The Glass God by Kate Griffin Read Free Book Online

a few expletives. But I’m sure you appreciate the sentiment.”
    She pushed the door open. Beyond it Sharon saw…
    … a disaster.
    Piles of paper hid every part of the floor, save for five neat, foot-sized trenches which had been left at just the right distance to make stepping from one to the next, strenuously uncomfortable. The twisted mind that contrived this round-your-footsteps school of filing, hadn’t spared the walls or windows either: every available inch was covered with maps, memos, notes, diagrams and, in one or two cases, what looked to Sharon like mystic wards, inscribed in marker pen onto the wall itself. One map dominated all the others. Wider than Sharon’s outstretched arms, longer than the bed she slept in, it showed all of London from the M25 in, and was pinned to the wall over a slew of other documents which stuck out around it like nested fledglings peeping from under their mother. Red dots were stuck across its surface, forming a thick mess across large parts of north London, and a slightly thinner mess south of the river. Each dot had a date – a day and a month – scratched next to it in tiny writing, but there was no other indication of its purpose.
    In the middle of the room, encased by all this junk and sagging under the weight of many unwashed coffee mugs, was a desk; a computer sat huddled on one corner, as if embarrassed to be so digital in this analogue room. The only chair had also fallen victim to the mess of paperwork and was burdened by seven copies of the Yellow Pages, the earliest dating back to 1992. Sharon thought about moving them, then couldn’t work out where they’d go; so, stepping carefully towards the desk, across the paper-infested floor, she balanced precariously on top of them, like a toddler on a bar stool. The others lurked in the doorway, waiting to see what fell first.
    “This,” said Sharon, “is not good office practice.”
    There was a small sigh of relief. It came from Kelly, who appeared to know exactly what good office practice was and to hope someone else might too. “Ms Li,” she exclaimed, “I’m so glad you’re here, you have such a can-do attitude! Obviously, call me if you need anything, I’m just next door, and good luck with your investigation!”
    She turned to go, and was somehow out of sight before Sharon had a chance to say, “Oi, don’t you bloody go, you can’t just leave me with…⁠”
    The door to the neighbouring office slammed, with, Sharon felt, perhaps more emphasis than necessary. She looked down at the desk, and the pile of Yellow Pages shifted beneath her. Things were growing at the bottom of one of the abandoned coffee mugs. Since the things weren’t about to utter prophetic truths, she averted her gaze.
    “Um… Ms Li?” Rhys stood in the doorway. So, to Sharon’s surprise, did Miles. “Can we, uh… do anything?” hazarded the druid.
    Sharon looked at him, then stared around the room, searching for inspiration. “Dunno,” she said. “Ever gone looking for the missing guardian of the city before?”
    “Um… no. Sorry.”
    “I haven’t either,” offered Miles, “but I do have Google maps on my phone, should we require them.”
    Sharon’s eyes narrowed. “That’s great,” she muttered, in the tone of one who still didn’t trust technology to know the difference between a canal path and a motorway. “But, and I don’t mean this in a negative way, what exactly is your job in this?”
    “Oh, I’m here to assist!” Miles exclaimed. “I am, in fact, your minion. I believe that’s not the politically correct term, but I don’t mind it. Anything you need, anything you desire, be it menial, demanding or dangerous, and I will be only too happy to assist.”
    Rhys sensed an itching at the back of this throat. He felt that if anyone was going to do menial, demanding or dangerous jobs, it should be him. He eyed Miles up and down, noticed the healthy glow to his skin, the well-muscled neck leading into what