Wraith(4)

Tonight I had no agenda and no specific destination in mind; I was simply on the prowl to see what I could unearth. There was always something and even the smallest scraps of information had potential. Everyone possessed secrets, deep dark whispers that dwelled in their own shadows and clung to their souls. Very few people had the skill to root them out; in that regard, I was very, very special.

Flitting out through the open window of my fifth-floor flat, my shadow mingled with the other less sentient shapes thrown by the overflowing rubbish bins and towering structures of unwanted furniture. Garbage was supposed to be collected every month but that rarely happened. I’d been told that you could go to the castle to complain. Sometimes the whispers that complaints and pleas were being taken seriously would surge forth like a tidal wave, before ebbing back in their usual disappointing manner.

Just last week, Mrs McTavish, the old widow who lived on the ground floor and pretended to be a cantankerous witch when she was really quite the opposite, told me she’d waited in line for over five hours to put forward her case. Actually, it was our case. She’d been given a number and told to return the following day when someone would definitely speak to her. They’d provide answers. They’d help her out – or so they promised. Except if Mrs McTavish appeared at the castle on a Tuesday, she would miss her slot at the Cowane Street food bank. Given the choice between talking to a proverbial brick wall about the growing rat problem and increasing stench from the uncollected rubbish and having enough food to stay alive, she’d abandoned her campaign before it had begun. After all, it wasn’t as if you could nominate someone else to take your place at Cowane; they were scrupulously strict about IDs. In theory this was good because no one could steal your rations but in practice it meant that if you were ill or infirm you went hungry. And goodness knows, there was enough hunger already.

I’d picked my own neighbourhood clean of its secrets long ago. In truth, burrowing away at people I smiled at during daylight hours was not something I enjoyed. The pathetic titbits I gleaned were never very valuable either. To have a truly successful night, I had two choices – they were very different in style but very similar in foulness. But I did what I had to in order to survive.

Pausing at Mercat Cross, I tried to decide. Turning left would take me towards the dank chasm of organised crime. There was a feud currently erupting between the Badgemen and the Understreets, which I could certainly make use of. The trouble was that feuds of that nature often fizzled out before they really got started; if I filched information from one side to sell to the other, I could make more enemies than I needed. I liked my head where it was, thank you very much.

Heading right would take me to party land. This being a Saturday night, there would be plenty of our supposed lords and masters out on the lash and ripe for my picking. The wealthy humans in Stirling enjoyed considerably greater privileges and freedom than the rest of us because the Filits were always prepared to grant them concessions to keep them on side. The trouble was that sifting through the murky silt of their lives to obtain something I could sell on was harder than you might think – and there was the chance that I’d come away with little of value. On measure, however, it seemed a better bet. I was certainly better at nit-picking than I used to be; in this line of work, experience counted for a great deal.

I shrugged and my shadow rippled against the lit torches surrounding the semi-circle of hanging nooses, all the more sinister for lying empty as if in wait. I turned right, allowing my dark form to mingle and disappear against the darkness of the stone wall. The fake smiles of the semi-bourgeoisie it would be. I decided that an unplanned pregnancy or some new, spiked designer drugs would go down well. It was time to begin prowling in earnest.

The nearest club was wealthy enough to afford its own generator, although the light outside the door was not exactly bright. Still, it marked the place as glitzy and helped to illuminate the long, snaking line outside. I cast an experienced eye along the queue. There were a few faces I recognised, but those stars had already fallen. If I could discover someone who’d not yet begun their descent, I might be in with the chance of making some real money. And real money meant real food. The prospect of buying bread that hadn’t been bulked out with sawdust made my mouth water.

As it was early, I decided to look for a less busy but more up-and-coming venue, the sort of place that was too trendy for its own good and still had strict guest lists. The more exclusive the clientele, the greater potential there was for valuable secrets and high gains. I’d give myself an hour, ninety minutes tops, then I’d wheel back here and aim at some lower targets. The nights were short at this time of year and I had to get home before dawn. I couldn’t risk my shadow being spotted – and that was very possible in the full light of day. The reason I was still alive and free was because I was both cautious and careful.

I pitter-pattered down the street, veering round a gaggle of girls who’d stopped briefly to re-do their make-up. I kept one ear cocked for any interesting scraps of conversation but their focus was on Elizabeth Arden, Bobbi Brown and Coco Chanel, none of whom aided my cause. A rickety bicycle with a small lamp trundled by, throwing enough light to make one of the women blink as my shadow brushed against her bare skin. It wasn’t a problem; the contact was too brief and I was gone too quickly for her to realise what she’d seen and felt. All the same, I picked up the pace. Time was ticking on.

I danced past the Wonky Wallace and slid away from Sparkle. I’d gleaned enough on recent outings to know that Kanji had finally opened, offering a supposedly Zen-like escape from the pain of living in a besieged city. If a Japanese nightclub was an odd thing to find in a small Scottish city under both goblin siege and goblin rule, no one commented on it.