dragon grabbed something and shook it like a dog shaking a rat, resurfacing moments later, jaws crunching, blood running from its mouth, a strip of black clothing dangling. It gulped thickly, like a lizard with an awkward mouthful, before reaching one huge gold-clawed foot into the cab and grasping the passenger, plucking him out. As Lily and Regan watched, the dragon launched itself towards the rooftops, spreading its undersized wings against the black sky, emitting a piercing cry before it disappeared into the darkness away to the west.

Silence fell in the alley, followed by running footsteps and the roar of an approaching engine. Then Regan swore.

‘What?' Lily exclaimed.

‘No, you don't!' He ran, stepping up on to the van's bumper, its bonnet and then its shredded roof.

The engine screamed to a halt, echoing around the alley. Lily ran towards Regan, trying to see through the gap between the van and the wall. She saw an agent getting on to a large black motorbike, ridden by the man in black leathers. The man on the bike held something in his ungloved hands. His helmet obscured his face, but it seemed to her that he was looking, not at Regan hurtling over the top of the van towards him, but at the doorway where she stood. She watched as he pulled the pin from a grenade and threw it, with the accuracy of a baseball pitcher, into the back of the van.

Time slowed down. Regan shifted his course instantly, dropped down and grasped Lily's arm as the bike roared from the alley. Pushing her hard into the brick doorway, he hemmed her in, his arms around her, as the grenade detonated. A wave of hot gas hit them, blowing Lily's hair back and spattering the exposed side of her forehead with hot grit. He curved his shoulder around her even more, keeping tight hold until the only sound was a popping and burning. The air stank. He straightened up, brushing black speckles of stone and carbon from her face.

‘Are you hurt?'

She shook her head, looking up at him.

Her phone rang loudly. She pulled it from her pocket, hand shaking.

‘
H
ello?'

‘Miss Hilyard?'

‘Lucas?'

‘Yes, indeed. How remarkable. This thing actually works. Where are you?'

Lily looked around. ‘Somewhere near the Bank of England.'

‘Is Regan with you?'

Lily held out the phone. Regan took it. In his abrupt way he described what had happened that day. The conversation was brief. Lily's legs weakened. She leant against the alley wall, hands on her knees, concentrating on breathing in and out, staring at the burning shell of the vehicle a few yards away.

‘Lucas, we should get out of here. He told Lily his name was Jack. Fine. Oh, and Lucas, when did you get a phone? I thought they weren't for people like us?' He listened to the answer, grunted, then passed the phone back to Lily.

They made their way back to Bow Lane. Tom's was closed,
but Regan pushed open the door anyway. Tom was shutting down the coffee machine. He said nothing as Lily sat down and pulled out her computer. She searched for the news of a death on the Underground. There was only an announcement that Bank station was closed due to a fatal accident.
Accident
, thought Lily sourly.

Regan sat down next to her.

‘What will happen when they find the van?' she asked.

‘No idea. My bet is we won't hear a thing.'

‘So people can get torn apart by dragons in the middle of London and no one will ever hear about it?'

‘You may not have noticed, but they weren't exactly the good guys. And don't exaggerate, it was only one dragon. By the way it headed west, it's the Cripplegate one. I'll check it out tonight. Hopefully its belly will still be full by then.'

‘Why did it attack them?'

‘I had a hunch that the dragon wouldn't be too keen on the Agency.'

‘Wait, a hunch. You led me in there . . . on a hunch?'

He shrugged. ‘It worked, didn't it?'

She held up a finger. ‘May I remind you that some of us aren't virtually indestructible? And how many more of these Ancients are still asleep beneath the pavements?'

‘Well, there's the Thames River God in the Rock Lock beneath London Bridge. He mainly ignores us land-dwellers. And the giant brothers, Gog and Magog, who're buried beneath Guildhall in a kind of stasis. But as far as I know they've never woken up. They're the last stand. If they wake, the City as we know it is finished anyway.'

‘You're joking now.'

‘No. They'll level it. Everything. And start again. You really do look pale.'

‘That's probably because I've just seen a man die under a Tube train, another one get eaten by a dragon and almost been blown up,' Lily said. She bit the edge of her lip, feeling the adrenalin still buzzing through her veins.

‘Destroying any evidence, classic Agency tactic.'

Tom came over and pushed two teas across the table with his strange, stubby hands. ‘Thanks,' Lily said gratefully, grasping the handle of the mug.

He nodded. ‘No problem.'

