Page 35 of The Dark Hiss of Magic
I shrugged. ‘Sucks to be you, Cat Boy.’
He jabbed my arm. ‘Watch it, Cat Lady.’
I gave him what I thought was an impressive feline hiss and he laughed. We lapsed into a comfortable silence. That was what I liked about him – one of the many things I liked about him: he didn’t feel the pressing need to fill every quiet pause with unnecessary words. It was a surprisingly unusual trait.
We reached Glade Cross within fifteen minutes. It was a narrow street with tightly packed stone buildings on both sides of the road. No gardens were visible – and there certainly weren’t any glades – but there was a stone Celtic cross laid into the cobbles that doubtless held some significance.
Pleasingly, many of the houses had potted plants and hanging baskets outside laden with a sprinkling of minor magic to keep the flowers blooming all year. I laid a bet with myself that number thirty-two would be flower free. Nothing that I knew about Knox Thunderstick suggested that he was the type of person who cared for floral arrangements, but when we reached his house I was surprised to see that it boasted the most elaborate baskets of all.
Even with magic it was unusual to see so many delicate and colourful blooms in January. I bent to admire a potted arrangement by his doorstep: spiky dahlias, tiny golden buttercups and ostentatious orchids had been deftly planted. They weren’t flowers that I’d expect to look good together but somehow this gardener had managed it.
‘Beautiful, right?’
We turned to see a troll standing by the front door of the house opposite with his keys in his hand. ‘They really are,’ Thane said.
‘He’s not a hedge witch,’ the troll said. ‘He’s a druid. And,’ he lowered his voice as if he didn’t want to be overheard, ‘adrummer.’ The troll liked flowers but he clearly wasn’t much of a music fan.
‘Knox Thunderstick created this?’ I asked. I knew I was allowing my prejudices to get in the way but I couldn’t help it. The man who’d impersonated a pathologist in a mortuary and caused his foster sister so much upset still didn’t seem likely to possess a gentle gardener’s touch.
‘Oh yes.’ The troll swept out his arm. ‘He’s done the whole street. Knox is amazing.’
And that, Kit, I told myself, is why you shouldn’t pre-judge people.
‘Have you seen him today?’ Thane asked. ‘Is he home?’
As the troll frowned, the heavy folds of skin across his forehead bunched up. ‘Wednesday, innit? He always plays at Pork Pies on Wednesdays.’
Thane and I exchanged glances. ‘Thanks,’ I said.
The troll raised a hand, put the key in his lock, turned it and stepped into his home. ‘You’re welcome.’ He closed the door.
I squinted through Knox’s windows. It was dark inside so I couldn’t make out much beyond the shapes and shadows of a few sticks of furniture. When Thane knocked on the door, the sound was sharp and loud. If anyone was inside, they would definitely have heard it.
We waited a few beats then Thane raised his hand to knock again. Before his fist made contact with the wood, however, there was a sharp retort from inside.
‘Was that?—?’
My mouth flattened. ‘A gunshot? Yes.’
Chapter
Thirteen
The time for pussyfooting around was over. Thane rattled the doorknob as he tried to gain access to the house the easy way. When it became clear that the door was locked, I stepped to the window. These old buildings were doubtless under a conservation order, so the windows were single glazed: bad for insulation; good for me.
I angled my elbow and smashed it forward, aiming for the corner of the pane where the glass would be weakest. The trick was to be fast and to fight the urge to pull back at the last second – or at least that was what I’d been told during my training at EEL. But I’d never approached a job where I didn’t have an alternative entry point or a glass-breaking tool if I needed it, and I hadn’t undertaken any contract without knowing exactly what I was walking into. Those were the days.
Pain juddered through my arm making me clench my teeth hard, but it was worth it. The glass had cracked and there was now a spider’s web of delicate fissures across the pane. Thane nudged me gently aside while I rubbed my elbow, raised his leg and booted the cracks hard enough for splinters of glass to fallinside the room. He kicked away the remaining shards and hopped into Knox’s house.
I followed hot on his heels, pausing only long enough to pick up one of the longer glass shards and hand it to him. He grunted his thanks while I reached around and plucked out the curved dagger that I’d strapped to my back before leaving home that morning. I might not have prepared to the point where I carried all the tools of my old trade, but I wasn’t completely witless.
Glass crunched beneath our feet as we moved quickly through the room and into the hallway. Thane turned left towards the stairs that led up to the next floor; I went right, checked inside a large cupboard, then stormed into the kitchen with my trusty knife held high.
Nobody was there. The place was immaculate, with neatly labelled jars and a row of perfectly aligned cookbooks. Yet again, I was forced to rethink the image of Knox Thunderstick I’d been holding in my head.
There was no back door and the windows were secure. A narrow alleyway lay outside but there was no direct access to it from the house, which was clearly a traditional two-up and two-down affair. I nodded grimly. Less space to cover. That was good.
Hearing heavy thumps from overhead, I spun on my heel and darted after Thane. I took the stairs two at a time until I joined him on the first-floor landing where he was shoving his shoulder against a closed door. The second door was open, revealing an empty bathroom.
