Part one can be found here

‘Who lived there?’
Rat man grunted, Alex said nothing, so she asked again.
‘That house, where you were going to torture me, who lived there?’
‘Have you ever heard of witness protection?’
Had she? It was amazing! You got to, like, invent a whole new you, and have no history, and become anyone you liked. She’d seen it on some program a couple of years ago, and spent months wishing she and mum could see something really bad and get whisked away by men in black people carriers.
‘Yeah, I’ve heard of it.’
‘We have something similar, in the magical world. People who know too much, or see too much, they get moved, relocated to a new place, a new country.’
‘So what did they see?’
‘I don’t know. Only that the house was available for short stays. Word travels fast.’
From his silence, she assumed he’d had enough of talking about it. They were walking through an estate, nicer than home, and soon emerged onto a street of shops. The tube station said East Finchley, on the Northern Line, and they went back past Camden Town as they headed into central London.
Rat man was stood, both hands wrapped around the pole beside her seat, and every time she glanced up at him, he was staring down at her with a smile. She wanted to tell him to go away, but she caught a glimpse of the knife, stuffed beneath his jacket and instead she read the adverts opposite.
Hair loss. Hair loss and holidays. The world was a different place now. She wondered if there’d be a time she didn’t feel scared, or cold. Alex was also lost in his thoughts, still playing with his phone, though it was more likely to be Angry Birds than anything important.
They got off at Leicester Square, Alex once again muttering under his breath as they passed through the barriers, them opening and closing without an Oyster in sight. That was a trick she needed to learn. The spell book was tucked inside her jacket pocket. The cover had got wet, but it was leather and thick, and the short inspection she’d done in the bedroom had shown that all the pages were intact, and readable.
They walked through the crowds, The Square still busy, despite the late hour. She had no idea what time it was, only that her feet ached and her bed was rapidly becoming a mythic and wondrous vision she couldn’t imagine ever getting back into. Alex was striding ahead and she hurried to catch up.
‘So, you do spells without ingredients. Are there that many that don’t use them?’
He glanced down at her, one eyebrow raised, and shrugged. ‘Some do, some don’t. It’s about being prepared.’ He pulled his long jacket open and, neatly sewn in the lining, were stacks of small pockets. From some poked small bags, some plastic and others material. He looked at her again as he pulled it closed.
‘I keep myself stocked up with the basics. You get used to certain spells, stuff you remember easily, and then you get used to knowing what ingredients you use the most. It’s simple, really, just takes practice.’
He paused, taking the corner out of Leicester Square to the right and heading down toward Trafalgar. Scarlet knew this bit well. Dad had loved it here, before he went, and they used to come in and just wander about. She’d had ice cream, sometimes.
‘How long have you been learning?’
She shook her head, blinking away the memories. ‘Um, about six weeks. I’ve been to hell though.’
She wasn’t sure why she said it, maybe to show Alex she wasn’t as entirely green as she seemed. The American was looking at her, eyebrow raised. ‘Did you like it?’
She shrugged. ‘Meh, it was alright. Weather was a bit crappy, not as bad as here though.’
Alex nodded, a smile creasing his face. ‘Well, you’ve been to hell, met the sisters. That’s more than most magic users will boast in a lifetime. What next?’
She laughed, shaking her head. ‘Find Martin, go to bed, never get out of it.’
He nodded, mock serious. ‘A good plan. Though I have my doubts that the universe will allow you such a simple life.’
She groaned, shaking her head. They walked down the steps into Trafalgar Square, and approached the toilets beneath the huge frontage of the National Portrait Gallery. They were heading for the mens and she slowed. Rat man was right behind and poked her in the back. ‘Don’t worry yourself, luv, there’s plenty odder folks ‘round ‘ere seen.’
She hesitated at the entrance, and Alex took her arm. His grip was still like iron and the smile was gone from his eyes as he dragged her in. A couple of the men within glared at her, zipping up and hurrying out. Alex pulled her to the cubicle furthest of the right and stepped in, rat man coming in behind.
The back of the toilet contained a tall, narrow steel door. Alex rested his hand against it, muttering again. She watched his coat and spotted a small trickle of smoke emerge from the neck line. The door opened inward to reveal a tunnel.
Once more with going underground. There was a distinct lack of originality in the magic world, like all of them had watched the same cheesy movies, or read the same books. Alex had ducked sideways and slipped into the tunnel. Rat man prodded her and she followed, stepping into the darkness.
The tunnel widened, the ceiling rising sharply into the gloom. Light was squeezing its way in from somewhere and she could see the walls, old cracked concrete, dry and covered in spiderwebs. She shivered, hurrying on, hearing only the footsteps of the men in front and behind her.
She relaxed her eyes as they walked, the ground, even beneath her, and the green light flickered back into life. It was quicker, and easier this time, and the first thing she spotted was Alex’s outline before her, strong and like some cool night-vision thing.
Beyond him, a green wall filled the end of the tunnel, growing brighter with every step. This had to be the Council. She hadn’t realised how badly she wanted to find out what, or who, they were, until she saw the light, and picked up her pace.
She blinked the green away, relieved to slip back into the peace of the dark. They walked for another few minutes, and the walls went the same way as the ceiling, vanishing into the darkness. She was left with the feeling of space, a huge space. She could see little aside from the floor, but the air was cooler, and the sounds of their feet were lost in the dark.
A mutter from Alex, and Scarlet gasped as a light exploded into life on his hand. They stood before a replica of the museum above them, huge columns rising into the gloom high above, a pair of massive wooden doors, many times her height, standing triumphant at the top of a set of steps. It was totally over the top, totally ‘whose dick is bigger’, but she couldn’t help being impressed.
She was about to step forward, when something occurred to her, something she couldn’t believe she’d missed. She turned to Alex, realising he was standing just behind her, side by side with Rat man. ‘You were looking for something, at Martin’s, not just him but something else, books or something.’
Both men looked at one another, grins flitting across their faces. ‘What were you looking for?’
Alex shook his head, looking sad. ‘I’m sorry, Joanna, we haven’t been entirely honest with you.’ His hand shot out, grabbing her arm. ‘We are looking for Martin, and we are employed by him. Thing is, we’re employed by someone else, too.’
She swore, and kicked out, her foot striking Rat man on the shin. His hand slammed into her face and she was thrown sideways, Alex’s grip the only thing stopping her from falling. It felt like someone had driven a car into her cheek, and she whimpered, hand clutching at it, then dropping away.
They were still smiling. ‘You see, we’re pretty certain that Martin is dead by now, so we don’t get paid. But we need to find out, just to be sure. We also need to know whether the Council have retrieved the minutes. So…’
He pulled her up the steps until they stood in front of the massive doors. He brought his face close to hers, his breath hot on her cheek. ‘So, you’re going to be our scout. Go in, see what happens, and we’ll be watching.’
He yanked open the left door, and shoved her through, slamming it behind her.

