Read Online Written in the Blood by Stephen Lloyd Jones - Free Book Online Page B
Authors: Stephen Lloyd Jones
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had helped to create was a new generation of grieving mothers.
She had tried to withhold the awful truth of her failure from Leah, excusing her deceit as a desire to check and double-check what basic maths could have told her with a moment’s effort. Until now, she thought she had succeeded.
In hindsight, Leah was far too intelligent, far too intrinsic a part of this, not to have grasped the stark reality. Perhaps, in compassion for her mother’s guilt, she had kept that knowledge to herself. But through her actions today she had revealed herself. She had lost patience with their lack of success, their slow decline, and she had gone to do something about it. Where that decision would now lead, Hannah could not begin to imagine.
Wherever you are, Leah, please God be safe. I can’t lose you. Not you.
She heard, from beyond the kitchenette’s windows, a sputtering and a popping of gravel: the wheels of heavy vehicles crunching over stones.
Gabriel drew in a breath.
‘What is it?’
‘We’ve got visitors,’ he replied. ‘Looks like it’s the tanács .’
Hannah felt herself quail at his words.
C HAPTER 6
Interlaken, Switzerland
L eah was still staring at A Kutya Herceg across the dining table, heart thumping in her ears, when the man who had ferried her to this mountain hideaway strode in through the room’s double doors, clutching her snub-nosed Ruger. ‘ Após! Állj! ’ he barked, gesturing at her host.
The old man spun around to face him. He raised a hand and jabbed it towards Leah. ‘ Ki kell dobnunk a boszorkányt a folyóba. Hátha lebeg! ’
Horrified, Leah glanced from one to the other. She pushed the chair back from the table and rose to her feet. Her grasp of Hungarian had improved over the years; now, her scalp prickled at his words.
We should throw this witch in the river and see if she floats.
For a moment, confused by the rush of events, Leah had thought her driver intended to rescue her from the old man’s wrath. Then the word he had used when he’d first appeared came back to her: Após .
Father.
It wasn’t her he had come to rescue at all. ‘He’s your father?’ she blurted, and instantly regretted it.
After a moment’s pause, the younger man turned to her. She could see the anger burning on his face. ‘You catch on fast.’
Leah’s host spat out another stream of Hungarian invective, his finger still hooked towards her.
‘ Elég, Após ,’ the younger man replied.‘ Elég .’
‘ Fiú— ’
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘I will deal with this. I have questions of my own. If she doesn’t co-operate, you can have your turn.’
The two kirekesztett stared at each other, father and son. After what seemed like an eon of frozen time, the father relaxed his grip on the table. When he cast his eyes back at Leah, she saw murder lurking there – cold violence. With a swiftness that surprised her, he marched out of the room.
A Kutya Herceg’s son shut the door. ‘Sit down,’ he said. And, because of the way he looked at her, she complied without a word.
He pulled out the chair opposite and sat, placing her pistol on the table with a clatter. He spun it, trapped it with his hand, spun it again. The barrel ended up facing her. ‘Either you’re incredibly stupid, unbelievably arrogant, or monumentally naive. I’m trying to work out which.’ His eyes were dark, the last tints of colour fleeing to the outer edges of his irises.
‘Perhaps I’m all three.’
‘Lonely, too, I imagine. Am I right?’
The question jolted her. All of a sudden she felt horribly exposed by his gaze, as if with a single question he had peeled away her layers of armour and shone a light into the parts she tried to keep concealed.
‘You must be,’ he added. ‘Growing up in fear, the way you did. Never able to put your trust in people. Moving from place to place.’ He paused. ‘Watching your father die.’
She stiffened, and again his expression shifted, as if, having probed her
She had tried to withhold the awful truth of her failure from Leah, excusing her deceit as a desire to check and double-check what basic maths could have told her with a moment’s effort. Until now, she thought she had succeeded.
In hindsight, Leah was far too intelligent, far too intrinsic a part of this, not to have grasped the stark reality. Perhaps, in compassion for her mother’s guilt, she had kept that knowledge to herself. But through her actions today she had revealed herself. She had lost patience with their lack of success, their slow decline, and she had gone to do something about it. Where that decision would now lead, Hannah could not begin to imagine.
Wherever you are, Leah, please God be safe. I can’t lose you. Not you.
She heard, from beyond the kitchenette’s windows, a sputtering and a popping of gravel: the wheels of heavy vehicles crunching over stones.
Gabriel drew in a breath.
‘What is it?’
‘We’ve got visitors,’ he replied. ‘Looks like it’s the tanács .’
Hannah felt herself quail at his words.
C HAPTER 6
Interlaken, Switzerland
L eah was still staring at A Kutya Herceg across the dining table, heart thumping in her ears, when the man who had ferried her to this mountain hideaway strode in through the room’s double doors, clutching her snub-nosed Ruger. ‘ Após! Állj! ’ he barked, gesturing at her host.
The old man spun around to face him. He raised a hand and jabbed it towards Leah. ‘ Ki kell dobnunk a boszorkányt a folyóba. Hátha lebeg! ’
Horrified, Leah glanced from one to the other. She pushed the chair back from the table and rose to her feet. Her grasp of Hungarian had improved over the years; now, her scalp prickled at his words.
We should throw this witch in the river and see if she floats.
For a moment, confused by the rush of events, Leah had thought her driver intended to rescue her from the old man’s wrath. Then the word he had used when he’d first appeared came back to her: Após .
Father.
It wasn’t her he had come to rescue at all. ‘He’s your father?’ she blurted, and instantly regretted it.
After a moment’s pause, the younger man turned to her. She could see the anger burning on his face. ‘You catch on fast.’
Leah’s host spat out another stream of Hungarian invective, his finger still hooked towards her.
‘ Elég, Após ,’ the younger man replied.‘ Elég .’
‘ Fiú— ’
‘No,’ he insisted. ‘I will deal with this. I have questions of my own. If she doesn’t co-operate, you can have your turn.’
The two kirekesztett stared at each other, father and son. After what seemed like an eon of frozen time, the father relaxed his grip on the table. When he cast his eyes back at Leah, she saw murder lurking there – cold violence. With a swiftness that surprised her, he marched out of the room.
A Kutya Herceg’s son shut the door. ‘Sit down,’ he said. And, because of the way he looked at her, she complied without a word.
He pulled out the chair opposite and sat, placing her pistol on the table with a clatter. He spun it, trapped it with his hand, spun it again. The barrel ended up facing her. ‘Either you’re incredibly stupid, unbelievably arrogant, or monumentally naive. I’m trying to work out which.’ His eyes were dark, the last tints of colour fleeing to the outer edges of his irises.
‘Perhaps I’m all three.’
‘Lonely, too, I imagine. Am I right?’
The question jolted her. All of a sudden she felt horribly exposed by his gaze, as if with a single question he had peeled away her layers of armour and shone a light into the parts she tried to keep concealed.
‘You must be,’ he added. ‘Growing up in fear, the way you did. Never able to put your trust in people. Moving from place to place.’ He paused. ‘Watching your father die.’
She stiffened, and again his expression shifted, as if, having probed her
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