Past Rites by Claire Stibbe

Author:Claire Stibbe
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Mystery Thriller & Suspense, Psychological thriller novels, Detective Temeke Crime Series, International Mystery & Crime, Occult Thriller Novels, Thriller Book for Teens, YA Thriller, Serial Killers, Mystery Novels, Bullying, Drugs
Publisher: Claire Stibbe
Published: 2016-12-17T16:00:00+00:00

TWENTY-SEVEN

He felt it even through the coveralls, hands braced, cheek inches from a hole in the drywall. Gabriel couldn’t see through the bones of the house, it was too dark for that, but he could hear the sudden intake of breath, the snap of a twig outside the back door.

A presence.

It was earlier than the appointed time. Couldn’t have been the dealer. Must have been someone else.

Demon began cackling and saying how much fun it would be to watch, how the blood was already pumping through Gabriel’s thick, mortal veins. “You are a brilliant host,” he said. “And I am a patient witness.”

“It’s a novelty to you,” Gabriel whispered, trying to focus on the threat. “A world teeming with life you want to destroy.”

“Not destroy. Educate. I want them to know how powerful they can be. Lords of their own manors. Imagine!”

Gabriel had imagined. That’s what had lured him away from a stifled existence in the first place, the in-your-face philosophies of how to be and what to say. He wanted to be king in his own world, wanted full control. It would be so much easier, wouldn’t it?

Focus.

He pressed a fingertip against the wall between him and the intruder, gauging the quiet but heavy sound of a boot, shuffling now to cover his approach. It had to be a male, Gabriel thought, and that made him mad.

He wasn’t aware he was being followed, should have been more careful, should have doused the single candle on the floor. It was the detective and he didn’t want to do it.

Pulling the hood up over his head, he waited, senses prickling as he held his breath. He knew exactly when the curtain would go up before the show, because it was more dangerous inside the house than out, and whoever it was stood no chance at all.

“You’ll cut him,” Demon said. “And cut him good.”

“He might have a gun.”

“He doesn’t.”

What cop doesn’t carry a gun?

Gabriel took the knife from the kitchen countertop, an antique slider his father once used for hunting. Thumb hovering over the button on the sheath, he estimated the detective was right outside the back door now, feet noiseless in the dirt and crouched behind the lower panel, eyes level with the keyhole.

Demon chuckled and the sound was flat. “Now, unlock the door and let him in.”

Gabriel twisted the lock silently, hearing only the continual chunter of Demon’s voice.

“By all accounts my kind should have been miserable when we were cast out. But we weren’t. Not at the beginning. Now I just watch, wonder what it’s like to be filled with hunger and desire. Man is one lucky―”

Shut up! Gabriel thought, flattening himself against the wall behind the back door. He realized the knife wasn’t enough. He would need something to bring the man down, knock him out. He looked around blindly and that’s when he saw the antique iron on the bathroom floor, metal, heavy, and leaning up against the baseboard. He padded only a few feet and lunged for it.

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