Free The Dark Detective: Venator by Jane Harvey-Berrick Page B

lipstick, using the mirror in her compact.
    Max wondered just how painful her ankle really was. Part of him was tempted to test it to find out, but then decided that such an act would be ungentlemanly and, in the circumstances, uncalled for. Maybe Sophie was right. Maybe he could put the cab fare on expenses.
    He realised Sophie was waiting for an answer and tried to pull himself together: not easy with a Level Two demon in such close proximity.
    “His name is Professor Hamaliel,” he managed to say at last. “He’s an expert in demonology. Well, he used to be: he retired quite a few years back. But if anyone can tell us about the Mother, I’d lay odds that it’ll be him. Whether or not he’ll pass on the information is anyone’s guess...”
    “What did you two fall out about?” asked Sophie, curiously.
    Max paused. “It’s personal,” he said, with an air of finality in his voice.
    Sophie shrugged. Her attitude seemed to say, ‘I can wait. I’ll find out sooner or later’.
    “Does he know what you do?” said Sophie.
    “Yes.” Max hesitated, then decided that he could tell Sophie a bit more. “He used to work for the Yard as... a consultant, but... as I said, he’s retired.”
    The driver interrupted their conversation.
    “This is Maze Hill. What number d’you want, mate?”
    “It’s that big house on the right,” said Max. “The one with the iron gates.”
    The taxi swung onto the gravelled drive, its wheels making a satisfying crunching sound.
    “Here you are, son. That’ll be £43.80 – unless you want me to wait.”
    “No, thanks,” said Max, shelling out the notes. “That won’t be necessary.”
    The taxi driver looked disappointed. He’d have to look for another fare back into town or his profit margin would be thinner than he’d like.
    Sophie looked annoyed, too. But what was new?
    The house was in the middle of a large park and there wasn’t a Tube station or bus stop in sight.
    Max gave the driver £45 and waited patiently for a receipt. The driver wrote it out rather grudgingly and drove off in a huff.
    “How do you know that the Professor will be in?” said Sophie, watching the taxi disappear with a pained expression on her face.
    “He’ll be in,” said Max. “He never goes out.”
    “Never?”
    “Never.”
    “Hmm. Interesting,” said Sophie.
    Max rang the bell. It echoed somewhere deep inside the house. They waited a long time before quiet footsteps could be heard approaching.
    There was a pause then the door swung open silently.
    The man standing at the entrance was elderly with thick grey hair and a white beard. He had a slight stoop but otherwise looked fit and alert. It was impossible to tell his age.
    “Detective Darke,” he said with a look of distaste on his lined face. “It’s been a long time. It must be something serious for you to seek me out. And you’ve brought a friend. How nice. I suppose you want to come in.”
    “If it’s not too much trouble,” said Max, stiffly. He hated asking favours from a man he despised.
    They followed the old man down a walnut-panelled corridor into an attractive Edwardian sitting room.
    The old man waved them to a settee facing him. He paused, waiting for Max to speak, but Max sat stony-faced, staring into space.
    “Seeing as the Detective hasn’t got the manners to introduce us, may I take the trouble, my dear, of asking you your name? I am Professor Emmanuel Hamaliel. A bit of a mouthful, but I’m used to it now.”
    “Charmed!” said Sophie. “My name is Sophie Judas.”
    “Delighted to meet you Miss Judas,” said the Professor. “I must admit,” he went on, “I’m rather surprised to see you, Detective, with a Level Two demon, even one as beautiful as this young lady. A Chava demon, I believe?”
    “How clever of you!” twinkled Sophie. “May I ask how you knew?”
    “Ah, long years of experience,” said the Professor, smiling. “Although you seem to be missing your horns.”
    “How sweet of you