—love you love you love you love you—
I go to the couch and shake Max’s shoulder. “Rise and shine, woofie. We’re going bull hunting with our girl.”
Max opens an eye. “Sparkles?”
“Do you have any other girls we should know about?”
“Don’t be a wanker, as our little English princess would say,” he groans, sitting up and stretching. “Give me two minutes to piss.”
“The door won’t unlock until sunrise, so we’ve fifteen. I’ll go wake Cos.”
“What about Wes?”
Wes.
He’d crashed out as soon as he and Cosmo got in. Cos had managed to stay awake long enough to give us the run down on what had happened. Including the info that there was basically an evil Conclave lair underneath the building site.
And that Wes was under our mother’s spell and not to be trusted.
“No, not Wes. After what Cosmo told us…”
“That he’ll probably report everything back to the Conclave? Yeah. Agreed. Let the fucker sleep. Ooh, I know. We can leave him a note saying we are off Fateball training!”
That’s actually a good idea. Nice one, Maximus.
I scribble down some words on a Post-it while Max wakes Cos then heads intomybathroom.
Why is it always my bathroom? Wes and Cosmo have porcelain to offer too, but no, the hound insists on stinking up mine.
Shaking my head, I go and switch on the coffee machine.
A few minutes later, Cosmo comes out of his room, looking like he’s off for a winter walk in the Hamptons rather down Defectivum’s tunnels.
Navy pants, one of those sweaters that look like fishermen wear, a tiny beanie on the back of his head and some designer leather boots.
“What do you call that look?” Max asks as Cos wraps a soft scarf around his neck. “GQ Moby Dick?”
Close but no cigar, Max. “Nah, it’s giving Christmas Hallmark movie. Like you’re burnt out from working in the city, so go back to your small hometown, then fall in love with the girl who runsthe bakery, but first you are going out to the woods to chop down the perfect pine tree.”
Cosmo pauses, one hand fixing his wooly hat, and gives me a frosty look—which is in keeping with the theme I’m painting.
“You are both Neanderthals,” he mutters, taking out his phone. “Feel free to continue spouting nonsense. In the meantime, I’ll get Striker to hack the school CCTV from yesterday. Look for Ludo on that.”
“Oh, yeah, great idea. Why didn’t you think of it yesterday?”
“Because, you fuck head, I was a little taken up with being at a Conclave ascension ceremony. And isn’t it possible you could have thought of the CCTV yourself?”
Touche, as they say.
But truthfully, it’s always the others who come up with the best plans. I hate being the idiot of the group.
“Don’t bother with your P.I.” Max tells Cosmo, whipping a laptop off the coffee table. “I’ve got it.”
I watch as he flicks through various screens then brings up the video feed from outside Defectivum. It’s a million miles beyond my comprehension.
Idiot. Like I said.
Max scrolls and clicks for a minute, then looks up with a shit-eating grin. “Voila! Yesterday at 1:22pm.”
