Hush Darling (Villains of Kassel #1)

Prologue

BOYS AND MONSTERS

J ames disguised his fear as the police car drove them further away from the only place they had ever called home.

Rail thin and hungry, he watched the uniformed officer with a mixture of skepticism and frail trust. He’d seen too much evil in his thirteen years to hold any space for hope.

Now that their mother was out of the picture, he presumed they were among the hopeless.

The dilapidated city warehouses that lined the fringe of London’s lowest districts gave way to wide-open highways and foreign bridges he’d never crossed. Sitting beside James, Peter fidgeted, his slight body unable to see past the window as their grey, familiar world faded away.

James reached for his little brother’s small hand, offering silent support as they waited to see where they were taken next—two aimless ships left to float without a rudder or a sail in a rather dark night.

The fresh bruises on Peter’s arms tinged his fair skin a yellowish green. Fresh anger stabbed through James’ gut like a steel blade. He should have done something sooner. He should have protected Peter better. He had a duty to protect his brother that went beyond protecting himself.

James had welts, too, but, at the moment, he felt nothing beyond his fury toward the men who hurt Peter. That, and his worry over what would become of them now.

Turning away from the proof of abuse they survived, James glared out the window.

His dark eyes reflected in the glass like two fathomless holes leading them into the unknown future.

They could only move forward now because they were never going back there again.

Their mother was going away for something called neglect, and the men that hurt Peter, well, James could only hope they eventually got what they deserved.

The radio of the squad car chirped as a static voice squawked from the speakers. According to the faceless voice on the other end, they were heading to Saint Mercy’s Home for Orphaned Boys.

The officer driving the car had not been the one to rescue them. It was a female who found them. She smelled like roses, and her hair was soft like cotton. She told them they were safe. Then the house was swarming with men in uniforms, each wearing a copper badge and carrying a gun.

James had already forgotten the female agent’s face, but he held onto her promise that they would be safe.

She said there would be food and clothing and plenty of warm beds for him and Peter.

There was a gentleness about her, something the male cops lacked, something James and Peter knew little about but both innately craved.

Peter was too young to understand what was happening but not too old to sense the finality of the day’s events.

Even at four, he knew enough to fear the unknown.

He’d been hysterical when they pulled Mother away and put her in cuffs.

Too young to fully understand, he assumed the men in blue uniforms and copper badges were a threat, so he kicked and screamed when they loaded them into the back of the squad car.

James shut his eyes as the vision replayed. He’d wanted to kick and scream, too, but at thirteen, he was old enough to know that sort of behavior would change nothing. At least now, they would have regular meals, baths, and maybe even stories to help them sleep.

A soft sniffle caught his ear, and he glanced at Peter. His pale blond hair hadn’t been washed in weeks, and there was still blood crusted around his nose.

“Hey.” James reached across the sprawling bench seat and grabbed his little hand. “We’re gonna be okay.”

Peter wiped his nose on his threadbare sleeve. “Will Mother be able to find us?”

A cold fist tightened around James’ heart. Their mother was the forgetful sort. So forgetful, that she often needed reminding that she had two sons. “Mother’s going somewhere else.”

“Will we see her again?”

Peter couldn’t grasp that their mother had invited those men into the house, that she knew what was happening and did nothing to stop it. James didn’t know if that information mattered now. “I don’t know.”

Peter stretched his dirty neck to peek out the window at the trees rushing by. “Where are they taking us?”

“An orphanage.”

He looked up at him, dark circles rimming his big green eyes. “What’s an orphanage?”

“It’s a place where lost boys live.”

That was what they were—lost boys. Lost. James wished he had a compass for their future, but he only had his instincts.

“When we get there, try not to say too much. Just hold my hand and follow my lead.”

Peter nodded, but fear was plain to see on his elfin face. “What if they separate us?”

“I won’t let them.”

“But…”

“Peter,” he squeezed his hand. “They won’t separate us. I promise. It’s me and you—brothers forever. Understand?” When Peter nodded, James avowed, “Just keep hold of my hand.”

He nodded and sniffled. “What if the bad men come?”

“There are no bad men there, Peter. Just boys.”

