Read Online Midnight's Angels - 03 by Tony Richards - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Tony Richards
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around.”
“Same here,” I replied. “So, did you win your battle?”
Despite the state that he was in, he formed his mouth into a tight, humorless smile.
“If you understood what’s come down on us this time … well, you wouldn’t ask a question like that.”
“Are you telling us you know what these things are?”
The man looked back at Levin.
“My guess is, the judge here has been trying to find out. And has come up with absolutely nothing. That would be a fairly accurate assessment?”
I was used to other people talking in strange riddles, but not him. We waited apprehensively. Those burning red pupils of his swept across us, taking in our sheer bewilderment. And then he tensed a little, managing to straighten slightly.
“Those things out there? They’re less than nothing. That is what we’re up against this time.”
CHAPTER 10
Standing in the darkness for so long, he’d felt as if the shadows were scouring at his edges, almost like he was dissolving. Thank God the daylight had come around. You could always rely on that, at least. Morning’s advance had made him whole again, and he was grateful.
Harrison Whitby glanced in the direction of the rising sun and squinted. It was not a good idea to look at it directly or too long. So he returned his attention to the house on Cartland Street, which he’d been guarding since the small hours. It was totally unchanged.
The light didn’t arrive all at once. It came stealing down the byways of Raine’s Landing like some stealthy, golden-colored cat. Wherever it touched it would disperse the gloom, and fresh colors became apparent. The trees along the street took on a crisper look. And the dwellings around him were transformed from lifeless slabs to proper homes.
And then it touched the residence in front of him. Started at the shingles on the roof first, and then tumbled down the eastern-facing wall.
What had looked for hours like a grim, forbidding building actually seemed to shrink a bit in size. That was psychological, he understood. The house just seemed a good deal less imposing now the sun was up. It turned out that the walls were a very pale green. There was a doormat on the porch with a round smiley face printed on it. Some children’s toys were scattered nearby, a couple of brightly colored balls and what looked like a broken G.I. Joe.
There were plants as well, in brightly glazed pots. Of what kind Harrison was not sure. His wife, Eudora, was the one who was into growing things, not him. He couldn’t tell a chrysanthemum from a cactus.
A window came open in a house across the street, creaking, making his gaze swing around. He’d not had to deal with the general public up until this point. But an old man’s head came poking out, its white hair tousled and its pale gray-blue eyes wide, like an owl’s. The guy took in the fact that there were uniformed men on his street, and seemed to wake up pretty quickly.
“Something happened to the Hermanns?”
Harrison gnawed at his moustache, wondering how to handle this. He had years of experience to fall back on, and finally opted for a soft but steady show of authority.
“We haven’t quite established that,” he called back. “If you could get back in, sir, please? At least until we’re certain what the problem is?”
The white head popped back straight away. But the intrusion, however brief, immediately set him thinking. Folk would start heading into work before a whole lot longer. Kids would start making their way to school. The homes around him would begin disgorging people, many of them passing by this very threshold.
And might they be in any danger? What exactly ought he do about it?
He glanced across at Lee Drake, which was little use. The man was staring into thin air, and seemed to be chewing on imaginary gum. He was an okay cop, but not what you’d call overly bright. Besides, Harrison was the senior officer here, and it was his decision.
He decided to call it in, then
“Same here,” I replied. “So, did you win your battle?”
Despite the state that he was in, he formed his mouth into a tight, humorless smile.
“If you understood what’s come down on us this time … well, you wouldn’t ask a question like that.”
“Are you telling us you know what these things are?”
The man looked back at Levin.
“My guess is, the judge here has been trying to find out. And has come up with absolutely nothing. That would be a fairly accurate assessment?”
I was used to other people talking in strange riddles, but not him. We waited apprehensively. Those burning red pupils of his swept across us, taking in our sheer bewilderment. And then he tensed a little, managing to straighten slightly.
“Those things out there? They’re less than nothing. That is what we’re up against this time.”
CHAPTER 10
Standing in the darkness for so long, he’d felt as if the shadows were scouring at his edges, almost like he was dissolving. Thank God the daylight had come around. You could always rely on that, at least. Morning’s advance had made him whole again, and he was grateful.
Harrison Whitby glanced in the direction of the rising sun and squinted. It was not a good idea to look at it directly or too long. So he returned his attention to the house on Cartland Street, which he’d been guarding since the small hours. It was totally unchanged.
The light didn’t arrive all at once. It came stealing down the byways of Raine’s Landing like some stealthy, golden-colored cat. Wherever it touched it would disperse the gloom, and fresh colors became apparent. The trees along the street took on a crisper look. And the dwellings around him were transformed from lifeless slabs to proper homes.
And then it touched the residence in front of him. Started at the shingles on the roof first, and then tumbled down the eastern-facing wall.
What had looked for hours like a grim, forbidding building actually seemed to shrink a bit in size. That was psychological, he understood. The house just seemed a good deal less imposing now the sun was up. It turned out that the walls were a very pale green. There was a doormat on the porch with a round smiley face printed on it. Some children’s toys were scattered nearby, a couple of brightly colored balls and what looked like a broken G.I. Joe.
There were plants as well, in brightly glazed pots. Of what kind Harrison was not sure. His wife, Eudora, was the one who was into growing things, not him. He couldn’t tell a chrysanthemum from a cactus.
A window came open in a house across the street, creaking, making his gaze swing around. He’d not had to deal with the general public up until this point. But an old man’s head came poking out, its white hair tousled and its pale gray-blue eyes wide, like an owl’s. The guy took in the fact that there were uniformed men on his street, and seemed to wake up pretty quickly.
“Something happened to the Hermanns?”
Harrison gnawed at his moustache, wondering how to handle this. He had years of experience to fall back on, and finally opted for a soft but steady show of authority.
“We haven’t quite established that,” he called back. “If you could get back in, sir, please? At least until we’re certain what the problem is?”
The white head popped back straight away. But the intrusion, however brief, immediately set him thinking. Folk would start heading into work before a whole lot longer. Kids would start making their way to school. The homes around him would begin disgorging people, many of them passing by this very threshold.
And might they be in any danger? What exactly ought he do about it?
He glanced across at Lee Drake, which was little use. The man was staring into thin air, and seemed to be chewing on imaginary gum. He was an okay cop, but not what you’d call overly bright. Besides, Harrison was the senior officer here, and it was his decision.
He decided to call it in, then
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