A dark shape dropped past the window. The vague shape of a black cloak billowed like wings. The figure floated to the ground then disappeared among the trees.
I stared through the window, wondering if I’d imagined it.
Then I remembered that I’d seen something similar happen before. Back in my flat – the last time I’d lived somewhere that hadn’t been provided by Silas or Six. I’d seen a dark shape then – whoever that was had dropped to the ground past my window and disappeared. Was it the same person? Was it the Vudrian hitman I’d spoken to before?
I watched, standing still at the window, barely daring to breath or blink.
Nothing. The figure didn’t reappear.
Somehow, that was enough. I had to know who they were and where they had gone. Couldn’t have them breaking into the house in the middle of the night and murdering us both in our beds.
Six was waiting for me at the bottom of the stairs.
“You saw something, didn’t you?” he said.
“I think so.”
He gave me a wary look.
“That means what you think you saw wasn’t normal.” His eyes darted around him – like he expected an attack any second. Then they trained on me – and my coat. They narrowed. “Where are you going?”
“For a walk?” I replied.
“Six hours later then you normally do.”
Trust him to not miss a thing.
“I just want to see if there’s anything or anyone out there,” I shrugged.
“Am I supposed to come with you?”
“What for?” I said. “If I did see what I think I saw, guns would be useless anyway.”
“I’ll keep a lookout here then,” he said.
He strode up the stairs. His bedroom door slammed and locked.
The next sound I heard was the sound of three handguns, two assault rifles and a sniper rifle being loaded and cocked. Six had said he kept weapons in a few safehouses in and around London. If this one was anything to go by, he’d amassed a stockpile of weapons to fight off a small army.
But then, that would depend on where the army was coming from.
“The boy’s twelve. How has he lived long enough to accomplish any of this?”