‘People don’t turn into birds. It’s a physical impossibility.’
Jordan Deakes was back in Starbucks, sitting across from Andrea and her colleague. She’d introduced the man as Fletch when they’d caught up with him on the roof. The disappointment of losing Salina was etched into Andrea’s face and she had asked him back to her car for a debriefing. Deakes had declined, preferring to stay in a public place, and instead suggested the coffee shop.
‘Yet it happened,’ he said. ‘I just can’t understand how it happened.’
‘We don’t need to understand why the Earth goes round the sun to know what a year is,’ Fletch said.
‘Somethings just are,’ Andrea added. ‘Maybe in time we’ll solve the mystery, but until then we can’t deny the existence of therianthropy simply because we don’t understand it.’
Deakes took a sip of his coffee, eying the two over the rim of the cup. Their body language and demeanour brought to mind a pair of detectives, with Andrea being the senior. He guessed their partnership was how they had followed him to Park Heights; after ditching Andrea earlier in the day, Deakes had been complacent and not noticed Fletch trailing him in a different car. A rookie mistake for which he chided himself.
But they were not police, of that he was certain. When they had spoken earlier, Andrea would have used her credentials to bring him on side had she been operating within the law. Besides, there was no police division that investigated shapeshifters. This was not The X-Files.
All of which told Deakes that they were agents of an organisation which operated with the spooky and the supernatural. Andrea had mentioned that she knew a place which could offer Salina protection, after all.
‘So what’s our next step in finding Salina?’ Deakes asked, setting down his cup.
Fletch’s eyes widened. He opened his mouth to speak but Andrea stopped him.
‘I have to say, Jordan,’ she said, ‘I’m impressed with how well you are taking this.’
Deakes shrugged in what he hoped was a nonchalant manner. He had watched a woman step off a roof and, instead of seeing her broken body at the foot of the building, witnessed a raven fly up from where she should have been. The situation was nothing short of madness, and his head spun when he tried to comprehend what had occurred.
But he had a job to do. Salina Edison was still missing and he would employ every trick at his disposal to fulfil his task. Even if that meant delaying a mental breakdown.
‘The world isn’t as black and white as we’d like it to be,’ he said. ‘We have to acknowledge the grey.’
Andrea was quiet as she studied him. Her green eyes, sharp and intelligent, gave away nothing of what she was thinking. Finally, she nodded and said, ‘I think we should bring you in.’
‘Harris won’t like that,’ Fletch said. ‘You know he likes to vet the newbies.’
‘I can deal with Harris,’ Andrea replied. To Deakes, she said, ‘What do you say? Do you want to learn more?’
‘What I want,’ Deakes answered, ‘is to know how we find Salina.’
‘She’s in the wind,’ Fletch said.
‘That’s right,’ Andrea said with a curt nod. ‘We can help her when she resurfaces. Until then, there are others in need of our assistance.’
Deakes shook his head. He had hoped for better from the pair.
‘I’ve been employed to find Salina,’ he said, getting to his feet. ‘If you’re not going to help, you’re wasting my time.’
‘Wait,’ Andrea called. She pulled out her phone and let her fingers dance on the screen. A moment later, Deakes’s mobile beeped. ‘I’ve sent you my number. Contact me when you change your mind. As an incentive, I’ve included details of the person who made us aware of Salina.’
From the shopping plaza, Deakes took a circuitous route through the city. He checked his rearview mirror after every turn. Andrea had already fooled him once by having a second tail on him – he wasn’t going to fall for that again.
When he was convinced no one was following him, he headed out to Conway Fields, a small village five miles from the city limits. He pulled into the car park of the solitary pub and took his phone from the cradle. An alert on the home screen informed him of Andrea’s unread message.
It wasn’t surprising that she knew his mobile number. He was a private investigator available to the public therefore his number could be found in any of his advertisements. He read her message, noting the picture of her and an older woman she had included, then switched the phone off and did the same with his personal mobile. This second number was not publicised but he credited Andrea with the ability to have obtained it.
Confident that he could not be tracked electronically, he set off again. Forty minutes later, he was sitting in a plush study in the Edison residence. William Edison was perched against a large desk, his arms folded. His hair was greying prematurely, making him seem older than his late twenties.
‘What I’m hearing,’ he said, ‘is that you lost my sister.’
‘It is true that Salina took flight,’ Deakes said. He did not miss Edison’s reaction to the word, a twitch of the upper lip which would have become a snarl had the man not had better self-control.
To allow himself time to regain his composure, Edison moved to a nearby display unit and adjusted the position of a bottle. On its side, resting in a recessed plinth, the bottle contained a model three-masted ship. A nameplate on the stand announced it as the Misty Rose.
‘I need to know more about her condition,’ Deakes continued, ‘and whether it is hereditary.’
Edison turned back to Deakes, calm once more.
