that the real drama had been unfolding just half a mile away. Every cloud had a silver lining, I supposed, and at least there was one less thing to worry about.
The journalist turned to a woman at her side. So the ubiquitous Mrs Arbuckle was there after all, I noted. I turned away rather than listen to her take on what would no doubt be transformed even further into terrifying earthquakes of biblical proportions. That was when I noticed Nick across the street, watching the action with his arms crossed. He glared at me for a moment and then pointedly ignored my presence. It probably wasn’t worth my effort to try and appease him, and I was pretty certain that he would have no further details on the robbery at Perkins. Demi-gods were no doubt rather accomplished at staying hidden from any human investigations into their undertakings. And Cornwall’s finest weren’t exactly CSI. I felt bad about hurting his feelings but it was better for him in the long run.
There was an old red telephone box by the other side of the little square. I was pretty sure I had some change in my pocket - should I call Corrigan and tell him everything was okay? Then I thought of Julia. This was her home and she’d be more concerned about the village than Lord Shifty. I was annoyed with myself for not thinking of her first. She was my alpha – sort of - she should always come first. I thrust my hands into my pockets and stalked over to the phone. Julia wasn’t the kind of technologically advanced person who possessed a mobile, although admittedly whilst I had one I was always forgetting to bring it with me which meant I might as well not own one at all either. I called the keep itself. No-one picked up so I left a message.
I put the phone down and gazed unseeingly at the years old graffiti etched into the paint, trying to decide what to do next. It was ridiculously dangerous, but maybe I should try entering the portal. If all Iabartu was going to do was to send minions through who would wear us down bit by bit, then surely it was high time to go on the offensive instead. The problem was that I’d have no way of finding her, or my way around once I entered her demsenes. It could very well be a vast plane of existence, which I’d spend the next sixty years or so wandering around in a clueless fog before eventually dying of old age. I drummed my fingers against the glass and absently traced a small tag written in black that proclaimed that ‘Blake woz ere’. Inspired words. Truly.
Then I paused and remembered the black piece of cloth that I’d found in the clearing and which had been shot through with silver. It was just possible that it had belonged to Iabartu. It seemed strange that she’d just have left it hanging there, and there hadn’t been any evidence of her presence anywhere other than at the seven stones and tree runes at the beach. But who else could it have belonged to? Alex would be able to tell me if it was hers or not by scrying it. If it wasn’t hers, then it was at least likely that it belonged to another of her servants who might be able to lead me to her. And if it was…
I was confident that Alex would be able to put a locator spell on the material to find its true owner. He had already said that one of his jobs was often to help owners find lost objects. It must be an easy process to reverse and help lost objects find their owners. I felt instantly invigorated. Let the Brethren and the pack take care of matters here. I’d get Alex to help, grab some of the silvered weapons, and sort the bitch out.
Awesome.
Chapter Twenty
I ran through the woods towards the keep with a renewed sense of purpose. Now that I finally had a proper plan, both adrenaline and warmth trickled through me. I ducked under a couple of branches and leaped over a bush, avoiding the usual path so that I could take a shortcut and get back quicker. It was my sense of impending achievement, however, that made me so blinkered, and so dumb.
Traces of the otherworld are evident everywhere, if you know where to look. I did know where