After a few moments of pottering about, he turned and faced her, an awkward smile etched across his stubbled face.
'Drink?'
'Yes, please.'
He quickly fixed her a glass of wine, cracking open a can of Doombar and uncharacteristically pouring it into a glass.
'This way.'
He led her through the hall, past the neat-yet-minimalistic front room to his office, which exploded into view at a flick of a switch.
Sophie was speechless.
It was like everything she had seen on TV.
A large map of London was hammered to the wall, photos and Post-It notes tacked onto it. The desk was covered in folders and sheets of paper; empty beer cans decorated the edges of the room. Cigarette butts had been strewn around like confetti.
Again, Bermuda opened a window before taking a swig of his drink and addressing his guest.
'This is it.' He walked towards the desk. 'Ground zero.'
'What is this?' she asked, her eyes glued to the board.
'It's a whole wall of 'I don't have a fucking clue',' Bermuda said, defeat straining through his words.
'Are all these people missing?'
Bermuda nodded. Sophie shook her head before her eyes fell on the photo of Jess. It was the one she had provided to the police several days ago. Her friend burst from the page, her vibrant smile betraying the danger of the situation.
A tear rolled down Sophie's cheek.
'Can you find her?'
Bermuda rested a hand on her shoulder, knowing any sort of comfort would do.
'I'm doing my best,' he reassured her. 'I know who has her. I just need to find him.'
Sophie sniffed, gratefully accepting the tissue that Bermuda handed her from the chaotic desk. The wind infiltrated through the open window, sheets of paper shuffled.
'What are you going to do when you find him?'
She turned to Bermuda, her beautiful face inches from his. Her sharp cheekbones wore black streaks, like tear-induced war paint.
'I'm going to get Jess, then I'm gonna kick his arse.' Bermuda coaxed a smile from her. 'I owe him.'
'Yeah?' Jess sniffed away her final tear. 'You promise?'
Bermuda looked her dead in the eye. 'I promise.'
She stepped forward and wrapped her arms around him, instantly retracting as he groaned in pain. She bounced back, worried.
'What?' she said, panicked.
'Nothing.' Bermuda struggled towards the door. 'Fuck.'
He stumbled forward, his shoulder colliding with wall of his hallway, a memory worth framing swinging and dropping to the floor.
Sophie hurried after him, helping him to a vertical base when she recoiled.
'You're bleeding?' she said, her eyes wide with fear.
'It's nothing,' Bermuda lied, reaching for the bathroom door and stumbling over the threshold. The door slammed against the wall, echoing against the white tiles. Sophie stayed in the doorway, afraid to encroach on his privacy.
Afraid to leave him in pain.
With a few grunts of pain, Bermuda eased himself out of his T-shirt, the white garment heavy with a crimson stain. He dropped it to the floor, staring ahead at the mirror.
He winced with agony.
Sophie took a breath. She had noticed his physique a few times, aware that he obviously took care of himself. But she was impressed with the muscular shape of his back, the muscles sharp and well defined.
The tattoos were incredible.
His entire upper body was covered in ink, a tapestry of letters and symbols. Hours of work, pain, and countless sittings.
His entire body was a work of art.
She couldn't take her eyes from it, and was realising she didn't want to.
'You want proof that the Otherside exists?' Bermuda's question pulled her from her thoughts, reminding her of the blood-stained T-shirt that carpeted the floor. Slowly Bermuda turned around, his chiselled body spoilt by the three large gashes that ran across his chest.
Sophie stared, dumbstruck. Blood trickled down his stomach, sliding across the words that were supposed to protect him. The wounds above were a testament to a job failed.
Under his right arm, a foul bruising was beginning to dominate, his cracked ribs shaking around like a box of his beloved Tic Tacs.
He was a mess.
The walking wounded.
Slowly Sophie stepped into the bathroom, silently running the flannel under the tap before approaching him. With genuine care, the first he had experienced in a while, she dabbed at the slashes that shook her to the core.