Next Installment Friday 13th December

Part One can be found here

‘The Council! The council have got him, they have, the sisters told me.’

The knife paused above her cheek, close enough so she could see her eyes, reflected and distorted in the blade. She swallowed, dropping her head as he let go of her chin. She’d broken. All he’d done was wave the knife at her and she’d given in, just like that. She’d betrayed him.

Her palms were wet and she was breathing hard and the knife was still in front of her, and she didn’t care that she’d broken, he was going to cut her. Actually cut her. She started to shake, little tremors that became whole-body shaking. She was heaving and gasping and shaking her head and rat man stepped back, a look of disappointment on his face.

‘Alex, ‘es with the Council, bastards.’

The American wandered into the dining room, idly tapping on a phone. He looked at her, and raised an eyebrow. ‘What did you do?’

Rat man grinned. ‘Waved my knife at ‘er. Seems the agents aren’t as tough as they once were.’

Through the haze, what he said sunk in and she shook her head. ‘What do you mean, agents?’

Alex crouched down beside the chair, until his eyes were level with hers. He smiled, teeth showing. ‘You’re good.’ He glanced up at rat man. ‘Are you sure she was telling the truth.’

The other man nodded vehemently. ‘Oh yeah, no doubt. They get that look in their eyes, you know, desperation.’ He said it like Scarlet would have said chocolate, or Depp, and she squirmed. Alex turned back to her. ‘Who do you work for?’

