The Shadow of the Wind (The Cemetery of Forgotten 1)

“Will I go deaf?”

“I don’t know about that, but a bit more beating and you’d have certainly been left bordering on the vegetative. That troglodyte Mr. Aguilar almost pulped your gray cells.”

“It wasn’t Mr. Aguilar who beat me. It was Tomás.”

“Tomás? Your friend? The inventor?”

I nodded.

“You must have done something to deserve it.”

“Bea has left home…” I began.

Fermín frowned. “Go on.”

“She’s pregnant.”

Fermín was looking at me openmouthed. For once his expression was impenetrable.

“Don’t look at me like that, Fermín, please.”

“What do you want me to do? Start handing out cigars?”

I tried to get up, but the pain and Fermín’s hands stopped me.

“I’ve got to find her, Fermín.”

“Steady, there. You’re not in any fit state to go anywhere. Tell me where the girl is, and I’ll go and find her.”

“I don’t know where she is.”

“I’m going to have to ask you to be more specific.”

Don Federico appeared around the door carrying a cup of steaming broth. He smiled at me warmly.

“How are you feeling, Daniel?”

“Much better, thanks, Don Federico.”

“Take a couple of these pills with the soup.”

He glanced briefly at Fermín, who nodded.

“They’re painkillers.”

I swallowed the pills and sipped the cup of broth, which tasted of sherry. Don Federico, the soul of discretion, left the room and closed the door. It was then I noticed that Fermín had Nuria Monfort’s manuscript on his lap. The clock ticking on the bedside table showed one o’clock—in the afternoon, I supposed.

“Is it still snowing?”

“That’s an understatement. This is a powdery version of the Flood.”

“Have you read it?” I asked.

Fermín simply nodded.

“I must find Bea before it’s too late. I think I know where she is.”

I sat up in bed, pushing Fermín’s arms aside. I looked around me. The walls swayed like weeds at the bottom of a pond. The ceiling seemed to be moving away. I could barely hold myself upright. Fermín effortlessly laid me back on the bed again.