Valentine peered at the picture. A group of soldiers and civilians stood around the charred remains of three Quonset huts, looking grim. Valentine picked out Corby in the background. “How did it start?” he asked. Malik made a face and shrugged. “They put it down to a Germany incendiary,” he said. Valentine turned the picture over in his hand, tasting copper and ash in the back of his throat. “Yeah,” he said thoughtfully. “But what kind of German incendiary?” - 8 - VALENTINE was dreaming of childhood. It wasn’t a particularly good dream, because growing up hadn't been a lot of fun for him. Even as it was happening, even as he was stalking through a dark, windy car park towards a figure with his back to him, he knew what it was …show more content…
His face, of course, was a limp grey sack of dead grey skin and lank red hair. His eyes were circles of darkness, but whatever was under there smiled. Valentine bared his teeth, raised the metal bar and ran screaming towards him. He was going to shatter him. Break him. Splinter every… His phone cut through the dream like an air raid siren. - 9 - VALENTINE snapped suddenly and violently wake, flailing for the phone by the bed and feeling vaguely annoyed that he’d been denied the chance of a fight. “Yeah,” he snapped into it. “Who’s this?” “I do hope I didn’t wake you,” Conway said. Valentine slumped back against the pillows, arm across his eyes. “Not at all, mate,” he said. “Just in from a ten mile run.” Conway’s rasping laugh sounded like static on the line. “Thanks so much for your email last night.” “You got it, did you?” “Porter did.” “Thought as much,” Valentine grunted. He opened his eyes just a slit and peered around. He was in his own apartment, which was good. Alone, which was less good but pretty much expected. Conway was still droning on. “We found one of his cabal, still alive and living in London,” he said. “Good for you.” “So we’ll pick you up in about fifteen …show more content…
Listening hurt, but talking hurt a great deal more. “Wasn’t planning to get out of bed until lunchtime,” he muttered. Conway chuckled. He seemed more amused than annoyed. “Couldn't you let me have a lie in, you bastard?” Valentine slurred. “What the hell do you need me for anyway?” Conway twisted around in his seat. “Because back at Corby’s house, you knew it was an Outsider.” He was still grinning. Valentine shrugged, eyes screwed shut against his mounting headache. “We all knew,” he muttered. “No,” Conway said. “We suspected, but you knew.” He let that hang in the car for a second. “How did you know?” Valentine opened his bloodshot blue eyes and peered at the professor. The other man was watching him closely. “You deal with enough shit, eventually you get to recognise the smell,” Valentine said. Then he closed his eyes and sat back, saying nothing. All he wanted to do was sleep. Just for a few minutes. For several seconds, there was blessed silence. “Ruby Taylor,” Conway said. Valentine grunted without opening his eyes. “She was one of Corby’s cabal,” Conway rattled on. “Runs a bookshop in Bloomsbury.” Valentine