relatively clean air of his district. He was light some coins, a cricket bat and ball, but
his conscience was thankfully clean, and he had a description of this ‘demon’ whose
motives were so much a mystery. It was a description that rang bells. He’d heard talk of a
man dressed this way, this very particular – you might even say
‘idiosyncratic’ way – who had been involved in some ructions at the Rookery a
week or so ago.
Abberline found his pace increasing as it all
came backto him. There was a bobby in another district he could speak to,
who might know something about this strange figure who should be easy to spot – a strange
figure who wore robes and a cowl over his head.
18
Ethan never told The Ghost anything of his home
life. The Ghost knew names of course – Cecily, Jacob, Evie – but nothing distinct,
apart from the fact that the twins were close to him in age. ‘One day I hope to introduce
you,’ Ethan had said, with a strange, unreadable expression. ‘But that won’t
be until I’m certain they’re ready to join the fight.’
That was as much as The Ghost knew. On the other
hand, he didn’t pry, and besides he hadn’t told Ethan anything of his own life away
from the excavation. Ethan knew nothing of Maggie or the denizens of the tunnel, and The Ghost
hadn’t told his handler that he often lay awake shivering with the cold, his eyes damp
with memories of Mother and Father and jasmine-scented Amritsar. Or that the dying face of Dani
continued to haunt his nightmares. Lips drawn back. Bloodied teeth. A mouth full of steel and
crimson.
He just continued to exist, working shifts at the
dig, burying his spade in its special hiding place before going home to the tunnel and looking
after the people there.
And then, four nights ago – four nights
before the body had been discovered at the dig, this was – The Ghost had been making his
way home, when as usual he’d glanced into the churchyard – but this time saw the
gravestone leaning to the left.
Instead of going back to the
tunnel he turned and went in the opposite direction, heading for Paddington. It would be a long
walk but he was used to it. It was all part of the daily penance he paid for his …
Cowardice
, he sometimes thought, in
those moments of great darkness before the dawn freezing in the tunnel.
But he hadn’t been a coward the night he
had saved Maggie, had he? He had fought for what was right.
So maybe not cowardice. At least not that.
Failure to act instead. Hesitancy or unwillingness – whatever it was that had stayed his
hand the night of his blooding, and heaped such great shame on himself and his family name.
By rights he should have paid with his life, and
would have done – were it not for the intervention of Ethan Frye. Sometimes The Ghost
wondered if his ultimate act of cowardice was in accepting the older Assassin’s offer.
The sounds of the street – a cacophony of
hooves, traders and a busker’s sawing fiddle – all fell away as he walked, lost in
thought, his mind going back to The Darkness. When the door had opened that morning it was to
admit his executioner. Or so he had thought. Instead, Ethan Frye had reappeared, grinning
broadly from ear to ear.
Ethan had checked himself at the sight of
Jayadeep, whose expectation of death was written all over his face, and he took a seat on the
straw, just as he had the previous day. Here, Ethan had explained to Jayadeep that he was
required in London for an important mission; that Arbaaz had given his blessing for it.
It would involve him going undercover.
‘Deep cover’ was how Ethan had put it. And before Jayadeep wentthinking this was some kind of pity mission, that Ethan was doing anything he could just to
save the youngster from the Assassin’s blade, he could think again. Ethan wanted Jayadeep
because Jayadeep had been his star pupil.
‘You’ll remember I advised against
sending you on Assassin assignment?’ Ethan had said, and Jayadeep had
his conscience was thankfully clean, and he had a description of this ‘demon’ whose
motives were so much a mystery. It was a description that rang bells. He’d heard talk of a
man dressed this way, this very particular – you might even say
‘idiosyncratic’ way – who had been involved in some ructions at the Rookery a
week or so ago.
Abberline found his pace increasing as it all
came backto him. There was a bobby in another district he could speak to,
who might know something about this strange figure who should be easy to spot – a strange
figure who wore robes and a cowl over his head.
18
Ethan never told The Ghost anything of his home
life. The Ghost knew names of course – Cecily, Jacob, Evie – but nothing distinct,
apart from the fact that the twins were close to him in age. ‘One day I hope to introduce
you,’ Ethan had said, with a strange, unreadable expression. ‘But that won’t
be until I’m certain they’re ready to join the fight.’
That was as much as The Ghost knew. On the other
hand, he didn’t pry, and besides he hadn’t told Ethan anything of his own life away
from the excavation. Ethan knew nothing of Maggie or the denizens of the tunnel, and The Ghost
hadn’t told his handler that he often lay awake shivering with the cold, his eyes damp
with memories of Mother and Father and jasmine-scented Amritsar. Or that the dying face of Dani
continued to haunt his nightmares. Lips drawn back. Bloodied teeth. A mouth full of steel and
crimson.
He just continued to exist, working shifts at the
dig, burying his spade in its special hiding place before going home to the tunnel and looking
after the people there.
And then, four nights ago – four nights
before the body had been discovered at the dig, this was – The Ghost had been making his
way home, when as usual he’d glanced into the churchyard – but this time saw the
gravestone leaning to the left.
Instead of going back to the
tunnel he turned and went in the opposite direction, heading for Paddington. It would be a long
walk but he was used to it. It was all part of the daily penance he paid for his …
Cowardice
, he sometimes thought, in
those moments of great darkness before the dawn freezing in the tunnel.
But he hadn’t been a coward the night he
had saved Maggie, had he? He had fought for what was right.
So maybe not cowardice. At least not that.
Failure to act instead. Hesitancy or unwillingness – whatever it was that had stayed his
hand the night of his blooding, and heaped such great shame on himself and his family name.
By rights he should have paid with his life, and
would have done – were it not for the intervention of Ethan Frye. Sometimes The Ghost
wondered if his ultimate act of cowardice was in accepting the older Assassin’s offer.
The sounds of the street – a cacophony of
hooves, traders and a busker’s sawing fiddle – all fell away as he walked, lost in
thought, his mind going back to The Darkness. When the door had opened that morning it was to
admit his executioner. Or so he had thought. Instead, Ethan Frye had reappeared, grinning
broadly from ear to ear.
Ethan had checked himself at the sight of
Jayadeep, whose expectation of death was written all over his face, and he took a seat on the
straw, just as he had the previous day. Here, Ethan had explained to Jayadeep that he was
required in London for an important mission; that Arbaaz had given his blessing for it.
It would involve him going undercover.
‘Deep cover’ was how Ethan had put it. And before Jayadeep wentthinking this was some kind of pity mission, that Ethan was doing anything he could just to
save the youngster from the Assassin’s blade, he could think again. Ethan wanted Jayadeep
because Jayadeep had been his star pupil.
‘You’ll remember I advised against
sending you on Assassin assignment?’ Ethan had said, and Jayadeep had
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