Ravenfall

by Narrelle M. Harris

  ‘Paint,’ said James, rising and reclaiming his hand so he could clear the table. ‘I’ll call Michael.’

  James retrieved Michael’s number from Gabriel’s phone, after Gabriel threw the mobile to him and refused to allow him back in his bedroom – I need quiet to work – but the call didn’t last long.

  ‘Michael? It’s James.’

  ‘Doctor Sharpe, it’s not convenient to talk right now. I’ll send someone to you.’ Michael hung up, before James could say a word.

  Half an hour later, someone knocked at the door. Leaving Gabriel undisturbed, James answered it to find an auburn-haired woman in neat business attire on the threshold. Her eyes opened wide when she saw him.

  ‘Oh, it’s you,’ she said.

  James frowned at this woman he’d never seen before. ‘Do I know you?’

  ‘I wouldn’t think so,’ she said, recovering herself and fixing a pleasant smile on her mouth, though not her eyes. ‘I work for Michael Dare. He sent me to chat with you about last night’s incident at the Blakely Estate, though I suspect he–’

  She pressed her lips together. ‘It’s best not to discuss it in the hall.’

  James could detect no sign of the supernatural about her. Her scent was human enough. Despite that moment of surprise at the door, she wasn’t alarmed. Did she even know what he was?

  ‘Doctor Sharpe,’ she prompted. ‘May I come in?’

  He stood back and the woman sauntered in, her low heels clicking on the floor. When she reached the kitchen she turned to face him.

  ‘Doctor Sharpe, my name is Anthea Webb. I work with Mr Dare at the Bureau, primarily as his assistant.’ Her gaze flicked to the sink and the inverted cups draining on the drying rack. ‘To get straight to business, Mr Dare would like to know your intentions towards his brother.’

  James’s eyebrows arched up in surprise. ‘Honourable?’ he suggested.

  Webb’s lips quirked. ‘You intend to marry him?’

  There’s a thought. ‘No need to rush things,’ said James coolly, ‘Though a June wedding is always nice.’

  ‘Mr Dare was under the impression that the two of you were merely very good friends.’

  ‘I was under the impression that Gabriel Dare was a grown man, not an Austen heroine, and that whatever we are is none of your boss’s business.’

  Two dimples appeared by the corners of Webb’s lips. ‘I’ll tell him you said so.’

  ‘Ta. So besides being an emissary for a nosy git, what brings you here? Or is that it?’

  ‘Oh, that’s far from it, Doctor Sharpe. Mr Dare was, I think, initially concerned that your friendship with Young Mr Dare would be solid enough for what he fears may become complicated in the near future. Given the fact that Young Mr Dare knows you’re a vampire and that you’re wearing his shirt today…’

  James’s shirt was too long for him, too narrow in the chest to button up properly, and had a splotch of paint on a sleeve.

  ‘…I feel I can reassure him on that point.’

  ‘Reassure away.’ James had no idea what to make of this woman.

  ‘As a secondary point,’ she continued, ‘I think Mr Dare suspected I might recognise you. He was correct.’

  ‘And where do you recognise me from?’

  ‘From a dream, Doctor Sharpe.’

  ‘A dream?’

  ‘Not a very clear one, I’m afraid, but for several years now I’ve dreamed regularly of a vampire who has an association with Mr Dare’s brother and a forthcoming danger.’ Again, the dimples as she smiled. ‘I’m Mr Dare’s assistant at BUS, but I also have some limited precognitive ability.’

  ‘You’re the second person to have that dream,’ he said.

  Webb’s eyes opened in surprise again. ‘Really? Who else, and in how much detail?’

  ‘Hang on,’ said James. ‘We need Gabriel for this.’

  He tapped on Gabriel’s door, which opened a crack. Gabriel peered out, a smudge of green on his nose. ‘You can’t come in.’

  ‘Your brother has sent someone. She’s had a dream, too. We should tell her about Datta.’

  Gabriel looked past James’s shoulder to the woman standing in the kitchen. ‘Not more bullshit.’

  Webb’s eyes sparkled impishly at them. ‘I never bullshit, Mr Dare.’ The impish sparkle got sparklier. ‘Not even just then.’

  ‘God, you really do work for my brother, don’t you?’

