Free Sentinel by Joshua Winning Page A

teenage boy with curly hair; and finally, lingering with significance, a rambling manor house loomed over a small village in the countryside.
    Everything went black.
     
    *
     
    Dr Snelling fell away from his slumped victim, gasping.
    “So that’s where she’s been hiding,” he whispered. He gave an unpleasant sniggering laugh and slipped the gauntlet from his hand, casting Richard a cursory glance.
    The man’s eyes had been burned bone white, his face a sickening shade of grey. He showed no signs of life save the slight rise and fall of his chest.
    “I promised you death,” Dr Snelling told the fallen man, “but I rather feel this is a greater reward for your services to the Dark Prophets.” He pottered into Patrick Walden’s bedroom, whistling a jaunty tune as he packed the metal contraption into his bag. With the case in hand, he stepped over Richard’s body.
    “Take care, old chap,” the doctor said. He descended the staircase, reaching the front door. But as he moved for the door handle–
    “Dr Snelling!”
    He stopped, hearing Lucy’s voice behind him. A sinister smile split his lips as he saw her hurrying down the hallway.
    “Dr Snelling,” she said again, “you’re leaving already? Won’t you stay for a cup of tea?”
    “Oh, I’m all done, my dear,” the doctor said cheerily, giving her the toothiest of grins.
    “That was quick.” Lucy cast a fleeting glance up the staircase.
    “Oh yes,” Dr Snelling said. “Everything is quite in order, I’m very pleased.”
    “Is Richard still up there with Patrick?” Lucy asked.
    “He is,” the doctor nodded. “Why don’t you take him the cup of tea you were making for me? I’m sorry I can’t stay longer. I really must be off now, there are many other patients to attend to.”
    “Of course.”
    Lucy hurried to open the door for him.
    “All the best,” he said, winking at her from the doorstep.
    “Goodbye doctor.”
    The tubby man lingered on the doorstep for a few minutes, his forehead scrunched up expectantly. Then came what he had been waiting for – a scream from the Walden’s landing.
    Beaming, the doctor turned and hopped down the garden path, whistling as he plodded down the street and was lost from sight.
     
    *
     
    All was dark. Nicholas lay on his back in bed watching the shadows playing across the ceiling. Twenty minutes ago he’d heard the floorboards in the landing creak as Tabatha made her way to bed, followed closely by the click of the bedroom door shutting. It had taken all of his willpower to remain in bed for this long – he knew that if Tabatha caught him wandering about the house at night there would be no end to her questioning.
    His mind was whirling. He’d always felt so close to his parents, and he’d always felt – quite lovingly – that they were rather boring individuals. His father worked for a small publishing company (quite what he did there Nicholas wasn’t sure), while his mother had supervised a local nursery. They had played their part in the world, and he had loved them despite their plainness. Yet now he had uncovered a secret chapter in their lives that he knew nothing about, and that for his entire life had been concealed behind a secret door.
    Deciding it was safe now, Nicholas pushed back his duvet and went to his door.
    Down the stairs he could see the spare room that Tabatha was currently occupying. It was quiet. The coast was as clear as it was ever going to be.
    He hurried down the stairs on tiptoe. He had perfected the art of roaming the house at night unheard, having done so for years when his parents were still alive. Stalking down the landing, he found that his parents’ door was still slightly open. Not wasting a second, he went inside, bending down to peer under the bed. In the darkness he could make out three distinct shapes – the objects he had left there.
    Moments later, the boy returned to his bedroom with the objects in his arms. He pushed his door to and jumped back into