Read (A Charm of Magpies 1)The Magpie Lord for Free Online Page B

poor. Twenty guineas for a night’s work, and another thirty for this excursion. But that suit’s threadbare.”
    “Blood under his nails, as well, right in. Wasn’t just leaning on it.”
    “Yes, I noticed that. What do you think?”
    “Same as you, I reckon.”
    “Ye-es. The question is, is he up to the job?”
    Merrick made a face. “Don’t ask me. I got no idea what he can do, and no idea what the job is anyway. The last time I knew this much fuck all, we was on a boat to China.”
    “And now we’re going back to Piper,” said Crane. “And on the whole, I’d rather be in Shanghai.”

Chapter Six
    There was an extremely old carriage waiting for them at Lychdale station. It had a faded coat of arms on the side and half a dozen magpies perched on the roof. The coachman gave an unenthusiastic grunt as the three men emerged from the station and made a token effort to help with the bags before whipping up the horses.
    Stephen grabbed the edge of the seat as the coach began to move. “Is this thing not sprung?”
    “No. Absolutely nothing in this place is conducive to comfort,” said Crane. “The house is decaying, the furnishings are museum pieces, half the staff are consumed with loathing of me out of loyalty to my father, or because I remind them of my brother. In any case, they’re people who lived in the same house as Hector when there are perfectly good ditches to die in, which tells you as much as you need to know. Nobody within thirty miles of Piper can cook. And you can thank your lucky stars for the weather, I doubt we’ll need more than four or five fires to make the place tolerable of an evening.”
    “Well, some cool would be a respite.” Stephen fiddled with the ancient catch in an attempt to pull down the window. “It’s very hot.”
    “Piper will be damned cold,” said Crane. “If we find a witch, we should definitely burn her.”
    It was a good half hour’s drive in the most uncomfortable carriage Stephen had ever encountered. Crane and Merrick both settled into a sort of traveller’s trance, eyes shut, minds inactive, getting through an unpleasant journey by reducing mental engagement to a minimum.
    Stephen was hot and jolted, wearisomely tired after his nap on the train but without a chance of sleeping, and his hands were increasingly uncomfortable. The train journey had been unpleasant, naturally, but that was the iron of the carriages surrounding him. This was ambient, in the ether; it was old and awkward and dry like a scab, and it was getting stronger as they drove.
    When they reached Piper, Stephen began to see what it was.
    He stood in front of the house and stared at it. Piper was a substantial Jacobean building in grey stone, with small panelled windows sitting in the thick walls like deep-set eyes. The front was hung thickly with ivy, and the woods encroached too closely on what had once been elegant gardens. The gravelled drive was pierced by weeds. Magpies screeched and cawed in the trees, and a trio of the birds strutted in front of the three men.
    “Three for a funeral,” he muttered. “This is a mausoleum.”
    Crane glanced at him but didn’t ask for an explanation. Stephen wouldn’t have given one anyway. The etheric flow round the house was an abnormal trickle, the woods pounded in his consciousness far more than he’d expected, and there was a dreadful sense of something pent up, bottled for years, brooding.
    “Dormant,” he said, mostly to himself. “Or dead. Too long asleep to wake. Coma.”
    “You’re being a little unnerving,” said Crane. “Are you going to tell me there’s a beautiful princess sleeping in the tower room?”
    “That wouldn’t be my first guess.” Stephen pushed his hands through his too-short hair. “Have you seen the mummies at the British Museum?”
    “The Egyptian ones? No, not yet. But they have a similar thing in China.”
    “Did you ever imagine if they started moving? Withered hands reaching towards you and sunken