The Remnant Keeper (Tombs Rising Book 1) by Robert Scott-Norton

Author:Robert Scott-Norton [Scott-Norton, Robert]
Language: eng
Format: epub, azw3
Publisher: Robert Scott-Norton
Published: 2015-11-28T07:00:00+00:00

10:30 AM

The pounding in his temple pulled Jack out of the blackness and into the real world. The crackle. His body ached like he’d run a marathon before slamming into a wall.

Jesus. It was like the worst hangover multiplied into a storm of thumps and nausea. He wanted to throw up. His hands were tied.

He was still in Honey’s flat. The place was dim. The curtains closed.

Anna was dead. The bastard had shot her in the head.

But, Anna’s body was missing, removed from where she’d been slaughtered. Jack stared at the piece of wall he’d leant against with Anna when the intruder killed her. Blood splattered up the paintwork in a cherry cloud. Jack threw up. The smell made him feel worse, and he retched again, this time managing only a thin drool of phlegm. He spat and tried to wipe his wet chin on his shirt, but he couldn’t reach.

The terror hit him at about the time he noticed a roll of medical instruments had been laid out on the dining table. He tried to control his breathing, slow everything down enough to think calmly, but now that he’d seen the medical equipment, he couldn’t think of anything else.

The thought of escape flashed into his mind with a primal urgency he hadn’t expected. He tugged at the straps holding him to the chair, pulling his arms behind him, but they were wide and leather and had no wriggle room at all.

Were they belts?

He needed a knife from the table. With it, he’d be able to cut through the restraints, but he had to hurry. His captor wouldn’t leave him alone for long. At some point, he’d return and Jack would be at his mercy.

Slowly, he leant forward, trying to put his weight on his feet whilst lifting the chair. It was difficult, and the chair was heavier than it looked. If he went too fast, he would tip over and he doubted his ability to right himself. Once upright in an awkwardly hunched position, Jack tried to move over to the table. It was laboriously slow and with every movement he panicked that someone might hear and come to investigate.

Stop being a wuss.

He didn’t want to wait for the man to return; he had to make his own chances. Closer to the table, he saw there were plenty of instruments to choose from, and all of them looked sharp and clean.

Torture. Was that what he had on his mind?

And then he saw it. Hidden away amongst the rest of the instruments. Jack had used one many times and knew the shape instantly.

An eye extractor. Honey’s presumably.

Pieces popped into place. The ambush at Honey’s apartment was all about the eyes from the memory boxes. Somehow Keeley’s killer had tracked Nikoli’s eye to Honey’s apartment, and now he wanted to take Lavinia’s as well. What the hell was so important about these eyes? Was this all about destroying evidence?

Jack remembered the horrifying attack that Lavinia Wei had gone through. Jack vowed that if he got out of this, he’d go straight to the police.

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