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Once the day’s proceedings are over, my family surround me.
“What happened in there?” Mum, hands on her hip.
“I thought he was going to break you, but then you made him leave.” Liam, slightly awed.
“What do you make of that other lawyer?” Chrissie, frowning.
I cross my arms. “That was okay for day one. Now I need to make plans for tomorrow.”
Even if Gabriel’s left, there are other Thornbers around, and there’s no way I can keep up a sustained conversation with my family in public without risking my cover. My body language, my emotion, all of it will just be wrong.
Connor glances at my father. When Dad nods, the enforcer leads me back out to his car.
“Well done,” he says, once we’re inside. “How are you feeling? You look tired.”
“I’m fine. The first day’s always the hardest.” Sadly, that’s not strictly true, but I need to keep up morale.
“Have you still got a headache?”
“It’s fading.”
“Then how about grabbing some food? It can’t be healthy, always eating by yourself, never leaving The Windmill.”
He’s leaning forward like he’s about to launch into a stream of arguments in favour of this idea, but I surprise him with a nod. “Where did you have in mind?”
“There’s this great new Indian restaurant if you’re up for heading into town.”
“Perfect. It’ll be fun to explore the centre.”
We tend to refer to the whole area within the Dome as Mannith, but it encompasses a variety of elements. The bit where my parents live and where The Windmill is situated is the original medieval town, but by modern standards, it’s basically suburban. Farther out, there are some completely rural places with isolated farms and houses—Thornber Manor, for a start—and some slightly more developed small country villages. In between, there’s the late Victorian town centre, half of which is still given over to industry, while the other is busy with shoppers during the day and those seeking a good time in the evening. My family owns many of the bars directly and a large proportion of the others are run by those involved with or at least loyal to the family, but even as a teenager, unless Chrissie near-forced me, I never visited much.
We head straight to the new restaurant, the Cardamom. It’s nothing special, but the food is decent and the atmosphere cheery. Connor doesn’t say much, but he’s a relaxing, comfortable presence, as well as easy on the eye. I don’t speak much either. I’m worn out from the day I’ve had, and it would be tiring to spin a cover story about Kate Elner’s life. He looks at me protectively and doesn’t seem to mind. I try to study his body language. Is he still just doing his duty, or does he see this as something resembling a date?
“Fancy a quick drink before we head back to The Windmill?” he asks, once the last plates have been cleared away. No bills have appeared. The restaurant must also be under Sadler control.
“I ought to get some prep for tomorrow done. But one drink won’t hurt.”
“Are you okay to walk? There’s a great bar five minutes away.”
My shoes are killing me. I wish we could travel with magic. But I nod, and he takes my arm.
It’s a beautiful evening—it’s always a beautiful evening in Mannith. The air is warm but fresh, and the stars are visible despite the bright lights of the city. Different food smells mingle in the air, complementing rather than clashing with each other, and music and chatter drifts out from bars. Everywhere, locals are out, dressed up and enjoying themselves. People make more effort here for a casual trip to the pub than they do for a big party back in London.
We turn the corner into a deserted courtyard that separates two side streets. At almost the same moment, Gabriel and his entourage enter from the other side.
It’s unclear whether it’s an ambush or the universe toying with me again. Either way, they stride towards us like they already own the town.
They’ve obviously been enjoying a night out, too. Most of the women are heavily made up, with the plump lips and sculpted contours that only magical enhancement can achieve. They’ve presumably got the long eyelashes that Chrissie and Leah sport as well, though their dark sunglasses make it impossible to tell. There’s a sameness about them, as though overuse of beautification spells over several years has gradually erased their natural differences. The prettiest one—wavy blonde hair down to her tiny waist and glorious bone structure—is hanging onto Gabriel’s arm possessively.
There’s one notable exception. The woman on Gabriel’s other side—not touching him, but standing extremely close—has dark hair cropped to her chin and no make-up bar a slash of scarlet lipstick. She’s wearing jeans and a black T-shirt in place of a tiny dress, though her heels are still several inches high. Her brown skin is a depressingly rare sight in Mannith.
The men are in the ubiquitous black jeans they all wore to court, but now accompanied by a variety of smart shirts. They’ve all got aggressively gelled-back hair, aftershave I can smell from several metres away, and of course, massive, mirrored sunglasses.
I’m studying the gang so intently in an attempt to avoid actually looking at Gabriel. It’s one thing seeing him across a crowded courtroom, quite another to be face to face with him. But my eyes have a mind of their own, and against my conscious will, I find myself staring. He’s in suit trousers and a fitted blue and white striped shirt. His hair is slicked back like his friends and minions, but he hasn’t bothered with sunglasses. It’s like he wants people to see his haunting eyes. Right now, though, apart from their shape, there’s nothing much to see. The over-large, diamond irises are a deep brown. Pretty but unremarkable.
He shrugs off his date’s arm and walks right across to me, while the rest of the group stands in place. My blood rushes to my head. I wish there were somewhere to sit down. I settle for huddling closer to Connor.
“Good evening, Ms Elner,” he says, imbuing my assumed name with a deep touch of scepticism.
