The Arcane Houses of London: Shadow Kingdom, #0

1

The heavy wooden door loomed over David, dark and forbidding. Behind him, the night wind whistled through leafless trees. He grasped the cold brass knocker, hesitated, and then struck it against the door.

The rap of metal on wood sounded too loud in the dark, straining his already frayed nerves. David decided to knock just once more. If nobody answered, he could always hide on the estate grounds until morning.

One more rap and the door simply opened, swinging inwards in perfect silence.

Moonlight streamed into the entry foyer. It didn’t illuminate so much as shape the darkness inside. David swallowed.

Hello? He took one step forward, then another, and then two more. His hair ruffled as the door closed behind him, and he fought the urge to spin and pull it open again.

He took a deep breath to calm himself. His father had said this mansion, set in the heart of London, was a strange place. But he’d also said the house inhabitants would give him sanctuary if he ever got this far. His father’s words seemed a world away now, and David had come further than he’d ever believed possible.

Above him, a golden glow blossomed, illuminating a grand curving staircase. The glow came closer, the lights brightening and then dimming to follow a figure descending the stairs.

As the person approached, David saw it was a girl of similar age to him, maybe fourteen or fifteen.

She reached the bottom of the stairs and the ornate fixtures in the wall sconces lit her path as she glided down the corridor towards him. Hurriedly, David dug a scrap of paper out of his pocket, the writing smudged by the journey and the many times he’d read it.

He held it up like a talisman as the girl stopped three paces from him. Her pale, heart-shaped face ended in a pointed chin, and her green eyes were ever so slightly slanted, giving the impression she was just about to smile. Her dark brown hair was pulled up in an untidy bun, and strands escaped to fall to the collar of her black dress. She looked David up and down.

Well? she said.

Wordlessly, David thrust the paper forward.

She took it, her eyebrows lifting then lowering as she studied it. She handed it back.

This is some foreign language. I don’t know what it says.

Oh. David blushed, feeling like a fool. He knew his thick accent would give him away as it had at so many points during the journey. It says I’m a cousin. David di Luca. From Italy. Cousin Marcie will vouch for me.

Oh. Italy! You must have come through liberated France. Were you there for the VE Day celebrations? The girl’s face brightened with curiosity, and then her eyes sharpened. What are you doing here?

Is Cousin Marcie here?

No, said the girl, She won’t be back for a day or two.

David’s heart fell. He’d been holding things together for so long. Having relaxed for a moment, he found that he was dangerously close to falling apart.

I’ll… Can you… Can I stay here till she comes back? Tiredness seeped from his bones, threatening to pull him under.

What? the girl looked surprised. Do you not have somewhere else to stay?

No. It was a simple question, but shame coloured David’s cheeks. He’d always had somewhere, before.

She frowned, considering. Let me see that paper again.

David handed it over without much hope. He knew what the girl saw when she looked at him: a skinny teenager with a chipped front tooth, dark, unkempt curls that didn’t hide the gauntness of his face and olive skin that still revealed the exhausted shadows under his eyes. It was not a face to inspire hospitality.

What does it say?

Jacob di Luca sends his regards to Cousin Marcie Romano. He hopes you will give his son David sanctuary.

Hmmmm. The girl studied the faded scrap of paper, and the lights brightened as she held it up. She would at least be able to pick out Marcie’s name, written in his father’s hasty scrawl. She eyed David over the top of the paper. How do I know you’re who you say you are?

I don’t have any papers.

Then how did you get into England?

David drew himself up, summoning bravura from god knows where. Di Luca’s can get in anywhere they want to.

The girl’s mouth quirked up in a smile. If you say so. Then what brings you here?

Sanctuary.

Yes, but why come all this way? Why not stay with your family in Italy?

The war… has not been good to my family. David kept his voice steady. They thought I would be better off here.

Even though the war’s over?

Even so.

The girl looked David up and down again, taking in his ragged clothes and grimy shoes. She shifted from foot to foot, considering. The lights, which had diminished to a dull glow, brightened, casting a golden luminance over both of them.

Oh. The girl’s mouth turned up at the corners, a delighted grin that made David want to smile as well. The house likes you.

