Chapter 2Gael Murray sat in an old, scarred armchair. Bouncing his leg and trying not to give in to the jitters, but the clock was ticking, and his only hope appeared to be a mental case. Not that he hadn’t been enjoying the show, his only regret was opening the door at the exact moment he did. He could’ve stood outside and listened in, but he’d been waiting since sundown and when he’d seen them enter, he didn’t want to wait anymore.
The house had an unusual shape, narrow but deep. He couldn’t see the farthest wall from where he sat. It had the scent of a library, the light was dull, and the counter was from another century.
“How can I help you, sir?”
Gael ran a hand through his shoulder length hair. This f*****g rain was getting on his nerves, making everything damp and…curly. Not beau
