The Shadow Cabinet (28 page)

“No,” I said. “No, I'm not looking for that. I don't want you to say you know how bad it's been. I know how bad it's been. All this stuff I couldn't say, well, it's all coming out. There won't be any secrets. And it's not all bad—there's stuff that actually makes sense too. There's good stuff too. But you know what? We need to do that later. People need us now. I know you don't like being in the dark—no one likes that. Sometimes you have to go with it. This is one of those times. I need you to trust me. I know that's kind of crazy to ask, considering, but you just have to do it, because—look around.”

The street was really, really quiet. Everyone could hear me.

Jerome was still standing there, bobbing the car key nervously. It was time for something more decisive. I was going to have to do this, even though I wasn't sure what it meant, even with Stephen behind me. I walked right up to Jerome, got right up against his chest, and took the lapels of his coat. Our faces were inches apart.

“Us breaking up,” I said. “It was all this stuff. You think I didn't want to say?”

He swallowed hard. I was close enough to smell his breath. Jerome had very sweet breath. And I was lying to him—well, I wasn't being entirely truthful. But I was doing this for a very good reason. I leaned in more, so we were almost mouth to mouth. He tipped his head down to look at me.

We weren't going to kiss, but I think we were exchanging a promise. I was telling him to put his faith in me.

Also, Jerome was not an idiot.

“Jerome,” I said, “I'm really scared, and I almost died tonight. Please help us.”

That was true.

Jerome breathed in a few times, his nostrils actually flaring from the force of his breath. Then, in a sudden, decisive move, he walked over to Stephen. Stephen, I noticed, had been watching us closely and he turned away, focusing his attention on the stone and decidedly away from me. I followed, my stomach queasy, with strange prickling feelings in my palms. Stephen had seen it all and I could tell from his expression that something had just changed. There was something coming off of him that suggested I shouldn't get too close. I had no time to worry, no time to mourn. Emergencies bind as many wounds as they open.

Jerome picked the stone up by himself.

“Right,” Stephen said gruffly. “Good.”

“The entrance is down here,” the woman said. “At the foot of the steps.”

The staircase down to the park was as wide as the street itself and had solid stone walls, and there was a large column in the middle—some piece of statuary in a place that was built for statuary. Built into the wall on the left side was a doorway—a discreet one that I otherwise would have walked by.

“I can get through this and open it from the other side,” the woman said. “Though it may take a minute. From there, the paths are marked on the walls. There's an exit at the east end of the Serpentine. That is as far as this passage goes. You'll need to get to the river from there by separate access.”

With that, she turned to the door and forced herself through it. I'd seen this happen once before. Jo had done it to rescue me. It was like watching someone get hit by a car, taking the impact slowly, second by second. The woman let out a low groan that became more of a cry as she pushed through, her body sinking into the metal of the door, inch by inch.

“What are we waiting for?” Jerome said, shifting under the weight of the stone.

I watched her face vanish, her cries muffled—one leg, then another.

“I need your phone again,” Stephen said.

Jerome turned and indicated the right pocket of his jeans. I reached over and removed the phone sticking out of it. Stephen rattled off a number for me to dial.

“It's probably best if you speak,” he said. “They might not believe it's me. Tell them we have the stone and to meet us at the east end of the Serpentine.”

Someone had already answered. I could barely hear the person on the other end for all the yelling in the background, but I eventually made out that it was Boo.

“We're coming!” I said. “Meet us at? The east end? Of the Serpentine?”

I could just pick out from the jumble and the somewhat broken connection that they were there, in Hyde Park, but that Hyde Park and all the roads around were being closed off. I repeated this out loud so Stephen could hear. Then the call was cut off.

The woman had now vanished completely into the door. There was a long moment, then it opened. We were admitted to a concrete passageway, maybe six feet wide, lit along the top by a single, bright line of industrial bulbs. The woman was down on the ground, holding herself around the middle.

“Go,” she groaned. “Go quickly.”

Jerome stepped in, unaware of the suffering by his feet. I think he stepped on her.

“Which way?” he asked.

Stephen gave the woman a final look before nodding.

“We're going under the park toward the palace,” he said. “Toward Hyde Park.”

28

F
IRST
,
WE
HAD
TO
GO
DOWN
. T
HIS
WAS
A
THE
ME
IN
MY
LIFE
these days. There was a set of steps that took us down what felt like maybe two stories. Unlike the terrifying entrance to King William Street, this staircase was well maintained and lit. When we reached the bottom, the passageway turned almost at once, making a sharp right. From here, the tunnel stretched long and got wider, wide enough that a car could have easily driven along. It was pristine, the kind of smooth, unblemished concrete and empty space that made my inner ten-year-old miss my bike. There was very little to see along the path, except the occasional bright yellow box on the wall—some kind of fuse or something. A fire extinguisher here and there. Some blue lightbulbs, unilluminated, under black mesh cages.

