Any Other Name (The Split Worlds) - By Emma Newman Page 0,23

it go. It’s done, find new friends, find a hobby, bear your children and you will be left in peace.”

“I’m not like you,” Cathy said, unable to stop her voice cracking. “What if I can’t just grin and bear it?”

“Then you have to learn, or your life will become insufferable very quickly.”

Cathy broke down, unable to hold it in any longer. She expected a savage verbal attack, but instead felt a gentle hand on her shoulder.

“I can see how hard this is for you,” she said, speaking softly, “and I’m not without sympathy. But I know there are plans for my son, and he will need your total support. Don’t make his life more difficult. He’s a kind, loving boy and, if you let him, he’ll be kind to you.”

5

Max leaned heavily on the walking stick, doing his best to ignore the terrible aching in his back as he held his position on the other side of the spy-hole. Petra sat beside him, ear pressed to the wall, making notes. Occasionally she shook her head at Mr Ekstrand’s attempts to be sociable with the Master of Ceremonies in the living room on the other side of the wall.

Lavandula had come straight from his niece’s wedding and had been full of details about it for the first cup of tea. Uninterested, Max picked up on the gargoyle’s occasional bouts of laughter on the other side of the house. He hadn’t realised Wuthering Heights was a comedy. Its foul mood at being unable to help the tainted seemed to have lifted once it realised there was nothing to be done for them without the Chapter to take them in and care for them. If the Chapter was still intact they would have been given a new life, becoming researchers and staff to support the Arbiters. Now they were doomed to be slaves of the Fae, forever.

“I should imagine that Londinium is quite different without the Rosas,” Ekstrand said, bringing Max’s attention fully back to the conversation.

“Yes, all scrabbling to decide who’ll be the next Duke, no doubt,” Mr Lavandula said. He was dressed in an oyster-coloured satin jacket and breeches and a lavender-blue waistcoat embroidered with silver and pearls. “Though, between you and me, dear Ekkie, I don’t think things will change too radically. I wouldn’t be surprised if the Rosas remain in control of the domain one way or another.”

“But the Rosas must have suffered once their actions were discovered?”

“Oh, yes, the Agency rounded them up quite dramatically.”

Agency? Petra mouthed to Max. He shrugged. For a moment he thought of the Judd Street talent agency that had snared those blondes. But that was connected to the Rosas, a front for their business interests and a means to lure in the right kind of innocents, not an organisation that would round them up.

“The ones they could find,” Lavandula said. “That’s the thing about the Rose, pull it up in one corner of the garden and you’ll find it springing up somewhere else. The family is just the same. They have deep roots beneath the surface all over Londinium, nay, all of Albion. Apart from Aquae Sulis, of course.” He sniffed, lifting a lace-edged handkerchief to his face to frame his smile. “My sister and I are certain of that.”

“Won’t the Agency have a means to find them? Your people have Charms for that very purpose.”

“The Rosas have wealth; they can afford the very best means of hiding. Mark my words, my sorcerous friend, we have not seen the last of them.”

“I suppose you aren’t concerned about what happens in Londinium.” Ekstrand poured more tea.

“Oh, I’m more interested than I used to be. My favourite niece has taken up residence there – the one who helped you to find me – so I’ve made it my business to find a little Londinium bird or two. In fact, just today I heard one of the minor Ranunculus family sons fell foul of an Arbiter in Hampstead. How embarrassing. Tell me, how is your broken Arbiter? Recovering well?”

“Yes,” Ekstrand said with a nod, handing over a refilled cup. “It’s good to know the Sorcerer of Essex is keeping London safe.”

“Mmm.” Lavandula sipped his tea. “It’s certainly good to know that the hapless Buttercups are as harmless as they ever were. And may I congratulate you on the delicious drama you effected upon my return; it quite distracted those at the ball from my… condition. Why, not a soul has commented upon the fact my cravat