The Shadow Cabinet Read online

  DON’T MISS THE FIRST TWO BOOKS

  IN THE SHADES OF LONDON SERIES:

  The Name of the Star

  The Madness Underneath

  ALSO BY MAUREEN JOHNSON

  13 Little Blue Envelopes

  The Last Little Blue Envelope

  Suite Scarlett

  Scarlett Fever

  Girl at Sea

  Devilish

  The Bermudez Triangle

  The Key to the Golden Firebird

  Vacations from Hell with Libba Bray, Cassandra Clare,

  Claudia Gray and Sarah Mlynowski

  Let It Snow with John Green and Lauren Myracle

  G. P. PUTNAM’S SONS

  Published by the Penguin Group

  Penguin Group (USA) LLC

  375 Hudson Street

  New York, NY 10014

  USA | Canada | UK | Ireland | Australia

  New Zealand | India | South Africa | China

  penguin.com

  A Penguin Random House Company

  Copyright © 2015 by Maureen Johnson.

  Penguin supports copyright. Copyright fuels creativity, encourages diverse voices, promotes free speech, and creates a vibrant culture. Thank you for buying an authorized edition of this book and for complying with copyright laws by not reproducing, scanning, or distributing any part of it in any form without permission. You are supporting writers and allowing Penguin to continue to publish books for every reader.

  Library of Congress Cataloging-in-Publication Data

  Johnson, Maureen, 1973–

  The shadow cabinet / Maureen Johnson.

  pages cm—(Shades of London ; book 3)

  Summary: “Rory, Callum and Boo are still reeling from a series of tragic events, while new dangers lurk around the city from Jane and her nefarious organization”—Provided by publisher.

  [1. Boarding schools—Fiction. 2. Schools—Fiction. 3. Murder—Fiction. 4. Ghosts—Fiction. 5. London (England)—Fiction. 6. England—Fiction.] I. Title.

  PZ7.J634145Sh 2015 [Fic]—dc23 2014031153

  ISBN 978-0-698-17171-8

  The publisher does not have any control over and does not assume any responsibility for third-party websites or their content.

  Version_1

  Contents

  More books in this series

  Title Page

  Copyright

  Dedication

  December 22, 1973

  Three Missing

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  St. Mary’s Hospital, West London

  Two Missing

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Chapter 11

  Chapter 12

  Chapter 13

  Chapter 14

  Chapter 15

  Chapter 16

  Chapter 17

  Chapter 18

  Chapter 19

  The Boatman Pub

  Three Found

  Chapter 20

  Chapter 21

  Chapter 22

  Chapter 23

  Chapter 24

  Chapter 25

  Chapter 26

  Chapter 27

  Chapter 28

  Chapter 29

  Chapter 30

  Chapter 31

  December 21

  Acknowledgments

  For Zelda

  DECEMBER 22, 1973

  WEST LONDON

  THE CURTAINS AT 16 HYSSOP CLOSE HADN’T BEEN OPENED all day. The neighbors all agreed—something wasn’t right about the place anymore, not since the Smithfield-Wyatts had died and their twins now ruled the roost. The people that went in and out, for a start. Rock musicians. Actors. Old, bearded men in cloaks who the more suspicious locals thought might be poets. Worst of all were the gaggle of young people—all rough-looking, with long hair and ragged, garish clothing. It was the same group every time, coming in and out at all hours, laughing and chatting and flicking their cigarettes into everyone else’s rosebushes. (Were they cigarettes?) And that girl who lived there—the one with her hair cut short and dyed the color of a London bus, the one who wore men’s suits—who was she? Aside from up to no good.

  The thing was, the twins were always so polite, and they never made any noise, really, so there was no cause to call the police. It wasn’t a crime to have strange-looking characters come in and out all day long or not to open the curtains. But things went wrong on Hyssop Close now. There were power cuts that could never be explained and didn’t affect neighboring streets. Windows cracked, and cats ran away.

  Maybe it was a commune. Maybe it was a meeting place for student revolutionaries—those were springing up all over. Why, in New York, these kinds of student groups were taking up residence in the better neighborhoods and building bombs. One of them managed to blow up a house! It had been in the papers. Maybe number sixteen was full of bomb builders.

  Whatever the case, something was wrong with that house, and the neighbors watched it closely, waiting for the curtains to move, trying to get a glimpse of what was inside . . .

  • • •

  Inside, the girl with the short hair dyed the color of a London bus was lighting candles in the main reception room. Her name was Jane Quaint. The group of kids who made the neighbors so wary were sitting on all the sofas and on the thick shag carpets. Jane made her way around the room with her lighter. Sid and Sadie insisted on candlelight, and lots of it. The candlelight was especially effective in this room because so much of the furniture was mirrored, cutting sharp traces of light through the velvety darkness. Blinding light or deepest shadow—this was a room of extremes in a house of extremes. One popular wag had described it as looking like a Victorian brothel on Mars.

