Page 3 of Aberrant Monsters
I skirted the masticated remains of my assailant and followed. I was late for my date with a real gentleman.
two
Black Castle Road was named as such because of the small black castle that stood on a hill at the end of the road. The building was a gothic structure with twin turrets and too many narrow corridors. It had an insulation problem and a leaky roof. Yeah, the place needed a serious makeover, but it was home.
I’d inherited it from my grandmother, a woman I’d never met, and one my mother had barely spoken of. I’d lived here for eleven years now, ever since coming into the inheritance at the age of twelve. A lucky break, really, because if not for the will, my uncle would never have found out my mother was gone, and that I, his only niece, had been placed in an orphanage.
I had no idea why my mother and her brother were estranged, but every time I’d brought it up an aura of sadness fell over my uncle. I got the impression my questions made him regret what had been and wonder what could have been.
I didn’t want to be the cause of any pain to the man who’d taken in not just me but my best friend too.
I’d come as a package deal because there’d been no way I was leaving Nandi behind.
Nandi held me together in those first few awful weeks when I’d spent every night crying, wondering why my mother had left me. Why she’d failed to come home from her job at the supermarket one night. No signs of foul play, nothing to suggest anything bad had happened. She simply vanished.
I heard the grown-ups whisper about how awful it was that she’d left me, especially since I had no father. I’d told myself she hadn’t left me, that it couldn’t be true. My mother loved me, she’d never leave me, not unless she had no other choice. I told myself that over and over, in the dead of night, curled up in my narrow cot at the orphanage, but I couldn’t escape the doubts that whispered maybe she’d left because of me. Maybe being a single mother and living on the breadline had become too much for her.
On those nights, Nandi had crawled into bed with me, hugged me tight, and woven tales of all the cool things we’d do when we grew up. She’d been alone since birth, passed from foster home to foster home and then here, but she never let me feel alone. She’d become my anchor in the storm.
And so, when Uncle Frederick had come to take me away, I’d insisted he take her too.
My mother was gone but I’d built a new family with Uncle Frederick and Nandi. I’d do anything to protect them and keep them safe. Even take on cases of surveillance on evil wankers like Jamie McNamara.
I trudged up the hill toward home, picking up the pace, eager to get in and change before my date.
Now that Telarion was out of my body, it felt lighter, all mine, and I wanted to make the most of that time. Once the sun came up, he’d be back. Forced to slip under my skin and remain there until sundown. Having him inside me, a part of me, felt…
I exhaled heavily and brushed away those thoughts.
The iron gates squeaked as I pushed them open. My boots crunched on gravel as I made my way up the drive to the imposing dark building.
Gothic arched windows stared down at me like black, soulless eyes. Only the east wing was lit up welcomingly.
With only three of us in residence it seemed unnecessary to use the whole castle. Heating and electricity were expensive, after all, and with Uncle Frederick being retired, it was up to Nandi and me to cover the costs of living.
I trudged around the building to the old servants’ entrance and pushed it open. The door had a habit of sticking, but a good shove with the shoulder worked every time. Heat from the aga cooker seeped into the small entranceway from under the kitchen door along with the sound of voices.
I closed and locked the outer door before entering the kitchen to a fresh blast of heat. Nandi sat at the large oak table, long, dark hair gathered on top of her head in a messy bun, tiny feet wrapped in fluffy socks propped up on the chair beside her, mug in hand, while Uncle Fred stirred a pot on the hob. He was dressed in his usual shirt with jumper-vest, slacks, and slippers.
He glanced up from his task and blinked at me from behind fogged-up glasses. “Oh, good, you’re home.”
I sniffed the air and grinned. “Chili?”
Nandi matched my grin. “I twisted Freddie’s arm.”
My uncle tutted. “How many times have I asked you not to call me that. There was no arm twisting involved.” He sprinkled stuff into the pot, never taking his eyes off his concoction. “Chili is the best thing when the weather turns cold.”
But Nandi was no longer paying attention to him, her gaze on the collar of my shirt. “What the fuck?” She set her mug down so fast that coffee sloshed onto the table. “Is that blood?”
“Blood? Where’s the blood?” Uncle Frederick pulled off his glasses and wiped them before popping them back onto his nose to scrutinize me.
Nandi was already across the room, tugging on my jacket to examine the shirt beneath.
I looked down at the crimson spatters with a wince. “I kinda got into a scrape.”
My uncle’s brow creased in concern. “What happened?”
“Jamie McNamara happened.”