She shook her head. ‘I don’t, I’m just looking for Martin.’

‘How convenient. Why are you looking for him?’

She dropped her eyes, mumbling. ‘He’s supposed to be teaching me, magic.’

His hand grabbed her chin, more roughly than Rat man, and pulled her face up. ‘I’m sorry, you might have to repeat that.’

‘I’m Martin’s, you know, student, apprentice, whatever.’

Alex stared at her for a few seconds, and she tried to relax her eyes, to see what he was thinking. Right, that was gonna work. He stuck out a hand and when it came back into sight, it held the knife.

His grip on her chin grew stronger, and he laid the flat edge of the knife on her cheek, pointing to her eye. ‘I can blind you faster than you can think. One simple movement. So tell me again, who are you?’

‘My name is… Joanna Slater.’ Better this time, quicker. ‘I’m a school girl, that’s all. Martin is teaching me magic and I haven’t had my last two lessons so I came looking for him, then you came in, so I hid, then I went searching and went in the Underworld, and then I met the sisters and then you found me and that’s it, that’s everything, I swear it.’

She sucked in a breath, and peered down at the blurred tip of the knife, then up to Alex. He was shaking, and the knife dropped away as he stood. The shaking became laughter, huge belly laughs that had her smiling, then not, then smiling again and wondering why. What the hell?

Alex turned, handing the knife back to rat man. When he turned back, she jumped, grabbed the seat of the chair. His face was blurry, shifting like the dodgy plasticine effects in Evil Dead. When the blurring stopped, he was changed. Still the same face, but the width was gone, and the menace, and he looked actually quite nice.

Rat man had done the same, and though he was still a little rodenty, his face was fuller and kinder. Alex was still chuckling when he pulled her from the seat. ‘Please, come into the kitchen. Would you like something to drink, or eat?’

She nodded and he rooted through the fridge, pulling out bread and cheese as rat man flicked on the kettle. When he shoved a mug of tea in front of her, she sipped greedily, ignoring the burning lips. Alex sat opposite her, resting his arms where her head had been only a few minutes ago.

‘I did think your disguise was particularly good.’ He chuckled again, shaking his head. ‘Now I know why. I’m sorry, Joanna, our mistake.’

She hadn’t had a chance to figure our what was going on, but as the tea boiled its way into her stomach, she raised a hand. ‘So, what the hell’s going on?’

‘We made a mistake. We are working for Martin. Our job is to find him if something like this happens. We thought you were from the Underworld.’ He turned and spat onto the floor when he said it. ‘Apologies, old habit.’

Huh? She’d preferred lying on the table, things were simpler then. ‘Sorry, so you work for Martin?’

Alex nodded. ‘We’re called Watchers. People hire us when they think something might be going a bit wrong. You must have noticed by now, things in our world are a little different to things out there. People disappear, more often than you’d think. Martin thought he was going to vanish, and wanted us to find him if he did. Turns out it was a good call.’

She nodded. It made sense, sort of. Right now, anyone who gave her tea and bread was a good person. She’d think a little more when she had time. She took another glug of tea, and placed it back on the table. Moments later, accompanied by a squeak from her, rat man took it, emptying it down the sink, and returned for the plate.

She grabbed at it, but he took it anyway. ‘Sorry luv, no time, we gotta go.’

‘What, go where?’

Alex looked at her, brow creased. ‘To find Martin of course. When I say people vanish, what I meant was, they vanish, and turn up in the foundations of the next Tesco express. Only they don’t actually turn up, of course.’

She went cold, and scrambled up. She pulled her t-shirt away from her stomach, aware of the cold clammy damp. Her jeans were chafing, scratching at her legs. ‘Um, are there any clothes here, wherever here is?’

Rat man nodded upward. ‘Go ‘ave a look. Think a teenager lived ‘ere, before.’

Wondering what ‘before’ meant, and not daring to ask, she climbed the stairs, and found the bedroom filled with Green Day posters. Whoever had lived here had at least had some taste. She opened the wardrobe, found something far too small, but at least vaguely cool, and stripped off, pulling on the strange jeans.

