Fuck off, Brethren girl. I forced a smile. By the time they all left, my cheeks were going to be aching. “It was great. He is indeed an impressive man.”
“Isn’t he, though.” She sighed slightly and smoothed her hair self-consciously. “And he’s single.”
So sodding what? “Maybe you should ask him out on a date then.”
She giggled slightly. I was somewhat surprised that the apparently stoic and somber Brethren members were capable of giggling. “Oh no, I could never do that. Lord Corrigan likes to do the chasing himself.”
Screw Lord Corrigan. Which was actually probably what she wanted. I tried to smile at her again. “I have to go now.”
“Okay then,” she answered dreamily, no doubt imagining herself and Corrigan walking hand in hand down a deserted beach. I almost snarled again.
Julia was hovering around in the hall, looking over at me anxiously, so I flashed her a brilliant smile of fake reassurance before striding up to the dorms to change the dressing on my wound and get my backpack. Forget about Corrigan, I had clues to investigate and places to go and it was too late to change the fact that I’d stupidly snapped at him.
Once outside, I took a deep breath and filled my lungs. I figured I had a couple of hours before the rest of the interviews would be over. Plenty of time to see what I could find about tree markings and to look for black diamond stones. I’d bound my side and my ribs tightly with bandages and taken a few more painkillers so I was pretty sure that I’d be able to conduct my investigations without the pain getting to me. I briefly considered finding Tom and asking him to come with me – and quizzing to find out how his interview had gone - but I didn’t want to lose any valuable time and I was pretty certain that he wouldn’t take kindly to me patently hoping he screwed it up, so I shifted the backpack on my shoulder instead and walked out towards the beach and the scene of John’s death.
Despite my own ministrations, I didn’t want to risk delaying the healing process by opening the gashes up on my side further, so I refrained from jogging and instead walked casually away from the keep. At least if anyone spotted me I could use the excuse that I was just out for a casual afternoon stroll to clear my head.
The path was lightened by sunbeams, in stark and bitter contrast to when I’d taken this route last time. A few birds chirped here and there. I noted my own tracks from the previous night, as well as a few others that were heavier and no doubt belonged to the Brethren. And John had said that I was like an elephant…I guess that’s what living in the cement covered city did to your ability to tread lightly and leave little trace behind of your presence.
Scuffing over some of the more irritating trail marks as I went, I mulled over my interview with Corrigan, eventually deciding that he was just trying to get under my skin. If he’d really smelled anything human about me then he’d have squashed me like a bug without thinking twice about it. He had definitely just been fishing around. He probably tried to get a rise out of everyone he interviewed. I ignored the memory of the almost worshipful expression Johannes had had on his face after his interview. Anyway, Corrigan didn’t matter – finding John’s murderer did.
When I started to get closer to where John had died, I stopped focusing on the ground and started checking out the trees instead. I couldn’t see anything yet that suggested the markings that Corrigan and Staines had been talking about it. I felt tendrils of dread curl around the pit of my stomach with each step that I took. I really didn’t want to go there again. I wondered how much the pack had managed to clean up. Would there still be traces of his life blood there? Where it had seeped into the earth, taking the only real parent I’d ever known? I clenched my fists, nails curling into the palms of my hands. I couldn’t let my grief escape back out. I needed to be strong and steely if I was going to avenge his death.
I still couldn’t see anything on any of the trees. I circled a few of them, double checking, but there was nothing. What was I missing? By the time I reached the sandy spot where John had actually died, I felt myself flooded with frustration. Somehow the Brethren were seeing something I couldn’t. I walked slowly up to the spot where his body had lain. There were a few indentations on the grass and in the sand but the blood was gone. I knelt down for a second and softly touched the ground.
“I miss you, John,” I whispered softly. My words were whipped away by the wind. I blinked back a few tears and stood back up to look at the tree line behind me. That was when I noticed that the trees did indeed have markings on them. In a semi circle, facing the spot where he’d died, were one, two, three….seven trees together that had what looked like runes scoured into their bark. I felt some grim satisfaction at finding what I’d been looking for and strode over to the first one.
