then it drifted up to them, the sound of a baby crying. Jack’s expression softened and he smiled again.
“Don’t even think about that,” Tanith warned.
His smile turned to a grin then a leer.
“Race you,” he said.
Jack ran to the edge of the building and then there was nothing beneath his feet but air, and the next rooftop swooped to meet him. He landed and ran on without missing a step. He glanced over his shoulder, saw Tanith Low trying to keep up. She was good, that girl, but this was something Jack was made for. He was the prince of London City. It let him go where it let no one else. He knew it like he knew his own face.
The baby’s cry came again and he changed direction, heading away from the busier areas, tracking it over the streets and the alleyways. His powerful legs propelled him through the darkness and he spun and dug his feet into brick. He ran sideways, the length of the building. He saw Tanith moving on a parallel course, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, trying to intercept him before he reached his goal.
One last cry from the baby and Jack zeroed in on an open window, high above street level. He made a series of small jumps, building his momentum. He saw Tanith out of the corner of his eye, sprinting to catch up. Too slow, he thought to himself. He leaped from one side of the street to the other and dived straight in, clearing the window and going for the crib.
But the crib held only blankets, and the room was dark and unfurnished, not like a baby’s room at all, and why had the window been open? It wasn’t warm enough to have the window open—
The baby’s cry, much louder, was coming from a small device that sat near the window.
It was a trap. She had tricked him.
He moved to the window, but she had walked up the side of the building and was climbing through.
“Out there,” she said, “in the open air, I didn’t have a hope of catching you. But in here, in a confined space? You’re all mine, ugly.”
Jack panicked, went to the door, but it wouldn’t budge; there was a sheen to it he could see, even in the darkness, and he knew it would withstand whatever he had to throw at it. He whirled. The only way out was the window- the window that Tanith Low now guarded. She laid her sword on the ground, and took off her coat. Her tunic was sleeveless and her arms were strong. She rolled her neck, loosening up her shoulders, and nodded to him.
“Now,” she said, “finally. Come and have a go if you think you’re hard enough.”
Jack roared and went for her and she kicked him. He swiped and she ducked, and smacked him across the jaw. He tried to flip over her, but the ceiling was too low and he bellyflopped into it, felt his breath leave him and crashed to the floor. After that, all that registered was a whole lot of fists and elbows and knees, and a wall that kept running into his face.
Jack collapsed. He breathed hard and groaned in pain. He stared up at the ceiling. He could see the cracks, even in the dark. Tanith stepped into view, looking down at him.
“You ready for your nice warm cell now?”
Jack whimpered.
And then that voice, drifting up the stairs like the whine of a dentist’s drill, and the pebble fell back into her hand. Muttering to herself, Valkyrie stood up and walked into the bathroom, her practice done for the day. She took a shower then pulled on her school uniform before heading down to the kitchen.
Her mother was there, and sitting beside her was Valkyrie’s shrill, sharp-featured aunt, Beryl.
“Morning,” Valkyrie said as she passed them, going straight for the cupboard.
“Hi, love,” her mother said.
“Good morning, Stephanie,” Beryl said primly.
“Beryl,” Valkyrie said in greeting.
“How is school going for you?”
Valkyrie poured some cereal into her bowl and added milk. She didn’t bother sitting. “It’s OK.”
“Are you studying hard? My girls are always studying. They get it from my side of the family, I have to say. It’s a valuable work ethic I’ve instilled in them.”
Valkyrie murmured and scooped a spoonful of cereal into her mouth, doubting the validity of just about everything Beryl had just said. Her aunt didn’t like her and Valkyrie didn’t like her aunt. Her aunt didn’t like her because Valkyrie had inherited her late uncle’s estate, and Valkyrie didn’t like her aunt, or her aunt’s husband Fergus, because they were dislikeable people.
Her father came in, dressed in smart trousers, vest and a tie around his bare neck. He winked at Valkyrie then noticed his sister-in-law.
“Beryl,” he said, utterly failing to hide his dismay.
“Desmond, good morning.”
“Beryl, what are you doing here? It’s not even 8 o’clock. You know I don’t like seeing you before I’ve had my first cup of coffee.”
Beryl laughed that hideous fake laugh of hers. “Oh Desmond, you’re such a messer! I’m just here to talk to Melissa, that’s all. We’ve got a lot to organise for tomorrow night.”
“Oh, dear God, the family reunion thing.”
“It’ll be wonderful!”
“But you’ll be there,” her dad said, puzzled, and Valkyrie nearly choked on her cereal.
Her mum looked up at him. “You forgot your shirt.”
“Oh, yes, the reason I’m here. I don’t have a clean one.”
“Behind the door.”
He turned, saw the crisp white shirt hanging on the coat hook and rubbed his hands together. He took it off the hook and put it on, sliding the collar up beneath the tie as he buttoned it. He didn’t like wearing ties – he owned a construction company so he’d always thought he’d be in work-boots and jeans. But every now and then he had to dress up and pretend – as he put it – to be civilised.
“So Steph,” he said, “looking forward to a great day in school?”
“Oh