Jerome was fine at first, but after ten or so minutes of walking, he struggled a bit under the weight of the stone. Stephen and I helped at points, but I knew it was taking all I had to keep going, and Stephen didn't look much better.

“So what is this tunnel?” Jerome said. “Must be important, considering where it is.”

“I expect it's a safe route for ministers,” Stephen said. “Possibly the royal family. We should be passing under the palace in a few minutes.”

Sure enough, as the corridor turned slightly and branched, there was a spray-painted sign on the wall and a door marked
PALA
CE
. Next to that door was an ominous-looking blue door with several safety signs and warnings on it.

“These were built during the war,” Stephen said.

“It looks new,” I said.

“This is the tunnel you use when things are very bad, not when the queen doesn't want to get wet. Things can stay in good shape for a long time without use, protected from the elements. They make sure everything is sound.”

“I need to stop for a minute,” Jerome said, setting the stone down.

“We can't,” Stephen said.

“I'm asthmatic. Give me a minute.”

Stephen let out an exasperated sigh, but nodded. “Of course,” he said. “I'm going to go ahead. Follow when you can.”

Jerome pulled the inhaler out again and took a hit, then leaned over with his hands on his thighs.

“How come I never knew about your asthma?” I said.

“It never came up. And it's only triggered by strong smoke, or stress, or a lot of exercise. Like everything that's happened.”

He shook his head, sending his curls flopping from side to side.

“Who the hell is he?” Jerome said. “Is he MI5?”

“Not exactly.”

“Well, he did the Knowledge, but I don't think he's a cabdriver.”

“I have no idea what that means,” I said.

“The Knowledge is what London cabdrivers have to do. They memorize the entire map of London—all the streets, all the hotels and main buildings and train stations, all the routes. It's famously hard, and it makes your brain get bigger, literally. Like, they scan people's heads after they do it.”

This sounded like something Stephen would spend his free time doing.

“But we have to keep going. If you can. Are you okay?”

“I should be,” he said.

“I'll help.”

“You look like you're going to pass out.”

“At least I can breathe, dumbass.”

It was just a little gesture, an attempt at normality, at the way we used to joke with each other—and it was maybe not quite the moment. That was from before, when Jerome and I were together, and not from whatever and wherever we were now. His lack of reply told me that. But he was moving again. I got on one side, and Jerome got on the other. Together we shuffled on down the corridor until we caught up with Stephen, who had stopped where the tunnel branched.

“This way,” Stephen said. “Are you all right to keep carrying?”

“I'll do it,” Jerome said, which wasn't exactly an answer.

Our footsteps got more lonely and developed more of an echo as we progressed. Aside from the occasional pause for breath, we continued on, following the signage on the wall. Finally we saw one that pointed toward a pump room. There was a muffled sound of water above us.

“This should be it,” Stephen said, looking up the dark stairwell. “I've been trying to gauge our distance. We should be into the park now.”

This set of steps was very narrow, barely wide enough for one person to walk at a time. The stone scraped along the concrete walls, so Jerome had to go sideways, with one of us in front of and one behind him to make sure he remained steady. We emerged in a very small, very dark building, just one room. It was almost entirely filled with pipes and one very loud machine in the middle of the room that was clearly designed to pump water. Jerome made it just to the top of the steps, where he edged the stone onto the floor and then sat. He pulled out his inhaler and gave it one violent shake, then took a hit.

“It's almost empty,” he said, shaking it again. There was a touch of fear in his voice.

“Then this is as far as you go,” Stephen said. “Rest here until you can breathe again and then go the way we came, back to Pall Mall. Take the car, drive it back to the house. Leave it on the street. Just stay here until you're stable. I wouldn't linger.”

Stephen stepped over the stone and went to open the door, carefully avoiding me and Jerome and anything that might pass between us.

“Are you all right?” I said, getting down to look Jerome in the face. He hung his head and took several long, slow breaths before replying.

“I will be. I just need to sit.”

Stephen pushed open the door. The outside air came in. There was a strange smell—not smoke, but some cousin of smoke. Something more watery. Something I'd never encountered before.

“We have to go,” I said. “But you're really okay, right?”

“There's nothing you can do anyway, unless you have an inhaler.”

Jerome's look said,
You're really going out there? This is happening?

“Be careful,” he said. “Or something. I don't even know what to say. I don't think you should go out there. But I have no idea what's going on.”

“I'm going out there. I have to. And you can't.”

“I know my limits,” he said. He gripped the handrail and lifted himself slowly. “You're sure?”

“Go,” I said. “I'll see you. I promise.”

I made sure he got down the stairs safely before turning to Stephen, who was still standing in the open doorway, his back to me.

“When I go out there,” he said, not turning around, “when they see me . . . I don't know how they'll react. For some reason, this part is hard.”

“It's going to be a surprise,” I said. “But a good one. They're going to be happy.”

“Will they?”

“Of course they will.”

