“Mark Daubery,” snapped Walden. It was only when he roared with laughter that she realised she’d used her teacher voice. Mark was not one of those convenient people still haunted by the memories of schoolday scoldings in his forties, so it hadn’t worked even slightly. His eyes were crinkled with real amusement. Laura glanced over at them. Why was this so awkward? Walden would have given a lot, just then, for the armour of a sensible blazer and an old-fashioned brooch. Eighteen-year-old Saffy’s arrogant, brittle, faux-punk, and intensely sexually frustrated ghost could go jump in a lake.

chapter twenty-one IMPULSE

The conversation in the pub moved on. No one, at least, was looking at the Phoenix anymore.

“You look like you could use some air,” said Mark. “Come on.”

December nights in Central London: freezing cold, full of movement, full of light. The Tube sign above Covent Garden station gleamed. There were elaborate Christmas displays in the windows of all the shops across the street. Black taxis and scarlet buses wove among the crowds of pedestrians all taking their lives in their own hands every time they crossed the road. Walden turned her face up when she felt something light and cold kiss her skin.

“How about that,” she said. “Snow.”

“It won’t settle,” said Mark.

They watched the snowflakes drift through the pools of red and gold and green from the Christmas displays. The yellow bulb of the nearest lamppost was flickering. Walden realised she’d left her jacket over the back of the booth, and in the same moment Mark took his wool coat off and swung it over her shoulders. The motion mysteriously ended with Mark’s fingers resting on Walden’s upper arm. The Phoenix’s sharp talons curled around the spot. Walden imagined she could feel it move, though she never had before—that it was magic, power, and threat that made her skin tingle just then. She looked up at him.

“How much harder do I have to work, Sapphire?” Mark said.

The plaintive tone didn’t ring true at all. Walden snorted. “Oh, please. I’m sure you’re really suffering.”

He grinned: Fair play to you, can’t blame me for trying. He gave her arm a firm squeeze and let go. “I’m wasting away. Look at me.”

“You seem fairly all there to me.”

“You know, if you just tell me you’re not interested, I’ll back off. I’m a bastard, I admit it freely, but I’m not a complete twat.”

Walden said nothing.

The grin widened. “Thought so.”

“That is not attractive.”

“Confidence works for most people.”