‘I just wanted it to sayI love you.’ Robbie shrugged.
‘Oh!’ My mum dabbed at her eyes, and then she pulled Robbie down for a massive hug, complete with a kiss to the forehead. ‘You’re a wonderful man,’ she said. ‘And we’re blessed to have you in the family.’
The happiness in Robbie’s eyes made me want to squeeze my mum until her dentures popped out. This might just about be the happiest I had ever felt.
Epilogue
They met in Rome, in a chamber buried so deep beneath the city that no map, not even an ancient one, would note its existence. The walls were raw aged stone, undecorated and unadorned. The import of this room was not in its décor, but in those it held.
A circular stone table dominated the centre, smooth and large enough to seat the chosen twenty-six. Tonight, every seat was filled. The Conclave had been called. The meeting had been loud and vicious at times, but upon its conclusion, all agreed as to the next steps to usher in a new age of prosperity for The Order.
A’s death had been shocking and unfortunate, but everyone had shuffled up a letter, and B was the new A. The speaker – The Arcane. A role they delighted in. More power was always welcome.
At the head of the circle, the Arcane rose, tall as a lamppost and twice as rigid. Their cloak was the same dull-grey weave as the others, but their presence pressed heavier, as if authority had a weight of its own.
‘The agenda is concluded,’ the Arcane intoned, voice flattened to anonymity by the cowl. ‘Any other business?’
There was only silence, thick and watchful.
Then a gloved hand glided up.
H held up his hand, and all eyes turned to him. H wore, like the rest of them, a seer-spelled cloak that hid his face in dark shadows. His hand was gloved in black but certainly looked to have a stockiness to it that suggested he was male, though of course, there were any number of witches who could cast illusions.
As with all things in this room, nothing was certain.
‘Speak,’ the Arcane ordered. The air carried the quiet thrum of power, like a held-in storm.
The cloaked figure stood without flourish. His voice, when it came, was smooth. Controlled. Quiet enough to force the others to lean in, as though secrets should be earned.
‘Inspector Stacy Wise of the Connection,’ he began.
A ripple travelled around the table. Not shock. Not fear.Interest.
Several hoods tilted infinitesimally.
The Arcane remained still. ‘State your concern.’
‘She interfered,’ the figure said. ‘Directly. Publicly. She killed one of our assets and dismantled a carefully calibrated escalation. She has caused delays and disruptions, and most critically, she has drawn attention to operations we would have preferred remain invisible.’
There was a murmur, soft as rustling pages.
‘There is a further issue. She has requested to attend Wraithmore. It is our belief that she wishes to visit our operative formerly known as D.’
More murmurs. None at the table liked being reminded of failure, and being unable to penetrate Wraithmore enough to get their brother out was unsatisfactory.
‘We are on the cusp of solving our … access issues at Wraithmore, but I fear she may get there first.’
‘D will say nothing,’ the Arcane said with complete certainty.
‘Oh, I know,’ said H. ‘But the fact that she is seeking to speak with him tells us something more. She knows about us. And that cannot be borne.’ He paused, letting the silence cement the point. ‘I request sanction to neutralise her.’
Across the table, someone shifted. Another sat up straighter. Someone else folded their hands.
The Arcane considered the circle, reading their stillness, the shapes of their reactions, the unspoken calculation of the room.
‘Vote,’ the Arcane commanded.
One by one, gloved hands lifted into the air. Seventeen. Eighteen. Nineteen.