Lily picked up the mug but her hands were shaking so badly the tea slopped over the sides, scalding her fingers. She put it down again hurriedly, laying her hands down flat on the table to stop them trembling.

Regan turned her face towards him, tucking her hair behind her ears. ‘Hey, hey, come on.'

She turned her cheek into his touch, cat-like. Then she remembered the man on the platform, on the bike, throwing the grenade with such deadly accuracy. Remembered his height, the distinctive black hair, so dark it had a petrol-like sheen. She pulled away, ducking her head. Regan let his hands drop instantly.

‘I'm sorry,' she said awkwardly. ‘Your brother, is he like you?'

‘A halfbreed? Yes.'

‘That wasn't . . . I—'

‘What?'

She shook her head.
It couldn't have been. If his brother had been abducted by the Agency, he wouldn't be roaming the Underground
killing people
. ‘Wait, I've got an idea.' She turned to her phone and opened the web browser, searching Twitter for anything to do with Bank station. She pointed at the screen. ‘Here, look.'

‘What?'

‘There.'

‘I don't see . . . “fatality at Bank station”, “man on Northern Line at Bank” . . . so what?'

‘No, here.' She tapped the screen with a thin, nervous finger where @Louise501 had tweeted
OMG, just heard it was @bikermedic who was killed at Bank. Can't believe it. Crying!

Lily clicked on @bikermedic's profile. Jack Lewis hadn't tweeted for a few days, but his last few tweets had all been images. Lily opened them up. ‘These are all Ruskin Park. I recognise the bandstand. And he refers to it in the captions as his back garden, so he must live close by.'

‘So he lives near the park? How does that help us?'

She shrugged. ‘I don't know. Wait, let me look further back. He might tag his location.'

Regan shook his head. ‘You people are insane. Why would you tell anyone your location?'

Lily poked her tongue out at him. ‘Look.'

@bikermedic Finally! Keys to new flat! Great to have my own space!!! :)

He looked at the screen, then wrote down the address quickly. ‘Okay, let's go.'

Lily took a hurried gulp of the tea. It was strong and sweet. She mumbled an excuse and slid out of the booth to the bathroom, where she washed her hands and face. The shadows beneath her eyes, which had been vague thumbprints that morning, were now purple smudges. The sensible part of her
brain was telling her that she should go home, right now, and forget all of this. It was screaming it:
Go home and forget him
.

She stared at her reflection.

I couldn't forget him if I tried
.

Lily took a deep breath. She went back and drank as much of the hot tea as she could manage.

‘Ready?'

She nodded and looked over to where Tom was standing near the coffee machine. On the counter was a small pile of left-over pastries. He glanced up at the ceiling and made an odd, chattering noise. As if from nowhere between the beams, two small mothwings appeared, shinning down the wooden supports on to the counter, grabbing up the pastries in their grubby hands. Even as they were cramming them into their mouths, Tom lifted them down one at a time and chided them softly. They scrambled into the corner and sat there, a jumble of pale limbs, rags and dusty wings.

‘I found them near the entrance to the courtyard. They were terrified. No idea what they'd seen. They keep babbling about traps and snares.' Tom watched them eat. ‘But you know what they're like, they don't make much sense at the best of times, even less when they're frightened.'

Regan watched them. ‘Someone's picking them off,' he said, thinking. ‘But who? And why?'

They walked down to the St Paul's cab rank. Regan looked up and down it before walking to a cab halfway down the line. It was the oldest of the lot, an ancient Fairway, belching black diesel fumes from the back. The driver was enormous, crammed into his seat. He wore a shirt, a narrow tie and a
broken old brown jacket, the sleeves pushed up over his massive tattooed forearms, which rested on the wheel. The tattoos were bleary, but Lily could vaguely make out they were matching West Ham football shields. The man was hideous, with a fat nose and thick, wet lips, and a tweed flat cap rammed on to his gigantic, patchily-shaved head. Regan bent to the half-open window.

‘Evening, Stanley.'

The driver looked at him sourly. ‘What do you want?'

Regan handed over the address. The man took it in his sausage-like fingers. ‘Get in, then.'

Regan held the door for Lily and they climbed inside. Regan folded himself into the corner. Lily sat down abruptly as the cab moved off.
Great moves, Lily. Very cool
.

‘Camberwell. Figures, with the Northern Line and everything.'

Regan said nothing, staring out at the lights of the City. His wrists rested on his thighs, his hands hanging. His legs were too long for the space, making his knees higher than his hips, but he still sat with a strange grace. Lily looked away.

