caught.
‘I somehow doubt you managed to climb over the boundary wall, Clara. So it would seem that you have knowledge of these secret entranceways that are rumoured to exist. Tell me I’m wrong.’
What was she supposed to say? That Hemlock somehow got her inside the Great Labyrinth? That she left him there at the mercy of an empath; that she only escaped because of magic? Clara desperately willed Marney’s box of secrets to edge open in her mind and show her the way out of this mess. It didn’t happen. From all directions, it seemed, she was in deep trouble.
Clara recoiled as Jeter slammed his hand down on the table.
‘How did you get into the Great Labyrinth?’ he shouted.
‘Hemlock took me there,’ Clara blurted. ‘I don’t know how. I-I got away from him. He’s still there as far as I know. That’s the truth.’
‘Is it? Because I have to wonder, Clara – are you in league with demons?’
‘What?’
‘Did you feed Hemlock’s soul to the Retrospective?’
‘No!’
Jeter sat back in his chair and clucked his tongue. ‘You’re in serious trouble, Clara, and if you insist on telling me lies, then I shall have to draw my own conclusions.’
‘I’m not in league with demons,’ she whispered.
‘Perhaps that’s the truth.’ Jeter slipped the medicine tin into his pocket, and then checked the time on his pocket watch. ‘I should warn you,’ he said, rising from his chair, ‘I’m not the only one to take a personal interest in this case.’
Clara’s throat tightened as Jeter pointed to the eye on the wall.
‘The Resident is watching you.’
Clara’s heartbeat quickened, but she dared not look at the eye. The Resident … the governor of Labrys Town …
‘Think on that for a while,’ Jeter said. ‘Perhaps the promise of being taken to the Nightshade will loosen your tongue.’
The police captain turned and headed for the door. ‘Lock her up,’ he told the policewoman as he stepped out of the room; the woman took obvious relish in grabbing Clara and yanking her to her feet.
In a small communal garden opposite the police station, Samuel hid in the shadow of a tree. The rain had lessened, and the smell of flowers and fresh cut grass was as thick as the drizzle that misted the air.
Though it was humid, Samuel kept his coat on. There were few townsfolk roaming the streets that time of night – most of those that did were enjoying themselves in the clubs and taverns down Green Glass Row – but a gun-wielding bounty hunter would still be easy to spot, and his coat provided good cover. But Samuel’s mood was sour, and not just because of the stifling atmosphere of Ruby Moon.
The needle of the spirit compass pointed directly ahead at the police station across the street. Through the glass door, Samuel could see a duty sergeant sitting behind a desk, talking to two constables. The building wasn’t particularly big, not like the police headquarters in the central district. Like so many official houses in Labrys Town, it looked almost bland, with so few windows in its grey stone walls.
A couple of hours ago a whore with a huge bounty on her head had been in Samuel’s sights. Now she was safely protected from his guns, though in no less of a predicament. She had been arrested, and there was no way Samuel could just walk into the station and deal with her. Even Old Man Sam wasn’t good enough to take on the Labrys Town Police Force.
She’s a magicker , Marney had said, did you know that, old man? Of course he did. He just hadn’t cared.
But he cared now.
Bounty hunters kept their ears to the ground, always listening for the next contract – the client didn’t find you, you found them – that was how it worked. Samuel was good at hiding himself between jobs, but this time someone had tracked him down. His employer had remained anonymous, as was often the case in the Labyrinth; dirty deeds were always safer if the ‘dirt’ was on another’s hands. Samuel’s
‘I somehow doubt you managed to climb over the boundary wall, Clara. So it would seem that you have knowledge of these secret entranceways that are rumoured to exist. Tell me I’m wrong.’
What was she supposed to say? That Hemlock somehow got her inside the Great Labyrinth? That she left him there at the mercy of an empath; that she only escaped because of magic? Clara desperately willed Marney’s box of secrets to edge open in her mind and show her the way out of this mess. It didn’t happen. From all directions, it seemed, she was in deep trouble.
Clara recoiled as Jeter slammed his hand down on the table.
‘How did you get into the Great Labyrinth?’ he shouted.
‘Hemlock took me there,’ Clara blurted. ‘I don’t know how. I-I got away from him. He’s still there as far as I know. That’s the truth.’
‘Is it? Because I have to wonder, Clara – are you in league with demons?’
‘What?’
‘Did you feed Hemlock’s soul to the Retrospective?’
‘No!’
Jeter sat back in his chair and clucked his tongue. ‘You’re in serious trouble, Clara, and if you insist on telling me lies, then I shall have to draw my own conclusions.’
‘I’m not in league with demons,’ she whispered.
‘Perhaps that’s the truth.’ Jeter slipped the medicine tin into his pocket, and then checked the time on his pocket watch. ‘I should warn you,’ he said, rising from his chair, ‘I’m not the only one to take a personal interest in this case.’
Clara’s throat tightened as Jeter pointed to the eye on the wall.
‘The Resident is watching you.’
Clara’s heartbeat quickened, but she dared not look at the eye. The Resident … the governor of Labrys Town …
‘Think on that for a while,’ Jeter said. ‘Perhaps the promise of being taken to the Nightshade will loosen your tongue.’
The police captain turned and headed for the door. ‘Lock her up,’ he told the policewoman as he stepped out of the room; the woman took obvious relish in grabbing Clara and yanking her to her feet.
In a small communal garden opposite the police station, Samuel hid in the shadow of a tree. The rain had lessened, and the smell of flowers and fresh cut grass was as thick as the drizzle that misted the air.
Though it was humid, Samuel kept his coat on. There were few townsfolk roaming the streets that time of night – most of those that did were enjoying themselves in the clubs and taverns down Green Glass Row – but a gun-wielding bounty hunter would still be easy to spot, and his coat provided good cover. But Samuel’s mood was sour, and not just because of the stifling atmosphere of Ruby Moon.
The needle of the spirit compass pointed directly ahead at the police station across the street. Through the glass door, Samuel could see a duty sergeant sitting behind a desk, talking to two constables. The building wasn’t particularly big, not like the police headquarters in the central district. Like so many official houses in Labrys Town, it looked almost bland, with so few windows in its grey stone walls.
A couple of hours ago a whore with a huge bounty on her head had been in Samuel’s sights. Now she was safely protected from his guns, though in no less of a predicament. She had been arrested, and there was no way Samuel could just walk into the station and deal with her. Even Old Man Sam wasn’t good enough to take on the Labrys Town Police Force.
She’s a magicker , Marney had said, did you know that, old man? Of course he did. He just hadn’t cared.
But he cared now.
Bounty hunters kept their ears to the ground, always listening for the next contract – the client didn’t find you, you found them – that was how it worked. Samuel was good at hiding himself between jobs, but this time someone had tracked him down. His employer had remained anonymous, as was often the case in the Labyrinth; dirty deeds were always safer if the ‘dirt’ was on another’s hands. Samuel’s
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