The Collector Book One: Mana Leak Read Online Free Page A

daughter’s veins and arteries, dissolving the beasties on contact. But in her mind’s eye, she also saw Katie’s body dissolve a little too.
    The effects of the chemo were more visible than the cancer. Katie’s hair, which had been long enough for her to sit on at one point, was gone; only feathery tufts remained. Her gums were so full of sores that she could barely talk during the rare times that she was awake.
    She wasn’t coping with the raging battle between the cancer and the chemo. She looked like a straw doll, limp and lifeless, not the vibrant daughter that Anne once knew.
    Frank lifted the bed sheet back enough to find Katie’s other hand and gripped it.
    “She’ll make it,” he said. “She’s a fighter.”
    Anne felt the tears coming again.
    “That’s just it, Frank.” She sniffed. “I don’t think she can fight any more.”

4.
    “Mum!”
    Her daughter’s call snapped her back to reality. Away from the hospital room that stank of disinfectant, Anne returned to the dim bathroom of their home on Penny Crescent, the cold tap still running.
    “Mummy!”
    Anne wiped her eyes.
    “W-what is it, dear?”
    “Mum! Dad’s home!”
    The words hit Anne like the blare of an alarm. She swept her hair back, wiped her face dry and sniffed the drip from her nose.
    “I’ll be right there, babe,” she called through the closed door. She looked into the mirror again. Her eyes were puffy and red.
    God help me if he thinks I’ve been crying – oh shit – Frank’s home, Frank’s home!
    She steadied herself in a long breath. Like her ability to weep in silence, the trick of stopping her tears had also been a harsh lesson over the years. She turned off the tap and, refusing to look into the mirror again, unlocked the bathroom door and stepped onto the landing.
    Betsy caused a din in the living room at the front of the house, a daily tradition. The dog always welcomed the master home with a series of excited barks and whimpers. Anne presumed the children stood with her, waving at their father through the large window.
    With one last readjustment of her hair and a sweep of her hands across her damp cheeks, she started towards the stairs.
    It’s Friday , she thought, everything will be fine. He’s finished for the weekend. I can go and finish making the food and-
    The front door opened and hit the wall behind it with a crash. Anne stopped at the head of the stairs.
    Oh no.
    Gripping the banister, she rushed down, slippers pattering on each step. As she reached halfway, her husband stepped over the threshold.
    He wore his long coat, despite the pleasant warmth of the day. His briefcase hung by his side, gripped in a hand that shook in small, random movements. Raising this quivering hand, he flung the case down in the hallway. The catch popped and sprang open, spilling pens and sheets of paper all over the carpet. He looked up at Anne, who still stood on the stairs in shock, and without a word, he stormed through the hallway and into the kitchen.
    Anne descended the remaining stairs and closed the front door. She examined the deep dent in the wallpaper.
    “Mummy?”
    Bronwyn emerged from the living room, eyes darting in her sockets. She bit her lip.
    “It’s okay, honey.” Anne swallowed. “Charlie?”
    He appeared in the doorway, holding Betsy by the collar. Her tongue, as always, hung out the side of her mouth.
    “Charlie, take Betsy and your sister upstairs…”
    “Can’t we go outside?” whined Bronwyn. “I want to play in the garden and so does Betsy.”
    “You can’t. The Dean twins are outside, and I’d prefer it if you went upstairs.”
    “But Mummy-”
    “Upstairs!”
    Both children flinched. Bronwyn’s chin trembled, and she stared up at her mother.
    “Charlie,” Anne said, quieter, “take her upstairs.”
    Charlie nodded and with a small tug of his sister’s golden hair, led the way.
    Hearing them step onto the landing, Anne sighed and ventured into the kitchen. She walked straight