It’s late. The morning got up without him and left him behind. The only time he’s ever been in bed after eleven was when he had the flu. Caleb aches as he gets up, like his limbs have been glued down to his mattress for hours. His neck is braced-in-a-rollercoaster stiff. Dreams have attacked him all night, and he feels worse than before he dragged himself home.
Clouds are already gathering. They’re deep, heavy and stacked; a dark inverted version of Daisy Hill. Looking at it gives him the shivers. He thinks of hollow eyes and bursting graves. He thinks of Neuman, and people in suits.
He has to go up there, though. He has no answers, only confusion.
He dresses quickly, tries not to panic about whether or not Neuman is still in Pernicious gardens and what she might be getting up to. Whatever happens, he’s not going up there, he’s not hunting that thing again. Let Misha and the suits go hunting.
With any luck that might be exactly what they’re doing. He might just get himself a bit of space to do some investigating.