Read Online The Heartbeat Thief by AJ Krafton, Ash Krafton - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: AJ Krafton, Ash Krafton
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most.”
A prickly sense of unease crept up between her shoulder blades. Senza smoothed her expression into one of practiced pleasantness. “I’d rather not. Wouldn’t you rather talk about your fascination with the railway?”
“No. I wouldn’t. This isn’t the only reason I visit Woking. There is a tremendous cemetery nearby, did you know? London is practically spilling over with all the dead it produces and they’ve found a new place to hide the bodies. Mmm.” He smiled, a pleasant look that flashed over his face as if he’d just been served dessert. “Brookwood…ah, now there’s a lovely garden if ever I saw one. The London Necropolis. Even has its own rail direct from the city. They just box you up and stick you on the train like cargo and off you go, chugging along to Brookwood, where the worms await.”
Senza planted her feet and wrenched her hand from his arm, not caring who saw.
“Mr. Knell!” She stamped her foot. “Must we talk about bodies and death and cemeteries?”
“And crematoriums.” Again, that smile. It slid across his mouth as if he could not wait to share a seductive secret.
His leering pleasure was almost too much to bear. “And what ?”
“Crematoriums,” he repeated, as if she’d only misheard. “Great ovens that reduce corpses to ash and stone. There will soon be one nearby. They haven’t built it yet, but they will. The earth isn’t deep enough for all the coffins man generates.”
She clamped her hands over her ears, closing her eyes. Her pulse throbbed in her ears and she swayed on legs that were fading out from beneath her. This awful talk—
He steadied her, tugging her hands down and shaking his head. “You cannot avoid it. The only way to conquer your fear is to face it. Accept it. Accept all of it.”
Senza took her breaths in shallow sips, her stomach in a fist. His eyes, dark and fathomless, bore intently into her own. It felt almost as if he could see inside her—her secrets, her fears, her soul all bared to him. There was no way to escape his gaze or the invisible touch of his essence against her deepest places.
She could not lie, either, even though the panic she felt at his nearness was almost enough to say anything he wanted to hear, just so that he might relent. Her voice strained against the growing tightness in her throat, a fear that threatened to claw its way free. “I cannot.”
A deep rumble sounded in the distance. Thunder? Would the sky open and rudely break his promise? The sound carried with it a vibration that traveled through the floors, the balcony railing, ominous and massive. It jarred the waiting passengers into motion, sending them in streams down to the platform.
She inhaled stiffly through her nose. The train. It was only the next train.
“Oh, mon bien-aimé .” He stroked her cheek, eyes shadowed with sympathy. “How you make yourself suffer. If only you could see that death is not the horror you think it to be.”
The train slowed to a stop alongside the platform in a plume of smoke and a whistle shriek. The porters shouted to be heard over the enormous engine. Carriage doors popped open and lines of people disembarked, tugging children or hefting travel bags.
“See those people?” He swept his hand around, drawing her gaze down toward the emptying train. “Death, all around you. Just waiting to happen. Here, they go on with their lives, oblivious to the shadow waiting for them at the end of their days.”
Without waiting for her response, he tugged her away from the balcony, crossing under the archway to the smaller balcony in back. This one looked over the town, which had boomed since the railway came through. An infant city was swelling where once stood farmhouses.
He leaned over the railing, gesturing to the street with a wave of his finger. “What awaits them all in London? There, the gutters are filled with the lecherous mortals, each breath taking them closer and closer to inevitability.”
Senza turned
A prickly sense of unease crept up between her shoulder blades. Senza smoothed her expression into one of practiced pleasantness. “I’d rather not. Wouldn’t you rather talk about your fascination with the railway?”
“No. I wouldn’t. This isn’t the only reason I visit Woking. There is a tremendous cemetery nearby, did you know? London is practically spilling over with all the dead it produces and they’ve found a new place to hide the bodies. Mmm.” He smiled, a pleasant look that flashed over his face as if he’d just been served dessert. “Brookwood…ah, now there’s a lovely garden if ever I saw one. The London Necropolis. Even has its own rail direct from the city. They just box you up and stick you on the train like cargo and off you go, chugging along to Brookwood, where the worms await.”
Senza planted her feet and wrenched her hand from his arm, not caring who saw.
“Mr. Knell!” She stamped her foot. “Must we talk about bodies and death and cemeteries?”
“And crematoriums.” Again, that smile. It slid across his mouth as if he could not wait to share a seductive secret.
His leering pleasure was almost too much to bear. “And what ?”
“Crematoriums,” he repeated, as if she’d only misheard. “Great ovens that reduce corpses to ash and stone. There will soon be one nearby. They haven’t built it yet, but they will. The earth isn’t deep enough for all the coffins man generates.”
She clamped her hands over her ears, closing her eyes. Her pulse throbbed in her ears and she swayed on legs that were fading out from beneath her. This awful talk—
He steadied her, tugging her hands down and shaking his head. “You cannot avoid it. The only way to conquer your fear is to face it. Accept it. Accept all of it.”
Senza took her breaths in shallow sips, her stomach in a fist. His eyes, dark and fathomless, bore intently into her own. It felt almost as if he could see inside her—her secrets, her fears, her soul all bared to him. There was no way to escape his gaze or the invisible touch of his essence against her deepest places.
She could not lie, either, even though the panic she felt at his nearness was almost enough to say anything he wanted to hear, just so that he might relent. Her voice strained against the growing tightness in her throat, a fear that threatened to claw its way free. “I cannot.”
A deep rumble sounded in the distance. Thunder? Would the sky open and rudely break his promise? The sound carried with it a vibration that traveled through the floors, the balcony railing, ominous and massive. It jarred the waiting passengers into motion, sending them in streams down to the platform.
She inhaled stiffly through her nose. The train. It was only the next train.
“Oh, mon bien-aimé .” He stroked her cheek, eyes shadowed with sympathy. “How you make yourself suffer. If only you could see that death is not the horror you think it to be.”
The train slowed to a stop alongside the platform in a plume of smoke and a whistle shriek. The porters shouted to be heard over the enormous engine. Carriage doors popped open and lines of people disembarked, tugging children or hefting travel bags.
“See those people?” He swept his hand around, drawing her gaze down toward the emptying train. “Death, all around you. Just waiting to happen. Here, they go on with their lives, oblivious to the shadow waiting for them at the end of their days.”
Without waiting for her response, he tugged her away from the balcony, crossing under the archway to the smaller balcony in back. This one looked over the town, which had boomed since the railway came through. An infant city was swelling where once stood farmhouses.
He leaned over the railing, gesturing to the street with a wave of his finger. “What awaits them all in London? There, the gutters are filled with the lecherous mortals, each breath taking them closer and closer to inevitability.”
Senza turned
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