Zoë had worried about losing more blood to repay her debt to the voodoo shop, but it turned out the owner was so happy about the return of his missing sister, the old citytalker from the Doyenne’s houseboat, he called it square.
Her gris-gris bag was gone, all its power burned away to protect Zoë from the release of the Doyenne’s concealment spell. She turned down his offer for a new bag, saying she’d let them know if she needed anything in the future.
Zoë also visited Public Works again to report Christian’s death to the Poison Ivy receptionist, and after allowing the woman to cry on her for a while (all the while batting away curious vines trying to entwine their mistress to comfort her), Zoë asked what the woman knew about imprisoning water sprites. Namely, could they be frozen?
“Of course they can,” Poison Ivy said, sniffling. “That’s how we held most of the sprites we caught after Katrina.”
“How do you thaw them? Can they be hurt by the process?”
“I don’t know. We’ve never thawed one before,” Ivy said, thinking.
“Good enough, thanks,” Zoë said, and left, deep in thought.
The rest of the trip was relatively uneventful. They gathered their information, they took notes, met for meals to discuss chapters, and continued research. They attended another ball hosted by He Who Kills and Is Thanked for It, and Zoë even danced with the host.
Arthur spent much of his time with Opal, and Zoë would talk to him nightly about what he had learned. He enjoyed testing his new abilities, but his first feeding on a human was traumatic for him, even though it was a mugger who had just rolled a young tourist.
“Just think. You were like Batman. Hey, maybe Batman is a vampire,” Zoë suggested, which made him laugh.
The time was over all too quickly, and the Sunday after Mardi Gras, with the city moaning in Zoë’s head as if she had the biggest hangover ever, Zoë boarded the ghost train.
Lastly, both Arthur and Anna resigned from their jobs. For different reasons.
Arthur got to sit in first class with Opal, using Kevin’s ticket. He looked resigned, used to Opal’s maternal attention, even if he may not have liked it. Right after Zoë had settled into her seat, her phone dinged with a text.
I AM GOING TO REGRET THIS, AREN’T I?
She smiled. IT’S BETTER THAN THE ALTERNATIVE, RIGHT?
The response was immediate. THAT REMAINS TO BE SEEN.
YOU WILL GET USED TO IT. AT LEAST YOU’RE IN FIRST-CLASS. ALSO, COACH SUCKS.
Ten minutes before the train was set to leave, someone sat in front of Zoë, across the table from her. Reynard’s wounds from the battle were still fresh, but he moved with an easy grace.
Zoë looked back calmly at this man she wasn’t sure she should have saved.
“Why did you run? You won, the Doyenne died,” she asked, finally. “You did your job. Or someone did, anyway.”
“It’s not wise to be around too many gods,” he said. “They can figure us out faster than most people. Besides, as you said, my job was done.”
Zoë raised an eyebrow. “You run away a lot. It seems I might be better at your job than you are.”
“Would you like to do my job?” He smiled that cocky smile.
“Not really,” Zoë said. “Assassination is not really my thing.”
Reynard examined his fingers. “I prefer to be considered a cleaner. I get rid of messes.”
Zoë leaned back in her seat, trying to her hide her anxiety. “So how long until I’m a mess, Reynard? A rogue citytalker with no allegiance? When will you come clean me up?”
“You could avoid it entirely. Come with me for training, learn about the cities, learn about the coterie. Your skills are raw, but strong. You need a mentor.”
Zoë shook her head slowly. “I’m not sure I want to be an assassin. Or a maid. Cleaner. Whatever.”
Reynard nodded once and slid a business card across the table. “Have a good trip home, Zoë. I’ll see you around,” he said. Then he exited the train.
The card was blank except for an address in tiny, cramped, precise writing. It was an address in England, but that’s all Zoë knew.
The location of the Grey Cabal? Is this the recruiting Phil mentioned would come?
Probably. They don’t want to lose a power like yours. The city sounded soft and sad. She’d been relatively quiet since morning, when Zoë had firmly informed her that she was leaving.
Zoë stashed the card in her pocket and looked out the window at the city in the night.
I’m sorry I tried to kidnap you. I just like you so much.
“I understand,” she whispered.
The other talker did say he’ll keep me company until he has to leave for London.
Zoë sat up straight and felt the train’s engines come to life. “Really?”
Sure, and he said some really interesting things about the Grey Cabal! We joined last night, and he told me that they were recruiting, and that he had a promising… As the bullet train gained speed, it shot out of the city limits, and the voice in her head stopped.
“Shit. She couldn’t have told me that stuff earlier?” Zoë muttered as she fished the card out of her pocket again. While researching the book, she had ignored the occasional pleas from the city to forgive her, and discovered she could access the power of the city without engaging her in conversation while she was doing her research. She had decided to forgive the city before she left, and realized she probably should have done so earlier.
She punched the address into her phone, and found a small village west of London. The Grey Cabal couldn’t be in a city, she remembered.
“He will recruit you or hunt you,” Phil had said.
He had also said they needed to find out more about the Grey Cabal.
“Looks like I’m going to England. I wonder if I can get Phil to take the Shambling Guides international.”
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