Chapter 48
CHAPTER FORTY-EIGHT
Music flows gently beneath the surface into the dispositions and practices, and from there it emerges bigger in men’s contracts with one another; and it’s from these contracts it attacks laws and regimes with much insolence until it finally subverts everything private and public.
—Adeimantus to Socrates
(needlepoint sampler from the office of Muster Brach)
I pushed Old Lada’s engine hard down Charing Cross Road. Cassius clung to the dashboard as I slashed in and out of traffic. Turning onto Manette Street, I slammed on the brakes. Lurking just ten yards from the Iron Horse door had to be nearly thirty Shiguan.
“I’m getting sick of this.” I revved the engine. “What are they doing here?”
“Scouts, most likely,” said Cassius. “Though some may be here to rebind vestiges should the ward fail.”
I floored it, daring them to jump in front of me. The prowlers scattered back, and I skidded up to the curb in front of the Horse. We jumped out and rushed inside.
I waved Church, Lady, and the rest of the team into the venue, where we quickly formed a circle.
Lakshmi spoke first. “I examined the body of the wraith from the cemetery. It confirms what you saw, Jack. Its f lesh only housed one spirit—”
“Meaning it was an immature wraith,” I said. The whole thing had been a waste of energy, and some of my friends had nearly been killed. “And only a mature wraith can travel between Strata or come topside.”
Lakshmi nodded. “There’s another wraith, which explains how Angela DuFresne was killed twelve miles away at nearly the same time you were chased by one outside your flat.”
It made sense. But we’d barely escaped an immature wraith. I didn’t see how we’d ever capture something more powerful. My friends’ silence seemed to be saying the same.
“The wraith you killed was only ever after you, Jack,” Lakshmi added. “But all these musician deaths . . . something is hunting them for a reason.” The implications started to take shape for me. “Brach’s the only thanatist
I know who has the Cython knowledge to summon and bind a mature wraith. I think he’s using that wraith to eliminate songwriters as part of his larger plan to bring his revolution topside and install his own music.” Church removed his cigar. “How would he accomplish such a thing,
Jack?”
I ran down what I could make of it all so far—the thousands of bodies Brach was collecting, so many of them tied to music in one way or another; the elimination of dissenting musical voices in the Strata, like Bolan and Faithfull in Tin Pan Alley; the mummers like Leinad Ke of Banner Streaming and Morris Williams, minister of creative industries, media, and arts; and the network of music venues he was preparing to disseminate his new music and propaganda.
Church’s face slackened. “Dear me. This morning’s Telegraph reported that Minister Williams was preparing his annual address of Parliament. There was speculation of sweeping changes.”
“Brach’s already moving on his plan,” I said.
“I hate to tell you, bro,” said Chuey, “but Andrew Lloyd Webber and James MacMillan were found dead this morning. Word is it looked a lot like what happened to Angela and Jimmy.”
“Then this wraith’s obsession must align somehow with Brach’s goal”—Church spoke around his cigar—“and is yet another weapon in his war.”
“Yes, but to what end?” Lady asked. “Brach wouldn’t need a wraith just to kill musicians.”
I couldn’t answer that. Not yet, anyway. But there was something more important I needed to tell my friends. “Henry’s not dead.”
“Jack”—Chuey shook my arm—“man, don’t go chasing ghosts. I know what it’s like to lose a friend. Plays with your mind.”
I told them about the morgue and Dr. Cage, then shared Emaline’s story, leaving out her name, but emphasizing Brach’s ability to snatch souls from the Meadows.
“If Henry had moved on, his body would have started to decay. And if he’d simply passed to the Strata on his own, he’d have found his way back to the Iron Horse. ”
Lakshmi glanced at the venue steps. “You think Brach’s holding Henry in the Strata, then.”
“Brach had Henry killed,” I said. “He knew exactly when and where Henry’s soul would reach the Meadows.”
Church leaned out over his cane. “But why would Brach keep Henry’s soul?”
“I don’t know.” I hitched up my catalyst pack. “But our friend is alive and has no physical body to return to. There’s also a mature wraith killing musicians—a wraith that could help us renew the ward if we can bind it. And Brach is almost certainly behind both.”
