Flesh and Blood by Nick Gifford Read Free Book Online Page B

at this.
    Matt was surprised. He had been sure it was his father who was the reason for their infrequent visits, not his mother.
    At the bottom of the garden there was a stone bench, its surface weather-stained and mottled with lichen. Gramps lowered himself onto the seat and, after a moment’s hesitation, Matt joined him.
    “You found my books, all right, then.”
    Matt was surprised to remember that it was only this morning that he had gone out to Crooked Elms with Vince. It all seemed so long ago, somehow. He nodded. “In the basement,” he said. “Just like it said on the list.”
    His grandfather was peering at him, his pale blue eyes picking up the lights from the house so that they shone eerily in the dusk shadows. “You... you didn’t have any trouble?”
    Matt started to shake his head, then stopped, unsure. “I fell over,” he said. “Hit my head, I think. But it’s okay – I didn’t break anything.”
    “You came to stay with us when you were five months old,” said Gramps, abruptly. “Screamed the place down for most of two days. I said then that you were a sensitive one. Dizzy, were you? Did you feel the heat? Did you see anything?”
    Matt shuddered, unnerved by his grandfather’s words. He remembered Vince talking about dark powers, special places, the family madness. “I just fell,” he said. “Tripped over something, I suppose. I blacked out for a short time and then Vince came and helped me.”
    Gramps gasped. “Vincent?” he hissed. “He was there with you?”
    “He drove me there,” said Matt patiently. “He has the keys.”
    “What happened? What did he do?”
    Matt glanced up towards the house, worried by his grandfather’s sudden agitation. “Nothing,” he said, remembering Vince’s mad stare as he had so carefully slashed his own arm. “He sat in the car most of the time, then he helped me with the box. That’s all.”
    Gramps gripped his arm tightly. “You should be careful of that one,” he said. “He doesn’t know how dangerous he is, dabbling in things he doesn’t understand. He’s not a Wareden, you know – not really one of us at all. Doesn’t have the Wareden insight... doesn’t have the sensitivity... doesn’t appreciate the family way. Do you understand me, boy? Do you?”
    Gramps was panting rapidly, hyperventilating.
    Matt stood. “I’ll just go and get Mum,” he said, backing away.
    Gramps half-stood, then slumped back onto the bench. “No,” he said. “No, Matthew! I need to talk to you. I need to warn you, don’t you understand?”
    “Calm down, Gramps,” said Matt, scared by the sudden intensity of the old man. “Later, okay? We’ll talk later. You just need to calm down now, okay?”
    But his grandfather pushed himself up again, and this time he managed to stand. “No,” he said. “Now... now’s the time to...”
    Matt turned and ran.
    A moment later, he burst in through the back door. Carol took one look at him and then rushed out past him into the growing darkness.
    His mother was slower to react. She stared at him. “What is it?” she asked.
    “Gramps,” said Matt. “He started ranting, started to shout... to get over-excited.” He thought then of Vince’s words. “I think he’s gone mad,” he said. “I think he’s finally flipped.”
    Gramps had fallen over onto the lawn.
    When Matt saw Carol crouching by him, he feared the very worst.
    Then he heard his grandfather’s voice, mumbling away, the words completely unintelligible by now.
    Carol turned the old man onto his side, and when Matt’s mother joined her the two of them were able to raise Gramps to a sitting position.
    Matt stood back, wishing he could disappear completely in the shadows, as they helped Gramps back into the house. Uncle Mike was standing in the doorway, watching it all with a drunken smile on his face.
    As they took Gramps to his room, Mike burped softly into the back of his hand.
    “Good one,” he said, turning to Matt. “Got him well