Death Chorus: A Chilling Scandinavian Crime Thriller (DI Jamie Johansson Book 4) by Morgan Greene

Author:Morgan Greene [Greene, Morgan]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Mercury Books
Published: 2021-12-31T00:00:00+00:00

33

Hati was different. And it was freaking Jamie the fuck out.

She’d started cooking after her shower, and Hati had come and crouched at her feet, between the cooker and her shins, wedging himself in, body stiff.

The sound of a sizzling pan filled the air, and Jamie stirred the noodles on autopilot, the onion and garlic vapours burning her eyes a little. The headache that had been plaguing her all day had now receded to the back of her skull and died to a low, irritating scratching, like there were bugs inside her brain trying to burrow their way out.

Her eyes were half closed, out of focus as she stood there, spatula in hand, pistol on the counter next to her.

It was probably half-past eight – she didn’t really know.

Hati rose awkwardly, pushing her back from the stove, and muscled his way free of her knees, circling behind her. She found it was less dangerous to ignore him than to try to do anything else. If he came near of his own accord he wasn’t liable to bite, but if approached was about as predictable as an alligator. Mostly in the sense that he was very fucking predictable and if you put your hand near his face he’d sink his teeth into it.

She heard his claws scrabble on the counter behind and turned, spatula in hand, ready to slap him on the head.

‘Hey!’ she called, raising it. And then she froze, seeing that he wasn’t trying to take the raw chicken off the chopping board as usual, but instead, was standing straight, back like a pike, hackles up, his torn-up ears flattened to his head.

Jamie lifted her eyes then to the windows, to what Hati was looking at, saw the glare from the extractor fan light glimmering off it, the shine from the lamp, the reflections of her furniture there. She looked, narrowing her eyes, searching the glass, trying to see what Hati was looking at, pulling apart the images, the ghosts, the refractions.

And then she saw him.

Right in the fucking middle, right at the glass, all black feathers and claws. A mass of crows’ heads occupied the space where his face should have been, his shoulders pauldrons of layered black wings, his raised hand a writhing cluster of crows’ feet, sharp, hooked little talons tapping on the glass.

Jamie’s brain exploded, her eyes snapping wide, and she turned, snatched the pistol from the counter, flinging the spatula against the wall by sheer accident, and then swung back, levelling it at the window, finger already squeezing the trigger.

Her eyes tried to pick him out again, couldn’t. Her finger twitched, desperate to rip that trigger back.

But then there was a flash to her right, moving across the windows. A dark shape sweeping up the length of the living room towards the back door.

She saw it through the glass there, finding the path that led down into the garden, and fleeing towards the edge of the forest, trailing feathers.

Hati went wild.

Jamie burst forwards, left hand stretching out for the handle.

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