'Who did this?' she finally asked.
'You mean what.'
She gently dabbed, the flannel shifting from a light blue to red instantly. Bermuda grimaced, sucking air in through his teeth and clenching his fists. After a few more dabs, Sophie wrung the flannel over the sink, a faded red rain falling down into the porcelain bowl.
'You need to be careful.'
'This is careful.'
She scowled at him, not reciprocating the smile he flashed. He gently lowered himself onto the edge of the bath, gently lifting a cigarette from his pocket. Holding a now-ruined towel to his wounds, he blew smoke into the air.
'You really shouldn't smoke,' Sophie warned him, waving the smoke away from her.
'This is my flat,' Bermuda stated. 'Besides, there is another world trying to end ours and I'm in a shitload of pain. I think I'm allowed.'
Sophie snatched it from his fingers, taking a long draw before exhaling the smoke with a cough. He chuckled, retrieving his cigarette.
'Where am I going to sleep?' Sophie asked, her presumption catching Bermuda off guard.
'Erm, you can take my bed.' Bermuda pointed to the room across from the bathroom. 'I'll take the couch.'
She smiled her thanks before slowly walking towards his room. Bermuda struggled to his feet, eager to ensure the room wasn't too messy. His ribs ached, his chest roared with agony. Yet he found himself smiling.
That faded as soon as he entered the bedroom.
'What the hell are you doing?'
His angered words caused Sophie to spin in fear. The drawer by his bed was open.
In her hand was a photo.
'I'm sorry,' she murmured. 'The drawer was open...'
Bermuda stormed around the bed and snatched the precious picture from her hand, sliding it back in the envelope and slamming the drawer shut with a furious kick. He slowly calmed, his breathing deep and purposeful. Sophie waited a few moments.
'Who is she?'
'They can't know about her.' Bermuda shook his head, walking slowly towards the window. The streetlight opposite cut through the curtain, basking his toned body in a golden glow. He glanced the scowl on his face in the reflection.
'Who can't?'
'Have you not been listening to me?' Bermuda turned, his eyes watering.
Sophie slowly walked towards him, mortified by his emotional state.
'They are everywhere, and they have ripped my world apart and ruined my life for as long as I can remember. I won't let them ruin hers.'
'Who is the girl?'
Bermuda wiped away a tear, which twinkled under the invasive light.
'Chloe. My daughter.'
Sophie slowly reached out a hand, sliding her palm across his rounded shoulder, squeezing gently as a measure of comfort.
'She is beautiful.'
Bermuda nodded, trying to smile but finding himself battling more tears. He craved his daughter, to feel her arms around him as he hugged her.
To hear her refer to him as 'Daddy'.
To just be part of her life.
After a few moments of silence and a small barrage of tears, Bermuda let out a deep sigh, shaking his head. Sophie gently rubbed his shoulder, her heart beating faster for the broken man before her. Finally, the silence that rested between them was pierced.
'I'm sorry.'
'What for?' she whispered, taking a small step closer.
'I exist between t
wo worlds, yet I don't feel I belong to either one of them.' Bermuda shook his head. 'It's a lonely place to be.'
Very gently, Sophie reached out her hand, sliding it against the stubble that framed Bermuda's jaw. She turned his face, tearstains twinkling on his cheeks. She looked into his bloodshot eyes, the connection between the two of them almost complete.
'You are not alone.'
They leant in, their lips locking as they slowly began to kiss. Their tongues wrapped around each other, slithering like snakes as he slowly ran his hand up her spine. She ran her fingers through his hair before sliding her hands down the contours of his muscular back.
They fell onto the bed, still locked in their passionate embrace as they allowed the world to be enveloped in darkness around them.
Bermuda forgot what world he was a part of.
He didn't care.
As Sophie held onto him, pushing her lips against his harder and harder, he felt something beyond attraction.
He felt his loneliness evaporate.