This was creepy. Not as creepy as the sisters, but creepy still. Who had lived here, and where had they gone? She hauled the jeans closed, sucking in her gut until the button closed, and threw on a baggy t-shirt and jumper. She found a jacket hanging behind the door and took that too.

Rat man was waiting at the bottom of the stairs. He looked so different now, but as he looked up and watched her coming down, the twinkle in his eyes was just the same as when he’d been holding the knife. What was she doing here? It didn’t matter, they’d find Martin and everything would be alright. Assuming he wasn’t already…

She swallowed, pushing past rat man and back into the kitchen. Alex was holding the door open, and they stepped out into the night, Scarlet clad in a strange girl’s clothes, with two men she knew nothing about, in search of The Council. If she wasn’t so terrified, it might actually be quite cool. This was a full blog post, maybe a couple even.

Next installment, Wednesday 11th December

Part One can be found here

She was warm. If she kept her eyes closed, she could maybe just stay here, undisturbed. And warm. She smiled. ‘Splendid, she’s ‘wake. ‘Ere, Alex, our little witch ‘as woken up.’

She groaned and opened her eyes, seeing little except the pasty face peering down at her. He looked how he sounded, small and bitter and not unlike a rat. She was lying on a table, like, a dining table, with her feet hanging off the end, and she rolled onto her side.

She’d misjudged the size of the table and rolled right off, landing hard on the floor, and shouting in alarm. As the pain sank into her left arm, she held it with her right hand, and despite her best efforts, a few tears ran down her cheeks. She scrubbed them away, looking up at her captor.

She was kidnapped, properly-held-against-her-will-by-mysterious-men-kidnapped. She almost laughed, it was so ludicrous. Then Alex leant over her, and the humour died in her throat, crawling down into her stomach to curl up into a hot little ball and hide.

Where the other man was skinny, Alex was wide and his face looked like someone had smacked him with a saucepan, many times. His nose was flattened across his face, and his smile was leery and contained more than a hint of menace. She shuffled back, her head bumping against the top of the table.

She thought about scrambling under it, when he grabbed her, his hand tight around her arm.

‘Ow, let go, that hurts.’

He sneered. ‘Please believe me, little girl, that doesn’t hurt. You’ll know when it hurts.’

She was sweating now, and glanced around. They were in a kitchen, though she wasn’t convinced it had been used for doing any cooking in. Dirty plates were piled high in the sink, plastic cartons spilling out of the bin and onto the floor. It smelled in here, of old food and rot and she wrinkled up her nose.

Alex pulled her forward, and she stumbled, losing her footing. She wasn’t light, god knows, she wasn’t light, but the American barely seemed to notice, dragging her across the floor and throwing her into a chair. She rubbed her arm where he’d grabbed her and bit her lip. She tried to picture Martin, but could only see him in his tramp outfit, grubby and a bit creepy. I’ve been through hell, I’ve actually been through hell, this shouldn’t be scary.

It was, though. Was mum panicking yet? She probably wouldn’t call the police, they might come round and discover the dodgy lead from next-door’s satellite dish. But she’d be worried, calling everyone they knew and asking about her. She might never see her again, never get the chance to cuss her latest horrible hair cut, or take the piss when she tried to use some ‘cool’ expression.

The thought was far worse than she’d expected. Alex bent down, his face stopping inches from hers. ‘Where is he?’

‘Huh?’

‘Where is he? You know him, you know where he is, so where is he?’

‘I don’t know, I don’t know who you mean, who do you me—’

He hit her, his hand catching her cheek bone and slamming her head around. Her neck cracked and she swore as lights flashed before her eyes and she swooned. She’d imagined swooning, but it had always been following a meeting with some gorgeous person. This wasn’t like that.

He was back in close. ‘I have neither the time, nor the patience, I really don’t. My friend here, he’d be happy to play with you. Maybe I’ll let him, just for a while. Or you can answer my questions.’

‘Why do you want him?’

‘He stole something. My employers want what he stole.’

‘Do your employers own them?’

Alex raised an eyebrow. She went on, wincing at the pain opening her mouth caused her. ‘So, your employers are paying you to steal something from someone who already stole it?’

Alex raised his hand and she cringed. ‘I don’t know where he is, really, I don’t. How did you find me?’

