Nemesis
A Heart of Stone Novel
By D H Sidebottom
Nemesis, a Heart of Stone book
By
D H Sidebottom
Copyright © 2017
This book is a work of fiction and any resemblance to actual places, incidents and persons, living or dead, is purely coincidental.
Copyright © 2017 D H Sidebottom. Please do not copy, alter or redistribute this book.
Please secure author’s permission before sharing any extracts of this book.
Prologue
One
Two
Three
Four
Five
Six
Seven
Eight
Nine
Ten
Eleven
Twelve
Thirteen
Fourteen
Fifteen
Sixteen
Seventeen
Eighteen
Nineteen
Twenty
Twenty-one
Twenty-two
Twenty-three
Twenty-four
Twenty-five
Twenty-six
Epilogue
Prologue
Katie
I looked at the man before me; at the lines around his eyes, the creases in his forehead, and the silver strands that ran through his once thick, blonde hair.
William Jackson had aged before my eyes, as I’d grown, and I’d missed it. His blue eyes were sad as he held the long, thin envelope between his fingers, his gaze on me full of the sorrow that shone back at him through my own.
“I miss them.” I hadn’t meant to say it. It had been a simple but recurring thought in my head, and my heart. But I’d never said the words out loud.
He nodded. “You and me both. But I know that they’re both happy.”
My eyes widened and excitement made my heart beat harder. “Have you heard from them?”
Biting into his lip, he appeared confused for a moment, his eyes slicing over me as if he was surprised by my question. But, then, he sighed and shook his head. “No.” He leaned forwards and took my hand in his. “But your dad left this with me before they left.”
It had been over three months since Mum and Dad had gone, and although I missed them with all my heart, I knew they needed their peace now. They lived their lives for everyone else, and their decision to completely vanish was something I could relate to. No matter how much it hurt.
The envelope felt heavy, although physically it wasn’t, but I knew its contents would change my life.
“He was specific that I give it to you three months after he left.”
“Why?”
William shrugged, “I have no idea. Perhaps he wanted to let things settle first. Let you…move on.”
Running my fingers along the seam, I gazed at my name, scribbled in my dad’s handwriting. I could picture him, sat at his desk, his favourite pen held tightly in his long fingers as he bled his heart into the last time he would ever write my name.
It was strange, but a part of me, deep down in the very core of me, felt empty. I had lost a piece of my soul, and even though I would never admit it to myself, I knew that he was gone. Forever. Along with my husband.
“If ever you need anything, anything, Katie, you know I’m here. I loved… love your family as my own. I’m here for you.”
Tears welled in my eyes, and surprised by them, I blinked them away and smiled at William. “You will always be family, William.”
He stood up and placed a gentle kiss to my forehead. “I’ll leave you alone.”
Quickly snatching his hand, I peered up at him as he looked down at me. I saw it, in his eyes. The truth. A single tear bled from the corner of his eye, and taking a gulp, he nodded firmly. Answering my silent question. A question I had already known the answer to.
“They live in you, Katie. And I know they were so very proud of you.”
Quietly, he closed the door behind him, leaving me in the deafening silence that had enveloped me ever since Steed had died. Before, when I fell in love with a man that showed me how to be loved, the storm in my soul was ever present, its vibrancy both exciting and crippling. But Steed had settled that storm, calmed the rage inside me and allowed me to accept who I was – to love what I was. Yet, now, even that tranquillity had gone, leaving behind a numbness that was slowly consuming the woman my parents had raised to be strong and proud.
I refused to cry, to unburden the pain inside. It was grief and abhorrence that kept me going, and without it I knew I would drown in the depths of my own sickness. Bitterness made me fight another day, and until this void was filled with blood and vengeance, then my hatred would hold me up.
Slowly, carefully – terrifyingly – I slid my finger under the lip of the envelope, and I read my father’s very last words to me….
Hey, Peanut,
How ya’ doing, baby?
My God, you’re so very beautiful. From the moment I first saw you, a tiny, wriggling bundle of copper hair and pure green eyes, your beauty stole my breath. But as you grew, into the amazing woman you are today, your inner radiance shone so damn fucking bright that everyone around you just stood and stared with a breath caught in their throats. You are my piece of heaven in the hell of life, the sugar on all the sourness inside me.
You are so much like your mother that at times I have to draw breath to bring me back to reality. And, damn, if I’m not honoured to call myself your father. Loving you is a privilege, and I’m forever rich from the love you returned.
I have deliberated long and hard whether to write this letter. Because I want you to smile every fucking day. I want your radiance to outshine all the sickness and the depravation in our lives. But most of all, I want you to be happy, baby. I want you to laugh every day, to feel serenity in your soul.
I know that the contents of this letter will lead your life into a new chapter. Yet, I also know that it will grant you retribution and, hopefully, peace.
But after you wreak your havoc, I need you to promise me something. I need you to sit, with your favourite whisky and time, and I need you to think. To think hard about this life me and your mother led you to.
