Malevolent (The Puzzle Box Series Book 1) Read Online Free Page B
Author: K.M. Carroll
head bowed for a minute. Then he met my eyes. "I spoke to Malachi Seren. He confirmed that Robert is his brother. Malachi also an ex-convict."
Malevolent.
"What, did he murder somebody?"
"He didn't say. But he assured me that he'll be on his best behavior from now on. I want you to stay away from him, all right?"
"Okay, Dad." Those Freddy Krueger gloves flashed through my memory. "I feel too crummy to go out, anyway."
I showed Dad the puzzle box, and we griped about Robert for a few minutes. He advised me to cut it off now, or sooner, if possible. Then Dad left, and I stared out the window.
Mal was an ex-con. Now he raised bees and looked like a vampire. I mused on our meeting, and his fight with Robert. I'm always analyzing the feeling people give me--they say you can trust your intuition about first impressions. Robert had always exasperated me at some level. Something about him felt fake.
But Mal had felt ... honest. Lonely. Hidden. If he was dangerous, he had buried it.
Yet Mal was the one who had gone to prison, and who had attacked Robert. It didn't make sense.
As the light was fading, I found the next trigger for the puzzle box. A panel pushed in and slid up, freeing the slip of paper. It was old and yellowed, with a dab of brown glue on the back.
Written in flowing script was the message, "Property of Malachi Seren. If found, please return to the following address," with an address in Pennsylvania.
Wait. Robert had given me Mal's puzzle box? So it must not have an engagement ring inside. Probably money, or papers, or whatever people stashed inside puzzle boxes.
I read the paper over and over, and tried to reason things out. Mal was dangerous. Stay away. But Robert must have stolen this and given it to me, for whatever reason. If they were brothers, was this something they'd had as kids? Or had Robert stolen it today?
I ran a finger along a wavy silver line. Mal would probably want this back. But how could I explain how I had it? What if he thought I'd stolen it?
Girl found murdered in orchard by ex-convict.
I shivered, and envisioned those clawed gloves flashing at my face. That'd save me the trouble of breaking up with Robert, all right.
I slipped the puzzle box under my bed. It was getting dark, and I wasn't leaving the house tonight. Maybe tomorrow I'd give it to Dad to return to Mal. Easy solution.
But what if he went after Dad instead?
Mal
After my ill-timed confrontation with my brother, I took a walk around Blossom Ranch.
It was a mixed farm, with acres of almond trees in rows, blueberries like orderly shrubbery, a strawberry field under black plastic, and other crops that had not yet emerged from winter stasis. Many corners had been planted in wild flowers, now only bright green leaves quivering with rabbits.
While difficult for a smaller, mixed farm to survive financially, its existence supported the continued life of native pollinators, such as butterflies and moths. My bees would thrive here.
As I walked back to converse with my bees, a pain shot through my insides. I fell to my hands and knees, and clutched my chest, expecting a bullet wound, but there was nothing. A heart attack?
No. Death had touched my soul.
Blackness swirled into my mind--thoughts of death, anguish and grief. And hot, blind hatred. So much hatred. The tide caught me unprepared, and I struggled to regain my mental balance. I thought I had conquered this years ago--why was it happening now?
The realization struck me like a club to the skull. An enemy had touched the puzzle box.
Rage flooded me, complementing the hate. I leaped to my feet and ran like a bolt of lightning across three fields and the almond orchards.
The beehives awaited me like a small city of uniform white buildings, and my own stood among them, decorated with gaudy colors. Among them was my concealed trunk.
The lid was closed, but as I bent over it, Robert's stench struck me in the face. I opened it, but I already knew what I
Malevolent.
"What, did he murder somebody?"
"He didn't say. But he assured me that he'll be on his best behavior from now on. I want you to stay away from him, all right?"
"Okay, Dad." Those Freddy Krueger gloves flashed through my memory. "I feel too crummy to go out, anyway."
I showed Dad the puzzle box, and we griped about Robert for a few minutes. He advised me to cut it off now, or sooner, if possible. Then Dad left, and I stared out the window.
Mal was an ex-con. Now he raised bees and looked like a vampire. I mused on our meeting, and his fight with Robert. I'm always analyzing the feeling people give me--they say you can trust your intuition about first impressions. Robert had always exasperated me at some level. Something about him felt fake.
But Mal had felt ... honest. Lonely. Hidden. If he was dangerous, he had buried it.
Yet Mal was the one who had gone to prison, and who had attacked Robert. It didn't make sense.
As the light was fading, I found the next trigger for the puzzle box. A panel pushed in and slid up, freeing the slip of paper. It was old and yellowed, with a dab of brown glue on the back.
Written in flowing script was the message, "Property of Malachi Seren. If found, please return to the following address," with an address in Pennsylvania.
Wait. Robert had given me Mal's puzzle box? So it must not have an engagement ring inside. Probably money, or papers, or whatever people stashed inside puzzle boxes.
I read the paper over and over, and tried to reason things out. Mal was dangerous. Stay away. But Robert must have stolen this and given it to me, for whatever reason. If they were brothers, was this something they'd had as kids? Or had Robert stolen it today?
I ran a finger along a wavy silver line. Mal would probably want this back. But how could I explain how I had it? What if he thought I'd stolen it?
Girl found murdered in orchard by ex-convict.
I shivered, and envisioned those clawed gloves flashing at my face. That'd save me the trouble of breaking up with Robert, all right.
I slipped the puzzle box under my bed. It was getting dark, and I wasn't leaving the house tonight. Maybe tomorrow I'd give it to Dad to return to Mal. Easy solution.
But what if he went after Dad instead?
Mal
After my ill-timed confrontation with my brother, I took a walk around Blossom Ranch.
It was a mixed farm, with acres of almond trees in rows, blueberries like orderly shrubbery, a strawberry field under black plastic, and other crops that had not yet emerged from winter stasis. Many corners had been planted in wild flowers, now only bright green leaves quivering with rabbits.
While difficult for a smaller, mixed farm to survive financially, its existence supported the continued life of native pollinators, such as butterflies and moths. My bees would thrive here.
As I walked back to converse with my bees, a pain shot through my insides. I fell to my hands and knees, and clutched my chest, expecting a bullet wound, but there was nothing. A heart attack?
No. Death had touched my soul.
Blackness swirled into my mind--thoughts of death, anguish and grief. And hot, blind hatred. So much hatred. The tide caught me unprepared, and I struggled to regain my mental balance. I thought I had conquered this years ago--why was it happening now?
The realization struck me like a club to the skull. An enemy had touched the puzzle box.
Rage flooded me, complementing the hate. I leaped to my feet and ran like a bolt of lightning across three fields and the almond orchards.
The beehives awaited me like a small city of uniform white buildings, and my own stood among them, decorated with gaudy colors. Among them was my concealed trunk.
The lid was closed, but as I bent over it, Robert's stench struck me in the face. I opened it, but I already knew what I
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