Page 101 of Avalon Tower

“Depends how trained you are. I can probably sense him from a few hundred yards. But you? Twenty, thirty yards, tops.”

There’s that “bad at politics” thing again.

But I think she’s also right. Even when I’m near the veil itself, I don’t hear the buzz until I’m a few dozen yards away. And with everyone drunkenly shouting around me, I can hardly think straight.

An enormous pipe organ is shrieking to my left, while on my right, a loud machine is emitting a stream of pink steam with an ear-shattering hiss. On top of that, Nivene is whispering in my ear, demanding that I walk faster, concentrate, tell her as soon as I sense anything, wanting to know why I haven’t found him yet, and—

It’s there and gone. Just a hiss, a murmur, so weak that I sense it more than I hear it. But it’s familiar and resonates with my magic. The hum of a veil, somewhere to my right, already dissipating.

I push my way in the direction I think it came from and move through the fair, closer to the river. As I nudge against a large man, I get a glimpse into his thoughts, something about a cuckoo clock he wishes he hadn’t bought. I push his voice away, trying to suppress my telepathy while letting my Sentinel power grow. Tuning out the distractions feels impossible, like trying to thread a needle while jumping rope, but there! That hum again, just a hint, but this time, it’s more constant. I can follow it through the crowd.

“Cheer up, love!” a man shouts at me. “Might never ’appen.”

I’m already past him, by the river walk now. There are no more rides here, but stalls of people sell fish and chips and pies.

I know he’s somewhere down here by the dark, glittering Thames.

Now, the hum is getting louder in my ears.

“Nia, I’m in Whitechapel,” Nivene says. “I think I’m going to turn around and—”

“I have him,” I say breathlessly.

“What? Where?”

I catch my breath. It takes me a second to remember what this entrance to the Tower is called. “I’m at Traitor’s Gate by the Tower. I can’t see him yet, but I can definitely feel him. He’s on the move, heading for Tower Bridge.”

“Bloody hell, I’m way too far north,” Nivene says. “Don’t lose him. And no matter what, don’t engage him. Wait for me, okay?”

“Got it.”

There are a ton of people on the riverside walk, and I scan them as I move, assessing each person for risks, details, pieces of information. A policeman saunters over the cobblestones, looking unconcerned. A couple is making out against a tree, and a man is trying to jog but somehow going the same pace as everyone walking.

Then I see him.

He stands out because of his clothes and his height. He wears a hoodie that shadows his face and black pants. All black, just like the other veil mage I encountered. Not different enough from other bystanders to draw attention…unless someone’s looking.

Now that I’ve spotted him, the hum grows louder. Just as he glances over his shoulder, I slip behind the slow jogger, sticking to the shadows. As I do, I realize the veil mage has doubled back and is heading into the thick of the fair.

It’s hard following someone alone. Usually, when tracking a person, you do it with a team. Then, you can break away as someone else switches with you. Have enough people working together, and your target never realizes he’s being followed at all. But when doing it alone, I have to improvise. Let the target get out of sight constantly. Do my best to camouflage myself in the crowd, sipping my beer like I’m just another drunk person. My one advantage is that even though I can’t see him, I can still hear him humming in my ear, the buzz over my skin.

I whisper updates to Nivene, telling her each ride and stall that I pass.

She’s on her way, trying to get a taxi to get here faster. She keeps telling me not to engage him, repeating the admonition so many times that I wish the conch shell had a mute button.

But I can still hear him. He’s moving to the outskirts of the fair, heading north. He hurries past the rides, but he’s still close. I think the humming is coming from a stone and brick church. A blue sign on the marks it as All Hallows by the Tower—Founded 675.

I think the hum is coming from there, but Nivene isn’t here yet.

I’m standing at the edge of the fair, just before a stall with a horseshoes game and prizes of creepy eyeless dolls.

While I pretend to be interested in the stall, I keep my focus on the hum behind me, making sure that it doesn’t shift. It’s a tricky thing to do, like trying to taste music or listen to the sunlight. Sentinel magic isn’t supposed to be used to track a person. But as far as I can tell, he’s still there, inside the ancient church.

I smile at the stall keeper, a balding man in a tracksuit, and pay for a single ticket.

“There you are, love.” He hands me three iron horseshoes.

When I touch them, if I focus very hard, I can feel a faint tingle on my fingertips. But since I’m not fully Fey, it’s barely noticeable.