Evil Child (An Erich Hasse Novel Book 3) by Marc Layton

Author:Marc Layton [Layton, Marc]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Blank Paper Press
Published: 2024-03-04T00:00:00+00:00

His office felt alien, empty. It wasn’t that Angela spent much time in it with him, but he’d normally been aware that she was, at least, in the same building. Now, there was nothing, just a hollow in his stomach and a cold burning anger in his chest.

He stood looking down at his desk, at the papers, the pens, the books. It all meant... what? Nothing now. In a single movement, he swept his arm over the surface of the desk, knocking everything to the floor.

“Cleaning?” came the voice from the door.

He looked up, scowling, to see Brittany standing there. She must have registered his glare. Her own grin dropped away, replaced by confusion, then concern.

“Professor?” she asked quietly. “What’s wrong?”

The anger boiled in him. He was about to snap at her. Then, he registered the softness in her eyes, the worry on her face. The anger seemed to slip away, letting the grief flood into the empty space. His legs wobbled, and he sat down heavily on his seat.

“Close the door,” he whispered, feeling the moisture on his cheeks as he lowered his face.

He heard the door close, and he was aware of her footsteps as she came to stand beside his chair, but he didn’t see her. His eyes were screwed shut, trying, unsuccessfully to block the flood of tears. He drew in a long sobbing breath.

He felt her hand placed tentatively on his shoulder as she asked, “Professor, what’s wrong?”

“Angela...dead...” he managed through his sobs.

He felt her other arm go around him. He felt her presence as he buried his head in her shoulder, giving way to his tears and long wracking sobs. He had no idea how long he stayed there, his tears flowing freely. His mind seemed to have given up, to have retreated to a place where it could simply be grief, and nothing else.

When he finally recovered his senses again, he looked down to see her kneeling beside his chair, one hand on his arm. Her face looked almost as sad as he felt.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered, wiping some of the tears off his face.

She shook her head. “No. Nothing to be sorry for.”

He sat up a bit straighter, motioning her to the chair on the other side of his desk.

She gave him a concerned look and then walked slowly around to the other seat.

“How?” she asked quietly as she took her seat.

He could feel the anger returning, burning away some of the sadness. “Lilith. One of her… demons. In front of my apartment… you know the building site? She was… was…”

Brittany’s hand came down on his desk. He nodded in her direction, the best thanks he could offer at the moment.

He drew in another long breath and swallowed. “Murdered… killed… ripped apart.”

He saw Brittany frown and heard her ask, “Why?”

The anger burned brighter, and his face hardened. “A message – to me. That was Lilith telling me, us, to back off.”

Brittany said nothing.

He slammed his hand down on the desk, making the young woman jump in her chair.

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