Heptarchy and probably other places too, someone who knows Fae magic and sorcery. We have to collaborate if we’re going to solve any of this, whether you like it or not.”
Cathy sat back as the two of them stared at each other. She felt like she’d been obsessing over one messy room whilst the entire house was falling apart. Whilst she was desperate to hear about what the gargoyle and Arbiter saw that night, it wasn’t the time to ask. Their relationship was strange, but then how could anything be normal when a walking, talking gargoyle was involved? Did all Arbiters have them? She didn’t know what the Heptarchy was and she didn’t know what the “someone” the gargoyle referred to had been doing, but one thing was clear: she had her first potential allies against the Agency.
“Listen, I know there hasn’t been much trust between us,” she said. “But I think the gargoyle is right. I don’t know how things work for Arbiters, but I do know that Nether Society is fundamentally unjust. It’s built upon suffering and I want it to change. We can help each other and I’m prepared to take a risk for you if you’re prepared to help me.”
Both she and the gargoyle looked at Max expectantly. “We’ll try it,” he said. “If your uncle can manage to work with the Sorcerer Guardian of Wessex perhaps we can manage to work together too. But if you try anything, it’s all off.”
“Understood,” Cathy said. “Same goes if you try to screw me over. But I do want things to change, and I think the gargoyle’s right.”
The gargoyle grinned. “Finally. Now let’s get to work.”
5
Sam stripped off the black suit and the shirt and stood in his underwear until he started to shiver. He needed to shower but could only face grabbing a pair of jeans and top from the bedroom floor.
The wake was probably still dragging on but he’d stayed as long as he could. He’d said an uncomfortable goodbye to Leanne’s parents and walked all the way home. His feet still throbbed from walking in the formal shoes.
He tried to remember what it was like in the house when Leanne lived there but he could only remember the arguments so he went downstairs to see whether there was any beer left.
As he walked through the hallway a flash of green made him stop before he’d reached the kitchen. He looked back at the long mirror hanging where it always had and realised sunlight was shining out of it.
“Oh, shit.”
A tapping sound drew him towards it, dreading what he’d see. He’d yelled at all the people in horror movies who go to investigate a strange sound and here he was doing it himself.
The mirror looked like a window onto Exilium and Poppy’s faerie was tapping on it. When it saw him it waved and his shoulders drooped.
The glass appeared to liquefy as the faerie reached a tiny hand through it to beckon him. He considered running out of the house and never coming back but his feet still moved forwards as if his body had already made the decision.
“Fuck,” he said as he climbed through the surface of the mirror, feeling as if he was slowly putting his face into a pond but there was no water beyond the surface tension.
“Where have you been?” The faerie flitted about in front of him. “We couldn’t find you.”
“Busy,” he said, wondering if the chapel had offered some sort of protection. Then he realised it was probably something to do with Lord Iron’s house, seeing as his company provided a Fae-proof flat for Leanne. “What do you want?”
“Lord Poppy wants to see you. He’s over there.”
Sam trudged through the perfect meadow grass, irritated by the beauty of the birdsong. There were trees and poppies, like the time he’d come in with Cathy. He shoved his hands in his pockets and walked until he reached a clearing. Poppy was waiting with his cane and dozens of poppy flowers as if he had always been there and always would be.
“Ah! There you are. I’ve just seen my favourite’s husband