Dead Statues Read online

  “Which is it to be?” Seth pushed.

  I heard my father scream out in pain like a wild animal. Seth was raking his long, jagged fingernails across my father’s stomach. His flesh came away in bloody strips.

  “Who do you choose?” Seth roared over the sound of my father’s deafening screams.

  I thought of Potter, and despite what I knew, what Seth had showed me, I couldn’t deny the feelings I had for him. However much he had hurt me, lied and deceived me, I couldn’t let him walk into a this trap. In my mind all I could see was his cranky smile, that obnoxious look I so often wanted to wipe from his face, and hear the cocky remarks that spewed from his mouth. I thought of all the times we had made love, and a part of me couldn’t believe that none of those feelings had been real. However much I thought I hated him, I didn’t. I loved him, and had since that first time he had winked at me and called me “Tiger” back in The Ragged Cove. I couldn’t give him up.

  “Who do you choose?” Seth roared at me again, over the cries of my father.

  I looked across the room, and just wanted to be held by him again, just like we had so often done before. I remembered the nights, as a child, sat on his lap while he read fairy tales to me. I could see him sitting by my bed, soothing my nightmares away. I could see myself holding his skeletal hand as he cried out in pain, begging for painkillers as the cancer slowly ate him up, piece by piece. As I now stared at his tortured face, tied to the chair, his flesh being slowly peeled from him, I couldn’t rid my mind of those memories of my father in his hospital bed, screaming in pain.

  “Stop it!” I shrieked, just wishing I could block out my father’s screams.

  “Who do you choose?” Seth screamed back.

  “Please,” I sobbed, dropping my head again. “I beg you.” Then, looking at the floor, feeling the chains around my wrists and ankles, and the sensation of my skin starting to crack, I could see something – something I hadn’t seen before.

  Slowly, I raised my head. I looked across the room at Jack Seth and matching his stare, I said with the upmost defiance, “My name is Kiera Hudson – who are you to make me choose?”

  In my heart, I had made my choice. The only way I would save Potter and my father, was if I became a statue.

  ‘Dead Seth’

  Book 4 in Kiera Hudson Series Two Coming November 2012!

  Turn over to read the first two chapters from Tim O’Rourke’s new bestselling series ‘Moonlight’

  Moonlight (Book One in The Moon Trilogy) By

  Tim O’Rourke

  Prologue

  “Don’t hurt me,” the girl sobbed, mascara-stained tears striping her cheeks.

  “Shhh,” he whispered in her ear, liking the sound of her heart beating against him. It had all been so easy. She had come with him just like that. Girls like her always did. The ones with the low self-esteem, the girls who sat alone in the corner of the nightclub while their friends danced in the centre of the dance floor.

  Men hovering around them like flies around shit. They were all shit. However, the girls in the corners were different.

  They would giggle as he complimented them. They weren’t used to that – it embarrassed them – but boy did they enjoy hearing what he had to say. Of course they did – no one paid them compliments – no one noticed them, they were hidden in the corner.

  He noticed them though, he had noticed her.

  She trembled before him, wishing now that she hadn’t had so much to drink. Her knees didn’t knock together because of the Smirnoff Ice the guy had plied her with. They knocked together out of fear. She had never been naked in front of anyone before – she’d never had reason to. No one had asked her to take off her clothes like he had. His voice had been soft – coaxing – as her dress fell to the floor. At first she had giggled and covered her flesh with her arms, but he had gently pulled them away. That gorgeous smile of his had told her that it was okay - he liked her - he really did.

  Oh, yes.

  He eyed her. So much flesh, he smiled to himself. Enough to go around.

  “Please just let me call my mum,” the girl sobbed in his arms.

  He held her gently and smelt the fear which leaked from her in waves. His heart quickened just like hers.

  “My roommate will be back soon,” the girl whispered, squirming against his smooth chest. She secretly knew that her friend wouldn’t be home until morning, and by then, she would be dead. She knew that and she wanted her mum. Just to speak to her, to hear her voice one last time. “Please...” she whispered, looking up into his dark eyes.