It’s a disease, Katie, an all-consuming, soul-eating infection that only the high of blood-spill and pain can ease its symptoms.
I’ve seen it, the white wrath that always lives in me, in your eyes, in the way you bite the tip of your tongue when you feel it start to slither its way through your veins. I’ve watched it with each swipe of your blade, and I’ve felt it in every one of your breaths. You carry me with you in ways that devastate me so very much. But you also have your mother in you, her gentle heart and her strength to do the right thing. And although I could never abandon the violence in me, I know, in the very core of me, that you can.
Both your mother and me, and your brother, love you so very much. Georgie loved you until it hurt, Katie, don’t you ever forget that, not for one day. I pray that one day you’ll be able to smile again. That you’ll love with all your heart again. And I’m not too proud to say, Steed loved you, he adored you. You should be proud of that, baby, because that’s how much of a special woman you are. You should hold your head high and live for a man that gave you smiles, and laughs, and so much love.
I love you, my beautiful girl. Thank you for loving me. Thank you for every hug, every smile, every echo of your laughter, and every bit of love you gave me, each one is treasured and locked deep inside my heart.
Please be happy, Katie. Please. If my life has counted for anything, I pray that it’s your happiness.
And now
I come to the end, but I know that his name will give you the freedom your soul craves.
Love life, baby. Love it fucking hard!
Dad xxx
The hitman who took your heart away is Tristan Hope.
One
Katie
The bite of pain freed the burst of breath that I’d been holding onto for so long. The rush of tranquillity rippled through my soul as I once again drew the blade across my skin, the grief that poured free bringing him to me once again.
“Hey, baby,” Steed whispered in my ear, his scent overwhelming me and soothing the constant ache in my chest.
My eyes closed and my head fell back onto the pillow as his lips ventured across my jawline, his soft but urgent kisses making me squirm and grip the duvet. He lowered his mouth to my chest, his tongue tracing across the slice I had inscribed across my heart, and he took it all away.
“I missed you.” His voice was liquid in my head, his gruff but quiet timbre enriching every one of my senses. I was alive, in that very moment, in the moments when he came back to me.
“I miss you, so very much.”
He tutted when the sob broke from my chest and I winced at his disappointment, urging my tears to dry. “Baby, you need to be stronger for me. This isn’t my girl; this is some hollow imitation of the woman I married.”
“I’m trying. I’m trying so hard,” I whispered, gripping the bed harder when his kisses peppered across my stomach. “I need to touch you.”
His sigh was as piercing as his irritation with me. “You know that’s not how this works.”
“But…”
I cried out when I felt the lick of leather across my bare thighs, the burn on my flesh from his belt lighting my body up and causing a wave of excitement to bolt through me. “Yes.”
“This is what you need, huh?”
“Yes.” Explosions of euphoria took me with every sharp scorch of pain, his harsh punishment taking away all the bitter sadness.
“You need to be punished?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
His question slammed everything to a halt and I paused. “You know why.” He did know why. He was the only one who knew me so intimately. “Because…Because of…” The words refused to leave me, their stubbornness making this all the harder to bear.
“Because you killed him?”
I flinched at his frankness, but nodded. “Yes. Because I killed him.”
His mouth moved lower and I parted my legs for him. His quiet chuckle brought me a smile, the sound of it like a balm to the many wounds inside me.
“I always loved your laugh.”
“I know you did.” He sighed. “I can’t even remember what yours sounds like anymore.” The sadness in him bled water into my eyes and I shook them away.
His tongue tickled my clit and my body bucked, the ghost of his tender devotion stimulating every one of my senses. “Harder, Steed.”
Answering me, he encased my clit between his lips and bit down gently. My climax shattered me, its intensity ripping his name from me. Fluid leaked between my thighs as I gripped the duvet and rode through the devastating pleasure, the rapture only one man could ever rain on me tearing me apart.
My voice was choked when I whispered his name as an echo to the scream, but the sound of a different voice had my eyes snapping open.
“Hey, Sis. Miss me?”
Horror fisted the aftershocks from my orgasm and squeezed my lungs so tightly that I spluttered on the breath that rushed up my throat.
His dark eyes locked onto mine, the utter hatred he looked at me with boring through me and searing into my soul.
My head shook and I mutely scrambled up the bed, pressing back into the headboard the further I tried to escape him. Pure abhorrence drenched all the oxygen in the air, making it hard to breathe. “No. No.”
He cocked his head, his eyes fixing on me. “No? You haven’t missed me?”
“George.”
His smile was both tragic and disturbing. “Even in the afterlife that bastard couldn’t give me any peace. He just had to follow, had to haunt me even in death. He’s the epitome of evil, our father. Hell is now consumed by his fucking badness.”
This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. Only Steed ever came to me in the moments of my abuse. Only ever Steed.
“George.” I couldn’t form a coherent word, my mind breaking with the image of him crawling up the bed towards me. The gaping hole in the top of his head mocked me, his brain and skull on display. He’d thrust my mother’s gun into his mouth and blown a route through his top palate and straight through the core of his brain. And, as if I would ever forget, it now taunted me, closing in on me as I tried in vain to escape him.
