Sister Death (Acid Vanilla Series Book 4) by Matthew Hattersley (best short novels of all time txt) 📗

she turned her attention to the mirror above the sink. The woman glaring back at her looked worn out, yet her eyes were still fixed and glassy. The same look she always had when the bats were running wild in her psychology. She grinned at herself, checking her teeth, pulling at the skin on her cheeks and neck. Not bad for thirty-four, she told herself, and for someone who’d consumed little sustenance but a whole lot of toxins for the last few months.

But that stopped, today. The drink and casual sex had been a decent enough way to numb the pain and confusion circling the drain in her consciousness, but it was a delay tactic rather than a fix. To kill a demon you had to face a demon. It was the only way. She gave her reflection a nod before stepping inside the shower unit and closing the glass door behind her. The pressure of the water was lame but it was pleasingly hot. She placed her head underneath the jets and closed her eyes, trying to ignore the crushing cacophony of futile thoughts fluttering across her mind.

It was true, the bats were having real fun now, but even they couldn’t drown out the dark presence which was getting closer by the hour. She turned around to search for shampoo, which was difficult when the glass shower unit was as cramped as a coffin. A larger person – Danny, for instance – would have trouble fitting, she thought, then kicked herself again for thinking about him in that way. Naked. Droplets of water dripping down his chest.

“Stop it, now,” she hissed. “Not the time.”

She turned the shower off and stood for a moment in the immediately silent and cold unit. Steam had filled the room but she could see there was no towels on the rail. Leaving a trail of water she padded barefoot into the bedroom, still not bothering to close the door, or even attempting to cover herself as she checked the dresser and small wardrobe for a towel.

“You okay in there?” Danny called through from the lounge.

“Yes. Thank you. You come up with a plan yet?”

She heard movement and shifted over to the door, hiding behind it as Danny approached. “I got the bones of one,” he said. “Only thing is, there’s a spanner in the works that we could do with sorting out first.”

“Magpie?”

“Aye, the mad nun. With her still after me – us – it’s all going to be so much harder. If we could just…”

“I know.” She lowered her head. “You’re right.”

“So you reckon you can, ya know, take her out?”

She pressed her face against the door. The cool wood felt good against her skin.

“Acid?”

“I’m here,” she said quietly. “I’ve been thinking the same thing. It’s just…”

“What?”

“Nothing. Forget it.” She straightened her back. Took a deep breath. “Yes, I can do that. I will do. I’ll give my contact another call, see if I can get a location out of him, anything. But first I need rest.”

“You sound different. Is everything all right?”

She glanced out of the window, now a square of inky blackness. “I’m fine,” she told him. “Give me a few hours, I’ll be sorted. I suggest you do the same. We’ve got a busy day or two ahead.”

“Aye, I guess, but—”

“Good man.”

She closed the door on him and, still wet, collapsed onto the soft bed. Sleep was a long way off, she knew that already. But she was glad to be alone at least, somewhere quiet and still. For once that was what she needed. And for now, all she could hope for.

Twenty-Five

Sleep may have been a way off but had happened eventually it seemed. Not that she remembered drifting off. Or even much about last night. But she’d clearly slept all the way through, the day’s scorching sun was already shining through the shadeless window.

Sliding off the bed, Acid padded to the dresser where she’d left her phone. After switching it on and waiting for the vibrating and flashing to cease, she checked her messages – one from The Dullahan, and from Spook too, both saying the same thing: the kid was on the mend.

It was a relief to hear, and the thought crossed her mind to phone but she quickly dismissed the idea. Speaking with Spook would either piss her off or have her questioning her decisions, and she couldn’t afford for that to happen. Not now. She’d told Danny she’d help him steal the egg, and she never backed out of a mission once she’d thrown her hat in the ring. Plus, this was how she got Magpie Stiletto. Plus, now that she was this close to Magpie Stiletto, it would be a waste to leave without killing the sour-faced bitch. To avenge her mother’s murder.

She typed out a brief text message to Sonny Botha’s secure line, asking him to ring her when he got a chance. Then she grabbed up the clothes she’d laid out the previous night (black leggings, plus her favourite Cramps t-shirt and Fox and Rose underwear). The fact her underwear matched gave her a moment’s pause (she didn’t want Danny thinking she’d worn them especially), but they were all she had left. She stepped into the lace pants and pulled them on, already annoyed with herself for even considering that he might see them. Because he wasn’t going to. That would be stupid. Very stupid.

Once dressed, she brushed her teeth and attended to her hair in the mirror. It was knotted and stuck up in all directions from falling asleep with it wet. But it kind of worked, as well.

So screw it.

The sound of electronic music filled the main space as she opened the door. She placed her phone on the kitchen counter and went through into the lounge.

“Bloody hell, can we turn this crap off?” she croaked, through a dry throat.

Danny glanced up from his position on the couch, lying with his legs dangling over the arm. “What you