Flamethroat

‘I heard you walking around the house,’ Kenneth pursed his lips. ‘Did you hear us arguing?’


‘I already told you, I was asleep,’ she said, becoming even more irritated.

‘It’s all right if it upset you,’ Kenneth said in a voice he hoped was soothing, rather than impatient.

Helena rolled her eyes. ‘Maybe you were dreaming,’ she said.

‘I was awake.’

‘So, maybe there’s a burglar’ she said sarcastically. She was getting quite annoyed now.

‘It’s okay to talk to me about it, sweetheart.’

‘Dad!’ Helena sat bolt right up in bed.

‘Okay, okay.’ Kenneth backed up, his hands in the air.

‘No, Dad!’ Helena pointed to the area over Kenneth’s right shoulder.

Kenneth didn’t even have time to turn his head before he was consumed by darkness. A sack smelling of dirt and sweat was placed over his head and tightened painfully around his neck. He fell to his knees in shock and the fireball in his hand extinguishing at once, throwing the rest of the room into total darkness.

‘Daddy!’ Helena’s voice cried. Kenneth knew that she could no longer see because the only source of light had been from his Power.

A large body slammed Kenneth to the floor and pinned him with a grunt. Kenneth struggled against the intruder but it seemed there was more than one. His hands were bound. He tried to yell for Helena to run, but the wind had been knocked out of him. He heard a scuffle before Helena’s voice became muffled as a sack was placed over her head too.

No, no, no, was all Kenneth could think.

He could hear Helena’s muffled voice crying, ‘Daddy, Daddy!’ It tore him up inside. He couldn’t do anything. He couldn’t move. There were at least three of them. He was pinned to the ground, his hands and feet had been tied in an instant. He was helpless, like a pig about to be slaughtered. He tried to conjure flames, but he was stopped in his tracks.

A hand came down upon his shoulder and a wave of electricity shot through his body, paralysing him. The pain was so intense that it rendered him useless. His body went rigid and began to convulse involuntarily. When the pain stopped he was left gasping for air. He was dizzy and on the brink of consciousness.

‘Now the girl,’ a gruff voice ordered.

‘No!’ Kenneth wheezed.

Helena’s cry pierced the air like a knife to his heart. Tears escaped his eyes and he felt himself slowly slipping away.

‘Get the woman,’ the gruff voice sounded again.

‘Aye,’ replied a voice with an Irish accent.

Heavy boots tramped through the house to his right. Kenneth listened as the door to his bedroom was kicked in. Anya screamed and then there was the sound of a roaring fire. A man yelled in agony and the sound of crashing closely followed.

‘Anya,’ Kenneth gasped. ‘Yes.’

‘Oh, for goodness sake,’ a man drawled. The voice was clear and curt. ‘Go and help him will you? He can’t shock her if he can’t get close enough.’

‘Right,’ the gruff voice said, slightly bored as though this was a regular occurrence. Kenneth was highly aware of the fact that he couldn’t hear his daughter moving, or making a sound any more.

The ruckus in the hallway continued. The roar of the fire was deafening and Anya was screaming. ‘OH, NO YOU DON’T!’

Bangs and crashes followed again. It sounded as though the house was being destroyed. Surely the neighbours would notice and come to help?

The sound of destruction stopped very suddenly and Kenneth held his breath in anticipation. His heart sank when he heard Anya cry, quickly followed by the sound of a body collapsing to the floor.

‘She’s out,’ the Irish voice said, panting heavily. ‘Got her. She’s a feisty one.’

‘Good. Come and do this fellow again. He didn’t go the first time.’

The footsteps were back now, along with the smell of burnt hair.

‘Should have given this big fella a higher volt.’

For the second time Kenneth felt the hand come down onto his shoulder and the paralysing shock rocketed through his body. He didn’t feel it for long. Everything faded.





Chapter One


Home


Jack and I soared high above endless greenery, our spirits soared even higher as we made our way to Mortlock. Of course, on Hawthorne, my flying fox, the journey would pass in the blink of an eye. We would probably cover the fifty miles within a matter of hours.

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