Sins of the Father (Bloody Marytown Book 1)

by Mansell, Lucie J.

  Martha bit her tongue. It would do no good to openly disagree with her sister right then. The girl was grieving and had seemingly had a very different upbringing to what Martha herself was made to endure. She did not see things in the same way and did not know the truth. Breaking that illusion now would only cause conflict and Martha had not come back for that.

  Very carefully, she urged, ‘Why don’t you tell me what you think happened to him?’

  ‘It was about a month ago,’ Amanda started, inhaling a deep, shaking breath. ‘It was the middle of the night. I had been out with some friends and had gone to bed as soon as I got home. Dad had been in the study. I poked my head in to say goodnight before going up. I didn’t see Mum. She must have already been in bed herself. She called it a night a lot earlier than us most of the time and I never wanted to disturb her once she was upstairs.’

  Martha nodded. All of what her sister was saying seemed plausible, standard fare for an evening within the Ford household. She had rather enjoyed the peaceful hours after her parents had retired to their individual recreations. Unlike Amanda however, she would on occasion go and sit with their mother while she read before going to sleep, conversing or simply being near one another in the sanctuary of their blessedly peaceful company.

  ‘I woke up at 4 am,’ Amanda continued. ‘I knew that something was wrong, that he was in trouble. I contemplated going to check on him in bed but he had still been in the study when I saw him. It wasn’t unusual for him to work through the night, especially in recent years so I just went straight to the study and knocked on the door. There was no answer. He kept a spare key in the bureau downstairs, so I fetched it and unlocked the door.’

  She paused, closing her eyes. Martha did not push, allowing her to work her own way through whatever mental horror was preventing her words from coming forth on their own. She contemplated offering her physical comfort again but hesitated. There’d be time for that later.

  She did know, however, that what her sister naively referred to as the bureau was in fact a drinks cabinet and it was no great secret that Mr. Ford hid a lot in there that he did not want other people to put their grubby little hands on. He would not have shared the knowledge that the key was in there with anybody, not even his favoured offspring. Seemed like the golden girl was a little bit more resourceful than Martha might have begrudgingly given her credit for.

  ‘The study was empty,’ Amanda said. ‘I was confused because I had seen him in there, the door had been locked from inside and the lamps were still lit. The veranda doors were wide open and it was really windy. The curtains looked like they were alive and dancing…’ She swallowed hard. ‘I knew. Before I even looked down, I knew. I took forever to cross the room and look outside, look down onto the driveway…’

  ‘It’s alright,’ Martha intervened. ‘I don’t need to know any more than that.’

  Amanda nodded, sighing out a breath in gratitude.

  ‘There’s one thing that I’m not clear about though. Esther said that Gale found him.’

  ‘No,’ she shook her head confused. ‘It was me.’

  Perplexed, Martha couldn’t seem to think of why Esther might lie about that. But she did not press the issue. Not when her sister was so upset. Instead she pointed out, ‘You also said that you saw him before you went down to the study. What did you mean by that?’

  ‘Oh,’ she blushed, as if she were suddenly a little bit embarrassed.

  ‘I don’t mean to pry,’ Martha explained. ‘But if you’re sure that his death wasn’t an accident then I’m going to need a little bit more. I’m not from here anymore and there’s going to be people that aren’t happy to see me. If the police got this wrong, it’s going to ruffle feathers. I’m not afraid to stand up for what you believe, Amanda. I might not have been around most of your life but you’re my sister. We’re family. But nothing you told me so far is going to change things. I’m sorry but that’s just the way that it is.’

  ‘You don’t need to apologise. I’m not going to judge you for wanting to protect yourself when you’ve come back here just for me.’ She paused for a brief pause. ‘I don’t understand your life now. I don’t know who you are, who you’ve become but we are family, Martha. Mum… If anybody could help her get through this, it’s you. The two of you were always so close. She… She’ll get better now you are here. I know that she will.’

  ‘I hope so.’

