The only thing that I left out was my telepathic conversation with Kohl. Even to me, that felt more like a dream than a reality. It wasn’t hard to picture the response of someone reading that. They’d instantly mark me down as being delusional and, as a result, the veracity of the rest of the document would be questioned. It would be a gift to someone like Marcus. To give him his due, he wouldn’t come right out and say it. He’d couch it differently: perhaps suggest that I’d been traumatised by my experiences. But the results would be the same. I’d be pushed to the side-lines and quietly forgotten.
I was the one who had brought the women to Scotland in the first place and I had been responsible for their welfare. Nastyia and Paula would have done their best to protect them but - in the end - they had been over-whelmed while I’d been sipping champagne up at the main house. Perhaps Marcus was right: perhaps I should just bow out gracefully and let the Dark Team take over.
But that didn’t feel like the right thing to do either. I still had an obligation to these women. I needed to help get them back.
By the time I had finished the report I had filled twelve sides of paper. I massaged my neck while I read over what I’d written, the muscles feeling unrelentingly stiff. Really, I needed to think about getting some rest but tactically I knew that if I could get the report into Kinsella’s hands as quickly as possible then that might help change his mind. He needed resolute people he could rely on and, despite the minor omissions, I knew that there was some pretty good intelligence embedded in those pages.
The house was just too vast to go wandering around trying to find him so I asked one of the staff members for help. He took me up to the second floor, leading me to an exquisitely lacquered mahogany door. The Chinese Suite. He indicated for me to stay where I was before knocking and entering. He reappeared a few seconds later and motioned for me to follow.
The room was wonderfully cosy, with a blazing fire and wood panelling along the walls which matched the look of the door. The room was decorated in a sumptuous racing green. The walls decorated with glass panels which were covered with traditional scenes from rural China. Over to one side was a fully stocked bar. Kinsella was sitting in a high backed leather arm chair. He was staring at his laptop whilst nursing a glass of whisky.
I handed him the report. He looked at it briefly before dropping it to the floor. He motioned with his foot towards the coffee table
“Are these any good to you?”
There was an un-opened packet of cigarettes lying there. I helped myself to one, lighting it with a taper from the fire. I inhaled slowly, savouring the taste. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d smoked a cigarette indoors. It felt like an incredibly decadent thing to do.
“We’ve found the two helicopters. They’ve been abandoned in a National Park about sixty miles away. We’ve managed to get a Skryer on-site but nothing so far.”
“Any idea where they might have gone?”
“Nothing so far. I think our best chance is in reviewing some of the evidence from last night. Things didn’t go as planned so he wouldn’t have had the opportunity to completely cover his tracks. It’s just a pity that we don’t have any survivors to question.”
He sat up straight in his chair, re-arranging his laptop.
“Valeria said that they killed all the hostiles.”
Kinsella pursed his lips, “You know what these lycans are like. Won’t tolerate anyone coming onto their property. I had a devil of a time convincing Lady Laing to let us come up and assist.”
“And what about Silas?” I asked pointedly. “Have you seen him?”
“I haven’t seen him but I’ve received certain assurances.”
“But he’s alright, isn’t he?”
“Like I said: I haven’t seen him.”
“I don’t suppose there’s any chance … Any chance that I …”
Kinsella put his drink down and closed his laptop.
“Her ladyship is co-operating at present and I’d like to keep it that way. After everything that’s happened you’re not exactly flavour-of-the-month in the Laing household.”
I blew a long sigh out through my lips. “Can’t say that I blame her, to be honest.”
Too much had gone on the previous night. It would take a while for everyone to re-group and work out where their loyalties lay. But the over-riding priority was to get the Novices back. All of them.
“What about the demon?” I said. “What happened to that?”
“I think someone shot it. It’s dead, anyway.”
“Were there no clues there?”
“Dominic’s dragged it off hoping to study it’s physiology but it’s already starting to degrade so I’m not holding out much hope.” Kinsella placed his laptop on a heavy oak side-board.
“But how long can a demon survive once it’s been summoned?”
Kinsella moved across to the drinks table and selected a glass. “For a minor demon like that? I’d say: four to six hours.”
“If that’s a minor demon, I wouldn’t like to see a major one.”
“You’re right about that,” Kinsella poured himself a Scotch.
“That sounded rather heartfelt.”
“Kohl’s been at this for some time. Devoted himself to it, it seems. There’s no telling what he might summon up next.”
I shivered at the thought of it. “You think he plans to do that? Summon one of the major demons.”
“It’s not something he’d do lightly. A major demon would demand a major sacrifice.”
“Alright, you’re scaring me now. How do you know so much about it?”
He licked his lips. “I’m the head of The Bear Garden. It’s my job to know.”
*
I went back up to my room and lay on the bed in the dark but sleep refused to come. Everything was going wrong and there appeared to be precious little that I could do about it. The bed was just too big and I longed to be at home in my own little flat. Everything about the house seemed suffocating.
