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       Copyright

      HarperVoyager

      An imprint of HarperCollinsPublishers

      1 London Bridge Street

      London, SE1 9GF

       www.harpervoyagerbooks.co.uk

      First published in Great Britain by HarperVoyager 2015

      Copyright © Peter Newman 2015

      Cover layout design © HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd 2015

      Jacket illustration © Jaime Jones

      Peter Newman asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work.

      A catalogue copy of this book is available from the British Library.

      This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.

      All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this e-book on screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins.

      Source ISBN: 9780007593071

      Ebook Edition © April 2015 ISBN: 9780007593101

      Version: 2016-03-08

       Dedication

       To Em,

       for lighting the way

      Contents

       Cover

       Title Page

      Copyright

      Dedication

      Chapter One

      Chapter Two

       Eight Years Ago

      Chapter Three

      Chapter Four

       Chapter Twelve

       Chapter Thirteen

       Eight Years Ago

       Chapter Fourteen

       Eight Years Ago

       Chapter Fifteen

       Eight Years Ago

       Chapter Sixteen

       Chapter Seventeen

       Seven Years Ago

       Chapter Eighteen

       Chapter Nineteen

       Chapter Twenty

       Seven Years Ago

       Chapter Twenty-One

       Chapter Twenty-Two

       Three Years Ago

       Chapter Twenty-Three

       Chapter Twenty-Four

       Chapter Twenty-Five

       Three Years Ago

       Chapter Twenty-Six

       Chapter Twenty-Seven

       Three Years Ago

       Chapter Twenty-Eight

       One Year Ago

       Chapter Twenty-Nine

       Chapter Thirty

       One Year Ago

       Chapter Thirty-One

       Chapter Thirty-Two

       Chapter Thirty-Three

       Acknowledgments

       Read an extract of The Malice

       About the Author

       About the Publisher

       CHAPTER ONE

      Starlight gives way to bolder neon. Signs muscle in on all sides, brightly welcoming each arrival to New Horizon.

      The Vagrant does not notice; his gaze fixes on the ground ahead.

      People litter the streets like living waste, their eyes as hollow as their laughter. Voices beg and hands grasp, needy, aggressive.

      The Vagrant does not notice and walks on, clasping his coat tightly at the neck.

      Excited shouts draw a crowd ahead. A mixture of half-bloods and pimps, dealers and spectators gather in force. Platforms rise up in the street, unsteady on legs of salvaged metal. Wire cages sit on top. Within, shivering forms squat, waiting to be sold. For some of the assembled, the flesh auction provides new slaves, for others, fresh meat.

      Unnoticed in the commotion, the Vagrant travels on.

      The centre of New Horizon is dominated by a vast scrap yard dubbed ‘The Iron Mountain’, a legacy from the war. At its heart is the gutted corpse of a fallen sky-ship; its cargo of tanks and fighters has spilled out in the crash, forming a skirt of scattered metal at the mountain’s base.

      Always opportunistic, the inhabitants of New Horizon have tunnelled out its insides to create living spaces and shops, selling on the sky-ship’s treasures. Scavenged lamps hang, colouring the shadows.

      One tunnel is illuminated by a glowing hoop, off-white and erratic. In the pale light, the low ceiling is the colour of curdled milk.

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