“Anne,” I said. “She says they’ve finished, but she’s not going to be back until late.” I frowned. Something about the message had sounded a little off. I glanced through the futures in which I called Anne and Variam, just to make sure they were all right. Well, they were answering their phones . . .

I snapped back to the present to realise Luna had asked me something about Caldera. “Not sure,” I said. “Listen, I think I’m going to go pay a visit to our mind mage consultant. You go back to the shop and meet up with Vari.”

“Can’t I come?”

“Next time. Anyway, I’m taking you out tonight, remember? Go get ready.”

Luna had been about to keep on pushing, but that diverted her. “Where are we going?”

“It’s a surprise.”

“What kind of surprise?”

“An educational surprise.”

Luna gave me a suspicious look. “It’ll be fun,” I said. “Wear something nice.”

“Like what, battle armour?”

“I’ll leave that up to your judgement. Remember, seven o’clock. Don’t be late.”

* * *

The quickest route from Camden to Brondesbury is the overground line, which was once called the Silverlink Metro but now goes by the unimaginative name of the London Overground. I watched the rooftops and gardens of north-central London go by, then got off and walked to where Anne and Variam had met Dr. Ruth Shirland.

Dr. Shirland lived in a terraced house in a small closed-in street. It was a residential area and solidly middle class, the kind of place where you’re paying a lot more for the location than for the building. It’s not the kind of place you’d expect a mage to live, but I’ve seen stranger choices. I rang the bell and waited.

Dr. Shirland opened the door. She was about sixty years old, short and delicate looking, with grey curly hair, small round glasses, and the kind of wrinkles you get from smiling a lot. “Oh, hello,” she said. “Alex Verus, isn’t it? Come right in.”

“Thanks.”

I was escorted into a small and cosy sitting room with a modest number of chairs and a lot of bookshelves. I accepted tea, refused biscuits, and was inspected by a fat black-and-white tomcat who sniffed my hand, permitted himself to be stroked, then curled up on an armchair clearly reserved for his exclusive use. “Thanks for seeing me,” I said.

“It’s no trouble,” Dr. Shirland said. “Though I do have a patient in an hour.”

“A patient?”

“I’m a consulting psychologist,” Dr. Shirland said. “I see mages, but I have a regular practice as well.”

“Yeah, I imagine being able to read thoughts would make psychology easier. Are you reading mine now?”

Dr. Shirland raised an eyebrow. “Would you believe me if I told you I wasn’t?”

“Probably not.”

“Why not?”

“Call it a precaution,” I said. “Besides, in my experience most mages can never resist using their powers.”