floor was littered with empty bottles; the smell of alcohol was overpowering. Craven backed out and made his way to the kitchen. When he returned to the bedroom, he was carrying a pan full of water.
“Rise and shine.” He poured the water over the shifter's head.
“What the fuck?” The shifter coughed and spluttered as he shot upright.
“Time to wake up.” Craven could barely conceal his contempt for the drunk. Drink and drug addiction was relatively rare amongst shifters when compared to humans, but Greenide had more than its fair share of low-life scum like this.
“Who are you?” The drunk's eyes were still only half-open, and his words were slurred.
“I want to ask you a few questions.”
“Fuck off!”
Craven grabbed him around the throat, lifted him clear of the bed, and pinned him to the wall.
“Let—let me—go,” The drunk waved his arms and kicked his legs as he struggled to break free.
“You're going to answer my questions or you're going to die.” Which is it to be?
The drunk's face was red, and his eyes were now wide open. “Okay,” he managed to splutter.
Craven released his grip and allowed him to fall to the floor.
The shifter stared up at Craven. “Aren't you—? Didn't you used to be—?”
“I'm asking the questions. You made a phone call two weeks ago to a nurse.”
“What?”
“You told her you were on the hospital staff and that she had to come into work.”
“I don't know what you're—”
Craven pushed the drunk's head hard against the wall.
“Ouch, okay, okay.”
“Why did you make the call?”
“Someone paid me.”
“Who?”
“How would I know? Ouch!”
Craven had run a claw across the drunk's throat. Not deep enough to do any real damage, but enough to draw a little blood. “Next time I cut your jugular. Who told you to make the call?”
“I don't know his name. He gave me twenty quid to do it. He wrote down the number, and the words I had to say. That's it. I don't know anything else.”
“Tell me his name or I'll kill you right now.” Craven pressed a claw hard against the drunk's throat.
“I don't know. I swear.”
Craven could see he was telling the truth now. “Would you recognise him again?”
“I'm not sure. Probably.”
Craven took out his phone, and did a quick Internet image search. It didn't take him long to find the photo he wanted. “Is that him?”
The drunk screwed up his eyes to study the image. “Yeah, I think so. Yeah, that's definitely him.”
*********
Craven parked on a side street just down the road from Drayton's apartment block. From there he had a clear view of the main entrance. While he was waiting, he gave Louise a call. There was no answer, so he tried Grosvenor's number.
“Have you seen Louise?” Craven asked.
“Not since she came by earlier. I spoke to her on the phone a short while ago though. I had some info on that shifter she's looking for. What's his name? Marlow?”
“That was quick.”
“One of our guys over in Maja was already aware of him.”
“Is he alive?”
“As far as we can make out, yes. I let Louise have his last known whereabouts.”
“Okay. Thanks.”
Craven tried Louise's number again. Still no reply. He tried to ignore the doubt which was niggling away at him.
A familiar figure in the distance caught his eye. Craven watched as Drayton walked down the steps at the front of the apartment block. A black Audi had pulled up at the roadside. He tried to see who was in the car, but the tinted windows made it impossible. The Audi pulled away, and Craven was about to follow when a bus blocked his way. “Damn it!” He looked down the road—trying to keep the Audi in sight. As soon as the bus moved away, Craven put his foot to the floor, and set off in pursuit of Drayton. For a moment he thought he'd lost him, but then he spotted the back-end of the Audi as it took a left onto the slip road. Craven made sure he kept at least three vehicles between his car and
Rebecca Hamilton, Conner Kressley