I tapped my pen against the ledger. Jaxon had asked me to find out who in the district hadn’t paid their rent, and how much they owed. Mind-numbing work. Not like what Eliza and Nick got to do. Those two were always out hunting spirits or confronting rival clairvoyant gangs – the sort of thing I had envisioned doing when Jaxon had first invited me to join his gang, the Seven Seals. They had worked for him longer than I had, but I still felt impatient – mostly with myself. I longed for an assignment of consequence; something that would really test me.

Not that I would ever ask for it outright. Jaxon Hall could be courteous, even charming, but he was mercurial. Pressing him at the wrong moment could make me look ungrateful for the work, and I couldn’t lose this job. I got the feeling that if you were exiled from the voyant underworld, you wouldn’t come back.

I couldn’t take that gamble. Now I knew this world existed, I would not risk being banished.

My eyelids were heavy. I glanced up from the figures, massaging the sore base of my neck.

The sun was low and copper-gold. Ensconced in here, it was easy to forget that our beloved government could have me hanged if they ever learned what I was – an unnatural. That was what they called clairvoyants.

I sat up straighter and adjusted my jersey when I saw Eliza through the window. She was flushed and bright-eyed, her hair unsettled by the wind.

Eliza Renton was twenty years old and had worked for Jaxon for over a year. From what I had observed about her – I did a lot of observation in between rounds of paperwork – she was both street-smart and absent-minded; a dressmaker, an artist, a voyant. Today she wore a silk dress, the same light green as her eyes, covered by a velvet coat. She had braved the cold to get us lunch, saying she had an errand anyway and I deserved a break from the endless food-and-coffee runs – but her hands were empty.

‘No caffeine?’ I said as she came up the stairs. But she was already gone, her face set. ‘Eliza?’

‘Jaxon!’

Her boots clicked on the stairs at speed. I deserted my post and followed her. Any excuse. By the time I reached the second-floor landing, she was knocking on the door to Jaxon’s study. She was all nervous energy, tilting her weight from one foot to the other.

The door creaked open. Jaxon Hall stood in his lounging robe, his black hair free of the oil he often used to smooth it back.

‘Did you bring that coffee, darling?’ he asked. There were greyish circles under his eyes.

‘I hate myself for saying this,’ Eliza said, ‘but we don’t have time for coffee.’

She slipped past him. I entered next, giving him a ‘no idea’ look. He twirled a burning cigarillo between his fingers.