Ilsa held her breath. Looked from the corner where Ferrien had disappeared to the other wolf, Georgiana, stalking south with her back to their hiding place. She cast about her for another unseen guardsperson, but there were none. It seemed he was telling the truth; her way to freedom was clear.
But did she want it? Was it right?
“After me, then,” said the boy, and quick as lightning he was gone, replaced by a raven as black as his panther form. He soared softly across the lawn, dipped over the wall, and vanished into the park while Georgiana at the west gate still faced away.
Ilsa got to her feet, then took to the sky. She pushed herself high then let gravity and the tilt of her wings send her swooping across the lawn and over the garden wall. She followed the raven as he swooped low over the park and landed in a copse of trees some distance from the house, where he leaned against an oak tree and waited for her. Ilsa transformed in the air and dropped to earth beside him, landing gracefully on her feet. She swung around, ears pricked, waiting to catch the movement of a wolf bounding towards them or the rustle of heavy paws crunching foliage.
There was nothing, but as Ilsa studied the scene, something else slowly dawned on her.
She had thought this place was different through the portal, and she’d been right.
“There ain’t no zoo here.”
Ilsa knew this corner of Regent’s Park well. It was the site of the zoological gardens. She had sneaked in more times than she could count, as either a bird or a mouse, before shifting somewhere private and joining the patrons. Most of her more extravagant transformations – all of which relied on studying an animal in the flesh: the way it moved, its curves and edges – had been made possible by its inventory. It was dismaying to discover that what was such a wondrous place in the Otherworld was nothing but a big, white mansion in this one.
“Oh, there’s a zoo,” said the boy. “You’re looking at it. The seat of Camden, some would say. Not quite what you’re used to in the Otherworld, but rest assured, though there are fewer bars there are just as many animals.”
The Zoo. Of course; that’s what Captain Fowler had called it.
The boy pushed off the tree and started strolling back towards the house. “Now if this experiment of yours is over, I think I’ll take tea. Alone. Oh, and don’t escape in that direction if you still fear being seen. Make a straight line towards—”
“What are they keeping out?”
He stopped mid-stride and turned to face her. “I beg your pardon?”
“You said the wolves weren’t here to keep me in. So what are they guarding this place from?”
It must have been a stupid question. He studied her a moment as if to gauge if she was serious.
“You know nothing of London,” he said ponderously. “Do you?”
Ilsa folded her arms. “I know everything ’bout London. I’ve lived here my whole life.”
He shook his head, the downturn of his mouth at once miserable and mocking. “Not in this London. For a start, it’s not one city. It’s six.”
“Six?”
“Six peoples. Six factions. Six territories.”
Ilsa swallowed. London is not what it was meant to be, Captain Fowler had said. He had failed to mention that acolytes, wolves, and whatever army he belonged to were only half the soldiers staking their claim to a part of it.
“Do you see those lanterns?” He pointed to a spot at the west edge of the park. It was so far away, and the shapes of trees and houses knitted together in similar shades of grey, but sure enough, half a dozen specks of light burned on; some stationary, others clearly held aloft by hand. “That’s a guard point. It marks the boundary of Camden and the Heart, the Sorcerers’ quarter.”
“Sorcerers.” Ilsa was struck with notions of enchanted castles and magical bargains. “Could a Sorcerer… move too quick to see, or step through a wall?”
“Stars, no,” he said. He was warming to his role now. Ilsa feared it was her bewilderment that entertained him. Before she could utter the question of what a Sorcerer could do, he turned and pointed past the house. “But a Wraith could. The faction of the North. They can pass through solid objects if they choose to. Walls, yes. Locked doors. Hence their name. Not to mention their formidable strength and heightened senses.”
So that was how Captain Fowler had appeared from the brick when she was hiding in the fish market. He was a Wraith.
The boy turned ninety degrees again. “Venture east and you will soon reach a guard point to Whitechapel, the territory of the Whisperers. Mind readers. Thought benders. Don’t let their lack of physical magic fool you, they are as dangerous as any of us. A Whisperer can make their victim forget their loved ones, their values, their self-preservation. Can make them crave violence, sex, death even. They can wipe a mind clean and refill it with whatever, and whomever, they choose.
“Follow the Thames east and you will reach the Docklands, as I’m sure you know, expert that you are.” He smiled wryly. “There you will find the Oracles. I understand you don’t need me to warn you about them.
“And then there are the Psi. You can imagine the debates we enjoy this side of the portal. Which magic is most formidable? Which is mightiest in combat? Well, I favour the Psi. Their magic is psychokinesis. The ability to influence the physical with their mind.” He laughed humourlessly.
