Page 73 of The Crowing of Hell

“I don’t think Dad would want us to stay locked up down here. Dad would want us to do everything to escape. We gotta find Kenny and get out of here,” Kit stated with a determined glint.

Finn nodded in agreement, and a few moments later, Brax nodded, too. They were going to get out and take their Kenny with them.

Chapter Fifteen.

Kendara

“Hello again, Kendara!” a voice chirped.

My neck was stiff, and I rolled it before opening my eyes.

“Ummm,” I moaned as I focused on a non-descript man who was sitting opposite in a dining chair at a table. He looked to be mid-fifty and had a receding hairline, as I remembered before passing out. His skin was pale, and he clearly didn’t spend time working out or looking after himself. He had a paunch, and the way he dressed reminded me of a scholar.

“Kendara, it’s okay. The sedative is wearing off. I can’t say how delighted I am to speak to you again,” he said, and I wondered who the hell he was.

“Do we know each other?”

“There’s that sense of humour. I always liked that.”

Shit, I stared at him, and nothing came to mind. I’dno idea who this person was.

“Did the sedative make you a little slow?” he asked, and I saw a flash of pure anger in his eyes that I didn’t recall him.

“Yes!” I replied, grasping at the straw he offered.

“The instructions said too much might make you dopey. My name is Eugene Jones. If you remember, I was your very first client,” Eugene beamed.

Erm, I remembered a very different man as my first client.

“Gene,” I tried to say his name, but my tongue was thick in my head. However, Eugene smiled brightly.

“Yes! You called me that. You’re the only person allowed to.”

Fuck. I remained clueless about Eugene’s identity.

“Slow thinking,” I said, leaning on the pretence of too much of what he hit me with.

Eugene got to his feet and, to my surprise, turned a kettle on. None of this made sense.

“My boys,” I whispered, looking around and not seeing them. Anxiously, I tried to sit up straight but slumped back down. Hell, whatever Eugene had injected me with had lingering effects.

“They’re in my man cave enjoying themselves with some quiet time. They are unusually loud creatures, aren’t they?” Eugene replied.

“Alive?” I slurred, and Eugene spun again with that spike of anger.

“Of course they are. I’m not a monster. Not like what you saved me from,” he snapped, and then his expression wiped, and he looked civil and pleasant.

Holy fuck. What the hell was this?

“Kendara, I’d never hurt children. I’m different from her,” Eugene hissed and turned back to the kettle.

Gaining strength, I glanced around the room. It was decorated with wallpaper at least twenty years out of date and a brown carpet. I was sat at a mahogany dining table with chairs that matched, but again, it was at least thirty years old. Pictures of landscapes adorned the walls, with an old brass chandelier above the table.

The table, to my surprise, was set out for a three-person meal. In front of me was silverware, a placemat with a dining and a smaller plate. There was a cake stand with finger cakes on and another two stands with daintily cut sandwiches. A teapot, sugar bowl and creamer were sat between the settings. Three cups were sitting on matching saucers, and I realised this would have been somebody’s best china thirty years ago.

“My mother’s set. Isn’t it stunning?” Eugene said, picking up the teapot and running his hand over it before filling it with hot water.

“Beautiful. My boys? Can I see them?” I asked.