The squad car slowed, and gravel crunched under the tires as they turned onto a long drive barricaded by tall, privet hedges and a towering iron gate.

The officer rolled down the window and pressed a button on a small box. “Sergeant Barrie here to drop off the Hook boys.”

A buzz sounded, and the gate slowly creaked open.

A giant stone fortress loomed like an impenetrable castle in the distance.

Lifeless stone and cold metal bars created baricades of colorless grey behind leafless trees over the bleak and dreary sky.

James tried to imagine how lovely it might look in the summers when the gardens were in bloom, but on this cold winter day, such an image was hard to conceive.

The car slowed, and Sergeant Barrie shut off the engine. “Here we are, boys.”

Once escorted inside the mammoth stone building, they were instructed to wait on two cold wooden chairs lined up against the wall of a long, silent corridor.

James’ heart beat like a slow, ticking clock keeping time, each steady thump echoing like a drop falling into whatever shallow water lined his empty stomach. Peter’s feet dangled as he anxiously craned his neck to see into the room where the officer had disappeared.

“Tragic, just tragic,” an aged female voice said. “Such innocent… Tarnished. It’s a shame how some suffer—and the one at such a young age.”

The voices grew nearer, and James sat up straight, ignoring the soreness of his spine and the way his skin pulled at the burns that had yet to fully heal. Placing a warning hand on Peter’s leg, he silently urged him to stop fidgeting.

“We should have no problem placing the younger brother. The older ones are a bit more challenging.”

James’s hand tightened around his brother’s as he focused on the whispered discussion about their future. He would not let them separate him from Peter.

“Parents often fear the older children have seen too many monstrosities. They worry how such past negative experiences might impact their future, especially if other children are already living in the home.”

“They’ve suffered a lot, Sister,” came the deep, caring voice of Sergeant Barrie. “It would be nice if they could stay together. Brothers need each other.”

“Of course.” Her tall, thick figure glided from the shadows of the doorway.

Cloaked in layers of black, her robes hung like shingles of armor, absorbing any sound of movement as she neared.

The only audible tell of her approach came from the heavy rosary beads hanging from her hip, clinking softly like clacking bones.

James sucked in a breath when she glanced over her shoulder and grinned at him.

Instead of a smile, he glimpsed a slow, deliberate baring of teeth, yellowed and sharp enough to tear through flesh.

She glided like a predator, patient and calm as if biding her time before breaking the illusion of safety.

“We will have them cleaned up and situated in no time. Prayer and a good night’s sleep is just what the angels ordered.”

Sergeant Barrie glanced back at the boys, his brow creasing with concern. “Perhaps dinner first.”

“Of course,” the nun nodded.

Her hair was hidden beneath a habit, making her dry, scaley skin all the more noticeable. It looked rigid and rough, like the hide of something that had lived in the dark far too long.

Her beady black eyes were chips of onyx and cold like stone. She took his and Peter’s measure quickly, contrasting his value against his younger brother’s as if they were a form of currency, and she was a swindler preparing to make a trade.

Didn’t Sergeant Barrie see the monster before him? James got the same sick feeling he often felt when his mother brought home dangerous friends.

The reptilian way she appraised him and Peter twisted his stomach in knots. Beneath the black folds of her thick, draped clothing, she could have hidden a hundred weapons. He was certain those gnarled hands that folded as if in prayer hid razor-sharp claws.

She wore no labels or epaulets, only the crucifixion of a dying man. To him, the pendant did not symbolize sacrifice or devotion, only a sign of torment and suffering.

Sergeant Barrie couldn’t leave them there. Her authority was apparent, but that did not make her just. James could sense her evil as if the air carried it heavily along the draft, this unrefined lust she concealed for power. She would command impeccable discipline and settle for nothing less.

James swallowed, wondering if he should stand or say something. Perhaps he should take Peter’s hand and run. How far would they get? Where would they go? How would they survive?

“We thank you for your time, Officer.”

“Sergeant,” Sergeant Barrie corrected.

“Sergeant.” As she reached out to shake his hand, James glimpsed something else hanging from her belt, tucked deep within the ripples of her black gown. It was thick and leathery, no wider than a ruler.