Dark Angels
The start of an Edinburgh-based thriller series starring rebellious young lawyer Brodie McLennan, investigating the case of a high-ranking lawyer found dead in mysterious circumstances.A celebrated Edinburgh lawyer is found murdered outside an infamous gay haunt and notorious dominatrix Kailash Coutts stands accused.Against her wishes, headstrong, unorthodox Brodie McClennan is appointed to defend Kailash under the watchful gaze of the 'Dark Angels', a violent street-gang led by the enigmatic Moses Tierney.As the case becomes ever more complex, Brodie receives a chilling photograph, establishing a link to a number of brutal murders and a suspected paedophile ring. It becomes apparent that a serial killer is haunting the city – and that powerful people are involved, intent on covering up past crimes.Brodie herself becomes a target – both for a depraved killer and for deadly forces in the highest of circles…A shocking, atmospheric thriller that combines a centuries-old conspiracy with heart-stopping terror for fans of Ian Rankin and Mo Hayder…
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GRACE MONROE
Dark Angels
This novel is entirely a work of fiction. The names, characters and incidents portrayed in it are the work of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or localities is entirely coincidental.
AVON
A division of HarperCollinsPublishers Ltd. 1 London Bridge Street London SE1 9GF
First published in Great Britain by HarperCollinsPublishers 2007
Copyright © Grace Monroe 2007
Grace Monroe asserts the moral right to be identified as the author of this work
Extract from Blood Lines © Grace Monroe 2007. This is taken from uncorrected material and does not necessarily reflect the finished book.
A catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library
All rights reserved under International and Pan-American Copyright Conventions. By payment of the required fees, you have been granted the non-exclusive, non-transferable right to access and read the text of this ebook on-screen. No part of this text may be reproduced, transmitted, down-loaded, decompiled, reverse engineered, or stored in or introduced into any information storage and retrieval system, in any form or by any means, whether electronic or mechanical, now known or hereinafter invented, without the express written permission of HarperCollins ebooks
HarperCollinsPublishers has made every reasonable effort to ensure that any picture content and written content in this ebook has been included or removed in accordance with the contractual and technological constraints in operation at the time of publication
Source ISBN: 9781847560346
Ebook Edition © 2009 ISBN: 9780007335619 Version: 2018-06-19
For my family
Maria xx
For Paul–I do appreciate you really.
Linda xx
Table of Contents
Edinburgh
The cotton sheets feel smooth and crisp between her fingers as she grips the covers. The knuckles on her hands are white and bloodless, the contrast stark. As she weakly reaches for the mask, sweat slowly trickles down from the inside of her armpit. She gets what she wants but the heady smell of rubber almost overwhelms her before the gas and air mercifully take effect.
‘The quicker the hell, the quicker the peace.’
The voice of the woman rasps the tired adage.
The girl will have to look elsewhere for comfort. Here, she will find only contempt. She looks around, as she has done many times in the many hours since she was brought to this place. The panelled walls are adorned with ancient smoke-damaged oil paintings, of thin lipped ancestors: no succour will be found there either.
The girl throws her head back against the plump, pillows, her black curls sticking to her damp forehead. Another wave of pain overwhelms her, pushing her further down into the abyss. She almost welcomes the pain: she has ignored the ache within her heart for so long that concrete physical agony serves to remind her that, despite everything, she is still alive.
The handcuff around her left wrist cuts deeply into her flesh. The skin is red and swollen from earlier attempts to escape. She no longer has the enthusiasm to plan her getaway. Reluctantly, she accepts she is securely chained to the antique brass bed frame. Her desire, her need to be free, has waned. She is sapped of strength, resigned to her fate.
Giving birth has that effect.
She gasps one word: ‘Water,’ adding ‘Please,’ as an afterthought.
‘Do you really believe that being polite is going to change my plans?’ The nurse expects an answer. None is forthcoming. There is a battle for life going on in the bed in front of her, and strength cannot be wasted on unnecessary words. ‘You must be even more stupid than I gave you credit for.’
The girl tries to wet her lips. Her pulse visibly pounds in her neck. Her mouth tastes like rusty iron filings. Her mind races from one thought to another–the taste of terror reminds her of the dilapidated railings near the school gate.
Frantically, her eyes search for water to cleanse her mouth. In every situation the girl looks for something to be grateful for, at this precise moment she is thankful that she cannot imagine what might happen next, appreciative that her mind has narrowed to the extent that all she can think of is water.
