by Amanda Fleet
“Cuckoo!”
“Keep walking,” I said, leaning on Finn.
“Hey! Cuckoo! I’m talking to you.”
Despite my best efforts at keeping Finn moving, he stopped. Stephen stood just outside the pub, but he looked clear-eyed, not drunk. He must have seen us as we passed the pub window. He’d obviously managed to get some clothes that fitted him as the sweatshirt he wore looked new, under an equally pristine jacket, and clean trainers poked out beneath better-fitting jeans. His belly still flowed over the waistband though.
He held both his hands up and waggled his fingers at us. “Great invention. No fingerprints.”
Black leather gloves clad his hands. Finn bristled and I pressed against him, trying to get him walking again. Stephen reached into a pocket and a phone glowed in his hand.
“Finn, keep moving,” I urged. “He’s filming us. You so much as look sideways at him and John will use it against you.”
With difficulty, I propelled Finn towards our cottage. As soon as our backs were turned, Stephen called after us, his voice ringing down the street.
“Don’t think you’re safe, Cuckoo. Someone even worse than me wants you dead.”
My blood turned to ice in my veins. It was Finn’s turn to keep me walking away.
Who the hell did Stephen mean?
11
Monday afternoon found me waiting to be called in for my interview. The room was bright and airy with comfortable seats upholstered in a vivid turquoise that reminded me of pictures of the Caribbean. A drinks machine sat on a counter at the side, gurgling occasionally. The last candidate to go in had been a man a few years older than me. He was now back and had taken off his jacket and made himself a coffee. He’d offered to make drinks for everyone, which was nice, but no one else wanted anything. An older man was pointedly ignoring everyone else. The first woman in hadn’t returned to the room and another woman, a similar age to the aloof guy was now being interviewed. Everyone looked at least ten years more experienced than me. My designs were clutched on my lap and I felt stiff and uncomfortable in my clothes. I tried to remember to do my breathing exercises and hoped my antiperspirant would hold out.
The interview with the older woman finished and she too decided not to come back to the room. I wondered if it would be me or the other man up next.
Me, apparently.
“In you come, Ms Bennett.”
A woman with blonde hair cut in a sharp bob that emphasised her cheekbones ushered me in. I felt naked without my war-paint and nose-ring and although I was confident that I looked good in what I was wearing, it wasn’t as natural to me as jeans and a t-shirt would have been. I plastered a smile to my face, thanked the woman and followed her into the room.
There were two other people on the interview panel – another woman, slightly younger than the one who had brought me in, and a man about twenty years older than me with dark, piercing eyes.
“Let me introduce everyone. This is Lucy Ashcroft and Toby Hall, both senior designers here, and I’m Heather Green, head of human resources. Do have a seat.”
I perched nervously, my mouth dry. Lucy Ashcroft had shoulder-length wavy hair of a colour best described as mousy, dark blue eyes, and a welcoming smile. She was dressed as if she modelled for Vogue – a blend of classic, well-tailored skirt-suit in grey, with a quirky twist of a loudly patterned cerise scarf and over-chunky jewellery – and seemed utterly relaxed. Toby Hall was a different matter entirely. His bitter-chocolate eyes gave the impression he was reaching into my soul and not liking what he found. He wore light-coloured trousers and an open-necked shirt, and his salt and pepper hair was cropped short, making him seem older than his line-free face suggested.
Like the room we’d been asked to wait in, the interview room was bright and airy, with pale walls and focal splashes of turquoise. The chairs were grouped around a light beechwood table, with the three of them clustered together on one side and me on the other.
Heather Green slid into the vacant seat. “Ms Bennett, did you get the brief we sent along with the invitation to interview?”
I nodded and pushed the folder I was clutching on to the table. We had begun.
The interview went on a lot longer than I’d expected but seemed to go well. They asked me how I’d come up with my original designs, whether I’d sought help, and what had influenced the changes from the original work I presented to the finished product. I answered as truthfully as I could. My partner hadn’t much liked the initial colours; a friend from the college had offered advice and suggestions; I’d amended the colour scheme in light of their feedback. Yes, I was pleased with the final design. Yes, I would be open to further feedback. No, I wouldn’t be offended if my designs were rejected by the team-leader though I would seek further feedback on why they hadn’t been accepted. No, my partner wasn’t in the design industry, he was a personal trainer but he was after all a member of Joe Public so his view was important too. There was much nodding from Ms Ashcroft and some meaningful glances exchanged between the three though I didn’t know what the meaning was.
“Thank you very much, Ms Bennett. I’ve appreciated your candour,” said Lucy Ashcroft at the end.
Was that good or bad?
Heather Green got to her feet. “We will be making our decision today and letting all candidates know. You’re more than welcome to wait back in the other room if you want, but if you need to leave, that’s fine. We’ll call you with our decision.”
“Oh, I’ll wait, thank you.” I had nothing better to do.
I returned to the waiting room. The guy who’d made the coffee was scrolling through his phone. I gave him a tight smile that he didn’t return and went back to the seat I’d been in before.
