Man (Seven Forbidden Arts Book 9) Read online

  Compassion welled up in her chest. Images of Adam’s room when he’d been this age lanced painfully into her memory. His skateboard collection had hung from hooks on the wall and a tropical aquarium had taken up the corner.

  On impulse, she said, “Let me show you another room.”

  When she got up, the boy followed without arguing. She led him to the room where she kept Adam’s keepsakes. There were no disturbing paintings on the walls, and the double doors exited onto a balcony. She opened them to let in the breeze. The boy walked to the shelf where Adam’s trophies and cricket bat were displayed.

  “That belonged to my son,” she explained.

  The boy stared at the bat.

  “Have you ever played cricket?” she asked.

  “No.”

  She wanted to bite her tongue. What a stupid thing to ask. She doubted his life had been fun and games.

  “Have you watched a game?” she asked quickly to make up for the blunder.

  He tore his gaze away from the bat to look at her. “I know how the game works.”

  “How about you take this room?”

  “If that’s what you want.”

  “We can redecorate it to your taste, if you like.”

  “The decoration doesn’t really faze me.”

  “All right.” Her effort to put him at ease wasn’t working. Food always did the trick. “Are you hungry?”

  “Yes, Mother.”

  She cringed at the title. “You don’t have to call me Mother. It sounds awfully formal.”

  “What would you like me to call you?”

  “How about Olivia?”

  “If that’s what you prefer, Olivia.”

  “Come on.” She walked to the door. “It’s still a long time to lunch. What would you like for breakfast?”

  “I’m being fed on a high-protein, low-carbohydrate diet. Poached eggs and fruit, if you have. Steamed fish or chicken with stir-fried vegetables will do for lunch.”

  “Mm. How about we bend the rules a bit and make that an omelet and throw in some bacon and pancakes?”

  “If you wish.”

  She offered him a smile. “Want to help?”

  “If that’s required.”

  “It’s not required, but you’re welcome to keep me company.”

  “I presume we’re going to the kitchen as that’s where the cooking will take place.”

  “Yes.” Where had the poor child been kept? “Let’s get to work.”

  In the kitchen, she made him sit at the island counter while she prepared the food. All the while, he watched her quietly. The fact that he was a carbon copy of Godfrey was disconcerting. The name didn’t help.

  While whisking the eggs for the omelet, she said, “Do you prefer to be called Godfrey or Junior?”

  “I don’t have a preference. Both are new. In the lab, I was called Number Five.”

  She almost dropped the whisk. There had been four others before him? Where were they? Were they failed experiments? Did they live in a windowless lab?

  She cleared her throat. “How many of you are there?”

  He frowned. “Just me.”

  “If you’re Number Five, what happened to the four before you?” she asked carefully.

  “I don’t know. It’s always been just me.”

  “You know what? You don’t have to be called Godfrey or Junior. Why don’t you choose a name you like?”

  His eyes lit up. “You mean any name?”

  “Yes. Whatever pleases you.”

  “Can I think about it?”

  “Of course.” She poured the egg mixture into the pan. “Take as long as you like. Choosing a name is important business.”

  “Yes, very important, indeed.”

  Knowing Cain had eyes trained on the house, she pulled the shutters and served the breakfast inside. While the boy ate, she studied him. He held his knife and fork perfectly, his table manners impeccable. The way he conversed was like his comportment and build––too adult for his age. The conditions under which he’d lived up to now sounded clinical and cold. Her heart contracted painfully wondering who’d tucked him in at night. Had someone taken the time to read him a story or lull him when he’d cried? Already, feelings for the strange, adult-like boy stirred in her chest.

  After cleaning the kitchen, Olivia left the boy to explore the house while she took a shower and changed. She’d given him strict instructions not to go outside and to stay away from the windows, explaining that it wasn’t safe. Would Cain pose a threat to the boy? If he knew the child was Godfrey’s clone, would he hunt him like he hunted Godfrey? Surely, Cain would understand that the child isn’t Godfrey. He might look like him, but it didn’t mean he’d act like him. She could hide him, but where? The only suitable place was the orphanage she donated money to, but she’d hate to send the child away when his life had already been difficult. There was much to decide concerning the child’s future and wellbeing. What was Godfrey’s plan for his clone? What would become of the poor boy when he reached adulthood? She’d do everything in her power to protect the innocent life Godfrey had selfishly created in his own image.

  With that resolution, she went in search of the child and found him in the study, poring over the books.

  “I meant to ask,” she said, “how does your schooling work?”

  “I do home schooling.”

  She could do that. “What about hobbies? Do you have any interests?”

  “I like books.”

  “You can take anything you want from the library. We can set up an account for you to read books on a tablet. That way, you can order anything we don’t have here.”

  He trailed his fingers over the spine of a book. “Thank you.”

  “You’re welcome. Until I’ve figured out how this is going to work,” she motioned between them, “we’re just going to play it by ear. We’ll work it out as we go along.”

  He looked back at her and smiled.

  “If you need anything,” she continued, “don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “I won’t.”

  “I’m going to look into some home schooling programs and then I have to work a bit. Will you be able to keep yourself busy?”

