Twincy Quinn and the Eye of Horus Part One by Odette C. Bell Page A

conversation,
I finally walked out from behind the couch. ‘What do you mean by
black and white? Were they wearing black clothes?’
    She shook her
head, and for the first time she regarded me long enough that I
could gauge just how frightened and terrified her gaze was. Yet at
the same time she still was not crying.
    Curious.
    A child in her
position, by my estimation, should be nothing but an emotional
wreck.
    ‘ I must call for the doctor at once,’ the father suddenly shook
his head sharply to the side, ‘I request that you do not speak to
my dear daughter until we have a medical professional attend to
her.’
    I gave the
father a brief look, quickly returning my attention to Jennifer. I
wanted to note every single one of her expressions, every reaction
she had to what was going on in the room. ‘No,’ I finally
added.
    ‘ Detective,’ the father began, indignation trilling through his
tone, ‘this is my house.’
    ‘ 33,’ I said the number as I returned my gaze to him, narrowing
my eyes as I did, ‘that is the number of children that have been
kidnapped. I need to find out everything I can as quickly as I can.
You can call for the doctor, and then you can return to the room,
but I need to question Jennifer now.’
    Though the
father did not look happy, he conceded my point with a curt nod
nonetheless. He left the room briefly, spoke to his butler, and
then returned. His face was white with fear, yet at the same time
exuberance. He had his child back, and I desperately needed to find
out why.
    To Jennifer’s
credit, she did not immediately fall into a fitful state, and
neither did she beg her father to be excused from the room. Instead
she stared at my shoes, then my knees, then finally my eyes. Taking
a step backwards, she brought her hands up, and ran her thumbs
feverishly over her fingers. ‘I don't remember much. They came into
my room. I heard the window clicking open. It woke me up. Then I
saw them against the light coming in from the window. Black and
white,’ she repeated in that same staccato voice she had used
before. ‘Then they pressed something into my neck,’ as she spoke,
she let her fingers drag over the skin just between her collarbone
and the nape of her neck.
    Without having
to take a step forward, I could see two raised, red abrasions. It
made me narrow my eyes in an instant. I had seen wounds like that
before, though not on the living. Many mysterious deaths had been
taking place in London over the past several months, and though I
had not thought of it before, in a way they coincided with the
commencement of these strange kidnappings.
    ‘ What monsters,’ the father roared.
    I brought a
hand up, though I did not thrust it in front of the father's face,
I spread the fingers wide, and hoped it was a clear sign for the
father to leave Jennifer to speak uninterrupted.
    ‘ Things went black,’ she managed, now letting her gaze drift
down towards the floor. No doubt locking her eyes on some marked
patch of the leather chair, she ran her top teeth over her bottom
lip before she continued, ‘then they put something over my
head.’
    The father
made an angry noise, but thankfully he did not interrupt again.
    As Jennifer
spoke, I hardly blinked. It was as if I feared that if I lost
attention for even the minutest fraction of a second, I would miss
some vital clue.
    ‘ Then . . . ,’ she brought her hand up,
brushing at her hair, ‘I woke up. There were a lot of noises,’ her
brow was crumpled low over her eyes, and she kept on sinking her
teeth deep into her lip as she stared fixedly at the couch. Either
she was emotional or she was having trouble remembering the exact
details of her ordeal, or perhaps both. Still, as I waited for her
to continue, I could not deny the rush of unease and yet
expectation that claimed me. I realised how important her account
was. Though in a way it sounded impossible—two black and white
shapes climbing in her window, knocking her out with some