Tuesday, June 12, 2012

Dead Rite chapter 113.01


When the day had brightened enough for White to see a cigarette butt against the darker grey of the tarmac, he reached inside the car to turn off the ignition. The radio died, leaving the forest in silence. He held up his hand, stopping Peters from speaking just as the sergeant drew a breath. “Hear that?”

Peters tilted his head. He reminded White of a dog his uncle had once owned, too many years ago for comfort. It would have the same expression his sergeant was wearing now. The thought made him want to smile but he quickly censored himself.

Peters shook his head. “I can't hear anything.”

“Exactly, sergeant. Where are the birds? A beautiful morning like this, you'd expect birds.”

“Maybe they're still asleep, sir, like I should be.” Peters looked up into the leaf canopy. “This is where we found the last body. Perhaps the noise of our scene of crime teams drove them all away.”

“Perhaps.” White looked down the road toward Salisbury. “Where's Magelight from here?”

“Over that way.” Peters pointed back toward Laverstone but off to the left. They've got a visitor's centre on the Oxford Road, I think. The actual facility is underground.”

“And who knows how far that extends, eh? You watch, one day the whole town will disappear into the tunnels beneath it.”

Peters laughed. “The fairy tunnels? That's a myth, sir. You've been reading those pamphlets again, haven't you?”

“What pamphlets?”

“Those ones your lady friend puts out in her shop. Meinwen Jones.”

“She's not my 'lady friend', Peters. She'd just a friend who happens to be a lady and With whom I occasionally consult when she has some unique insights into a case.”

“If you say so, sir.”

“And you can stop smirking, too.”

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