The Hidden Eye

by Oliver Davies

  I slammed on the brakes when I realized the light ahead of me had turned red. My hands shook on the wheel, so I clenched them tight, the skin on my knuckles going white. What the hell had my father gotten himself into? Because these had to be the same people who’d gone after him. He’d asked the Kraken for help, and then he disappeared. I went to her too, and I almost got killed. It wasn’t a coincidence. Was she in on it? Did she have a hand in it? But our attackers had shot at her, too, had hit her, even. Was she hardcore enough to take the deception that far? I didn’t think so, given her age, but I couldn’t know for sure. She had to remain a suspect. The timing was just too odd.

  I’d been driving around and around for about half an hour before I realized I was close to Rayla’s flat. She told us she lived not far from Jacob. I dug my phone out, praying it would still work, and somehow, it lit up when I hit the home button. The screen was watery, as if the ocean had seeped in between the cracks. It didn’t have long. I dialled Rayla, praying she’d pick up before the device gave up the ghost.

  “Hello?” she said. It sounded as if I was still trapped beneath the waves, and she was speaking to me from up above.

  “Rayla, can I come over?” I spoke quickly, racing my dying phone.

  “Callum? Sure. What’s--?”

  “Your address?” I interrupted, and she rattled it off.

  My phone went dead in my hand, the screen turning black, so I dropped it to the passenger seat. I was fairly sure I knew where her street was, and in just a few minutes, I was pulling up outside her flat.

  Rayla was waiting for me on the front path, wrapped in a towel dressing gown and looking worriedly up and down the road. She recognized my car as I parked on the far side of the street. I wondered if I should park somewhere else and walk over, to better hide my location, but the thought filled me with such a bone-deep weariness that I left the car where it was and climbed out, moving as if I were suddenly ninety years old.

  Rayla hurried up to me, glancing up and down the street before she crossed, her slippers scuffing over the concrete. “Callum, what’s going on?” she demanded but paused when she took in the state I was in. “Are you… wet?”

  “Soaked,” I answered. “Can we go inside? Please?”

  I still thought someone might be watching me, even now, and I’d feel much better with several walls between me and the outside world.

  “Of course.” She looked like she wanted to ask me what was going on again, but she held off when she saw the rather wild look in my eyes, beckoning for me to follow her to her flat instead. She typed in a code at the front door, and then we went up the stairs and down the hall to her door which she’d left unlocked to meet me.

  Rayla let me inside, and I immediately slid the chain into place and flipped the lock under the handle. Only then, did I let out the breath I’d been holding since I left the burning houseboat. I didn’t move from the doormat though, not wanting to drip water across her floor.

  Rayla lived in a one-bedroom flat, the walls covered in posters for bands, candles stacked on every conceivable surface. An island separated the kitchen from the rest of the space, and a large sofa dominated much of the living room floor, seated opposite a large television. The bathroom was directly across from where I stood, though even from here, I could tell that it was tiny. The whole place smelled like cinnamon from the candle burning on the coffee table, and I cringed a little as I looked at it, remembering the other, much stronger flames that I’d just escaped.

  “Can I use your shower?” I asked. “I’m freezing.” I toed my boots off one by one, socks squelching, so I took those off, too, my toes pallid and wrinkled against the dark mat. I could see the water pooled in my boots, and I was rather surprised that there wasn’t a little fish in there, too.

  “Sure. Why are you wet?” Rayla asked. She started across the flat and opened a wardrobe to dig out a fresh towel for me.

  “I took an unscheduled dip in the ocean,” I said dryly. I saw the waves closing over my head, saw the fire sparkle up above like red and yellow gemstones, felt myself sink deeper and deeper. Again, I wondered if the Kraken had gotten out alive.

  “My last boyfriend left a pair of pyjamas here and never came back for them. I don’t know if they’ll fit you, but I’m sure they’re better than what you’ve got on now.” Rayla clutched the white towel to her chest as she looked at me.

  “That would be great. Thank you.” I hesitated, running a hand through my hair, squishing a long stream of water out of it. “I’m sorry for dropping in on you like this. I didn’t really know where else to go.”

