Absolution - The First Book Of The Vampire Immortalis Trilogy by Elizabeth Mitchell Read Free Book Online Page B

anything.”
    “I know what Jacob said, but it's tearing me apart knowing that innocent people are dying and I can't do anything to save them.”
    “Someone must have been in or near the abbey's grounds on the night the Hundeprest returned. The Hundeprest has possessed that person's body and that's why you don't see anything. If we find out who that person is, we find the Hundeprest. That's what we've got to focus on.”
    Adam put his arm around Anna, allowing her to snuggle up to him. “The Hundeprest isn't going to venture far from where he knows and that means the area around the abbey. Look, you stay here and get some rest. I'm going to go down to the abbey to see who's about. Who knows? Maybe I'll get lucky and bump into our friend, the Hundeprest. If I do, I'll be sure to say, 'hello', from both of us.”
     
     
     
    The goths rarely found anyone sitting on their bench. Sometimes, in the summer months, a tourist or two might use it to rest their weary legs, but only for a few minutes. When that happened, the goths would simply bide their time by monkeying around in the children's play park until the unwanted visitors went on their way.
    Nobody had ever been sitting on their bench in the evening though. The tourists were usually well gone by that time, especially now that Scotland had said goodbye to what little summer it had enjoyed and the nights were drawing in. This evening, however, there was a solitary figure sitting on their bench, in the dark and in the drizzle. A solitary figure that nobody recognised.
    “There's half a goth!” said David as the group walked towards him.
    David was somehow right with his snap diagnosis. Although evidently not a goth, the teenager sitting on the bench certainly had a gothic aura. It certainly wasn't his clothes. He was wearing standard issue blue jeans and a no-brand green hooded top, although he did get marks for sporting a pair of black Doc Marten boots and not the regulation trainers that everyone and his Dad seemed to wear these days. It wasn't his hair either. To be brutally honest, it was a cut that any mother would be proud of. There was definitely something about him though. His posture, his face, his pale complexion, maybe even his eyes, told you that he would make a very good goth if he wanted to be one. A very good looking goth too.
    “How's it going, mate?” asked Muckle as the goths gathered in front of the stranger.
    “How's what going?” came the reply. The stranger had obviously come a long way to sit on their bench because his accent suggested that he was American.
    “How – are – you?” Muckle asked, rephrasing his question while raising his voice and stressing each syllable that came out of his mouth. He was acting on the possibly false assumption that anyone can understand English as long as you speak slowly and loudly enough.
    “I - am - fine,” replied the stranger, mimicking Muckle's speech pattern. “But, hey listen, if I'm in the way here, I'm happy to move on.”
    Muckle stretched out his huge hand in friendship. “Not at all. I like a man with a sense of humour. I didn't know you Americans had it in you. You're more than welcome to stay as long as you budge up.”
    Parking himself next to Adam on the bench, the goth introduced himself. “I'm Muckle.”
    Muckle wasn't the teenager's real name. His family called him Michael, but because of his barn door size, his friends called him Muckle, a word meaning large or big in the Scots language.
    The stranger shook his hand. “Pleased to meet you, Muckle. I'm Adam.”
    Adam was soon shaking hands with each of the goths in turn, but only David said out loud what they were all thinking. “Your hand is freezing, man! You've been sat out here far too long!”
    “It's not Palm Beach, that's for sure!”
    “So what brings you to sunny Melrose then, Adam?” asked Lisa, one of two girls out of the six goths present, the other being her best friend, Heather.
    “Well, to cut a long story short, I