It was gouged deep into the flesh of the tree. Lifting my hand, I traced the outline of the rune, trying to work out what it was. These weren’t Fae runes: there was something sharper and much more sinister about them than the rune that I’d discovered on John’s paperweight. I pulled out my smartphone and snapped a photo of it. I still hadn’t made it to the library or to check the Othernet to dig up information on wichtleins. Now I had another reason to make sure that I did. I went round each tree, taking a photo of each rune as I went. That there were seven runes on seven trees definitely meant something. Seven was a magical number that contained a lot of power within it.
I moved to the beach so I could stand on the dune and get a picture of all of them together. It was a struggle getting the top of the sand with my injuries but I tensed my muscles and held my side and made it. I was about to take a photo again when something half-buried by the sand caught my eye. I crouched down and brushed away the sand. It was a ring of seven charred coals. All of a sudden several pieces started to click together and I hit the back of my hand against my forehead in exasperation. Of course. I cursed myself for being an idiot. Black diamond stones could easily refer to coal, and Nick had mentioned that someone had stolen a bag of coals from Perkins. And an electric screwdriver. I wondered for a minute whether the tree runes could have been made by a tool like that before realising that was ridiculous.
But at least now I knew where I had to go to next.
Chapter Nine
At this time of day, I knew I could expect to find Nick at the police station, probably filling out paperwork from that day’s dealings with the crime underworld of Trevathorn. However, it was past five and I also knew that Perkins would be closing soon. I debated whether to visit the hardware store, or Nick, first. Remembering the glint in Nick’s eyes when I saw him last, I decided that I would try the store first. Then I might be able to avoid talking to him altogether.
The village was busy at this time of day, with both locals and tourists bustling around. Most of them gave me a wide berth when they saw me striding towards them though. I guess my expression contained enough thunderous determination that they figured it was better to just get out of my way. It suited me fine. Tourists were irksome at the best of times, and I was not exactly in the mood for small talk with any of Trevathorn’s inhabitants. My bloodfire was glowing in the pit of my stomach as I was forced to consider the idea that John had been deliberately targeted. Perhaps the wichtlein pebble wasn’t so much a harbinger as a marker beacon, pointing him out to whichever big bad nasty had decided to chomp on him as a snack. The heat curled savagely around my lower intestines, threatening to take over at a moment’s notice. I ignored it. This was a time to focus, as John would have said.
By the time I reached Perkins, it was almost half past five and I could see the eponymous owner, Perkins himself, up at the glass door and flipping the little yellow sign from Open to Closed. Good. That meant I’d have peace and quiet to quiz him. I stepped up to the glass plate and rapped sharply. He gestured at the sign and his watch, shrugging expressively. I ignored this and rapped again.
He opened the door a couple of inches and poked his head out. “We’re shut.”
“I need to talk to you.”
“And I need to go home and see my wife and kids.” He tried shutting the door but I stuck my foot in the way.
“Please, Mr Perkins. It’s important.”
He sighed and appeared to consider the matter. It was not as if I was really going to give him the choice though. “Fine. But only for five minutes.” He opened the door and let me in, then locked it behind me.
Perkins stood in the entrance, hand on his hips, and waggled his eyebrows questioningly. He was a small man, human of course, with a bald patch and slightly greying hair. He wore a red apron that proclaimed the words ‘We’re proud to work at Perkins!’
I opened my palms out, in a gesture of non-confrontation. “Can we sit down? I’d like to ask you a few questions about the robbery a few days ago.”
He sighed expansively. “Why? Has the cult decided to become vigilantes now?”
At least he wasn’t accusing us of breaking and entering. “No, but I think there might have been other similar break-ins in the area and I want to help out.” I put on a pretty smile. “Please, Mr Perkins? I really do want to help.”
He looked at me assessingly but I could see that he’d already given in. “It’s probably more than the police are going to do, I suppose,” he grumbled. “Here, come this way.”
He took me into a little backroom where there was a small table and a couple of chairs. Along one side of the wall there was a sink, a little fridge and a kettle. “I suppose you’ll be wanting tea, too?”
“How about coffee?” I asked, pushing my luck.
“Fine,” he muttered, and set about getting two cups, flicking the switch on the kettle to on. Before too long, it was spitting steam so he poured the hot water onto a scoop of instant granules. I was a bit of a coffee purist and usually hated instant but I didn’t think any further comments regarding his choice of brew would be useful at this point. I declined milk and sugar and he passed me the cup, sitting down at the table with me.