  ‘Aunt Esther has been a godsend. She’s been here ever since it happened, spends most days talking to Mum, even though she barely ever responds. It’s tough but she never lets it show. Just says that Gale would do the same thing for her, if she needed to.’

  Martha couldn’t help but smile. ‘She really would.’

  ‘Mum never accepted that you were gone for good, you know?’

  ‘So I believe.’

  ‘I know that she went to meet you that one time, a couple of years after you went away.’ The lines of her pretty face fell into what appeared to be concentration. It suddenly reminded Martha of the ‘so-serious’ face that she would have teased her over when she was a little girl because it was so at odds with her usual cheerful demeanour. ‘When she came back on her own, everybody expected her to be sad but she wasn’t. She was happier than she had been for a long time. I think she expected you to come home even though she said that you wouldn’t.’

  Martha nodded. ‘It’s hard to let go sometimes.’

  ‘Where did you go?’ Amanda asked before quickly covering her mouth as if she had not meant to blurt the question out. ‘Sorry. It doesn’t matter. You’re here now. That’s important.’

  Martha looked down at her feet, frustrated. Not with Amanda but with herself, her past, the present and everything in between. It was ludicrous to think that she could be here and not have to answer the awkward questions. Even if she brushed them off, the speculation would continue. It was just that kind of town. She had forgotten about that. Damn it.

  ‘I tell you what,’ she offered. ‘At the moment, I’m not even sure that I should be here and the reasons are far too complicated to explain. Once we get through this, I give you my word that I will try to answer any and all questions that you have. I promise that, Amanda.’

  After a long moment of contemplation, she smiled. ‘Thank-you.’

  ‘Now,’ Martha hedged. ‘Tell me what you meant when that you said that you saw him.’

  Amanda went back to looking a little bit embarrassed. Looked at her feet, bit her lower lip a tiny bit before glancing back up. She smiled. Coyly.

  ‘What?’ Martha pressed. ‘You’re looking at me as if I’m missing something.’

  ‘I think if you weren’t shielding so tightly, you wouldn’t have missed it at all.’

  That caught her completely off guard. The raw emotions of the reunion has caused her to go into it with her toughest mental and emotional defences in place – basic survival – but it had dulled her senses, made her unaware of something that she should probably have known or at the very least considered, given that Amanda was her sister. They were genetically related.

  She was like Martha. She was… gifted.

  ‘You saw him,’ she said, unable to mask the gentle affection in her voice.

  ‘I saw him.’

  ‘Have you always been able to see things pre-cognitively?’

  ‘Since I reached puberty, pretty much.’ She nodded. Her tone was prideful but not arrogant, as if she simply saw her unusual nature as an extension of her person that was so normal, like her eye colour or her shoe size.

  Martha could not wonder how she had come to be so comfortable about it. ‘Does everybody know what you can do?’

  ‘You mean Mum & Dad?’ Amanda spoke out loud her inference. ‘Of course they do… Or did. Mum knows. Dad knew it too.’

  ‘And he was okay with it?’ Martha asked incredulously.

  ‘Yeah,’ she replied, looking somewhat confused. ‘Why wouldn’t he be?’

  After a long moment, Martha shook her head. ‘
It’s nothing… Doesn’t matter.’

  ‘Of course he was a complete null,’ the younger sister continued. ‘He never really got it, not like Mum does. You know, when things started to happen with me, she was so supportive. I was a mess at, times because I didn’t know what was happening and it got scary. But she told me all about you. About how much you struggled and it made me feel better. Less like a freak.’

  ‘And him?’

  ‘You know Dad,’ she shrugged. ‘He took me aside one day, sat me down at the kitchen table. He told me that whatever happened I was his daughter and he was proud of me. I would always be his daughter. And that he loved me.’

  ‘Must have been nice.’

  Amanda nodded. If she had at all noticed the resentment that had just bristled through her sibling, she decided to brush past it. Smart. That line of questioning, like so many others, only led to dangerous answers. She wasn’t ready for them. Maybe never would be.