  “Why don’t you get yourself warmed up, and then you can tell me all about it?” Rayla suggested. “I’ll make some tea. How does that sound?”

  I nodded a couple of times, dripping water on her floor. “Sure. Thanks.”

  I squished awkwardly across the flat, leaving a wet trail behind me despite my best efforts, and she handed me the towel, disappearing into her bedroom for a second to retrieve the pyjamas. I shut myself into the bathroom and began to strip off my wet clothes. I had to peel each piece off, shivering as the air hit my cold skin, laying as much of my clothing out by the radiator as I could. I cranked up the shower as high as it would go, and once steam was billowing about the room, I stepped inside, shuddering as the hot stream hit my back.

  It took a long while before I could feel the heat properly. It was like it was coming through several layers of cloth, but eventually, it breached the chill barrier around my skin and began to warm me up. I was colder than I had been boating across the ocean to rescue Finn Wair in the middle of the night, and that was saying something, since we’d been out there for four hours or more.

  When I finally felt sufficiently warmed, I shut the water off and towelled myself down, stepping into the pyjamas that Rayla had provided. The trousers were two inches too short but nice and thick, and the shirt was definitely too small, straining at the shoulders. I hung my wet clothes up as best I could and left the bathroom.

  Rayla met me on the sofa with a blanket and a steaming mug of tea, and I gratefully lowered my aching body to the cushions, accepting the cup with a smile. The first sip burned my lips, but it was a good sort of burn, one that let me know I was still alive. It had been a close thing for a while there.

  “Spill,” Rayla said, and for a second, my sluggish brain thought I’d accidentally sloshed tea out of the mug. “Tell me why you’ve shown up on my doorstep looking like a drowned rat.”

  “I feel like a drowned rat,” I admitted. I slicked my hair back so it wouldn’t flop in my face as it dried. “I think someone just tried to kill me.”

  Rayla’s mouth dropped open, and she set her own mug down before she could spill it on herself. “What? Are you okay? I mean, obviously you’re okay, you’re sitting right beside me, but are you okay?”

  “I’m not hurt, if that’s what you mean.” I wasn’t quite sure if I was okay in the head yet, because I could still feel the paranoia clamoring for attention, demanding that I check out the window for any sign of a stalker. “I went to meet with someone who I thought might have information about my father’s disappearance.”

  Rayla’s brow furrowed with confusion since she didn’t know a jot about the confusing jumble of threads that was my family situation.

  “He left when I was in uni,” I explained quickly. “My mum thinks it had to do with his work. My sister thinks it involves the Loch Ness Monster… don’t ask… and for a long time, I just thought he was a simple good-for-nothing. My sister found an old photo of his where it looks like someone was attacking him. We learned that he was supposed to meet with some hacker right before he disappeared.” I didn’t tell her the hacker’s name. Maybe if she didn’t know, she wouldn’t get drawn into all this.

  “I got a message from said hacker asking to meet, so I went to the address, spoke with her, and then someone set the houseboat on fire with us inside and tried to shoot at us when we jumped into the water. We got separated in the escape.
I don’t know if she made it out.” I felt horribly guilty leaving the Kraken behind, especially since she was injured, but that didn’t negate the fact that I worried she’d been in on the attack.

  “Oh my God, Callum,” Rayla said and put her hand on my knee. The blanket and my trouser leg separated us, but I still felt the heat coming off her skin. “Why didn’t you go to the police station or the hospital or something?”

  “That would have been the smart thing to do,” I said with a sharp little laugh. “I just--” My eyes darted towards the window again. I couldn’t help it. “Do you have some rice? My phone is probably buggered, but I should at least try to resurrect it.” Unless it was bugged. I shook the thought away. That was not a rabbit hole I wanted to go down, even as the ground around its dark maw crumbled beneath my feet, threatening to spill me into its depths despite my best effort.

