‘I will,’ I said, feeling as if I was taking an oath.

‘Jaxon, this is Paige’s first time on syndicate business,’ Nick said. ‘What name should she use?’

My palms were clammy.

All of them had aliases. Jaxon was the White Binder, Nick was the Red Vision, and Eliza was the Martyred Muse. I wasn’t sure where Jaxon mined the names from; only that I wanted one more than anything. To be a real part of the gang.

Finally, Jaxon spoke. ‘Keep out of sight of cameras. You wouldn’t want Scion to spy you, darling.’

‘Surely all they’d see is me spending time with Nick,’ I said. ‘My father knows him.’

My voice quaked a little, betraying my disappointment. He hadn’t given me a name.

‘I shouldn’t worry about them seeing that. I would, however, prefer them not to catch sight of you on a surveillance camera if you have to do battle with the poltergeist,’ Jaxon said. ‘That would raise a few eyebrows in Westminster. And lead to you being wanted for immediate questioning, no doubt.’

Good point. The security cameras wouldn’t see us using our clairvoyance – they were blind to spiritual activity of any kind, for now – but they would note any suspicious behaviour, and that alone could be enough to condemn us.

‘And . . . her name?’ Nick prompted softly.

Jaxon considered me. I waited, turning cold under his scrutiny.

‘The Pale Dreamer,’ he said, with the lingering relish of a man who was tasting a fine wine. ‘Yes . . . the Pale Dreamer. A name for all of London to remember.’

Chapter 2 Follow the Money

Follow the Money

I couldn’t stop smiling as we left the den. It was perishing outside, but receiving my alias had sparked a fire inside me.

Jaxon Hall had bestowed his approval of me as his representative. My lips kept forming the words, testing their shape. The Pale Dreamer. It sounded dangerous and graceful, like a vengeful spirit. The Pale Dreamer. Yes, I could get used to that name. If I meant to keep it, though, I would have to prove myself worthy – and if I meant to prove myself worthy, we had to snare Sarah Metyard.

Over the years, I’ve classified seven orders of clairvoyance, Jaxon had told me on the day Nick introduced us. I believe you, my dear girl, are of the very highest order, making you one of the rarest clairvoyants in the modern world.

It all sounded very impressive. But what if I wasn’t?

What if he had been wrong about me?