DonвЂ™t even think about going back to the college tonight.вЂќ He kissed the top of her head. вЂњCheers, then.вЂќ He stood and gestured to Sabrina. Sully feigned a smile, wiping cold perspiration from his face. вЂњEven a deaf man can hear the agitation in your voice. вЂњIn the meanwhile IвЂ™ve got meditations to offer and defense hermetics to calculate.вЂќ He knelt and put a hand on SullyвЂ™s shoulder, gaslight glinting off the ancient metal bands that adorned his fingers and wrists. WeвЂ™ll stem the biological tide in the morning, Gods help us,вЂќ he said. His trappings were rugged if otherwise nondescript, but instead of trousers he wore a skirt of densely-scaled mesh, the native equivalent of chain mail, belted in gruhlish fashion but cut to human proportions. He hopped off the ladder with a metallic rustle. He committed the equation heвЂ™d been studying to memory, then folded his spectacles and placed the text back into its niche. Too many years spent in the company of militant academicians. вЂњTry not to be so serious for once in your life.вЂќ вЂњGodвЂ™s wounds, Rowan, donвЂ™t be such a prig,вЂќ Sabrina said. вЂњThat makes all the difference then.вЂќ He offered one of his enigmatic half-smiles as he turned a page in the faded manuscript, its charactersinscribed in blood by the long-dead Shadowmancers of the Invisible Reach. вЂњThree-quarters?вЂќ Doctor MalloryвЂ™s subdued baritone drifted down from above. вЂњFourteen and three-quarters, as the months were measured on Great Albion.вЂќ вЂњFourteen?вЂќ The edge to his voice could split industrial diamonds. Safe in the bedchambers upstairs were a dozen young refugees from MyrddinвЂ™s End, runaways liberated from stimulant laboratories and families whoвЂ™d already been lost to the shadows. Trevor and Henry have announced theyвЂ™re ready to begin their conquests of the fairer sex.вЂќ вЂњActually she wanted to know if sheвЂ™s of an age to start having it off with boys. вЂњNightmares or a sudden fear of barrow ghouls?вЂќ SheвЂ™s fine.вЂќ Sabrina gathered her long skirts beneath her and sat opposite him before the fireplace.

вЂњAnd what pray tell is troubling the beasties now?вЂќ Sully asked, careful not to look at her too closely. SabrinaвЂ™s line-brother, the вЂњDark ApostleвЂќ as he was known in the Shadowlands-those hidden reaches upon Morgana where night lingered a bit too long. Amber gaslight reflected off the frames of his brass variable-loupe spectacles. He smiled a quick hello as Sabrina set her mug to cool alongside a collection of manxome claws sheathed in time-blackened steel.Дoctor Rowan Mallory perched atop a ladder in the corner between two of the roomвЂ™s volume-laden walls, lost in the pages of centuries-old metaphysics. He was a solitary man by necessity if not by choice, slender and pale, scarcely older than twenty-two. The orb had many names, human and not, but to the Men who believed they could tame this wild place it was simply Morgana, the Phantom Queen, a realm of dark seas and storm-burnished skies. In truth Sully was the intruder here, as was Sabrina, as were all whoвЂ™d come to this Aspect poised at the very edge of the Aetherial Deep. The words dripped inside SullyвЂ™s skull like rancid honey, thick and carnal. Sully felt it move, a cold liquid flutter deep in his gut, a tingling in his veins. Sabrina Cheng-Mallory, her every movement provocative in ways he dared not begin to describe. Sabrina sauntered into the library, a steaming cup of mulled ghillie wine in her hands. He listened to everything but the demon inside his head. Relived the cries of the lost souls he himself had destroyed. Sully listened with a young manвЂ™s intensity as the rain slammed into the mountains rising high above the City, heard the phantom warriors bellow and wail in the blast of the wind. It was a dark room despite the firelight, heavy with wood-smoke and the lingering smells of roasted rath and toves from BroonвЂ™s cookhouse above the larder. He stretched out on the library floor, fingers interlaced, eyes shut, his feet propped upon the warm hearthstones of a cavernous old fireplace.

Sully Finn was living proof of that, if living was what you called it. Such things happened in the City of Shadows. The storms never arrived before nightfall, never lingered after dawn. Ghosts and the midnight gales howled through MalagantвЂ™s steep cobblestoned alleys like banshees jacked on dreamseed and stim.

Morgana crack open a cold one