Page 36 of A Skirl of Sorcery
Her whiskers quivered in delight.
‘The front door?’ I asked. ‘Is there a pressure pad there?’
Tiddles didn’t answer but I knew Thane: there would be some sort of trap there even if there was no tripwire. ‘You know it pays to be prudent when the situation calls for it, Tiddles,’ I said. ‘I’m not ashamed of being cautious.’
The ginger cat blinked and sauntered off once more. ‘You could give me a modicum of respect!’ I called after her.
She didn’t react and I rolled my eyes. Cats. Honestly.
I half turned – and that was when my flash of humour dissipated. There were more spots of dried blood, a whole collection of them between the long black sofa and the glass-topped coffee table. Thane had always been careless with his own blood but this was ridiculous. And where the hell was he?
There was nothing interesting in the glossy, open-plan kitchen other than a very expensive brand of cat food that Thane had left on the counter. He was clearly spoiling Tiddles rotten. I swivelled away and followed her towards the bedroom.
From the moment I’d opened Thane’s front door I’d been certain he wasn’t home, but I was still disappointed when I confirmed that his bed was empty and he wasn’t hiding in the bathroom or taking a shower. He’d made me give my word that I’d be here and I tried not to allow myself to feel hurt. There was bound to be a rational explanation.
Tiddles miaowed plaintively; she wasn’t any happier about this situation than I was.
‘He would have been hungry after last night,’ I said. ‘He might have gone out for food.’ I marched to the kitchen and pulled open the fridge door. It was stocked full: steak,mushrooms, bacon, orange juice. Hell – there was enough food to feed an army.
‘He’s not gone out for food, then.’ I pursed my lips. ‘Maybe he went out to run an errand.’
Tiddles slunk out of the bedroom and miaowed again.
‘Yes,’ I said, ‘Ididpromise that I’d come round this morning and he should have been here waiting for us. And, yes, I know that’s his blood on the stairs and on the carpet, though there’s not a lot of it. His wounds last night weren’t life-threatening – a first-aid kit would have taken care of them.’
Tiddles’ tail swished from side to side then she jumped onto the coffee table and started pawing through some papers. She raised her head and looked at me pointedly. When I didn’t move, she pawed at the papers again and hissed.
I threw up my hands. ‘Alright. Jeez. But when Thane is pissed off because I’ve been snooping through his private things, I’ll blame you.’ My threat didn’t appear to faze her in the slightest.
I picked up the loose sheets and my breath caught when I realised what was on them,. There were several charcoal drawings and their quality was extraordinary. But it wasn’t his skill that had given me pause, it was his subject matter.
Me.
There was one of me curled up in a chair with all five of my gorgeous cats around me, and one of me clutching a dagger and staring fiercely. There was one of me laughing, and one of me with my hand raised to a loose purple curl in a gesture I knew far too well. Each one was sketched not simply with exquisite realism but with a tenderness that made a lump rise in my throat. These pictures had been created with feeling, and that realisation played havoc with my normally tamped-down emotions.
‘The different versions of Kit McCafferty,’ I whispered. ‘As seen through the eyes of Thane Barrow.’
Tiddles, still on the coffee table, huffed in impatience. ‘What?’ I asked. ‘You wanted me to see these.’ She huffed again.
I flicked through the last few drawings. Me. Me. Me. And… I stared at the last one. It was of a wolf, though it wasn’t a self-portrait; this particular drawing was of a werewolf I’d seen only last night. Even rendered in charcoal, I recognised those narrowed eyes that reflected youthful malevolence. Thane had drawn a picture of Silver.
I noted the signature and the date in the lower corner: Thane had created this drawing two weeks ago. But why this wolf? I stared at it uncomprehendingly.
‘What’s going on, Tiddles?’
She only blinked at me in response – but I couldn’t deny the uneasiness that was uncurling in my belly.
Chapter
Sixteen
Iscribbled a note for Thane and left it on the coffee table beside the drawings. I reminded myself that I trusted him; there would be a good reason as to why he wasn’t waiting here for me. That knowledge was far more worrying than reassuring, but I was limited as to what I could do. This was Coldstream. Because mobile phones rarely worked, I couldn’t simply drop him a text message or call him.
Perhaps it would have been easier if I were a werewolf, but as a cat sith I didn’t possess amazing tracking skills. I could buy a tracking potion, but I’d have to commission a witch to brew it for me and that could take hours, so that would be my last resort.
Thane was a big boy: he could look after himself and, until I heard otherwise, I’d have to assume he was alright. Keres, however, was definitely dying and her problems were my priority. Even so, I wiped away all Thane’s damned blood from that staircase as I left. He could thank me later.
When we exited the swanky building I pretended not to see the concierge frown in my direction. Tiddles immediately turned left and pattered with feline determination along the narrow pavement. ‘No,’ I muttered as I caught up to her, scooped her up and returned her to my shoulder. ‘We’re going to Danksville.’
