Dark Tomorrow (Bo Blackman Book 6) Read Free Page A

thing I can do about it. If you had any sense, you’d have left London by now.’
    ‘I’m here for Harry D’Argneau,’ I explain.
    ‘He’s in court,’ she snaps. ‘It’s an important case and can’t be interrupted. It’s one of only three still going ahead today.’
    I remain patient. ‘I know. I’ll wait quietly at the back of the room until he’s done.’
    Her malevolence increases. She actually hates me more now for having saved her life. Then I consider the daemon who just skedaddled out of here; maybe she hates just about everyone. She’s an equal opportunities kinda person.
    ‘I’ll be good. Scout’s promise.’
    She regards me silently before heaving a sigh as if all this is a great imposition. ‘Fine,’ she says. ‘Sign in here.’
    I scribble my name, making sure it’s illegible so that it could belong to just about anyone. There’s no point in making life easy for anyone who might be tracking me. Then I bow my head respectfully and stroll off in the direction of courtroom number two.
    There’s a single guard stationed outside. Without glancing at my face, he gestures at me to wait so I rock back on my heels and try to be good. After a couple of minutes, at some invisible signal, he steps aside and lets me to enter. Frankly, I think he just wants to look important. Pleased that part is over, I head inside. There are plenty of empty seats; most people are choosing to stay home this week and even the usual court tourists are absent. I sit towards the back and then I wait.
    Back in my PI days, I spent a fair bit of time in courtrooms. It’s not as exciting as it sounds; usually there’s just a lot of hanging around. Plus the legalese, which I’m sure is designed to be incomprehensible, makes the proceedings seem far longer than they need to be. I have a reasonable respect for the legal system – both Agathos and human ‒ but surely they could spice things up sometimes? A Few Good Men this is not.
    D’Argneau is at the front, head bowed as he pretends to take copious notes. The barrister for the prosecution appears equally bored. I’m not surprised; there’s a witchy witness with astonishingly frizzy hair droning on about accounts up at the front. Less than a minute in and I already want to shoot myself in the head.
    The defendant seems to be a youngish daemon wearing a sharp suit. It’s difficult to tell for sure, as I can only see the back of his head. I recognise the tailoring, however; I’ve not spent years hanging around my grandfather for nothing. Whoever this character is, he has a fair bit of money. He’s wearing Savile Row’s finest but, despite his apparent wealth and his proud posture, the tips of his pointed ears are flushed red. He’s as guilty as sin.
    My own ears prickle and I realise that the judge’s attention has been diverted from the proceedings. He’s noticed me sitting quietly and is gaping at me as if he’s never seen a vampire before. He swallows hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat, then he starts to tug at his collar and twitch. I give him a little wave in return. It does just what I hope and makes him even more uncomfortable.
    ‘So, as you can tell from the dividends arrived at through calculation of Mr Aaron’s assets, the taxation requirements are substantially…’
    The judge coughs. ‘Let’s take a break.’
    Everyone jerks in surprise. D’Argneau’s head turns, his eyes suspicious, but comprehension dawns when he catches sight of me. He immediately stands. ‘Excellent idea, Your Honour.’
    The guilt-ridden Mr Aaron isn’t particularly thrilled. He tugs at D’Argneau’s sleeve. The lawyer soothes him expertly. I slip back out again.
    When D’Argneau emerges, he jerks his head to the right. I nod imperceptibly and follow. For once, he’s being discreet; who knew he was capable of such a thing? I suppose it’s testament to just how dire the situation is. I run my tongue across my teeth, pausing at each fang. The feeling is