Red Rainbow by G Johanson (top books of all time TXT) 📗

a bloodbath. They had generally taken the subtle approach. Florence did not seem compatible with his modus operandi – and there was the issue over the backlash to her atrocity.

“If you think it’s a bad idea, just forget it,” Marcella said, having no strong feelings either way.

“It’s a hollow victory if we become like them, that’s all. I’m not saying she’s wrong. I don’t know. We’ll have to do something soon, that’s all I know.” He had been playing golf with a German general recently who had been veiled in his comments, which made a lot more sense now. Repercussions were being planned, and his manipulative friendships and puppet-mastering would only go so far.

Chapter 7

The Florence Forum

Patience had little time to get used to her new refuge. The Love Phantom came for them in the morning. He had his own key, which he used to let himself in. Patience heard him arrive in the early hours, having not slept a wink, and was able to hear most of what he said to Marcella. A spirit had led Patience here. The apartment was compromised. Marcella was resistant at first but ultimately gave in, love phantoms usually getting their own way. Patience agreed with him, though opted not to chirp in with this through the paper-thin wall. She’d stayed fully clothed to be ready for anything. With no belongings with her bar photos of her parents (she’d had to make it look like she was routinely leaving the house), she was ready to go when Marcella came in to tell her the plan. She still feigned surprise, with skills that were not in Charlotte’s league. Marcella packed a small bag while the Love Phantom went to the car. He instructed them to come outside in 20 minutes and he’d be outside the front.

“Do you not want to take more?” Patience asked Marcella as they watched the clock. She had been invited into Marcella’s bedroom while she packed and saw that she hadn’t packed a spare skirt, meaning she’d be stuck in the same black skirt she was wearing for as long as she was away. Bar a spare blouse (and some personal effects, makeup and such), she only packed lingerie – and not the sort of lingerie you would wear to go and see the doctor in, lingerie to be kept firmly under wraps for a select audience.

“I’ll be coming back,” Marcella said resolutely. Patience could relate to that. It wasn’t the nicest apartment in the world, but it was her home.

Patience wondered how the Love Phantom was going to drive with the mask on (he’d be able to see, it would just look suspicious). Sensibly, he didn’t. He parked a little ahead of the house so that they had to walk towards the rear of the car. His elbow rested on the window, his hand covering most of the side of his face. She caught a glimpse and a little more in the mirror as he drove. This confirmed what she thought she’d seen yesterday regarding his eyes, that the mask did not have some internal filter. One green eye, one brown – he’d be unusual enough just for this without his supposed power. She didn’t have a sudden urge to wrest Marcella from the front passenger seat and take her place. Either she was immune as she suspected she would be, or his power was not quite as powerful as he thought. She had belief in such things through her father and her exposure to Florence, she just wasn’t sure about the Love Phantom. The name had sounded ominous, then she met him and realised she had nothing to fear from him.

Whatever he was and whatever he could or couldn’t do, she was deeply grateful for his help. He was putting himself out for her and putting himself and his lover at risk. They were breaching the curfew in driving around at four in the morning, making it to their destination a little after five when they were allowed to wander around their own city again. This looked a much better neighbourhood, by the riverside. He didn’t get out, Marcella knowing which house they were going to. She kissed him goodbye and Patience thanked him.

“Your thanks meant more before,” the Love Phantom said, driving off and leaving her baffled. He was sore about something. Their eyes had met once in the mirror – was he pissed that she’d looked at him? Patience asked Marcella what he had meant, and she told her not to worry about it. Marcella seemed in a mood too, her face like a smacked arse as she surveyed their top floor apartment. The veranda led out to a perfect view of the river, much better than the view from Marcella’s window, which was a back alley and an inaccessible fire escape.

Hilaire’s plan to find the other mourner was a failure so far. The plan had been to find the minister who ran the service and then find the mourner through him, only that great idea was easier said than done. Especially as they could not afford to be seen to be looking into this. This plan had to go on the back burner in any event when she spotted a wanted poster on her way from her first cleaning job to her second. Patience Condeh. The name meant nothing, but the face seemed to be a match for the girl she’d seen from a distance. It hadn’t been stuck up very well, the poster peeling off the window it had been affixed to, the wind blowing it away, to the surprise of a couple of onlookers, the day mild.

“Is that her?” Hilaire asked Florence upon returning home, showing her the poster she’d kept in her bag as she finished off her cleaning jobs.

“It is,” Florence affirmed with certainty. “Wanted, eh? Are we going to go and find her after dark?”

“Yes.” Hilaire felt they had no choice now. She’d hoped that