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

he was only two years old. For the young Daniel Flynn (small for his age, not many friends), Uncle Jimmy was funny, relatable, but with a real edge to him, which meant you knew never to talk back or overstep the mark. Of course, as Danny got older he began to hear the stories, the whispered asides whenever Jimmy stepped into a room. But it was the fear he saw in people’s eyes that sold it. So he knew what Jimmy was, what he had been, and for that reason – at least in a situation such as this – he trusted him completely. Trusted him with his life.

Shite, what other option did he have?

“Come on, where are ya?” he muttered to himself, squinting his eyes into the hordes of people on this side of the park. Families with young kids mainly, all chattering and whooping excitedly at the huge-headed figures on display, their excitement audible even over the loud music pumping from the speaker-stacks dotted around the area.

Another check on his phone told him it was six.

So where was this woman? Was she even coming?

He began to cautiously move around the side of the large carousel when it started up, walking in the opposite direction as the painted horses rose and fell to the music, ridden by loud, highly strung children, chuckling gleefully at the archaic ride. It surprised him that, notwithstanding the fear knotting his stomach, he could still smile at the sight. Nice to see a little ray of innocence shining through the poisonous shitstorm he’d created for himself.

As he walked around the carousel, his attention veered from female face to female face. Not an unusual occurrence for Danny, but today it was for a very different reason.

Was that her?

Was that?

He made eye contact as he passed by them, smiled a slight half-smile, but received no flicker of recognition in return. In his imagination he was looking for an older woman, possibly a local. Although, he quicky realised that was because in his mind’s eye he was picturing Camila, the kind-faced old dear from his guest house.

But if this woman was anything like the vision in his head, it meant he couldn’t rely on her to be anything other than a mere conduit for the new passport his uncle was sending. From the moment Uncle Jimmy had told him it was a woman coming to help, Danny had misgivings. How the hell was one person (and a woman, at that) going to be any use at all against that killer nun and the combined force of Delgado’s mob? He hadn’t said any of this, of course, because his uncle was adamant. A woman was on her way to Spain, an old friend, who would help Danny get home. End of story.

As he circled the carousel, he came across a long line of food vans and saw a woman standing next to one with a steaming pan of paella on the counter. She was wearing large dark glasses that obscured most of her face but appeared to be looking straight at him. When she smiled and held up her hand, he did the same.

“I was thinking you weren’t going to show,” he gasped, as he got nearer. “Thank fuck you’re here tho—” He shut up as she hurried straight past him and flung her arms around a young woman with short blonde hair wearing a tie-dye tube dress. “I see,” he muttered. “Back to the drawing board.”

On a good day, he’d think the smells coming off the food stalls was glorious and would definitely have stopped to indulge. Exciting-looking delicacies bubbled in hot oil that was bright orange with paprika and rich with garlic and herbs, sweet and spice all rolled into one, a feast for the nose as well as the eyes. But Danny had no appetite. In fact, if anything, the smells made him feel nauseous as he completed another futile circuit of the fairground ride.

The phone screen read ten past six now and his next thought was to again call his uncle, tell him his plan had failed and that this woman, whoever she was, wasn’t coming. But as he cast his gaze over the crowds one last time his heart stopped and his breath froze in his throat. Standing by a small group of trees, shaded from the late afternoon sun as it made its descent over the horizon, another woman was staring at him. A woman he recognised. The habit was gone, the headdress too, but Danny would know that face anywhere. The brutal sneer, the heavy eyebrows twisted into a deep scowl had been burnt into his memory, labelled by his threat response network as Danger – as Get the hell out of here!

The woman stepped out from the cover of the trees and walked towards him, weaving slowly through the swarms of revellers as Danny began to back away. A perimeter fence had been set up around the edge of the park for the festival – mainly as a structure from which to hang advertising boards, rather than to keep people enclosed – but nevertheless his means of escape were now limited. He scurried around the carousel, pushing past people as he went, skipping around groups of children and almost falling over a small dog, all the while glancing back over his shoulder. She was still trailing him, moving methodically but without haste, her eyes fixed, her face without expression. It only made her seem more sinister.

Around the other side of the carousel, Danny hurried along a long strip of fencing that led towards the south side of the park. The festivities hadn’t yet spread this far, which meant he was leaving the relative safety of the crowds, but he could now get some speed up, put distance between him and the sadistic killer nun.

But not so. As he opened up into a sprint, a cursive look over his shoulder told him she was matching his pace, step by step. Gulping