  His eyes hadn’t been so dark in the nightclub. Back there, they had twinkled as he had flirted with her as he had whispered all the things that she’d always longed a boy would whisper to her. His mouth had been different, too. In the unlit corner of the nightclub, his lips had felt soft like new-born skin as they had brushed over her cheek, making her skin tingle. Now, in the gloom of her room, his lips seemed to have stretched somehow, as if pulled up behind his ears, and all the girl could think of was Heath Ledger disguised as the Joker.

  It wasn’t just the guy’s lips; it was what lay behind them that told the girl she would never hear her mum’s voice again. The two ivory-looking points jutted from his black gums like blades.

  There was a noise and the girl glanced up. It was the sound of her bedroom door being pushed open. She was saved; her roommate was back already! She peered over his shoulder and looked towards the open doorway, her eyes brimming with hope.

  “Who are you?” she breathed, she was now wanting her heart to stop and put an end to the suffering she knew was going to come.

  The figures standing in the open doorway stepped into the room. Both were young, no older than twenty-five. One male, one female. They ignored her question and spoke to the other.

  “You have done well,” the male said, his lips seeming to spread up and open across his face, revealing a set of razor-sharp teeth.

  “I haven’t come to talk,” the female said. “I’m ravenous.”

  With his arms still wrapped around the trembling girl, the man looked back at the others, and with a smile, he said, “Let’s eat then.”

  The girl closed her eyes at the sight of the freaky-looking mouths which lunged at her. A warm sensation raced through her body, and with it came a numbness and total darkness.

  The three of them fed. They gorged themselves until they could eat no more.

  Chapter One

  Thaddeus Blake sat with his back to the river and spied through the heavy traffic. He watched the young girl, who sat hunched on the steps of the Embankment Tube Station. The February evening was bitter, and Thaddeus Blake watched as she tucked her dirty hands into the sleeves of her worn sweater. This was the seventh night he had spent sitting across the road from her, looking on as she implored the passing commuters to part with some spare change. Most ignored her whilst looking straight through her skeletal frame. The odd few did toss her coins, but others, usually older men, would pause beside her as they shared a few discreet words. The girl would become angry and start to shout at them.

  Her words were drowned out by the sound of passing night buses and taxis.

  Sometimes, when she collected enough for food or a drink, she would disappear.

  Thaddeus would continue to wait in the dark, neatly dressed in a near black suit, crisp white shirt, with a blood-red silk tie. Hands laced in lap, legs crossed at the ankles, he would wait for her to return. She always did, sometimes after only a few minutes where she would resume her position on the steps. On two occasions she had been accompanied by a younger girl - fourteen-years-old, perhaps? He couldn’t be sure. She was scruffy-looking too - but unlike the other, the younger girl would sometimes sway on her feet, toppling over and collapsing onto the ground, consumed by drugs or alcohol - probably both.

  But tonight, the older girl who had fascinated him so much was alone and having a rougher time than usual as she sat curled up, rocking back and forth in the cold. The com
muters passed her by in busy streams, seeking the warmth of pubs, clubs, or the warmth of their lover’s bed. Thaddeus pulled up the sleeve of his suit and read the time. It was just past eight. He would give it another two hours or so, and then he would approach the girl.

  Thaddeus spent the next two hours dining at a restaurant just off Trafalgar Square. For a man of medium build, he could be known to eat a hearty meal, and tonight he had put away two very rare sirloin steaks with a side order of ham, a large plate of fried potatoes and sweet peas, finished off with a giant serving of blueberry pie. As a rule, he drank very little, wanting - always needing - to keep his wits about him. But tonight he had consumed three glasses of red wine. After his meal, he sat for a short time, smoking a cigarette in the dimly-lit restaurant with the smell and taste of fresh tobacco curling up from his full lips and lingering around his slender fingers.