  ‘It is my honour and privilege, yes,’ she agreed. ‘Now tell me all about this Datta and let us work out if such a person might help save your brother’s life.’

  Chapter Sixteen

  James Sharpe was leaning against the hood of DI Bakare’s car, arms folded, when Bakare and Sergeant Tavisa Datta stepped out into the street in the early evening. He was better dressed than that night under Chelsea Bridge, but not as smart as the suit he wore to the clinic. His expression was still severe, though an indefinable something in his posture seemed more tranquil.

  ‘Any progress with those homicides?’ he asked.

  ‘None yet. There’s been another. You knew him, we believe. A patient of yours. We were heading around to get a statement. Young fellow called Peter Lacey, went by the handle of Blue.’

  ‘Blue’s a patient of mine. I haven’t seen him for a month or so. What happened?’

  ‘Strung up by his feet, with his throat slit like a sacrificial goat,’ said Bakare. ‘The house was soaked in it.’

  Sharpe shuddered at the description.

  DI Bakare took pity and backed off. ‘We’d like a look at your patient notes for the boy.’

  ‘Don’t you want my alibi?’ the doctor asked acerbically. ‘When did it happen?’

  ‘Last week,’ said Tavisa. ‘You were scaring the life out of me doing pretend-you’re-dead yoga and Dare was at the Spitalfields butcher at the time.’

  ‘You checked me and Gabriel out first, did you?’

  ‘Simply eliminating you from our enquiries,’ Bakare said, unfazed. ‘But about Lacey…’

  Sharpe looked like he was considering telling them both to fuck off, but obviously decided his best strategy was to get Bakare back on-side. ‘I’ll be back in the office tomorrow. We’ll need a warrant for the form of the thing. Send plainclothes, eh? I’d rather avoid spooking the rest of the patients.’

  The Detective Inspector sighed. ‘I’m only doing my job, Doc. Stay out of it and stop poking around crime scenes and we may be able to leave you out of it.’

  ‘Only too happy to oblige.’

  ‘So why are you here?’

  ‘I want a word with the sergeant,’ said Sharpe. ‘See how the Donal girl is doing. Find out if she’s still having bad dreams.’

  Tavisa was aware that the last part didn’t pertain to Penny Donal.

  ‘I’ll stay for a word with Doctor Sharpe,’ she said to her DI. ‘See you in the morning, yeah?’

  ‘All right then. And thanks again for your assistance that day, Doctor.’

  ‘Glad to be of help.’ The doctor smiled, a not entirely friendly expression. He apparently enjoyed Bakare being uncomfortably aware of what a bastard he’d recently been.

  Tavisa turned to Sharpe as Bakare drove off. ‘Penny’s doing okay. She’s living with her aunt. We got the guy who did it – a strong-arm man for big drug interests and you don’t care about that do you?’

  ‘Is he locked up?’

  ‘Oh yeah. We got him bang to rights.’

  ‘That’s good. But aye, I’m here about the other thing.’

  ‘My dreams.’ She pursed her lips sourly.

  ‘Have they changed at all lately?’

  She shot him a grim look. ‘How do you know?’

  ‘A hunch.’

  ‘The main part’s still there. You, dead, and the man that Gabriel Dare killed.’

  ‘Which isn’t what you think it is. What are the new things?’

  Tavisa folded her arms protectively across her chest. ‘
Too much. And all these… animals.’ The raven and the fox and the flamingo with all the flowers.

  ‘The changes are what interest me. There’s someone you should meet. He might be able to explain it.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘Easier if you meet him. There’s a lot to explain.’

  Tavisa Datta raked a critical eye over James Sharpe. The doctor submitted patiently to the scrutiny.

  ‘I know you don’t trust me,’ he began.

  ‘It’s Dare I don’t trust.’

  ‘It’s me, too,’ he contradicted her. ‘If it makes you feel better, Bakare knows we’re talking. If anything happened to you, he’d come straight for me. He’d have me… bang to rights.’ He smiled.

  She scowled back. ‘You’re not funny, you know.’

  ‘Gabriel thinks I’m a riot. He’s all that counts with me.’

  ‘You sound sweet on the little bastard.’

  ‘I am sweet on him,’ said Sharpe matter-of-factly, ‘though that’s feeble as descriptions go. Oh, don’t look shocked. You’re not shocked at all. You think I’m suicidal, which I’m not.’

