London
Present Day
One of the world’s most powerful Guardians, second only to Matt and Em’s grandfather Renard, Henrietta de Court was an elegant woman with an extensive knowledge of poisons and a passion for exquisite hats. On this particular morning she was wearing a flouncy feathery one that draped over her high forehead.
She had in her possession a polished wooden cane with a carved peryton at its hilt and an explosive secret. She was running late for a meeting with Sir Charles in the Council of Guardian chambers – a confrontation, if she were to be honest, that she’d been putting off for years.
The Council of Guardians had been in existence ever since the formation of the Royal Academy in the 1760s had given English Animare such as Sir Joshua Reynolds and Thomas Gainsborough a legitimate means of support for their imaginative capabilities. The Guardians had constructed their original Council Chamber beneath the Foundling’s Hospital in Bloomsbury, where the Academy had held its first show of work by its members. Up until then, Guardians and Animare in England had been only loosely bound to each other, left to live very much on their own wits, and only formally gathering for two important, timeless rituals: the binding of an Animare whose powers had either grown too strong or were out of control, and the lifelong union of an Animare to his or her Guardian. More than two hundred and fifty years later, the Guardians had Councils all over the world. The protection of Animare and their valuable talents had remained strong in all that time.
Until now.
Henrietta tutted. Not only was she late, she needed to make a detour to the rare-book library on the third floor before the meeting. Marching towards the entrance to the Royal Academy at Burlington House, she saw the queue waiting to clear security and made a quick decision. Dangerous times called for dangerous actions. Rules be damned.
A middle-aged couple looking at a map of the London Underground stood in front of her. Henrietta put her hand on the man’s shoulder, sensing instantly that he was hungry and annoyed about waiting in yet another queue. She gently pushed a series of images into his mind – scones topped with jam and clotted cream, steaming cups of tea. His wife blinked a couple of times as Henrietta filled her mind with a fog of confusion.
‘The tea shop across the way has such delicious treats,’ Henrietta murmured.
The man’s expression cleared. ‘I think a cuppa is in order,’ he said, pulling his wife towards the door. Henrietta smiled as they hurried quickly out of the courtyard to the street.
Henrietta worked through the rest of the people more quickly, tickling minds with compassion for the woman in the flouncy hat and an overwhelming desire to let her into the building as quickly as possible. One by one, the queue parted and Henrietta glided to the front.
She avoided the busy lift and marched up the wide stairs to the second floor, the tip of her cane tapping the marble steps like a claw. Ignoring the tourists and one or two artists at work in front of paintings, she carried on through the main hall to a smaller gallery and the entrance to the rare-book library. Turning left at the end of the gallery, Henrietta walked into a narrow anteroom where she stopped at the security desk.
A girl with short blond hair sat behind the desk. She stood, quickly skimming the names on her list of scholars expected to use the private reading room that day.
‘We’re not open yet, Professor de Court,’ she said apologetically, ‘and I don’t believe I have your name on our list.’
‘Really, Lucy,’ said Henrietta in her most irritable voice, ‘is this necessary?’
Turning a little pink, the receptionist turned to pick up her phone. ‘Let me double-check with Sir Charles,’ she said.
Henrietta sighed, tapping her cane on the floor. She knew the routine. She’d have to wait for someone from Sir Charles’s office to come down and escort her to a table. There, she would be required to fill out a form (in triplicate) and wait for her ID to be checked (twice). And then she’d have to wait for the book she wanted to be delivered to her table, where someone would watch over her as she pulled on the necessary white gloves before turning its delicate pages.
She didn’t have time for such bureaucratic nonsense this morning and she certainly didn’t want so much attention called to her actions.
For the second time in less than an hour, Henrietta broke the rules. She placed her hand gently on the receptionist’s arm and smiled.
Seconds later, using Lucy’s ID, the lock on the double glass doors clicked and popped open with a hiss. Henrietta hooked the peryton cane over her forearm and walked sure-footed into the rare-book library.