Page 70 of The Dark Mirror

‘You’re not coming, however we get to it,’ I told her. ‘Not with that gammy arm.’

‘Oh, come on, it’s a flesh wound.’

‘Maria,’ Nick said. ‘No.’

‘Well, I’m coming to Naples. Verca, what is the voyant community like there?’

‘Very old and tight knit,’ Verca replied. ‘The city has two main factions of voyants, as well as an underground market in the Catacombe di San Gennaro.’

‘Will they be willing to help us?’

‘Possibly, if I’m with you. I was on good terms with both factions when I lived there.’

‘The Ranthen will want to be part of getting Arcturus back, and they’ll be useful on the island,’ I said. ‘I need somewhere discreet for them to meet us.’

As Verca thought about it, she chased her salmon with a sip of pale wine.

‘The Antro della Sibilla,’ she concluded. ‘It’s a cave we used for séance parties, but it would make a good place for a secret meeting. It’s said the Cumaean Sibyl used to live there.’

Nick looked curious. ‘A sibyl?’

‘Yes. Some Neapolitan voyants worship her,’ Verca said. ‘Legend says the god Apollo granted her long life, but when she refused to sleep with him, he elected not to preserve her youth. Her body shrivelled until it could fit inside a jar, and then only her voice was left. And whenever people asked what she wanted, the sibyl would say she wanted to die.’

‘That could be the most dismal story I’ve ever heard,’ Maria said. ‘And I was in prison.’

‘A cave sounds perfect,’ I said. ‘Where is it?’

‘Pozzuoli, on the outskirts of the province of Naples,’ Verca said. ‘I’ll mark it on a map for you.’

‘Thanks. Once we’re there, I can assess Capri from a distance,’ I said. ‘Since it was only cleared in the last few weeks, we think any defences will be minimal, but we need to do this as soon as possible, before Scion boosts security.’

‘There’ssomethingthere,’ Nick said, ‘or those investigation teams would still be with us. But I doubt the situation will improve with time.’ ‘Capri is a large island, Paige. To search it, you’ll need locals, or you and the Ranthen will be wandering in the dark for hours,’ Verca said. ‘Many voyants in Naples prefer to speak Napoletano. I can intercede with them, so you have people on the ground to help.’

‘I suppose I could always stand on the shore and set fire to a few spirits, in case you need a beacon.’ Maria sighed. ‘Thirty-six years without being stabbed. It really had to be this month.’

Verca patted her knee. I poured myself a little wine, telling myself there was reason to feel optimistic. Now I just had to hope that Terebell had something to confirm my suspicions.

And that we, unlike the others, would return from Capri.

Ducos had agreed to drive me to Bologna, a city about two hours from Venice, to meet with Terebell. With the knowledge that I might need all my strength to search Capri, I rested until Wednesday morning, when I rose early to eat breakfast and assemble a decent outfit.

Since the warmth showed no sign of easing, I dressed in a grey singlet, the wedge sandals and black shorts that buttoned high on my waist. I propped on my sunglasses and scrutinised myself in the mirror. Terebell was going to think I looked like a tourist, but that had to be preferable to an overheated mess. I covered the sunburn with a shirt.

Before long, Ducos knocked for me, and Noemi took us to the car park. Soon we were driving away from Venice, the city that had forced me to live alongside water. Little by little, I was growing used to its constant sparkle, the sound of the waves swashing under my window.

The journey was a blur of fields. Even with the wind in my hair, the white aster towed me back to sleep. Ducos parked and shook me awake, and we made towards a high brick wall.

‘This is the Certosa di Bologna, the municipal cemetery,’ she said. ‘I can see why your contact wanted to meet here. It’s quiet at this time of day. No better place for a private conversation.’

‘Very amaurotic remark,’ I said. She eyed me. ‘You think the spirits don’t eavesdrop?’

‘Oh, do shut up.’

Two sculptures flanked the entrance, mourning over jars. As we strode between them, my awareness of the æther climbed, as it always did in cemeteries. Ducos led me along a sun-baked path, lined with evergreens, cutting straight through a garden of bones. Most of the graves were pale mausoleums; some housed their own statues, posed in thought or lamentation. Though it wasn’t yet midday, the air was thick and warm as fresh caramel. I was grateful for the shade when we entered a gallery, which overlooked one of the cloisters.

Ducos leaned against the balustrade. A few spirits came up to me, flirting with my aura. Most of them seemed content in this place, even if they had chosen not to move on.

Meet the one you summoned at the Certosa di Bologna, two days hence, when the sun is highest.

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