  ‘He’s dangerous.’

  ‘He really isn’t. But I concede you’ve seen something peculiar. We’d like to get to the bottom of it. I’m sure you would, too. Come meet this man. See what comes of it. Who knows? You might even save another life.’

  Tavisa rolled her eyes. ‘Fine. I’ll come.’

  ‘Great. You can drive. I don’t have a car.’

  He followed Tavisa into her small, serviceable sedan. ‘Which way?’ she asked.

  ‘Satisfied I’m not about to abduct you and eat your spleen with a glass of white wine?’

  Tavisa laughed in spite of everything. ‘I wouldn’t put it past you, but not today. Which way?’

  ‘Left here, then right and head north.’

  She drove. ‘So who is this man we’re meeting? And why do you think he might be able to help?’

  ‘It’s not for me to say, yet,’ Sharpe replied. ‘Those are other people’s secrets and now isn’t the time. I also don’t want to influence your recollection of your dream with new data. When we get there, tell him about the dream. We can interpret it afterwards. Left here, then keep going.’

  She followed his directions until they hit a long stretch, when she turned on the radio. They listened to Top 40 hits and drove on without further conversation.

  Half an hour later, they pulled up in the car park of a locked-up warehouse. Another car was parked there already, a dark sedan with government number plates. Suspicious, she kept the engine running.

  The doors of the government car opened and out stepped Gabriel Dare in his usual scruffy jeans and leather jacket, an older man who bore a passing resemblance to him wearing a dark suit and black gloves, and a woman dressed in conservative but stylish business attire – dark tailored skirt, pinstriped jacket nipped in at the waist, auburn hair held up in a twist with a glossy black hair comb keeping it in place. The driver remained in the car, shielded behind smoked glass.

  ‘If you think I’m getting out of this car, you’re crazier than I am,’ said Tavisa.

  ‘Wait here,’ said Sharpe. He got out of the car and crossed to the others.

  Tavisa watched them talk, then decided she was being more paranoid than even she could bear. She killed the engine and got out, though she remained poised for trouble.

  Gabriel Dare, James Sharpe and the other two stood in a patient line for her to approach.

  Tavisa peered at them.

  ‘Is that your brother?’ she said to Gabriel.

  ‘Alas, yes,’ said the older man wryly. ‘My attempts to keep our familial ties a secret have failed utterly.’

  Tavisa wondered if he was joking. Gabriel was so sour that it seemed not.

  ‘I’m sorry, Sergeant Datta,’ said the man in question. ‘Levity was inappropriate. My name is Michael Dare. I work for a government department that has an interest in people with gifts like yours.’

  ‘Like mine?’ Tavisa drew away from him.

  ‘Precognitive ability, James and Gabriel have led me to understand.’

  ‘I don’t–’

  ‘I apologise. I’m being terribly ham-fisted about all of this. We don’t know how much time we have, you see, or where the danger lies. Perhaps it will… I suppose “put you at your ease” is not the way to phrase it. But if you would be patient for a moment. Miss Webb, if you would be so kind as to tell the Sergeant about your dream.’

  The auburn-haired woman smiled civilly. ‘There’s a raven,’ she said. ‘That falls. And a fox. He’s not a nice fox.’

  Datta gasped. A fox and a raven.

  ‘And him,’ Miss Webb nodded at James Sharpe, who stood at parade rest, hands clasped behind his back. He still looked dead to Tavisa’s eyes. ‘Gabriel Dare is nearby. I don’t get much else. The smell of disinfectant and the smell of blood.’ She tilted her head towards Michael Dare. ‘Is that all, sir?’

  ‘Thank you, Miss Webb, that will be all for now.’

  The elegant Miss Webb fell silent.

  ‘You can see why I am so interested in your dream, Sergeant Datta.’

  ‘I really can’t,’ she said stiffly.

  ‘You find nothing unusual in the fact that you and Miss Webb are having very similar dreams?’

  ‘I didn’t used to dream about a fox.’

  ‘But you do now?’

  Yes, damn it. I do now.

  ‘Miss Webb is the sole precognitive dreamer in our department,’ said Michael Dare. ‘The talent is rare and her gift is not very strong. From James’s description, however, it seems you have much more significant abilities. I cannot stress enough how important this is, Sergeant. That fox has dangerous designs and has already been responsible for several murders – which you have attempted to lay at my brother’s feet.’

