From Dark Places Read Online Free Page A

son without a father… well, this will have to do—check. Three tablespoons of honey from a hive less than a year old—check.
    “A drop of blood from the hopeful mother. Oh, that’s me, and I’ll do that at the time—so, check. A tablespoon of salt, one ounce of yeast— check, check. Right then. Time to start.”
    They watched her measure the ingredients into a sturdy ceramic mixing bowl, its mottled glaze telling a story of a thousand cakes beaten into existence within it.
    “I like your recipe. Do you think she’ll get it right?” he asked. “She’s been thorough so far. Maybe this will be a good one.”
    She shrugged as the woman pricked her finger with a wince, shook the drop of blood into the bowl, then mixed them all together. “Maybe. They always get something wrong. Who knows?”
    He watched the woman, Pammy—he reminded himself, begin to knead the dough. He could feel the potential filling the room, crackling like static electricity. It always made him feel light headed but he persevered. He felt his beloved’s hand quiver in his and smiled at her. She was too fixated on the process to notice.
    Pammy leant into the dough, compressing it with her hands and pushing it away before folding it back on itself. She soon fell into a rhythm but it was hard work, harder than she thought. After quarter of an hour she’d built up a sweat and wanted to stop, but the recipe had been very specific. Sixty seven minutes…
    “You’re making her work for this baby, beloved,” he whispered and she nodded.
    “Why don’t you go and find us somewhere to celebrate?” she whispered back. “I’ll keep an eye on her.”
    He agreed readily. It had been a long time since he had managed to last through a Creation from start to finish. He got sucked into the meeting of forces, the swirling maelstrom of magic and mundanity. It was overwhelming. The image of his swirling coffee foam came to his mind as he wandered out of the house. True creation was like sucking light down into the darkness. The mundane plane was so very dark.
    He found himself back on the leafy street, saw a woman walking a dog, a car drive past. All so normal. No-one knew the next world-shaker was being made in the house behind him. The secret made him smile.
    He strolled under the avenue of trees, looking for the perfect place to rest with his love once their work came to an end. She was so thorough. She always rode out those strange feelings made by the creation, letting him relax. And these modern times were so much more comfortable. Twenty-first century Winchester was a world away from the filth of Mongolia and Palestine, and the ancient world in general.
    Then it struck him. He was getting lazy. Just like these modern times of convenience and comfort, he took the easiest route through something he once took so much pride in. They’d spent too long here, it was evident. As soon as this Creation was over, he’d insist they spend some time somewhere more challenging. Africa perhaps, or Bangladesh. Somewhere harsh.
    He returned to the house, hurried down the hallway to the kitchen, expecting to see his beloved standing where he’d left her. It hadn’t even entered his mind she could be doing anything else, let alone pouring something into the dough as the poor woman stared at the clock, willing the minutes to tick by.
    “What are you doing?” his voice boomed and the culprit leapt away from the woman. “What did you add?”
    “Nothing critical,” she said back hurriedly, watching his form change with his emotions.
    “Rule breaker!” He pointed a finger at her, a talon thrusting through the flesh. “How dare you! How dare you interfere once the Creation has begun!”
    She shrank away from him. His wrath filled the small kitchen as the woman continued to knead—on and on—push, stretch, fold over.
    “Darling one, please don’t be angry, I just wanted to make this mortal even more special.”
    He raised himself up to his full height and she