The two boys fidget, eager for me to refuse.
‘I’m sorry, Your Magnificence,’ I echo.
Her Magnificence, who has been smiling the whole time, tips back her head and cackles. ‘Oh, we’re all friends on the Longest Night, aren’t we?’
‘Of course,’ I agree, and shoot not-very-friendly glances to the teenage zombies flanking me. They each back up, but only a few inches. ‘Happy Saturnalia. I’m only passing through –’
‘You’re being followed,’ Her Magnificence says with a new gravity. The teenage subjects fidget more, but there’s a giddy energy to it now. ‘I see a human spirit. Not one of the dead here – this one’s body lies elsewhere.’
‘What does he look like?’ I ask.
‘Young,’ she says. ‘He wasn’t much older than you when he died.’
‘Does he need a haircut?’ I ask. ‘And a close shave?’
‘You
