Besieged by Rain (Son of Rain #1) by Michelle Irwin

Author:Michelle Irwin [Irwin, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Amazon: B01M9EMTHC
Published: 2016-10-21T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

WITH QUIVERING HANDS, I reached for the binder. I was a little uncertain about exactly what it might hold, but positive it couldn’t be a worse torture than having to watch the werewolf feast.

I lifted the cover and fought down the shock of seeing Evie staring back at me. Of course, I knew it wasn’t actually Evie, but the resemblance was uncanny. I’d seen the photo of Evie’s parents on the dresser in Evie’s bedroom, but I hadn’t really looked at it. I hadn’t seen what I could see in the photo before me. There wasn’t a single notable difference between Evie and her mother. They could have been identical twins. In a way, they almost were—their DNA markers would be as similar as identical twins.

Written on the top left hand corner inside of the folder was a series of notes which listed her name as Emily White, gave a date of birth and a date of death—Evie’s birthday. The official, government story noted in the file showed that Emily was left as a baby at a hospital in Kent in the United Kingdom, but there was no information about how her mother—Evie’s grandmother—had died. The Rain hadn’t been involved in Emily’s life until they discovered that she was something sinister during her university attendance, so no one had a record of the reason for her birth.

Ignoring the rest of the notes, I turned back to the photos. The first two were of Emily with a man whom I recognized as a much younger David. In those photos, Emily looked roughly Evie’s age, but the thing that struck me most about the photos was that they could easily have been from the same roll of film as the photo that had been destroyed in the fire at Evie’s house. Flipping them over, I found a third photo of Emily. It was a surveillance photo, and the features of her face were blurred from the level of zoom that had been required to find her in the crowd. My stomach twisted at the certainty that this was the first official Rain photo of her. In it, I was witnessing the beginning of the end of her life.

The next four photos weren’t of her, but of people I assumed were Rain operatives. All of the subjects were in hospital beds and each of them bore similar wounds. From superficial burns that twisted grotesquely along their arms and legs to huge patches of charred and missing flesh. My nausea peaked as I flipped to the next photo. In it, three bodies, burned and blackened beyond recognition, rested side by side in front of a burned-out house.

“That one’s my grandfather.” A familiar voice spoke behind me as a dark, masculine finger, tipped with a perfectly manicured nail, reached down and touched the middle corpse in the photo.

The unexpected presence caused me to leap and scatter the photographs. I spun around in the chair and saw that another Rain operative had taken over from the Assessor.

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