I could see the main working area of the company through large plate-glass windows on one side of the waiting room. A small team of people sat at work stations and it seemed like a happy place to work. The staff all had smiles for each other and chatted together. At one point they all gathered around one person’s computer screen, talking animatedly for a few minutes, though I couldn’t see the screen to know what was being discussed. One woman moved away, returning with what looked like a large board with a minimalist design on it that reminded me of Japanese calligraphy, and pointed at it, her hand making large sweeping gestures as she talked. There was much nodding and agreement and then the group broke up and returned to their own work places full of good humour. I wanted the job more than ever.
My room was far less convivial. Silent-man had been called in, leaving only me and coffee-man who was still playing with his phone. I wasn’t hypocritical enough to pass pleasantries with someone I neither knew nor wanted to get to know, so I stayed silent. Anyway, which would be worse? Finding out you liked them or finding out you hated them? I picked at my nails and waited. No one else seemed to have been in for as long as I had. I stole a better look at coffee-man. He ticked all the trendy boxes – the right kind of glasses, just the right amount of product in his perfectly cut dark hair, expensive clothes and a swanky phone that he was glued to. Mine was on silent but it flashed to indicate a new message. I sneaked it on to my lap and read it surreptitiously. It was from Finn asking how it was going. I texted back that I thought it was going okay but that everyone else seemed a lot more experienced than me so I didn’t think I would get it. Almost immediately a message flashed back: you never know. I smiled. The man across the table raised his head, a slight curl to his lip and I looked away.
Ten minutes or so after the final candidate had come out and left, Ms Green returned to call in smug-coffee-man. My heart sank. He must have been given the nod in his interview.
I waited, fiddling with my phone, chewing my lip. Fuck! I had so wanted this job.
A few minutes later, the door opened again and smug-coffee-man stomped out. I frowned.
“Ms Bennett?” Ms Green smiled warmly at me.
I stood up, my heart racing. Ms Green ushered me back into the interview room.
�
�Ms Bennett, we would like to offer you the job.”
My jaw hit the floor. Seriously? Belatedly, I realised Ms Green was still talking.
“Although you are clearly at the start of your career, we were highly impressed with your work. We were equally impressed with your candour over who you’d liaised with.”
I tried to stop gawping.
“Uh, thank you, Ms Green. I’m delighted,” I managed to stammer out.
“We need to discuss the starting salary with you.”
What? I had no idea what to ask for. Thankfully, they opened the negotiations. Their first offer was at the low end of the range in the job advert, but was better than I got working part-time at the gym. My gaze fell on the papers in front of Mr Hall. A large figure was scribbled there, above the upper end of the range advertised, with an exclamation mark next to it. Had smug-coffee-man just priced himself out of the job?
I drew a deep breath and swallowed.
“Would you be prepared to go a little higher?” I asked.
Glances pinballed between them, but Ms Green nodded and offered another grand. I accepted. I wasn’t going to push my luck, especially given their opening line, pointing out how near the start of my career I was.
There were smiles all round. Not least from me.
“The job starts at the beginning of next month if you’re available,” said Lucy Ashcroft. “Heather here will get you sorted out with various bits of paperwork and so on, but let me welcome you to the team.” She leaned over to shake my hand.
I was in danger of resembling a complete idiot with a grin splitting my face in half but I mustered some composure. Heather Green also shook my hand and said she could give me some of the paperwork now, but that she would need to send some things out to me. To be honest, I was so shell-shocked that I wasn’t taking much in.
Toby Hall seemed far less happy about the decision. His gaze bored into me and he hadn’t yet smiled. Perhaps he was one of those people who never did.
“I look forward to working with you,” he said, a curious light in his eyes that was borderline sinister.
“Thank you.”
There was a flurry as various pieces of paper were put in a card folder and handed to me and then Mr Hall was standing in front of me, his hand extended.
“Ms…” He hesitated. “Ms Bennett.”
I took his hand. Instantly his face changed from the somewhat severe-looking mid-forties guy to a monstrosity with red eyes, dark wrinkled skin and a cadaverous face. Inside my head, a snarling, malevolent voice said, “You made me a lot of promises, Aeron. I will make you keep them.”
I caught my breath and he released my hand. Immediately, he was the guy who had interviewed me. His focus dropped to my wrist. “That’s an interesting charm. Where did you get it?”
I blinked. The bead was glowing a bright blue colour. “Um. It was a gift. From a friend.”
“Indeed.”
I was ushered out before I could say anything else. At my wrist, the charm lost the blue light and was opalescent again.
I dug my phone out and sent an elated text to Finn. One pinged back almost immediately claiming he’d never had a shred of doubt over it.
I smiled, the charm-bracelet catching my eye.
Blue for danger.
I rubbed my lips, my smiles gone. What the hell had I seen just now?
***
Back home, the image of the thing that Toby Hall had morphed into still flooded my head. Finn wasn’t due to get in from work for an hour, so I made myself a coffee and fished out my sketchbook. I pencilled a picture of Toby Hall, and next to it, an image of the demonic monster that had appeared while he was shaking my hand. Underneath, I wrote out what I’d heard in my head. I could swear that I’d never seen Toby Hall before, but the demon was exactly like the picture of Aegyir from the book, and the thing that had been staring at the house.
