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Dead Statues Page 15


  Winnie looked down into his eyes and saw the openness, that honesty she had seen before on the steps of the Embankment. He spoke again, his voice gentle as always, "Please stay a while and listen to what I have to say, and if when I am finished you still want to leave, then you won't get any more harassments from me."

  He let go of her hand. Winnie stood between the chair and the table. She looked down at the stranger before her and felt confused. On one hand he seemed strong and slightly arrogant, but on the other hand, he seemed gentle and a little naive. He implored her once more, his voice barely a whisper.

  "Please trust me. Stay a little longer. You can go at any time. I am true to my word.”

  Those last two words Winnie had heard so many times before in her life, and too often they had meant very little. For reasons she couldn’t quite explain, Winnie found herself taking her seat once more on the opposite side of the table. Somehow, she felt strangely in control of the situation. She sensed a certain desperateness about Thaddeus Blake which he fought to keep hidden beneath his cool exterior.

  "Okay, I'm listening,” she said, “but any funny stuff, and I'm gone, mister.”

  "Please, call me Thaddeus,” he smiled warmly.

  Winnie eyed him cautiously and said, “So what kind of job are you offering?"

  Thaddeus drew a silver flip case from his breast pocket, opened it, and offered a cigarette to Winnie.

  “It’s not a habit I can afford,” she said, waving the case away with her grubby hand.

  Thaddeus put the case away after taking one for himself and lit it. Once settled, he spoke.

  "I’d like you to come and work for me at my home in Cornwall. In the last year, I have purchased a big home there, which takes a great deal of looking after and care. All I'd ask of you is to keep it clean. Your other duties would be to prepare my meals and do my laundry."

  Winnie watched him blow smoke out of his nostrils as she said, "Ever thought about getting yourself a wife, mister. Or a maid?"

  "I’ve had both. My wife died almost a year ago of cancer, and the maid just didn't work out."

  “A wife?” Winnie asked, unable to mask her surprise. “You must have married young. You can’t be any older than twenty-five.”

  “We met as teenagers,” he said, turning as if to watch the people pass in the street outside.

  “From the very first time I saw her, I loved her.”

  Winnie watched his pale reflection in the window and said, “I’m sorry that you weren’t together longer. She must have died very young.”

  “The time we spent together was very special - it felt like an eternity,” he whispered, looking back at Winnie.

  Not knowing what to say next, and embarrassed by Thaddeus’s obvious sadness, Winnie said, “So why didn’t the whole maid thing work out?”

  Thaddeus stubbed out his cigarette, which was only half-smoked, and laced his hands over each other on the table. "I have become somewhat of a recluse. I keep myself to myself. I tend to keep strange hours, mostly sleeping during the day and working through the night. It just got too much for my maid. She was old, and fetching my meals during the night and changing my linen became too much, and we parted company."

  "Ever thought about changing your sleeping pattern?” Winnie asked dryly, eyeing him from beneath her matted fringe. “It might work wonders for your social life.”

  “Let’s just say I prefer the moonlight,” he smiled wistfully. “Besides, after my wife's death, I had what you might call a breakdown. It wasn’t my mind which was broken - it was my heart. I shied away from people and the daylight, and all that it offered in its bright and harsh clarity. I prefer the nights. They are quieter and full of peace, with everybody away in bed. I can come and go as I please without being disturbed. The world seems mine then, and mine alone. As I have said, I work at night and I find the peace it gives me refreshing."

  “What's your work?"

  "I'm a writer; a poet in fact,” Thaddeus explained. “So as I'm sure you'll understand, I enjoy the solitude of the night. It sounds a little pretentious, I know, but I prefer to work that way.”

  "Okay, mister, but...” Winnie started.

  "Please, call me Thaddeus,” he reminded her with a smile.

  "Okay, Thaddeus,” she said, “but what you’ve said doesn’t explain a great deal. Why choose me? I’m a beggar, living on the streets of London, without anything to offer. To be honest, I can barely read and write...”

  Before she’d had a chance to finish talking herself out of the job offer, Thaddeus cut over her and said, “I've been in London over this last week visiting with my publishers, and each evening it has been my wish to walk along the river. Each night when I've reached the Embankment, there you have been, begging and being sneered at by strangers. Don't get me wrong; I'm not offering you pity or charity. If you do decide to come back to Cornwall with me, you'll be working hard for your keep. As I have already pointed out, I do have some strange habits, and perhaps a few requests from time to time that you might think a little odd, but let me assure you once again, I don’t want you for sex of any sort."

  Winnie looked across the table at him and asked bluntly, “Are you gay?”

  “No, I’m not gay,” Thaddeus said, with a smile. “As I have already explained, I’ve been married. I loved my wife very dearly and she will never be replaced."

  Winnie watched him. She had become good at people watching during the many hours she had spent begging outside railway stations, and she couldn’t help but notice how his eyes grew almost black as he spoke of his wife. It was more than just sadness she could see in them; it was despair.