  As she made her way around, Jane examined the visitors’ faces in the various reflections and pools of light: Michael, Domino, Prudence, Dinah, Johnny, Mick, Aileen, Badge, George, and Ruth. Jane knew them all so well. They were good kids, all special. Maybe not the brightest, generally, but she was fond of them.

  “Where are Sid and Sadie?” Dinah asked.

  Dinah was the youngest—only fifteen. Unlike Jane’s, her red hair was natural, and her face was flecked all over with freckles.

  “Coming,” Jane said.

  “What’s going on tonight?”

  The person asking was Mick—Mick of the beautiful long black hair and a face to match. Everyone was in love with Mick, and he knew it. This easy and widely available love made him presumptuous. He had the air of someone expecting to be told at any moment that he had royal blood and was in line for some minor crown in a far-off but green land.

  “When Sid and Sadie are ready, they’ll be down. When they want you to know what’s going on, they’ll tell you. Remember, you’re lucky to be here.”

  Mick smiled and dared Jane with a flutter of his long eyelashes.

  “We’ve been waiting ages.”

  “You’ve been waiting an hour. Be quiet and have a smoke or something.”

  “And what’s all this for?”

  He indicated an arrangement of red glass goblets on the mirrored table.

  “You know better than to ask,” Jane said. “When you need to know, you’ll know.”

  “Sod that. Give us a drink.”

  “Did you all do as you were told?” Jane asked, ignoring this.

  Murmurs of
assent from around the room. Jane looked to each person to make sure.

  “Did it matter how long we went in?” Aileen asked. “Only, the pigs come when you get in the river, even down by the beach. I just got in for a minute, but I washed my face and hands like you said.”

  “That should be fine,” Jane said.

  “We’ll probably get dysentery,” Mick added, half pushing himself from his spot on the rug. “All the blessed children will have naughty tummies from bathing in the Thames. Give us a drink, Jane.”

  “You’ll keep your fast until they come down.”

  “I’m going to go up, see what’s keeping them.”

  “You’re going to see the back of my hand,” Jane said.

  The others watched this tiny dispute with wide-eyed amusement. These breaches of conduct didn’t usually happen. Something about tonight was different, and everyone could feel it. Sid and Sadie had summoned the group, and a summons from them brought excitement. Jane understood this better than anyone.

  Jane’s life had been nothing before Sid and Sadie. She was a nobody, stuck in a northern town, working in a shop. Then one night the local menace had followed her across a moonlit field, attacked her, left her for dead. But Jane did not die. She survived the night and gained the gift. From then on, she could see them—the ones on the other side. Her old life was over. She got on a bus and went to London. That she had no money wasn’t important to her. She lived in squats and ate thrown-away food from garbage bins and hung out at occult bookstores and read. Then, one summer’s day, they walked into the bookshop Jane was in. Sid wore a silver suit with a red tie and had a hat cocked over his eye. Sadie was like a wood nymph in a flowing green silk dress and soft leather slippers. They looked like creatures from another, more perfect world. They smelled of night jasmine and patchouli and fine cigarettes. They looked at Jane on the floor, dressed in her filthy, stolen dress, reading Aleister Crowley.

  Sadie walked right up to her, looked down, and said, “Why do I feel like you might be one of us? Sid, you see it, don’t you?”

  Sid tipped back his hat and considered Jane.

  “I think so, dear sister. I think so. Your eyes are opened, aren’t they, love?”

  How they knew, Jane could never tell. She would soon learn that Sid and Sadie Smithfield-Wyatt were not like anyone else. They knew things other people did not. If you had the gift, Sid and Sadie considered you family and you became one of theirs—one of that group of strange young people that followed them about. But Jane had always been different, right from the start. Her level of ability was exactly the same as the others—what made her stand out was her toughness. The others had come into their sight in a series of minor accidents or illnesses, then fallen into this lifestyle. Jane had fought for her life on that dark moor. It must have been there, in the set of her jaw, in the look in her eyes. The others were lovely moonchildren—Jane had fought against death and won.

  Sid and Sadie knew it just by looking at her. They saw all.

  “Oh, yes,” Sid had said, reaching down a hand to help Jane off the floor. “She’s special.”

  “I like her, Sid. She belongs with us.”

  “I agree completely, dear sister. It’s decided, then. You’re coming with us. We have far better books.”

  He dismissed the bookstore and everyone in it with a flick of the wrist. Everything about them was right and sure, and so Jane took Sid’s hand and went outside with them. She got into their yellow Jaguar, and together they rode off to Chelsea. A week later, she moved into their house with them and became their second in command. That was five years ago.

  In many ways, everything had been building to this night.

  Mick was about to start mouthing off again when, as if on cue, the door to the living room opened. Sid and Sadie filled the space. They were twins—not identical, of course, but their resemblance was remarkable. They were both tall, both blond and pale. They wore similar makeup—a silvery dusting on the cheeks and white above the eyes, an effect that seemed to erase their eyebrows and give their blue eyes a spectral appearance. In defiance of the cold and the dark, they were dressed completely in white—Sid in a light white suit, Sadie in a filmy, almost transparent gown that brushed and clung to the heavy carpet. Around their necks they wore identical silver lockets in the shape of a crescent moon.

