‘Yes,’ Beth said.
‘Then he could have got up and walked out.’ Roland said, raising his eyebrows and peering down at Beth.
‘He was far too weak for that,’ she said through gritted teeth. ‘I had to virtually carry him out of the room.’
‘Or so he had you believe.’ Amelia laughed. ‘He’s a clever man.’
‘We need to go,’ Beth said to Jonan. Dread settled in the pit of her stomach. She had left Bill alone with Doriel.
Jonan looked at her, and then nodded.
‘Run away, little boy,’ Amelia said.
Jonan stopped. He began to turn, but Beth took his hand and pulled him up the steps into the garden.
‘Forget her,’ she said. ‘I left Bill with Doriel.’
‘What?’ Jonan said. ‘When?’
‘Earlier,’ Beth said, opening the garden gate and ushering Jonan through. She pulled her coat tight around her against the sharp breeze as she began to run up the steep hill towards the centre of town. Jonan kept pace with her, the thud of his feet on the pavement somehow comforting. ‘Would you have known if there was something wrong with him?’ Beth said, pulling in air as she pushed her aching legs up the hill. ‘Would you have picked it up in his energy?’ An image of Doriel screaming flashed through her mind and she pushed faster.
‘Everyone has blind spots,’ Jonan said, before lapsing into silence. ‘Of course, Amelia might be lying.’
A pub door opened and the sound of the TV blared through the open space before the door slammed shut. Amelia’s voice seemed to come from every corner. Her voice carried on the wind, sending shivers down Beth’s spine.
Jonan pulled out his keys as they reached the wide, cobbled walkway outside The Third Eye. He pushed the door open, leaving it swinging on its hinges behind him as he took the stairs two at a time.
Beth shut the door and secured the shop using the key Jonan had left in the door. Then she followed him upstairs.
The living room was full of chaos and utterly silent. Chairs had been turned over and there were clothes and ornaments everywhere. Even the firewood had been tipped out of the basket.
Jonan stood in the middle of the room, his arms spread, eyes closed. He appeared serene, but stress showed in the creases around his eyes and on his forehead. He seemed to have aged in the few moments since she had seen him last. For the first time, she realised he had to be older than her twenty-six years.
‘Jonan,’ she whispered, stepping over to him and taking one of his hands. ‘Jonan, what happened. Are you alright?’
‘They’re gone,’ he said, his voice tight. ‘He took her.’
‘You don’t know that. Maybe they’ve just popped out?’
‘It’s after one in the morning.’
‘Maybe she took him back to hospital?’
‘No, there’s a lot of fear here, but I can’t see details. Not many people would be able to block me like this. Thank goodness Doriel has left markers for me.’
Beth sank onto the sofa and dropped her head into her hands. ‘So Amelia was right? And it’s all my fault. He seemed so nice.’
‘That’s the way it works sometimes.’ Jonan sighed.
‘So he did put himself in the cellar?’
‘I don’t know. The energy of it isn’t in here.’
Beth took a deep breath. ‘Jonan, I think we need to call the police.’
Jonan squeezed his eyes tight. ‘Would you mind? I need to see if I can reach Doriel telepathically.’
Beth picked up the phone and dialled 999.
‘Police, fire or ambulance?’ The voice sounded tired.
‘Police, please.’
Moments later Beth heard sirens, but they drifted away on the wind, leaving her in silence. Jonan sat on the sofa in the lounge, amongst the chaos, his eyes closed, jaw tight. She felt reproach in the deafening lack of sound, felt the rolling of her stomach increase with each passing moment.
She put the kettle on and went into the lounge. Jonan hadn’t moved. She went over to the window, pushing open the old, wooden frame and breathing in the fresh air with relief. Heading back to the kitchen, she made tea and put one cup on the table in front of Jonan. He sat so still she almost wanted to check his pulse, but he had asked her to leave him alone, and she was determined not to disturb whatever he was doing.
When the bell rang, she let out her breath in relief and took the stairs two at a time.
A policeman in uniform stood outside. His black hair was slicked back and his face was all sharp features, cheek bones standing out either side of a narrow, pointed nose.
‘Hello,’ he said without a smile. ‘I’m DC Ainsworth.’
‘Beth,’ she said, slightly breathless from her sprint down the stairs. She reached out to shake his hand, but he peered at her outstretched palm, sniffed and walked right past her to scan the room. Walking around the shop, he peered into the glass cabinets, buckets of crystals and open bookshelves. He glared at her for a moment, and then pulled a black leather notebook out of his pocket and began a fast scrawl with a silver ballpoint pen.
‘The damage is upstairs,’ Beth said.
He nodded. ‘Lead the way.’
He was far too close as he followed her up the stairs, almost clipping her heels with his shiny shoes. She hoped he couldn’t hear the hammering of her heart. This was not a man she wanted to show weakness to.
She knocked on the door at the top. Jonan was striding towards them when she opened it, but stood back to allow them into the flat.
‘What happened here tonight?’
Jonan spread out his arms. ‘We came home and found it this way.’
‘There’s no forced entry?’
‘No,’ Beth said, ‘but Jonan’s aunt is missing, along with a friend of ours.’
‘Their names?’ DC Ainsworth raised his eyebrows.
‘Doriel McLaney and Bill … do you know his surname, Beth?’ Jonan turned to her.
Beth blanched. ‘No. I can’t remember. I’m sorry.’
‘Is Bill a close friend of Doriel’s?’
‘No. They had just met. I brought him here tonight to recover from a hospital stay. Doriel offered to look after him.’
DC Ainsworth’s jaw worked. He wrote in his notebook. ‘How well do you know this Bill?’
Jonan sighed. ‘I’ve met him once. Beth met him a couple of times.’
‘He was injured,’ Beth blurted out. ‘And he’s old and frail.’
DC Ainsworth strode over to the chair next to the smouldering fire and sat down on the edge, back straight.
‘Sit down, please,’ he said, gesturing to the sofa. ‘I won’t take more of your time than necessary. I need descriptions of Doriel and Bill, photographs too.’ The man raised his eyes, holding his pen poised. His right leg jiggled, his heel not touching the floor.
Jonan picked up a picture frame and handed it to him. ‘This is Doriel. She’s medium height with long, red hair.’
‘How was she dressed when you last saw her?’
‘She was wearing a dressing gown,’ Beth said with a sinking feeling. ‘It was red with dragons, like a kimono.’
DC Ainsworth carried on writing, his lips compressed into a thin line. ‘And Bill?’