The world had succumbed to the night sky once again, the streets empty and tranquil. A light breeze sent litter scurrying along the curbs, weaving in and out of the wheels of parked cars.
The entire street slept.
Even if they were wide awake, they wouldn't have seen him. His long, powerful frame. The tatty suit that clung to it.
The large top hat that adorned the scraggy, white hair.
The jet-black eyes.
Barnaby sneered at the buildings as he strode past, his disdain for the human race even begrudging them sleep. He slowly ventured down the street, waiting until he could feel it.
The call of the Otherside.
He glared into the shadows that slid off of the building, and the family of Others taking refuge in the darkness shuddered with fear. He flashed them a jagged, brutal smile that caused them to shield their eyes.
Pathetic.
Just like the humans.
He approached the door to the building, slowly walking through the barrier as if it was a hologram. He was not yet complete with this world. His convergence would soon be at an end.
This world would be his.
Everything would change.
He lightly whistled as he climbed the stairs, his steps measured and slow. After passing through a few more doors he had arrived, his dark eyes taking in the humble surroundings.
Soon it would all be dust.
He had only one more doorway to create.
One more life to merge.
This one, it had to count. It had to render Bermuda helpless. He wanted to ensure that his adversary, the man who was foolish and arrogant enough to claim that his species was dominant, would suffer.
He would not only fail.
He would break.
As he slowly wandered through the hallway, he stopped as he approached the bed.
The couple that lay across it were asleep, their arms wrapped around each other, ensuring their proximity would be felt throughout their slumber.
They were half clothed, suggesting to Barnaby that they did not make love, yet found themselves lost in the throes of passion still.
He watched as Bermuda and Sophie slept soundly, their bodies moving together as they breathed gently.
His eyes burned into Sophie, taking in what he saw.
Not a person.
But a reason for Bermuda to care.
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
Bermuda awoke early, his dreams of watching his daughter ripped into pieces by the world that hated him apparently quelled by the presence of Sophie. She lay peacefully, dark hair cascading carelessly across her face. Her breathing was soft. Peaceful.
He smiled.
Watching her sleep, he was glad that they hadn't had sex the night before. He had lost count of the number of mornings where he ushered a girl out of the house, the memories of the night messy. Their name forgotten.
Not Sophie.
She was special.
They had kissed passionately, falling into each other's arms on the bed. The pain that shot through his body vanished at the mere touch of her lips, an antidote in the form of a kiss. Before they undressed each other, they realised what the moment meant.
They had found someone.
Brought together by a tragedy.
They had lain together all night, sharing the odd gentle kiss when one said something the other one appreciated. Eventually they were lost to slumber, Bermuda protectively coiling his arms around her tight body.
He slowly slid his arm out from under her, pausing in fear as she murmured before failing to wake. Calmly she returned to the pillow, comfortably asleep as Bermuda eased himself off of the bed. His ribs ached, the pain unbearable as he necked two painkillers he retrieved from his cabinet. He looked at himself in the bathroom mirror, slowly shaking his head.
The swelling around his eye was starting to ease, the bruising fading, leaving his skin a faint brown, as if it had been dabbed by a tea bag.
The large cut was healing well, the stitches holding.
Across his chest, the three scratches looked fresh and radiated in agony. He slowly dabbed at them with a wet flannel, remembering the tender moment he shared with the woman who slept in the next room.
He was a mess.
Cursing the reflection, he crept from the bathroom towards the kitchen, his body craving caffeine and nicotine in equal measure.
As the coffee machine slowly drizzled the final droplets into his mug, Bermuda reached for his cigarettes.
'JESUS!' He startled.
Argyle stood in the doorway, his colossal frame filling the entire walkway. Bermuda put a hand on his heart, feeling it furiously rattle against his broken rib cage.
'Apologies.' Argyle spoke calmly. 'I did not mean to startle you.'
'I'm gonna put a bell on you,' Bermuda joked, lighting a cigarette.
