Simon steered through the claustrophobic buildings that made up the back streets of Louth. He weaved the powerful car effortlessly in and out of the traffic heading towards Fairways, Roberts’s old house. He had purchased the property, via one of his corporations, as soon as the fuss had died down. None of his friends knew he owned it, and he had every intention of keeping the property a secret. His first job had been to visit the cellar. The hell bat had been waiting hungry and annoyed, and it had launched itself at Simon. Still weak, he had struggled to fight the beast off, ending up using magic to send it back into the pit and return it to the dimension from which it came. As it disappeared, a flash surrounded him, knocking him from his feet.
Once he recovered, he had removed all the torture equipment and cleaned the place up before locking the door and leaving it.
He pulled into the drive. The gardens no longer looked cared for. Thought still beautiful, weeds were invading the flower beds and the grass was in desperate need of cutting. He made a note to hire a garden maintenance company. He left the car and walked to the door. It opened before he had time to knock.
A thin liver spotted hand was offered for him to shake. “I’m Dr. Bryce, and you must be Mr. Greaves.”
Simon took the hand, finding it cold and firm, the shake a little unpleasant, like one from a funeral director who really despises you. He shook himself to clear the thought. This was bad enough, no need for hysteria. The doctor was a small man with sparse hair, thick glasses and a pasty complexion. He was wearing a white coat with a stethoscope hung round his neck. Simon wanted to giggle at the cliché, but bit back and stifled his smile.
“Come in, come in.” The doctor moved before him, fussing as he entered the house. “I have just what you want, come through and meet Tracey.” He led the way through the kitchen. Annoyance niggled at Simon when he saw pots piled on the work surface and an overflowing ashtray on the table of the once pristine room. The place smelt of stale food and cigarettes.
“This is not acceptable.” Simon pointed at the dirty surface. “She should not be smoking if she is to have my child.”
“The cigarettes are mine. She could not smoke with her condition. Once the deal is done, she will comply with any requests you make. Do you have the money?”
“Yes, let’s go through.” Simon nodded towards the door, his face kept neutral as he fought down his annoyance.
They entered the living room. On the sofa was a young girl. Her unwashed brown hair hung to her shoulders. She was thin with large doe eyes, but not unattractive. As they entered, she started to cough. The act racked her body, doubling her over with pain. She raised a tiny hand. A tissue clasped in it was pushed to her mouth.
Controlling the cough, she turned to face the two men; a shy smile appeared on her face.
Simon walked towards her feeling a pang of guilt. “You want a child?” he asked, holding her weak gaze in his.
“Yes, desperately. It’s all I want.” She looked up at him, her huge liquid eyes almost begging. She lowered her gaze as heat spread across her pale complexion.
“You know there is a good chance that it will suffer your fate, will live with Cystic Fibrosis and will die an early death?” Simon’s voice was neutral, uncaring.
“Yes, I accept that. My own life has been crap, but I still want to live and I need a baby.” She raised a shaky hand, running it through lank hair. Her lip quivered with barely controlled emotion.
“You know I want the child on its thirtieth birthday?”
“Yes.”
Simon’s face was hard. “You don’t mind?”
She leaned back. “Hey mister, I’m sixteen. If I make thirty, it will be a miracle. The deal was if the child is healthy, it’s mine. If not, at thirty it’s yours. You see if you give me and my baby a luxury life for however many years we have. I think we win. You keep me and pay all my expenses plus some pocket money for life, that’s the deal.”
“That’s the deal.” Simon offered her his hand.
“Cool.” She took the offered hand.
The hand felt warm and clammy and reminded him of limp bacon. He swallowed a touch of nausea. Discarding her hand, he mustered a smile and nodded to the doctor. Unspoken agreement passed between them as they walked back to the kitchen. “You can ensure the child carries the Gene?” Simon asked eyes wide.
“Yes, yes it will be easy.” As the doctor nodded, his glasses slipped down his nose.
“You can keep it alive until the time I need it?”
“That will be harder, and may be painful for the child, but yes I can do it.”
Simon shook the man’s cold hand, expecting his glasses to drop from the end of his nose as he pumped enthusiastically.
He could feel an excitement build inside him as the deal for his immortality was struck.
He whistled as he got back into the Audi, his heart lifted at the thought of Jenny and their coming wedding.
The end.
Read on for the first chapter of Caroline’s terrifying new novel Daddy Won’t Kill you.
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Daddy Won’t Kill You – Bonus Chapter
A black SUV stood in front of a large town house. The paintwork polished so deeply you could fall into it, but the gloss doesn’t hide the rust dotted along the wheel arches, or the scratch on the rear panel. The car was long past new.
The doors stood open making the car look like a giant beetle poised pre-flight. In the rear seat, six year old Lucy fidgeted against the faded leather. Her angelic face surrounded by golden curls and lit with excitement as she jiggled in her seat. She wanted this trip so badly, wanted it to be perfect, like the trips she remembered, the long walks with dad, coming back to the smell of mummy’s pies, and falling asleep on the sofa. She believed that if she imagined it perfect then that was how it would be.
Next to her nine year old Chase had his head buried in a book about dragons. He had read it so many times he could quote whole passages, but still the story was one of his favorites. He was also deeply excited, and had read the same passage of the book three times now, unable to concentrate, but he pretended to be engrossed in the story knowing that it would drive his sister wild.
