City of Halves (3 page)

They passed a pub, men standing outside, smoking. Ahead of them was Blackfriars Road, the road built over the River Fleet. Suddenly, Regan jogged forward a few paces. At the bus stop, the tramp Lily had seen earlier was still sitting, can in one hand, bag of bread crusts clutched in the other. His head was tipped
back, his mouth open as he slumped against the back of the shelter. He didn't appear to be breathing.

‘Gamble.' Regan shook his shoulder. ‘Gamble!'

Gamble opened one bleary eye. ‘Whadder you want?' he said grumpily.

‘To check you're alive?'

‘Don't know why you bother. No one else cares.'

‘I don't know why I do either,' Regan said, annoyed. Then his expression cleared. ‘I need to ask you something.' He pulled Lily forward. ‘This is Lily. She just met her first bandogge in my courtyard.'

The tramp squinted up at her. ‘Won't be the last,' he said prophetically, pulling a mouldy piece of bread from the bag and putting it in his mouth.

‘What?' Lily exclaimed, looking over her shoulder at Regan, who was still watching Gamble.

‘Have you seen anything in the last couple of days?'

‘Nuffing I got any interest in sharing wiv you.'

Regan's eyes narrowed. ‘So that's a yes.'

‘And if I'ave?'

Folding his arms across his chest, Regan waited.

Gamble took a long pull from the tin. ‘There's a girl missing. Human. I fink the family are traders, in the market. Fruit, veg maybe. Dunno.'

‘Borough?'

Gamble nodded, throwing the rest of his crust to a pigeon and taking another long draw on the can.

‘What has any of that got to do with us?'

‘You know that better than me. She was on the bridge, Blackfriars. I seen it. Seen her wiv you, and now she's missing.
An' you should check out that building site near Ludgate Circus. The one with the blue boards up. Dunno why, just gotta a feelin'.'

‘Right.' Regan turned away. ‘Like I haven't got enough to do.'

‘'Ere! I want a donation for my trouble. Cost of living is only getting 'igher. Lucas an' Elijah ain't never very forthcomin' where the spendies are concerned.'

Regan searched through his jeans, pulling money from his back pocket and handing it over. Gamble took it and stowed it in his jacket. He grunted a thank you.

As they walked away and reached the kerb, Regan turned to Lily. ‘Well, I guess this is goodbye, then.' He looked down, lashes hiding his eyes. His face was unreadable. The moment spun out. He put his hands in his pockets and looked out at the busy road.

Lily raised an eyebrow. ‘Very funny.'

He looked unsettled. ‘I'm not joking. This is the City boundary. You'll be fine from here.'

‘You and I aren't parting company until you tell me how to find Harris Stedman.'

He moved away. ‘Don't hold your breath,' he retorted, walking backwards for a couple of steps before turning. Retreating.

‘Nor yours.' Lily skipped a step to catch up. ‘So that's Gamble? Who's he?'

He gave her the side eye. ‘You need to go home.'

‘Yes, you said,' she said blithely, carrying on undeterred. ‘But there's a girl missing and Gamble saw what happened to her? And that has something to do with me? I want to know.'

‘I'm not sure if he saw it, or he just thinks he saw it.'

‘I don't understand.'

‘Gamble . . .' Regan began, then sighed. ‘Gamble is a schizophrenic, who goes off his meds constantly, and drinks too much, because he doesn't like what he sees and hears. Sometimes, that and reality get a little mixed up. For instance, I was never on the bridge with a human girl from Borough Market.'

‘So he does see things?' she asked as they headed towards Blackfriars.

‘Things to come, things that might happen.'

Lily stopped in her tracks. ‘Wait . . . he can see the future? You just said he was mentally ill.'

He turned to her and shrugged. ‘The two are not mutually exclusive. He can see lots of futures. It's not always easy for him to know which one will come to pass. Drinking stops the visions, at least for a while. And then he sees things because he's drunk. He often doesn't know the difference. Now, do you want to play sidekick or not?' He jabbed a thumb over his shoulder, towards the river.

They walked in silence to Southwark Bridge.

‘Sidekick,' Lily muttered, her fingers curling round the phone in her pocket.

