Craven Manor(7)

Kyle clapped the side of his face in a mock caress that made Daniel’s blood boil. “If you’re real nice to Fletch, he might help get you a job at his place. Washing dishes or something. They’re not too fussy about who they hire for that.”

“I have a job offer.” The words were out before he could consider whether they were prudent. “Groundskeeper. Good pay. Accommodation included. So—so—”

Kyle’s flabby cheeks pinched up as he tried to keep a laugh inside. “What? Groundskeeper? Is that even a real job? You’re pulling my leg.”

“I’m not. I have the letter!” He pulled it out of his pocket and waved it at Kyle, but his cousin had already turned back to the lounge with a flippant “pfft!”

Fletch pulled a handful of chips out of a bag beside him with one hand and resumed the game with his other. “Oh, and hey, I moved your stuff out of the room, man. It’s in the hallway. Sorry for the inconvenience or whatever.”



Sorry for the inconvenience or whatever. The words looped through Daniel’s mind as he lay awake, staring at their apartment’s off-yellow ceiling. He was on the couch, as promised. It was stained with Kyle’s vomit from a few months back and wasn’t long enough for him to stretch his legs out. The streetlight outside the uncurtained kitchen window glared off the wall beside him, worse than a nightlight. Sorry for the inconvenience…

He rolled onto his side and clenched his hands under the pillow. He had always managed to scrounge enough for his share of rent. Rent for a room—not just a couch. He’d tried to negotiate a lower monthly payment while Fletch stayed there, but Kyle had been hardball about it. They needed the extra money to pay for utilities.

Utilities and new games. Daniel glowered at the cases lined up beside the TV. Kyle had at least two dozen of them, and a new one seemed to appear once or twice a month.

I can’t live like this. But… I have nowhere else to go. Do I?

His defensive words rushed back to him. I have a job offer. That was true, technically. A job offer in a creepy abandoned house, from a man he’d never met, who compensated him in gold coins. But the coins had been real. Daniel had felt their weight in his hand. If the whole event had been a prank or some twisted joke, why had they included the coins when Daniel could have stolen them and run?

That meant he was either being pranked by someone wealthy—like a TV show on a mission to discover just how reckless an unemployed man could get—or the offer was genuine.

Daniel actually managed a laugh, but it quickly died away. Is it possible it’s a real job? No joke and no murderers waiting to harvest my organs? If their purpose was to lure me into a remote area, they’d already achieved it. Why leave the coins? Why not attack me while my guard was down? And if it really is some kind of TV show or something, I should at least get compensated at the end of it, right?

The fridge rattled as it defrosted itself. Kyle’s snores were audible through the thin walls, and the smell of weed drifted out from underneath the door to what had once been Daniel’s room. He threw the blanket aside and got up.

Daniel wove his way between the empty chip packets and beer cans to where his possessions had been haphazardly stacked in the hall, and he stuffed his spare clothes and most important keepsakes into a tatty backpack. The clock on the wall said it was five in the morning. The sun would be up soon to light his way to Craven Manor.





Chapter Four





Mist plumed around Daniel’s face with every breath. He was shivering, even though he’d taken several extra layers of clothing out of his backpack and bundled them around himself. He hiked along the rocky stone path leading to the manor’s gates, carrying his bike and silently cursing himself for his stubbornness.

Even if I get murdered, it’s still better than being homeless again. He wiped the back of his hand across his dripping nose and tried not to focus on the memories. Always being hungry. Always being cold. Business owners telling him to move on if he tried to sit under their awning when it rained. The schoolchildren, only a few years younger than he was, who had laughed as they kicked him.

And worst of all, people ignored him. Being homeless made him invisible. People would walk past, wearing thick coats and carrying hot takeaway coffees or eating burgers. Their eyes would pass over him as though he were an unattractive part of the scenery. No one said hello or even made eye contact. And that sense of non-existence had left him with a permanent fear of being forgotten by the world.

He supposed that was why he let Kyle dictate the rules so often. Kyle had recognised him on the street one afternoon and invited Daniel to share the apartment. Kyle could be stubborn, immature, and pushy, but he’d also paid attention to Daniel when no one else would.

Daniel let his pace slow. As he got closer to the mansion, misgivings crowded into his thoughts again. If it was a real job, he had to think the manor’s owner was somewhere between eccentric and insane. Even if Bran’s intentions weren’t outright malicious, the job could still be dangerous.

The bike caught on a root, and he had to stop to wrestle it free. Frowning, he quickened his pace again. Even if the job was dangerous, it came with real money, and he’d been paid up front. He could take the coins to a converter the next day and make plans based on how much they were worth.

Early light shone on the dew collected over the wrought-iron gates. They looked even more tragic in the morning glow, especially now that he could see how magnificent they must have been. The intricate designs worked in iron whispered of old-fashioned aristocracy and decadent homes. Like the day before, he left his bike sitting against the gate and squeezed through the gap. He tried not to shiver as the cold metal chilled his fingers.