Crumbling Control (Helena Hawthorn Series Book 3) Read online

  Table of Contents

  1 Madeline’s Funeral

  2 Saved By A Werewolf

  3 Ghosts Of The Past

  4 A Field Of Poppies

  5 The Council’s Archives

  6 The Ripper

  7 Celebrating Life

  8 The Black Alley

  9 Breaking Point

  10 Broken Promises

  11 A Few Seconds Ahead

  12 Cursed

  13 In The Dark

  14 BFFs

  15 Hidden Agendas

  16 Summoning The Dead

  17 Dead Weight

  18 Sacrifices We Make

  19 The Gate

  20 Broken Bonds

  21 The Date

  22 When Death Comes Knocking

  23 Letting Go

  Crumbling Control

  Helena Hawthorn Series Vol. 3

  MAY FREIGHTER

  Table of Contents

  1 Madeline’s Funeral

  2 Saved By A Werewolf

  3 Ghosts Of The Past

  4 A Field Of Poppies

  5 The Council’s Archives

  6 The Ripper

  7 Celebrating Life

  8 The Black Alley

  9 Breaking Point

  10 Broken Promises

  11 A Few Seconds Ahead

  12 Cursed

  13 In The Dark

  14 BFFs

  15 Hidden Agendas

  16 Summoning The Dead

  17 Dead Weight

  18 Sacrifices We Make

  19 The Gate

  20 Broken Bonds

  21 The Date

  22 When Death Comes Knocking

  23 Letting Go

  Copyright © May Freighter, 2016.

  The right of May Freighter to be identified as the author of this work has been asserted by her under the Copyright Amendment (Moral Rights) Act 2000.

  This work is copyrighted. Apart from any use as permitted under the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act 1988, no part may be reproduced, copied, scanned, stored in a retrieval system, recorded or transmitted, in any form or by any means, without the prior written permission of the author.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either a product of the author’s imagination or, if real, are used fictitiously. All statements, descriptions, information and material of any other kind contained herein are included for entertainment purposes only. Any resemblance to actual people living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  All rights reserved.

  Cover Design: May Freighter

  NOTE: This book is written in UK English.

  Some spelling may be different to U.S.

  www.mayfreighter.com

  1

  Madeline’s Funeral

  St Machar’s Cathedral was filled with dozens of people dressed in black. In dreaded silence, they occupied the carved pews. An aura of great loss shrouded the place as rain battered the stained glass outside.

  Even the gods mourn Madeline’s death.

  Helena swallowed and smoothed the piece of paper in her lap. The words she wanted to say fled her mind, leaving it a complete blank every time she looked at the photo of Madeline’s smiling face in front of her.

  Andrew’s hand landed on hers, and he gave it a light squeeze. “It’ll be okay.”

  “…I would like to ask Miss Hawthorn to stand and speak a few words about Madeline Eleanor Mathews.” The smiling Father O’Donovan waved for her to come forward.

  As she slowly rose to her full height, Helena feared she would fall. Her legs turned to jelly. Perseverance won over, and she walked to the microphone.

  Father O’Donovan took a step back, allowing her to place her short speech on the stand. She cleared her throat and grasped the sides of the pulpit to steady her. As she scanned the faces of those gathered, her eyes landed on the six-year-old girl. Her red curls were pinned on top of her head with ringlets brushing her ashen face. Helena’s heart hurt to see such a small child’s green eyes empty of any emotion.

  Cullodena looked up, and Helena’s stomach knotted again.

  “Do you need a moment?” Father O’Donovan whispered beside her.

  With the shake of her head, Helena looked at her speech, seeing the letters becoming blurry as she read it out for everyone to hear. “I am unworthy of being here. Someone closer to Madeline is more qualified. But, because I was asked to do so by her sister, Una, I will continue.”

  Helena closed her eyes. This had to be the hardest thing in her life. Since Andrew returned from being dead, she never truly mourned him. Speaking of Madeline in past tense summoned unwanted tears. She didn’t dare stop them and made tiny puddles on her memorised handwritten speech.