  “Absolutely.”

  “I’m in the lounge if you need me.”

  She sat down on the sofa and opened her laptop. After reading several home schooling online sites, she shut down the computer and went to her studio. If she could only get this one painting right, maybe Godfrey would keep his word and set her free. Until this morning, freedom had seemed within reach. If Cain defeated Godfrey, he’d break the invisible chains that made her Godfrey’s prisoner. No more families had to die. No more children had to suffer cloning experiments. The world would be a safer place. But everything was different, now. There was a child to consider. Godfrey wanted her to help him kill Cain. If she didn’t do as he’d asked, would he make the child pay? That would be in character for Godfrey. It was exactly the kind of thing he’d do. If he’d been willing to have his own daughter murdered, how much worse would he do to his clone? To a man like Godfrey, a clone was more replaceable than a love child.

  With a sigh, she swept the questions and thoughts aside and set out to finish the portrait of the man she hated most in the world. She pulled on the paint-stained overcoat from the hook behind the door and lifted the sheet from her work in progress. Minutes rolled into an hour and more, but her mind wasn’t on the work. It was with the boy who was somewhere in the house.

  Focus, Olivia.

  No matter how hard she concentrated on the task, she couldn’t get it right. She couldn’t paint goodness into something she perceived as evil. Even if she repainted the eyes a hundred times, they’d never come out like the first time, the time before she knew the monster inside the man. Wiping a hand over her brow, she let out a tired breath and rolled her aching shoulders. The sound of shattering glass made her jump. She uttered a cry and twirled around to see the boy standing in the middle of the floor, her paintbrush
es scattered over the tiles and the jar that used to hold them lying in pieces.

  “Don’t move.” She jumped to her feet. “I don’t want you to cut yourself. I’ll get a broom.”

  Walking carefully around the sharp shards, she got a broom from the kitchen and swept up the mess. After carefully rolling the glass in newspaper, she dumped it in the trashcan.

  “You look pale,” the boy said. “Are you angry about your jar?”

  “You just gave me a fright.”

  “I didn’t mean to, but you were sitting there doing nothing.” He came closer and squinted at the painting on the easel.

  An unwelcome feeling took root in her heart. She didn’t want him to see all the failed paintings of his father––if he considered Godfrey to be his father––that rested against the walls. Explaining it would be too difficult. Thank God they were covered.

  “I was concentrating.” She picked up the brushes. “Maybe this is a good time to lay down a rule. When a door is closed, you always have to knock before entering.”

  “What are the other rules?”

  “That’s it for now. As I said, we’ll figure out the rest as we go.”

  His gaze returned to the painting. He studied it with an absent expression. “Can I stay and watch you work?”

  “I don’t work well with an audience, but I tell you what, give me another couple of minutes to clean up in here and we can do something together.”

  “Such as?”

  “Do you like board games?”

  “No.”

  “Cards?”

  “No.”

  “What do you enjoy?”

  “Will you read to me?”

  That fluttering feeling from earlier contracted her heart again. “Sure. Go pick a book. I’ll be right there.”

  He didn’t move. He kept on staring at the painting. “It looks a lot like him. Why do you keep on changing the eyes?”

  “How do you know I’m changing the eyes?”

  He pointed at the canvas. “Everywhere else the paint is dry, except for the white you painted over the eyes.” He glanced at the tubes. “You’re using oil, which takes a long time to dry. It means you’ve painted the portrait a while ago, judging by the detail maybe four months.”

  Mouth agape, she stared at him. “You’re very perceptive.”

  “Why aren’t you happy with it?”

  “I’m…” She cleaned the brush with a cloth. “It’s not what it should be, yet.”

  He tilted his head. “It’s Father. What else is it supposed to be?”

  Taking the opportunity, she crouched down in front of him and asked, “Is he a good father to you?”

  “Yes. He’s all I have.”

  “Have you ever been separated from him?”

  “This is the first time.”

  “Do you miss him?”

  “Very much.”

  She bit her lip. “I’m sorry if this is hard on you.”

  “He’s doing it in my best interests.”

  “Why did he bring you here?”

  “For you to finish that painting. Maybe he was hoping you’d find what you’re looking for in my eyes.”

  Not knowing what to say, she straightened, took his hand, and led him to the door. “There’s homemade lemonade in the fridge. Why don’t you pour us each a glass? I’ll find you upstairs.”

  With the door firmly closed behind him, she covered the absent eyes of the painting that, even in their ghostlike hollowness, seemed to follow her around the room, and tidied the studio. When everything was in its place, she washed up and found the boy in the study on the sofa. Two glasses of lemonade stood on the coffee table. He held out a book to her. Taking the seat next to him, she took the book and glanced at the cover.

  “Macbeth?” she asked with surprise. “Isn’t this too somber for your age?”

  “I love tragedies.”

  He was such a strange kid. “All right, then.”

  As she started reading, he lay down with his head resting on her lap. Every time she tore her eyes away from the text, she caught him staring at her with the same emotionless expression. It was hard to tell what was going on in his mind. They were halfway into the second chapter when the alarm beeped. She went rigid. If it was Cain…

  A moment later, Godfrey appeared in the doorframe.