As I put the finishing touches to my drawing, doubt crept in. Had I actually seen the man change? Was I merely getting muddled with the things I’d read in the book? But if I had drawn the book while sleep-walking, I must have seen the thing before I’d drawn it. Unless I was imagining everything. The circular arguments were doing my head in and I packed everything away, frustrated.
Finn arrived home with the biggest bunch of flowers I’d ever seen.
“Either you’ve had an affair or I’ve just landed my dream job,” I said, taking them from him with a grin.
He picked me up and swung me around, kissing me hard. “Well, I’ve not had an affair, so I guess you must have landed your dream job. Well done, Rea. I knew you’d do it.”
“Ha. Well you knew better than me then. The other people there for interview were far more experienced than me, and I think they offered it to another guy first! I think he asked for too much money, which is why they gave the job to me. I’m cheap.”
He stuck his bottom lip out. “Maybe, but you got the job, and it’s better money than you get at the moment. And it’s what you want to do. When do you start?”
“Beginning of the month. Sorry, I haven’t made any dinner.”
“Thai takeaway?”
“Ooh. Expensive. We must be celebrating!”
He kissed me again. “Seriously, well done. I am so proud of you. Choose some takeaway then tell me all about it?”
***
After dinner, I clicked the telly on and surfed the channels until I found the national news, wondering if there was any update on the bodies found at the quarry. Our town was the main bulletin again. Yet another body had been found up at the quarry, three days after the body of Elaine Cooper had been found and in a spot not far from the two found yesterday. The police were saying the deaths were suspicious and that all were thought to have occurred where the bodies had been found.
“Police locally have named the victim as Toby Hall, a forty-four year-old man with a wife and twelve year-old son.”
I almost dropped my glass of wine as a picture of the man who’d interviewed me flashed up on screen.
“What?” said Finn.
“He interviewed me. He was the one who creeped me out.”
“Police think that Mr Hall was attacked while walking his dog and are asking for anyone who was in the Wood Lane Quarry area between lunchtime and eight o’clock this evening to come forward,” intoned the newsreader, before moving to a new topic.
I put my glass down on the table before I spilled it. “I can’t believe it. I met him this afternoon.”
“Are you sure it’s the same guy?” said Finn, turning the sound down on the telly.
“Mm. Here. Look.” I dug my sketchbook out and handed it to him, open at the right page. “I drew him when I came back.”
Finn scanned the pictures and frowned. “What the hell’s the thing on the right?”
I hesitated, tucking my legs up on the lumpy sofa and fiddling with my charm-bracelet. “Okay. Don’t think I’m mad. When he shook my hand at the end, after they’d offered me the job, his face changed so he looked like that.”
He quirked a brow up. “A demon? And what’s this underneath?”
“That’s what I heard in my head when he was looking like a demon.”
“Who’s Aeron?”
“It’s the name everyone calls me in my dreams,” I said slowly. The name I kept hearing being whispered around me.
I recognised Finn’s expression. It was the one he always gave me when I was drunk and spouting nonsense.
“I swear! I saw his face change and I heard him say that in my head. And now he’s dead!”
He rubbed his hand over his hair, leaving it spiked up. “Rea. You sound utterly deranged. You’re just sleep-deprived and mixing up your dreams with stressing about Stephen and the job, and then the relief at getting the job has made you hallucinate or something. It’s a bit alarming that he’s been murdered though.” He hesitated, his eyes drifting back to the telly, even though the news had moved on to something else. “Hang on, they said they were looking for people who�
��d been in the Wood Lane Quarry area between lunchtime and eight. You saw this guy in your interview and you weren’t out of there until after four. You should call the police and tell them that.”
I curled my toes up. “I’m pretty sure that his colleagues will be able to tell them that.”
“Call them.”
“And say what? That their timeline is wrong because he was interviewing me? They were asking for people who’d been in the Wood Lane Quarry area over that time presumably because the murderer could have been there before the attack on this guy. Maybe he’d tried to attack someone else. Maybe they think he lay in wait for ages or was scouting the area out or something. They must know he was at work today.”
“Just call them!”
I sighed, pulled out my phone and called 101.
The call over, I poured myself another glass of wine, unsettled. Was this going to come back and bite me in the arse? The charm that had turned up out of nowhere had glowed blue three times now and every time, the person nearest me had been described as a murder victim within hours.
Blue for danger.
Maybe the danger was me.
12
“Aeron, you must return.”
Lilja was standing in front of me, her face full of concern. Mist swirled around us, making it impossible for me to locate any landmarks. Her rose-pink jacket matched her cheeks and her eyes were bright with unshed tears.
“Aeron, listen to me! You must return. Lord Eredan will forgive you… Lord Eredan will need you.”
“And Faran?” My heart lurched at his name.
“He’ll want you to return.”
I turned away, snorting. “Are you saying that as a Seer or because you think I want to hear it?”
Lilja caught my hands, her hair falling forwards. “Aeron? Please! You have to return. Make your peace with Lord Eredan and Faran. Aegyir will kill you. He wants revenge.”
