Blood Prize by Ken Grace Read Free Book Online Page B

They shoved him through the door and into the darkness. When his eyes adjusted, he noticed that the warehouse seemed larger from the inside. Light streamed in from holes in the ceiling and upper windows, which highlighted the broken glass littering the floor.
    “You. Wait. Don’t move.”
    Tom turned back towards the doorway. He felt a moment of confusion; the SRP wore earmuffs and goggles with dark lenses.
    “What’s going on?”
    No-one answered.
    A hand grasped the back of Tom’s neck, forcing him forward and he stumbled further into the interior of the shed. He tried to straighten, but another push drove him to his knees amongst the broken glass.
    He became aware of movement. A flickering of light appeared in his peripheral vision, to his left; reflecting off the tin. He turned towards the source.
    Am I dreaming? Could this be real?
    He gawked at the glowing shape suspended high above the floor at the southern end of the shed; monstrous in its proportions. He tried to turn his face from the light, but some kind of force prevented him from moving.
    He went rigid. The creature behind the radiance beamed malice at him. It raised its arms and the light around it sparked and crackled; growing in intensity; overwhelming him. Behind the glare, its lips parted and it screamed with a keenness that drove Tom backwards onto the broken fragments of glass.
    Then hands grabbed his ankles and dragged him across the warehouse floor. He felt stunned and lifeless when they lifted him and threw him into a smaller room.
    Tom heard laughter. Somehow, he sat at a table across from a smiling Frederick Vogel and an enormous older man with oily hair.
    “I see you’ve met our glowing friend.”
    Vogel’s smile dissolved; his expression turning hateful. Tom recognised his sneer as viciousness; it conveyed danger, like standing too close to the edge of a precipice.
    Tom thought about saying something like, ‘why the hell am I here?’ Instead, he just stared straight ahead at nothing.
    “It’s a shock, isn’t it?”
    He waited for Tom to respond and became annoyed when he didn’t react. He banged his fist on the desk.
    “We know who you are.”
    “I don’t have a clue what you’re talking about.”
    Vogel eased back into his plush leather chair and tapped his fingers on the desk.
    “I’ve got you by the balls, Fox. You’re the son of a traitor; a co-conspirator and we’ve caught you consorting with an anti-government group.”
    Tom noticed Vogel’s teeth appear through his smile, turning it into a grimace.
    “You’ve made a mistake. I’m not the person you think I am.”
    “Don’t be smug with me. I can have you hanged.”
    Tom didn’t respond, he didn’t know how to. This day became more surreal by the moment.
    “Well?”
    Again, Tom didn’t answer.
    “We know you’re working on behalf of your late father. All you have to do is give us what we’re after and you can go free.”
    Tom’s thoughts felt like swirling water. Reality followed patterns that he could accept and understand, but this … He looked at the man accusing him from across the table and realised that he hadn’t mentioned the killings.
    Good. Something positive.
    With an effort, he staggered to his feet and his wooden chair crashed to the ground.
    “Look, I can’t even remember my real father. You can’t hold me. I’m outta here … I’m going home.”
    Home …?
    He remembered … Home didn’t exist. He felt completely drained. Defeated, he stooped, picked up the chair and sat back down.
    “You’re a clown. You’re going to give me what I want, or …”
    Vogel ceased talking as the enormous man beside him rose to his feet with a series of grunts. As he straightened, he attempted to gather the few escaping strands of hair that hung in front of his face.
    Vogel stood and nodded as the man left the office.
    He remained standing for several seconds staring at the door, before turning his attention back to Tom. Then he leaned across the table,