Page 62 of Dead Serious: Case 3 Mr Bruce Reyes

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“Oh my god, I am so sick of this rain,” I grumble as we head toward the entrance of the care home. Danny is hopping along on his crutches while I keep pace with him. Fortunately, the wind has temporarily dropped a bit, at least enough for me to hold an umbrella over his head so he won’t get wet. Of course, that means only my right arm and that half of my body stay vaguely dry. The rest of me is soaked within seconds.

“Tell me about it.” Danny shakes his head. “At this rate, we won’t need to bother with Ubers much longer. We’ll just buy a dinghy and paddle our way around London.”

I can’t help the unintentional and very unsexy snort that escapes me because he’s not wrong. With all this unnatural rain, the drains and parts of the sewers that were constructed by the Victorians are all backing up. Parts of historical London that haven’t yet been updated simply can’t cope, and we’re already starting to see flooding in some areas. Public transport is being cancelled, streets are closed off, deliveries aren’t getting through. It is, in a word…

Chaos.

Death’s evil twin certainly seems to be a man with a plan because from where I’m standing, catastrophe seems to be lurking around every corner, and that’s before he’s even set foot through the portal. If we don’t figure this out soon, we’re going to be screwed.

The main doors open and Danny hobbles through. I pause and collapse the umbrella, shaking it to get the worst of the rain off, but as I walk into the main reception, my glasses mist up and I can’t see a damn thing.

“Here.” Danny’s warm, amused voice comes from somewhere close by and my glasses are plucked off my face.

I blink and then squint slightly, my stomach doing a funny roll as I watch Danny pull a microfibre cloth for cleaning lenses from his coat pocket. He dries my glasses before placing them carefully back on my face.

“Thanks.” I smile softly and he gives a little shrug, his eyes twinkling in amusement as if it isn’t a big deal he just happens to carry around a cloth for cleaning glasses when he doesn’t wear them.

“Tristan, Danny, there you are,” Lois calls out as she enters the reception area. “My goodness, Tristan, you look like you’ve fallen in a swimming pool.”

“And that was just getting out of the Uber.”

Danny frowns. “I told you to try and keep the umbrella over yourself first. I don’t want you getting sick again.”

“I’m fine,” I tell him affectionately.

“Danny’s right,” Lois agrees as she gives me a slow appraisal. “Why don’t you hang your coats up here to dry and then I’ll take you through to see Martin. He’s in his room, so I can get you one of his towels to at least dry your hair with.”

I nod and strip my coat off, which Lois hangs up while I help Danny out of his. Once his coat is hung up as well, we head through the maze of corridors, and the closer we get to my dad’s room, the more the hairs on the back of my neck begin to rise and my anxiety ratchets up.

Something doesn’t feel right, and I can’t put my finger on what it is until the moment I walk through my dad’s door. Before I can do or say anything, my dad sees me and launches himself across the room, wrapping his arms around me and hanging on so tight I can barely draw in a breath.

“Dad,” I croak, but he doesn’t loosen his grip and he’s trembling so hard it knocks my glasses askew. “Dad, it’s okay,” I whisper in his ear, patting his back.

“My goodness, he’s never done that before,” Lois says, the surprise evident in her voice.

She’s right. Usually, it takes a while for him to start interacting with us on whatever level he’s able to that day. Sometimes, on his bad days, he doesn’t acknowledge us at all. But he’s never before outright launched himself at me the second he’s seen me and not let go. Which means something is very wrong, and from the atmosphere in his room, I can tell it’s not going to be solved by adjusting his medication.

“Here’s a towel for you whenever Martin decides to let you go,” Lois says and I shuffle around slightly, Dad still clinging to me like a koala, to see her lay a clean towel on the end of his bed. “I’ll go and get you and Danny a cup of tea each to warm you up.”

“Thanks, Lois,” Danny says, and a moment later, I hear the bedroom door click closed.

“What on earth is going on, Martin?” Danny says gently and hobbles over to us, placing a soothing hand on Dad’s back.

“Danny,” I whisper. “There’s something here.”

“What?”

“I can feel it in the room. The air’s heavy, my skin’s prickling on the back of my neck, and the room lookswrong. It’s like it’s filled with shadows. It feels like…”

“Feels like what?”

“It feels like the room where the portal is,” I reply, my voice low.

“I don’t understand.”

“Neither do I.”