Sitting up, I pulled at my neck brace in the hope that I could draw it over my head but it refused to give and all I managed to do was strain my neck further. Instead of the Velcro straps I’d been expecting there were two hefty buckles under the collar and I stumbled about the room as I tried to pull them off. Once I’d done so I threw the thing across the room. I went over and opened the curtains and startled myself with my own reflection. My face and neck were silvery pale and I swayed from side to side in order to check that it really was me.
While I was doing this I caught sight of a figure moving across the yard. I pressed my face to the glass, shielding my eyes from the moonlight. The figure strode across the cobbles and disappeared through a side gate heading in the direction of the stables.
I had seen too little to be able to say who it was with any assurance but I was left with the impression that I had just seen Lady Antonia leaving the house. There wasn’t a clock in the room but it was a long-time after midnight and I wondered where she could be going at such a late hour. Without stopping to question myself I quickly put on my shoes and hurried out the door and down the stairs.
I was breathing heavily when I came out onto the cobbles. Whilst I had been too warm up in my room, even with the fire dying down, I was not prepared for the raw chill of the air outside. I didn’t even have a coat. The cobbles were slippery underfoot as I headed towards the gateway. The stables over on my left were locked for the night and to my right an abandoned generator was dwarfed by a pile of pallets. There was no sign of anyone about.
Ahead of me was a long brick wall with a gateway at the halfway along. I went over to it and looked through to the other side. The figure was forty metres ahead of me now and I paused, expecting it to turn into the sunken gardens but then it headed off in the direction of a group of buildings. I went through the gate and followed on behind, watching the figure circumvent a couple of low sheds before making towards a great, brooding shadow of a building. It had a bright spot-light high up on one
wall and the cloud of steam which drifted in front of it helped to obscure the front entrance. The figure advanced, disappearing into the fog.
It was another minute before I reached the same spot and stood there wondering what to do next. The mist was coming from a brick-built pump house over to my right - so far so mundane – but I had no idea what the house contained. It was of modern design, the sort of place where a site-supervisor might live, until you stepped to one side and saw how far back it went.
Squinting against the brightness of the light, I stepped forward and was confronted by a small vestibule entrance. The glass door was mounted on a spring and opened easily. I found myself in a tiny entrance hall with a list of fixtures posted on one side and a series of commemorative plaques on the other. It was bright enough inside to make out some of the names and dates. The name A. Laing appeared with an embarrassing regularity but further along there were also two listings for an S. Laing.
Cricket captains? But then where were the names of the winning teams?
Other than a row of lockers there appeared to be little else to explore on the ground floor so I moved out into a dark, cramped stairwell. Someone could have been sitting on the second flight of stairs and I wouldn’t have seen them until I was on top of them. I wavered then, I was intruding. I really ought to be getting back to bed. Because if Lady Antonia was angry before, I hesitated to think how she’d react upon discovering that I’d been following her.
But I couldn’t go back. It was only as I climbed the stairs that I realised what the building was.
A squash court. It was the smell of rubber that gave it away.
At the top of the stairs was an observation landing. There was no sign of anyone else and I stood at the top pondering the court’s yawning gloom. The sound of a door being opened somewhere in the building made me start. Then I had it. There wasn’t just the one court: there had to be a second one through an adjoining door.
Precious little light made it this far into the building and, as I stepped through the door, I was swallowed by the vivid black shadows. I surmised that from what I’d glimpsed outside that the dimensions of the two courts had to be virtually identical. That meant that it was likely that there was a second staircase on the far side.
I muttered the words of the Shepherd’s Charm and a creature very much like a mayfly buzzed around my head emitting a soft green light.
I moved more confidently now, keen to finally catch up with whoever it was I was trailing. The glow of the may-fly reflected in the glass of the far stairwell so that I had to strain to see what lay beyond. There was a drinks machine at the bottom of the steps and the corner of a seating block. Beyond that was the glass frontage of a third court.
The door squealed as it opened and I winced.
There was someone standing at the foot of the stairs.
“Don’t touch the light,” it was Lady Antonia dressed in a pair of dark slacks and a roll-neck sweater, a glint of pearls at her neck. “We don’t want to startle him.”
She watched me descend the stairs, a tall, regal figure with wide, angular shoulders. She had a broad handsome face and an impressive head of dark hair threaded with grey.
We went and stood in front of the court’s three glass panels. The interior lost in darkness.
“That glass,” I said. “Is that going to be thick enough?”
“I think we’re about to find out.”
I took a step closer. The place was cold and dank and smelled of bleach. I peered fearfully into the gloom but, no matter how close I got to the glass, all I could see was shadows.
“I can’t see anything,” I said.
“Don’t worry, he’s in there.”
I was looking up at the ceiling when something struck the side panel with such force that the whole building shook. I took two steps back, trying to make sense of what I was seeing. A vague impression of gritty dust remained where the glass had been hit. Then another impact as the far left panel was tested.
