The Charms of Death
Page 1
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Time Passes
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
About the Author
Also by Richard Amos
Copyright © 2020 Richard Amos
All Rights Reserved
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This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places, events, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
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This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, re-sold, duplicated, hired out, or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition including this condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
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Cover by Vanesa Garkova
ONE
JAKE
The glass bunny stared up with me with its big obsidian eyes, cradled in the arms of Norah Davis.
I got the sense of one evil bloody soul inside that transparent body.
“I’m so grateful for all you’ve done,” Norah praised in Dutch. “I don’t know what I would’ve done if my poor Shayla had died.”
Shayla. The bunny who’d fallen into a pod—creepy, colourful blobs of scary energy that’d infected the world and could, well, make a once fluffy white bunny turn into glass.
Not only was the bunny freaking me out with its twitching nose and devil stare, I was also freezing my bollocks off.
Some people say it’s too cold to snow. I didn’t believe that, and I could feel snow in the air. Yeah, sometimes I was a walking meteorological device. The clouds in the dark sky looked orangey and gray, ready to send down some of the white stuff.
How much longer did I have to stand here and listen? At least we were in a quiet street called Jacob Van Lennepstraat. Thank God people were indoors, avoiding the cold.
Dean was back home with our daughter while I sorted this mess out.
Norah was a bunny obsessive. I hated the whole cat lady thing, but she was a bunny lady. There were like twenty of them living in her house, running free, in all colours and degrees of ear-floppiness. Can’t say I’m a big fan of rabbits. Traumatic experience from my childhood. Me and my sister Jessica had been given a gray bunny with pink eyes by our mum and dad. Man, we’d been so overjoyed and had given her a name we’d both insisted she was addressed by in full: Rachel Jade Destiny Margaret Ruby Winter.
Mum had tried to make us go with Hoppy. We’d laughed in her face.
Lovely Rachel Jade Destiny Margaret Ruby Winter and her skippy ways, living in her hutch outside, coming out for cuddles and a run around the garden. At least, that’d been the dream.
The reality had been savage.
The demon bunny of my childhood had terrorised my mum when she’d tried to clean her hutch—heavy-duty gardening gloves had been needed. The fucker always lunged out of the dark like some feral beast, tearing into the glove. Someone told us to get a Guinea pig because she’d have a friend and that would calm her down.
We’d found the poor Guinea pig, Sparkle, all over the hutch the next day, an eyeball resting against the mesh being the first thing I’d seen. I’ll never forget it.
You couldn’t let the devil bunny out. No way! The one time we did, she’d escaped, got into a neighbour’s garden and killed a cat. Actually killed a cat! Then she’d managed to get into another rabbit hutch and shagged the male bunny living there. She didn’t kill him, amazingly.
It hadn’t taken Dad long to tell us she’d been set free into the wild one day. Which probably meant him and Mum and destroyed her in some devil bunny slaying ritual, then salted the earth afterwards. The crazy hopper needed it!
So yeah, not a big fan. And I hated the way they stared, like they were sizing you up.
“She is such a character,” Norah continued waffling. “You’ll have to come and see her in action. She’s so funny.”
I’d seen enough of Norah’s damn house of bunnies. Like fuck was I stepping foot in there again.
“Yeah, that’ll be great.” Always had to go for some fake politeness.
I picked up the pet carrier I’d stored Shayla in. I mean, she’d come without a fight when I’d tracked her down to this street, sitting under a tree. That was one good thing—she wasn’t psycho.
Shayla had ended up this way because she’d escaped from Norah’s place, fallen into a pod outside the front door, transformed instantly, then run off before Norah could do anything. Containing the other bunnies with the front door open had been a challenge for the bunny lady, and Norah had almost fallen into the pod herself in her battle.
Speaking of the pods, there was one nearby. Blue, glowing in the dark of the late afternoon. It’d appeared within the last five minutes. Not that Norah had noticed, now banging on about how her best friend had knitted one of her rabbits a pair of socks that the bunny loved so much.
Sure it did.
Shayla’s eyes moved from me to the pod. Her back legs kicked a little.
“Norah?” I warned.
“And I would love for her to wear the knitted hat, but she’s not very keen on it.”
Shayla was wriggling, but Norah’s mouth wouldn’t stop.
“Norah!”
“I know, I’m—”
“Norah!”
The bunny had sprung free, landing heavily on the ground.
“Careful,” Norah said sweetly and laughed. “Such an escape artist.”
Shayla was off before Norah could grab her and leapt headfirst into the blue pod. It was big enough to swallow her whole body.
“Fuck!” I yelped.
“Shayla? Darling?”
It took less than thirty seconds for the glass bunny to go from regular sized to a huge beast about ten-feet tall.
“Shayla?” Norah looked up, dumbfounded.
“That’s pods for you,” I said.
“Shayla? What are you doing?”