Lucy jiggled again and poked his arm. He feigned indifference, keeping his eyes down, hidden by wavy brown hair that flopped across his face. She grabbed for his book, her clumsy fingers slipping from the pages as he pulled it away, with a stern expression. He had to look down quickly as a smile threatened to spoil his ruse. He stared at the words, then closed his eyes and bit down to prevent giggles from bursting from him.
“I can’t wait,” Lucy said giggling with anticipation. “Aren’t you excited?”
Chase kept his head down, but the book began to shake as barely suppressed laughter shook his shoulders. He raised his head and stuck out his tongue, which caused Lucy to giggle uncontrollably. Folding the book in his lap he turned in the seat. “A week in a cabin with you... sounds like torture.” But his smile told a different story.
Lucy grabbed for the book again and the car was filled with happy laughter.
“Jesus, I’m on the phone.” Over at the house Lauren frowned at Steve as she exited the front door.
In the car Lucy seemed to wilt, her excitement extinguished like a daisy too close to a flame. She glanced across the garden, towards the front door. The bright colors of the summer flowers were fading. They desperately clung onto life as the seasons began to change. They seemed sad to her and lowered her mood even more. Stood in front of a large, pale, blue house Lauren, her mum stood with a phone glued to her ear. Her shoulders were squared, her head held high and her brow furrowed with concentration.
Lucy
thought she was the most beautiful woman ever. But today her long, curly, blond hair was pulled back severely and fastened in a pony tail, which bounced angrily as she moved. She wore her normal jeans and a white blouse, somehow making this casual gear look sophisticated and elegant. Lucy wished she was at home more.
Standing at her side was Steve, the children’s father. His head was down, his shoulders slumped. The stance made him seem smaller than he was and he fidgeted almost as much as Lucy. Once proud of his strength he looked lost and clumsy, like a boy caught in some heinous act and called before the principal.
Lauren turned her back to him and talked into the phone, “Just for a week.” She nodded her head at the reply and then continued. “I’ll try and get back earlier... No, there’s no signal at the cabin.” She ended the call and turned back, hiding the fatigue that seemed to force her almost to her knees.
“Are we ready?” Steve asked his eyes almost pleading.
She gave him a withering look. “I should be working. We need the money more than we need this holiday.”
The emphasis on the, I and we, made Steve cringe, he couldn’t hold her eyes and glanced across at the car. The children were sat quietly, like crash test dummies waiting for the explosion. Their eyes forwards, as they pretended not to hear. He hated how their problems were affecting the kids. They were often quiet now, sliding into their own little worlds as they tried to ignore the fights their parents had.
“We promised them a holiday, remember,” Steve almost whispered. “Lauren, please for them.”
“Okay, I do miss being with the pumpkins.”
Lauren smiled and her face was transformed into the gentle, caring wife that he loved so much, would she ever forgive him for losing his job?
***
Dusk was falling around a lonely, dilapidated cottage. It brought a feeling of depression to the day, as if a dirty blanket was being dropped over something best left hidden. The air was windless, and nothing disturbed the preternatural quiet that surrounded the property. It was almost like the world held its breath, waiting for this moment to pass.
Strangled weeds pushed through a worn path which led from the house and terminated at the road. A crumbled gate post leaned away from the path, and a tatter of yellow crime scene tape hung forlornly down the pitted concrete. Behind the post a removal van hulked at the curb. Its carnivorous doors were open and waited hungrily for the remnants of life that it would swallow whole, and regurgitate far from here.
A crow cawed a desperate and lonely sound, from somewhere behind the cottage, just as the tattered frame door was slammed open by a man in dark overalls. He pushed through the door with his back, an easy chair clutched in his hands. He maneuvered around the small door, easing the chair through the frame and stepped towards the path. Behind him, a second workman exited the house. He carried a wooden rocking chair, held away from his body as if it was distasteful, unclean. His dark brown eyes flicked from the chair to the cottage and back again, as sweat slowly traced a line down the stubble on his cheek. He wanted to put it down, to run from here and to spend the rest of the night in a scorching shower, but he would not show his fear and followed his colleague.
The men arrived at the van, and the easy chair was worked into the last remaining space, between boxes, an old fashioned dresser a bed and furniture that all appeared to come from a different era. Nervous glances passed between them as they realized the rocker wouldn’t fit. They looked at the house, silhouetted in the dark and back at the van. Sat on the roof of the cottage a large, ink black crow cawed out a challenge and before them the chair rocked on the concrete.
They stepped backed, one towards the van, the other away. Their job was to clear the property, but darkness was falling and they wouldn’t come back.
The first man, the younger of the two, reached behind him and pulled cardboard from one of the packing boxes. With a pen from his pocket, he wrote something on it and placed it in the rocking chair.
The two men laughed a false, hollow sound and walked to the front of the van. As they drove away, the rocking chair was shrouded in moonlight. It started to move, backwards and forwards it rocked despite the stillness of the night.
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Table of Contents
Prologue
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Chapter Thirty-Nine
Chapter Forty
Chapter Forty-One
Chapter Forty-Two
Chapter Forty-Three
Chapter Forty-Four
Chapter Forty-Five
Chapter Forty-Six
Chapter Forty-Seven
Chapter Forty-Eight
Epilogue
Daddy Won’t Kill You – Bonus Chapter
Table of Contents
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