Broken Ties (Prequel to The Mentalist Series)



  BROKEN TIES

  Prequel Novella

  The Mentalist Series

  Kenechi Udogu

  Copyright © 2014 Kenechi Udogu

  All rights reserved.

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are used fictitiously and any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events, or locale is entirely coincidental.

  Other books by Kenechi Udogu

  The Other Slipper

  The Summer of Brian

  The Altercation of Vira

  The Yam Po Club

  Aversion: Book One of The Mentalist Series

  Sentient: Book Two of The Mentalist Series

  ACKNOWLEDGMENTS

  I’m wrapping a warm bubble of gratitude around Neso, Okey, Mum, Chizoba, Pi-lin, Donna, Dumebi, Triona, and my new beta readers – Lisa Catanese and Chelsea Hunter. Your unwavering devotion to this series will never be forgotten.

  This book was written for the fans of The Mentalist Series. Thank you for reminding me to share Paul’s story with you.

  ONE

  Paul

  Have you ever felt trapped by your own existence? Knowing nothing you do or say can change your messed up situation? Yet, knowing the change you desire will only lead to pain and loss. It’s a far more unpleasant sensation than I’ve described; and once the feeling sets in, it’s pretty difficult to shake.

  I’m not usually this dramatic.

  Scratch that.

  I’m never dramatic. The truth is, I can’t afford to be theatrical about life with the fate I’ve been allotted. But, sometimes, finicky emotions sneak up on you and a guy can’t keep his head up like he knows he should.

  Like the first day I caught a glimpse of my future. I was six years old when my father had the grossly uncomfortable conversation about the birds and the bees with me. Probably a bit young for such graphic talk, but when you’re not like regular folk, some things had to be broached earlier than others. That way I wouldn’t get the option of dreaming about a life that could never be.

  After my initial dismay at the thought of never marrying my seven year old freckled neighbour, Susan Riley, things swung into full gear with my training. In the ten years which followed that eye-opening conversation, I tried not to look back on what could have been (it helped that Susan moved on to some other guy once I began ignoring her), or to look ahead at what I’d be missing out on.

  That was the more difficult feat. Who wants to live life knowing every detail has already been planned out for you? Living in a large city, I noticed pretty girls all the time (it was impossible not to); but with my father drilling tenets of look-but-don’t-touch into me for years, I got by okay.

  Sort of.

  Like I said before, it wasn’t an easy task.

  I remember the moment when I started thinking of my life like it was a load I was dragging towards a dead-end. One which I’d hit in five years when I’d turn twenty-one and have to take on my real responsibilities. I wasn’t afraid of what was to come. Having a child with a stranger to keep a bloodline intact isn’t an uncommon practice. Royalty has done it for centuries and no one seems to balk at the idea, so there was really nothing odd about our kind trying to preserve our heritage.

  There was nothing unusual about the night everything changed. No flashing lights in the sky, no searing fire in my belly; no sign whatsoever to suggest the shift which was to come. It was late May, summer beckoned and the sky was light, despite the lateness of the evening. I’d just finished a long shift unloading deliveries at a local supermarket. Crate lifting wasn’t fun but it beat the alternative, tagging along with Dad on his handyman job for half the pay. It wasn’t that I didn’t like spending time with my father; I just wasn’t as good with tools as he was.

  On my way home I always stopped off to clear my head at the back steps of an old court building the city council had shut down a few years ago. Three hours of walking down packed aisles was almost as bad as a full day at school. I’d had a fairly good day because nobody had needed any special attention from me. I didn’t particularly mind what I had to do with my abilities; I just wasn’t always in the mood to carry out my duty when I was exhausted and irritable at work.

  Taking a long drag on one of the cigarettes I’d pilfered from Dad’s stash, I watched as the evening breeze reduced the grey wisps of smoke I’d exhaled into nothing. One second, smoke, next thing, gone. Despite a long term acceptance of my fate, I occasionally allowed myself the vain thought that one day I could fade into nothingness too. Just float up and be carried away with the wind. Maybe I’d not dissipate like the smoke; instead I’d be deposited in a place where none of this mattered. A place far away from my reality, a place with no one to save from themselves.

  That might be the only way to escape what I was. What I had to do.

  “How many times do I have to say this, Brandon? I’m not interested in spending an entire evening with you. Or any time of the day for that matter.”

  “Come on Nora, you can’t be serious. I’ve seen how you look at me when I’m out on the field.”

  The voices came from behind some overgrown shrubs and I sat up, crushing the cigarette butt with my heel, ready to bolt if they headed my way. I chose that spot as my refuge stoop because people rarely walked past it; the path which ran round the back of the building only led to Oswald Close. You’d have to be one of its few residents to use it.

  “It’s called watching the game, you idiot. I’m looking at everyone out there, not just you. Get over yourself.”

  “Nora…”

  “Besides, it doesn’t matter what you want because I’m seeing someone else.”

  Silence.

  “Yeah, right,” the guy scoffed.

  By then I knew whose conversation I was unwittingly eavesdropping on and I wished I was anywhere but there. There was still a chance I could slip away before they came into view. Rising as quietly as I could, I tiptoed down the steps and began my escape. 

   I must have misjudged their proximity because I had barely taken two steps when Nora came into view. She stopped walking when she saw me, taking a step back as she was clearly not expecting anyone to be lurking there. A shadow passed over her face but it was quickly replaced with a smile, probably because she recognised me from our Physics class. Better a weirdo student than a masked man with a knife, right?

  “Hey, Paul,” she sauntered up to me and placed her hand lightly on my arm, her smile broadening. Her pale blue sun dress fluttered in the breeze I’d been fixated on a minute ago.

  Why was she acting like there was nothing strange about the fact I’d been sitting there alone? Wait, what was I saying? Why the hell was she touching me? Acting like we were old friends.

  “Walk me home,” she reached up to whisper close to my ear. In the process her body pressed up against mine, her warm breath tickled my cheek. A faint strawberry scent filled the air around me.

  I felt myself shudder.

  “Huh?”

  I was failing in my quest not to sound completely moronic.

  “Not all the way, just enough to put Brandon off. I only live around the corner.”

  Her eyes pleaded with me almost as eagerly as her voice. How could I say no to that?

  “Okay,” I heard myself whisper back. It was only around the corner, right? No harm done, especially if she really didn’t want to be followed.

  I looked up to meet the eyes of the now gaping Brandon. It probably looked like Nora and I were having an intimate conversation. I wondered if he thought I was the person she’d just said she was dating. That would certainly explain the look
on his face.

  The thing was, I knew Nora was lying about having a boyfriend. I always know when people aren’t being truthful. One of the gifts I get for being special ol’ me.

  “You’ve got to be kidding me,” Brandon growled.

  Despite the accuracy of his observation, his words still stung.

  “See you tomorrow,” Nora turned to dismiss him with a playful wave, her body remained close to mine. Yep, no doubt about it, she wanted him to think we were together. 

  Perhaps Brandon Collier, a.k.a. golden boy footballer, was not one to take rejection lightly, or his brain just couldn’t accept the connection his eyes were forced to look upon. Whatever the reason was, instead of backing off like he should have, he moved towards us, grabbed Nora’s arm and twisted her towards him.

  I’m pretty sure it was her wince that made me flip.

  Wrenching his hand off hers, I wrung it tightly