‘My mother also suffered, and it drove my father into an early grave,’ he said, indicating a picture on the wall. Edison Senior beamed out of the photo from the deck of a yacht. Next to him, a dark-haired woman was waving to the camera. Only the lines around her eyes distinguished her from Salina.
‘Can I speak to your mother?’ Deakes asked.
‘I’m afraid she’s also gone,’ Edison said. His eyes flicked to the right, then back to Deakes. ‘She took her own life three years ago.’
‘I’m sorry to hear that.’ Deakes allowed Edison to believe he had accepted the lie.
Edison moved back to the desk and issued a long sigh as he slumped against it. His chest deflated, and his next words were raw and fragile.
‘This is the situation, Mr Deakes. I am worried that that same affliction which decimated my parents’ lives will also ruin Salina’s. I love my sister and I don’t want her to go through that.’
Deakes looked again at the photograph of the man’s parents. They seemed genuinely happy as they leaned against the railing of the yacht, above the boat’s name: Misty Rose III.
‘Do you have children?’ he asked.
‘My wife is pregnant with our first,’ Edison answered. His eyes lit up with pride but his voice was edged with uncertainty.
‘And you’re concerned you may pass on the gene if you have a daughter,’ Deakes said, framing it as a statement rather than a question.
The fear that flashed across Edison’s face was all the confirmation Deakes needed.
Skipper’s Cove nestled between two cliff faces on the eastern coast, the only viable access to the sea for fifteen miles in either direction. In times past, it had supplied fish to the surrounding villages, boasting room enough to moor five ships. Currently, only three vessels bobbed on the gentle tide.
Deakes watched the dock from the window of the pub, a Tudor building with low ceilings and an open fire. The boat furthest from him, the Misty Rose IV, appeared deserted.
After leaving William Edison, Deakes had visited a local library and used their internet to log on to the UK Ship Register. He could have checked the site via either of his own phones, or his laptop at home, but he was not sure if the organisation Andrea worked for could remotely check his reading history. As far as she was concerned, Deakes had to play it safe.
The website confirmed that four vessels named Misty Rose had been owned by the Edison family, going back to 1932. The most recent was registered to Charles Edison, William and Salina’s father, and last recorded as docking in Skipper’s Cove.
He’d paid for a printout of the route, not wanting to have an electronic record of his destination, and had arrived in the village three hours later. The sun had set a half-hour earlier, colouring the sky the faded grey that heralds the approaching dusk.
A groan from his stomach reminded him that he had not had a full meal since breakfast. It had turned out to be a longer day than he’d anticipated. He was considering calling it a night, and asking the barman for directions to the nearest hotel, when he spotted a dark figure leaving the Edison yacht. Dressed in dark jeans and a cream jumper, the blue hair gave her away.
He had found Salina again.
Deakes knew he had to bide his time. He could not afford to confront her in the open air and risk her transforming into a raven again. Though he was still not convinced that she had truly changed her physical form, the realist in him acknowledged that she was a genuine flight risk.
She was heading directly for the pub he was in. Deakes was not perturbed as it was the only public building for miles which was open at that time of the evening. He watched her enter and sit at a table before he approached her. She glanced up from the menu, a weary resignation in her eyes.
‘Let me buy you dinner,’ he said as he sat down across from her.
‘Why would you do that?’ she asked, her voice strained.
‘You left in a hurry. I think you may have left Tracy’s credit card behind.’
Salina stiffened. ‘It is you. You followed me all the way here?’
‘I tracked you down, yes,’ Deakes said. ‘I couldn’t follow you, because…’ He didn’t know how to finish the sentence.
‘Now what?’ she asked. ‘Are you going to help William lock me away now that you know what I am?’
‘All I know is that you’re scared. You feel alone and lost.’
Salina’s brow knotted.
‘I’m not going to make you do anything you don’t want to do,’ Deakes added.
‘I’d assumed William had sent you to bring me back.’
‘Your brother did employ my services,’ Deakes started, holding up his hand when Salina bristled, ‘but only to find you. With your permission, I’ll record a video message which I can deliver to him as proof that I succeeded. That way, I get paid and you stay free.’
‘Some freedom,’ Salina said, her eyes dropping to her hands. ‘I either live like a fugitive or go home and get incarcerated. Sometimes, I wish I had the courage to follow in my mother’s footsteps.’
‘You can.’
Salina glared at him. ‘You know she committed suicide?’ she said. Between her anger and sorrow, her voice was barely audible. ‘Her clothes were found on the beach here.’
‘That makes sense,’ Deakes said with a slow nod. ‘I take it no body was found.’
An almost imperceptible shake of her head was the only response she could offer.
‘There’s someone I think you should talk to,’ Deakes said.
He took out his phone, switched it on and accessed Andrea’s message. With his hand covering half of the picture, he slid the phone to Salina.
‘This is Andrea,’ he said. ‘She said she could help you, that she wanted to give you asylum. And of course,’ he added, removing his hand from the other woman, ‘you recognise your mother.’
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