Black London 05 - Soul Trade

think we’re friends after this.”
    “I have enough friends,” said Morwenna, also standing and smoothing her skirt. “What I need are allies.” The fleeting moment of vulnerabilitywas gone and she gripped Pete’s hand, her fingers like warm iron bands around Pete’s small bones.
    “You’ve got them,” Pete said, squeezing back, not wanting to be the first one to let go. “By dint of being a devious bitch.”
    “Welcome to the fold,” Morwenna said with a thin, razor-sharp smile. “You’re a Promethean now.”

 
    11.
    Jack stayed quiet until the Prometheans had deposited them, their mobiles and IDs, and their luggage on the sidewalk, and he glowered as the cab wound back toward the train station. Pete sighed as they pulled to the curb and the taxi driver waved away her cash. “It’s taken care of, luv.”
    “You going to pout much longer?” she asked Jack.
    Jack’s lip curled. “This is a little beyond pouting.”

    “Look,” Pete said. “By rights, I should be the one in a snit. She tricked me, and she’s a damned liar. At least we’re out of there.”
    “Yeah, and thank Christ and his fleet of rowboats for that,” Jack said. His whole frame twitched, unease evident with every breath. He looked like he had in the bad old days, when he was looking for his next fix of either magic or heroin. Pete felt the uncomfortablesensation of memories that she’d rather stayed drowned breaking the surface.
    “I’m sorry,” Pete said softly, hefting her suitcase. She felt uncomfortable looking back at the spot where Preston had died. Was what Morwenna said true? Had he been dipping into black magic that drove him crazy?
    Or would the Prometheans would have done worse to her if they’d found the soul cage? “I’m sorry, Jack,”she said again. “I was trying to do what wouldn’t get us killed or put on yet another hit list. Forgive me if I’m not sufficiently guns a-blazing for your taste.”
    “Petunia, it is not just you anymore!” Jack burst out, his voice echoing off the broken brick fronts of the nearby flats. “It’s me, and it’s Lily, too. You call me irresponsible, but you’ve never once thought about yourself in all this.You have an obligation to stay in one piece now. We need you.” He gripped her by the hands, harder than Morwenna ever had, so hard she inhaled a sharp breath. “ I need you.”
    Pete looked at her boots, willing her tears not to spill. “I know, Jack. I’m doing this for you.” She looked at him. “How much longer do you think either of us can avoid the Hag? What will happen to Lily then?”
    Jack wasn’tgiven to demonstrations, so Pete was surprised when he wrapped his arms around her hard enough to drive the air from her lungs. She returned the gesture, patting his back, hands caressing the rough leather. “I’d never let that happen,” he muttered against Pete’s neck. “I’d never let her hurt you.”
    “Jack,” Pete sighed. She drew back at arm’s length. “You can’t promise that. I can’t promise thatnothing will happen to me during this little stunt Morwenna cooked up, but I can promise that if I don’t do it, eventually things will go past the point of no return, and that’ll be in. End reel, roll credits. And seeing as I like things the way they are, I’m going to do my damndest to make sure the Morrigan never gets her Hell on earth.” She squeezed Jack’s hand. “I’m not afraid. Not of this.I’m more afraid you won’t be with me.”
    Jack looked at the floor sighed heavily. “’Course I will,” he said. “You’re the only person I stick me neck out for. You know that. Anyone else would be shite out of luck.”
    “You’re so romantic,” Pete said.
    “That’s me,” Jack agreed, pulling her close again. “Man of the fuckin’ year.”
    The loudspeaker was blatting that their train was about to depart, soPete bought two rushed and hideously expensive tickets from the machine and jogged onboard with Jack. Once she’d sat, the last thing Morwenna had said really hit her, almost pressing her physically into her seat.
    It had been a long time since the Treadwell case—not in years, but certainly in experience. She hadn’t kept in contact with the families of any of the children Algernon Treadwell haddrained of soul and feeling to sustain his spirit, and she’d gotten the distinct feeling they wanted it that way.
    Now, though, she was going in blind, and she didn’t like it. She brought her mobile to life,