  "How much will you be paying me?" she asked, changing the subject.

  "You'll have your own private room. All food and any other extras will be paid for,”

  Thaddeus explained. “You won’t have to pay any bills. I’ll give you two hundred pounds per week, to spend in whatever way you see fit, as long as you are there when I need you, and are willing to succumb to any other little request I might make of you.”

  Winnie swallowed hard. Two hundred a week. Lately, she'd been lucky if she'd scrounged two pounds a week from begging. Money aside, she was still wary of Thaddeus Blake. She only knew what he had chosen to tell her about himself.

  “Two hundred a week, huh?” she said, pulling the ends of her sleeves down over her dirty hands. “A big house in the country… I didn’t know anyone could make so much money from writing down a few fancy words that rhyme.”

  Thaddeus laughed and said, “I wish my poems made me money, they only make a fraction of my income - just pocket money, really. No, my wealth has been inherited. Like I have explained, I am the last and have no one to share it with – unless, that is, if you take me up on my offer.”

  Winnie looked back at him across the table and said nothing.

  "What have you got to lose, Winnie?” he asked.

  Again, she said nothing and just stared into his brown eyes.

  “I have been honest with you,” he shrugged, as if now the whole thing was not so important after all. “It’s up to you. No pressure. I have kept to my side of the bargain. I bought you dinner and we talked."

  Sensing that her opportunity of escaping London and the evils she had discovered there was may be slipping away, she whispered, "How can I be sure that I can trust you?"

  Thaddeus looked Winnie squarely in the face and said, "You won’t know unless you come back to Cornwall with me.” Then pushing his chair back from the table, he added, “The hour is getting late. I’ll be leaving tomorrow evening at seven from Paddington Railway Station. If you wish to take up my offer, meet me on the concourse and we shall leave together. If you chose not to meet me, I shall go back to my home and forget this meeting, and you."

  They parted company outside the pizza parlour, Winnie making her way back to the Embankment. After she was out of sight, Thaddeus hailed a taxi and disappeared off into the night. To him, the night was still very young, and he had a lot
to do before dawn.

  ‘Moonlight’

  Book One in the Moon Trilogy

  Available to download from Amazon now!

  Also available by Tim O’Rourke ‘Vampire Shift’ (Kiera Hudson Series One Book 1)

  ‘Vampire Wake’ (Kiera Hudson Series One Book 2)

  ‘Vampire Hunt’ (Kiera Hudson Series One Book 3)

  ‘Vampire Breed’ Kiera Hudson Series One Book 4)

  ‘Wolf House’ (Kiera Hudson Series One Book 4.5)

  ‘Vampire Hollows’ (Kiera Hudson Series One Book 5)

  ‘Dead Flesh’ (Kiera Hudson Series Two Book 1) ‘Dead Night’ (Kiera Hudson Series Two Book 1.5)

  ‘Dead Angels’ (Kiera Hudson Series Two Book 2)

  ‘Dead Statues’ (Kiera Hudson Series Two Book 3)

  ‘Black Hill Farm’ (Book 1) ‘Black Hill Farm: Andy’s Diary’ (Book 1) ‘Doorways’ (The Doorways Trilogy Book 1) ‘The League of Doorways’ (The Doorways Trilogy Book 2)

  ‘Cowgirls & Vampires’ (Book 1) ‘Moonlight’ (The Moon Trilogy Book 1)

  About the Author Working away in the dead of night, Tim has written many short stories, plays and novels. Tim is the author of the bestselling'Kiera Hudson series', the two paranormal romance books entitled 'Black Hill Farm' and the 'Doorways' Trilogy.

  The world publishing and movie rights to Tim's latest novel 'Flashes' have just been signed by Chicken House.

  Tim is currently working on his new series 'Cowgirls & Vampires'. The first book is now available.

  Tim's interests other than writing, include watching South Park, Vampire Diaries, True Blood and listening to Pitbull, LMFAO, Jennifer Lopez, David Guetta, Bruno Mars, Rihanna and Adele. Tim is never happier than when reading The Twilight Series, Vampire Diaries and writing his own Vampire series 'Kiera Hudson'.

  Don't be shy; feel free to contact Tim at Ravenwoodgreys@aol.com - Tim would love to hear from you. Website: www.Ravenwoodgreys.com

  Table of Contents

  Book Three

  Book cover designed by:

  Book 1

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Chapter Three

  Chapter Four

  Chapter Five

  Chapter Six

  Chapter Seven

  Chapter Eight

  Chapter Nine

  Chapter Ten

  Chapter Eleven

  Chapter Twelve

  Chapter Thirteen

  Chapter Fourteen

  Chapter Fifteen

  Chapter Sixteen

  Chapter Seventeen

  Chapter Eighteen

  Chapter Nineteen

  Chapter Twenty

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Chapter Twenty-Two

  Chapter Twenty-Three

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  Prologue

  Chapter One

  Chapter Two

  Book One in the Moon Trilogy