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

offer, flattered that they accepted her company. She had been poised to leave, not wanting to bother them unnecessarily. They all went through to the kitchen, where Patience asked Hilaire how she planned to find Maurice. That was a good question.

“I’ve been a little restricted in what I can do with... the name is a starting point.” Hilaire had wanted to try and find out who conducted the service, unable to get out and about to probe that. Maurice’s name was a better lead as that was who she really needed to find. “I have a question for you, actually. Who conducted the service?”

“Sorry, I don’t remember his name. I don’t even know if he said it.”

“Was he... Was he a Christian minister, that’s what I’m trying to say?”

“Yes. I didn’t get the venue either. Do you not think that’s a little much?” Patience asked the Love Phantom’s lover, who was being generous with the portions.

“I can replenish our supplies tomorrow after work.”

“What do you do?” Hilaire asked keenly.

“Dance and strip.”

“Oh. Okay.”

“I collect information too. Sit with them after – with my clothes back on at that point.”

Patience proposed an idea over lunch. She told Hilaire of her ability, downplaying it but grateful that it had led her to Chablis (Hilaire finally learning her name, or alias at least) and the Love Phantom.

Chablis chipped in with, “We have no clue who that could be either. That spirit knew of the Love Phantom, and very few know him as that, and my address and of his involvement with me.”

“My sister’s power was psychometry. She could read the history of people and items. Mental powers are just as precious as more ‘showy’ ones. I loved to hear her readings.” Hilaire loved the purity of her sister’s power but wouldn’t have swapped it for her own. She’d been timid and reserved, held in check by her domineering brother. Her power gave her mental strength in two ways, and ultimately her freedom.

“The spirits led me to my new friends and saviours. I can try and see if they lead us to Maurice,” Patience offered.

“I don’t expect you to come and search for him. They’re still after you.”

“I’ll start now. I’m happy to try, I want to, but don’t build your hopes up...”

Hilaire wished for Patience’s sake that she could find something about Maurice in the pages that flowed through her hand, Patience tearing a page off and passing it to her as she carried on writing on the next page. There was nothing she could really apply specifically to him. Her gift was certainly not useless, however. There was a warning coming through. One portion of handwriting detailed a planned arson. There was a shorthand to it, as though the spirit was explaining this to someone who already knew what was to come – or what had already happened. ‘The Reichstag fire shows the way – we kill some in the fire, blame it on others and kill them as heroes. At least 87 will die.’ That figure was too specific to be a coincidence. An arson attack as vengeance for Florence’s victims, with innocent scapegoats to be murdered for starting the fire. ‘Hail César no more’. That wasn’t the usual way of spelling Caesar for this context.

Hilaire asked Patience, whose flow had started to ebb, to read over the handwriting of this conspirator. She baulked at this. Writing it out was one thing, reading it another. She reluctantly complied, Chablis reading it over her shoulder. Chablis placed her finger on the misspelt Caesar before she said, “Oh yeah, that wouldn’t mean anything to her. He’s called César. My lover, the Love Phantom.”

“Nobody should technically have it in for him,” Hilaire said. She knew that Florence, who claimed to have no feelings for him whatsoever, was fascinated by him. Which was the worst news possible, her fascination like a cat with a mouse, but she was not indifferent, her plans to free him stemming from this. “That sounded so cynical, sorry. I do believe in his power.”

“Maybe spirits are immune to it?” Patience suggested. “But what fire connected to him would kill that many people?”

“I know where,” Chablis said. “It’s the when that’s going to be difficult.”

“Tell me where and I’ll go there,” Hilaire offered selflessly. They were getting on great, and it felt genuine and triggered that old nostalgia, the positive aspect of resistance.

“If you’re willing to do that, I’m willing to look for Maurice Cassard...” Chablis said.

“Shopkeeper!” Florence said, startling the lot of them by knocking loudly on the wall as she presented herself. “What are you buying here, Hilaire?”

“Nobody is buying anything. We’re making an alliance,” Hilaire said.

“You said you were going to the shops.”

“We’ve made progress. Just wait in the sitting room, I’ll join you shortly.”

“You can stop with those dumb cow eyes,” Florence snapped at Chablis, whose stare said it all. “Yes, I let myself in. It’s not your house either, is it?”

“No, but we were invited.”

“Your lover’s balls are in the gloved hand of a Nazi agent right now while you are eating... what is that – cabbage soup?”

“His balls are as safe as the rest of him.” Chablis did not sound as sure of this as usual, the reference from the spirit unsettling her. “And it’s spinach soup.”

“That’ll be about all he’ll be able to eat right now. I’m a cold-hearted bitch, but you... Ten days they’ve had him.”

“We’re aware of that, Florence, we currently have some other issues to take care of, which you can help me with, and we’ll look into liberating the Love Phantom after that, if the Foundation wants us to do so,” Hilaire said.

“She never will, fair-weather fuck that she is.”

Chablis wasn’t about to prove her love to please Florence, and her failure to do so was only going to antagonise Florence further. It was hard to tell who Florence was more jealous of – the Love Phantom’s lover or his interrogator. Hilaire asked Chablis for the address she believed was at