frequently'. She sent her message and then logged out. Everything was ready.
She poured herself a drink and then paced the bland, overly modern flat, before eventually stopping by the window and looking out over the water that glinted in the moonlight. She knew she should run. Get out of the country. Go and live in some warmer climate and sit by a pool all day.
That was probably the sensible thing to do, but she needed to know exactly what the situation was first. And anyway, she felt like being a little daring.
She smiled and let a mouthful of brandy burn her mouth before she swallowed it. It made her feel alive again. She would go abroad soon enough, but not to laze around in the sunshine. Maybe she'd set up a business of her own. Her eyes hardened. She could turn a hobby to a profit. Everybody wanted someone else dead, and she was more than happy to make them that way.
The sea was black and endless beneath the night sky. From behind the closed sliding door, it was also silent. There was no gentle splashing of waves as they rolled over each other to spill in surf upon the stony beach. Suzie stared, and to her there was no nature in that eternity of darkness.
She shivered. It was like death out there, waiting to reclaim her. Her eyes were tired from the hours spent concentrating on the small computer screen, but she didn't want to sleep. She had a horrible feeling it would try to take her while she slept.
She didn't like her fear. She was death. She had nothing to fear from that darkness.
She wondered about perhaps drinking some
more until she finally passed out, but instead of walking to the kitchen, she found that she'd headed to the hall and was pulling on a coat. Her heart thumped and she smiled as the terrible dimension behind her eyes cooled her insides. The surprise she'd felt at its presence was fading and, as it looked out through her, she turned inwards to explore it. She gasped. This wasn't the nothingness of death. This was no empty, black non-existence.
This was... she couldn't find the words for the sudden dread and terror she felt. Evil? Was that
it? It was as close as she could come.
She pulled back and took a moment to compose herself. Whatever it was, it had brought her back to life.
She smiled as she passed the mirror in the hallway. Her eyes swirled slightly and she caught a glimpse of what others would see. A glimpse of the horror of that strange dimension. Her eyes were a gateway and she was death. Energy pulsed inside her. It was hungry. If she fed it some more, then perhaps she wouldn't need to sleep at all.
Her heart raced and she gripped the knife. The excitement she felt had nothing to do with the need to feed the beast within, and everything with her own desire to kill. The front door clicked shut behind her and she rode the quiet lift down to street level. She was smiling when she stepped out into the night streets, and wondered, idly, when murder had turned from a practical necessity, to something she enjoyed so much?
*
Detective Inspector Tom Cutler couldn't sleep.
Something was bothering him. Lots of things were bothering him, in fact. It wasn't just the man in the long greatcoat that he had seen in that weird moment in the bar. That did keep itching at his head - especially the coat - but it was more than that. That was like a side show to the main event and he couldn't figure out why. It was something to do with the poor dead woman. Something to do with her eyes filled him with a quiet dread. The greatcoat. The eyes. There was something there that he just couldn't connect; or something that his brain was refusing to connect.
As his brain whirred, he'd given up any attempt at sleep at around 1 a.m. He'd got out of bed, made a cup of tea, and then turned the TV on. There was bound to be some sport showing somewhere on the millions of channels he had and, unlike most men, if there was one thing that was likely to cure his insomnia, it was watching sport. He'd found some
Anderson Cooper, Gloria Vanderbilt