Page 6 of Stone Temptation

I picked up the fake book at my feet as he fired again and evaded the dart in time, pretty quick on my feet.

“Stay still!” he spat. “There is no way out for you!”

After his third attempt to knock me out, I threw the book through a gap in the bars as hard as I could. It cracked him between the eyes with a satisfying smack.

Awesome!

I could have used the dagger, remembering it just as the plastic left my hand. Maybe I‘d fling it at him next.

The shock sent him stumbling forward on unsteady feet. He reached out for the bars for support, screaming a slew of curses at me when he realized his mistake.

There. That made two of us screwing up in his damn basement.

George’s body thrashed, smoking as sparks spat across his hands, electricity cooking him from the inside out. The stench of burning flesh assaulted my nostrils. I looked away from the grim scene, holding my breath as best I could, praying he didn’t start a fire.

A series of loud bangs followed, the cannibalistic bastard falling down dead. The door’s lock smoked then opened a tiny crack.

“Thank—”

The basement plunged into darkness, an eerie silence following. I waited for the big twist where George’s ravenous and vengeful twin showed up, but no one or nothing showed up.

Thank God.

Ready to go home now, I pulled out my phone and clicked on the torch. George remained dead and smoky, his acrid stink stinging the back of my throat. But the hum of electricity seemed to be gone.

No fires. Phew!

Now putting my dagger to good use, I threw it gently at the bars. No sparks. No reaction.

Hmmm.

I waited a few seconds, plucking a strawberry cream from my coat pocket, the sweetness helping to rebuild my determination.

There would be no helplessness here.

Using the plastic book, I held it against the bars, pushing hard. The door opened with an arduous squeak, George sliding across the floor with it.

Don’t puke. Don’t puke. Don’t puke.

When there was enough of a gap for me, I squeezed through, reclaimed my lockpick and dagger, and hurried across the basement.

Leaving the bookshop the way I’d come with my hood up, I hurried back to my car, heart hiccuping in my chest. Still alive. Not an old man’s snack or a youth restoration product.

Did that really just happen?

I picked up speed, grateful to not be stuffed into a baguette.

Once I reached my car, I fired up the engine, burning rubber down the country lane back to the south coast, leaving Periwinkle in the past.

For good.

TWO

Asher

Sitting comfortably on my mediation chair. Check.

Lavender candles lit. Check.

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