Dispossession by Chaz Brenchley

Author:Chaz Brenchley [Brenchley, Chaz]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Chaz Brenchley, ebook, Nook, fallen angel, amnesia, Book View Cafe, Kindle, EPUB, urban fantasy
ISBN: 9781611382068
Publisher: Book View Cafe
Published: 2012-10-23T08:15:24+00:00

Nine: Still Life, with Raven

There must, I suppose, have been a pudding. Add that to the list, the many lists of things I can’t remember.

There must I suppose have been conversation, ditto; I may even have made a contribution to it, ditto ditto.

Perhaps I was overdoing the shocked-and-stunned effect. Perhaps I should have been better prepared. I knew, after all, that Deverill worked with SUSI, that Scimitar was his security of choice; and I’d seen earlier that he worked largely from home, that the heart of his organisation was here. No surprise, then, or it shouldn’t have been, to see a Scimitar van making a collection or a delivery or both. Important papers, money—anyone working as close as he did to the fringes of the law would work significantly in cash, and need significant amounts of it—anything crucial to the running of his various businesses might have been carried to and fro under professional guard, and quite reasonably so. No need for this touch of chill under my collar, the hand of Fate exhibiting its exceedingly poor circulation. No need even to react, let alone overreact the way I undoubtedly was. I knew that, I told myself that even as I did it.

But it was only a couple of hours since my mother and Suzie between them had named the bad guys in this story, since I’d found that name threaded deeper and further through the weave than even they knew. And now here they were, or some troops of theirs, right outside the house and probably inside by now, just a corridor’s length away from me. It was no great wonder if my cutlery skittered on the china, as my mind skittered from blind fear, this is a trap and they’ve come for me, to wannabe detective, I must find out who’s driving that van and what they’re doing here.

And back, and to and fro like a hot potato tossed from hand to hand, and each hand blistering.

Uncertain and afraid, of course I did nothing, neither started asking questions nor made a desperate bid for freedom; and so happened neither was necessary, because Dean—my good friend Dean, who winked at me and saved my life and so forth—came in and did good work again, gave me an answer and an opportunity.

Came in and went to Deverill, spoke to him but didn’t whisper, didn’t bother to hide what was happening.

“They’ve brought that girl,” he said. “The one who was so fancy with the bulldozer?”

Deverill glanced at his watch, and nodded: a man whose empire ticked its heartbeat on his wrist, and clearly kept excellent time.

“I’ll come now,” he said. Touched his napkin to his lips and rose from the table, with a gesture to me, stay there, as I shifted uneasily. “Finish your coffee, Jonty. More in the pot, if you want it. Talk to Dot, keep her company. I’ve some business to see to, but I’ll be back.”

I didn’t much want to talk to Dot, I wanted to go

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