Was she for real? Her stupid bunny had gone and thrown itself into the damn pod. Obvious bloody scenario!
Crazy bunny. Probably descended from Rachel Jade Destiny Margaret Ruby Winter.
I drew my double-pointed spear from the holder on my back. The white smoke came to life across my skin, spiralling all the way up the wooden shaft to the golden blades on both ends—a still mysterious, but cool effect.
Shayla reared, and roared. She turned her scary head to her owner.
“Shayla! Darling! Oh no!”
“Get back, Norah!”
“She’s my baby! My baby!”
Something sprung out of Shayla’s mouth. A tongue. Like a frog tongue, but transparent and dripping sticky clear liquid all over the ground.
It was wrapped around Norah’s neck.
I went to move to help the poor woman, but she was whipped through the air straight to the
wide-open mouth of her not-so-fluffy-kins.
She screamed as Shayla threw her head back and swallowed her whole. Even though the bunny was transparent, there was no sign of Shayla in her belly.
The creature’s black eyes were then on me.
Now it was my turn.
I ducked as the tongue lashed out, then dove into a roll to miss the next lashing.
This was supposed to be a simple bunny handover!
Another spring of sticky tongue, this time missing me by inches. Thank God for my regular training which allowed me to kick-ass and move quick enough to avoid joining Norah for the tummy party. Dean had taught me well over the years.
Ugh. Stupid bunny.
Whenever opportunity popped its head out, I made sure to try and bloody well go for it. I swung at Shayla, cracking her on the side, hard enough to administer a fracture.
Awesome. But it wasn’t enough. Getting onto all fours, the bunny roared and hopped at me, her paws making loud booms on the concrete.
Although my choice of weapons was limited to, well, the spear because of residual energy from my time as an actual weapon, my fussy body did actually allow me to use potions, as well as some magical traps. Thank fuck for that! Chipping away at the bunny with my spear wasn’t going to cut it, and I couldn’t run too far to let Shayla go on a rampage.
Potion time!
As I ran, praying I didn’t take a tumble, I reached into the potion belt, pulling out a vial appropriate for the situation. Being prepared for the weird was how you kept alive. Or hoped to if you didn’t—
The tongue caught me by the leg. I fell onto my front, immediately dragged across the ground to a waiting Shayla.
I’d dropped the spear, but not the vial.
Me and Dean had both come to the conclusion that if the bunny needed putting down, it might be a good idea to have some freezer potions. They worked like liquid nitrate, and would weaken the glass so it would crumble, rather than explode. Using an exploder potion would make the environment deadly with flying glass.
I swear sometimes we just knew that shit was gonna mutate into a shit monster, then dive into a fan.
I flung the potion at Shayla. It burst into an icy fog, swallowing her in one puff—like the steam that unleashes from a just-finished dishwasher. Then it was gone, leaving behind a frozen glass bunny.
The tongue flopped uselessly. I untangled it, getting sticky gloop all over my hands. Fuck that for now. I had to take this bunny down.
I scurried to my spear, hurried back to Shayla, then took a moment to wish Norah well on her journey into the afterlife. Maybe she’d go to a happy field of bunnies and rainbows.
Poor woman. I’m sure the other rabbits were in her will. There was nothing I could do to help her now. This hopper couldn’t live to hop another day.
I whacked Shayla with my spear, and she crumbled into lumps if ice. I was expecting a few strikes, but that one whack had struck nice and bloody true.
Standing amongst the frozen bunny bits, was Norah. Alive, soaked to the skin in God knew what (bunny tummy juice?) and shivering.
“My baby…” she whispered.
“Sorry, Norah. But, well, you know.”
“Shayla.” I saw her eyes roll back, then she fainted.
Oh, bollocks!
WITH SHALYA in the hospital with no injury that’d kill her, the case was closed and I’d practically skipped home with relief because I could shower and wash the scenario off me in a rain of hot water.
Ah! This was the life. A heavy fantasy tome in hand, a mug of hot chocolate steaming away, the lights set to a comfortable glow to read by, candles flickering, all the while curled up with my man as our kid snored away in her bed upstairs.
Give me all the cosy shit again and again.
Snow was falling heavy outside. I’d been spot on with my guessing! Not that I was watching it. The curtains were firmly drawn against the outside world because there were too many eyes that wanted to look in. Like the crazy bastards from The Conclave (nutty religious types who hated magic and all things supernatural). Specifically, a set of twins—a man and woman—who’s mum and triplet brothers were bumped off by the creepy Christmas bone-sucker a couple of months ago. My fault apparently, as was the state of the world ever since Coldharbour returned, along with magic and supes being exposed.
Yeah, all my fault. Naughty me!
