When Julius Grimaldi reaches the Bridge, he finds every member of the crew crammed inside. All of them are facing the big screen at the back, in silhouette to the shambling figure with the white mane of hair. He gives no more than a glance at the bizarre footage of the bald-headed brute from the market that morning. What concerns the old man is the air of silent tension among his young street magicians. It’s as if they believe this sinister figure, caught on camera up there, might somehow conjure his way off the screen and into their world.
“I’m back,” says Julius, but nobody turns to greet him. “Hello?”
He sighs, and concludes it’s only natural that these young illusionists and tricksters might be dumbstruck by evidence of real magick. He considers the figure in the mink once more, apparently leaving his mark in time as he prowls through Chinatown, and wonders what spell a rogue master of the discipline might cast over Yoshi should he be first to track him down.
On discovering his young charge gone from the bank vault, Julius had simply turned and retraced his steps back here. Any attempt to follow Yoshi on foot seemed futile. Julius was in the winter of his years, after all. The boy was more agile, and possibly more daring, than the old man could ever hope to be. Wherever the lad had taken himself, he would just have to go there alone. Besides, with what Julius had learned from Billy’s call, Yoshi’s destination might just be located on screen before the boy even arrived at it.
Charged up by the plan he intends to share with the crew, Julius clears his throat and says: “Would everyone face me!” He claps his hands, in vain it seems, for nobody turns from the on-screen action.
Julius sighs deeply to himself, and spots Billy at the controls. There he is, running the tape in slow motion until the moment the brute seemingly melts out of the market. At that point Billy stops, and winds back through the same sequence as if someone might spot how it’s done.
“My guess is it’s a spirit of some sort,” the Executive Deck Hand says out loud, oblivious to the old man at the back, just like everyone else. “We’re looking at Chinatown here, after all. I’ve heard Mae Ling say that opium vampires haunt the neighbourhood passageways. According to her, those blood-freaks often surface from their smoking dens to haunt the alleyways in search of fresh prey.”
“Really?” pipes up one small boy, looking very pale all of a sudden.
“So he is a spectre,” says one of Billy’s wingmen from across the floor. “I knew it as soon as I set eyes on him.”
“Once they’ve sucked the life out of their victims,” continues Billy solemnly, “they bleed them dry of money and score the drugs they need to sedate themselves again. A horde of opium vampires has haunted this quarter for well over a hundred years, apparently. Ever since the community was founded, according to Mae Ling. If Yoshi is his next victim, maybe we’ll be next. He might pick us off, one by one.”
“Don’t spook me!” squeaks the kid. “I haven’t been frightened for years.”
“It isn’t a ghost or an opium vampire.” This is Mikhail, addressing everyone crossly. “It’s a myth. An unpleasant kind that’s often cooked up when immigrants settle, and I should know. I am proud to be from Russia, but that does not mean I have ever worn a fur hat and danced like a Cossack! Even stupid people accept that once they get to know me, and quit demonising me for being different from them.”
“But I heard the story from Mae Ling!” protests Billy sheepishly.
“Like so many of these tall stories,” Mikhail tells him, “it’s become part of Chinatown’s folklore. The residents here might be a superstitious sort, but since when did we buy into anything that has no explanation, huh?”
“So if he isn’t a drug-addicted Dracula then explain what’s happening here!” Billy jabs a finger at the big screen, and rewinds the sequence once again. “Does anyone have any answers?”
The hush that follows is even thicker than the silence in which Julius had found them. He steps back to the door to take it all in. Never has he witnessed a crew seem so unsure of themselves. He finds himself reflecting on all those generations of runaways and street children who have found their feet here over the years. Across the surface of this city – he consoles himself with a note of pride – a small but growing band of adults are making the most of their lives, thanks to the chance this bunker offered them. Sure, a few continue to perform illusions on the streets. Indeed, one individual has even made it as a celebrity mind manipulator. Even those who pursue careers in everything from air traffic control to zoology still stow the odd trick up their sleeve. A little juggling of incoming aircraft could help avoid disaster, as could misdirection when entering the lions’ den to remove a thorn from a paw. Whatever walk of life they now tread, however, every single individual remains united in wanting to keep this bunker the best-kept secret in town. There is nothing to hide in this old tin can, admits Julius to himself, but peeling away the lid would expose too many vulnerable souls to the miserable existence they’ve each escaped.
For a kid like Yoshi, it didn’t just place him in danger, but could threaten all London as well. Having seen the child’s potential, and with his memory of the mute boy’s powers fresh in his mind once more, Julius considers his crew and wonders if any more gifted individuals exist within this city.