  ‘Is that your only ability?’ Martha asked, burying her personal feelings.

  ‘Not really. There have been some other things.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘I have a… friend,’ she explained carefully. ‘He’s psychic and really, very talented. He has been trying to get me to explore my abilities further. I’m not sure about it but between us we realised that we could talk to each other over small distances. And I can hear what he’s thinking at times… You know, when he lets me. Like I said, he’s very good at what he does.’

  Martha acknowledged what her sister was telling her with a small amount of amusement that she decided that she would explore further, to try and lighten the mood a little bit and draw the conversation away from the minefield of topics that could blow it all up in their faces.

  Raising an eyebrow, she asked, ‘A friend, huh?’

  Amanda visibly blushed. ‘He’s my boyfriend.’

  ‘Of course he is.’

  ‘He’s really nice,’ she very quickly interjected. ‘And fun. He doesn’t take himself too seriously but he cares. And is helping me through all of this.’

  ‘That’s good. I’m happy that you have somebody.’

  ‘Do you?’ Amanda asked before quickly explaining her questioning. ‘You don’t have to answer that if you don’t want to. I know I said that I wouldn’t pry. I just need to know… Are you happy, where you live now? Do you have support? Any friends?’

  Martha had to think about that, finding herself torn between a need to maintain control over the difficult things that she could not easily explain and a desire to share something that was positive and personal with her sister. Her answer was as honest as she could easily make it, ‘It’s difficult at times. Things are not always easy. What I have, I had to earn but it’s not like it can be here. I have purpose and commitments. I’ve made a life for myself there.’

  ‘Will you tell me more about it, after we have sorted things out here?’

  Martha smiled softly at the earnest plea. ‘We’ll see.’

  The blonde girl smiled, a genuinely happy smile that Martha really did not want to spoil so she opted not to. Instead she said, ‘We still need to go over what happened that night but it doesn’t have to be now. I just wanted to come and see you, to let you know that I am here.’

  Amanda’s eyes widened a little in a moment of mild panic. ‘You’re staying, right?’

  ‘For as long as I can,’ Martha assured her.

  She smiled, letting out an audible, relieved breath. ‘It’s really good that you are here with us. Things will get better now. I’m sure of it.’

  Martha was not entirely convinced about it. Not many things had ever been made better by her presence. However her sister’s optimism was sweet and she tried to let it infect her too. Sadly though the truth was that she was unconvinced by a lot of what she had been told. Despite what her sister believed, Martha had known for a very long time that Mr Ford had been a bastard, a drunk and an all-round terrible human being and she sincerely doubted that time had made much of a dent in that sparkling personality. If the police had ruled his death as accidental, it was most likely that he fell. Or thought that he could fly. Idiot. His death was of no interest to her but she would placate her sister and do whatever it took to make her mother better.

  They were her family. And she would not let them suffer in silence.

  She would stay in Marytown. For as long as it took.

  Chapter 6

  Two miles outside of Marytown, in a small rural pub called The Blackthorn Arms, he waited, sitting alone, nursing a pint of dark ale that he was never going to drink.

  Nobody paid him much attention, which should have been strange given how unlike all of the other patrons he was. He didn’t belong here, amongst the workers, fresh off their various menial shifts and their loved ones but they chose to ignore him, pre-occupied with their lowly existences. That was one of the reasons he had picked the location out. It was popular enough to be busy, yet remote enough to be off the so-called beaten track. Even his arrival had gone barely noticed. The tall, dark-haired gentleman keeping the bar had been cordial enough when asking him what he wished to purchase but had not pried, despite his eyes widening ever so slightly at his presence. He simply served his patron and then went about his business. Job done.

  He had taken refuge at a corner table which gave him a clear view of the bar, the small dining lounge and the main entrance. Tactical positioning. To the potential onlooker, he was just another person, drowning his sorrows. The truth was far different but they would never learn of it from him. He would sit there in silence. He would wait. It was his duty.

