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

“Sure, Sister. Same to you.

As she stepped out into the hot afternoon sun and heard the door close behind her, Acid couldn’t help thinking that could have gone a lot better. She flinched, an attempt to shake the confusion away. Had that scrawny penguin played her just now? And if so, what was she hiding? And why? She stared out over the ocean and huffed.

What a bloody waste of time.

The clock on her phone told her it was a few minutes after two. She briefly toyed with the notion of heading into town and asking around, but she knew it’d be the same story. People like Magpie, well-trained, experienced, they didn’t leave a trail. Better instead she head back to the apartment, see if Danny was any further forward with his plans. She set off walking, but as she reached the edge of the coastal path a voice called out behind her. She stopped and turned to see a nun running towards her, recognisable as one of the two younger ones who’d been sitting at the table.

“Esperar. Por favor. Please.”

Acid raised her chin. “What is it?”

“You were asking about the… umm… actress?”

“Actress?” But as she said it, the nun mimed at her hair, moving her hands down either side of her face. Streaks. Both sides. “Oh? Yes? The actress. So she was here?”

The young nun (couldn’t have been older than seventeen, she realised up close) glanced back at the convent. She looked terrified. Acid placed a reassuring hand on her shoulder. “It’s okay. I’m from Interpol. You aren’t going to get into trouble. This is the right thing to do. Just tell me the truth. The big man is watching, after all.”

“Sí. La verdad. Truth.” She smiled, her thin lips almost vanishing across her pale face. “She is staying here. I saw her leave a few minutes before you arrived.”

“Staying here? But how? Why?”

The young nun snorted. “She made a contribution to the convent. Is a lot of money.”

“I see.” Acid tensed. “And it’s definitely her, with two streaks in her hair?”

“Yes.” The nun looked down into her hands. “She was allowed to wear our clothing. Is research for a movie, something like that. I did not agree. I still don’t. It is not good.”

“No,” she said. “It is not good. Do you know where she went?”

The nun shook her head. “I am sorry. She seemed… angry as she left. No. Not angry. Decidido. Umm… determined. I heard her talking on her phone. Which is also not allowed here. But her voice – it sounded like El Diablo himself was inside of her. I heard her say she had all she needed, that she was ready to complete her mission. I do not know what this means.”

The words hit Acid like a rifle butt to the guts. After stammering a brief thank you to the bemused nun, she turned and ran as fast as she could back into town. The bats screamed in her ears, telling her how stupid she’d been, how foolish.

Ready to complete her mission…

Somehow Magpie had found out where they were hiding and she was on her way to the apartment. Only, Acid was up here on the hillside and Danny was all alone. And sure, he was a big guy, and shrewd too. But he was also unarmed and unaware. If Magpie got to him first, he didn’t stand a chance.

Twenty-Seven

An intense pain stabbed into Acid’s temples as she ran down the hillside towards the city. Like a stress headache, but one exacerbated by a million unseen bat wings beating against her nervous system.

How the hell could she have been so stupid?

Ever since she’d left Annihilation Pest Control she’d felt herself slipping, growing softer, losing focus. But to leave Danny alone, with one of the most vindictive and skilful assassins she’d ever met hunting him, she must be crazier than she realised. A screeching dissonance of silent chatter blistered across her synapses as she hurried down a flight of stone stairs leading to the roadside and jumped the final three. Her blood was on fire, pumping heavily through her veins as she pushed through the soreness in her thighs and calves, and fought the constricting pressure in her chest.

The old Acid Vanilla would have killed Magpie by now. Would have done it the first day. That version of her – tunnel-visioned, hyper alert, not resting until she had the mark in her sights – would be back in England by now. Or on the next job. But no. She’d messed around, searching for distractions, letting her focus drift to eggs and blue-eyed boys and money.

What was certain, she realised – as she zig-zagged though the labyrinth of alleyways and backstreets she hoped would take her to the far side of the apartment building – she didn’t have the same bloodlust the old Acid had. Once, it was almost overpowering, and a driving force in her life. Even now, thinking about Magpie, about Caesar, about what they did to her mum, her desire for vengeance was ebbing. The ramifications of what that meant made her want to throw up.

“Fuck off. Get lost.”

She barked the words viciously into the sky, an act of defiance towards more obtrusive thoughts. Up ahead she could see the apartment building and the corner unit on the second floor where Danny was. Despite the late afternoon sun the lounge light was on, visible through a gap in the blinds. She didn’t see any movement. Another thirty seconds and she’d be there. She slipped the backpack off and pulled out the nine in readiness. She could still make this right. She would.

She had to.

With her breath held like a physical ball of energy in her throat, she entered through the back door of the building. Letting the Viking lead the way, she took the stairs two at a time, shifting around the first floor landing and up the final flight of stairs to room twenty-six. Nothing seemed out of order as she