by S E Holmes
Jace lashed out wildly, caught in an iron grip. “ Hell! Grab the blade! Or your fat head’s saying goodbye to your neck.”
The axe wrenched from his hands. “He’s off his gourd, Rea.”
“It’s the migraine meds. I oughta’ throttle that quack Doc.”
Alertness slowly re-established, and with it the awful knowledge something bad had happened. If Jace could only remember what. The fight deserted, still he refused to open his eyes lest clarity returned; that was a state to be avoided.
“Check him out. He’s a bleeding mess. Do you think he’s really hurt?” Even in his addled state, Jace was touched by Reece’s concern.
“Grab the gear, I’ll cart Jace.”
Memory congealed. “Angus,” he murmured.
“He said something.”
“Angus. We can’t leave him!” his tone grew hysterical and he wriggled to break free. “She killed him. Lady Grey’s still in there. She murdered him!”
“Dude! Get a grip.” The vice tightened across his chest. “You’re rambling. How many of those tabs did you gulp?”
“What do you reckon they’d be like with beer?” Reece asked.
“You dope! Does it look like he’s having any fun? He’s scared witless in the middle of a bad trip.”
“Yeah, but he didn’t have any beer.”
“I am surrounded by morons. Bring the gear.”
Jace felt himself hoisted aloft, too weak to complain. He cracked lids and peered about, shocked to discover they traversed a gulley, not open field. Where was the mansion? Misgivings churned. Could prescription drugs incite such vivid terror?
Reagan carried him like an infant, strain evident in puckered lips and a vein pulsing his temple. Reece lit their way from behind with a torch.
“I can walk,” he croaked.
“Get buggered. Waiting for you’d take all night. We’ve already wasted hours searching.”
“Anybody would think you cared. Big marshmallow.”
“Have you had a scan or something?” Reagan snapped.
“No need to get testy.”
“Bullshit! I can’t...” He shook his head, jaw bunched, glaring along the tree-lined path as though bark was to blame for all cosmic wrong.
Jace frowned, unaccustomed to Reagan’s reflective side. “Can’t what?”
“Watch another person I love die.” Jace was stunned speechless. “I know you think I’m an arsehole. And I deserve that because it’s true. Reece and I failed mum. We’ve done a shit job at looking after you --”
“Hoy!” Reece objected from their rear.
“Shut up! Keep the light straight. You’re hauling your sorry butt into town and arranging a head scan tomorrow. Am I clear, Jace?”
Who said anything about dying? “Only if you promise me something.”
“Oh yeah,” he laughed. “What?”
“Don’t go anywhere near Grey Manor. I mean, not under any circumstances, inside.”
“Sure little brother, whatever you say. If you can’t finish this week, we’ll pay you anyway.”
“We will?” Reece objected.
Reagan was not known for his generosity. No matter the time spent with them, Jace was always surprised by the twins’ easy capacity for lies. His brother probably wanted him out of the way to commit robbery in peace. But the mere thought of them going anywhere near that poisonous house splintered Jace’s nerves. Had Angus lost his life there or was it all the ghoulish figment of a narcotic nightmare? It didn’t matter. This place was tainted by evil. Even two million reasons weren’t enough to break Laini’s promise.
“Christ! You’re whiter than Reece’s backside in winter.”
“Now there’s an image.” Jace couldn’t get the shivers under control. They made the clearing, the remains of tinned beans clotted in a pan over a smouldering fire.
“That’s it! You’re out of here tomorrow.” Reagan broached the van, steps squeaking under their weight, to arrange him on the ratty bench in the kitchen nook, shaking out limbs and fumbling around for the first aid kit by candlelight.
“I know about the cameo.”
“Reece! Put Jace’s tent up,” he called out the door. “Get his sleeping bag ready.”
“What? The freak can do it himself.” The snap and fizz of a freshly opened beer can punctuated the reply. Then the irritating kerchink, kerchink of the lighter.
“You do it! I mean it, Reece, cut your shit. I’m gonna’ sort his hands or he’ll be useless tomorrow. And if you so much as touch one of those pills, I’ll have your tongue. And lay off the beer. Working with you’s bad enough without a fucking hang-over mood.”
“Geez, what’s got your dick in a clamp all of a sudden?” Reece appeared through the screen.
Reagan was unaccountably touchy. Jace wondered if this place contaminated all who dared enter. A zipper yanked outside, accompanied by a theatrical sigh and a stream of muttered obscenities as Reece erected the tent, pounding pegs aggressively.
“It’s all right, Rea. I can handle it.”
He snorted and sat to tend Jace’s hands. “I thought you could handle a machete.” The Betadine stung where thorns were tweezed. “It’s okay for you. You’re getting out, breaking the curse.”
“Curse?”
Did Reagan know about the house? Jace wanted to explain, but worried his brother’s already rocky faith in him might crumble. He was astonished to discover Reagan’s good opinion mattered.
“Bateman generations stuck in the rut of past losers. Reece and I are destined to prune old geezers’ roses, trim hedges and lick wealthy arses for the rest of our sorry lives. Even after all the sweat and back-breaking labour, we’ll barely scrape by. I’m not doing it.”
“If you hate it so much, find something else. Study, improve yourselves,” Jace said with a trace of desperation.
“Don’t have such a luxury. Our dear piss-head dad’s legacy is debt up to our tits. The bank owns everything. Besides, you’re the brains. It’s up to you to break the chain. Together, Reece and I barely make the grade of a chimp. I’m not even sure he can read.”
“I can hear you. And I bloody do read!”
“Form-guide doesn’t count.”
This was news to Jace and the knowledge smacked him hard. When their parents died, the twins left school early and worked odd jobs to keep them afloat. His brothers had sacrificed to give him the best education. He’d never considered the cost before, recognising his selfishness too late.
“You can’t go inside Grey Manor!”
Reagan stopped bandaging and frowned at him in the gloom. “What’s with you and this house all of a sudden?”
“Can’t you do as I ask, for once? I’m not visiting you in jail this time.”
“I’ll give it some thought.” He paused for a second. “Nope. It’s finders keepers, Jace. We’re going for that broach or whatever and you’ll keep out of the way. I meant what I said. First thing, you’re in town getting your head checked. Whether you come back, is your decision.” He scooched sideways and stood. “Get some sleep.”
Reagan’s posture ended the discussion. It was pointless to argue. He wedged the door open, features don’t-stuff-with-me. Hands throbbing, Jace crossed the clearing like a whipped dog.
“Your palace awaits, princess,” Reece sneered, lifting the flap with a game-show flourish.
“Thanks.” Jace tried to convey sincerity and earned a confused scowl.
“I’ve really gotta’ try a few of those pills. Just don’t inform the Sergeant.”
“I can hear you too!” Reagan’s called from the van.
Reece grinned and clapped Jace on the shoulder. “I’m getting you a GPS for Christmas, seeing as you couldn’t find a whore in a brothel. You’d get lost in a wardrobe.” He laughed uproariously at his own joke.
Any idea of leaving faded. Someone had to protect his idiotic siblings from themselves. Jace would make for town in the morning. But it was not an act of submission: he must speak with Laini whether Noel approved or
else. She was the key to all of this. And another, more odious task awaited the dawn. Jace needed to locate Angus and no matter how unlikely, instinct screamed his missing friend’s whereabouts.
***
Chapter Six
