She was in Camden! She was miles from home, no Oyster card, no money, nothing. Also, no jacket. She scampered into the entrance to the tube and wrapped her arms around her, staring out into the rain. It was coming down in sheets, and she was drenched to the skin. She sniffed. This sucked, just, really sucked.
She could be at home, watching Potter musicals, eating pizza. But no, she had to run about like a hero, like she had some ability to do something. She wallowed. She was good at wallowing. Some days the world was out to get her, and other days, it just sucked, but either way, it was without a doubt, someone else’s fault. She sniffed.
OK, this was boring. Martin had come here, after leaving the Underworld. What had he meant by ‘an understanding?’ She should have read the meeting books thoroughly before she came here. She was so sure she was going to find him, and get her lessons, she hadn’t really thought about anything else. But the books would tell her something, something useful. Maybe.
She looked behind her at the barriers. She could jump them. She snorted, gaining funny looks from the people rushing past. She couldn’t jump anything, except maybe Johnny Depp’s bones. That was a weird expression, why bones? Then again, it seemed kinda fitting for Johnny.
Scarlet peered down Camden High Street, the lights of the market peering back through the rain. He was here, somewhere. Possibly. She tried to remember her lessons, and ignore the shivering. She should be able to see this stuff now. She slitted her eyes, and saw even less than before. This was stupid.
Scarlet rubbed her temples and tried to relax, lifting her shoulders up to her ears, and letting them drop, taking deep breaths. She looked again down the street, still gently rubbing her temples, and suddenly, she saw it. There were people rushing back and forth, but two of them stood out, lined in pale green light.
She gasped, staring at them. They looked no different, but they were, oh yeah they were. One came past her, glanced up, and gave her a nod, the slightest hint of a smile! She clenched her fists in front of her chest, like she’d just won Miss World. She could see them!
She was part of something, something, like, so much cooler than, well, anything else. She watched the other, walking away from her, until the strange green outline was lost amongst the rain. This was just so amazingly cool. She had to be careful, not geek out too much and embarrass herself. It would be like when she discovered someone at school who read Manga. She’d stalked her, like, completely, for weeks, until she couldn’t hold back and unleashed a torrent of fan-y geekness at her. Turned out Manga wasn’t quite such a big deal for that girl, and Scarlet had crept home and hidden for the next three days.
If Martin was here, he would show up, somehow. Would he be easier to see because she knew him? He’d said something like that, that she would begin to recognise certain auras. She took a deep breath, and stepped out into the storm.
The rain had lessened slightly, and only felt like someone emptying a bucket of water over her head. She was, at least, too wet to care now, and her t-shirt was black and in no way see through, which was a relief. She had to keep pulling it away from her waist, not that it made any difference, but most people were hurrying by, faces down, so they didn’t see anyway.
She headed over the bridge, glancing down into the murky waters of the canal. The shop fronts, decorated in giant shoes, and airplanes were lit up, showing like ghosts through the downpour. She’d only been here a couple of times, and it was so cool, even in the rain. To her right, as she came off the bridge, a tiny street led down between market stalls, and over the road, the stables…
A green hum lit the evening sky, like there were green strobes pointing up from the middle of the stables. He had to be in there. She dashed across the road, avoiding suicidal cyclists and in through the wooden gates. The smells attacked her stomach, chinese and indian, mexican and the old classic, fried chicken, all reminding her of how long it had been since she ate.
Staring in envy at the food stalls, she rounded the corner and gazed at the building that was lined with a patina of green light. How did no one else see it?
Closer inspection revealed it to be a concert venue, called Dingwalls. The doors were shut up, the lights off and she circled it, passing more inviting food stalls, steam rising up through the rain. She whimpered, turning away to focus on the hall.
She tried the front door, and it cracked open. Looking guiltily behind her, she slipped in and pulled the door closed. She was breathing hard and giggled. She could add breaking and entering to her rapidly growing CV, god this was so stupid.
She walked past the front desk, and through into the venue. It was small, tables lining the outsides, the stage forlorn and drab in the dark. The light was all around her, but she realised it grew fainter the higher up she looked. The floor beneath her feet was pulsing, and looking at it longer than a few seconds made her want to hurl.
Whatever she wanted, was down, down in the darkness, in the gloom and… what was it with people and going underground? Why couldn’t they all have nice, top-floor flats with good visibility and a well-marked emergency exit? Stomping around the venue, she found the door marked ‘NO ENTRY’ and, just for shits and giggles, entered.
A steep set of steps led her down into the darkness, the green glow stronger here, but casting as much shadow as it did illumination. The floor below was filled with dust, and old chairs and tables, and nothing remotely resembling a captured magician. She searched around, avoiding sticking her hands in anything too dirty.
Scarlet was close to giving up hope, or at least, shouting until someone appeared, when she found another door. This one was unmarked, but the handle was dust-free, and it opened silently. More stairs, deeper into the earth. She would have said deeper into hell, but at least there they had the good sense to be above ground.
It smelled of damp, and the air felt thick, as though she could scoop it up and hold it. It smelled old as well, like Grandad’s house, after he died. The floor beneath her feet was slightly sticky, and greedy for her shoes. She stepped slowly forward, shielding her eyes with one arm as the light grew ever brighter.
She rounded a corner, and before her lay possibly the last thing she’d expected to see. There were two sofas, and a large armchair, an old, metal stove bearing a kettle, and, each lit up like candles, three women.