He turned around. I couldn't see his face in the shadow.

“You said I died, Rory. I shouldn't be here. People don't come back.”

“We see people come back all the time,” I said.

“No. We see people who didn't leave. There's a big difference. But . . .”

He dismissed the conversation and stepped over to where I stood, next to the stone.

“We're both going to have to do this,” he said. “I can't manage on my own.”

We bent at the same moment, catching the stone from underneath. The closest we got was when the tops of our heads almost brushed together. Together, separated by the width of the stone, we stepped into the dark.

The Serpentine is a large lake in the middle of Hyde Park, and from what I knew, it was usually a very busy place. We'd come out at an area where the rental boats were tied together and stored. Aside from a few ducks bobbing in the water, we were alone. The one thing we could clearly make out, though, just ahead of us, was a pillar of white, about two stories high and maybe a block wide. The top wasn't flat, but seemed to reach for the sky with foggy fingers, as if pointing in accusation. Unlike fog, which you can usually see through to some extent, this looked solid and white and impenetrable and unmoving. It was a structure made of cloud, as solid in appearance as marble.

“What's it made of?” I said.

“The dead,” he said. “Merged energy. It looks like thousands.”

I thought of the thing I'd seen in Highgate Cemetery, the formless, monstrous mass. That had been maybe a few people. This was probably thousands—many thousands.

“Over there,” Stephen said, jerking his head in the direction of a few dark silhouettes a short distance off. I could just about make out the shapes of Boo, Callum, and Freddie. They saw us right away. I think it was good that there was some space between us for a minute as we made our way over. It gave them a few moments to process the sight. When we got there, we both set the stone gently on the ground. It was very cold. My breath was making huge plumes in front of me as we stood in our silent circle.

Of course, Freddie spoke first.

“You're Stephen,” she said.

“Yes,” Stephen replied.

Nothing from Boo and Callum. Boo put her hands over her mouth. Callum remained where he was, tense, unmoving, uncertain.

“It's me,” Stephen said.

“Is this a trick?” Callum said.

“No.”

“But we saw it happen,” Callum said.

“Oh, bollocks.” Boo ran for Stephen, grabbing him around the middle. It was part embrace, part examination. She clapped her hands on his back, then stepped back to run them down the outside of his arms. She reached up to the side of his neck, and it took me a moment to realize she was taking his pulse.

“It's true,” she said, turning to Callum. “Callum, it's true.”

She turned back to Stephen and regarded him with wonder.

“You're here,” she said. “It didn't happen. Somehow it didn't happen.”

There was a hush around that even the chaos couldn't penetrate. Freddie stepped forward and, taking a deep breath, extended her hand.

“Good to meet you at last,” she said.

Stephen extended his hand as well, looking as dazed as Callum and Boo.

“Yes,” he said. “Look, I know this is . . . I don't know what this is. I only know we have to take care of what's happening here first, and then we can talk about everything else. But I'm here. I'm not incredibly strong at the moment, and neither is Rory . . .”

Only then did anyone notice I was standing behind, with a large lump at my feet.

“Where's Thorpe?” Boo managed to ask.

“He'll be all right, but he's not coming. We need to move this—”

Freddie came over and pulled back the cloth to reveal the stone.

“The Oswulf Stone?” she asked.

“I take it you have a certain amount of information already,” Stephen said.

“I know what stone this is, and we know where it came from. We know it was removed from under the pub and that this happened.” She pointed to the great mass of white.

“There's a barrier all the way around,” Callum said. “We were able to get clearance to come this far, but no one without a protective suit is allowed near that barrier. They don't think it's breathable. Do you know what it is?”

“It's where the barrier between life and death is blurred,” Stephen said plainly. “It's something we haven't seen before. It's something we're not supposed to see. It's still something we need to deal with. We're the only ones who can. But I need to be honest with you—I don't know what happens to us if we get near it. I don't know how far away is safe. I don't know what happens inside. None of this is good. I only know we have a job to do, and it's up to you if you want to come along. I'm going. We'll have to go under. We need to get to the river. If you don't want to come, you should walk away now.”

A long moment passed.

“You think we're going now?” Boo said. “After you've just appeared? With that thing happening? You're daft.”

“Are you all in agreement?” Stephen asked.

I heard someone breathe in sharply. I think it was Freddie. Still, no one walked away. Callum laughed a little—a nervous, weird laugh.

“Good,” Stephen said. “The Westbourne used to run through here, but it was dammed at the upper end of the park, at what's now Lancaster Gate. It should run east from there, close to the point of the breach. The river is carried in the sewers, so that's what we'll be going into. I don't know how far we'll make it, but we have to try to get to the north of the park. I think that's our best hope.”

“The Ranelagh Sewer,” Freddie said.

Freddie and Stephen really did share the same weird interests. Even though this was useful, I didn't like the feeling that rose in me when she said it. She seemed to have more connections to him than I did.