He motioned with his hand. A nearby ghost wheeled toward him and raced down the passage, extinguishing the torches. As the darkness closed in, he took my hand. I had to half-run to keep up with his strides. He led me through an archway and out onto a gravel path.

The disused building was as daunting as the others. By the dim flush of dawn I could see a series of arches, rectangular barred windows, and a tympanum with a ring carved into it. Warden led me through the arches, took a key from his sleeve, and opened a rotten door. “What is this place?” I said.

“A safe house.”

He went inside. I followed, pulling the door closed behind me. Warden bolted it.

It was pitch-black in the safe house. His eyes cast a soft light over the walls. “These were wine cellars once,” he said as we walked. “I spent years clearing them. As the highest-ranking Rephaite at this residence, I was able to forbid entry to whichever buildings I chose. This safe house is accessible by only a small group of individuals. Michael included.”

“Who else?”

“You know who else.”

The scarred ones. I shivered. This was their safe house, their meeting place. He opened a gate in the wall. Beyond it was an opening, not much more than a crawl space. “Go through.”

“What’s in there?”

“Someone who can help you.”

“I thought you were going to help me.”

“The humans in this city would never trust a Rephaite to organize them. They would think it was a trick, as you have always believed. It must be you.”

“You led us before.”

Warden looked away.

“Go,” he said. “Michael is waiting.”

His brow was dark. I wondered how many years of work had come crashing down around him.

“It can be different this time,” I said.

He didn’t reply. His eyes were dim, and his skin had a soft sheen. The lack of amaranth was already taking its toll.

Not having much of a choice, I crawled into a cool, dark tunnel. Warden closed the gate behind us. “Keep going.”

I did. When I reached the end, a slim hand grasped mine. I looked up to see Michael, his face lit by a candle. Warden emerged from the tunnel.

“Show her, Michael. It is your work.”

Michael nodded again, beckoning me. I followed him into the darkness. He flicked a switch, and a light came on, revealing a large underground room. I looked at the light for a moment, trying to work out why it seemed so strange. Then it hit me.

“Electricity.” I couldn’t take my eyes off it. “There’s no power here. How did you—?” Michael was smiling.

“Officially, the power can be restored in only one of the residences: Balliol. That is where the red-jackets coordinate with the Westminster Archon during the Bone Seasons,” Warden said. “That building has modern electrical wiring. Fortunately, so has Magdalen.”