‘Pass on what exactly?’
‘That crimes and bad things … that there’s always something bigger going on. That it’s not always obvious who’s causing it.’ His umbrella popped open with a springing slap.
‘That demons are not just our enemies,’ Todd added. ‘They’re more like our puppetmasters. Just read your newspaper and you’ll see their work.’
‘I see.’
‘And remember,’ Todd added. ‘The Devil’s not just working in Menham. He’s everywhere and he’s keepin’ busy … so keep striving, Matt. Keep God in the public square, my friend.’
Neil and Jerry waited on the street, under their umbrellas. ‘Bless you, Matt,’ Neil said, with a smile.
Matt could see a white wire trailing from Neil’s ear now, vanishing into his jacket and the scanner tucked in there. Pressing a finger into his ear like the president’s motorcade was about to pull up.
The sky had darkened overhead and night was coming. Storm grey sinking into a blueberry wash.
He waved the three of them off and watched them climb into a Volvo estate not far from his own car. The Phoenix Club, locked and loaded for prayer.
He checked his watch. There was still time to eat.
Matt ordered a Belly Buster Burger and fries and before it came he went to the toilet and let the hand dryer loose on his crotch, watching the door constantly so that nobody walked in and saw him on his tiptoes, thrusting forward. Still a little damp he sat at the table again, alone now. He grabbed a newspaper and glanced through the pages as he waited for the food to come. The headlines did little to brighten the mood. A law student had been knifed to death outside a local nightclub. The killer was being sentenced this week. The guy who was exposing himself to little girls got a mention, with the catchy title ‘Local Pervert’. In another story an overly tired plumber had lost control of his van and ploughed into a charity shop on the high street. A woman and her son were still in critical condition.
Plenty of devil fodder for Todd and his friends.
Matt just shook his head and pushed the depressing newspaper to one side. Instead, he noticed the TV that was bolted to the wall and asked the woman behind the counter to turn the sound up.
He spent the rest of the meal in silence, squeezing out tomato ketchup and waiting for the seance time to come. Watching home videos of bridegrooms fainting and cats falling off window sills, while canned, manic laughter echoed around the empty cafe, like a bunch of giggling ghosts.
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
She blinked and stared.
Blinked again.
Squinting as if her eyes were being speckled with sudden dust from the street, but all she saw was the four roads intersecting and the big buildings looming above her. As ordinary a place as any except for the dog that was padding slowly across the centre of the empty road, towards her. It had no owner and it was getting closer. She guessed this was some sort of Dobermann, with a skinny xylophone ribcage and weird white and silvery fur. It looked like it was covered in dust. And as it gawped at her she could hear a voice in her head that wasn’t her own.
There are such things.
Silly random thoughts. A dog speaking, mind to mind.
Ha, ha, ha … this kerazy Menham life is so ridic—
‘There are such things.’ The dog blinked. Licked its lips and thought some more, ‘And soon you’ll get it, Rachel. In fact, it’ll be tonight. Tonight, you’ll know.’
She glanced up at the office block again and noticed that the staring cleaner had now gone. The thought occurred to her that this didn’t mean she’d gone back to dusting, but rather, she was heading down in the lift now to join them on the street.
Rachel was trembling as the dog slowed to a standstill in the middle of the street looking right at her. Its tail motionless, its eyes slowly closing and opening. At one point it opened its mouth and flashed its fangs, which she kept telling herself was a yawn, because that’s what dogs do. That this was just a silly old stray wandering the streets getting bored out of its mind looking at her. Though it still looked more like a hellhound, displaying the weapons it was planning to use on her.
She didn’t know what else to do, so she did what people do with dogs. She said, ‘Hello, boy.’ She spoke in the sort of dim-wit speech patterns people deem appropriate for animals or little kids. Or blind people. ‘What are you up to?’
It padded a paw forward and tilted its head. Then it turned very, very slowly toward an alleyway across the street. It kept just staring at it, at the shadowy mouth of the lane. Like it was waiting for something to come striding out of there to join it; its owner maybe or—
—the rabbit.
The dog whispering frantically in her ear.
– Rabbit’s coming. And Holly too. ’Cos there are such things. There are, there are, there are, there are.
– and tonight you’ll know.
It was barking toward the alley. She wasn’t even sure when the dog had started doing that, but she was just suddenly aware that it was. Really loudly. Each snap of sound made her blink and flinch.
She stared at the alleyway as leaves rustled and span out of it, tumbling along the floor. Then she heard someone laughing and realised it was her. A full chuckle that was part madness, part stress and part disbelief at how she was falling for this stuff. The sound made the dog turn back to see her and her brain spoke sensibly at last.
The dog that killed Steph is dead. This is a random stray. Get in the car.
The silvery-white dog stepped forward.
‘Can’t chat.’ She gulped in a breath and held it for the entire speed walk across the road. Never letting that breath out, even as she fumbled for
