'You recently killed a man?'

The bluntness of the question stung Clara and she could not meet the metal plates covering Van Bam's eyes. The light they reflected seemed to glare, as if the Resident could see directly into her thoughts. Her gaze flickered to the tin of medicine sitting on the desk, to the tank into which Fat Jacob was stuffed – dead but not dead – and she didn't dare speak. She looked to the floor and noted the Resident's feet were bare.

Hamir was no longer present. Van Bam had dismissed him from the laboratory; but before he left, the Resident had said that Fat Jacob was no longer of use, and that the aide was free to do with him as he pleased. Clara didn't know what that meant. She didn't want to know. She didn't even want to guess.

Van Bam tapped his green glass cane against the floor. 'Clara,' he said, 'I am not Captain Jeter. Silence will not buy you more time, and I will tolerate nothing but the truth here. Now – you recently killed a man, yes?'

'I had no choice,' Clara mumbled. Her throat felt dry. 'I was forced. I'm no murderer.'

'But you are a changeling,' Van Bam countered.

Clara was surprised to feel a flash of anger. She looked up and met the Resident's metal eyes. His dark brown face was inscrutable.

He said, 'I suspect you are an innocent party, Clara, or at least to some degree. If it were otherwise, Marney would have left you to Charlie Hemlock.'

Clara frowned.

The Resident continued. 'You are a victim of the dubious business conducted by Hemlock and the man you call Fat Jacob. But can you tell me who it is that Hemlock is working for?'

Clara shook her head.

'Then do you know why he wanted you? It was for your blood, perhaps?'

'I ... I thought that at first, too.' Clara rubbed the scab on her arm. 'But no, Hemlock wasn't interested in my blood at all.'

'Then what?'

'I don't know.' She shrugged. 'Fat Jacob hired me out for a home visit. It was just another night's work, or so I thought. But when I arrived at the address, Hemlock was waiting for me with an accomplice ...' She closed her eyes and relived distasteful memories.

'And then?'

'They tied me up,' she told Van Bam. 'They said they'd kill me if ... if I didn't change.'

'Change? Into the wolf?'

Clara nodded. 'They wanted to tire me out, they said, so I wouldn't be so much of a threat.'

'And they obviously succeeded.'

'I blacked out,' Clara continued, 'but I ... I can almost remember killing him—' slaughtering him, ripping him apart, enjoying the taste of his blood ...

Van Bam pursed his lips. 'But that was not Hemlock.'

'No – his accomplice. I never knew his name.'

'Go on.'

'There's a blank spot on my memory. When I woke up, I was in the Great Labyrinth. I don't remembering going there. I was wearing the dead man's clothes.

'Hemlock was nowhere to be seen at first. I-I tried to find my way out, but I was lost. When Hemlock caught up with me, he was with men dressed as priests. They had guns. I just ran. If Marney hadn't shown up, I-I don't know what would have happened.'

'Nothing good, one would presume.' Van Bam banged the tip of his green glass cane on the floor like a gavel striking a block. 'Clara, you should know that Marney and I were friends of old, but I have no real reason to trust her now. You will explain to me why she saved you. What instructions did she give you?'

Clara blinked several times. That glass box into which Fat Jacob's body was squashed seemed to be taunting her from the back of the room.

'I don't know,' she said. 'Marney didn't really say anything. She just let me go.'

This time, Van Bam's metal eyes followed Clara's gaze as she looked at her tin of medicine on the desk.

'Perhaps you are innocent, Clara. Perhaps you are not. Either way, if you want your medicine, I would be more forthcoming if I were you.'

Clara licked her lips, as if to sample the lingering taste of the empath's kiss. 'I don't know what to tell you. Marney did something to me. She ... she kissed me—'

The conversation was interrupted by a click, and the door to the laboratory opened. Hamir stood on the threshold. He bobbed his head respectfully.

'Excuse the intrusion, Van Bam, but I thought you should know that the security eyes have activated in the forecourt. Someone has approached the Nightshade.'

Still facing Clara, Van Bam cocked his head to one side. 'Marney?'

'No. It is another old friend.'

'Ah ...'

Van Bam was silent for a moment, and Clara looked from one man to the other.

'Then have the servants bring him inside, Hamir,' said the Resident. 'Show him to my study.'

'As you wish.'

Hamir smiled at Clara, and she shuddered. He continued smiling at her as Van Bam strode out of the room, saying over his shoulder, 'Come, Clara.'

Confused and disturbed, Clara struggled to keep up with Van Bam's long strides. Each of his steps was punctuated by a tick of his green glass cane on the floor. He walked with the confidence of one with full sight. The endless, repetitive corridors and stairwells of the Nightshade had an hypnotic effect on Clara; she almost walked into the back of Van Bam as he stopped suddenly and opened another hidden door in the wall.

He led her into his study, where it was immediately evident that the Resident of Labrys Town had little time for personal comforts.

The study was as brightly lit as the corridor. The walls were the same cream colour, but they were devoid of the ubiquitous maze pattern, and Clara's eyes relaxed slightly. There was an ornate wooden desk at one end, with two matching chairs on opposing sides. To the right of the desk a full-length mirror stood in the corner, set in a silver frame. And that was it; no cabinets or bookcases, no paintings or plants – nothing that indicated any kind of taste or pleasure.

Van Bam closed the door, and it became indistinguishable from the wall. Taking Clara's arm, he led her gently over to the mirror and positioned her with her back to it. He gripped Clara's shoulders, and once more she got the impression that the metal plates covering his eyes were searching her face. In the bright light of the study, Van Bam looked much older than he had appeared in the shadows of Hamir's laboratory.

'You are young,' he said, 'and there is much you claim not to know. Yet I wonder, Clara, how much does Marney trust you?'

'I don't know what you mean!' Was he angry with her? 'I never knew her before tonight, I still don't—'

'You have heard of the Relic Guild?'

Clara looked puzzled. 'Yes, of course.'

'But was Marney trusting enough to tell you the truth?'

'I don't understand.'

Van Bam cocked his head to one side, as if listening to something. 'A friend has come to see me,' he said. 'He must not know of your presence. You will stand here, before this mirror, Clara. Remain quite still and you will not be noticed. Understand?'

His tone left no room for refusal or further questions, and so Clara nodded.