Page 70 of A Skirl of Sorcery
‘Tea Rose. Garden Rose. Damask Rose.’
I stopped breathing.
‘I figured the guy was some kind of naturalist. A collector.’
Blood was roaring in my ears. This wasn’t right. The bone boxes were a dead end. I’d jumped to conclusions and…
‘Then I saw some of the other labels,’ Bin continued. ‘Wolf. Beta wolf. Alpha wolf. Leprechaun. Harpy.’ As I gasped and gulped in air, Bin shot me a curious look. ‘Are you alright?’
‘Yes.’
‘Because if you collapse in the middle of the street again, I’m out of here.’
‘I’m fine. Just peachy, in fact.’ I gave him a wide-mouthed, brilliant grin and he immediately recoiled. Ah. Too many teeth. ‘Just show me the house,’ I said. ‘Then your side of the bargain is over.’
He started to move faster. We passed the first and second streets on our left, but when we reached the third one Bin turned down it. I looked behind. Yep: all five cats were following us in single file. I inclined my head towards them to acknowledge their efforts, then plunged after Bin.
There were quite a few people around. In any other city in the country, that would have been unusual because it was just after five in the morning, too early for most joggers to get in their day’s exercise before work and too late for any but the most determined partygoers to be heading home on a week night. But this wasn’t a typical city and the hour preceding dawn was rush hour. In a way that was good because it meant that neither Bin nor I looked out of place.
Two hurrying vampires, one of them in bat form, passed us at high speed. A heavy-set troll clomped towards us from the other end of the street and swung into a pretty cottage just before we reached him. I caught a glimpse of a yawning dryad performing a sun salutation in her front garden alongside a smirking druid who was trying to mimic her movements and failing miserably.
‘There,’ Bin said. I jerked to a halt. ‘That’s the house.’
He pointed to number nineteen. There were at least three hundred houses along this street and for some reason I’dexpected it would be further down. Number nineteen made perfect sense, however, because I knew exactly who lived here.
‘Jimmy Leighton,’ I whispered. I’d known all along that he was one of Bin’s burglary victims; all this time the bastard who’d destroyed Keres’ life – and quite possibly Thane’s, too – had been right here. I should have realised.
As I stared at the front door, my cats gathered at my feet and did the same. ‘Gotcha,’ I whispered. ‘How did you get inside?’
‘Back door,’ Bin said. ‘I picked the lock.’
I chewed on my bottom lip.
‘Can I go now?’ he demanded.
I didn’t glance at him. ‘Yes. Thank you. Let yourself into my house and help yourself to whatever you like. The fridge is stocked up and there’s a bed made up for you in the back room. You can rest there without being disturbed until sunset tonight.’
The trow scurried away but I didn’t watch him go; my focus was entirely on Jimmy Leighton’s property.
There was no point trying to get in through the same back door as Bin. Having already been burgled, Leighton would have ensured it was properly sealed against further intrusions. With luck the other entrance points wouldn’t be heavily warded.
There was one easy way to find out.
I glanced down at the cats. ‘Ready for some criminal activity, kitties?’
Chapter
Twenty-Eight
Ihung back with She Who Loves Sunbeams. I was concerned about her; her joints were old and she was far more used to long naps than illegal incursions. Besides, I needed an excuse for loitering for the passersby who were on their way to and from their homes.
It helped that I recognised most of the people because, like the annoying witch whose ladder I’d borrowed, they would recognise me as the cat lady from around the corner. It wouldn’t appear out of the ordinary to see me lingering on this street and chatting to a furry beast.
The other four cats didn’t waste any time. Usually they were contrary moggies who didn’t take kindly to instruction, but now they understood what was at stake. Although they wouldn’t enter Jimmy Leighton’s house, they would find the best way for me to go in.
As I’d expected, it didn’t take them long to scamper into Jimmy Leighton’s front garden and start investigating the property perimeter.
‘Morning, Kit.’ It was Natasha, the troll who ran the butcher’s stall at the market and who was doubtless on her way to set up for the day.