  “Yeah, of course.” Rayla looked a little shocked at my sudden shift in conversation, but she unfolded her legs and padded into the kitchen while I grabbed my waterlogged phone. She poured a bunch of rice into a bag for me, and I dropped the device in, sealing it up and giving the whole thing a good shake so that the phone was completely covered. I left it on the counter to hopefully dry out, along with my wallet, keys, and everything else in my pockets. I didn’t have high hopes.

  I bypassed the sofa and wound up by the window, twitching the curtains open so I could peer outside and make sure the darkening street was still empty. A black car rolled past the building slowly, and I eyed it until it turned the corner and disappeared. My own vehicle seemed like a glaring beacon underneath the streetlight.

  “Do you want to spend the night?” Rayla asked.

  “I don’t want to bother you. I should be heading home,” I murmured. Not that I intended to go to my flat. I’d swing another hotel room.

  Rayla appeared behind me and put her hand on my back, and though her touch was light, the muscle there still twitched at the contact. “At least stay until your clothes are dry,” she said, reading the uncertain crawl in my voice. “I’ll hang them up for you.”

  Rayla bundled everything up into a great, wet heap and disappeared into the bathroom. It would take them a while to dry, and I rather hoped she had a tumble dryer, but at least I didn’t have to leave just yet.

  To calm my nerves, I sat on the floor beside the coffee table and went through the contents of my pockets, making sure everything was dry and in one piece.

  I jumped when Rayla came back into the living, more than half-expecting some masked figure to step into the flat. “Sorry,” she said. She still had my coat in her hands. “I put everything on the towel rack, but this wouldn’t fit. Figure it probably needs dry cleaning anyway.”

  “I forgot about that.” My thighs protested as I stood and helped her to hang the heavy coat up in the bathroom as best we could. It would probably take three days to dry. The sharp scent of brine wafted off it, and I remembered its weight in the water, dragging me ever downwards.

  “How about dinner?” Rayla suggested, and her words were like a line splashing down from above to hoist me back above the water’s surface.

  “I’m ravenous,” I agreed, and we went back into the living room to order a Chinese from a place around the corner which Rayla claimed was the best in the city. We chatted while we waited for the food to arrive, sticking to softer, lighter things like Rayla’s recent trip to Edinburgh and her desire to do one of those walking tours of England. The delivery driver texted her when they were outside, and she held up a finger for me to wait right there while she hurried downstairs to pick it up. I’d sorted through the damp contents of my wallet while we talked, which I now picked up to make space for the food, leaving fifteen quid out to cover my half of the meal.

  Rayla reappeared a minute later, juggling a large plastic bag in one arm. Rayla insisted that Chinese take-away had to be shared so I set the cartons out on the coffee table while she went to the kitchen for plates. She offered me a bottle of mixed berry cider which was a bit sweet for my taste, but I accepted anyways, wishing she had something stronger but knowing that would only end badly in my current state of mind.

  “Okay, okay,” Rayla said after we’d doled out our first plates of food. “I have a very serious question for you. If you could have any superpower, what would it be?”

  “Right now it would be to breathe underwater,” I said, and Rayla laughed, the sound like a chime in a foggy night. I cracked a smile, too, fishing around my plate with my chopsticks for another piece of chicken. “How about you?”

  “Flight, easily.” Rayla grinned, half of it covered by the mouth of her cider bottle as she took a sip. “How mad is Fletcher after your prank today?”

  “I’m sure she’s plotting her revenge as we speak,” I said. “Worth it though.”

  “You’ll have to keep me in the loop. The four of us had a prank war on April Fool’s Day a year or two ago. It got heated.” Her smile turned just a little sad like blue food colouring dropped into a glass of water. “It’s odd, thinking about how we’ll never make new memories together.” Her voice cracked, and I reached out to take her hand, squeezing her fingers gently. We sat together in silence for a few minutes before she sniffed and let go, rubbing at her eyes before she picked her chopsticks back up.

  Once we were finished eating, I helped her clean up, though that mostly involved dumping the dishes in the sink and the empty cartons in the rubbish. Rayla checked her watch, and she went to retrieve my clothes, returning them to me dry and warm enough, and smelling only a little of the ocean. “I suppose I should go,” I said somewhat reluctantly, eyes flicking towards the door.

