I start on the commission the very next day. Well, kind of. We have Tutor Group, so I ask Mrs Bird’s advice on the best place to get supplies for a private commission. I figured the college might’ve arranged discounts for students at one of the local art supply stores or something. She just writes me a note for college supplies. As long as you don’t empty the store cupboards or knick stuff to sell it, they’re cool with it.Then I get quizzed on the commission, and I’m kind of stuck to start with, because from what Reese said about how hard it was for his ancestors to track him down, Cavendish can be a private sort of guy. I don’t want to splash his name around if he’s trying to keep it quiet. He’s a patron of Sarah’s orchestra, though, so I just describe him that way. A guy who goes to watch my girlfriend’s orchestra a lot. I almost say “my

I am nervous. More than I have ever been. It’s not the same as being scared. Being scared was standing at the top of that cliff, trying to make myself jump. This time I can’t point at one thing and say, “that’s what I’m scared of.”  There’s too much that could go wrong. There’s too much that could go right, that I’ll be angry at myself about if it doesn’t. Sarah’s with me. I never really… feel totally comfortable. I know how to behave when I have to be formal because I was taught that way all my life, but it’s still like I’m wearing a mask. It’s something I put on when I need it. Sarah just… is. Even when she’s in jeans and sneakers, it’s like she’s been polished ready for display. Not because she’s vain. Because she’s… naturally classy, I guess. My Mate is way out of my league, but she’s chosen me anyway. I’m the luckiest guy in the whole world. And now

“Well, that could have gone worse,” Tom remarks from his sprawl in the corner of the cab. The little window into the cab driver’s compartment is shut. I can hear music through the plastic, turned up pretty loud. It’s a pretty safe bet that she can’t hear anything we say unless we shout it.“It could have gone better,” I sigh. “It wasn’t supposed to be a formal visit.”“Aiden, my poor dear, you’re their king,” Sarah tells me, like she’s breaking bad news to me. “If you insist on acting as if you’re just their beer buddy, you’ll worry them. They have expectations. They need you to be someone they can look up to.”I never asked for this. If someone else was doing it, I wouldn’t have to. “I don’t

The wooden frames of the canvasses click on the polished wooden table top. It sounds very loud, even though the room is huge. All dark wooden panels, and a real fancy ceiling. The carpet’s so thick you can’t hear your feet. I can’t hear Cavendish either, but he doesn’t have a pulse or need to breathe so I guess that makes silence easier for him. Makes it easier for hlm not to show a reaction either. No little gasp of breath or increase of heart rate. I put the canvasses down as I planned them. The separate frames make one page. Together, they’re the size he asked for. Bigger, I guess, if he spaces them out. I used paint, but colored it like a printed comic, just dots of three colours and black, so you only see the image when you step back a bit. Comic-book pointilism. They call them Ben-Day Dots after the guy who invented the printing technique, but I’ve taken i

In hindsight, it was my fault. I forgot to pass along one vital piece of information. The only good thing is that the Goldhawk werewolves were travelling to Blackmarsh in their own cars. That means they’re not there when the irate giant leafy plants erupt from the driveway in front of the house, envelope Jade and lift her right off her feet, amid an almost overwhelming scent of mint sauce. Everything is noise and movement and confusion. Voices shouting. A thick, sticky rushing sound, like a mudslide arriving. A seven foot tall wolf-man with a bronze sword and a shield to one side of me. On my other side, Mary looks transparent and insubstantial in the sunshine, but she has a meat cleaver clenched in each hand and her teeth are bared. I catch a flash from the corner of my eye. Tala or Reese, I can’t tell which, but the soft chanting from behind me is Shelley, and this could go so very wrong, very, very qui