Page 5 of The Bone Season

Over decades, a voyant underworld had developed, forming a cutthroat syndicate. To protect ourselves, we had grown hard and cruel. Since then, Scion had worked even harder to root us out.

Once Senshield was installed across the citadel, the syndicate would collapse. We had two years to act, but with Hector as Underlord, I doubted we could save ourselves. His reign had brought nothing but corruption.

It had been fun while it lasted.

The train went past three stops without incident. I had just closed theDescendantwhen the lights went out, and the train came to a sudden halt. The other passenger straightened in his seat.

‘They’re going to search the train.’

I tried to reply, but suddenly my tongue was a thick piece of folded cloth.

‘To maintain a regular service, this train will be held here for a short time,’the voice of Scarlett Burnish said.‘Thank you for your cooperation.’

We both looked out of the window, seeing only the tunnel wall and our own reflections. Just ahead, I sensed two dreamscapes. A door must have opened somewhere in the darkness.

‘We have to do something.’ The seer got up. ‘What are you?’

I still couldn’t speak.

‘I know you’re voyant,’ he pressed. ‘Don’t just sit there. We can fight.’ He wiped his brow with his sleeve. ‘Of all the days for a spot check—’

Just then, two beams of light shone into the carriage. The other voyant retreated at once.

This could not be happening.

I could not be this unlucky.

They stepped inside. A summoner and his backup, a medium, both in black uniforms with scarlet accents, helmets with visors that covered their eyes. The doors hissed shut in their wake.

The Underguards went to the seer first. The train resumed its journey, inching on with the lights dimmed.

‘Name,’ one of them said.

‘Linwood,’ the seer whispered. ‘Please. I can pay you.’

‘I don’t think so.’ The helmet distorted his voice. ‘We had a report of an unnatural travelling on this line, but it seems we’ll be hanging two with one rope.’

‘Tell us where you were going,’ the backup said. ‘A séance?’

‘I was visiting my daughter in hospital. She has cystic fibrosis,’ Linwood said. ‘I have the necessary permit from—’

‘Get up,’ the first Underguard barked at me. I stood. ‘Where’s your identity card?’

I slowly reached into my coat for it. He pointed his scanner, reading my notes from the database: Paige Eva Mahoney, born in 2040. A resident of I-5, employed in I-4. Five foot nine. No distinctive features but dark lips, probably caused by excessive smoking.

I had never smoked in my life.

‘Mahoney.’ His voice held a familiar disdain. ‘Show me your travel permit.’

Once I had found it, I handed it over. He was going through the motions, forcing me to do the same, but this was a mockery of justice. It didn’t matter who I was or where I was going.

I was still a dead woman.

‘An attendant at an oxygen bar. Not with that aura,’ he said. ‘Who issued this permit?’

It took me a moment to find my voice: ‘Bill Bunbury, my supervisor.’

He angled his torch into my eyes. All I could do was let him.

---