  “Well, well,” Sid said. “Who’s being impatient?”

  “The usual suspect,” Jane said, pointing at Mick.

  Mick was still smiling, but he dug his fingertips into the carpet sheepishly.

  “That will never do,” Sid said, leaning down to look at Mick. “It will never do.”

  “Sorry, Sid,” Mick mumbled. All of his bravado slipped away.

  “All is forgiven. You know we can’t help but love you.” Sid patted Mick’s head, and he and his sister continued into the room, the group leaning and moving to clear whatever path they chose to take.

  “What’s happening tonight?” asked Dinah. “You said it was something special.”

  “Oh, it is,” Sid said, coming around and taking a seat.

  “Wonderful things are happening,” Sadie added, smiling at Jane across the room. “Tonight, we celebrate the most sacred mystery in our faith. Jane, will do you the honors?”

  Jane picked up the red crystal decanter from the sideboard and filled the glasses on the table.

  “The kykeon,” Sadie said. “The sacred drink of the mysteries. We have prepared it exactly as it should be prepared. The sacred barley, the mint, the honey.”

  “We’re performing the mysteries tonight?” Dinah said.

  “We are indeed, darling,” Sid said, handing her a glass.

  A wave of excited shock seemed to pass around the room. Jane had been waiting for this. It was no small thing to perform the mysteries.

  “You didn’t tell us,” Domino said.

  “It’s best to come to these things with a fresh and open mind,” Sadie said. “There is nothing better than a surprise.”

  “Have you all done as instructed?” Sid asked. “Have you washed in the sacred river and kept your fast?”

  Again, murmurs of assent, but louder this time, and Mick was among them. Sid and Sadie passed out the glasses, touching each person on the head gently, whispering a friendly word to each. Jane poured three last glasses, for herself and Sid and Sadie. Once they had their glasses, Sid and Sadie took their positions at the other end of the room.

  “Tonight,” Sadie said, “as you know, is the solstice. As a family, we dismiss the dark. As a family, we know there is no day, there is no night, there is no life without death and no death without life. We are a circle, without end. And tonight, I ask you to lift your glasses. Tonight, something wonderful will be revealed. Lift, and drink.”

  Thirteen glasses were lifted. Ten drank.

  “Oh,” Dinah said, taking the glass from her lips. “It tastes . . .”

  She was the first to twitch. She was the smallest, after all. Within moments, the ten on the floor all began to cough and grab at their throats. Jane saw that flicker of confusion—the realization that the drink had more to it than a bitter taste.

  “It will be quick,” Sid said. “Don’t fight it, my loves.”

  Jane had expected it to be a little less dramatic—that they would just nod off and sleep. She wasn’t expecting them to gag and cry and claw at the air and the carpet. There was a smell of almond mixing with the incense and candle smoke—then a bit of vomit. George started crawling to the door, but Sadie set her foot on his back and he dropped to the floor. The noise was the worst part, so Sid went to the console and put the needle on a record and turned up the volume. Soon, the room was flooded with the sound of David Bowie’s latest.

  It took about five minutes, long enough for a song to play out. Mick was the last to go, and he was the one Jane had to watch. She saw that beautiful face, so cheerfully
smug, turn ashen. She saw the panic in his eyes. She saw this proud, lovely creature realize he was about to die—and even though he said he didn’t believe in death, his expression told a different story. She wanted to reach out to him, to go to him and cradle him and reassure him. It would be all right. It was worth it. But she found that she couldn’t move, except when Mick made one final, brave lunge for where she was standing by the back door. Jane jumped aside in terror. Mick didn’t quite make it to the door when he was overcome. He landed by her feet and stopped moving.

  There was no more music. Sid had chosen a track near the end of the side, so there was the whispery hiss of the record as it played out the silent bit where the grooves stopped. Jane heard the tiny sound of the arm of the record player lifting and going back to its resting position. There was no more movement from the people scattered around the room.

  “Well, that’s a relief,” Sid said. “It went on a bit longer than expected, but the best things often do. We should press on.”

  Sadie went to the table and opened the large box, revealing three knives with curved blades.

  “I have taken from the kiste,” she said, removing two and passing one to her brother. She held out the third for Jane. Jane found herself unable to leave her spot by the wall. She had known there would be ten bodies, but she had never envisioned them like this, contorted, twisted in pain. Some had grabbed hold of others, forming a horrid knot. She hadn’t imagined having to step over and around them—these things that had been people seconds before.

  “Jane . . .” Sadie prompted.

  “Sorry,” Jane said. “Yes. Of course.”

  Jane shook her head, took a deep breath, and stepped over Mick. His lovely black hair covered most of his face, but not all of it. His eyes were bloodshot and wide, his mouth open, gasping, the lips blue. She took the third knife.

  It was short work to make a small cut in each body. As the blood drained out, a bit from each person was put into a clean wineglass that the three of them passed around, until all ten bodies had been sampled.

  “This carpet will have to go,” Sid said sadly, looking at his feet. “But come, now. No time to waste.”