Page 395 of Mercy Written in Blood

But something in his voice made Haruki look closer. Not recognition of the face. Recognition of posture. The way the case was held. An old habit surviving in a body Renji had never met.

"What was in the case?" Mina asked.

Mori closed the file.

"We do not know."

Haruki looked towards Riku. The child now watched the photograph. Not frightened. Drawn to it.

"Riku?" his mother said.

He pointed.

"I've seen him."

No one moved.

"Where?" Haruki asked.

Riku looked towards Renji.

"In my dreams."

His mother's face emptied. Renji leaned forward.

"What happens in the dream?"

"There's a house under the ground."

The Archive.

"And the man?" Renji asked.

"He stands outside a door."

"What door?"

Riku shook his head.

"It doesn't have a handle."

Haruki felt pain gather beneath his ribs as his breathing changed. Renji's hand covered his beneath the table. Steadying. Present.

Riku continued.

"He says he's waiting for the others."

Mori opened the file again.

"The other descendants."

Riku nodded. Then looked towards the crest in the photograph.

"He says when all seven come home, the blood will remember what was taken."

Silence filled the conference room. Outside, the city moved through its ordinary morning. The First Law remained in effect. Sota remained dead. The Unveiled fractured and multiplied through grief. The coalition survived within names, charities,offices and families. The Archive beneath the estate waited behind a door requiring seven bloodlines. And somewhere in Tokyo, a man carrying the authority of a Takahara office Renji believed extinct had already begun gathering them.

Haruki looked around the table. At allies who did not trust one another. At organisations that had failed differently. At the child adults would soon begin searching for again. At Renji.