‘You'll never guess,' said Stanley, his gargantuan form hunched over the wheel, cap crammed against an oily patch on the cab's roof.

Regan dug a thumb and forefinger into either side of the bridge of his nose and suppressed a sigh. ‘Never guess what?'

‘Who I'ad in the back of this cab.'

‘Tell me.'

‘Guess.'

‘Stanley, just tell me.'

‘No, guess.'

‘For the love of—'

‘All right, all right, keep yer 'air on! Cor blimey, ain't you touchy today?'

Regan put a hand to his forehead in mock grief. Lily hid a smile.

‘Colonel Amanvir. Flew in half an hour ago, wanting to see Gupta.'

A soft whistle escaped Regan. ‘They've obviously got watchers here, then.'

‘Who?' asked Lily.

‘The Serpent King's bodyguard. Amanvir is its leader. He's the oldest of the living children. Sort of like a statesman. And an assassin.'

‘'Zackly,' Stanley said emphatically from the front seat.

‘Poor Gupta,' Lily said.

Regan nodded. ‘Yep. Poor Gupta.'

‘They won't really cut his balls off, will they?' Lily whispered to him.

He shrugged. ‘If that's all they did, he'd probably think he got away lightly. A visit from Amanvir only usually has one outcome.'

‘Can't you stop them?'

‘Well, I probably could, but that's not part of the contract Gupta made. It's an honour thing, he'll accept what's coming to him. But it won't be pretty. The bodyguard are the sort that like to play with their food, if you get what I mean.'

They were silent. Lily stared out of the window, worried.

‘Anyway, as I was sayin', did you see them football scores?'

‘No.'

‘Two nil against Millwall at 'ome.' Stanley shook a huge clenched fist at his absent opponents.

Regan said nothing.

Stanley's sharp eyes were framed in the rear-view mirror. ‘I can tip you out 'ere, y'know.'

Lily swallowed a giggle. Regan glanced at her, then looked away, laughing. ‘Camberwell will be just fine.'

Stanley smirked, gesturing at Lily. ‘What's this one anyway? Ain't nivver seen it before.'

‘This is Lily.'

Stanley sniggered. ‘Awright, Lils?'

‘Yes thanks,' Lily called from the back.

‘Proper little flower, ain't it?' His eyes flicked back to Regan. ‘I seen bigger scraps on a butcher's apron.'

Lily sat further into the corner, folding her arms and looking down.

‘Looks 'ooman to me.'

‘Yes,' Regan said.

Stanley shook his head in an exaggerated fashion as he ran yet another red light. ‘'Ooman women ain't nivver nuffink but trouble, mark my words. Even the pretty ones. Nivver touched an 'ooman woman. Wouldn't know where to start!'

Lily looked out of the window at the darkened city flashing by. She pulled out her phone and opened the notes app.

What is he?

She passed the phone to Regan. He stared at it for a moment, then his long fingers picked out the letters for a reply, the screen lighting up his face.

Troll

Lily giggled, then clapped her hand across her mouth and scrunched her eyes shut to hold it in. They were all silent for a moment. When she opened her eyes again, she saw Stanley
staring at her in the rear-view mirror. She ducked her head.

They hadn't spoken another word when they arrived outside a Victorian house in Camberwell five minutes later. Regan jumped out.

‘Can you wait?'

Stanley narrowed his already hooded eyes, then pulled up the cab on the side of the road and turned off the lights.

Lily stood on the pavement in front of the house. There were two bins outside, marked 49A and 49B.

‘Which one did he live in?'

He looked at the name tags on the door. ‘B.'

‘Which one is that? The door just says both.'

He pulled a small leather wallet from the inside of his coat and extracted two metal tools from it. ‘Keep watch,' he said, and began to pick the lock.

Lily glanced around but the street was empty. Lights were on in various houses, but the curtains were closed. A man approached with his dog. The dog paused to sniff at the base of a tree. It bought them just enough time for Regan to deal with the lock. They slipped inside. To their left was a door marked ‘Flat A'. The noise of a television blared through the wall. Regan pointed to the stairs. They climbed to the first floor and he started work on the second lock.

A moment later, they were inside a neat, if shabby, flat. The street light outside gave them just enough light to see by.

‘You check the computer, I'll check the flat.'

As Regan walked into the bedroom, Lily flicked on the desktop.
No password. Excellent
.