“God,” Una says. “What’s the point in having a Raven Hand for a friend if you won’t spill the beans.”
“There’s nothing to spill. I don’t know what happened in that house.” Putting my glass down, I rise from my seat, Una’s eyes following me. “Just going to the toilet.”
We’d chosen a small bar on the fringe of the city centre, knowing it would be quiet and we might get some privacy to discuss the day’s events. The bathrooms are up a small flight of stairs, which I climb, my limbs feeling heavy, like I’m scaling a sand dune. I head to the cubicle in the far corner and relieve myself quickly, glad of the peace.
I wash my hands at the row of porcelain sinks, the square units chic and modern, the chrome taps polished to a mirror sheen. Glancing at my reflection, I gasp as I see Ed standing behind me with Annabel next to him.
My breath catches in my throat. “Jeez, you scared me,” I whisper.
Holding on to the side of the sink, I stare back at the pair, trying to read the situation. It’s a strange place for him to visit me, but I don’t have time to wonder what he’s doing here before Ed reaches out his hand and places it on my shoulder, and a ringing fills my ears.
I’m about to ask him what’s going on when the mirror clouds, and Ed, Annabel, and I disappear.
What I see next is not what I expect.
CHAPTER FIFTY-THREE
Adolphe Fortunato sits uprightin a shiny leather chair, bushy eyebrows resting above beady eyes, his skeletal fingers entwined, elbows resting on the dark mahogany desk. Although I’ve never seen the interior of Fortunato’s extensive mansion, for some reason, I just know this is his home, his study, his man cave where many a meeting has gone down alongside other, darker dealings.
He’s talking to a man sitting on the other side of the desk, who I know from his dark skin tone, large amber eyes, and stony expression to be Dr Tem-Pest.
Fortunato looks unamused, bored, even, by his companion; his thin lips are tightly closed, his gaze fixed on his hands until his eyes sharpen, and he glances to his left.
It feels like something has entered the room, crept in uninvited, and spread itself thinly down the walls and over the surfaces.
As if someone has turned the volume down, Dr Tem-Pest’s voice quiets as the ringing grows louder before becoming more distinct—a beat, a rhythm, a vibration that thuds through my body.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
Removing his finger from his ear, Fortunato’s eyes skim the room. He hears it too.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
Seemingly unaware of what has caught Fortunato’s interest, Dr Tem-Pest keeps talking, his voice now a low hum in the background.
“The purchase of theGazettecould be good timing, don’t you think?” Dr Tem-Pest asks.
Fortunato holds up a pale hand. “Shut up,” he snaps, his eyes still roaming until he levers his wiry body out of his seat and starts to pace, scanning the large bookcase behind his desk. “Do you hear that?”
“Hear what?” Dr Tem-Pest says slowly.
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
“That noise. It’s a low, dull, quick sound.”
“No. Are you having any building work done?”
“No.” Fortunato continues to inspect the shelves before returning to his desk, picking up the phone, and dialling a short number. “Mary, what is that god-awful noise?”
I don’t hear her reply.
“What do you mean, you can’t hear it? It’s so loud. It’s a thumping noise, sounds like it’s bouncing off the walls. You sure you haven’t got any workmen in today or any on the grounds?”
Der-dun. Der-dun. Der-dun.
He slams the receiver down and scratches his chin.
“You don’t hear it?” Fortunato asks.
