Page 121 of Dead Vengeance

A whole night. A whole week? A whole year?

Such a beautiful daydream.

One that only becomes a reality if we can get to the bottom of this mystery.

I whisper against his lips. “We’re not going to let this come between us, okay? I need you to know, I’m not scared of you. I’m not scared of what you can do. And I think you’re… wonderful. I think you’re a lovely man.”

He lets out a slow breath, his eyes turning hazy. “Liam…”

“I do. And I think this god has his wires crossed. Somehow, he’s come to the wrong place. Or… or… just landed here by chance.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

“He’s just randomly stopped here on the way to somewhere else.”

“Yeah. At a necromancer’s house. Weird coincidence.”

“It must be,” I argue. “Because nothing links us to that mirror. Nothing links us to him. None of it can have anything to do with us.”

“Certainly not with you,” he replies warmly, amiably, fondly.

“Yeah. Least experienced spirit hunter in all of history. I didn’t even believe ghosts existed until a few days ago.” I let my fingers land on the grainy image of the mirror on the paper. “You know, I bet my boss, Gerald, would love to know about that thing. If we could find it, get rid of it, it would solve all his haunting problems in one go.”

“And what?” He laughs. “Send him out of business?”

“I’m sure he’d much rather people weren’t in danger than be making money from running some shifty ghost company.”

“You’d hope so,” says Archer. But whether he intended it or not, the slightly reproachful note in his voice gives me pause.

“Well, of course he would.” I make the protest blindly, even as some part of me turns the thought over in the back of my mind. Gerald, who gave me this job on the spot when I’ve been so unemployable. Gerald giving me cash money for ‘travel.’ As a bribe.

Gerald, who had the police at his office because of…

Because of something the police are still looking for. Actively searching for. Asking to talk to Gerald about… some missing artefact, while he disappeared out the window with… a small, round black object.

The room swirls. The house and the Cotswolds and all of England swirl, and my hands land on the desk to steady myself.

There is a link between me and Tezcatlipoca. A link between me and Archer and Tezcatlipoca.

It’s the mirror.

Gerald has the mirror.

My heart beats violently against my ribs, sweat breaking at my brow. “I have to tell you something,” I whisper. “I have the most awful feeling I’ve just figured out exactly what’s been going on.”

Just then, both our heads turn sharply as three hard and pointed taps sound on the office door.

thirty-six

Tezcatlipoca

Archer

The knocks on the door are harder than a beak could manage, so I know it’s not Edgar out there. They’re louder than I think Simon would make, and slower than any normal(ish) person or animal might use.

The understanding slinks down my spine, setting every nerve alert.

I’m used to living in a weird-ass house, and that shit has never happened once. Things don’t come knocking for me. They just blunder in when I’m least expecting it, and I hope for the best.