  We were leaning against the backside of the kitchen counter, standing closer than was actually necessary, and Rayla only stepped in closer as I spoke, my bundle of clothes the only barrier between us.

  “You don’t have to,” she said and placed her blazing fingers on my bare arm, looking into my face with wide, warm eyes.

  I set the roll of clothes on the counter so I could cup her cheek with my hand, and we leaned in together, until our breath mingled and our lips touched. Her hand tangled in my borrowed shirt, and she drew me towards her bedroom. I followed willingly, leaving behind the last of the ocean's cold embrace in favor of hers.

  Fourteen

  The next morning, I wake up slowly, sluggishly, swimming up from the depths of sleep in a luxurious sort of way, held down by the hot water bottle of an arm across my chest. I blinked blearily, unsure of where I was for just a moment until Rayla’s ceiling light wavered into existence up above me.

  She was still asleep. I could feel the gentle rise and fall of her breath against my side. I didn’t move, not wanting to disturb her. It was the sort of moment that I wished could stretch on forever, but not even the steady peace could keep out the torrent of nagging thoughts at the back of my mind. Yesterday’s attack. My stalker. My father and his conspiracy. The huge case I was right in the middle of. Why did these things have to happen all at once? Couldn’t they piece themselves out a little better?

  I must have shifted or made a sound or something because Rayla squirmed and woke up, lifting her head to smile at me, her chin digging into my arm. “Hey,” she mumbled sleepily. Her eyelids were heavy, drooping back towards closed with every blink.

  “Hey,” I replied.

  She tipped her head down, her thick hair tickling my neck, and I heard her sigh. “You have to go, don’t you?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. I didn’t want to. A cocoon had formed around us, built of warm blankets and tangled limbs, but even it couldn’t fully protect me from my looming responsibilities. There were things to do, people to question, murderers to bring to justice.

  Rayla clung to me a little tighter for a minute, trapping me within the bed, but eventually relinquished her hold, rolling to the side with a dramatic sigh. “Fine, I suppose. I’ll make coffee.” She untangled herself from the duvet and pulled on her dressing gown, padding out of the bedroom, headed for the kitchen.
“Here you go,” she called and a moment later, flung yesterday’s clothes through the open door.

  They missed the bed, and I had to finally climb out into the open air to retrieve them, moving slowly as every single one of yesterday’s aches returned to me. I found a huge bruise on my bicep, easily the size of my fist, but I had no idea where it’d come from.

  I meandered into the kitchen to check on my phone. It had sat in the bag of rice overnight but wouldn’t turn on. I plugged it in to see if that would somehow help. I wasn’t ready to leave right away. I was still waiting on my phone, and there was coffee to drink, after all. Rayla and I sat on the stools by the island and chatted. Her smile was the sort of thing that seemed quiet at first until you looked at a second time and realized it was the brightest thing in the world.

  Eventually, though, it was time to go. My coat was still quite damp, so I hung it over my arm as I stared down at my boots with mild disgust. I’d dumped them out and leaned them up against the radiator to dry out, but I could tell that it hadn’t really worked, the leather still saturated and unlikely to dry anytime soon. Rayla unplugged my phone and passed the dead brick to me. “Sorry,” she said.

  “I’ll get work to buy me a new one,” I said and winked, pocketing it.

  Rayla kissed me goodbye, hand lingering on my cheek, and I let myself out of her flat, winding my way back to my car. Now that I was alone, some of that paranoia crept back in, and I had to check all around the vehicle as well as under it to make sure there were no tricks or traps.

  I wanted to go home to change my wet boots and ocean scented clothes, but my heartbeat jumped up a thousand notches each time I tried to turn and head in that direction, so I decided that the extra pair of trainers I kept at my desk would have to do.

  I left my coat laid out across the backseat with the windows cracked so that it could maybe finish drying without also stinking up my entire car. I shivered in my red shirt as I headed for the door, and the air conditioning inside certainly didn’t help the pervasive chill in my bones. I’d stayed at Rayla’s longer than I meant to, so it was nearing noon as I hurried towards my desk, hoping no one would stop me for a chat.