I walked into the main office of the mechanic’s workshop, led onward by the receptionist. In front of me was a black desk and an office chair, back toward me. It spun around, revealing a bald man with intense eyebrows.

“Welcome to my office. Thank you, Stephanie. Could you make me a cup of tea, please?”

The receptionist nodded and closed the door as she walked out. That left me alone with the boss of this workshop, in this cold, dark room.

“I’m looking for a man named Cuthbert Selys,” I said. “I found his log book. He has something that belongs to me. Or at least, belongs to my leviathan patron. Has he ever gotten a log book service here? The book suggests he received suspension repairs, but I don’t understand why that would be written in his log book.”

“If you’ve gotten tangled up with Mr Cuthbert,” the boss said, “you’re in deep trouble. He’s a dangerous man. But yes, he was here last week. Said something about delivering a magical snapper rack to a window store.”

“Why would he mention that near an auto electrician? Around Seaford, rumours fly like the seagulls. Surely he must know that.”

The mechanic leaned forward, poorly hiding a grimace. “What you need to understand about Mr Cuthbert,” he whispered, “is that he has no fear of things we normal people do. No fear of failure. No fear of death. The truth is, he’s been coming here for longer than I can remember. And he hasn’t aged at all. Not one day.”

“What you’re saying can’t be true,” I said.

“He’s a dead man walking, that one. When I was just a boy, my father owned this workshop. I remember seeing that Cuthbert fellow one day during the summer holidays. Looked exactly the same as he does now. My father said the same thing about his childhood. Cuthbert was visiting this place when it was still a stable for horses. Before cars were even invented.”

My spine felt numb. What had I gotten myself into?

– Gillan Neptune