What?

The house, she said, as if this explained everything. Home to the finest thieves and knaves of London. It likes you. Well? Come on in.

The girl’s feet made no sound as she retreated up the hallway, the island of light moving with her. David stared after her for a moment, then hurried to follow.

He fell into step beside her as they climbed the staircase.

Where are we going?

I don’t know, she said. The house will decide where to put you. She stifled a sudden giggle. There was this visitor from Austria it wanted to put in the coal cellar. He didn’t stay.

This made no sense to David, but he was too tired to care. He was inside, not out in the cold, and talking to someone his age who probably didn’t want to rob or take advantage of him in some other way. He was almost certain of this.

They climbed another staircase, and then another. The girl whistled. Maybe we’re going right up to the attic. That’s the best place.

The stairway turned from a grand promenade to a narrow winding spiral. The fifth floor staircase was almost a ladder. They climbed it, the girl first, David following.

The hallway here was narrow, lit by both the glow of electric lights and silver moonlight streaming through the roof windows. The pool of light that had taken them all this way stopped at the far end of the corridor.

The girl favoured David with a moonlit smile. It’s given you the crow’s nest! That’s my favourite room in the house.

She padded over to open the door. David peered inside over her shoulder, wondering how a room could be like the nest of a crow.

The room was small and round, with windows facing out in all directions. A ladder went up to a half loft, where, wonder of wonders, a single bed lay piled with duvets and blankets.

The girl stuck out her hand. I’m Betty Thorne, she said formally, though mischief still sparked in her eyes. David Di Luca, welcome to Thorne House.

2

The next morning, David found his way down to the kitchen, a crowded room on the lowest level of the house filled with the smells of cooking.

There was a generous open fireplace with an even bigger chimney set into one wall. On the other wall, a large man with fierce black eyebrows and a bar fighter’s shoulders tended to a modern coal-fired stove.

I’m Alfred, said the man. Here. He thrust a steaming mug at David and waved him over to the fire alcove. Breakfast is soon.

The blaze warmed David as he sat on a bench and cautiously sipped from the thick ceramic mug. The drink turned out to be hot chocolate, creamy and delicious.

David closed his eyes, letting last night’s troubled dreams fade away. As always, his right hand slipped into his pocket to wrap around the hilt of the knife his father had given him before he’d left. He clutched it tight, his thumb running over the ridged ivory handle.

The kitchen door burst open and David jumped, almost spilling his hot chocolate. Betty blew in, spinning in a circle and giving Alfred a quick hug before flinging herself down on the bench opposite David.

Morning Cousin David, she said. You found your way here early.

Leave the boy alone, grumbled Alfred. He’s still waking up. Me too.

Betty tossed her head, mock-scowling. Alfred’s always grumpy in the mornings. He needs three cups of coffee and four cups of tea before he’s even half civil.

Alfred grunted and went back to stirring a large pot on the stove. It smelled delicious, a combination of spices and honey.

I can see I’m going to have to carry both sides of the conversation this morning, said Betty. What’s in the pot?

Porridge, said Alfred.

Betty smiled reassuringly at David. Don’t worry. Like everything else he creates in this hallowed hall, Alfred’s porridge is a work of art. Here, we dine like queens and drink like duchesses.

Alfred gave another grunt, but David saw his mouth twitch in a tiny smile.

So, David. I’ve appointed myself your guide and host, said Betty.

Lucky you, muttered Alfred.

Tell me, said Betty, ignoring him, what would you like to know? I am at your service.

David blinked at her, gathering his thoughts. Ah, how many people…

How many people are here? And where are they? Betty seemed quite happy to finish his sentences for him. David could see she’d decided it would save time. There’s quite a few! Most of us are Thornes, but there are some cousins staying, and assorted others. We always have room.

I see. That hadn’t answered his question even slightly, but David knew not to press for information that wasn’t offered.

And where is everybody? They’ll be around. As soon as we bring food up to the dining room, they’ll appear. Some of them are still out, and others, well…maybe they’ve already eaten and gone to bed.

