find a vocation.
Declan had found heroin instead. He’d never told another what he grappled with every day. Not even
his brother, Colm—not even before their fal ing-out.
His mam wouldn’t be the first family member Declan had stolen from.
By the time he reached his parents’ at three in the morning, he was quaking so hard his vision blurred.
He’d already vomited twice, laden with strain. Those screams …
The front door was open, the house quiet. He eased inside, going straightaway to the kitchen, to the
bottle of whiskey he knew he’d find in one of the cabinets. Might help him get through the next couple of
hours. He lifted it, chugging—
He lowered the bottle, peering into the dark. In a murky corner of the kitchen, someone lay on the floor.
Was his brother passed out? “Jaysus, Colm. Ye’re too young. Ye want to end up like me?” Declan would
beat his arse for this. “Colm?” he demanded, striding over. “What the bloody—”
His brother’s sightless eyes were opened wide, fixed on the ceiling. His throat was slashed down to the
spine.
“C-Colm?” he rasped. Dead? Someone had murdered his little brother? He stared dumbly, tears
wel ing. Until muffled screams sounded from the living room.
Somebody’s hurting me parents too! Fury ignited within him, burning away the tears. In a daze, Declan slipped into his parents’ bedroom, grabbed the bat propped by his da’s side of the bed.
When he entered the living room, he faltered, barely able to comprehend what he saw. Red-eyed
beings with fangs and claws fil ed the area. And those were the creatures with humanlike bodies. Others
were winged monsters with bulging eyes and limbs jutting out al over.
The winged ones had gagged and tied up his parents on the floor so they could … slowly feed. Their
deformed mouths peeled away one strip of flesh at a time—while his mam and da stil lived, screaming in
agony against their gags.
Me mind’s going to break, can’t do this, can’t believe this is happening. But just when Declan thought he’d pass out from the crazy pounding of his heart, one monster’s head rose up from his da, and blood
dribbled from its mouth.
Da’s blood.
A mindless wrath overwhelmed Declan, and he attacked them. Al he could hear was his thundering
heart, his bel ows, the bat connecting with bone over and over. He didn’t know where this frantic strength was coming from, but he crumpled the metal bat against their skul s.
Yet as powerful as he was, they were more so. They kept coming and coming until they overpowered
him, pinning his thrashing body to the floor. Even as he flailed, he spied a glimpse of some eerie kind of intel igence in the hideous eyes of a winged monster, and Declan had an instant of clarity.
Colm was the lucky one. …
As ever, Declan’s mind wasn’t ready to relive what those creatures had done to him—the unimaginable
torment until he’d blacked out; twenty years later, his dream easily flickered past, picking up at the time when consciousness had trickled in once more. From outside his parents’ house, he’d heard voices, and
final y the blackness wavered.
He felt the biting tension on his bound wrists and ankles ease, nearly screaming as circulation coursed
to his hands and feet once more. How long ago had he been tied up?
Days. …
He was aware of a man’s voice tel ing him that he would live, that help was here. “Those things have
been slaughtered, son. They’l never hurt anyone again.”
“Da?” Declan rasped before the blackness took him once more.
In a kind of twilight, he felt his bones being set, his skin pierced again and again as his numerous
wounds were stitched.
When he woke, he was in a hospital, covered in bandages and casts. A tal , dark-haired man sat
beside his bed.
“I’m Commander Webb,” he said, his Yank accent marked. “You’re in a private hospital. You’re safe
now.”
Declan recognized the voice of the man who’d saved his
Declan had found heroin instead. He’d never told another what he grappled with every day. Not even
his brother, Colm—not even before their fal ing-out.
His mam wouldn’t be the first family member Declan had stolen from.
By the time he reached his parents’ at three in the morning, he was quaking so hard his vision blurred.
He’d already vomited twice, laden with strain. Those screams …
The front door was open, the house quiet. He eased inside, going straightaway to the kitchen, to the
bottle of whiskey he knew he’d find in one of the cabinets. Might help him get through the next couple of
hours. He lifted it, chugging—
He lowered the bottle, peering into the dark. In a murky corner of the kitchen, someone lay on the floor.
Was his brother passed out? “Jaysus, Colm. Ye’re too young. Ye want to end up like me?” Declan would
beat his arse for this. “Colm?” he demanded, striding over. “What the bloody—”
His brother’s sightless eyes were opened wide, fixed on the ceiling. His throat was slashed down to the
spine.
“C-Colm?” he rasped. Dead? Someone had murdered his little brother? He stared dumbly, tears
wel ing. Until muffled screams sounded from the living room.
Somebody’s hurting me parents too! Fury ignited within him, burning away the tears. In a daze, Declan slipped into his parents’ bedroom, grabbed the bat propped by his da’s side of the bed.
When he entered the living room, he faltered, barely able to comprehend what he saw. Red-eyed
beings with fangs and claws fil ed the area. And those were the creatures with humanlike bodies. Others
were winged monsters with bulging eyes and limbs jutting out al over.
The winged ones had gagged and tied up his parents on the floor so they could … slowly feed. Their
deformed mouths peeled away one strip of flesh at a time—while his mam and da stil lived, screaming in
agony against their gags.
Me mind’s going to break, can’t do this, can’t believe this is happening. But just when Declan thought he’d pass out from the crazy pounding of his heart, one monster’s head rose up from his da, and blood
dribbled from its mouth.
Da’s blood.
A mindless wrath overwhelmed Declan, and he attacked them. Al he could hear was his thundering
heart, his bel ows, the bat connecting with bone over and over. He didn’t know where this frantic strength was coming from, but he crumpled the metal bat against their skul s.
Yet as powerful as he was, they were more so. They kept coming and coming until they overpowered
him, pinning his thrashing body to the floor. Even as he flailed, he spied a glimpse of some eerie kind of intel igence in the hideous eyes of a winged monster, and Declan had an instant of clarity.
Colm was the lucky one. …
As ever, Declan’s mind wasn’t ready to relive what those creatures had done to him—the unimaginable
torment until he’d blacked out; twenty years later, his dream easily flickered past, picking up at the time when consciousness had trickled in once more. From outside his parents’ house, he’d heard voices, and
final y the blackness wavered.
He felt the biting tension on his bound wrists and ankles ease, nearly screaming as circulation coursed
to his hands and feet once more. How long ago had he been tied up?
Days. …
He was aware of a man’s voice tel ing him that he would live, that help was here. “Those things have
been slaughtered, son. They’l never hurt anyone again.”
“Da?” Declan rasped before the blackness took him once more.
In a kind of twilight, he felt his bones being set, his skin pierced again and again as his numerous
wounds were stitched.
When he woke, he was in a hospital, covered in bandages and casts. A tal , dark-haired man sat
beside his bed.
“I’m Commander Webb,” he said, his Yank accent marked. “You’re in a private hospital. You’re safe
now.”
Declan recognized the voice of the man who’d saved his
Similar Books
