The Horn and the Watcher

Dawn crept over Berriedale. Karl Jenkins, exhausted from his overnight vigil, stretched in the driver's seat of his Holden, his hand struck the steering wheel harder than intended, triggering the horn in a blast that shattered the morning quiet. Birds exploded from trees whilst Karl flinched, smacking his head against the roof. The noise represented a catastrophic failure of his covert surveillance—announcing his presence to every living creature within a hundred-metre radius.

Following the stillness that settled after the horn's echo faded, movement caught Karl's attention. The second-floor lounge blinds shifted slightly, just enough to suggest someone had touched them from behind. Then a face appeared—pale, oval, a sliver of features caught between the slats. Not enough to identify, but enough to confirm: human, alive, watching. The face withdrew as quickly as it had appeared, but Karl had seen it. Someone was in the house, possibly having watched him throughout the night. The certainty settled into his bones—this wasn't speculation anymore. Someone occupied the residence, and his presence had been detected.

Inside that residence, Beatrix Cramer had arrived through a Portal shortly before dawn, stepping through from Clivilius and into Luke Smith's living room. She'd slept poorly, her head pounding despite excessive painkillers. The scent of coffee greeted her as she emerged into the shared kitchen-living area where Luke stood, bleary-eyed and tousled, cradling a chipped mug.

The morning had begun with mundane frustrations—empty fridge, muesli bars for breakfast, discussions about recruiting Grant Ironbach whilst Luke arranged to meet construction engineer Adrian at the Collinsvale property. Then the horn shattered everything. The long, loud blast cut through the quiet like an alarm, its abruptness startling in the peaceful morning.

Beatrix reacted instantly, movements quick and sharp as she moved to the window. Her fingers slid between the vertical blinds, parting them with stealth. What she saw sent shock through her system: Karl Jenkins sat in a vehicle across the road. She recognised him immediately despite the brief glimpse, every instinct from her past screaming warnings.

She recoiled like she'd been struck, blinds snapping shut with a sharp clatter. Luke, attempting reassurance, suggested it was merely hoons on the road—always a possibility given the location. But Beatrix knew better. Her head shook with certainty as she declared the house was being watched. When Luke asked if she'd recognised the person, she lied smoothly: too quick to see properly. The dishonesty was instinctive—speaking Karl's name would make his presence undeniably real, would require explanations she wasn't prepared to give.

Luke gestured towards the window, encouraging her to look again. She approached cautiously, sliding her palm between the blinds once more. Her whispered hiss carried urgency: he's gone. Not the car—the man himself had left the vehicle. The threat had escalated from passive observation to active approach. Panic edged into her voice as she announced they needed to leave immediately.

Without waiting for debate or further discussion, Beatrix reached for her Portal Key. Her fingers tightened around its shape like a lifeline as she aimed it at the wall, pressing the activation with force that barely concealed the tremor in her hands. Light bloomed as the Portal opened against the living room surface, reality bending to create passage between dimensions.

She stepped through, leaving behind Luke's house, the approaching threat, and the sickening certainty that Karl's reappearance meant the past was no longer content to stay buried. The wall returned to its ordinary state behind her—charcoal-coloured and unremarkable—as if nothing extraordinary had occurred. But for Luke, suddenly alone in a room too quiet, the illusion of normality had shattered completely. A loud knock at the front door confirmed what Beatrix's flight had warned: the threat she'd recognised had arrived at his doorstep.