Page 27 of Fortune's Ashes
Bloody hell. How was I supposed to answer that? ‘Not officially, no.’ For Barnes’s sake, I added, ‘I don’t mind if you wait. But don’t do anything. Just … wait.’
Lukas bared his fangs. ‘I’ve already proved that I can be very patient.’
‘I can have him removed,’ Barnes said. ‘I don’t care who he is, I can make sure he doesn’t bother you again.’
‘Leave him be.’
‘Emma…’
I was going to have to be more specific. I cleared my throat. ‘I want him here.’
Barnes nodded reluctantly while Lukas’s eyes gleamed with sudden satisfaction. All I could do was run my hands through my hair and sigh. This was a bloody mess. And Alan Cobain was still dead – at least for now.
* * *
I’d never beenon this side of the interview desk before. Other than my awkward lie to Barnes I’d done nothing wrong, but my palms still felt sweaty and there was a discomfiting twist to my stomach. I hoped I wasn’t going to start throwing up again.
I nudged Jon Barber, the human duty solicitor who’d been assigned to me. ‘I’m going to need some water,’ I said.
He nodded, stood up and knocked on the door until somebody answered. ‘Can we get a jug of water in here? And two cups?’ He waited until they were passed through then sat down and poured me some.
I took several small sips while he waited. My stomach didn’t settle, however, so I swallowed hard and kept a hold of the plastic cup. ‘I might vomit any minute now,’ I told him. ‘It’s been known to happen lately.’
Barber didn’t miss a beat. ‘Are you ill?’ he asked. ‘Have you taken any drugs?’
‘I’m pregnant.’ I met his eyes. ‘But I’d prefer it if you kept that to yourself.’
‘I’m your solicitor, DC Bellamy. You know how this works. I won’t tell anyone – though it might be wise of you to inform the lead investigator.’
I shook my head. ‘No. Not unless I have to.’
‘Very well.’ He linked his hands together. Barber projected a calm and reassuring exterior. If circumstances had been different, I might have requested Phileas to be by my side but, as that wasn’t possible, I was happy enough with Jon Barber for now. Even if his human ethnicity might cause some problems when he found out the truth.
‘DSI Barnes questioned me briefly at the scene,’ I told him.
‘You should have waited before answering any questions.’
Yeah. Hindsight was great. ‘I lied to her.’
Barber winced slightly.
‘It’s going to come out that I wasn’t telling the truth,’ I continued.
‘Go on.’
‘I told her that I received an anonymous phone call that tipped me off about the risk to Alan Cobain’s life. That wasn’t true. A few weeks ago, I inadvertently gained a new supernatural power. I’ve started to receive prophetic visions of the future – I’m what’s known as a Cassandra. I had a vision that Alan Cobain was going to burn alive.’
Barber stared at me. With shaking hands, he reached for his own glass. This was why a supe solicitor might have been better. ‘Ah,’ he said. He managed to take a drink without spilling any water. When he finally returned the glass to the table, he eyed me. ‘Why didn’t you tell her this?’
‘It’s not something I want to broadcast.’ I leaned forward. ‘I have no control over the visions. When they come, they’re not always easy to interpret. Plus, I don’t know if I can alter what I see or if it’s already set in stone.’
I took a deep breath. ‘I’m a police detective and this a supernatural power that not even supes understand. If it becomes generally known, it will affect my entire career. I’ll never receive credit for any work that I do in stopping crimes because people will think I did it through magic and not hard graft. And if I don’t manage to stop crimes, they’ll think that I’m keeping the visions to myself for my own reasons.’
My mouth twisted. ‘There’s also every chance that some bigwig in the Met Police or in the government will decide that the best way to use my new power is to lock me permanently in a room and wait for my visions to come, regardless of what prophecies they might involve.’
Barber took a moment before answering. I decided I liked him for that; he wasn’t leaping to easy conclusions. ‘Most people,’ he said carefully, ‘would think that a detective who can see the future is a good thing. Your visions might not prevent any crimes from occurring – but equally they might do.’
‘Uh-huh.’ I nodded. Then I told him what had happened earlier that day on Baker Street.
