“Proximity plays a role, too,” Madam added. “Darkshine’s only good for a mile or so.”
London was a huge city, and I still had to figure out how to look deeper, but it was more than I had before. “Thanks,” I told her.
“You’re welcome, Jack.” She flashed her mischievous grin, tipped her hat, and sauntered toward the stage. Over her shoulder she called, “An
iron net might be useful if you find your wraith. You’ll find one in the trunk near the street entrance.” With that, she disappeared backstage.
Madam’s shadow hadn’t shown me anything I could use to convict Brach of Henry’s murder. But the woman herself hadshown me how to find my wraith, which, if I could bind it, might help me stop this revolution before it even began. Until I could connect with Emaline again on what to do about Brach, I’d chase the wraith.
I walked into the lobby and found the trunk. But when I tried to pull out the net, I could barely move it—made me sluggish and tired. I felt dumb for forgetting that iron had this effect on thanatists, but it also reminded me of the last time I’d been in an iron net—the wraith had tracked me to my home. Maybe I could use its pursuit of me to anticipate its location.
“Come on,” I said. “We need to hurry.” Chuey grabbed the net for me.
“Where are we going?” asked Church. “And why the net?” “To catch a wraith.”
CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Elder thanaturgic beings speak of an arcane technique known as “bilocation,” wherein an object formed of Endless Dark may exist in two places at once.
—Newgate Prison planning notes
As night fell,we raced north on Eversholt Street, buzzing in and out of traffic. Chuey pushed Old Lada’s little engine hard, and in the back seat, Cassius, Church, and Lady held on. I blinded myself twice more with Madam’s darkshine bow stroke, trying to find the wraith. “North is not a destination, bro,” Chuey said. “Where we going?” “Give me a minute,” I said.
I got out Henry’s field manual and flipped to the section on shadow patterns, reading frantically as Chuey took a hard left, throwing me into the door. The manual said patterns had depth, like a z-axis, that required concentration to perceive.
“How the hell do I translate these patterns to a z-axis?” I muttered. Chuey hit my leg. “You said these patterns were likegleaming notes, right? Well, we hear notes in stereo, man, even 3D audio. Notes have dimension. Figure it out.”
I shoved the manual back in my pack and bowed a revelatory stroke. Bright amber light filled the car. I peered hard at the shadow of my legs on the floor, homing in on the two-up-two-down pattern I shared with the wraith. It took a minute, but I began to see some depth in each gleam note.
Then I hummed the short melody those notes made, fixing it in my head. When I thought I had it, I pulled the darkshine stroke again, filling my eyes with the violet light. No storm of flickers this time. No flickers at all. Probably out of range. But I hoped maybe I had the process down well enough.
I turned to Chuey. “Highgate Cemetery.”
“You gettin’ enough oxygen, bro?” Chuey cut right on Kentish Town Road. “You want to go looking for a wraith in a cemetery?”
“So far, it’s mostly hunted me topside. I was in the Strata a long time, then surfaced at Highgate and came straight back to the Horse. My scent is freshest between the two.”
Chuey shifted into fourth. “Your funeral.”
I bowed the darkshine stroke several more times but came up empty.
A few minutes later, we skidded to a stop at Highgate Cemetery.
We jumped out under a half-moon, and I played the stroke again. This time I saw a single flicker, distant and dim.
I pointed northwest. “I can see something.”
“Honestly, bro,” Chuey said, “I don’t know if you’re lucky or cursed.” “Why must those be opposites?” Cassius asked.
Church and Lady slung their satchels over their shoulders and pulled out their weapons. I nodded to them, and we all took off on foot toward the catacombs.
As we ran, I dug in my pack for the Orcus thread. It flared amber and crimson, and thrummed in my hand like a pluckedguitar string. Strange at first, but familiar, too. I looped twelve hand-lengths around my left palm and tied it off with a slipknot to make it easy to access when the time came. I had no idea how to do this, but the ward was shrinking, and I wasn’t sure we’d get another chance at the wraith before the barrier collapsed into the Iron Horse.
We passed a sign that read circle of lebanon—a sunken ring of mausoleums around a giant cedar tree.
“Remember,” I said, “we’re trying to catch this thing, not kill it.”
“Once we subdue it,” Cassius said, “be quick with your binding.”
