‘But he won’t let me.’ Her voice rose in despair. ‘I can’t – can’t – make him let go of me.’

Irene had to find some way to break the psychic control that Lord Guantes still exerted over Catherine. She didn’t wear anything as obvious as Irene’s chains, but there was indeed a controlling leash around the Fae’s mind. Then a thought came to Irene like a gift, an image – a symbol. ‘Catherine. Take off your gloves.’

Catherine shook her head repeatedly, a few tendrils of tightly bound hair fluttering around her face. But her hands were moving, fingers struggling as she began to claw at one glove’s buttons.

‘You can do it,’ Irene encouraged her, heart in mouth. ‘You’re strong enough to say no to me. You can say no to Lord Guantes. Just keep on pushing . . .’

Catherine’s eyes went worryingly blank. ‘But he said I could be his librarian. He said he wanted me to be a librarian.’ Her fingers fumbled, losing their grip on the buttons. ‘I don’t need to worry about anything . . .’

‘Take off those gloves,’ Irene said softly, ‘or you’ll never touch a book with your bare hands again. Do you remember holding the Malory? What it was like being able to touch those old pages, to open it and read it? What do you want, Catherine?’

‘Stop nagging me,’ Catherine snarled. Her eyes focused again, angry at Irene, but even more so at herself. She yanked at the glove, one last button ripping loose and bouncing to the floor. Then she dragged it off her hand, letting it drop as if it repulsed her. Fingers trembling, frowning at her own slowness, she pulled off the second glove. She was muttering to herself, her voice barely audible, as she dropped it in turn.

The two discarded gloves lay on the marble floor – uncannily lifelike, resembling some old sculpture of praying hands.

Catherine raked her arm across her face, wiping away tears, and looked at Irene. Finally her eyes showed true awareness. ‘What do we do now?’ she asked.

‘We get out of here,’ Irene said grimly. ‘And we raise hell.’

CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

‘Is there nothing on except soap operas?’ Shan Yuan demanded.

He’d taken possession of the apartment’s sofa and reclined on it, in what should have been a commanding posture. However, it was more akin to an invalid’s weariness. Kai sympathized. This world they’d been yanked into was towards the chaotic end of the universe – further than Vale’s world, further than others he’d tolerated in the past. As a result, he and his brother were grossly inconvenienced. It felt like a particularly bad bout of influenza, or how he imagined radiation sickness might feel – or worse. They certainly couldn’t take their natural forms here, and even if there was a large quantity of water nearby (which there wasn’t), Kai wouldn’t have been able to bend it to his will.

In fact, it was possible to imprison two dragon princes simply by locking the door – and that really galled Kai. Some things simply should not be allowed to happen.

They were in a rather nice apartment suite in a skyscraper. It was hard to be sure how high they were, but a glance out of the locked and barred window suggested the thirtieth floor at least. Outside, the city’s lights glittered in the darkness. Kai could just make out tiny vehicles flashing between them like luminescent deep-sea fishes, both at ground level and in the air. In the far distance Kai could see the Sagrada Familia – a building he recognized at once. The cathedral was floodlit, revealing a facade as intricate and fascinating as coral. It was an impressive landmark in the surrounding darkness. The feel of chaos hung heavy in the air around him, but he could sense it lay even deeper there. Part of him wanted to flinch from the sight, but the more mature, combative side of his nature marked it as a target. Lord Guantes had been the last person Kai had seen, before they were snatched to this world. If that was the cathedral another Lord Guantes had mentioned to Irene with his last breath, then this was the centre of the conspiracy . . .

‘I’m talking to you, Kai,’ Shan Yuan amplified his complaint. ‘Stop staring out of the window.’

‘I’m analysing our surroundings from a military point of view,’ Kai excused himself. He picked up the television remote control and skipped through channels, feeling lethargic. Everything was in Spanish. ‘Do you suppose they’re trying to brainwash us? With chaos?’

‘It could explain why we’ve been kept alive,’ his brother muttered.

Kai still didn’t have an answer to that, other than wondering what came next. But he kept that to himself.

He did feel guilty about Shan Yuan’s presence. When the lights had gone out, back in the People’s Palace, some sort of chaos portal had formed under his feet. His brother had leapt to Kai’s side without a moment’s hesitation, trying to drag Kai free – and he had, as a result, been pulled through too. Kai was responsible for his brother being here, trapped at the wrong end of the universe, in peril of death, or worse . . .

‘Kept alive to languish in this banal cell, forced into each other’s society, deprived of liberty, with chaos sullying our bodies and spirits – you should have been able to handle your affairs better than this, Kai.’

. . . though he had to admit that Shan Yuan’s attitude wasn’t helping. And Shan Yuan hadn’t been invited to join their mission anyway, so it was his own fault he was here.

‘It could be a lot worse, elder brother,’ he said. ‘We could each be chained up in a windowless cell, on our own, with no idea whether the other is alive or dead.’

‘Don’t give them ideas, Kai,’ Shan Yuan hissed. ‘They might be listening for you to describe your worst nightmare, so that they can act on it.’

‘Oh, I’m sure they’re listening. We’ve seen this place is high-technology. Only someone really stupid wouldn’t put hidden microphones in here.’

Kai sat down, giving in to the weariness that suffused his body and made his bones ache. He wished he could explain to Irene that he didn’t loathe high-chaos worlds due to prejudice, but because they made him feel ill and utterly shattered. This brought his thoughts back to Irene again – and Vale, and Catherine – and he wondered where they were. In other rooms inside this skyscraper? Or somewhere far worse? The Sagrada Familia? His hand clenched on the remote as he brooded on his powerlessness.

He forced himself to loosen his fingers. Enough self-indulgence. Time to be proactive.

They – their mysterious captors – had removed his knife and lock picks. He prowled the apartment, assessing its furnishings and features with a view to mayhem. There were no sharp kitchen implements or razors, though the bottles in the drinks cupboard could be broken. There was no computer access. The window was possibly breakable, but given how high up they were, a human body wouldn’t survive the fall – and jumping out, in the vague hope that he might take dragon form before he hit the ground, would probably end unhappily. However, Irene had shown him many useful applications for harmless household goods in the past . . .

‘What are you doing?’ Shan Yuan asked querulously.

‘Reviewing the situation,’ Kai answered. ‘We have basic microwave meals in the kitchenette here. No sharp knives, though.’