Page 31 of The Burnt
Charlie grabbed everything he needed and ran down to his car. As he waited for it to warm up, he texted Declan.
Heading out early. Don’t forget it’s the annual Carrie/Charlie get-outta-town weekend. See you on Monday!
By the way, I had a visit from a promising client. Appears to be wealthy! His name’s Simon Griffin. He’s looking for his missing son, Milo. Coincidence? Report is on your desk for when you get back.
Smooches,
Me.
Chapter Twelve
Charlie hadn’t slept well over the weekend. His slumber had been disrupted with dream after dream of people rising from the dead and walking around the office. He clearly remembered one ghoul in the kitchenette—a short young man wearing an old-fashioned black suit. His hands and feet were charred, and his face was a blotchy mess of blue and purple. He was missing an ear, as well as the left half of his face. He wore a name tag—Dave. In the dream, Dave had been trying to work the espresso machine. He had turned to Charlie and asked if he’d prefer a latte or a cortado. Charlie had woken up in a cold sweat. He wasn’t getting back to sleep, so he got up, closed the door on Carrie’s room then tip-toed to the bathroom. He showered and dressed, making sure that he didn’t wake her up.
This morning, ghosts were not the only thing on his mind. Today was the first day back for the legendary Mrs B and he wanted her to like him.
He headed into work, making a pit stop at Declan’s favourite health food shop, Chia Country—formerly Wheat Germ World, and before that, Pulse Planet. Charlie found none of the names compelling. In general, he disliked health food, but it was open twenty-four hours for anyone who needed a beet juice and celeriac smoothie—bee pollen extra—early in the morning. He bought a large Styrofoam cup of the vile concoction Declan liked to drink, then continued on his way to work.
Charlie parked the car in the lot behind the building and made his way to the front entrance of Gwen’s café.He lookedup. There, just to the left of her sign, carved into the sandstone lintel, were the words ‘Hallowell Brothers, Under’.
How could I not have seen that before?
He stepped into Gwen’s café.
“Morning, Charlie. You’re here early,” Gwen said.
Charlie stared bleary-eyed into the display case. He was having trouble focusing.
“You all right?” she asked.
“I’m sorry. Didn’t get much sleep last night.”
“Oh dear,” she said. “I have just the thing for you.”
Gwen plucked a couple of custard-filled Portuguese tarts from the display case and popped them gently into a bag.
“There,” she said, smiling. “There’s plenty of protein in the custard. You can pretend they’re good for you.”
Charlie also bought an americano for Declan and a double latte for himself then made his way up to the office, carefully balancing his load. He’d stuffed Declan’s health drink into a pocket, clutched the bag of pastries between his teeth and stacked the two cups of coffee, leaving one hand free to open the door. If he walked into the reception area and found the ghost of a body swinging from the rafters he’d just leave the mess on the floor and walk out.
Charlie managed to open the door and made his way to the alarm panel…which had not been turned on. He’d have to talk to Declan about that.
As he headed to his new, probably haunted desk, he passed the stack of files he had left on the coffee table. He would put them away after he’d delivered Declan his drinks.
Charlie paused. Something was wrong. Everything was quiet. Declan always started his day by working out first thing in the morning. Charlie’s pulse started to race.What if…
Charlie crept up the stairs far enough to peer into the apartment. Declan lay on his stomach, not moving, his headcontorted to one side. Charlie waited for any sign that Declan was breathing. A gentle snort confirmed that Declan was still alive.
Charlie sat the coffees on the kitchen counter then pulled the health food drink out of his pocket. He opened the lid. The drink smelled repulsive. He snapped the lid back on, fished out a straw from his other pocket and drove it through the sticker on the top.
Maybe it tastes better than it smells.
He took a tiny sip and gagged.
Declan began to stir. Charlie moved closer. The sheets on the bed had been pushed aside exposing Declan’s bare right leg and muscular buttock. Charlie considered bending down to kiss that mountain of muscle, but he had learned not to startle Declan when he was asleep. A week ago, an amorous kiss to Declan’s inner thigh had resulted in Charlie being propelled through the air, luckily into a pile of laundry. Declan wasn’t used to having someone around, and in his half-asleep state, had taken the tender caress as an attempt on his life. He was getting better with time, but it was clear that Declan had to be woken up very gently.
Before Charlie woke him up, he leaned in close and said, “Good morning, man I love. Are you awake?”
One eye of the muscled mountain opened. “Mumph.”
