Taken

If it was just a routine enquiry . . . but if it was a murder investigation . . . “Come on,” I said, going up the stairs two at a time. Sonder hurried after me.

I gave the second floor a quick visual check as we emerged from the stairwell. No security cameras. I walked quickly and quietly to number 329 and looked into the immediate future of going through the door. No movement. I pulled out my tools. “Cover me,” I said, going down on one knee. Sonder stood above me, looking nervously from side to side.

Being able to see the future helps with a lot of physical skills and lockpicking is one of them. You still need to know how to use the tools, but with my divination magic I can see at a glance if a lock’s beatable and if so how. Conscious of how exposed we were, I worked fast.

After twenty seconds there was a click and the door swung open to reveal a plain corridor, open doorways leading into rooms ahead of me. I signalled to Sonder to stay back and slipped inside. I was already scanning the futures, looking for the flurry of combat I’d seen before. Nothing on the ground floor, nothing on the first floor—that didn’t make sense, I should be seeing a fight. I checked again. Living room, bathroom, bedrooms—no combat. I wasn’t in any danger at all.

“Alex?” Sonder whispered from behind me. I waved to him to stay back. There was something odd about the air in here, a strange smell. Coppery.

I switched from a focused scan to a wide one. Instead of looking only for combat, I looked into the futures of entering the rooms ahead of me just to see what would happen . . . and suddenly I knew what that smell was.

“I—” Sonder started to say.

“Stay there,” I said harshly and walked forward.

The men who’d tried to kill Anne two nights ago were in the living room. One was sprawled across the sofa on his back, eyes staring sightlessly up at the ceiling. His throat had been torn open with such force that it had almost severed his head, and blood glistened over his fingers and in a gory spray around his body. The second man was sprawled against the wall, greyish intestines strewn around his shredded stomach. The rich scent of blood filled the air.

I stood quite still, not going any farther into the room. My eyes took in the details. Furniture overturned where the men had fallen, but nowhere else. Coffee mugs on the table with a TV remote. A thread of steam was rising from the coffee and the blood was still fresh.

Sonder was trying to get my attention from outside, but I wasn’t listening. My heart was pounding from the adrenaline and I looked into the future of searching the bodies, being very careful not to move. Wallets, phones, keys—and weapons. Both had been carrying guns, but they hadn’t taken them out. Their hands were empty.

I thought back over my movements. I hadn’t stepped in the blood. Had I touched anything that could have left fingerprints? No, I’d been careful. But any second now someone could show up. We had to get out of here.

All the same, I hesitated. These two had been alive when I’d checked five minutes ago. Someone had been here between now and then—

The policeman. The one who’d been alone. I turned and walked out, brushing past Sonder. “Move.”

“Wait, what—”

“We’re leaving.” I hurried downstairs, searching through the futures for signs of movement. There were people about in the flats, and I altered our course to make sure we wouldn’t meet them. I did not want any witnesses placing us at the scene when this got reported to the police.

Once we’d made it back down to the entry area I breathed a little easier. I looked into the future for any sign of the policeman, searching for what we would find if we opened the door. Nothing but falling rain. “Alex?” Sonder asked. “What’s going on?”

I turned to Sonder, about to ask him to help me find where the man had gone. Then suddenly I stopped as I realised what I was doing. Whoever or whatever this guy was, he’d just ripped apart two trained gunmen. Did I really want to chase after him?

A door opened in the stairwell above and that decided me. “Come on,” I said, opening the door into the cold drizzle. “I’ll explain once we’re out of here.”

*  *  *

“Did you manage to identify the man?” Talisid asked.

It was two hours later, and Talisid and I were sitting in a French restaurant in Holborn. The tables were widely spaced and Talisid had chosen one at the back where pillars made us hard to see from the street. The room had a high ceiling and was light and airy. The lunchtime crowd wasn’t too heavy, and the buzz of conversation around us was low.

“No,” I said.

“Didn’t you say Sonder was with you?” Talisid said.

“And I could have asked him to look back to see what happened and maybe follow the guy. Yeah, I know. I didn’t.”

A waiter appeared next to us. “May I take your order, sirs?”

“Moules à la marinière followed by poulet à la moutard et au miel.” Talisid handed him the menu. “And a glass of the house red, please.”