The Open Gate was a lot more charming than Raven expected. He'd gone in primed to see full American Werewolf in London vibes, complete with hostile locals and a bloody pentagram on the wall. The knots in his stomach might have had a lot to do with that, though he couldn't help it. Being at ease in Whaterly was not something he was accustomed to in all of the seven hours total he'd spent in its borders.
It was, however, surprisingly light an airy, even with the dark woods and the overcast day outside. The feeling of being watched didn't dissipate completely upon setting foot inside the establishment, but it didn't dampen his spirits at all, which he considered a win he would gladly take. He couldn't see anyone who might be Jack Cold, so he ordered a pint and secreted himself on a small table by the window. He got his phone and deleted the notification saying he had messages from Hysteria. Persephone had told him she was being confined for the near future, and Raven knew that all the messages would be ranting and railing and swearing and cursing. He'd deal with that later.
A few minutes went by and there was still no sign of his coworker, so he took out a battered sci-fi paperback from his jacket pocket and began to read. Old tales of explorers on other worlds blasting bug-eyed monsters calmed him down. There was something about the hopefulness of mankind back in the fifties and sixties which seemed to reassure him that everything would go right.
"Morrigan! Seth Morrigan! Haven't seen you in ages!"
A big man in a leather coat entered the pub. He had a stupid grin on his face, a floppy fringe, and an aura that said 'more brawn than brains.' It had to be Jack Cold, and when Raven got up and gave him a bear hug to maintain appearances, the man whispered in his ear, "Try reading Moonlight in the East," to which Raven replied in kind, "I preferred The Sun Beast."
"We've got so much to catch up on. I haven't seen you since Uni. Hang on, lemme grab a drink and I'll be back with you. If you've got nothing going on."
Raven shook his head. "Trying to come up with a new novel idea. Thought the quiet town world would help."
"After the first one? Werewolf novel, wasn't it?"
"Yeah. Go grab you drink, though. We'll talk in a minute."
Raven watched the big man order. He'd definitely got the muscle to be part of Laundry, and more than likely had spent most of his time doing the heavy lifting. Sometimes literal heavy lifting. Yet the way he spoke, the way he slipped into code and lies, spoke of intelligence that you couldn't get just from cleaning up the mess. He wore an exceptionally good mask to the outside world of someone slower than usual, but it was a finely honed disguise indeed. He was up there in the ranks now, someone Raven suspected as having genuinely worked his way up. Raven thought maybe he might be able to confide in the man.
Cold sat back down with a drink. They clinked the glasses together and both began to weave an elaborate narrative about nothing at all. Raven surprised himself at how easily he was able to come up with random quirks about a wife he didn't have, about lecturers for English Lit modules he had never taken and wouldn't have the first idea about. The next time Persephone had a go at him for reading too many sci-fi books, he'd send it right back to her.
Before long, more and more locals drifted in. The afternoon was fading and the time for socialising with those outside the dreary workplace was at hand. When there was enough noise around them that any conversation they were having would be believed to be misinterpreted due to snatches of other drifting conversations, they switched tracks.
Raven started. "So, tell me what's going on in this place. If you're out here, it's nothing too serious, I hope."
Cold snorted. "I'm pretty much on my holiday now. Everything's clearing up. Tell you what though; the guy I came out to see in the first place is causing a bit of a mess."
Raven took a melodramatic sip of beer and raised an eyebrow. "Why's that?"
"Well, put simply, I don't know where they got him from. Don't know what training he did, what his qualifications are. Asking questions about him was more work than it should have been. Still got virtually zilch. Guys back home are working on it night and day. Pretty hairy stuff, if you get me."
Good one, Raven thought. Hairy. Nicely done there.
Raven glanced out through the old single glazing. It wasn't time for the streetlights to come on, but it was certainly gloomy. He spied a churchyard through the streets, the heads of graves like rows of grey teeth sticking up from a green gum. Somebody walked by the tombstones. They weren't in black or seeming to go to a particular grave. Just walking. Maybe it was the vicar or minister out of garb. Maybe it was someone taking a shortcut from one part of the town to another. There was no way to tell. But it was a figure far away, blurred by the distance, strolling past death, and it sent a shiver down Raven's spine, colder than a drop of beer down the side of his glass.
