Exclusive Preview: Custodians 2 "Rebellion"

(Fun fact for readers from Book 1. Suzanne Prevat opens Book 1 when she is chased through a sunflower field.)

PROLOGUE: THE CHAISE (1)

September 24th, 2019, Rousinac, SW France

Evening.

Rousinac local Suzanne Prevat was home alone. Her husband Freddy had gone out earlier to do some emergency plumbing work for a friend. Their dog was instinctively curled by the front door - double-locked with a loaded shotgun propped in its frame.

Outside the wind howled, knocking around an oil can Freddy had tossed on his rush out. The clacking it made on the concrete drive was annoying but Suzanne knew not to open the door at night, no matter what. She knew not to have the TV on too loud either.

UV lights outside in the yard bled a line through a crack in one of the locked shutters. It formed a rectangle on the chimney breast. She tried not to notice how it moved, as the wind picked at the shutter. Jumpy, Suzanne’s eyes bounced from the TV to the clock on the wall. Upstairs her child slept.

How long will he be? Merde.

Then, slowly, the dog stirred. He sniffed the air, got up and began staring intently at the bottom of the front door. Suzanne turned the TV off. She sat and watched the dog. Sometimes, the cat next door would follow a mouse onto the porch. She strained to listen.

Nothing.

Silence.

Then … clack clack clack.

The oil can rattled about in the wind.

Tick tock tick tock.

The sound of the clock.

The dog began to growl. It was a low guttural sound, its eyes fixed at one corner of the door. The hairs on the back of Suzanne’s neck prickled.

Then.

A whoosh then a thud against the garage door.

What was that? Did someone kick the can?

Nothing.

Then.

There was a whimpering sound. It sounded like a child, not an animal. Was it her daughter? It was coming from the yard. It can’t be Collette. She’s tucked up in bed. Isn’t she?

“Mama it’s cold.” The voice said, dissolving into a sob. Suzanne turned to the dog. It remained transfixed on the door. It hadn’t recognized the voice. It wasn’t her daughter. Her heart pounded.

Soft steps climbed onto the porch.

Tap tap tap!

“Mama, open the door. I’m cold.”

The dog lunged at the door barking furiously. Suzanne ran to a small window. She squinted through a crack in the shutter. The angle wasn’t right. She couldn’t see anything.

BANG BANG BANG!

There were bangs on the front door. Bangs on the shuttered windows. Bangs on the back door. The house was surrounded. The dog didn’t know what to do, where to go first. Suzanne looked at the shotgun but didn’t pick it up. The dog was going ballistic. Barking and circling wherever a window or door was thumped.

She took a look outside again through the slit. Her heart skipped a beat. In the yard stood a child, its face obscured by a hoodie. A muddle of shadows pooled on the porch close to the front door.

SLAM!

A hooded figure slammed the window where she was standing. She jumped away. Instantly, the dog scrambled towards its dog flap.

Putain! It wasn’t locked.

It was a big dog. A child could easily crawl through that flap. The dog shot noisily outside. The sounds that followed were terrible: whelps and unnatural, awful screams. For a few tense minutes the dog seemed to be winning. Then she heard a squeal and after that a horrible silence.

Footsteps gathered around the porch. Shadows darkened the dog flap. For a second or two Suzanne froze, sensing that the intruders were eyeing the dog flap.

SHUT THE FUCKING FLAP!

The thought smashed her into movement, which came just as a pale hand moved to push the flap in.

SNAP!

She’d shut it then bolted across a metal guard Freddy had previously installed.

The dog flap had been left open.

Mon Dieu! Putain!

How had they forgotten that?

What else was unlocked, unhatched?

Outside - scurrying footsteps.

BANG BANG BANG BANG!!

The commotion had woken Suzanne’s six-year-old daughter Colette. “Mama!” A voice called out from upstairs. In three strides Suzanne had made it up the stairs. Her eyes shot to the child’s bedroom window.

All this time, the shutters hadn’t been closed. The window was locked, thankfully. How could we have forgotten? Instincts kicked in, grabbing her child Suzanne ran back downstairs. She snatched up her phone and speed-dialed. Her husband picked up right away.

“Suzanne?”

“They’re here!”

Their daughter began to scream, “Ma-ma I’m scared!”

“Who?!”

“Come home now - NOW!”

Suzanne dropped the phone. Clutching Colette tighter she began to mumble a prayer. The intruders had surrounded the house, and were attacking every window, every door.

There was one door, she thought. An old wooden one to the far side of the house. If they got through it would let them into the garage. The interior door wasn’t shuttered. It wouldn’t take long to break the glass.

“SShhhhh, mama needs to listen my cherie.” She hushed her daughter and strained to hear.

Yes, they had found it. The exterior door was creaking, cracking. Suzanne grabbed the shotgun, and made towards a cupboard under the stairs.

“Go in there Colette, you’ll be safe.” But the child resisted, clinging on. Forcefully Suzanne pushed her daughter into the cupboard and locked the door.

“You MUST be quiet my cherie. You must stay quiet for mama, okay?” She heard Colette move to the furthest corner. Stay dead quiet. A child in Rousinac knew.

Suzanne made towards the back door. It was just her now. Well, they wouldn’t get her baby. No fucking way. No fucking way. You killed my dog ….

“I’ve got a gun, FILS DE PUTE!” She yelled. The banging stopped.

“I will kill every last one of YOU!” She felt insane now, almost high. A temptation thundered through the adrenaline rush, to go into the garage and fire through the old wooden door and blow whatever was behind it to smithereens.

Silence.

Everything had stopped.

What happens next?

The Custodians Book 1 is priced under $4 (82% discount) on Amazon US and under 10 GBP on Amazon UK. It makes a great winters read on nasty cold nights. Please tell your friends.