Page 1 of Storm of Bells
With BellsOn!
The death knell rangout with resounding finality. I raced forward, my heart pounding,my hands clenched into fists. Please! It couldn’t happen like this!It just couldn’t! I had to reach it in time, before—
Ba-dum ba-dum-ba-dum!
With deafening drums and brass, theblack-clad marching band rounded the corner and blocked thestreet.
Crap!
Screeching to an abrupt halt, I bent over,panting. On either side of me, everyone trying to cross the streetstopped and respectfully stepped back, removing their hats insympathy, as the bearers of the coffin appeared. I, for my part,snatched my hat off my head and hurled it to the ground infrustration. Bloody hell! Now the street was blocked! I was goingto be late for work!
Everyone said death waits for no man. But Iknew better. Mr Rikkard Ambrose waits for no man, and would demandI postpone my appointment with death till the weekend and take careof it in my free time.
Hm…I eyed the funeral processionthoughtfully.I wonder, is it socially acceptable to practicepole vaulting over coffins?
Probably not.
Fishing out my watch, I tapped my foot intime to the sombre music as the funeral procession passed by at abrain-meltingly slow pace. Two minutes…three…drat! Couldn’t theymove any faster? And why was that weeping woman at the frontinsisting on collapsing every few feet and sobbing onto her fellowmourners’ shoulders?
‘He’s deahahahaaad!’ Stumbling, she clutchedone of the innocent bystanders. ‘Deeaad!’
‘Ehem…yes ma’am.’ The elderly gentlemancleared his throat. ‘I can see that.’
‘Where will I ever f-find someone like h-himagain?’
‘Um…the graveyard?’
The woman abruptly stopped weeping, whackedhim with her fan and strode on. Mentally, I gave the gentleman ahigh five. Unfortunately, even though the woman in the lead wasmoving slightly faster now, the coffin in the middle of theprocession was only just passing by me.
Shielding my eyes from the sun, I peered downthe street, trying to make out how popular Mr Six Feet Under hadbeen. To judge by the mellifluous multitudes marching after thecoffin, including everything from musicians over funeral guests toseveral black, plumed carriages, I was going to be stuck here forquite a while. Unless…
‘’scuse me.’
Before anyone could shriek, I smiled at thecoffin bearers, ducked underneath their load and dashed across thestreet. Behind me, I heard a yelp, but I was already around thenearest corner. Yay! Coffin parkour number one finished!
Not slowing down for a minute, I took anotherturn, and another—and finally, there it was! The huge buildingtowered right in front of me, on the other side of the street:Empire House. Tallest building in this part of the city, place ofemployment for hundreds of unfortunate, oppressed, underpaid souls,home to a multinational financial and industrial empire, andheadquarters of my husband-to-be.
Who, by the way, still hadn’t given me araise.
Suppressing the eager leap of my heart in mychest at the thought of him (or possibly at the thought of araise), I dashed across the street and pushed open the front door.The patter of hundreds of busy little feet greeted me the moment Istepped inside. As always, people were rushing about, carryingcartons full of sample goods and stacks of documents. In the centreof the hall, like a particularly sallow-faced idol on the altar ofoverwork, sat Mr Pearson, the front desk clerk. Everything was justas always.
Except soon, all of this would be mine.
The thought made me slightly dizzy. Sure, inour deplorably chauvinistic world, a wife wouldn’t have real powerover all her husband’s money, as he had over hers—but then again, Iwouldn’t be a typical wife. I had lived and worked in a man’s worldfor over two years now, and I knew where to go and what to do toachieve what I wanted. Did that mean I could have actual influenceon what happened here? Did it mean I could give the employees herea day off, or even—God forbid—Christmas holidays?
The mere thought made me tremble in awe. Asdid the thought of what Mr Ambrose would do to me in retribution,incidentally. Grinning, I let my gaze wander through the hall. Ah,the possibilities…
Suddenly, a frown formed on my brow.
I had been wrong.
Everything in the hall wasnotjust asalways. A tarpaulin was covering a big chunk of the wall on theright side of the room, right next to the stairs. Now that my earshad gotten used to the hustle and bustle inside, I could make outmumbled conversation from behind the mysterious curtain. Eyesnarrowing, I took a step towards it—then stopped, as I felt a pairof eyes on me.
Turning, I gave Sallow-Face a great bigsmile.
‘Ah, Mr Pearson. So nice to see your cherubicfeatures again after such a long time!’
‘Mr Linton.’ He gave me about half a nod. Igave him back a quarter.