  Tavisa’s eyes widened at this. ‘Those homeless people?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And that latest one. Peter Lacey?’

  ‘The boy called Blue? Yes. And the person he lived with.’

  ‘We haven’t found another body.’

  ‘You’ll find it in the roof. All ashes, I’m afraid. Mr Grimshaw was not what you would call entirely human.’ Michael pressed his lips together. ‘I’m getting ahead of myself. Please, Sergeant. Relate to us your dream and we will review how to proceed from here.’

  ‘You won’t like it,’ she warned. God knew what she was thinking, taking any of this seriously. But her eyes met those of Miss Webb’s and a spark of sympathetic understanding shone in them. That spark promised answers, at long last, for the heart-breaking mystery that had been her life of horrific dreams.

  ‘My liking it or not is immaterial. Describe it. Please.’

  So Tavisa Datta described her strange and changing dream.

  ‘I’m walking in a fog,’ she said. ‘I can’t see much. I can sense buildings all around, streets and things. It seems to be London, at any rate. I can just about see my hand in front of my face, but that’s all. There’s an animal running around. Too fast to see, but I can hear it panting and it’s…’

  ‘Go on,’ the elder Dare said, when the pause went on.

  ‘It’s wicked.’

  ‘Wicked?’

  ‘I know it’s an old fashioned word, but it’s the one that fits. It’s a wicked animal.’

  Instead of scoffing, Dare was thoughtful. ‘What happens next?’

  ‘I step on something soft. It’s a flamingo. She’s lying on the ground, covered in tiny blue flowers. She has a garland of roses at her throat.’

  ‘She?’

  ‘It’s a she. Pink and fragile, a beautiful bird, and she might be asleep. I can’t tell.’

  ‘I see. Then?’

  ‘Then out of the fog I can hear the fox laughing. It’s definitely a laugh. A… wicked laugh.’

  ‘Can you tell me anything about the animal?’

  ‘I never really
see it.’

  ‘Nevertheless. Glimpses, through the fog? Colours? Smells? Sounds?’

  ‘It’s red and white and black. Embers and coals. It’s all teeth and claws. Sharp all over, even its face. Everything’s sharp and wicked.’

  ‘After this, what happens?’

  ‘I’m at a hospital. There’s a raven overhead. It’s huge. I can see it even through the fog. It’s the biggest raven I’ve ever seen, and it’s flying like it owns the sky and then it…’

  ‘What?’

  ‘It falls. Like a stone, like its wings have broken, and it falls right out of the sky, right at my feet. And I know you’re there.’ She glared at Gabriel. ‘You were up there, doing something to the raven. It’s your fault.’

  ‘How do you know I’m there?’ Gabriel asked.

  ‘I just do,’ she gritted out, ‘The way you know things in dreams. It’s like I can hear your voice.’

  ‘Hmm.’ Michael Dare didn’t seem especially bothered by this pronouncement. ‘And then?’

  Tavisa fidgeted. This was always the difficult part. The part that, in her dream, had her shaking and cursing and sometimes crying.

  ‘The raven crashes into the ground, and then it’s not a raven anymore.’ She spoke rapidly, trying to rush through it. ‘It’s a man. Covered in blood, his head caved in from the fall, his arms and legs broken. And James Sharpe is kneeling beside the body, and he’s dead too. He’s like a statue. No pulse. No breath. He’s devastated, like the worst thing in the world has happened to him and it killed him stone dead. And it’s all your fault.’

  Gabriel was unmoved by the description. ‘James said you described him as looking betrayed.’

  She swallowed. ‘Yes.’

  ‘Why?’

  She tried to capture the sensation of knowing that came with the dream. She wished she wasn’t telling this to Gabriel Dare and his slightly creepy brother, but damn it, it was good to be telling someone.

  She glanced at James Sharp, half sorry, half defiant. Perhaps he would listen now.

  ‘Because the worst thing is he wasn’t expecting it. And he was thinking of you. It’s like there’s a-a-a smear of you all over him. He expected something of you and you failed him, and now he’s dead.’

  Michael Dare frowned. ‘And the body? The raven that became a man. What does he look like? Have you seen him before?’