Experiment in Terror 05.5 Old Blood by Karina Halle Page A

at his hair. I opened my mouth to apologize for my bold question but he spoke, “She’s ill. Mentally. We don’t know what’s wrong with her. And she drinks too much. She’s…she’s been steadily going downhill and it’s coming to the point that I can’t even deal with my own family. I need someone else to deal with it for me.”
    “ Someone like me?” I asked. I was starting to wonder if I had applied for something that was well beyond my abilities. Certainly I was no spring chicken and had a hard enough time chasing after Ingrid all those years ago. Would I be able to handle two young boys and their alcoholic, mentally ill mother? It seemed like it was a bit too much for me.
    Curtis caught the look on my face and as he twirled his wedding band around his finger, said, “I know I am not painting the best picture here but I want to be honest up front. My dignity means a lot to me and I need someone who will keep the image I have built up for myself. I am a good provider to my family and give them everything they wish to have. The boys, well the oldest anyway, are well-cultured and well-groomed. I work very hard to give them this life but I cannot be their mother. I don’t expect you to be their mother either, but the help would be more than appreciated. It would be better than what we currently have: A deadbeat.”
    I flinched at hearing him speak about his wife like that but he didn’t seem to notice. “I must say, I don’t know if I am the right candidate. I am in my fifties and have seen better days. Are you sure you wouldn’t want someone fresh and new?”
    He shook his head. “No. No, I saw quite a few fresh and new women this morning and I’m afraid they aren’t cut out for the job. It is not about the energy here. I doubt my boys will run you ragged, as I said they are, for the most part, very well-behaved. I need someone with the mental maturity to handle the situation with grace and class. For first impressions, you seem to have that.”
    Curtis tugged at his hair again, a gesture that I realized was a nervous tick. I wondered how he still had such nice hair with such a habit. He looked up at me, his face very serious. “I’ll pay you handsomely you know.”
    I didn’t want to assume as much, so I just smiled at him and ran things over in my mind, not really sure what to do. I didn’t know if such a household would be the right place for me, considering all I had gone through with my life. I certainly did not want to live it all over again. The fact that he would pay me well didn’t even factor into it.
    “ Jesus Christ,” he suddenly swore and I jumped in my seat. He got up and marched over to area between an armchair and the fireplace. He bent over and when he emerged he was holding a broken glass trophy in his hands. His eyes were wild with anger and I could feel it flowing off of him like it was steam. He looked to the mantel above the fireplace where I assumed the trophy once stood.
    “ That son of a bitch,” he said, his voice lowered, the full brogue coming out. As if I didn’t exist, he stormed past me and stuck his head out into the hallway.
    “ Declan Pierre O’Shea!” he bellowed, his voice echoing throughout the house. “You get your arse right down here this instant!”
    I turned in my seat and watched Curtis. He was clutching the trophy so hard, I was surprised he wasn’t drawing blood.
    “ Is everything alright?” I asked him.
    He shook his head, the anger never leaving his eyes, and waited by the doorway. I heard a shuffling and a small boy reluctantly appeared in front of his father.
    He was the youngest, the six-year old, skinny as anything, with a tuft of messy black hair that matched his father’s. His eyes were downcast, staring at the floor, but I would have bet they would be the same mahogany brown too.
    “ Did you break Michael’s lacrosse trophy!?” Curtis yelled at him.
    The child, Declan, didn’t move or say anything. I could see he was frigid with