the street, but there doesn't seem to be anyone around. In the early morning sunlight, Rippon doesn't seem so bad, and Sam relishes the peace and quiet after spending her formative years in the hustle and bustle of Leeds. She's so used to loud noise, it rather amazes her when she realizes she can hear her own footsteps as she makes her way back along the shingle path toward the cottage. Going around the back, she continues to enjoy the simple noises of her job: the slide of the rusty latch on the shed door; the clanking of the mower as it's maneuvered out from the back; even the mower's wheels as it's pulled across the grass in preparation for the day's work to begin. Finally, Sam stands and smiles as she prepares for a hard day's work.
At the last moment, just as she's about to start pushing the mower, she pauses and listens to a new sound. Something's banging nearby, as if some kind of metal is being repeatedly struck against another surface. Walking around to the front of the cottage, Sam's heart sinks as she wonders whether the teenagers from last night have returned. The banging sound continues as she makes a complete circuit all the way around her little home, before finally she reaches the other side of the cottage and the banging abruptly stops just a couple of seconds before she sets eyes on Sparky, still chained to the drainpipe. Pausing for a moment, she stares at Sparky's face as a kernel of suspicion begins to form in the back of her mind. Curious, she reaches out and grabs hold of the chain, before banging it against the drainpipe in the manner of someone who's trying to get free. To her shock, Sam realizes that this is exactly the same sound she heard a moment ago. She glances around the next corner, but there's no sign of any kids.
"Careful, Sparky," she says, turning back to the statue. She pauses for a moment, almost as if she expects a voice to reply. Staring at Sparky's blank stone eyes, Sam leans a little closer and reaches out to poke the side of the statue's face; when this produces no results, she reaches down and once again bangs the chain against the drainpipe. Finally, she smiles, realizing how easily she allowed herself to be spooked. "Don't worry," she says, patting Sparky on the shoulder, "I'll find somewhere to put you soon." Turning and walking back over to the mower, Sam tries to ignore the wild ideas taking root in her subconscious. As she pushes the aged, clanking mower toward the spot by the tree where she intends to start her work, she can't help but glance back over at Sparky and stare for a moment at the chain that runs over his torso, through the gap under his arm, and around the drainpipe. Although she'd planned to unchain the statue first thing this morning, she decides to wait a little longer. Just to be safe.
Part Two:
Gone to Hell
Prologue
One year ago
Stumbling out of the nightclub, Sam stops for a moment and tries to get her left shoe to stay on properly. The damn thing's been bugging her all night, constantly coming off while she's dancing. Just as she thinks she's got it sorted, some asshole comes bounding up behind her and sends her tumbling down onto the damp pavement, grazing her knee and left wrist on the gravel. Before Sam can get back up, she sees a guy stomp past her, crushing her shoe in the process.
"Thanks a lot!" Sam calls after the guy. She gets back onto her feet and sways for a moment, as the whole world seems to spin around her. It's weird, but she didn't feel too drunk while she was inside, but the cold night air has really clipped her wings. Shivering in her tight, short silver dress, she stands completely still and tries to focus on staying upright.
"You alright?" asks a familiar voice nearby. Making her way precariously out of the club on high heels, Nadia thrusts a small silver bottle into Sam's hands. "Drink that. What time do they close at the Meadows?"
"Three," Sam says, taking a swig of what turns out to be vodka. "Or four. Or
At the last moment, just as she's about to start pushing the mower, she pauses and listens to a new sound. Something's banging nearby, as if some kind of metal is being repeatedly struck against another surface. Walking around to the front of the cottage, Sam's heart sinks as she wonders whether the teenagers from last night have returned. The banging sound continues as she makes a complete circuit all the way around her little home, before finally she reaches the other side of the cottage and the banging abruptly stops just a couple of seconds before she sets eyes on Sparky, still chained to the drainpipe. Pausing for a moment, she stares at Sparky's face as a kernel of suspicion begins to form in the back of her mind. Curious, she reaches out and grabs hold of the chain, before banging it against the drainpipe in the manner of someone who's trying to get free. To her shock, Sam realizes that this is exactly the same sound she heard a moment ago. She glances around the next corner, but there's no sign of any kids.
"Careful, Sparky," she says, turning back to the statue. She pauses for a moment, almost as if she expects a voice to reply. Staring at Sparky's blank stone eyes, Sam leans a little closer and reaches out to poke the side of the statue's face; when this produces no results, she reaches down and once again bangs the chain against the drainpipe. Finally, she smiles, realizing how easily she allowed herself to be spooked. "Don't worry," she says, patting Sparky on the shoulder, "I'll find somewhere to put you soon." Turning and walking back over to the mower, Sam tries to ignore the wild ideas taking root in her subconscious. As she pushes the aged, clanking mower toward the spot by the tree where she intends to start her work, she can't help but glance back over at Sparky and stare for a moment at the chain that runs over his torso, through the gap under his arm, and around the drainpipe. Although she'd planned to unchain the statue first thing this morning, she decides to wait a little longer. Just to be safe.
Part Two:
Gone to Hell
Prologue
One year ago
Stumbling out of the nightclub, Sam stops for a moment and tries to get her left shoe to stay on properly. The damn thing's been bugging her all night, constantly coming off while she's dancing. Just as she thinks she's got it sorted, some asshole comes bounding up behind her and sends her tumbling down onto the damp pavement, grazing her knee and left wrist on the gravel. Before Sam can get back up, she sees a guy stomp past her, crushing her shoe in the process.
"Thanks a lot!" Sam calls after the guy. She gets back onto her feet and sways for a moment, as the whole world seems to spin around her. It's weird, but she didn't feel too drunk while she was inside, but the cold night air has really clipped her wings. Shivering in her tight, short silver dress, she stands completely still and tries to focus on staying upright.
"You alright?" asks a familiar voice nearby. Making her way precariously out of the club on high heels, Nadia thrusts a small silver bottle into Sam's hands. "Drink that. What time do they close at the Meadows?"
"Three," Sam says, taking a swig of what turns out to be vodka. "Or four. Or
Similar Books
