Sister Death (Acid Vanilla Series Book 4), Matthew Hattersley [best book club books for discussion .TXT] 📗

on her t-shirt. “I don’t know. You saw her just now. She’s in a bad way.” She placed the glasses back in time to see The Dullahan loosening his tie knot.

“What’s caused this change in her?” he asked.

“I have my theories. She’s been an assassin all her adult life, and before that she was in a home for psychologically dangerous girls or whatever it was called. I think she’s been completely institutionalised. She doesn’t know how to be – or who to be – in the real world.”

“The real world?” The Dullahan sneered. “What’s that?”

“You know what I mean. The outside world, then. I think she’s finding it difficult to fit in as a civilian, as she calls it. She’s bored. Depressed.”

Spook sat up when the sound of slow, deliberate clapping echoed around the room as Acid entered.

“Interesting theory, kid,” she said. “Can’t say I disagree.” She walked over to the fridge and yanked it open, running her tongue around her lips as she squinted at the contents.

“I thought I said get dressed,” The Dullahan snarled.

“I put some knickers on, calm down.” Still peering into the fridge, she lifted the back of her t-shirt to reveal a pair of black lace pants, wiggling her arse at him. “Have we got anything decent to drink?”

“There’s water in the faucet,” Spook said, and sniffed.

Acid slammed the fridge door and shuffled over to the sink, repeating Spook’s words back in a high-pitched whiney voice as she filled a glass with water. She drank it noisily, letting half of it run over her chin. Once the glass was empty, she filled it again and plonked herself down on the remaining chair, sitting in between Spook and The Dullahan.

“Jesus Christ, when did you last have a wash?” The Dullahan gasped. “I thought your room smelt bad.”

Acid lifted her arm and snorted her pit. “I can’t smell anything.”

“Aye, well, take it from me, you smell like the inside of a dog’s arse. Forget getting dressed, a shower’s your first port of call.”

“All right, Dad, calm down. So anyway,” she said, clapping her hands together, “are we actually having an intervention? What fun.”

“Less of the lip, lassie. Spook here is worried about you,” The Dullahan snarled. “We both are. I need you to straighten up. I have work for you.”

“Yeah, you said that already.” Turning her back on him, she looked Spook dead in the eyes. “So you think I’m institutionalised. Do go on.”

Spook leaned back in her chair. “What’s more to say? I keep telling you, there’s so much you can do with your life but you don’t seem to be able to see it. I think if you gave it a chance you might—”

“Tell me then, Dr Ruth,” Acid snapped, serious now to the point of angry. “If I can’t cope with civilian life, if I can’t fit in, what does that say about me? That the only way I can be happy is as a killer?”

“Were you happy as a killer?”

“I’ve never been happy,” she yelled, spraying spittle across the table.

It was the first time Spook had seen Acid lose her cool. It was unsettling.

“But at least I had some sort of purpose,” she went on. “What good am I now? I’m losing my edge. Lost it. Everyone says so. I’m soft and useless and I’m so… fucking… tired. I’m never going to get justice for my mum.”

“You’ve had a lot to deal with the last few years,” Spook replied, feeling braver. “I wonder if maybe you’ve got…” She trailed off, suddenly feeling less brave as Acid eyeballed her.

“What?”

“Well, I was going to say… maybe you’ve got… PTSD?”

“Oh, don’t be so bloody ridiculous.”

“Okay, so jumping at any loud noise, lunging at shadows, what would you call that?”

“I’d call it survival,” Acid replied. “I’d call it my life! My job! The way I’ve had to be since I was eighteen years old. Tell her, Dullahan, we have to be on our guard. Keeps us alive, right?”

“I can’t argue with her there,” he said with a sigh. “You relax in this game, you die.”

Spook ignored the old man. He was clearly no help. “But it doesn’t have to be that way. Not anymore.”

Acid looked at the wall. “How else can it be? I am who I am.”

“But that’s not true,” Spook cried, frustration trumping her nerves momentarily. “You’re bright, funny, clever as hell, when you want to be. You can do anything you want, but first you have to make peace with the fact that you aren’t your past. Step out of the shadow of being an assassin, and I promise, who you are will still be there.” She shut up, pleased with her speech, and allowing the words to hang in the air.

In turn, Acid stared at her with her lips parted, as though considering the idea. Then she let out a loud scoff. “What a load of bloody piffle,” she sneered. Then again with the whiney voice. “Ooh, step out of the shadows. You aren’t your past. Pfft! You watch too many movies, sweetie.”

“Acid,” The Dullahan barked. “Can we please talk about why I’m here?”

She took a big gulp of water and turned her attention to the old man. “Fine. Why are you here?”

The Dullahan looked at the ceiling, muttering to himself, before locking those steely and determined eyes with Acid’s. “You still owe me, right?”

She shrugged. “I guess so.”

“You know you do, and I’m cashing in. I need you to go to Spain. As soon as possible.”

“Spain? What’s in Spain?”

“Not what, who. Sheila’s sister’s boy, Danny. He’s got himself in a whole lot of trouble, so he has. I’ve not yet got the full story but my sources tell me he’s taken something he shouldn’t have from a man called Luis Delgado. I’d never heard of the fella before a few days ago, but by all intents and purposes he isn’t someone you want to get on the wrong side of.”

“And?” Acid asked. “Why doesn’t he get out of there?”

The Dullahan put his