В мрачном английском замке на севере страны жестокий убийца оставляет позади следы своего злого шарта. Призрак-убийца извлекает душу жертвы в собственное тело, чтобы продолжить кровавые игры. В мире, где мертвых поднимается с могилы, чудовищный убийца приходит за новым жертвоприношением....
But he forgot about the wards on Gittings’s door: too strong for him. He couldn’t get out of the house. He had to pull that tantrum to get you interested. I wasn’t sure what to make of you right then. I thought you’d either be useful or we’d end up having to kill you. But it turns out it wasn’t an either/or kind of proposition.’
‘I thought John knew too much about your operation to walk into a trap,’ I said, trying to push Todd’s expansive mood as far as I could. ‘How did you get him?’
Todd seemed to have momentarily forgotten his rule about the man with the knife.
He stood up and moved around to one side of me, knife in hand at the level of his waist. I could more or less see the angle he’d decided to use: an upthrust, probably to my throat, from behind and off to the side to minimise the amount of blood he got on himself.
‘Rourke isn’t alone,’ I said quickly.
‘Don’t fight it, Castor. Under the circumstances, things could be a fuck of a sight worse.’
I was already moving as his hand flashed up. I kicked with my legs, not against him – he hadn’t been stupid enough to bring himself into range – but against the desk. I pitched out and down, the blade slicing shallowly across my shoulder.
I was hoping the impact would smash the back of the chair. It didn’t. Desperately I swung myself to the left and then to the right, sawing with the handcuff chain against the unyielding bars of the chair-back.
