13, An Unlucky Number (FULL LENGTH!!!)

My book 13, An Unlucky Number is quite a long novel about a case worker named Angela. Her life is scarred by the need for revenge of a man named Steelo and his accomplice Skull. Together they try to settle a century old score, striking at Angela in any way they can. Victims piling up, Angela tries to run but whether Steelo and Skull succeed or fail at their path of destruction, 13 will turn out to be Angela's unlucky number.


19. Putting Pen To Paper

Meanwhile, at the lair, Steelo prepared for another drawing. The guards waited anxiously as he carefully drew the outline of what looked like a person. Without rushing, which bewildered the guards beyond belief, he continued to draw, but this time pressing harder. He then began to add small details on to the picture. Curious and intently waiting for their boss to finish, the guards stepped closer with anticipation. Kyle returned from the corridor, his face now serious as he went back to stand at his station. He had a high status here, and so was chosen for tasks numerously more than the others. He was first in command of the guards. His second in command, Erik Jones, was going to be replaced soon. Erik had been great at shooting, his aim almost perfect. He could also sense well in the dark, knowing exactly where their target was even in the dead of night. It was almost as if his orange-gold eyes were infrared, like the kind of cameras that cops used at night in helicopters. Kyle began to join the other guards, stepping slowly forward to get a quick view of the sheet of paper.

As their boss sat back after finishing his new drawing, the guards shifted towards the table to see what he had drawn, only for him to lean back forward and cover the picture. Steelo snatched up the paper, got up from his seat and then sauntered off to his office. He slammed the door hard as he went. The main room fell silent, looks of disbelief plastered on their faces. It was so quiet you could have heard a pin drop. Kyle gave a short clearing of his throat and all the guards turned to eye him. "Well? Back to stations with you," he commanded. The guards all retreated to their stations whilst Kyle urged himself closer to his boss's office, unsure of what to do. He knocked lightly on the metal door, starting to briefly to regret his decision. A sharp voice pierced through the door; "Who is it?" Kyle gulped back his fear and after a few moments of hesitation opened the office door. "It's only me boss, Fleetwood. Is something.. wrong sir? The guards were quite shocked and I was.. well.. quite concerned at your reaction. Can I be of service?," Kyle spoke strongly, his voice showing none of his earlier panic. 

Steelo sat, looking down at the piece of paper that he had on the desk. He looked up at Kyle, his eyes clouded with both sorrow and regret. "Thank you for your concern, Fleetwood, but I am perfectly all right. You can come in if you wish, I wouldn't mind some company." A strange feeling arose from the bottom of Kyle's chest. He had never seen Steelo like this. Never. For some reason, he preferred this more.. sensitive side to him. He walked to stand next to Steelo's desk. His mossy green eyes came to the piece of paper. Steelo had drawn a woman. She was amazingly beautiful. Like Angela, Kyle thought deeply in his mind, but that doesn't matter now.. Steelo had coloured her in during the time Kyle had hesitated. The young woman had wavy brown hair that rested on her shoulder's. She wore a long red dress with a silver belt round the waist. Dangling from her wrist were a group of silver bracelets and Kyle could almost hear them clanging together with a jingle in his ears. The lady also wore turquoise makeup, slightly clashing with her bright green eyes. She really was something special. She wore a bright blue cardigan jacket over her dress. A silver chain lay around her neck and, hanging at the bottom, was a golden heart charm. This woman, Kyle guessed, was the reason for Steelo's sudden outburst. Things were starting to become clear.

