Empower

Начало книги

‘But I have promises to keep, and miles to go before I sleep, and miles to go before I sleep.’

Robert Frost

my sweater was coated in a layer of mist – again – a byproduct of life in London. I barely noticed the constant drizzle any more. It’s not as if the cold bothered me. Not when I was the very definition of cold.

What was bothering me was the smell. There is something rank about a meat market at night. Especially when you’re wedged into the eaves wondering what, over the years, has been sprayed about and never cleaned away. I shuddered.

The Smithfield Market was currently in vogue, but a gritty sense of history thickened the air, giving it a density that made me sure this wasn’t the first time the site had been used for wicked intent. And right now, it was hunting hour.

At least I was the hunter.

I watched quietly as the exiles came into the centre of the massive terminal-style space, vaguely interested to note that there were six of them, instead of the four I’d expected. No bother, I suppose. I still had the element of surprise on my side.

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