  If only he could stop remembering the last time he visited the area.

  Thirteen mortal years had passed and the memories were still fresh and clear. The events of that day haunted him, in spite of everything he had done to make it right. In truth, he would prefer to stay far away from these lands but his protégé had gazed up at him with her big copper brown eyes and pleaded with him until he had not only sanctioned the excursion but offered to personally escort her to the boundary. Where it all began for the two of them. Foolish. So very foolish. And as he sat, his back to the cushioned barroom seat, he fought the urge to follow her into that cursed place and drag her away. By force if necessary.

  Glancing up at the large, ornamental clock above the mahogany bar, he checked off the minutes since they had parted ways. More than enough time for her to reach her destination. He found himself wondering how she had been received, whether her fears were unfounded. In spite of himself, he simultaneously hoped that she had been greeted with big smiles and open arms or immediately cast back out in shame so that he could finally be done with this and take her home.

  Her real home. Where she belonged.

  The atmosphere within the public house crackled with an unrestrained energy that only frustrated him further. In the grand scheme of things his ability to sense the emotional nuances within a building was new and at times, he still found it unnerving. As a skill, it was incredibly useful though and he could not deny that it had enhanced his competence in both combat and in diplomatic negotiations but it was not his. It was hers. They were… connected now.

  He closed his eyes so that he could focus better, reached out with his mind. She was close but that was an imprecise term. Their bond hand been tested in the field and there could be great distance between them without either of their abilities diminishing. She was within the border of Marytown, of that much he was certain. He wished he was able to zero in a bit more accurately but there was something blocking him. Something mystical. He shouldn’t have been shocked. It was not a great secret that the town had been built upon oaths far darker than any foundations should possess. But now it annoyed him. He wanted to know that she was alright but the only way he was going to be able to do that reliably would be to physically track her and he could not take that risk. He had to stay where he was, had to wait. He knew that but it was so very tough.

  The need to protect her gripped him from somewh
ere deep within. His soul, perhaps? It was hard to pinpoint exactly. In all the years that had passed since they met, they had been apart for small amounts of time but never had it felt so grievous, not even during those first few years when he had been certain that she was lost to him. It was as if a part of him was missing, more important than a limb but essential nonetheless. All of his instincts were screaming at him to go after her, head right into hostile territory, if only to lay eyes upon her. Utterly ridiculous.

  ‘Well, I’d say that depends entirely on your circumstances,’ a male voice interrupted his thoughts. Stefan snapped his eyes open, attention focusing upon the intruder as fast as a slaver cracking a whip. His gaze fell squarely upon the barman, who had seemingly been doing his job, collecting glasses. He had a cloth in his hands which he was deftly sliding across the finished surface of a nearby table, not even looking at the man he had spoken to.

  He grunted. ‘Excuse me?’

  ‘Sorry,’ the guy responded. ‘You were mumbling. Thought you were talking to me.’

  ‘I wasn’t.’

  Without so much as a by-your-leave, the man shrugged before turning away, making his way back to the bar where he stacked the dirty glasses into a silver, waist-high appliance and tossed his cleaning cloth back from whence it came. Stefan watched him like a hawk for far longer than was necessary to ascertain that he did not have some sort of hidden agenda. The man was not what he would call a hard-worker but he smiled genuinely to the next handful of people that he served and the local populace seemed to like him, treating him as one of their own.

  Still, Stefan knew very well that appearances could be deceptive and since he was loathe to admit that he had indeed been ‘mumbling’ out loud as he thought about his protégé, out there all by herself, he decided that he had outstayed his welcome and found his feet, walking with a sense of purpose out of the door and into the night. He could wait outside, perhaps a little bit further up the road, away from others that might cause distraction when he needed to have all of his wits about him. He had a duty, had made a promise to somebody who meant more to him than his own self and where he hailed from solemn vows were always honoured. He would not forsake his principles because he was having a crisis of control.