"I haven't told you about my new novel," Raven said, going back to the code speak.
Cold took a sip of his own drink that was nearly empty. He was a quick and efficient drinker, getting things done swiftly with no fuss. He raised a hand to signal for Raven to continue.
"Well, it's about a murder, as it were. Set in a small town, like this one. And someone's killed in it. Obviously. It's about a murder. That's at the beginning. I don't know who he is exactly, I haven't worked that out. But there's the assassin there. He's our main character. Probably. The one we follow, anyway. And he's just killed them, and he's certain nobody will know about this, but he gets this funny feeling. And he turns around, and that feeling that he's being watched is obviously playing tricks on him, because he sees someone watching. In the shadows. He goes to look, but it was just the trees. Still, he can't shake the feeling."
Raven watched for any sign of recognition from Cold, but there was nothing. Maybe he was a man that wasn't too long in the upper echelons of The Conservatory, because his eyes didn't flicker like they eyes of someone used to wearing the Men In Black sunglasses might have done. "Sounds interesting," Cold said. "What happens next?"
"I don't know yet," Raven said quietly. He held his hand flat on the table and saw that his fingers quivered ever so slightly. "But the assassin, wherever he goes, feels like someone, or something, was watching. So he has to go back. And a lot of the book will be this assassin trying to blend in, pretend he's an artist or a novelist or something, all the while trying to find out if someone did see him."
"And if it was a person or not? Maybe something more?"
Raven checked Cold's eyes again to see if this was a statement or a question. They gave away nothing. Cold by name, cold by nature.
"I don't think I'll make the figure supernatural," Raven said. "Although if I did, it would probably be a bug-eyed monster." He pointed to the book on the table and gave a smirk. "Got enough inspiration right now."
"I hear you, buddy. I gotta tell you, I hope your assassin gets his head looked at in a scene somewhere, though."
"Why's that?"
"One of my old girlfriends had some stuff going on. Upstairs was sometimes downstairs, back to front, if you get me. Sometimes she'd see things, especially when she hadn't taken her meds. I know it's stupid, but any writers I meet now, I make sure they have their characters check they're thinking clearly, especially if they're on the edge. No judgement, but sometimes the world does things to us without us knowing. And an assassin, who's killed a lot of people, maybe your character's just seeing an embodiment of guilt. Just a thought."
Cold didn't seem to be judging him, but the message was clear. You're cracking up, me old son Raven. Go check you're not headed straight for the loony bin, because I've got the men in white coats on speed dial ready to go. What else was he really expecting to get from this? Maybe it was all the stress with Hysteria being now his priority. He probably should return those messages and calls. They were meant to be building a bond, after all.
Raven nodded. "Yeah. You make a good point. Maybe I can bring the psychiatrist into it. Maybe they're the one watching them, the secret bad guy."
Cold nodded. "Now there's an idea." He finished his glass. "I've got to be off, Seth. You going to be around for long?"
Seth shrugged. "Depends on how long it takes me to come up with something for the book. Although, just talking it through with you has given me some ideas. Maybe one of them's a good one."
Cold smiled and offered Raven a large fist to bump. He took his scrawny hand, curled it up, and bumped.
Cold started to walk away before stopping. He took his phone out of his pocket, read a text message, and snorted. He turned back to Raven.
"Morrigan, you doing anything right now?"
"Aside from finishing this, just thinking myself into the abyss."
"Want to come for a drive? Turns out my company's just arranged for me to have dinner with the guy that's caused the mess. Clear things up. Want to make it dinner for three? Boss is Big Coco from the Uni tennis club, if you remember him? Few years ahead of us. I'm sure he'll let you join."
Information on the werewolf. Got to be. They've tracked down who he is. Raven nodded. "Why not? Sounds very informal. Might give me some ideas for the book."
Informal, my ass. We're going to knock on someone's door and ask them if they'd like to take a seat because we've got some very bad news.