Jonathan Stroud

lan F,’ he said. ‘We follow Plan F, right now.’
I looked at him. ‘Is that the one where we run away?’
‘Not at all. It’s the one where we beat a dignified emergency retreat.’
‘You’re thinking of Plan G, Luce,’ George grunted. ‘They’re similar.’

‘You’re a girl,’ Lockwood called. ‘Aren’t you meant to be more sensitive?’
‘To emotions, yes. To nuances of human behaviour. Not necessarily to secret passages in a wall.’
‘Oh, it’s much the same thing.

‘Listen, Luce, you followed your instincts perfectly at Combe Carey, and because of that we all survived.’ He smiled at me. ‘I trust your Talent and your judgement, and I’m very proud to have you on my team. OK? So stop worrying about the past! The past is for ghosts. We’ve all done things that we regret. It’s what’s ahead of us that counts – right, George?’

The shape neither shrank nor changed, nor became vaporous, nor departed, nor did any of the other things the Fittes Manual claims they’ll do when you give them hope of release.

‘Really?’

‘No. I’m being ironic. Or is it sarcastic? I can never remember.’

‘Irony’s cleverer, so you’re probably being sarcastic.

I stared at him. ‘For a minute there I thought you’d been listening to George.’

‘Lucy, I’ve not been listening to George.’

‘That’s nice to know,’ Lockwood said. ‘George will bear it in mind. Now, how can we help you in our present capacity as professional psychical investigation agents?’

Somewhere in London a chained boy impatiently awaited death. The first stars showed in the sky.

your moral shabbiness fascinates and appals you. You can’t take your eyes off it. Which is why you’re so crashingly dull. Oh, and I know the DEPRAC rules as well as you, and if you pick fights with accredited agents off about their appointed tasks, Barnes will have your tweedy backside hauled over hot cobblestones to Scotland Yard. So why not go off and hassle someone else?’

The first read:

He will go into the dark.

The second:

He will sacrifice his life for you.