The bald-headed man paused at the base of the stairs, his face dark with irritation. ‘And I would prefer that you do not summon me urgently without giving any indication of your status.’
‘The issue is external. Not with me.’
Her status was nauseated. Her fingers were twitching as though the nerves had taken a life of their own. Her pulse thudded at her temples. It was three thirty in the morning. Apart from the solitary hour of sleep she’d woken from a short time ago, she’d been awake for approximately thirty-six hours. An unreasonable length of time, even by her standards, but Tamas and Captain Nex had been relentless in ensuring all testing on the four carapaces was complete before they removed—tore— them from her care.
Blake rubbed at the grooves marked into her cheek where it had rested against the table. She did not believe in fate, or predestination, but was willing to recognise serendipity wherever it arose. And for whatever reason, it had risen yesterday, cementing her shaky ideas of rebellion. When Captain Nex had ordered Azrael relocated to level nine, in order to keep level eleven clear and ready for the Final Meld, the chances of spiriting Azrael out of the Facility rose. All eyes were on the Four, and level eleven. Tamas had barely acknowledged the Captain’s request for the transfer. A nod, a muttered approval, and the conversation was concluded. Since declaring the Final Meld, Tamas’s demeanour had changed. Grown so distracted he looked straight through her. Though they had required her assistance in the tech rooms for some minor issues last night, Blake’s time in the inner circle appeared to have come to an abrupt halt. Any other time the sudden invisibility would have riled her.
‘Blake?’ Rossiter’s bulky shadow fell across her keyboard.
‘I need you to view something that’s occurred at the Wheel and Barrow.’ Blake gestured to the recorded footage. Perry on his knees, back arched at an unnatural angle. Despite having watched it several times, it still roiled her stomach.
She hit the playback button, and the video recommenced. Perry’s mouth widened, but no sound escaped him. His body jerked and twisted in all manner of unnatural angles, head flicking back and forth like a deranged dancer.
‘Jesus,’ Rossiter hissed. ‘What is happening to him? Is it a seizure?’
Blake’s least-favoured words fell bitterly from her lips. ‘I do not know.’
Her lack of understanding drove her to distraction. To be at the heart of things and yet still know so little was torturous.
The dark hue of Perry’s face deepened further. Suffocation, or choking, Blake decided on her third viewing.
‘Did you call an ambulance?’ Rossiter dug his broad hand into his pant pocket, but Blake shook her head. Just that slight movement dizzied her. An occurrence growing more frequent as Cym’s latest potion lost its lustre.
‘No. I was asleep when this occurred. Keep watching.’
Perry jumped to his feet, jerking upright as if invisible strings hauled him upward. The image wavered, and static lines criss-crossed the screen. Though Perry stood, his own legs did not seem to support him. His knees bent, threatening to buckle altogether, but he somehow remained upright. He spun towards the camera. For one brief second his eyes fixed on the lens, and in the black-and-white image, they glinted as an animal’s would when caught in a car’s headlights. Except there were no headlights, no lights at all in the corner where the camera watched over the bar. The only lights on in the place were the soft overheads above the dark wood of the bar.
Then the spark disappeared. And Perry collapsed, lying with arms and legs splayed. The very position he remained in now, on the live feed. Blake turned to Rossiter, and her self-doubt immediately faded. This was no visual hallucination. No overreaction on her part. And a wrenching disappointment gripped her.
‘Christ, Blake.’ Rossiter squinted, leaning in close to the screen. ‘What just happened to him?’
She refused to admit lack of understanding yet again. ‘You saw it too? The odd light at the end? The interference with the TV circuit?’
‘I saw a man who needs medical care. That is Kira’s closest friend; we need to at least call an ambulance. But I don’t understand, why are you watching the Wheel and Barrow?’
Habit, and gut instinct, had seen her call on Rossiter. With the weakening of her body had come a clouding of her mind. And had, if the hallucinations she’d been experiencing were to be believed, begun to affect her senses. She did not have a ginger cat in her townhouse. Nor was it possible that her father had called out to her from the empty kitchen. Yet she had seen and heard both. She needed to be absolutely certain what was on the screen was real.
‘I believe this may have something to do with Azrael.’
Rossiter frowned. ‘What are you talking about?’ His voice dipped to a strained growl. ‘Tell me Kira is still in her townhouse.’
‘No. She is not.’
‘Bloody hell.’ He swept his hand over his bald head, a habitual movement related to his stress levels. ‘That stupid girl, did she not learn the first time?’
Now was the moment Blake should interject. Defend her sister’s actions and admit her involvement in all this. Blake ran unsteady fingers over the fading groove in her cheek. ‘We both know that Kira is not a ready learner. Her dependence on alcohol continues to cloud her faculties. I should have been more vigilant. Despite my instruction, she has taken Azrael off Facility grounds. A short time after she and Azrael left the pub, this occurred. I don’t believe Azrael was involved directly, but I do believe something preternatural has occurred.’
A reputation was a more powerful tool than the truth in this instance. The longer Blake concealed her involvement, the more readily she could lead those who searched for the gallu down a false trail. Granted, Rossiter’s loyalty was undoubted, but he wasn’t the