‘Go ahead, make a call,' Regan said, without looking at her. ‘Think about what you're going to say first, though.'

‘I wasn't going to call anyone,' Lily lied.
I was going to text
.

‘Text, then, or whatever it is you people do.'

She let go of the phone, indignant. ‘Who's
you people
?'

‘Humans. Everything else is Eldritche.'

‘Eldritche? And what do you mean, everything else? There
is
no everything else.' Lily walked along rapidly beside him as he carved a track through the dozens of people crossing the
bridge. They moved naturally out of the way to avoid him, yet most of them barely seemed to see him.

‘Shows what
you
know. You thought there was no such thing as a dog with two heads an hour ago.'

‘Wait.' She caught his coat and he turned back. ‘You're telling me there is something else?'

He looked at her hand gripping his coat.

Lily let go. ‘Are you saying . . . 
you're
not human?'

His perfect face was impossible to read. ‘What do you think?' He turned away, dropped down the bridge stairs and began to walk along the Thames path towards the Victorian railway arches of Borough Market. Lily ran after him.

Covered stalls were everywhere, from butchers to fishermen, oyster shuckers and spice merchants, selling every type of food. One stand had pheasants and ducks hanging up by their necks, limp and dead. Next to it was a juice bar. There was a smell of coffee and baking bread, then the pungent stink of frying onions. The market was heaving with people shopping. Many stood on the corner at the pub, the
Market Porter
, nursing pints of beer in plastic glasses and chatting loudly. Regan stopped at a wooden stall selling brownies.

‘Sorry to bother you,' he said, wrong-footing the girl behind the counter immediately.
Hot, dark strangers crawling with tattoos don't usually have manners like Oliver Twist
, Lily thought. ‘I'm looking for the fruit stall.'

The girl looked at him, grinning as if she couldn't help it. ‘Which one?'

‘I don't know. How many are there?'

Lily watched as the girl gazed at him.
Yes, he's totally gazeworthy. But enough already
.

‘Well, there's the Shadbolts? Family-run, been here for generations.'

‘That'll be the one. There's a girl there sometimes, I think?'

‘You mean Vicky? They're just there, under the arches.' The girl pointed.

‘Thanks.' Regan smiled at her.

Beneath one of the larger arches, exactly where the girl had pointed them to, a big man was filling crates with fruit. Regan walked over to a brick ledge under the next arch and leant against it. He tugged Lily's sleeve so she leant against the ledge by his side.

‘What are we doing?'

‘Checking out Gamble's vision. But the probability is that the person responsible for the girl's disappearance is someone she knows well, probably a member of her family.'

‘And if it is?'

‘If it is, then that's not my remit, it's a human problem.'

‘What, you'll just walk away?' Lily looked sideways at him.

He shrugged. ‘Yes. Seeing as how most human girls are murdered by family members, not bandogges.'

‘Today is getting better and better,' Lily muttered, folding her arms. ‘So what's the plan?'

‘There isn't one.'

‘What do you mean?'

He shrugged. ‘I can't look for the girl because, first, I don't have time, and, second, I wouldn't know where to start. I don't know what motivates you people.'

There was a loud cursing from the stall as a bowl of apples tipped over. The big man – Shadbolt, presumably – kicked the crate hard. It broke, and fruit rolled out over the cobbles. He
kicked it a few more times before putting his hands to his face, clutching at his hair.

Lily frowned. ‘Shouldn't we speak to him?'

‘Why?'

‘He's upset, and maybe he knows something.'

‘Trust me, if someone's daughter goes missing, they don't want me showing up asking questions about her.'

Lily looked him up and down. ‘Maybe not. But what about me?'

‘What about you?'

‘I could have known her. We're the same age.'

He raised his eyebrows and folded his arms. ‘Go ahead.'

Lily squared her shoulders and walked over to the stall. The heavy-set man was tidying up the broken crate, his face grim.

‘Mr Shadbolt?'

‘What?' He turned on her.

Lily stepped back. ‘I'm sorry. I was just looking for . . .'

‘Vicky? My Vicky? You know her? You know where she is?'

‘No. I thought she might be here.'