David nodded. It wasn’t too different from how his family had operated. He glanced up. Betty watched him expectantly, one foot jigging in place as she waited. He frowned, wondering what she wanted.

What was it like? Your journey here? She burst out. You would have seen loads of German soldiers. Did you have to go through occupied territories? How did you get past checkpoints?

Ah… it was… cold, said David finally. His mind ran through scenes of frozen fields, starving men, women and children, rides hitched on cargo trains, and long treks to bypass bombed-out bridges and military checkpoints. That is, it got cold in the winter. Spring wasn’t so bad.

Betty sighed in frustration. But how long did the journey take? Were there any dicey bits? Did you have to go through warzones?

Let the lad drink in peace, Alfred growled. He’s worn out.

Fine. Betty kicked her heels back and sighed dramatically. I was too young to join Queen Alex's - that’s frontline nurses - but I reckon I would have made an even better spy. That’s what Thornes are good at. Like di Luca’s, she said with an encouraging smile. We can get in anywhere we want to.

She lapsed into silence for a few moments, and David sipped his cocoa, grateful for the pause in conversation. But it didn’t last long.

After breakfast, is there anything you want to do? said Betty. If you’ve just arrived in London, I can show you around. Maybe you want to post a letter to let your people know you’ve arrived.

Ah… David swallowed. It was still there, no matter how tight he kept his guard up. A huge chasm that opened at unexpected times and threatened to suck him down into it.

A metallic clink came from the stove as Alfred put the lid back on a pot. Betty… he said, his voice low and warning.

Betty looked at him, then at David. Her face coloured, mouth drawing down in dismay. Then she rallied.

I’ll show you London, she said. You have a couple of days till Marcie gets back. And she might… She seemed to think better of what she’d been about to say. There are loads of places where you can’t even tell we had the Blitz. I’ll take you there. And my friend Bryn is on a narrowboat. We can go for a ride down Grand Union Canal.

She stared defiantly across at Alfred, who shrugged and turned back to his stove.

Thank you, said David. I would like that very much. It seemed the only thing he could say. Already, he was tuning his ear, listening to the cadence of how she shaped her vowels and consonants. ‘Be the bird that looks like the tree it’s in,’ his father used to tell him. ‘Then the hunter will never see you.’

There were also words he didn’t know. ‘Narrowboat’ was one. And ‘canal.’ But he was sure Betty would be happy to tell him what they meant.

He looked up to find Betty studying him intently. When was the last time you cut your hair?

David’s hand flew up to his head. His hair had grown in the last few months, and was something he’d wanted to fix but hadn’t been able to yet. It always paid to look respectable, like you had a home to go to, just around the corner. Then no one would bother you.

It’s been a while, he admitted.

I’ll do it, said Betty. Before our grand tour. Because, she grinned and waggled her eyebrows, something David had never seen anyone do before, there are some swanky places I want to take you.

Don’t get the boy into trouble on his first day, said Alfred.

Of course not, said Betty, all wide-eyed innocence. Would I do that?

You were born for it, said Alfred.

Betty dismissed this with an airy wave of her hand. First breakfast, then a haircut and some ritzier clothes. And then you and I are going to do London.

Despite himself, David felt the corners of his mouth turn upwards. That sounds good.

Betty’s face lit up like his smile was the best thing she’d seen all year. David felt a warmth grow in his face, and to his dismay, he realised he was blushing.

3

After breakfast, David followed Betty through a side door that opened on garden steps bathed in early morning sun. A lady in her late twenties reclined on the top step, the sun turning her shock of curly blonde hair gold. Her eyes were closed as she sucked in smoke from a fag in a long cigarette holder.

The lady acknowledged them with a lazy wave of her cigarette but seemed unwilling to open her eyes beyond the merest slits.

That’s Lizzie, whispered Betty as she seated David on the middle step. She’s one of Thorne House’s top technicians.

I’m an artist, said Lizzie. Technique should only be applied in support of art.

Betty snorted faintly and pulled a pair of scissors out of her dress pocket. For the next half hour, she snipped David’s hair short and neat. The whole time she did this, Betty waged an argument with Lizzie about the latest fashions in men’s hairstyles. Neither of them seemed to think David should have