Waking Broken by Huw Thomas Read Free Book Online Page A

interests, right.’
    It was not a question and Harrison said nothing.
    ‘Word is, you had a little run in a couple of weeks back with a guy called Robertson. Accused him of poachin’ one of your girls after she went missin’.’
    Harrison licked his lips. Cole’s knowledge was too good to be comfortable. ‘So? Supposing that was true?’
    This time Cole’s laugh lacked any humour. ‘John, I’m not tellin’ you fairy stories. I know all sorts of things about you I’m positive you’d rather no one knew.’ He leant forward abruptly. Harrison saw the intensity in his gaze and shifted nervously on his chair. ‘But fuck that. I told you, I’m not here to cramp your style. I’m here for information.’
    Harrison shook his head. ‘But about what? And what’s your sister got to do with things.’
    Cole’s eyes welled up. ‘She’s missin’ too, isn’t she? Went out on a job. Never came back. Seems her an’ your girl ain't the only ones to go missin’ either.’
    There was a pause as the redheaded man stared into his whisky. His eyes closed briefly then he sighed. ‘She had a request to come to the Royal Hotel. Seemed regular enough. Thing is, there was no one in the room when she got there, just instructions to go to a restaurant few streets away. But she never made it. Turns out the hotel booking had been made using a stolen card too.’
    Cole slowly shook his head. ‘We haven’t heard from her since.’

Intermission
    Alone in the room, he sits motionless for a while: letting his mind clear, waiting for the static and chaff to fade away, preparing himself for the reverie.
    The only light comes from a single candle. It is mounted in a small holder inside a recess usually hidden by a large calendar. The recess also holds a couple of small icons. They are personal items that look to be of little consequence; the only clue to their significance is where they have been placed. Although mainly symbolic, the objects are charged with meaning; these are keys that help turn secret locks.
    One by one, the thoughts and irritations that have buzzed throughout his head during the day are cast out. A cool sensation spreads from inside his temples, soothing oil across the brain’s mental seething: the precursor of the rapture that will follow.
    The candle burns steadily, no rogue currents of air to disturb the purity of its flame.
    He breathes slowly, staring at the light. His vision is unfocussed: a golden blur with a dead centre. He does not see the icons but is aware of their presence.
    An involuntary shiver runs up his spine and his naked torso flexes. The movement of muscle and bone creates a ripple across his flesh. It makes the scars on his back twitch: dead tissue dancing to the tune of the living.
    An echo of the sensation moves up his neck and a faint smile twitches at the corner of his mouth. It is only a matter of time. A matter of letting his mind empty, cleansing his thoughts of distraction, concentrating on…
    When the feeling comes it is like a flood. It begins with a faint prickling in his palms. An instant later, it is everywhere. It swells up, consuming his thoughts, sweeping through every fibre of his body. It is fire and ice at the same time: a storm of calmness, a torrent of silence. It is the rapture and it has come to sweep him away with its power and its glory. He sings its praises in silent adoration, blessing the fortune that has singled him out for this.

7. Disturb My Natural Emotions
    Tuesday, 10.10am:
    Harper sat staring out of the window. Yesterday’s clear skies were gone, replaced by a low February overcast to match his mood. A blanket of grey sat above the city and the occasional rattle of hard, sleety rain pattered against the glass.
    When they returned to Brendan’s place the previous evening, Harper did not expect to sleep. But the combination of physical and mental exhaustion, several pints of Guinness and a few whiskies worked their magic. He was unconscious within minutes of his