Destroying Angel Read Online Free Page A

hungry and that I had not yet slept properly, a blessed apparition appeared fifty yards away.
    A small estate cottage, known as a ‘bothy’ in Scotland.
    Wolf pointed to the smoke rising from the chimney. ‘This is where I live. There is food and a warm fire.’
    His hand on Thane’s shoulder, we covered the short distance rapidly. Opening the door he ushered me inside, set down the lantern and attended to the fire. Then, placing two bowls on the table, he said: ‘Hot soup, this will soon warm you. And I have meat for Thane.’
    The soup was delicious. It tasted of herbs and I decided I must have the recipe.
    Watching with satisfaction as I tackled a second helping, heleant back in his chair and smiled. ‘It has been a long time, Mrs McQuinn.’
    ‘Indeed it has. And please call me Rose.’
    ‘That will be my pleasure.’ He grinned, briefly. ‘There are moments in life, like my brief time in Edinburgh, that will always remain with me.’
    I was surprised that he hadn’t enquired what I was doing in the middle of nowhere. ‘You didn’t seem surprised to see me.’
    ‘No. I was expecting you again – sometime. I knew we should meet again.’ And before I could think of a suitable reply, he asked, ‘What brings you to Staines?’
    ‘A brief visit.’ I wasn’t prepared to give my reasons and added: ‘What on earth are you doing in Northumberland? As I recall, you said in Edinburgh that you were going in search of your roots – your Scottish grandmother.’
    ‘That is exactly what I did. And I found her – not in Scotland, but here in Staines.’
    ‘Really!’
    ‘She was the young wife of Hubert’s grandfather, made wealthy by the coal on his land. A difficult man by all accounts, and as Miranda had a spirit of adventure, she became bored with rural life and went on a fashionable safari with rich friends to hunt buffalo in Arizona. However, they became the hunted instead. All were slain but the lovely Miranda, who was taken captive and kept alive by the chief. She had a child by him and never returned to Staines.’
    ‘So you are distant cousins. What an extraordinary coincidence.’
    And as I said the words, I recalled my practical father’s scorn of coincidences.
    ‘Always be suspicious of coincidences,’ was his maxim.
    For Pappa, everything had to have a purpose, and that was the philosophy in which I had been raised. There was another question looming:
    ‘How did you meet Mr Staines?’
    He shrugged. ‘By chance, in London. The circus was closing and I was desperately in need of funds. What little I had would not last very long if I wished to return to Scotland. Then, at the end of the last show, Hubert Staines had been taking photographs and said he was impressed by the way I handled animals – I had taken over the lion taming act.’
    With an apologetic grin, he added: ‘Leo the Man-eater and I were great friends. He was very old and lacked teeth. We understood each other. He was a good actor and when asked to do so he could look impressively fierce, with his tail lashing furiously. He had a roar that shook the rafters and had small children screaming in terror when it looked as if he might leap out of the cage.’
    And smiling at the memory, he shook his head. ‘But he was more akin to a good dog than a king of the jungle.’ Then, regarding my puzzled expression, he laughed. ‘I can see you are wondering why a rich man like Mr Staines wanted a lion tamer. Is that not so?’
    It was indeed, and he went on: ‘His family had acquired a collection of animals and birds from their days as big-game hunters. Most of their trophies are now stuffed in menacing attitudes, on exhibition in the gun room. Staines followed the family tradition and learnt that art, said it was useful for a photographer. But he longed to do something that had never been done before.’
    Pausing, he shook his head and gave me a quizzical smile.
    ‘A man who likes a challenge. You will no doubt have recognised his