yes, she’s never been entangled with them. Oh, tell a lie, she met one visiting Oxford—Freddy Persificola-Viola. What an arsehole he was. She gave him a tour of the city at my request. But nothing dodgy happened. Trust me, I watched every minute she was with him and tested her afterwards too.”
“This is…I don’t understand.”
“I’ve given her a job. She’s fresh out of uni, bright as a button, and quick to learn. We’ve just got to get her up to speed on all the Fae shit and we’re golden.”
“When were you planning to do that?”
“After we’ve got a kettle and mugs. Brain-breaking should only happen over tea, Max, we’re not fucking savages.”
“Should I keep the gargoyle in the bathroom until then?”
Rupert nodded. “Probably a good idea. Just make sure he isn’t in the ladies’ loo. Don’t want her to die of a heart attack when she goes for a slash.” He clapped Max on the shoulder. “Don’t worry, Max m’boy. This is a good thing! Kay’s awesome. We’ll be up and running in no time.”
“I’m not worried,” Max said as Rupert went back into the main office space. He was incapable of any emotion.
“You can see so much from here,” Kay said to Rupert. “Office is a bit on the empty side, though.”
“That’s one of the first things I need your help with,” Rupert said, going to stand next to her. “We don’t need much to start off with—a few desks, chairs…computers….A kettle, tea, and coffee are priority.”
“Okay, give me a company card and I’ll get it sorted.”
“Oh. Yeah…” Rupert patted his pockets. “Only got cash.”
“I saw something in the paper on the way here, actually,” Kay said and jogged back to her backpack. She returned with a local paper. “Crap crossword. I did it in less than five minutes. But it’s only the local rag, I suppose.”
She sat on the floor and began thumbing through the pages as images of a toilet brush appeared in Max’s mind. The gargoyle was getting bored. That was never a good thing.
“Here we go. A local office is closing down and auctioning off all their stuff this afternoon. We could probably get most of what we need in one go.”
Rupert shrugged. “Whatever you think is best. You’re office manager.”
“I am? You realise we haven’t had the interview yet?”
“Interview? Oh, no need for that. You’re hired.”
“For what, exactly?”
Rupert grinned. “Kitting out the office first. Then I’ll tell you about the rest once we can make a cuppa.”
“Kettles are on sale at the shop down the road,” Kay said, flipping over a page to point to an advert. “What do you think, Max? Like the look of that one?”
He looked at the picture she was pointing at and nodded, even though he felt nothing about the kettles at all. Then a picture above the advert caught his eye, one of a collection of workers standing in front of a large brick chimney in the courtyard of a foundry that Max recognised, taken at the turn of the century. The chimney looked dark grey in the photograph, but Max knew the bricks had been a deep red, and he could even recall the smell of the smoke which used to sink down into the courtyard on cold, still days. The men were dressed in their working clothes, with grubby shirts and neckerchiefs worn to soak up the grime and sweat. All were smiling for the camera, all faded into the background save one.
Max looked into the eyes of his father, standing in the middle of the group, thumbs tucked into his belt loops and looking very happy. There were the wrinkles at the corners of his eyes that used to gather the dirt from the foundry over his shift, until it looked like they’d been drawn on with a pencil by the time he returned home. He’d disappeared, along with several of his co-workers, when Max was ten years old.
All Max could recall about the disappearance was looking for his father near the foundry, hoping to find him and bring him home. Max knew that an Arbiter had found him as he searched for his dad and took him to the Chapter but he couldn’t remember why. Nor could he recall whether the reason his father went missing was the same reason why the Arbiter thought he—an innocent ten-year-old boy—should be taken. Why could he remember the smell of the smoke from that chimney, but not the night his mundane life ended and his journey to