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‘He just kind of cropped up one day. Doesn’t speak. Didn’t give us a name. Seems happy enough to answer to Phoenix though. You know, because of the mask.’
‘What does he do?’ Harriet asked, and even she looked a bit perturbed by him. The room almost seemed to ripple around him, like he wasn’t fully human. His eyes were almost inky black, like charcoal. His eyes met mine, and it was like my soul went up in smoke.
‘He burns shit to the ground. Well. If you want those bodies charred beyond recognition as well as all your evidence up in smoke, he’s your guy. Now grab your shit and get out. When it goes up, it’s going to be quick.’ Ewen was already making for the door.
We gave the house a quick sweep, taking anything of ours with us. Piling out and crunching through the trees. I stopped when an almighty roar blasted through the trees. Within minutes, the trunks were silhouetted orange, the house going up in a tremendous blaze almost unilaterally. Fire normally spreads, but this one all out consumed.
Harriet tugged on my hand, but I couldn’t tear my eyes from the inferno. The fire coiled out, licking from within the windows. And then the door opened, and a figure emerged. All in black, walking through the flames like they were nothing. It was a fearsome sight.
He gave me one nod before heading off in the opposite direction.
Who the hell was he?
‘Back to ours?’ Mac asked, breaking me from my fascination.
I looked at Petros and Harriet. ‘Do you want to?’
‘Is there a hot shower?’ Petros asked.
‘And a comfy bed?’ Harriet added.
‘Both in abundance,’ Ewen laughed. ‘Not only that, I’ll get my wife to order us a fuckload of takeout.’
‘No Italian food,’ Petros and I said in unison.
FORTY-ONE
HARRIET
Alfie threw his arm over my stomach, his lips idly grazing my shoulder. After a day at the McGowans’ mansion, I was glad to have our little trio back in the bunker, alone.
Petros came into the bedroom, carrying a tray laden with coffee, tea, and muffins. His face was more relaxed than I’d ever seen it. Even with the potential repercussions of what we’d done, he looked like a man who’d just taken his first vacation.
Sitting up a little in bed, I grabbed my phone and perused the news. It didn’t take long for one headline to jump out at me.
Borders house fire kills six.
‘It’s happening,’ I said. Alfie and Petros curled in next to me and read over my shoulders.
The article mentioned nothing about murder. It stated that the group of friends, all well- connected, older men, had been trapped in their beds as an inferno broke out.
‘They’re lying,’ I whispered. ‘Why would they lie?’
Petros laid a hand on my arm and gave me a squeeze. ‘It might just be misreported. Or maybe, Phoenix did such a good job of incinerating the place that there was nothing but ashes to go off.’
‘No,’ Alfie said. ‘The press love to sensationalise. It’s being quashed. Which is good news for us.’
Relief mingled with anger. Relief that we’d gotten away with it. Anger that those men would be remembered as good family men, or stand-up figures in society. They were the scourge.
‘It’s not fair,’ I muttered. ‘It means there are people out there who know. People who know and want to hide it. That can only mean people like them.’
My breaths quickened as I tried to fight the rage and injustice. It wasn’t over. It would never be over.
Petros took my phone and placed it on the side, before kneeling over me and planting a soft, searching kiss on my lips.
‘You stopped them.’
‘Not enough,’ I said between kisses.