The old man twiddles his fingers as he thinks. He goes through the times he has tried and failed to tap into the energy whizzing around the Faerie Ring. Yoshi may not have restored the power with one touch. Then again, the poor lad appeared to have lost all memory of his gift. Maybe it would come to him in time, decides Julius, and remembers briefly that he has returned to the Bridge in order to retrieve him. Having lost one poor soul with the same extraordinary gift, all those years ago, he is not going to fail Yoshi in the same way.
“May I please have your attention,” he asks, with a hint of exasperation, only to fall as quiet as his crew. For a thought catches up with him that brightens his eyes. His restless fingers fall still, struck now by a solution to the conundrum that has consumed so many of his years. Then he begins to count, his digits uncurling one at a time: a full hand on his left side, one finger and thumb on the other.
“Seven!” he declares under his breath, thinking of the times this sacred number has featured as part of the puzzle. “To master the ring, there have to be seven individuals who share the same gift as Yoshi.”
Looking at it like this made the solution seem so simple. Firstly there had been the plate on his dog tag with the numerical sequence stamped onto it. Then there was the Seven Dials, the name of the monument where Julius had introduced Yoshi to the mystery at the heart of his life’s work. This self-styled archeoastronomer and psychogeographer had shown him some breathtaking patterns that appeared to bind this city to some kind of cosmic order: the seven stars in the sky, the seven steeples aligned to them, and finally one of seven waypoints underneath each church, connecting seven ley lines in the Faerie Ring. Altogether, this amounted to just six elements. The seventh element was the seven gifted souls. So in accordance with the pattern, Yoshi alone was not enough. He might be tuned into the energies encircling the city, but recharging them demanded seven pairs of hands – not one. With all of them trained to connect with a waypoint properly – why, the energy they might conjure between them could protect the city for centuries! Alternatively, they could open up London to the very worst of all possible futures. That, he thinks to himself, depends on who brings them together.
“Oh dear,” whispers Julius, and carries his gaze from floor to screen.
This time, he sees the figure up there in a very different light. The trail behind him is of no interest. He knew what was causing it straight away. After all, cameras often captured auras in people who possessed psychic abilities. The nature of the haze depended on the level of their gift, of course. In very rare cases, such a mist of psychic energy is forceful enough to be seen with the naked eye, but Julius has never encountered an individual in possession of such powers. Even if the crew believed him, now is not the time for a lesson in earth magick. This brute is clearly in pursuit of a similar goal, thinks Julius. As soon as Yoshi had identified him from the sketches drawn by the mute boy, he suspected they shared an interest in mining the same hidden seams of superhuman ability. Judging by the way the man had menaced both kids, however, it was likely their intentions for the ring couldn’t be more different. What alarms the old man is the fact that Yoshi is no longer under his wing. This figure captured by the street cameras had clearly returned to Chinatown to track him down. Heaven help us all, he thinks to himself, considering the worst that could happen should the brute catch up with his quarry.
Mindful of the challenge they face in clawing the boy back to their fold, Julius brings his hands together with a commanding clap.
“This man is no ghost!” he announces, and is delighted to see everyone turn as if he’s only just swept in. “But his existence could haunt us for a long time unless we act now. Yoshi is at large somewhere. But your so-called spectre is not out to haunt him. Oh, no. He’s out to hunt him. If we fail to get to Yoshi first this bunker could be history for a second time – in a city quite literally on the rocks.”
“So what can we do?” asks Mikhail.
“Start by forgetting about the trail he’s left behind for the camera.” Julius strides onto the Bridge with a purpose now, parting the crew as he speaks. “There is a simple explanation, but none of you will accept it until you learn to be more like your audience, and suspend your disbelief. Right now, what matters doesn’t lie behind this fur-lined hulk. Forget about this blur, or whatever you want to call it. For Yoshi’s sake, we need to discover where he was heading!” The last of the crew move to one side as he briefs them, revealing Billy at the controls. “Can you do that?” asks Julius, resting his hands on the back of the boy’s chair.
The Executive Deck Hand sucks the air between his teeth. “Can I do that?” He cracks his knuckles noisily. It’s a show of confidence that had been badly lacking just a moment earlier. “I could’ve tracked Yoshi down hours ago if this sorry bunch hadn’t spooked themselves so badly. Honestly, you should have heard some of the suggestions. It was embarrassing!”
“I did,” Julius leans over Billy to find one crimson ear, “and it was.”