She’d try anything now, anything to make him put his hand back down. He sat back on his heels, both hands folding in front of him. ‘You left some pretty serious residue back at Martin’s place, when you jumped out. Clever hiding spell you used though, didn’t see you at all. But we came back, had another look round, and saw what you’d left behind. You might like to work on your subtlety.’

She sniffed, affronted and embarrassed at the same time. It hadn’t even occurred to her she might be leaving a trail. Probably looked like she saw people, green tracks to say where she’d been. ‘So who are your employers?’

Alex snarled, and put his foot between her legs on the chair, shoving it until she tipped over backward. She held her head up, but the impact still drove it into the kitchen floor and she howled as her teeth slammed together. Rat man bent over her this time, broad smile showing dark, dirty teeth.

‘We’re gonna play for a bit, ‘ee says we can play. Would you like to play with me?’

She bit her lip, feeling the blood well up and into her mouth. She wouldn’t cry, she wouldn’t. He grabbed her hand, and yanked her to her feet.

Part One can be found here

Scarlet stood up, blinking and stamping her foot. ‘I’m cold, I’m hungry and tired. Everyone I’ve met has lied to me, or wanted to kill me, so could you just speak normally, please?’

The maid reached out, resting her hand on Scarlet’s arm, and pulling her back down to sit on the sofa. She smiled, and Scarlet noticed for the first time that her teeth all ended in points. ‘Sit down, sweetheart, and relax. You have asked our names, and what we are. You have only three questions you may ask, so think about the last carefully.’

Scarlet’s mouth opened and closed, and she clenched her fists, bringing one to her mouth where she bit down hard on her knuckles. How the hell was she ever going to put this in a status update? Thank god she wasn’t on Twitter, there’d be no chance.

She took some deep breaths, and closed her eyes, and pictured her bedroom really hard. When she reopened them, the gently-swinging lamp was still there, and three pairs of eyes still bore into her, waiting. She groaned, wrapping her hands over her stomach. Only one question. She knew what she had to ask, but she was so desperate to ask more. Who were these people?

The Crone was still knitting, hands moving slow and steady, and for the first time, Scarlet realised how quiet it was. She could hear the steady breathing of the women around her, the deeper scratch of air being hauled slowly into the Crone’s weak lungs. She was safe here, possibly. It felt safe, but it also felt safe like standing on the edge of a long drop. Where she stood was fine, but one step in the wrong direction and everything changed.

‘I’m looking for my teacher. He’s called Martin. Where is he please?’

The sisters looked at one another, the Maid rocking her head from side to side. ‘Tell me, what does he mean to you?’

‘He’s teaching me how to use magic. I saved mum from hell, like, last month? So now he’s showing me how to do all the stuff.’

‘That’s what he is to you, but what does he mean to you? Who is he in here?’

The Maid leant forward and tapped her on the chest, above her heart. She bit back the smart retort about hearts being some random bodily organ, that everything that mattered took place above the neck. That was one of those steps in the wrong direction. And she wasn’t sure that down here, it was completely true, either.

‘He’s a friend, I think. I mean, I came here, to find him, so I must care about him, I guess?’

‘But you don’t know?’ The Crone leant forward, hands speeding up, top lip curled in a sneer. ‘How can you not know something so important?’

‘I just, I haven’t thought about it, I mean…’

She trailed off, and the Mother stepped in. ‘Leave her be, poor thing, she’s tired and hungry, and come all this way. I’d say that tells us everything we need to know.’

Scarlet flashed her a grateful smile and sat back into the sofa. The Mother nodded, leaning forward to pat her leg.

‘Your friend is no longer here, although he was.’

The Crone placed her sewing on the arm of her chair. ‘Your teacher is with The Council, answering questions he’d would rather not be asked.’

‘Your man is not long for this world, although not through his own design.’

Scarlet blushed, staring at the Maid. She shook her head. ‘He isn’t my man. I’m not even…’ she trailed off, her cheeks growing redder. ‘How come he’s with the council? They came looking for him, they couldn’t find him.’

‘Sorry, dearie, you’ve had your three. Perhaps the men who came looking weren’t from the Council.’