  “There you are.” His gaze moved between her and the child. “Junior, go to your room. I have something to discuss with your mother in private.”

  The boy got up and left. When he was gone, Godfrey took the chair opposite the sofa.

  He tipped his fingers together and gave her a satisfied smile. “The two of you are getting on well.”

  Setting the book aside, she moved to the edge of the seat. “What are your plans for him?”

  “My plans are not your concern.”

  “What about schooling?”

  “He knows everything he needs to know.”

  “You can’t be serious. He needs to further his education. What about friends? He’s a young child with needs. Children need stimulation and security. I’m happy to do home schooling, but––”

  “I didn’t come here to talk about Junior.” He leaned back, flicking his jacket aside. “I came to finish our discussion from yesterday.”

  “What discussion?”

  “About helping me to kill the man who murdered our children.”

  Anger coiled around her insides, squeezing the air from her lungs. It took everything she had not to throw Cain’s accusations in his face. The lying bastard. How could he sit there and look her in the eyes while spitting out his untruths? She should find an excuse to go to the kitchen and dial Cain, laying the enemy he wanted at his feet, but not with the child in the house. Junior had said himself he loved his father. The boy didn’t deserve to witness a killing.

  “Olivia?” Godfrey waved a hand in front of her face. “Are you pretending to be deaf?”

  “Please,” she jumped up, “don’t talk about such things with the child in the house.”

  He snorted. “He’s a clone, not a child.”

  “He’s eleven years old, for God’s sake. That makes him a child like every other child, no matter how you conceived him.”

  “That’s what I love about you.” He got to his feet, regarding her from across the coffee table. “You’re so passionate when you care.”

  Knowing where he was going with his line of talk, she turned away quickly. It’s been a long time since she’d cared for her husband.

  “As I said,” he continued, “I want to bring Cain Jones to justice, and you’re going to help me.”

  “How am I supposed to do that?”

  “I’ve discovered a valuable piece of information. He bought one of your paintings.”

  Damn. Damn Cain. How could he have been so careless, thinking Godfrey would never know?

  She twirled back to face him. “And?”

  “I know how he thinks.” He rounded the table slowly. “He’s going to try and get to me through you.” Reaching out, he cupped her cheek. “He’s gathering ammunition, finding out everything he can about you.”

  It took every shred of willpower she possessed not to pull away. “What are you getting at?”

  “You’re going to seduce him, and when he’s at his weakest, I’ll move in for the kill.”

  This time, it was impossible to stay still. She stepped back, escaping his touch. “Are you asking me to whore for you?”

  He snickered. “Don’t make such a fuss. It’s not as if you’re not already doing it.”

  The blood drained from her body. Her knees turned weak. “What are you saying?”

  He took a photo from his pocket and threw it on the table. “Did you honestly think I didn’t know?”

  Staring down at the picture, she froze in horror. It was image of her in bed with Cain kneeling between her knees.

  “You let it happen,” Olivia said with a gasp. “You knew he was coming for me and you didn’t warn me. How did he find me? Tell me
!”

  Godfrey only stared at her, a sickening smile playing on his lips.

  “You bastard,” she said, shivering. “You told him.”

  “I may have paid an informant to drop a hint. All that was left to do, was tell his chiromancist that I was heading to you. I couldn’t make it too easy. I had to let Cain believe he found you all by himself.”

  “You manipulating son of a bitch.”

  “I’m a strategist, Olivia.”

  She retreated to the far side of the room. “I won’t do it! Do you hear me?”

  “There’s nothing left to do, my darling. You’ve already done it. Cain can’t stay away, even if he wants to. You have him at your feet. Just carry on with what you’re doing. When he comes next, I’ll be waiting.”

  “I hate you,” she said, biting back tears of anger and fear.

  “No surprises there.” He walked to the door and stopped in the frame. “You can’t escape your destiny. You’re meant to be with me. If I can’t have you, no one else will.”

  “Godfrey!” She rushed to him, grabbing his arm. “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going out. I’ll be back tonight.”

  “You––you’re not going to kill another family?”

  “Why would I? You didn’t run. You did exactly what I’d hoped you would.”

  “Are you going to kill me?”

  “Are you going to betray me?”

  She stared up at him, her heart beating in her throat.

  His look was calculating. “In that’s your answer.”

  Loosening her fingers, he freed his arm from her grip and disappeared down the hallway.

  The minute the front door slammed, she sagged against a chair back. Just as Cain was hoping to use her to catch her husband, Godfrey had used her to set a trap for Cain, but Godfrey was a step ahead of Cain. He had too many bargaining chips in his pocket to ensure her cooperation––murdering families, her life, her freedom, and now the boy. He’d known she’d care for the child. There was only one thing she could do. The last thing Godfrey expected. She was going to stand up to her husband. This may be Cain’s war, but it was her fight. Godfrey had taken her son and life away from her. She wasn’t going to allow him to take Cain. She had to warn Cain to stay away from the house.

  Rushing to the kitchen, she jerked open the drawer to extract the phone, and froze. The phone wasn’t there.