What Will Burn by James Oswald (latest novels to read .TXT) 📗

medium. Had it been the winter, and all that trouble with the refugees? He shook away the thought as he took her coat, marvelling at the weight of the thing, then led her through to the library.

‘Emma out?’ Rose asked, after she’d settled herself on to the sofa.

‘In a manner of speaking. She’s gone to Africa to help identify bodies in a mass grave.’

Madame Rose raised one perfectly sculpted eyebrow, then gave the lightest of shrugs. ‘As long as she’s happy.’

‘From the emails and texts, I’d say so. It was a bit of a godsend Professor Turner showing up when she did. Em needed a change of scene.’

‘Professor Turner?’ Madame Rose tilted her head slightly, as if shaking loose a memory. ‘Oh yes, the forensic archaeologist. She was a student of your grandmother’s, I seem to recall. I didn’t know she was back in Edinburgh. And you, Tony. Have you been busy?’

The question came as something of a surprise. McLean was used to Madame Rose knowing everything, and yet the way she asked seemed entirely genuine.

‘Actually I’ve been on enforced leave for the best part of three months. There was a bit of a mess in the summer. You might have seen it on the news?’

‘I must confess, like dear Emma I have been away travelling myself. Only just got back to the city today. I’ve been catching up with a few important people and you are quite high up on that list.’

‘That might explain why you never warned me about the band of cannibals hiding out in the Moorfoot Hills then.’ McLean explained about the case, enjoying the look of surprise on the medium’s face. It wasn’t often he caught her off guard.

‘The Brotherhood of the Rose Well? I thought they had all died out a long time ago. A footnote in the arcane histories. Nothing more.’ She paused a moment, eyes unfocused, before coming back to herself with a small shudder. ‘How strange.’

‘And you?’ McLean asked to the silence that followed. ‘Your travels went well? Did you go anywhere interesting?’

Madame Rose smiled at that. ‘Oh, Tony. Everywhere I go is interesting. How could it not be, with me there? But yes, my travels went well. Alas, I return to a city that is . . . less happy.’

‘How so? I mean, I’ve been out of the loop a bit, but I’m sure I’d have heard.’

Madame Rose shook her head slowly. ‘Not the sort of thing Police Scotland would be expected to deal with. At least, not directly. The fallout? Well, I have a horrible feeling that will come soon enough.’

McLean pushed down his frustration at the medium. She had a habit of skirting around the subject, couching her words and generally being annoyingly enigmatic.

‘Anything more solid than vague hints?’ he asked.

‘Oh, Tony. You wouldn’t believe me if I told you, and I know it annoys you when I speak of dark forces and the balance of things. It is out of kilter all the same, though, whether you believe it or not. Something has upset the natural order. I fear it will be up to us to put it right. Again.’

‘I’d love to help, really. But I’m only just finding my way back into the new order at work. I’m no longer a DCI. Still a cat slave, though.’ McLean nodded at the creature as Mrs McCutcheon’s cat wandered into the room. She walked straight up to Rose, tail held high, then sat in a most un-catlike way and stared at the medium. The silence held for what was probably only a few seconds, but felt like hours. Almost as if the two of them were communicating in some telepathic manner. Rose was the one to break the moment.

‘I have a feeling you’ll be busy soon enough, Tony. With the job that is. Cat slave is for life, I’m afraid.’ Rose pressed her large hands to her knees and levered herself to her feet. ‘Well, it’s been lovely seeing you again, but I’ve other folk to get round before the night is out, so I’d best be getting on.’

‘Can I not get you something first? Tea perhaps?’ He turned to the bookcase and the secret compartment where all the good whisky hid. ‘Something stronger?’

Madame Rose shook her head slightly. ‘Perhaps another time. I hear you have some fifty-year-old Ardbeg in there. I could tell you a story or two about the head distiller who made that dram.’

Mrs McCutcheon’s cat stood up abruptly. Tail high, and twitching a little this time, she sauntered out of the room and Madame Rose followed as if she was being led. The cat stopped at the front door, clearly expecting McLean to do the menial work. He helped the medium back into her heavy winter coat and handed her the fur-lined hat that had gone with it.

‘It’s good to be back,’ she said as she took it from him. ‘And good to see you’re safe. Give Emma my love when you speak to her later.’

When he opened the door to let her out, a different taxi was already waiting. McLean helped Madame Rose into the back, then watched her leave, wondering all the while how she managed to pull off her little magic stage show. Back in the kitchen he retrieved his beer and picked up his phone from the table. He’d been planning on making the call, but Rose couldn’t have known that, surely?

He tapped the screen, then raised the phone to his ear, listening to the oddly foreign tones as the call spanned continents. Finally it was answered, a slightly weary voice too far away.

‘Hey, Tony.’

‘Hey, Em. How’s it going?’

9

Gary knows he’s out of his depth when a lad a bit younger than him comes up and offers to take his coat. Sure, the hotel’s posh in that old-fashioned way that makes him feel uncomfortable, but it makes him wonder how much money this Tommy Fielding’s going to charge for his services, too. The last lawyer wasn’t cheap, and he cost Gary his daughter as