Mirror Man by Jacques Von Kat

Mirror Man by Jacques Von Kat

Author:Jacques Von Kat [Von Kat, Jacques]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2021-04-30T23:00:00+00:00


Chapter Eleven

The strange dreams had continued to taunt me all night long, except when I drifted back to sleep, I’d been chasing after The Suit as the townsfolk chased after me. We’d make it as far as the library, where he would skid to a halt, turn, and point his fingers at me as his toothy grin turned into a snarl. Mr Phillips’s words would echo all around us like a voice from above: ‘I know you’ll do right by me, John-Michael.’

I woke up panting, and for a moment, I wasn’t sure if I was still dreaming. I patted my bed several times before I was certain I was back in the land of the living. I wiped at my brow before I checked the clock. I was going to be late! This had never happened to me before. I rushed to get ready, almost tripping over as I pulled on my jeans and ran downstairs for a quick breakfast. Mum was singing while making tea and toast.

She looked over her shoulder as I came in. ‘Morning, sleepy head. I was just going to come and wake you up.’

I froze on the threshold. I didn’t think I’d ever seen her in such a good mood.

She raised an eyebrow at me in one of the mirrors. ‘You’ll be late if you don’t get a move on, so sit down and stop gawping.’

After a mug of tea and four rounds of buttery toast, I went to work via the shortcut through the orchard, keeping my head down. I had a lot of thinking to do, but I couldn’t shake the vision of The Suit from my head. He’d been watching me as I looked in the safe. I knew I had to get a glimpse of what was in there.

The bell dinged above the door as I walked into Claude’s Antiques. Claude didn’t jump when I entered this time. Whatever had caused his anxiety had apparently faded away. He was busy cleaning a new vase on a small round table.

‘Morning, Mr Phillips,’ I said cheerfully, hoping he hadn’t noticed I was five minutes late.

‘Morning, John-Michael, how are you feeling today?’ he asked.

‘I’m good, thank you. How are you?’

He ignored my question. ‘I hear you tried to help that man who got knocked off his scooter yesterday.’

I shrugged. ‘I talked to him, that’s all.’

‘Well, still more than most would have done, anyhow.’ He threw the duster down, then went to his desk and opened his diary to go over the day’s appointments. ‘Right, best get on. No time for chit-chatting yet,’ he said without looking up.

‘Yes, Mr Phillips,’ I said.

He seemed to have recovered from his shock, but I still wanted to keep an eye on him. I knew he wouldn’t tell me if I asked him outright; he was always careful with the questions he answered. If he didn’t want you to know something, he ignored it. But I had eyes and ears; there were plenty of things I could do to



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