Where life was complicated being a PIA (Paranormal Investigations Agent) and a dad, there was also the stuff with that American bloke called Parker Smith, who was now parading around as head of The Conclave by the name of Elijah Hart. He’d gone from funding the first ever Conclave HQ building, currently under construction on the edge of Beatrixpark, to being the head of the Amsterdam branch. Guess money talks. Every time I saw him on TV, I wanted to smash his face in for trying to trick me with the friendly guy crap he’d tried before I knew better.
Ugh. Bollocks to all that, to the rest of the list we had of mysteries to solve. We had this moment on a cold Tuesday night in February. You couldn’t beat snuggling in the winter, locked in your pocket of happy with the man you loved, and the best daughter in the whole world who was snoring like a freight train.
I looked up from my book, listening to her. “She’s worse than you,” I told my fiancé.
Dean laughed gently next to me—all deep and yummy. “I was thinking the same thing about you.”
We were sharing a blanket on one of our brown sofas, and his response made me shuffle closer to him. He put his arm around me, pulling me closer to kiss my forehead.
Engaged. Me. To him. No date set yet, but I was wearing a ring put there by him on New Year’s Eve.
Man, it’d all been so sappy, and I’d loved every minute of it. As soon as the clock chimed midnight at the small gathering in our house, we finalised on the engagement that’d taken place back in early December after that whole bone-sucker drama, with matching titanium and diamond rings sliding on fingers, a kiss, cheering from our friends Sophie, Luuk and Cherry, as well as our little girl.
Cheesy stuff. Why not? Good to have some cheese now and again until you couldn’t handle anymore. Over the festive period, I’d eaten way too much and had carried on for most of January until I had a word with myself and went cold turkey. Was still missing the brie and crackers though. Hard!
Lou’s snoring was a like chill out music to my ears. It meant she was content and in some dream world. Actually, she was probably drifting in space, dancing on the rings of Saturn seeing as she was obsessed with all things space. She was four and so advanced for her age. It was amazing and a little scary, but as long as she had our love and support, nothing else mattered. I wanted nothing but the best for that crazy, beautiful kid.
I put the bookmark in my fantasy novel and picked up my drink in my Lord of the Rings mug—which was bigger than the last one I’d broke. Not a bad thing. Meant more hot choccie for me.
“Remember Soph’s coming over for seven in the morning,” I said, sipping at the velvety brown liquid.
Dean nodded, popping his paperback down—some political thriller. “I remember.”
“Ugh. I’d kill for a lie in.”
“What’s a lie in?” he countered.
“Yeah, tell me about it. May as well scrub it from our minds.”
“Don’t be so pessimistic.”
“Can’t help it. My natural go-to.” I snuggled even closer until I was almost in his lap.
He wrapped his arm around me again. “I know. But I’m here to give you hope.”
“You are?”
“Listen to this, baby.” He cleared his throat. “Valentine’s Day. A romantic meal out, the pair of us making googly eyes at one another across the table, a walk by the canal, then back here where there’s just you and me.”
“The whole house to ourselves?”
“Yes. We can spend the whole night naked, walk around with everything hanging out.”
I loved the sound of that! “Bang wherever we like?”
“Please don’t make it crude.”
I sat up, twisting to get a look at him. “Seriously? You’re telling me you weren’t thinking about fucking on the kitchen table?”
His sexy Asian features darkened in the hot way they always did, mischievous shadows dancing in his dark eyes. “I’ve never thought about you spread eagled on the kitchen table in my life.”
“You haven’t?” I felt my left eyebrow quirk with speculation.
“Maybe the sink.”
“The sink? Ouch!”
“Not actually in it.”
I was getting hard, even if I was thinking about taps digging into my back. “Then what?”
He tapped his head. “You leave that to me.”
“I’m not getting in the sink, treacle!”
“Never said you were.”
“Cool. So you’re climbing in, yeah?”
His grin sent warmth to my groin. “Why can’t you just wait and be surprised?”
“Surprises are good as long as you’re not getting hurt.”
“I’d never let you get hurt.” His eyes went from hungry lust, to puppy dog.
I melted like the pushover I was. “Aw!” Shuffling closer, I reached out and ran my fingers through his black hair. It was all soft, still damp from his shower. The normal slick and coiffed look was gone, leaving him all adorable and smelling of peach shower gel. “Look at that face.”
He caught my hand, taking it down to his lips.
“Why, sir,” I declared. “You flatter me.”
Dean kissed each of my fingers in turn, then took my middle finger, sliding it into his warm mouth.
“Oh,” I whispered. “Good job I washed my hands after sorting the bins out.”
He froze.
I laughed. “I’m joking. Suck away.”
He removed my finger from his mouth. “Not funny.”
“Yeah, it was.”
“I’d rather suck on something else.”
I giggled as he whipped the blanket off us, tossing it to the side.
“Is that so?” I asked, stretching onto my back, head resting on the arm of the sofa.
“Look what we have here,” he said, running his hands up my navy pyjama bottoms, working his way up to the hardness that was waiting for him.