‘Well, she's not. She didn't come home last night. Do you know where she might be? Anyone she might be with? I've called all her friends. I thought she might have a boyfriend – she's been coming and going at odd times – but no one seemed to know when I asked them.'

‘No. I'm sorry. I haven't known her long.'

He shook his head, staring at the broken wooden shards in his hand. ‘I just don't know where she might be. I know it's not always easy, living with me. I work her too hard. And you know that her and my missus don't get on. Things . . . money, it's been tough lately.'

Lily said nothing.

He sighed. ‘If she gets in touch, will you tell her to come home?'

‘Of course I will. I'd better go now.' Lily gestured over her shoulder with her thumb.

He nodded, his shoulders sagging.

Lily, seeing Regan gone from the archway, walked back out of the market. He fell into step beside her after fifty yards. He had a large bacon sandwich in a paper wrapper.

‘And?'

‘Nothing. But at least we know her name. Vicky Shadbolt.' Lily got out her phone and launched the Facebook app.

‘I told you, they won't believe you,' he said. ‘Here. Eat this.'

‘I'm not hungry. And I'm checking something.'

‘What?'

‘Vicky's Facebook.'

‘Facewhat?'

‘Everyone knows what Facebook is. Don't pretend.' She paused to thumb in a search for Vicky. Regan looked over her shoulder.

‘Well, her profile's open. That means anyone can see it. So there won't be anything interesting on it unless she has no concept of privacy at all. She hasn't updated her status since yesterday afternoon, when she said she was babysitting for a neighbour. And there's nothing to say she's seeing anyone. Her newsfeed looks pretty average too.'

‘Newsfeed?'

‘It's like a rolling bulletin of what's happening with your friends. Photos, updates, locations.'

He studied the screen with interest, watching how Lily
operated it.

‘But it'll help me find her other profiles, on messaging apps and stuff like that. The places she
really
hangs out.' Lily spoke almost as if to herself.

Regan looked lost.

‘You don't have this?' she asked.

‘I don't go in for technology much.' Reaching over her shoulder, he held his finger over the phone.

Lily held it up slightly. ‘Why?'

‘It's a human thing.' He tapped on a photo of Vicky.

‘Is that why you haven't got electricity?'

‘I've got it in theory, just no one's paid the bills in ten years, so in practice it doesn't work so well.'

‘Why don't you pay the bill?'

‘First, I want to attract as little attention as possible, and, second, my line of work isn't what anyone would call lucrative.' Lily could feel his chest against her shoulder. She shifted slightly, putting an inch of space between them. He shook his head in wonder. ‘So much information. It's like a playground for deviants. I hope you're not on this.' He held out the sandwich. ‘You need to eat. Your body will be using a lot of calories to repair itself, and it's getting cold again.'

Lily frowned at him, but she took it and took a bite. ‘Of course I'm on it. Everyone is. Unless you're a conspiracy nutter. You have to be a bit careful with it, but my profile's private. Only my friends can see it.'
And anyone with basic hacking skills, but still . . .

‘Got a lot of friends?'

She put her phone away and carried on eating. ‘Yes. Why? How many have you got?'

‘None. Which is exactly the way I like it.'

She wrinkled her nose, then chewed and swallowed quickly. ‘Why would anyone want to have no friends?'

‘Easier,' he said, turning to leave the market.

‘Where are we going now?'

‘
We
are not going anywhere.
You
are going home.'

‘There are about three people on the planet who can tell me what to do. You're not one of them.'

He glanced down at her, as she kept pace by his side. He almost smiled. ‘I bet they're all human, though. And they didn't just save your life.'

Lily thought about it, then shrugged. ‘I suppose you've got a point. So, explain to me, then, about the Eldritche.'

He glanced down at her. Then he took a breath. ‘You know how there's this idea of a balance in the universe?' He lifted his hands and weighed them against each other like scales.

Lily put her fingers in front of her full mouth before she spoke. ‘Like Buddhists?'

‘A little. Well, it's there in our world too. There are different types of Eldritche, three main ones: earth, water and air. To your lot, they're folklore, fairy stories, but many are just ordinary people leading ordinary lives. However, there are types of Eldritche who embody darkness, entropy. We call them the Chaos. They take different forms, but they're deadly and you can't reason with them. London is a magnet for them.'