couldn’t be avoided.
After saying his farewell, Valentin leaned into the back of the car
and kissed Sofia, who promptly started wailing again. As Cassie scurried
round to the front passenger seat, Valentin slammed the rear door
shut without so much as a word or a glance for Jaden.
He turned to Joe. 'Take care of them.’
'I will.’
Valentin gazed at the Shogun, nodding absently to himself. 'Make
sure Cassie enjoys tonight. She deserves it.’
Today Oliver Felton had been late coming to his post. His sister had
called again, for the third time that afternoon. This after a barrage of
emails and texts, until finally he’d relented and picked up the phone.
'What are you doing?’ she’d demanded.
'Preparing to be lectured by you.’
'Hilarious. I mean, why are you skulking down there on your own?
You’re supposed to be at Ginny’s.’
'I didn’t go.’
His sister groaned. 'Dad spent ages setting that up.’
'Best reason to stay away.’
'Christ, Ol. Don’t tell me you haven’t got the hots for that girl,
because I know you have. You can’t walk straight when you see her.’
'I’ve never denied that. But she thinks I’m a freak.’
'And this was the perfect opportunity to correct that impression.
You agreed, Oliver. I heard you promising Dad. Honestly, I despair
of you when you act like this.’
A peevish silence followed. Oliver could picture her expression in
every detail. With just a year’s difference in their ages their mannerisms
were virtually identical, except that Rachel had a habit of pushing
her bottom lip out to emphasise her displeasure. Allegedly this was
the look that made so many men want to sleep with her, but all it
inspired in Oliver was an urge to slap her until she bled.
When his apology failed to materialise, Rachel pressed on. You
know what Dad’ll say? Turning your back on something you want,
just because he wants it for you as well — '
'“Cutting off your nose to spite your face”,’ Oliver intoned in a
passable imitation of his father’s reedy drawl. 'Well, so what? I’ll chop
my whole fucking head off before I let him control my destiny. He
seems to think marriages are just another form of strategic alliance.
That’s partly why Mum was eliminated, remember? Once she’d served
her purpose.’
'Oliver, don’t start. I won’t speak to you about Mummy.’
You can tell him that I have no intention of moving out, and the
more it irritates him, the longer I’ll stay. And if I don’t outlive the old
Satanist then I want to be buried in the garden, with a fucking great
headstone.’ He laughed. 'Better still, build me a monument of jagged
shrapnel, dripping with blood. Dad’s great gift to the world. Here lies
Oliver Felton, laid to rest on a bed of bullets.’
From upstate New York, Rachel let out a sigh that might have crossed
the Atlantic under its own power. She started to say something, thought
better of it mid-way through the word 'regret’, and ended the call.
Replacing the phone in its cradle, Oliver was surprised to see the
handset flecked with spittle. Perhaps he had argued his case rather
too vehemently.
Afterwards, in need of a pleasant distraction, he’d made his way
to a landing between two of the guest suites. A hidden switch
opened a hatch in the ceiling, concealed by a decorative coving,
and a lightweight aluminium ladder slid down, powered by an
almost silent electric motor.
This led up to a tiny room, about six feet square, slotted into a
peculiar corner of the arched faux-Gothic roof. His father, who had
designed both this house and its neighbour, Dreamscape, had wanted
lots of unusual nooks and crannies. As a result the library had a
bookcase that opened to a secret music room, and the gymnasium
could be reached via a fireman’s pole from the floor above.
The eyrie, quickly forgotten, became Oliver’s hideaway. All it
contained were a couple of beanbags and a fine Swarovski telescope,
mounted on a tripod and stationed at the small window. The room
was on the
After saying his farewell, Valentin leaned into the back of the car
and kissed Sofia, who promptly started wailing again. As Cassie scurried
round to the front passenger seat, Valentin slammed the rear door
shut without so much as a word or a glance for Jaden.
He turned to Joe. 'Take care of them.’
'I will.’
Valentin gazed at the Shogun, nodding absently to himself. 'Make
sure Cassie enjoys tonight. She deserves it.’
Today Oliver Felton had been late coming to his post. His sister had
called again, for the third time that afternoon. This after a barrage of
emails and texts, until finally he’d relented and picked up the phone.
'What are you doing?’ she’d demanded.
'Preparing to be lectured by you.’
'Hilarious. I mean, why are you skulking down there on your own?
You’re supposed to be at Ginny’s.’
'I didn’t go.’
His sister groaned. 'Dad spent ages setting that up.’
'Best reason to stay away.’
'Christ, Ol. Don’t tell me you haven’t got the hots for that girl,
because I know you have. You can’t walk straight when you see her.’
'I’ve never denied that. But she thinks I’m a freak.’
'And this was the perfect opportunity to correct that impression.
You agreed, Oliver. I heard you promising Dad. Honestly, I despair
of you when you act like this.’
A peevish silence followed. Oliver could picture her expression in
every detail. With just a year’s difference in their ages their mannerisms
were virtually identical, except that Rachel had a habit of pushing
her bottom lip out to emphasise her displeasure. Allegedly this was
the look that made so many men want to sleep with her, but all it
inspired in Oliver was an urge to slap her until she bled.
When his apology failed to materialise, Rachel pressed on. You
know what Dad’ll say? Turning your back on something you want,
just because he wants it for you as well — '
'“Cutting off your nose to spite your face”,’ Oliver intoned in a
passable imitation of his father’s reedy drawl. 'Well, so what? I’ll chop
my whole fucking head off before I let him control my destiny. He
seems to think marriages are just another form of strategic alliance.
That’s partly why Mum was eliminated, remember? Once she’d served
her purpose.’
'Oliver, don’t start. I won’t speak to you about Mummy.’
You can tell him that I have no intention of moving out, and the
more it irritates him, the longer I’ll stay. And if I don’t outlive the old
Satanist then I want to be buried in the garden, with a fucking great
headstone.’ He laughed. 'Better still, build me a monument of jagged
shrapnel, dripping with blood. Dad’s great gift to the world. Here lies
Oliver Felton, laid to rest on a bed of bullets.’
From upstate New York, Rachel let out a sigh that might have crossed
the Atlantic under its own power. She started to say something, thought
better of it mid-way through the word 'regret’, and ended the call.
Replacing the phone in its cradle, Oliver was surprised to see the
handset flecked with spittle. Perhaps he had argued his case rather
too vehemently.
Afterwards, in need of a pleasant distraction, he’d made his way
to a landing between two of the guest suites. A hidden switch
opened a hatch in the ceiling, concealed by a decorative coving,
and a lightweight aluminium ladder slid down, powered by an
almost silent electric motor.
This led up to a tiny room, about six feet square, slotted into a
peculiar corner of the arched faux-Gothic roof. His father, who had
designed both this house and its neighbour, Dreamscape, had wanted
lots of unusual nooks and crannies. As a result the library had a
bookcase that opened to a secret music room, and the gymnasium
could be reached via a fireman’s pole from the floor above.
The eyrie, quickly forgotten, became Oliver’s hideaway. All it
contained were a couple of beanbags and a fine Swarovski telescope,
mounted on a tripod and stationed at the small window. The room
was on the
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