'That would merely compromise my armour.'
'Yeah, well, it will reduce the risk of my impending heart attack.'
Bermuda sipped his piping coffee.
'Coffee?' he jokingly asked an unimpressed Argyle, who entered the kitchen.
'Yes please.' They both turned as Sophie appeared in the doorway, holding the frame with both hands and gently swaying. She had tried to neaten her hair, but her face was adorably sleepy. Bermuda flashed her a smile, ignoring the sceptical look on Argyle's face. She slowly entered the kitchen, walking past Argyle and completely unaware of his commanding presence. She slid her hands around Bermuda's waist as he prepared another mug, the coffee machine humming back to life. Resting her head against his back, she felt safe.
He smiled to himself.
Argyle coughed loudly, knowing full well she couldn't hear him. Instantly Bermuda slowly broke from the embrace before sheepishly getting the milk.
'Everything okay?' Sophie asked, her words laced with caution.
'Yeah, I'm fine.' Bermuda smiled. 'Did you sleep well?'
'For the first time since.' She smiled, smiling with appreciation as he handed her the coffee. 'Thanks.'
They stood in silence for a moment, Bermuda opening the window to allow the stale fog of smoke to slowly filter. He glanced at Argyle; the shake of the head told him that his partner didn't approve.
'So what's the next move?' Sophie asked, innocently moving to the counter, causing Argyle to carefully slide around her.
'I'm going to find this guy and bring your friend back. Pretty much.'
'Actually, you have a conduct meeting in front of the Committee,' Argyle interjected.
'What?' Bermuda angrily responded.
'What?' Sophie, confused at the random outburst.
'Sorry.' Bermuda frantically thought of an explanation. 'I thought you said something.'
'Are you sure you are okay?'
Bermuda slowly approached her, aware that Argyle was casting an eye over his every move. He didn't care. He could feel himself falling and he didn't want to hit the ground yet.
'I'm great.'
; He kissed her gently, her lips curling upwards into a grateful smile.
'See. This world isn't all bad, is it?' She swung gently on her heels, her arms wrapped around his neck.
'It's not this world I'm worried about.'
He gently released her grip before heading back towards the bathroom. The shower burst to life and Sophie checked her phone whilst finishing her coffee. Sat at the messy kitchen table, she had no idea of the hulking warrior that stood next to her.
After about fifteen minutes, Bermuda strode back into the kitchen. His tie-less shirt was open at the collar, the grey suit well fitted. His wet hair was combed back, neatly parting at the side.
Sophie smiled. 'You look very nice.'
'Thanks. I feel like a muppet.'
She stood, straightening the lapels of his blazer. He winced slightly, his broken torso sending a painful reminder.
'Help yourself to towels, coffee, food if there is any.'
She reached up and kissed him mid-sentence. They stood for a few moments, gently swaying as their lips locked. Argyle rolled his eyes.
'I have to go.' Bermuda smiled.
'Just be careful.'
Bermuda opened the door to his flat, allowing Argyle to squeeze through, his gigantic sword clanging against the wall. He turned back, smiling one more time at the woman before him.
'Careful is my middle name.' He slowly closed the door, but then pushed his head back through. 'Actually, it's Michael.'
'Go!' Sophie playfully pushed his head out of the door, closing it firmly. Bermuda stood on the spot, smiling. After a few moments, he turned only to find an unimpressed Argyle waiting, arms folded and head shaking.
'What?'
Bermuda protested the entire walk to the train station.
The meeting went as expected. Ottoway, true to his word, was not in attendance. Apparently, his support was not something Bermuda ever got to witness. The Committee were, as always, tightly wound, like coiled springs ready to burst forward.
The sneering senior chair, Montgomery Black, was his usual sanctimonious self, his large nose flopping from a dreary face that had been working alongside the Otherside for over half a century.
Bermuda Jones Casefiles Box Set Page 27
