been an RM for such a short time, but I'm already aware of just how many things are connected to death, how many places act as interfaces or linkages between the Underworld and the living world.
The rear-view mirror shows me Oscar hunched over the wheel of his Hummer. His face is hard; then a lightning burst in the sky above conceals it. Travis is driving a little way ahead. I don't know what they think they're going to achieve if something actually happens on the freeway.
I take our exit from the M3.
And then I sense it. Something wrong. A force or a presence that didn't exist a heartbeat ago. And it's coming from beneath us. I rest my left hand on the dashboard. There's an odd beat, a rhythm, running counterbalance to the song.
'Bomb! Out!' I'm already slowing the car. I can feel it building, racing towards a crescendo of shrapnel. There's a little piece of me, the Hungry Death, I guess, that's loving it.
Lissa looks at me. She opens her door: the road is streaking by. There's no time. Up ahead, there's nothing coming, the road is clear. I yank my seatbelt free. The car's slowing, but not enough. The vibration shifts, increasing in pitch. The explosion, all that potential energy, is about to be exhaled in fire.
Lissa leaps and I do something I didn't believe was possible. I visualise it, as Suzanne must have with me, capture the movement in my skull, and then I shift beneath her. Fold her in my arms. She doesn't struggle against me, merely accepts that I can take this punishment. I hold her, bind her in me. She's warm and still against my cold flesh.
We're out, and rolling. The ground is hard and toothed. My clothes tear. The road bites, it digs its dirty teeth in deep. And ahead of us, the Corolla, slowed almost to a halt, explodes in a series of sharp detonations. Bits of our little car are tumbling from the sky.
I lie on the road, panting. Lissa gets to her feet; there are cuts all over her arms but I've taken the worst of it, thank Christ. She grabs me by the wrist and drags me from the oncoming traffic. When we're at the edge of the road she drops next to me. And then the storm unleashes all that rain, that blinding rushing rain.
Oscar's already pulling in behind us, windscreen wipers racing, hazard lights flashing. Cars are slowing, but Travis is out directing traffic. I've never seen anyone do it with such panache. When a man's that big, people pay attention.
'You all right?' I shout at Lissa. Things are leaking within me, even as I feel flesh and bone knitting. The rain's soaking me. Lissa crouches down, kisses me hard and squints; our communication is more lip-reading than anything else.
'Did you leave the fuel cap off or something?' she mouths at me.
Bones shift. Ribs slide back into place, organs repair themselves: I'm getting better at this. It itches like hell, though.
'Yeah, and I also left a bomb in the glove box. Sorry.'
We look over at the Corolla. It's a flaming wreck billowing black smoke. I feel that it saved our lives.
'Jesus!' Oscar says. 'Are you all right?'
'Fine. We're both fine,' Lissa says. As though none of this is new to us. And it goddamn isn't. Solstice is down among the wreckage almost before the ambulances and fire engines get there, his face set in a grimace. The storm has come and gone; the air's so thick you could serve it with a ladle.
Traffic creeps past. Gawkers mostly, peering at the wreck, and the various hues of flashing lights.
'Jesus, de Selby. It just goes from bad to worse with you, doesn't it?' He kicks at the wreckage with one steel-capped boot. 'I'd understand it if you had a car worth blowing up, but this piece of shit…'
That offends me more than it ought. But at least with Solstice on the scene, I don't have to answer too many stupid questions: just put up with his jibes. Alex is here, too, keeping in the background, looking worried. He's talking to Lissa. Taking notes, and studiously avoiding Solstice.
'Are you getting anywhere with Rillman? Isn't that your fucking job?' I demand.
'The guy's a ghost. The records just stop. No surprises, I suppose. But you know all about ghosts. Do you think this Rillman could be a Stirrer?'
'No. Stirrers don't operate this way. They're not nearly as subtle.'
Solstice taps a blackened hub cap with one foot. 'Do you call this subtle?' He sighs. 'Look, you've had a long night. Maybe you should go home. Rest up, get ready for all the questions I'm going to be asking you when I get my head around this.'
He thumps my back, and stares over at Alex. 'And tell that hack cop we don't need him here.'
'He's here as a friend.'
'He's a fucking nuisance, that's what he is.'
I walk over to Alex. He's glaring at Solstice.
'What did the prick say?'
'He'd like you to leave his crime scene.'
'His crime scene?'
'Alex, he has a point. Besides, the less he's thinking about you the better. Have you found out anything new?'
'Just how much I hate bureaucracies. Getting anything on these Closers is next to impossible. Look, the less I find the more worried it makes me,' Alex says. 'And then the harder I look. I'll find something.'
'Good,' I say. 'That's what I like to hear.' Oscar gets us home quickly. I can't help thinking that, in a way, we're lucky. If that bomb had gone off in the garage, Oscar, Travis and Lissa would all be dead. If it had gone off at the lookout there's no telling how many casualties there would have been. And all because some ex-employee who predates my time with the company has a vendetta against me. Because I succeeded where he failed.
When we pull into the driveway, something else grabs my attention. This day just isn't going to end!
'Are you feeling that?' I ask Lissa.
'Yes, it's not what it should be, but after today, I recognise it.'
We both look at the brace symbol above the front door. It should be glowing. It's not.
'What are you two talking about?' Oscar says.
'You're going to have to stay in the car,' I say to him. 'This is something you can't handle.'
Lissa and I slide out of the Hummer and hurry up the front steps and onto the verandah. I have the door open in a moment, and we slip inside my parents' house. Now, I used to sneak in here a lot, when I was dating. I know every single creaking floorboard, every single shadowed alcove. Lissa follows my steps. We reach the living room with barely a sound above Lissa's racing heart and the whisper of our breathing.
Here the sensation, the taste, is stronger. But not as strong as I'd expect.
I signal to Lissa and she nods, pulling out her knife.
I creep through the living room, then into the kitchen. Lissa is behind me, the only person I would ever trust with a knife in that position.
It's sitting there, in one of the kitchen chairs.
'Get out of here,' I snarl.
The Stirrer smiles. Blood has settled along its cheekbones. Its eyes are dead: blank. It turns towards us clumsily. Every movement must be difficult for this creature. It can't have inhabited the body for very long, no more than a couple of hours, maybe much less. 'You don't recognise me, do you?'
'Am I supposed to?'
The Stirrer nods towards Lissa. 'I took over her… remains.'
How could I forget? When Morrigan murdered Lissa, this Stirrer used her body. It had even come to me and tried to make a deal.
'You bitch!' Lissa almost leaps over the table. I'm normally the one doing something stupid. I grab her arm, and it's a strain to keep her here with me.
'Not yet,' I say.
The Stirrer's grin is a challenge to us both. 'You need to listen to me,' it says. 'Things are accelerating, but we are not as unified as you might think.'
'Is that what you told Morrigan?' Lissa demands.
I can feel the Stirrer now. Its absence. I can feel the things it is drawing away from the world; it's like a cloud that has passed over the sun.
'Morrigan was a mistake. It got out of our control.'
