Flock

KJ Bauer

Description

Deep within the abandoned darkness of London sits the hub of a clandestine community - the 'Office'. For decades, secluded in an underground base of secret history, unworldly knowledge and incogitable crises: "We're out of chocolate digestives!"When two bickering colleagues make a disturbing discovery, their find triggers further adversity. A city-wide upset, a localised riot and the fallout of a powerful, enchanted stone. Not quite their daily grind.The pair, Amy and Fletch, take on the deadly, paranormal mystery; a series of eerie murders and the sinister truth of a young amnesiac. Teamed with determined workmate Tashta and fiery boss Una, they investigate the magickal London privy to them. The four navigate through absurd conspiracy theories, stolen contraband and the distinct lack of an HR department.The Office team's quest embroils them with a charismatic exorcist, a fanboy psychic and an unruly laser-printer. But the danger that awaits is far beyond their job description. Hidden agendas may prove as lethal as the shadowy foe they seek.

Sujets

• Central London
• Thriller

Informations

• Publié par: Troubador Publishing Ltd
• Date de parution: 22 novembre 2018
• Nombre de lectures: 0
• EAN13: 9781789019131
• Langue: English
• Poids de l'ouvrage: 2 Mo

Extrait

FLOCK
KJ Bauer
Copyright © 2018 K J Bauer

The moral right of the author has been asserted.

Apart from any fair dealing for the purposes of research or private study, or criticism or review, as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, this publication may only be reproduced, stored or transmitted, in any form or by any means, with the prior permission in writing of the publishers, or in the case of reprographic reproduction in accordance with the terms of licences issued by the Copyright Licensing Agency. Enquiries concerning reproduction outside those terms should be sent to the publishers.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination
or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

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ISBN 9781789019131

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A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

Matador® is an imprint of Troubador Publishing Ltd



For Nisha, forever.
Contents
Acknowledgement

CHAPTER ONE
CHAPTER TWO
CHAPTER THREE
CHAPTER FOUR
CHAPTER FIVE
CHAPTER SIX
CHAPTER SEVEN
CHAPTER EIGHT
CHAPTER NINE
CHAPTER TEN
CHAPTER ELEVEN
CHAPTER TWELVE
CHAPTER THIRTEEN
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
CHAPTER NINETEEN
CHAPTER TWENTY
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE
CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
CHAPTER TWENTY-THREE
CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR
CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
CHAPTER TWENTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER TWENTY-NINE
CHAPTER THIRTY
CHAPTER THIRTY-ONE
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
CHAPTER THIRTY-FOUR
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
CHAPTER THIRTY-SIX
CHAPTER THIRTY-SEVEN
CHAPTER THIRTY-EIGHT
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
CHAPTER FORTY
CHAPTER FORTY-ONE
CHAPTER FORTY-TWO
Acknowledgement
Hello there, Reader.

KJ, here. If you’ve stopped at this page for some insight before launching into the next forty-two chapters, glean away. This is a designated space for sincere gratitude.

I could not have completed this novel without the enduring support of my Islander sisters, the Owl and AJ. Cheers to you, ladies! How either of you put up with my nonsense is beyond me. Please know I am forever grateful for your love and friendship.
Special thanks to the lovely folk at Matador, in particular, Stephanie Carr for your great patience with my endless questions, and Megan Lockwood-Jones for the stellar cover design. Also, to Sally Brigham of Pukka Proofreading for your expertise.

My final thanks is to you, dear Reader, for downloading this ebook. I hope you enjoy!