  He arrived back on the opposite side of the road from the Embankment Tube Station at just past ten. A chill wind had picked up and it ran its icy fingers through his messy-looking hair. He spied the young girl, who was still there, now standing faint and tired-looking against the white stone of the building. Thaddeus lingered for several minutes more, then gracefully crossed the road at the traffic lights and approached the girl.

  She stood facing away from him, her long, matted hair whispering about her shoulders and hiding most of her face. Thaddeus came alongside her and stopped. Feeling his presence, she turned, and through her long fringe, looked up into his face. She figured on first sight that he couldn't be more than twenty-five years in age, but he could have been older. It was his eyes, she thought.

  They were two dark brown spheres, set deeply into his face. They were alive and sparkling in the light from passing traffic. They generated such life, they made the rest of his face look worn and tired somehow. The pallor of his skin was so very pale, she wondered if he were not ill. His lips were full in colour though, so very dark. A wave of untidy hair framed his face. It didn’t look a mess by accident; he had styled it that way. The lower half of his face was covered in a few days’

  stubble, which had been neatly trimmed.

  After what seemed like time unknown, she broke her study of the stranger’s face and moved slightly away from him. She wasn't scared, but she knew these city types would rather not be seen with a tart, even if they did try and buy sex from her. That was a secret they kept hidden away in the backs of cabs, cheap hotel rooms, down infested alleyways, where if they could, they would leave her with their dirty secrets and return home to clean sheets and their even cleaner wives. She knew a lot of girls - and some boys -

  who did such things. Not her though - not ever.

  She would rather have starved.

  Looking away from him, she said, "What do you want, mister?"

  Still looking at her, Thaddeus replied, "Just a few hours of your time."

  No one had ever asked her for a few hours before, and she became a little nervous. She hid it well and said, "Get lost, mister. I’m not for sale.”

  "Money isn't a problem, whatever you ask," he said back, his eyes still fixed on her, and even in the bitterly cold wind he could smell her. It was a musty, sweaty, unclean smell, and he wanted to cover his nose with his hand.

  She felt nervous; something wasn’t right.

  The girl couldn’t help but wonder why this well-to-do type was offering her money like this, when all he had to do was call up an agency and get himself a proper tart.

  "No, sorry, mister, that sorta thing isn’t my bag."

  Thaddeus smiled and said, "Why? Have you got yourself a better offer?" He laughed softly into the evening but not mockingly.

  "Look, why don’t you fuck-off? I said I ain't interested, didn’t I?” she snapped at him.

  She had her back to him, but he could sense the fear in her voice. Thaddeus felt ashamed; he hadn't meant to scare her. So he spoke to her again, but this time soothingly, his voice like a song against the steady hiss of traffic.

  "Look, I'm sorry if I have upset you, no harm was meant. I would just like to pay you for the privilege of your company for the next few hours."

  The young girl listened to the sound of his voice, rather than what he was saying. She was caught by it. For a moment she was entranced by the sound of it. After mere seconds, she pulled herself together and wheeled around to face him.

  "How many ways have I got to tell you? I ain't gonna screw you, however posh you talk with all your fancy words!"

  Thaddeus never broke his gaze, eyes locked onto hers as if they couldn’t, or wouldn't let go. He spoke softly to her again.

  "I never said I wanted to bed you. Quite the opposite, in fact. All I want to do is buy you dinner and talk.” Then showing her the palms of his hands, as if to prove she had no reason to fear him, he smiled again and said, “Just talk."

  She broke his stare for the second time that evening and rocked her head back, spilling laughter into the night. "Yeah, right! You want to buy me dinner. Now I really have heard it all. I've been given some bullshit in my time, but that...."

  "Look, I am being straight with you,"

  Thaddeus cut in, his voice was sincere as he held her gaze again. “I have no interest in having sex with you of any kind. I have no intention of harming you in any way. We can eat wherever you wish. I just want to talk to you."

  The young girl felt the sincerity in his voice, and believed she saw it in those eyes of his . She felt drawn by them, could feel herself soften and weaken. The thought of a good meal sent her stomach into hungry convulsions. She spoke to him, this time calmer.

  "What do you want to talk about?"

