Page 93 of The Other Side

“Yes.”

“Any lines of enquiry?”

“I’m not privy to that. I’m a PCSO not a policeman.”

“Hmm.”

Drum wasn’t sure what that hmm meant, but it made the hairs on the back of his neck stand up.

“Are you going to tell us about this place?” Osian interrupted, shifting the focus.

Mikkel merely cocked his head.

“I’m guessing it’s a refuge,” Osian said quietly.

Mikkel remained silent, watching him. Drum kept his mouth shut, too, aware of the sudden shift in the conversation.

“So far we’ve seen a faery, a werewolf, and now a demon,” Osian said casually, holding up his hand and counting his fingers.

What the flying fuck? Drum’s mind went blank. Mikkel is a demon?

“And here we have a faery and…” Mikkel turned his amber-flecked eyes from Osian to look quizzically at Drum. “Something else. It will come to me.”

A fucking demon! Drum curled his toes hard inside his boots, fighting the urge to bolt. Though he couldn’t leave Osian. What else out there was real? What else had he been blind to?

“Are you seeking refuge?” Mikkel asked Osian.

“Not at this moment,” Osian replied. “But possibly in the future. Would it be offered?”

“Perhaps.”

“What is this place?” Drum blurted, unable to help himself.

Mikkel’s gaze softened. “The faery guessed. A place of safety.”

“For?” Drum asked.

“For those whose existence can’t be explained by current scientific understanding. Paranormal and supernatural beings.”

“How did this place come into existence?” Osian asked.

Mikkel glanced between them. “Many centuries ago, an order was given to destroy a band of travellers. They’d been forced to move on from every place they’d tried to settle. Whenever anything bad happened, illness, death or accident, they were blamed. They were a group of misfits. Still are. A vampire desperate for his life to end but terrified of stepping into the sun. A shadow walker able to slip through the dark from one place to another, who’d done terrible things, but wanted a better life, wanted to be a better person. A witch and her partner, loved then feared wherever they went because mortals are never satisfied. A ghost who couldn’t cross over. A seer whose predictions caused dismay. Werewolves with no pack, no family, who fit in nowhere. A demon who found it hard to be bad and once upon a time, an angel who disobeyed the rules.”

Mikkel offered a self-deprecating smile. “And two humans. A boy whose brothers had made his life unbearable so he killed them. A girl whose father loved her far too much, so she killed him. They’d all done bad things, but mostly out of necessity.”

Drum’s heart hammered against his ribs. Every instinct told him to laugh, to call it a fairy tale.

“The angel was supposed to destroy them, but he couldn’t bring himself to do it,” Mikkel continued, the amber in his eyes flaring like dying embers. “He guided them to this valley, and they settled here. Sparlow became a sanctuary for those feared by others, a magnet for the weird and also for the wonderful. Very few people, mortal or otherwise, want to be evil. They just need the chance to be good. Sparlow gives them that chance. The very fact that you were able to find the way here, shows that the village trusts you.”

“As if anyone would believe all that,” Drum muttered, his voice shaking slightly.

Mikkel turned to him. “And yet, you do.”

Drum swallowed hard. He did. He didn’t know why. The silence stretched. Drum looked down at his uniform, the cap he was holding, the hi-vis vest, the radio clipped to his shoulder. It all felt absurdly inadequate now. He was equipped to deal with antisocial behaviour, parking disputes and bolshy sheep, not ancient folklore sitting across from him looking like a male model.

“If this place is a sanctuary,” Osian said, breaking the silence, “then is someone violating that sanctuary? Matthew Green was missing for four months, and now two people have been murdered. Monsters or humans, Mikkel?”

“We’re not monsters.” Mikkel’s expression darkened. He looked at his hands, intertwining his fingers. “The world outside is bleeding in. It always does eventually. Human malice and supernatural hunger look remarkably similar at times.”