so restless and unfocused that it was now pacing the empty office, waiting for his return.
Walking through the city centre, he couldn’t help but keep an eye out for any of the Fae-touched or their staff that he knew by sight. He didn’t see any of them in the mundane city, which was expected, but vigilance was needed now more than ever. There were the usual tourists and residents bundled in coats, hats, and scarves, heads down against the bitter northerly wind. A blonde woman playing the violin on a street corner caught his eye; being young, attractive, and talented, she would be an obvious target. After watching her and the small crowd for a few minutes he was satisfied that none of the parasites had taken an interest.
Rupert had given him a new hat and coat and new gadgets to replace those he’d had from the Bath Chapter on the grounds that, though they worked perfectly, they were apparently “antiquated shit.” Rupert had given him a quick demonstration of each one. As far as Max could tell, the only difference was that they were made of Bakelite and electronics instead of brass and clockwork. Rupert seemed to be offended by the comparison, saying his were far superior to anything Ekstrand had ever made. Max thought it best to say no more on the subject, and at least his pockets clanked less than they used to.
Max wasn’t sure about his new coat or the hat, which Rupert said was better than the trilby, but he was certain that people stared at him less. The coat looked like a more modern version of his old one, had more pockets, and was warmer, too. The hat was lined with fur and had flaps that could be folded down to cover his ears when it was very cold. From the way the gargoyle had laughed at him, Max decided it was better not to wear them that way.
The receptionist recognised his appointment when he arrived at the newspaper’s building on the other side of the city, and directed him to the third floor. He took off the hat and his gloves in the lift and looked at the article photos before the ping told him he’d arrived.
It was a large open-plan office, similar to the space Rupert had hired in Cambridge House, filled with dozens of cubicles. Each one contained a desk, chair, computer, and telephone. It was noisy and filled with people, some rushing around, some at the desks. A couple of them glanced at him and then looked back a second time, frowning, no doubt wondering what such a strange, ugly man was doing there.
Max went to the receptionist for that floor, a man who didn’t give him a warm smile in greeting. “Excuse me, could you direct me to Nita Singh’s desk?”
“She’s over near the back wall, third from the left,” the man said, happy to point and make Max go away.
He picked his way between two rows of cubicles, listening to the conversations, glancing at screens full of words and pictures that held no interest for him. Was this what Rupert had planned for the new Chapter? The two large rooms filled with researchers in the Bath Chapter were serene in comparison. People made notes, pored over books, and wrote up reports in silence, engrossed in their work. The dining hall was different, always as noisy as this place, but that he could understand; it was where the staff relaxed and exchanged stories. How could any work get done in a place like this?
A woman was sitting at the desk that was pointed out to him, her back to him as she typed on her computer. A long black braid ran down her back and her skin was dark brown. When she turned to look at a notepad resting beside her, he saw small white balls tucked into her ears with thin white cables leading from them. It took him a moment to place them as something to do with listening to music. He’d had a briefing about it at the Chapter, not long before it was destroyed.
He went over and tapped her on the shoulder, making her yelp and tear the wires from her ears. She swivelled her chair to face him and he was met with the usual mild shock
Walking through the city centre, he couldn’t help but keep an eye out for any of the Fae-touched or their staff that he knew by sight. He didn’t see any of them in the mundane city, which was expected, but vigilance was needed now more than ever. There were the usual tourists and residents bundled in coats, hats, and scarves, heads down against the bitter northerly wind. A blonde woman playing the violin on a street corner caught his eye; being young, attractive, and talented, she would be an obvious target. After watching her and the small crowd for a few minutes he was satisfied that none of the parasites had taken an interest.
Rupert had given him a new hat and coat and new gadgets to replace those he’d had from the Bath Chapter on the grounds that, though they worked perfectly, they were apparently “antiquated shit.” Rupert had given him a quick demonstration of each one. As far as Max could tell, the only difference was that they were made of Bakelite and electronics instead of brass and clockwork. Rupert seemed to be offended by the comparison, saying his were far superior to anything Ekstrand had ever made. Max thought it best to say no more on the subject, and at least his pockets clanked less than they used to.
Max wasn’t sure about his new coat or the hat, which Rupert said was better than the trilby, but he was certain that people stared at him less. The coat looked like a more modern version of his old one, had more pockets, and was warmer, too. The hat was lined with fur and had flaps that could be folded down to cover his ears when it was very cold. From the way the gargoyle had laughed at him, Max decided it was better not to wear them that way.
The receptionist recognised his appointment when he arrived at the newspaper’s building on the other side of the city, and directed him to the third floor. He took off the hat and his gloves in the lift and looked at the article photos before the ping told him he’d arrived.
It was a large open-plan office, similar to the space Rupert had hired in Cambridge House, filled with dozens of cubicles. Each one contained a desk, chair, computer, and telephone. It was noisy and filled with people, some rushing around, some at the desks. A couple of them glanced at him and then looked back a second time, frowning, no doubt wondering what such a strange, ugly man was doing there.
Max went to the receptionist for that floor, a man who didn’t give him a warm smile in greeting. “Excuse me, could you direct me to Nita Singh’s desk?”
“She’s over near the back wall, third from the left,” the man said, happy to point and make Max go away.
He picked his way between two rows of cubicles, listening to the conversations, glancing at screens full of words and pictures that held no interest for him. Was this what Rupert had planned for the new Chapter? The two large rooms filled with researchers in the Bath Chapter were serene in comparison. People made notes, pored over books, and wrote up reports in silence, engrossed in their work. The dining hall was different, always as noisy as this place, but that he could understand; it was where the staff relaxed and exchanged stories. How could any work get done in a place like this?
A woman was sitting at the desk that was pointed out to him, her back to him as she typed on her computer. A long black braid ran down her back and her skin was dark brown. When she turned to look at a notepad resting beside her, he saw small white balls tucked into her ears with thin white cables leading from them. It took him a moment to place them as something to do with listening to music. He’d had a briefing about it at the Chapter, not long before it was destroyed.
He went over and tapped her on the shoulder, making her yelp and tear the wires from her ears. She swivelled her chair to face him and he was met with the usual mild shock
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