Read The Collector Book One: Mana Leak for Free Online Page B

fell; various paperbacks and magazines scattered on the floor.
    Disappointed with her wasted evening, Eleanor rose from her chair. The process had lengthened in her old age, starting with a gentle shift to the very edge of the seat followed by an almighty push to her feet. Her knees clicked.
    Whatever is over the horizon, it had better come soon. I’m too tired of all this, just too tired and too damn old!
    Shuffling onto the landing, she decided to leave Joseph to it and head to bed. All the reading had strained her eyes, which already threatened a low, throbbing headache.
    Better to get ready for bed now and have a lie down in a darkened room. Early start tomorrow. I’ll make Joseph breakfast in the morning, just like Arthur used to. He’ll like that.
    “Good night, Joseph!” she called down the stairs. “Don’t stay up too late!”

4.
    Joe cracked open his second beer. His grandmother never had any alcohol in the house, besides the occasional bottle of wine for cooking. Preparing for this imminent obstacle, he’d smuggled a six-pack of lager inside his suitcase. Joe knew his grandmother might disapprove if she caught him, but she remained upstairs with her books.
    He sat in his grandfather’s chair in front of the television, watching the snooker. He had little time for the sport, but found it more entertaining than a politics show, celebrity something-or-other or a bland American sitcom. His mind wandered from the rolling balls and hushed commentary of the screen. His thoughts drifted down the street and loitered outside Anne Harper’s house.
    He remembered her eyes were red and blotched and presumed this wife-beating husband of hers, this Frank, had been to blame. He certainly seemed pissed off, the way he hunched over the steering wheel as he’d sped past.
    A sudden roar from outside broke his pondering. It sounded like a chainsaw, or motorbike. He jumped up and with the can of lager still in his hand, rushed to the window. He pulled back the curtain.
    Outside, the street stood empty. A cloud of black smoke hung in the air near the Dean’s house, stretching towards the main road. The Dean twins themselves had vanished from their spot on the low wall.
    Must have been a motorbike after all.
    Joe drank from his can and craned his neck to look down the street, in particular, the house next door.
    I should really go over there. Just to check the dog is okay, at least. It could have gone into shock or something.
    He gulped down the remaining beer and, leaving the television on, left the living room. After disposing of the empty can with its partner in the kitchen bin, he sneaked down the hall and out the front door.
    Night had descended early. The street had darkened to a grey hue, under a blanket of cloud that had swept in overhead. The vibrant colours of spring were drowned out by the messengers of the approaching storm. Joe felt the breeze, surprisingly cold after such a nice day, pass through his thin shirt, chilling the skin.
    Looks like the guy on the radio was right. We might be in for a rough night.
    Joe glanced at his beloved new car. Having the thieving Dean twins so close bothered him. Satisfied the car appeared fine, and that the stereo was still attached, he headed across to the driveway of the house next door.
    It lay empty.
    He wiped his moist palms on the front of his shirt. His heart flickered like a flame, and his stomach squirmed full of snakes.
    What the hell is wrong with me? I’m not a lovesick teenager asking out the girl next door. I’m just going to see if the dog’s okay. The dog and the kids, they could be upset.
    He walked up a short pathway paved in grey and red slabs, past the front window and up to the front door. He rang the doorbell.
    Inside, the dog - Betsy, he recalled - started to bark, which was immediately followed by shouts from the children.
    “Betsy! Be quiet!”
    “Stop barking, Betsy!”
    A chain rattled, and the door swung open, revealing a young girl, maybe only