Total pages in book: 59
Estimated words: 55756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 55756 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 279(@200wpm)___ 223(@250wpm)___ 186(@300wpm)
“Not that kind of female companionship. She needs someone well read, well educated, and…”
“That’s an excellent point. Are you going to allow her an education? She hasn't attended university. Or will she grow old in this house without ever experiencing the world?”
“I didn’t come here to talk about Nina!” Bryn is beginning to lose his temper. “I came here to tell you to keep your little delinquent away from my angel.”
Little delinquent is a generous description of Anita, I suppose. Maybe he is right. She's older than Nina, and that means she risks becoming a role model. Anita is in her mid-twenties. I need to verify her age. The problem with becoming soul-bound to another hammer wielder via the medium of murder is that one skips a great deal of the getting-to-know-you phase.
What I do know is that Anita is old enough to have passed through the idealistic phase and lost enough hope to become dangerous. There are a lot of people around her age wandering this and other counties becoming increasingly dangerous. Their anger is righteous, for the most part. But she is my responsibility. Anyway, my thoughts have diverged.
“I can keep Anita away from Nina," I say. “Assuming they do not seek each other out, which is a real possibility. Your wife is lonely, Bryn, and fate has seen fit to bring us this woman. Anita is here for a reason, in the same way all things happen for a reason. She's part of the Lord’s plan.”
“We both know he makes some spectacularly shitty plans,” Bryn snorts. “Let’s keep them apart for now. Until you have Anita tamed.”
“We spend far too much time worrying about these girls. We have a local murder investigation to worry about. The police could come looking for Anita at any time.”
“Would that be the worst thing?” Bryn is unsympathetic. "She deserves prison.”
“We both know she’d never have killed anyone if we weren’t trying to sell peeks at the hammer for fifty pence a go.”
“Right. The roof. I forgot about the roof. Such a tedious imposition.”
I think he is referring to the roof and not Anita. None of us are domestically inclined. That is what the service demons are for. Well, theoretically, when they are not doing the bidding of cursed objects. The ongoing crumbling of the Brotherhood has cost us in so many ways. Once upon a time we would have had the craftsmen to complete the repairs ourselves. Now we are at the mercy of the mundane labor market.
Bryn and I look at one another with a similarly morose expression. We would both rather do battle with a demon army than deal with these tedious matters.
“Where is Crichton? He's usually fairly good at handling these affairs.”
“I haven’t seen him the last hour or two,” Bryn says.
“He abetted Anita with the hammer. Have you noticed that both he and Crocombe are particularly enamored of her? They’re not usually interested in humans of any kind. Even compared to Nina, they show a strong preference for Anita.”
“Yes, the girl you've managed to bind to you in blood is more popular than my wife," Bryn growls.
“That’s not what I’m saying. I’m…”
I do not get to say what I am saying because Mrs Crocombe has appeared in the doorway, wiping her red soapy hands on the dishcloth tucked into her waist.
“Fathers,” Mrs Crocombe says. “I’ve just heard word from Crichton. Seems the young lady has taken the parish car and is now being chased through the dales by the police.”
“How is that possible?” Bryn looks aghast. I probably do too.
“She’s reckless, impulsive, and opportunistic. That’s how it’s possible,” I growl.
“If you come up to the roof, you can see…”
I find myself clearing steps three or four at a time to the roof. Crocombe was right. We can clearly see the black outline of the parish car being driven at high speed through country lanes.
Anita has an uncanny ability to make me feel helpless as she forces me to watch her behave in outlandish and outrageous ways, holding herself and our bond at high-speed hostage. Does she know she matters? How could could she? She barely knows me at all. I am a stranger to her. First, I was a mark, then I became a monster.
I want to thrash her. And I will. But I have to forge some kind of bond with her, or this rebellion will be endless — until it comes to a tragic and entirely foreseeable conclusion.
Anita
I’ve never seen the countryside coming at me this fast. Crichton handles the car like a rally driver, and I finally feel safe enough for my brain to start working again.
“Were you in the back of the car the whole time?”
“That would appear to be a reasonable explanation for my presence now," he replies, glancing in the rear-view mirror. It’s not really necessary. The sirens are still very much audible. These country police have never been so excited to catch anybody. Direford isn’t a place boasting a lot of high-octane crime.