‘But…’

She stopped, blinking, feeling the cold drips of water as they struck her shoulder, sinking through her t-shirt. The lamp was no longer swinging, and was in fact, a street lamp. She was stood, beneath the awning at the front of Dingwalls, staring up at the light. A couple of passers-by were staring at her, muttering something about drugs and she blinked again, dropping her head and wrapping her arms about her.

The night was colder now, later, though how much later she didn’t know. The rain had slackened off, a thin drizzle that promised to last for hours. She sighed, shaking her head, ropes of wet hair slapping gently against her cheeks. She knew where he was. Sort of. What now?

‘Ello love, you’ve been bloody ‘ard to track down, I’ll give you that. You wanna come easy then?’

She didn’t have the chance to answer, as an arm came around her chest, and a hand pressed against her nose, and the light blurred, then faded altogether.

Part One can be found here

‘Hello dearie, do come into the light, won’t you?’

She raised both eyebrows. ‘Umm, light? You’re, like, blinding me.’

The woman who had spoken, sat in the armchair, leant forward and squinted at her. Scarlet stared back, taking in the leathery skin and gummy half-smile and eyes white with age. The staring contest was short. Whatever she could or couldn’t see with those milky eyes, they made Scarlet’s water and she looked down.

When she glanced back up, the old woman was nodding. ‘She has the sight, this one, strong, too.’ She was addressing the other two women, but she turned her attention back to Scarlet now. ‘You can switch it off, dearie, it’s really very easy, you know. Blink a few times, and remember how things normally look.’

Scarlet blinked, trying to see the darkness behind the women, and just like that, the glow was gone. It was replaced with shadows, that jumped as she took a step forward, eyes fixed on the lamp that hung from the ceiling. It looked as old as the woman to whom she’d spoken, but the light was bright and demanding.

The other two turned now, and Scarlet squirmed as they stared at her. The one nearest, looking over the back of one of the sofas looked like her mum, hair pulled back off her face and lines beginning to creep out from her eyes. The other, sat on the second sofa, had turned her entire body and was, without putting too fine a point on it, breathtaking.

Scarlet had conflicted feelings about this. She paid very little attention to boys, mostly ‘cause the ones at her school weren’t worth talking to, but also ‘cause some of the girls were. The woman staring at her now was like everything she imagined a woman could look like. Long, gorgeous hair, and a face she could stare at for, like, hours. She was really fit, and only a few years older than she was.

Her mouth was open, and she shut it, cheeks reddening. The young woman smiled at her, and she grinned weakly in return, clutching her hands before her like she was in the Headteacher’s office. She was, just, amazing.

‘Welcome, girl, what is your name?’

She opened her mouth to answer, and closed it again, the words from the big man in the Underworld coming back to her. She glanced at all three women, seeing them waiting, and swallowed. ‘Umm, I’m Joanna. Yeah, Joanna Slater. Who are you?’

The three women kept staring, smiles spreading across all their faces. The young one patted the cushion beside her. ‘That is well done, Joanna, you are cautious already.’

‘Sad in one so young.’

‘Everyone is young in your eyes, sister.’

The older woman grunted, leaning back in her chair, and reached for a piece of wood that lay on a table beside her. It was a disk with grooves around the edge, and thread dangling from it. The old woman settled into a rhythm, lifting first one thread, and then another, fixing them into the grooves. The centre of the disk was hollow, and emerging slowly from it was a colourful piece of string, like a shoe-lace.

Scarlet stared at it, mesmerised, until the woman sat beside her coughed quietly. Scarlet blinked and glanced around. The woman who looked like mum but not, shook her head. ‘That is not a game we play with young ones, sister, you know that.’

The older woman grunted again, and her movements lost their hypnotic rhythm. Scarlet looked around, at the damp, dark and shook her head. Where the hell was she? ‘Look, sorry, but I’m looking for someone, so, like, who are you please?’

‘Sisters, dearie, just like you. You may call me Crone, it feels right, these days.’

‘Oh, hush now, that’s not true.’ The middle aged woman waved away the Crone’s words, and placed her hand on her chest. ‘You may call me the Mother, which has always been suitable, and this is Maid.’

‘OK, so, like, what are you?’

The women looked at one another and back at her. ‘Sisters, dearie.’

Part One can be found here

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.