  Knowing he had her, he took her gently by the arm and led her up to the Strand. "You eat first,” he said, “then I talk."

  As they moved off, a very odd-looking couple but completely unnoticed in London, she thought whatever it was he wanted to talk about, she could listen to his voice all night long.

  Chapter Two

  Fifteen minutes later, Thaddeus Blake was sitting opposite the young girl in a pizza parlour. He watched with some amusement as she forked large helpings of pasta into her hungry mouth. She washed every forkful down with a gulp of milk, leaving a white fringe across her upper lip. Thaddeus looked on with fascination as he smoked and drank a large mugful of sweet black coffee. Both the bitter scent of the coffee beans and the tobacco smoke, which lingered around his fingers, masked the stench that wafted across the table from the girl. As he pitched his cigarette out into the ashtray, she spoke to him through a mouthful of food.

  "You said you wanted to talk. Go on then." She knocked her fringe from her eyes, and Thaddeus noticed two things that pleased him.

  Although her hair was matted with dirt and grime, he could see that if it was washed, it would blaze a bright copper. What pleased him more than anything, were her eyes. Thaddeus knew that with some rest and healthy living, they would shine a beautiful green. Her lips were pale, seemingly bloodless, but with a strong cupid’s bow.

  "How old are you?" he questioned her.

  She replied quickly without looking up from the plate of food. "Twenty-one."

  "Truthfully, please," he asked again.

  This time she did look up at him and met his gaze. "Eighteen."

  Thaddeus nodded and spoke again, "Friends or family?"

  She took another swig of the milk, swallowed hard, and then said, "Are you taking the piss?”

  “Sorry,” Thaddeus said, regretting his naive line of questioning.

  “I’ve been in care for as long as I can remember,” she said. “It wasn’t so great. So I did a bunk when I was fourteen and came to London.

  Been here pretty much ever since.”

  “Drugs?” Thaddeus asked.

  “No thanks,” she said, forking more of the pasta into her mouth.

  “I wasn’t offering them to you,” he shot back. “Do you take them?”

  “I’ve done a lot of stuff I’m not necessarily proud of,” she said, staring at
him across the table, “but I’ve never done no drugs.”

  Then leaning across the table, Thaddeus gripped hold of her left wrist and forced back the sleeve of her shabby sweater to the crook of her elbow.

  “Hey!” she barked, “What the fuck are you doing?”

  Thaddeus looked at her pale arm. The skin was milky-white and unblemished. “I’m sorry,” he said, and released her arm.

  “No drugs, and no sex,” she whispered, and pulled down her sleeve. Then fixing him with an angry stare, she added, “I know your type. You think that everyone who is homeless is a drug-taking whore.”

  “I’m sorry,” Thaddeus said, and an uncomfortable silence fell over the table.

  Thaddeus lit another cigarette as he watched the girl. When he had smoked it down almost to his knuckle, he said, “What's your name?"

  "Winter McCall,” she said, forking the last of the pasta into her mouth.

  “Winter? Is that some kind of street name?” he asked her, feeling slightly amused.

  She saw the smile tugging at the corner of his lips, and said, “No, it’s my real name.

  Apparently I was born during the middle of the worst snowstorm in years. The snow was so deep that the ambulance got stuck before reaching the hospital. I was born in the back of the ambulance, so my mum called me Winter. Most people just call me Winnie.”

  “What do you prefer?” Thaddeus asked her.

  “I don’t care much,” she shrugged, staring out of the window, wondering how long it would be before she was forced out into the cold again.

  Then, looking back at the stranger who had bought her dinner, Winnie said, “So what’s your story?

  What’s your name?”

  “My name is Thaddeus Blake, and I’d like you to work for me,” he said, then swilled down the rest of his coffee.

  "Sorry, mister,” Winnie said, standing to leave. “I don’t need no pimp.”

  Thaddeus moved with lightning grace and took hold of her hand before she could leave. "I didn't mean that. I wouldn't be so vulgar to offer you such a proposition. The work isn’t of that nature."