She reached into her bag, found her own card and put it down on the table beside his. ‘It’s an invitation,’ she said, ‘to an auction, as you’ve realized. An auction, I think, of occult London objects.’

He smiled right across his face, as if appreciating her all over again. She’d revealed hidden depths. ‘Why haven’t you told the others?’

‘Why haven’t you?’

The smile continued. ‘Because I’d like to see if there’s anything on sale there that might help me avoid going to Hell.’

She took a deep breath and let her secret out. ‘And I’d like to see if there’s anything on sale there that would get my father out of Hell.’

‘Interesting.’ He wasn’t pretending at all now, just going through the motions, giving her credit as a fellow player while looking at her as if he wanted to eat her. ‘And do you think there will be an item on sale there that will allow either … or both … of us to achieve our respective goals?’

She paused for a moment, getting tiny satisfaction from keeping him in suspense. ‘I’ve been reading up on an object called the Bridge of Spikes. There was a document about it in the hoard we found in the Docklands ruins. Very hard to translate, but I managed it. It talked about a device that resurrects a person to full, breathing, unharmed life, wherever their body is, and simultaneously wipes clean what you might call their ethical record.’

‘A “Get out of Hell Free” card.’

‘Exactly.’

‘Is this a London thing?’

‘No. It was used once, in medieval times, somewhere in the Middle East. I think it can be used once per century. And, yes, that means that this occult shit can happen in other cities. I haven’t told the others that, either.’

He took a long drink of his wine, his eyes never leaving hers. ‘Once per century also means that only one of us could use it.’

Her lips were dry; Ross took a drink herself. Her heart was racing. An efficient solution to Costain’s problem now, she knew, would be for him to kill her and dispose of her card. She was pretty sure he wasn’t capable of that. Pretty sure. But now he had the prospect in front of him of having all his sins erased, would he decide it was worth it? She examined his face again. No. At least not before he was sure he had it in his sights, there at the auction on the night. She would have to play him along, right up to that moment, then find a way to get the object and run. ‘Right.’

‘I knew you were thinking that.’

‘I was.’

‘You’re also thinking I might bid against you. Try to nick it from you if you won. Worse.’

‘Yeah.’