“Take a good look, Sis. This is me now. I like to think I destroyed all the bad parts of my mind with that single bullet, the parts I inherited from the cunt, but I know it’s not in my head. It’s in my soul, in my veins. Just like it rides through you. Evil. Sin. It’s us, Katie. We can’t escape it, no matter how hard we try. We were born to it, it’s in our genes, woven into our DNA.”
“I can’t…” My head shook and my bones trembled when he closed in on me. Brain matter plopped onto my chest, covering my own blood with my brother’s; polluting the impression of Steed’s tender kisses with gore and foulness.
I pushed out at him, forcing my hands into the top of his head to shove him back. The squelch, as my fingers sunk into his brain, ripped a scream from me when the remainder of his skull crumbled between my fingers. Vomit heaved from me, surging from me in a torrent of terror. He fell on top of me, the weight of his deadness crushing my chest, and I kicked out, more screams rupturing the darkness of my bedroom.
“Please…” My plea went unheard. He clawed at me, his fingers digging into my cut flesh as he tried to rip me open and climb inside me.
“We were together in the womb, Sis. Our bodies were meant to be as one.”
Another scream pierced my ears as his fingers prised open the slice I had summoned a ghost with. The sight of my own heart, pumping hardily under the cage of my breastbone, shocked my mind back into reality.
I gasped, groping at the darkness around me as I tried to catch a breath. My hands instinctively came to my chest. A long and deep cut under my fingers brought panic, but it was sealed, closed.
Vomit rushed from me and I hung over the edge of the bed and heaved the contents of my stomach onto the carpet, sobs of horror and fear causing me to splutter and choke.
Never had George visited me in the times of my insanity. It had only ever been my husband. Grief was drowning me, slowly consuming me in its persecution.
As if sensing my distress, my phone rang and I knew without looking that it was Mark, our friendship taking us beyond the realms of mere association.
“Hey, sweet. You okay?”
I tried to draw breath, and Mark, sensing my horror, spoke for me. “I’m on my way.”
He was my best friend, the light in all the darkness that constantly consumed me. Like my mother, I found an inner peace in a male friend. Females were full of bullshit and drama that I couldn’t cope with, and I found men to be more honest, their inner filters broken but easier to take.
Flicking on the light, I snatched up the photo frame from beside my bed and glued my eyes to Steed’s. It was a carefree photo, taken just before our wedding. His eyes adored me, his fingers holding my chin as he tipped my face to him and he told the world how much he loved me, how much I brought the world to his feet.
“I miss you, you arse!”
He didn’t answer me; he never did unless I split my skin and allowed his ghost to consume me. I did wonder, many times, if I was crazy. Yet, I knew, deep within me, that he loved me enough to take the trek from Hell to settle the misery inside me whenever it took precedence.
Within the hour Mark was curled up beside me, his arms around me and his love tenderly rocking my mind into submission.
“It’ll be okay, sweet. I promise. I promi
se to make it all okay.”
I nodded, not feeling his conviction. Because until I felt Tristan Hope’s blood coat my blade, his last breath whisper his apology, and the acceptance of defeat in his eyes, it would never be okay again.
***
Mark smiled at me from where he stood making waffles on my kitchen side. “Morning. You feeling better?”
I smiled, nodding as I poured coffee from the pot he had prepared. I always wondered where the hell he got his domestic skills from. Mark was the cruellest of my men, he showed absolutely no mercy on the job, and he didn’t feel remorse like most of us did. When I say ‘most of us’ I excluded myself. I was like Mark in so many ways, my thirst for violence and his hunger for destruction making us the perfect partners. It wasn’t often we doubled up on a job, but when we did there was only ever Mark that I would trust one hundred and ten percent. The rest of my men, and Nola, the only female on my team, I trusted one hundred percent.
“Yeah, I’m good.”
He looked at me sceptically, then turned back to check on breakfast. “I seriously doubt that. You had another nightmare.”
The gulp of coffee that I’d just swallowed scorched my throat when I forced it down. “Sorry if I woke you.”
Scowling at me, he shook his head. “You know me better than to apologise.”
Signalling for me to sit, I sighed and slid into the chair when he placed a plate of steaming cinnamon waffles down in front of me.
“Seriously, Katie, I’m worried about you. You’re not sleeping, you’re drinking more…”
I held up a hand to halt him but ignoring me he carried on.
“…And you have some deluded fantasy that slicing yourself brings your husband back.”
I flinched, staring at him. I knew Mark and myself were close but I hadn’t realised he was that perceptive. My mouth fell open and he popped a forkful of waffle inside, giving me a gentle smile.
“Don’t look at me like that, like I don’t know my own best friend. Even Jared has mentioned your health to me. These guys trust you, trust you to have their back. That means it’s up to me to make sure you’re on the ball. And refusing to grieve is hurting you, so it hurts me.”
Nemesis: Katie's story (Heart of Stone Book 15) Page 1
