Kareesh and Gramawl knew but I've never told anyone else. Only with you being…' She dried up.
'Yes.' I dropped my hands back to my sides, awkwardly. At least I knew why she pulled away.
She blew her nose on the dishevelled hanky and stuffed it back into her pocket, looking up at me.
'So now what?' she lifted her chin, making a bold effort to put the weight of the past aside. Eyes still puffy, she was determined to move on, rather than dwell on what had been.
'I don't know. I was hoping you'd be able to tell me.'
'The building over the way, there. You said it was the one in your vision. What about it?'
'I don't know. It was mixed up with a whole load of other stuff. I just know it's the one. In the vision there was a sign by the main door carved into the stone, that's all.'
'What does it say?'
'I don't know. I couldn't see it clearly.'
'We should go and look then.'
'Are you sure you're up to this?'
'I'm fine.' She broke into a half smile. 'I thought I was over it, it was all such a long time ago, but when you summoned the gallowfyre… it brought it all back. I know it's wrong to blame you, but…'
'You still do.'
'I don't blame you. I don't. It just feels like I should.'
'Because of what I am?' I rubbed at where the point of the knife had pressed under my chin, feeling the break in the skin.
'The rational part of me knows you aren't him and could never have been him. It's just my feelings haven't caught up with the rest of me yet.
'I understand. Sort of.'
'We should go and have a look at this building of yours. Maybe the writing on the doorway will tell us something.'
I accepted her change of subject and she turned away from the window, straightening her coat, and took the stairway down to ground level. I tagged along, down and through the darkening passage to the heavy street door. Blackbird turned the catch, shot back the bolt and opened the door, spilling daylight into the corridor. We stepped out onto the pavement along the Strand, attracting only mildly curious stares from passers-by. Blackbird let me past and then stood at door, masking what she was doing with her body. It made a low crunk sound and when she tested it again, it was locked.
I stepped across the wide pavement and turned to look at where we had emerged. A sign along the base of the arched window above the street declared it to be the Strand Station of the Piccadilly Railway.
'I've never heard of a Strand Station,' I told her. 'In fact, I didn't know there was a tube station here at all.'
'There isn't. The line was supposed to go through under the Thames but the extension was never built. This is as far as they managed.'
She turned and walked brusquely off down the Strand with me trailing after her. Then she slowed, allowing me to catch up so we could walk alongside each other. It was a small concession, given what she'd told me.
We crossed the busy road when the traffic thinned momentarily and continued across the road down the side of Australia House. The building was roughly triangular in plan, being the easterly point at the end of the long crescent formed by Aldwych alongside the Strand. There were doors for the public set along the side of the building with notices about opening times for the issuing of visas and other documents. Posters of Ayer's Rock, Uhuru or whatever it was called, adorned the walls inside.
We followed the pavement past these until we came to the blunted point of the triangle where the Strand opened out into a wide thoroughfare. A church faced us across the broad paved area where the trees were shedding, the leaves whirling around in a fickle breeze. Turning back, the entrance to Australia House was impressive with tall stone pillars and heavy iron gates folded back against the wall inside the entrance porch. To either side of the doorway, stone statues graced the entrance, while high above the gates a bronze sculpture of heroic figures on untamed horses adorned the frontage. Inside the doorway there were letters picked out in gold, carved into the door pillar where I knew they would be. Blackbird leaned down to inspect the writing.
'What does it say?' I asked.
'It says the stone was laid in…' She translated the roman numerals. '1913. Does that mean anything to you?'
'No. Should it?'
'Are you sure? It must have some significance or you wouldn't have seen it in the vision.'
'Well, perhaps it's not the building that's significant. Maybe we're supposed to meet someone here, or find something?'
I looked around at the roads, busy with passing traffic. No one approached us with a secret code word or a mysterious package. There was a distinct absence of things with clues written on them.
'Do you see anything else that looks familiar?' Blackbird asked.
'Not really. The sign is the right one, but it's just a carving showing when this was built.'
I found myself conscious of the huge ornamental iron gates turned back against the wall on each side of the entrance. They were beautifully made and I couldn't help feeling there was something significant about them.
'I wonder what was here before this was built,' she mused. 'I don't remember anything particularly special.'
'Even if there was something, it was demolished a hundred years ago to make way for this.' I watched the gates, feeling that somehow they were also watching me.
'That isn't a very long time, really. I can't recall that there was anything particular here, though it was a pretty rough area. I'm sure I would remember.'
'So, where does that leave us?'
'It leaves us asking why, I suppose.' Blackbird scanned the surrounding buildings.
The gates definitely had my attention. Were they the thing I was supposed to find here? Were they the clue we were looking for? I found myself reaching out to touch the dark ironwork.
'Perhaps if we ask at th- NO!'
My hand touched the metalwork and a jolt went through me like a lightning bolt. I remember something slamming into my arm and the trees above me spinning, then crashing onto my back on the paving. My breath went out of me and the back of my skull banged against the concrete. For a moment, everything went black.
When I came to, Blackbird was leaning over me. She'd moved me onto my side and had her palm pressed against my forehead. Despite that, a dizzying nausea welled up in me and I threw up the remains of my pasty on the paving slabs. Blackbird leant back until the retching stopped and then handed me a practical hanky. It was still damp.
'Are you all right?'
I nodded weakly, wiping my mouth with it. At least I thought I was OK. I did a mental check for broken bones. My arm was numb where I had touched the gate and the nerves in my hand were jangling.
'Are you OK, mate?' The Australian twang in the question meant that although I couldn't see the questioner I knew we had attracted attention from the building.
'I'm not sure,' Blackbird responded. 'My friend got a shock off those gates just now.'
There was a slight pause. 'That's impossible. They're not electric or anything. He couldn't have done.' A man in uniform, possibly a security guard, walked into my field of view. 'Are you OK, sir?'
'I think I'll be OK in a minute. Can you help me sit up?'
'Do you think that's wise? I could get an ambulance for you, if you like?' The long 'A' of ambulance was almost comical and I found myself smiling at his Australian accent, despite my aching head.
'Well, you've still got a sense of humour about you.' He stepped back and let Blackbird help me to a sitting position. I sat on the cold paving with my head against my knees while the spinning sensation slowly subsided.
'I've never seen anything like it. You went up in the air like you were doing a backwards somersault. I saw it on the monitors.' Clearly this was the most exciting thing that had happened all day and now he had established I wasn't dead he was determined to make the most of it.
'Well you should definitely have those gates checked,' asserted Blackbird with all her authority. 'They caused a nasty accident. Next time someone could be killed.'
