Page 28 of Waifs And Strays
He shook himself into focus. ‘Uh … the man I heard you asking about.’
My eyes widened. ‘Yes?’
‘He’s a werewolf.’
I nodded warily. ‘I know.’
The boy shrugged awkwardly. ‘He’s been sleeping in the old Galbraith building, in a room on the third floor.’
My mouth dropped open and I stared at the boy while his mother filled in the blanks. ‘Adrian sneaks in there from time to time, even though he knows he’s not supposed to. He knows it’s haunted.’
It wasn’t, but that wasn’t important right now. ‘You’ve seen him in there?’
The boy nodded. ‘He gave me some chocolate and told me to stay away for a few days.’
I sucked in a breath then returned my gaze to his mother. ‘That information is worth far more than a few talismans.’
‘In that case,’ she said, ‘I’m glad we could help.’
Chapter
Twelve
The Galbraith building was less than ten minutes’ walk from my house. It was one of the few unoccupied properties in Danksville; this might be a poor area but it was jammed full of inhabitants. That the Galbraith house remained free of residents – even squatters – was testament to the strength of the rumours about unhappy ghosts roaming its hallways.
My curiosity had led me to investigate it soon after I’d moved into the area but I’d found nothing of note, nothing to worry about: it was just an old building teetering on the verge of rack and ruin. Nobody knew who Galbraith had been and nobody knew who owned the building now. I’d tried to find out but my investigations had come up short; I’d eventually decided that the place was a mystery, and a boring mystery at that.
The windows at the front were boarded up and, as I knew from my previous visit, impossible to see through. Not even a chink of light seeped through the old plywood so at least I didn’t have to worry about Ginger Shane seeing me approach. It would go better for me if I could catch him unawares.
Unlike my own less grand but better kept home, there was no front garden so I walked up to the front door from the street. Although the windows were boarded up, bizarrely the door hadn’t received the same treatment. All I had to do was duck under a few nailed planks and push it open. No wonder kids broke in here.
In its heyday, the interior must have been glorious but now it was gloomy and full of rubbish. There wasn’t a pervasive reek of damp, however; at most, the house smelled a bit fusty.
I paused in the entrance hall, sniffing the air and listening hard, unsure whether the mysterious Ginger Shane was there or not. I had to act as if he were and take my time. Entering a large building in pursuit of a target used to be my bread and butter so I was neither scared nor nervous – but I was determined.
Although I had believed Adrian, I wasn’t willing to risk everything on his information that Shane was holed up on the third floor so I checked out the ground-floor rooms first. Next I climbed the stairs to the first floor and did the same. By the time I reached the second floor, I suspected Adrian had been correct; my suspicions were confirmed when I climbed the last flight of stairs and the faint scent of vetiver floated towards me.
I didn’t know where the noisiest floorboards were but I knew how to tread lightly, even without shapeshifting into cat form. I slipped off my shoes and moved towards the wall where there would be less chance of loud creaks and pushed my weight onto my rear foot first so that I could judge each step before I committed to it. I was pleased when I reached the third floor without making a sound. I’d not lost all of my skills in the last four years.
Until that point the house had been dark but on the final landing there was a glimmer of sunlight sneaking from a chink in one of the closed doors on the right-hand side. Ah-ha: gotcha, you sneaky bastard.
I started to move forward, lifted one foot and twisted towards the door, then froze abruptly appalled at my lack of due diligence.Kit. You absolute dick.I pulled back before crouching down to examine the booby trap that I’d almost tripped: the red-haired wanker was smarter than I’d given him credit for. No wonder he’d bribed Adrian with chocolate to keep him away.
It was a simple trap but the most effective ones usually are. An almost invisible line of thread crossed the hallway at knee height and I’d been within a whisker of colliding with it. I followed the thread with my eyes until I spotted the thumb-sized bag of magical herbs concealed in a gap in the skirting board.
Lowering myself until my nose was almost touching it, I took a long sniff. Passiflora incarnata with a good sprinkling of salt and power thrown in. It wasn’t as expensive as a forget-me-not spell, but it wasn’t cheap either. It wouldn’t have killed me but if I’d tripped the thread I’d have been comatose for the next three hours and had a hell of a hangover afterwards.
Grimacing, I straightened up and stepped carefully over the thread. I needed to be more careful.
I side-stepped along the wall, wary of creaky floorboards and further booby traps. When I reached the closed door, I paused and listened for sounds of life. For several moments all I heard was the gentle thudding of my own heart.
He might still be out, or taking a nap. There might be another trap shielding the doorway. There was only one way to find out.
I carefully slid my favourite dagger from its sheath. It was far too long since it had seen any action. I gripped its handle, held my breath and kicked in the door before leaping back.
Nothing happened: no trap was triggered and no irateginger werewolf rushed me. The room was empty – at least of people.
I waited for several beats in case the bastard was hiding somewhere else in the building and was on his way to fend me off, but there was no movement and no sounds. He wasn’t home.
