Read The Collector Book One: Mana Leak for Free Online

moment as they enjoyed the hot tea. The occasional twinkle of a wind chime drifted through from outside. Joe thought of the DJ’s warning.
    …electrical storms on the way, so batten down the hatches tonight, folks!
    “I bumped, almost literally, into the neighbours on my way down the street,” he said.
    “The Harpers?”
    Joe described how he’d nearly hit Betsy the dog, and that Anne had passed on her good wishes.
    “Now there is a poor woman, little Anne Harper.”
    “What do you mean?”
    His grandmother swallowed. “You didn’t see the husband, Frank, did you?”
    “I might’ve done. Some guy drove past me like hell was on his heels.”
    “Was he a middle aged man? Balding?”
    “Yeah, that’s him.”
    “Such an angry man, Frank Harper. They think their problem is contained, that no one knows. But I see things. Hear things too. I know what’s going on in that house.”
    He leaned closer. “What?”
    Eleanor leaned in too. Joe expected her bones to creak.
    “There’s something wrong with him, you mark my words. He uses that poor woman like a punch bag, beats her black and blue. She tries to cover the cuts and bruises, but I’ve seen them.” She tapped her temple. “Something not quite right up here. A switch that doesn’t switch, I think.”
    Joe placed his drink back on the tray. Tea leaves swam in the bottom of his cup like a black sludge. His grandmother had entertained him many times by reading them when he was a child.
    “This is the problem, Grandma. Teenage thugs across the street, and a wife beater next door? It’s not safe here. Not for someone of your age living alone.”
    Eleanor chuckled. “I’m not as old and decrepit as some of you like to think.”
    “This isn’t a joke,” said Joe. “Every time I visit, I try to get you to come back to London with me. This time, I’m determined. I’m not going back without you.”
    “I’ve told you before. This is my home. I lived here with your granddad for most of my life. I’m not going to give up all these memories over a couple of wayward teenagers.”
    “But we can take all your stuff with us,” Joe pleaded. “You can still have your memories. I can afford a good house for you now, and in a nice area too.”
    “Throwing money around is not the solution. I hope your recent success hasn’t gone to your head. I know we raised you better than that, Joseph.”
    He sat back and sighed. “I just want you to be safe.”
    “And I am! The Dean twins tried to steal a few things, but they were caught. They won’t be back because next time they go to prison. Frank Harper only has fists for his wife. I feel ashamed to say it, but let that fact reassure you that he is not going to come over here. I don’t think he has ever come here. Stop worrying. Besides…”
    Eleanor rose from the armchair and lovingly stroked the top of its high back.
    “Your grandfather used to sit in this chair for hours. He’d push it up to the window and just watch the day go by.” She gestured out of the doorway. “He’d wake me up in the mornings with his whistling while he cooked me bacon and eggs for breakfast. This is all I have left of him. Memories and photographs. I could take the photos to London, I could even take the chair, but I feel like I’d be leaving him behind. Do you understand?”
    Joe sighed again. “I do, Grandma, I really do. But at least think about it. Okay?”

3.
    Eleanor had built all the shelving that covered the walls of her study; it had normally been a job for Arthur. Like the lounge, the study existed in a state of organised mess, with hundreds of books adorning every surface.
    Eleanor sat in a beaten old armchair next to the table and listened to Joseph change channels on the television downstairs. She rolled her eyes and reached for a book on Wicca.
    She’d only glanced over the chapters on magic and spell casting. Eleanor had no interest, nor belief, in attention-seeking teenage girls in fishnet stockings, claiming they