Both of them now observing the piece of paper before them, Steelo and Kyle were silent and stayed that way for some time. "Why isn't it working?," Kyle interrupted the silence, "I mean, shouldn't it work like the coins? You did use the right pen, didn't you boss?" Steelo looked up from the woman to Kyle. "Yes. I did use the right pen.." he spoke, his voice filled with pain and disappointment, "I.. I wasn't actually sure whether it would work. But I'd hoped.. and it seems I can never get her back. I.. I didn't really get to say goodbye. Her name was Anya. Your probably wondering who she was. Fleetwood, this was my wife." Kyle glanced back down solemnly at the drawing. "I'm.. I'm sorry boss," he stammered quietly, giving Steelo a sympathetic gaze. "So am I Fleetwood. So am I. It all happened so quickly. My wife was pregnant.. and I was to be a father. But it wasn't meant to be. My wife died in labor. She died probably from blood loss, but I was never actually told. I could have saved her.. but one man got in the way. That was when I swore for revenge. I swore revenge on the whole family which, sadly for Miss Price, includes her. She's the daughter of that good for nothing demon. He took away my wife and my child.. my daughter. I lost everything, everything I held dear. And now I get pleasure from destroying the happiness of others. It's a draining, but simple life. I'm just not sure it makes me happy. But anyway, seen as she's dead I wasn't sure if it would work.. but it was worth a try." Kyle sighed lightly, then turned to Steelo. The man was obviously a very hurt guy, his head hung low. "I'm very sorry about Anya, and your daughter, but Angela.. she.. does she really have to pay for her father's mistakes? You don't even know her.." Steelo turned a sharp glare onto Kyle. "I know it's in her blood! And I will not stop until I get all the revenge I need. You thought I'd finished, didn't you? Well, I'm far from finished with her. Believe me."

Finally away from Steelo and Skull and having escaped their clutches for a week, Angela and Jamie sat down to get their bearings. It was getting late. The sun was starting to fall from it's high throne above the clouds and together they watched as the sky outside got darker with each passing minute. They were waiting patiently for their order to arrive, sitting in a newly decorated cafe. It had been decorated with an obvious theme of red, surrounding the occupants with subtle variations of scarlet. The colour red, somehow, made Angela more hungry than she realized was possible. Through the window street lights glistened on the roads, their glow bright against the rising darkness. "At least this is all over now. Steelo wouldn't have let us go if he needed us any longer," Angela comforted Jamie, his head resting upon her in exhaustion, "It's been a long few weeks for us both. Thank God we escaped.." 

Angela looked down at her lap where young Ashley lay, fiddling with the blanket she was wrapped in. Dennis sat purring in Jamie's arms and giving soft mews every once in a while. Things had looked brighter for all of them, but they had also been worse. A lot worse. Angela began to think back. She thought of Graham and Celene, Adam, James and Ashley and then of Jamie. Things can be back to normal, Angela said to herself, and we can be a family again. When Jamie and Angela left the cafe fog created a sea of mists through the streets and the roads were silent. The vapor seemed to converge with the glow from the street lamps, the strange mix gathered on the frontier of the boulevard. The fog added to the dimness of the city, it's lack of colour stretching far into the distance. The four of them had journeyed far after their escapade. Somewhere beyond each of their losses hung the ghost of a good mood. All of them had lost at least someone. Angela had lost Graham, Celene and Adam. Jamie had lost his parents and sister. Ashley had lost her parents too and even Dennis had lost his owner. But together they were strong. 

As the four travelers wondered the boulevards the sound of small, light footsteps echoed around them and an undersized dark tortoiseshell she-cat padded out from behind a street corner to skitter beside Angela and Jamie, weaving between their legs. The fragile she-cat meowed for attention, her face brushing against their clothing. Angela bent down to stroke the cat with her free hand, but it launched into her arm and she ended up holding her instead. The cat had no collar or identity, but there was no telling whether she was micro-chipped or not. After the new arrival Angela and Jamie headed to an enclosed part of the city where a kind room lender had let them stay for the past few nights. Dennis sniffed intently at the new cat, his green eyes wide and inquisitive, while the younger she-cat studied a sleeping Ashley. Ashley was around one and a half years old now, nearly two. She lay, curled up, in her cream blanket as if the world hadn't changed, in her eyes, at all.


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