“Man, this dude’s like a fart in the shower,” Chuey said. “So, what’s our plan?”
I told them about my meeting request with Brach. “The way I see it, we’ve got even more to push him on. Get him to reveal something about the assassination and this musician-killing wraith. Hell, summoning a mature wraith is by itself a violation of Precedent, right?”
Lakshmi nodded. “A high crime, at that.”
“It’s bold, Jack,” said Church. “But be mindful that your chancery trial is tonight at midnight. Westminster Hall, Medieval Stratum.”
I’d almost forgotten. Some of the most influential and frightening people in the history of London would be my judges.
Any other time I’d have killed to meet them.
Now it was time I didn’t have, wasted defending laughable charges.
“They’re going to challenge that Henry gave me the Iron Horse.
Pin his death on me. Blame me for the wraith.
Meanwhile people are being killed, and the ward is failing—”
Chuey snapped his fingers. “It’s a stall. Court gabbers do it all the time.
This Brach cat is just trying to jam you up until the ward runs out.”
Lakshmi nodded. “I’m afraid that’s probably true. Brach will reasonably establish motive and opportunity. It’ll be enough for the Strata Chancery to hold you.”
“Which makes our meeting with Brach that much more important,” I said. “We’ve either got to prove it was Brach or renew the ward before he can stick me in a box. Either way, we need to rattle him for information. And if we can get him to reveal where Henry is—”
Church raised his cigar. “Henry would be proof of Brach’s crime as well as our best bet at finding and binding this musical wraith.”
I touched my nose. “Exactly.”
I texted Emaline. We’re coming to see Brach now. I was about to head for the Steps when I heard nervous chatter from the crowd on the pub side. The ward was collapsing on them, same as the rest of us, and they didn’t know what was going on. They had a right to know. This was their place, too.
I led the others through the curtain into the pub. All my friends were there—Ella, Westy, the Parley twins, other regulars, and the new folks, too, Sherzer, Delain, Loch, and Darnell.
“Excuse me, may I have your attention for a minute?” The Iron Horse grew quiet.
I told them about Brach and the war he intended to wage against the topside world. Some seemed already to be aware.
“I know Church told you that Henry asked me to carry on for him.” I glanced at Henry’s spot at the bar. “I’m doing my best to make good on it. Obviously, no one will ever replace Henry. But I love the Horse, just
like I love all of you. And I promise you this: I’m not leaving, and I’m not giving up. If I go down, I go down fighting.”
My father had spoken that way more often than I cared to remember. I’d never understood it, until now. But despite his conviction and willingness to die for his Westmont home, he let me choose whether I’d follow him down. Or not.
“We have a plan to keep the Iron Horse the way it is,” I said, “to keep our world the way it is. But before it’s over, we may have to defend this place, and I don’t want anyone getting pulled into a fight without having a say.
Because the deeper I get into this thing, the more likely I think it is that I may not make it through. ”
In the silence that followed, Chuey raised his fingers in the metal salute.
A moment later, Lady did the same. Then Church.
Then Lakshmi. Before long, everyone in the bar had their horns up.
Their support made my skin tingle the way a beautiful song did.
Better than any performance ovation I’d ever gotten.
Cassius put a heavy hand on my shoulder. “That is a good many hands willing to fight for your third option, Jack.”
No one cheered or applauded. But the feeling we all shared was like the night when Chuey introduced me to the music.
And that was a great thing after watching them lose Henry and Jimmy, and all the other worries they’d endured the last few days.
Then my friends just went to work—sharpening knives, replacing spent candles, practicing defensive moves Loch had shown them.
Church tapped his cane on the floor. “All belt and braces, are we.” “Loch, Darnell,” I said, “will you be sure anyone who doesn’t have a weapon gets one, and understands the basics?” Loch tipped his top hat. Darnell nodded.
“Now,” I said, “let’s go get some answers from the bastard responsible for this whole mess.”
We returned to the venue side, unlatched the hatch to the stairs, and descended the Steps. “There’s just one thing I need to take care of first . . . but it’s on the way.”