Silhouette by Justin Richards Read Free Book Online Page A

closer look would have revealed that the pale shape was not a snowflake at all. It was a small piece of paper, folded into the shape of a bird. Tiny, angular wings beat rhythmically as it fluttered on its way. Not a random, chaotic route through the air. It turned at the street corner, and set off along the next street, dancing and trembling through the afternoon.
    At the corner of the street, a man and woman watched the approach of the stylised bird. The manwore a dark overcoat and carried a silver-topped ebony cane. The woman was wrapped in a long, red cloak. The hood was drawn up over her head, but the pale sunshine illuminated her delicate features as she looked up at the bird. As it drew nearer, she held out her arm, the scarlet material hanging down from it like a shimmering waterfall of blood.
    The paper bird alighted on the outstretched arm. Its wings continued to beat for a few moments.
    ‘Welcome, my little friend,’ Silhouette murmured. ‘And what have you come to tell us?’
    The bird’s wings stilled. For a moment it remained upright on the red material. Then it toppled over and lay on its side. Inert. Just a piece of paper.
    ‘May I?’ Milton asked, holding out his hand.
    Silhouette lifted the bird from her arm with her other hand. She slowly unfolded the wings, then the body, smoothing the creature out into a single sheet of paper which she glanced at, and then handed to Milton with a smile.
    One side of the paper, the side that had been folded away from view, was covered with handwriting. Neat, feminine, but regular.
    She said: ‘More origami. That can’t be a coincidence.’
    He said: ‘No. Hasn’t been here long, it’s not dusty enough. But I can’t believe our Mr Milton came here just to leave a paper bird behind.’
    She said: ‘What do you think he’s up to? Something that needs power, right? I mean an advanced form of power that could generate the spike we picked up.’
    He said: ‘Whatever he’s up to, it’s not good. A man’s dead. I can’t believe that’s not connected. Especially now.’
    She said: ‘You think Milton’s up to no good?’
    He said: ‘He’s definitely up to something. I’d like to know what it is before we reveal our own credentials. The less he knows about us for the moment, the better.’
    She said: ‘And now what? We don’t even know where he’s gone?’
    Milton nodded and smiled as he read through the text. ‘Well done, Silhouette.’
    ‘Enlightening?’ she asked.
    ‘Oh, very enlightening.’
    ‘I told you there was something odd about those two. Odd and dangerous.’
    ‘Your instincts as ever were correct. Affinity had similar anxieties. Well, now we know.’ He glanced down at the paper in his hand. ‘This Doctor is no more a Victorian gentleman than I am.’ He screwed the paper into a ball suddenly and threw it away. ‘We must deal with him, and with his friends.’
    ‘But what brought them to the Carnival?’ Silhouette wondered.
    ‘ “A man is dead,” the Doctor said,’ Milton told her. ‘That must be Hapworth.’
    ‘Do they know what he saw?’
    ‘No, or they wouldn’t be investigating the Carnival. They wouldn’t need to. They would already know about you.’
    ‘Then they are stumbling about in the dark,’ Silhouette told him.
    ‘Yes. But the danger is that they will stumble into something significant. I want them dealt with, Silhouette. Talk to Affinity. Sort it out. Quickly.’
    They walked slowly back along the street. On the pavement behind them, a crumpled ball of paper lay in the snow. It trembled, perhaps in a breeze, damp soaking slowly through it. Dark ink smudged and smeared, and dripped into the white snow. Like blood from a wound.
    The light was fading quickly. Clara could see the gas lamps coming on along the Embankment. Pale luminescence crept slowly along and casting a glow as far as the Frost Fair. Here lights were coming on as well, reflected back off the snow on the ground and the ice on the river to give