“The universe is full of magical things
patiently waiting for our wits to grow sharper.”
- Eden Phillpotts
CHAPTER ONE
Under the dim light of an overcast night, the silent figure emerged from shadow. Clothed in form-fitting black, he slipped down an alleyway. His torso stiff with apprehension, his every footstep planted with purpose. He arrived at a chain-link fence secured by an expected but hostile padlocked chain. With one last scope of his surroundings, he raised his hood and scaled the barrier.
The figure descended, landing with a light thud. An urban fox investigating an upturned bin swung a look at him. Sensing no threat, it returned to its pressing business. London’s cold, late-November air stung the man’s nostrils; his fingers icy within his gloves. Drizzle fell about him like a beaded curtain.
Crouching, the man scanned the area into which he had trespassed: a small commercial backyard. There was little cover to shield him from the prying eyes of the windows above. They were of no concern; his only obstacle was the impending security door.
The man exhaled hard, expelling a plume of mist. His senses locked in, focused. With his next breath, the man primed himself to step forward when,
“Aaaaaaghhhh!”
An almighty crash behind him scared the fox into darting away, setting off a security light.
“Jee-sus!” he exclaimed, springing back into shadow.
A second figure picked herself up off the wet floor.
“It’s harder than it looks!” she defended.
“It’s…?”
The man, Fletch, stood up and glared at his companion through the fence. He wasn’t impressed.
“Ames, I said you could wait in the car.”
Fletch’s companion had also donned black for stealth, albeit under her puffy purple coat. Amy found her clumsy feet.
“Yeah, and I said I’d help!” she insisted.
“This isn’t help.”
Amy scowled at him through the fence.
“How do I do this?”
Fletch grimaced. He waited until the light winked off then gripped the fence.
“Here,” he said, “reach, grab and pull. Brace your foot against the…”
“It’s slippery!”
“It’s raining!”
“Can’t we just pick the lock?”
“No. Come on!”
Amy pulled herself up, losing her footing against the slick metal. She caught it again on the giant padlock, smacking the thick chain loud against the fence. Fletch swore under his breath. On reaching the top, Amy misjudged her core muscles and tumbled forward. She fell hard onto Fletch, sending them both crashing backwards. They held still for a few seconds, listening for repercussions.
“You alright?” he whispered.
“I did it!” she whispered back.
Fletch tutted.
“Let’s go.”
They helped each other upright. Amy took a second to pull her bag strap back over her shoulder. Her partner-in-crime adjusted his hood. With Fletch taking the lead, the duo crept around the edge of the yard, careful to not trigger the light again. At the heavy-duty door, Fletch hand-signalled for Amy’s turn. Amy dove into the chaos of her bag and by accident pulled out her phone.
“Come on, Ames. Focus!”
Amy stuck her tongue out in response.
After a few more false positives, Amy found the elusive case. Nestled inside sat a coin-sized tool on loan from their teammate, Tashta. Ames worked the tool’s magick on the keyhole. Before Fletch got a chance to see how, the alarm was already bypassed and the door ajar.
The pair stepped into a dark corner-shop storeroom. Fletch shone his torch low and into the corners of the unkempt space. It was clear that efficiency was a low priority for this store owner. Fletch knocked a box in his path, and the sound of scurrying rats made Amy squeal.
“Seriously?” Fletch scoffed.
“Shut up,” she muttered, shaking the creeps off her skin.
Amy twisted her pocket torch on and ran the beam over the opposite side of the room. Diligent in their search, they followed the shelving around, both ending back at the door.
“I don’t see it,” said Amy.
“Same,” Fletch sighed.
“We’re certain it’s not on the shop floor? Behind the counter or something?”
Fletch shook his head, still passing light over the haphazard stock.
“Frankie told Una back storeroom,” he stated.
“Frankie…” Ames tutted. Why was London HQ still indulging that fecker?
“Maybe there’s a cellar?” he mused.
“There’s a freezer.” she pointed.
Fletch moved towards a plastic strip curtain, beyond which lay the shop floor. In an alcove between the storeroom and the partition, he found it. A grimy, industrial-sized cold-storage unit. Fletch pulled the handle.
“Locked,” he grumbled.
“I’ll get it!” Amy beamed.
Ames reached back into her bag for her borrowed piece of mechanical sorcery. Watching her, Fletch felt guilty. Amy could have picked the padlock out back with ease. After a few seconds of tinkering, they heard a buzz. Then a click.
“Voila!” she anounced.
Amy struggled to pull the heavy door. As Fletch reached over to help, she swung it open.
“Okay. So… Oh!” gasped Amy.
Fletch stared wide-eyed. This was somewhat unexpected.
CHAPTER TWO
The Grand Reference Library at London HQ was first inaugurated in the 1960s. Conceived as a regimented repository of rare knowledge, it boasted miles of rich pages. Countless subjects in hundreds of languages were all given a comfortable home here. One of beauty too, at least to the founders’ eyes, with ornate, dark wood stacks and counterpart writing surfaces. They had chosen the English Tudor reproduction wall panels and furnishings.
Today, the library remained as its founders intended… all except for being beautiful or regimented. Their stylised aesthetic sat buried under four decades of newer furniture and décor. An unintentional cacophony of steel-frame shelving and dog-eared posters; a rainbow of textured accessories and fittings. Grey laminate tables gazing upon the original majestic desks, envious of what they could have been.
The farthest end of the library had once accommodated a private study room. With the aid of a sledgehammer and some pleather couches, it had been reborn as an informal meeting area. It was here that Tashta had planted herself. Close enough to the centuries of wisdom and artefacts, without the claustrophobia of sitting in a bric-a-brac store. It also helped her ignore the regular rattles of the locked entrance. A stream of strung-out book junkies rebelling against her ‘closed for maintenance’ sign. Unbelievable , she thought, irked by the cheek of their intrusions. All of HQ knew the library was her domain.
Monday mid-morning found Tash skipping out on her university lecture. Again. For once, Tash’s truancy was not of her own choosing – none of this was. A Comm