“Should we go?” I said.
“You need to see him.”
“Not like this.”
Lady Antonia took out her purse and started searching through it.
“What are you doing?”
“Looking for a token. Ah, here we are.”
A white panelled box was attached to the wall opposite the vending machine. She pressed the token into a slot and waited.
The lights inside the squash court blinked on, the brightness forcing me to cover my eyes.
Silas had given up attacking the glass and was crouched now in the far corner, his back to us. His fur quivered with every breath. He looked much bigger than I remembered him but perhaps that was just the contrast between his dark fur and the bright white surroundings.
Words turned to dust in my mouth. If I could have, I’d have turned out the lights then and there but, if I had any sense of how these things worked, I imagined that we’d have to put up with another half hour of raw illumination. I sensed Lady Antonia looking at me, attempting to gauge my reaction. I was trying to keep my features as neutral as possible but it was difficult. I found it almost impossible to look at Silas’ hunched form, as if his mere presence threatened me. I’d thought at first that he was cowering away from the light but, on closer study, I realised that he was holding something. A giant toy rabbit with long ears was clutched between his paws. Silas handled it, lightly, almost apologetically, as if only too aware of how quickly his claws could shred its fabric.
I was starting to overcome my initial shock when his great head turned toward me. He surveyed us with both such gravity that I was certain that, if he had been able, he would have killed us both in an instant. I stood stock still, transfixed by his gaze. I don’t know what it was that I had expected: some sense of acknowledgement, some hint of recognition that, deep down, he knew who I was. But there was nothing there. Just cold indifference.
There was a real sense of despair about him as if any allure connected to his present state had all been part of some grand illusion. Here, he was exposed in all his terrible grandeur.
He surveyed us for what seemed like an age before turning back to his toy.
I broke down then as the truth of the situation overwhelmed me.
Lady Antonia was there almost immediately taking a firm hold, forcing me to stay upright.
“He’s gone,” I said. “Silas is gone.”
“That is Silas,” she sounded bitter. “Always has been.”
“But he doesn’t recognise me. Doesn’t recognise you.”
“Then we have to make him. You forget that I’ve lived with a werewolf these past thirty years. The animal part of their nature is always there – just beneath the surface. Only once during our marriage did I forget that, and I paid the price.”
“I didn’t know. Were you badly hurt?”
Her hand went to her stomach, smoothed the fabric.
“Let’s just say I’ll never wear a bikini again.”
She stood close to me now, her violet lips curling at the memory.
I rubbed away the tears on my face and forced myself to return her gaze. “It’s been nearly twenty four hours since he changed. Too long. What should we do?”
“For a start, you need to sit down.”
I allowed her to lead me over to the tiered seats.
“I don’t pretend to be an expert on what to do next,” she said. “So I’ve convened a gathering of the pack for tomorrow night.”
The same pack that had dealt so harshly with Kohl’s men.
“Weren’t they just here?”
“That was a social gathering. This will be quite different: no women allowed.”
“But I need to be there. For Silas’ sake.”
She shook her head. “Not possible. You’ve seen what they’re like once they change. As it is, I’m going to have to keep myself barricaded in my room. There is no appealing to the pack’s better nature. As far as Silas is concerned, they will do whatever it is that needs to be done.”
She had her hands on her hips, turning back and forth, the lines around her mouth pulled taut.
“I don’t know what else to do.”
“We could meet with them beforehand…”
But she cut me off. “There is no ‘we’ about it. When the pack is here I am barely tolerated myself. To introduce a new female scent at this stage would be asking for trouble.”
“I’m not leaving.”
She looked wistfully across at Silas. “I’m on my own here now. I can no longer guarantee your safety. There’s nothing else for it: you’ll have to leave.”
“I’ll be fine.”
“You’re mistaking my home for some kind of guest house. I’ve already spoken with Mr. Kinsella and he’s arranged for you to be taken elsewhere.”
We’d see about that.
CHAPTER NINETEEN
I was woken the next morning by a member of the household staff who informed me that it was nearly eight o’clock. Kinsella’s briefing was at eight thirty.
Waking so late, I realised that I had to choose between breakfast or a shower. I chose the shower which helped to bring me more fully awake. A fresh change of clothes had been left out for me and I dressed quickly, ignoring the pain in my neck which, if anything, had gotten worse. It was reasonably easy to get my jeans on with the cast but the blouse proved more of a challenge and I was still fastening buttons as I headed for the stairs.
The smell of bacon was hard to ignore and I chided myself for having slept-in so late. I just wished that I’d had a more restful night’s sleep. My dreams had been disturbed by the thought of being lost in some vast house as I searched for Carlotta. I could hear her voice somewhere up ahead but there was never any sign of her in the rooms I explored. It was a deeply frustrating experience.
Bitter Moon: Urban Witch Series - Book 2 Page 24