  “Madeline was like the sun in the sky on a beautiful summer’s day. She was always warm, caring, and brought joy to those around her… She helped me when everyone else would have refused my request and, for that, I will be eternally grateful.” Helena covered her mouth to stifle a sob.

  Andrew edged to her side, and she took his hand for support.

  “As I have said, I didn’t know her for very long, so my thoughts are my own.” She paused and squeezed Andrew’s hand as she looked at Cullodena’s round face. “Madeline was an amazing woman, and I can only aspire to be like her. Without her, I wouldn’t be here today. She…” Helena’s voice was strangled by an overwhelming sadness.

  Andrew gathered her trembling frame to his chest and led her to take their seats next to Madeline’s sister and Vincent.

  Helena swiped at the pesky tears that blurred her vision. Her tired eyes were almost hollow with dark circles underneath. She didn’t care for her looks. Madeline’s funeral blatantly showed her that life was fragile. No one was safe from Death’s claws.

  After the service, Helena approached Una who stood next to Cullodena with her hand protectively resting on the little girl’s shoulder. “I’m so sorry for your—”

  Una shook her head. “No need for that. Madeline did what she believed in. A gun to her head couldn’t stop her if she decided to help someone. I want to know one thing. Did she pass away peacefully?”

  Helena struggled to form a sentence. She couldn’t tell them Madeline was killed by an archdemon.

  “Your sister died saving me,” Andrew interjected. “And, although we didn’t see how she died, I’m sure it was a quick death.”

  Una lowered her voice. “I hope that you will attend the wake. I am certain people in the Circle wish to know more about how she passed.”

  Instead of responding, Helena knelt in front of the little girl. From her handbag, she took out her grandmother’s grimoire and lovingly ran her hand over the cover. With a smile, she offered it to the child.

  “This is the only thing I have left of my grandmother. It’s a grimoire, and I would like you to have it,” Helena said softly.

  Cullodena accepted it and pressed it to her chest. “There is something I have to give you, but it’s at home. Will you please attend Mum’s wake?”

  Releasing an almost silent sigh, Helena forced a smile. “If you want me there, I will come.”

  The child handed the grimoire to Una and wrapped her arms around Helena’s neck. Through the black dress she wore, Helena felt the child’s warmth—the same warmth Madeline emitted when she was alive. She didn’t deserve the kindness these people showed her.

  Helena separated from the girl and shook hands with Una.

  “I will see you this evening then,” Una said with a tilt of her head.

  All Helena could manage was a half-smile. Andrew wrapped his arm around her waist and led her away.
On the way to the doors, she sensed eyes on her. She pretended not to notice the stares and kept her walk steady.

  Andrew whispered into her ear, “Do you want to head back to the hotel?”

  The hotel made her think of the bed. She violently shook her head. Ever since she returned from the Demon Realm, she had the same nightmare. The memory of her dropping the lit match onto the carpet and the apartment catching fire tormented her. Even when she was a child, death followed her. Perhaps it would have been best if she had given in to Lazarus and let him take her soul. Maybe everyone would be happier.

  “Helena, do you have a minute?” Vincent’s deep baritone brought her attention back to reality.

  She faced the Council’s elder and waited for him to speak over the hiss of rain that dampened the earth and the small paved path two feet beyond.

  “I would like to invite you to stay at my home. There are some matters I wish to discuss with you, and I believe Perri would be delighted to see you again.”

  Helena studied his pensive expression. Whatever he wanted to discuss, she wanted no part in it. “I will be returning to Ireland tomorrow. I have to prepare to leave for America.”

  Vincent looked from Andrew to her. “I could use my influence as a Councilman to bring you to me or you can come as a guest. Please consider my offer carefully.” He inclined his head. “Till later, Helena, young man.” With a graceful movement of his hands, Vincent opened his umbrella and wandered down the path surrounded by weathered gravestones on either side.

  Andrew nudged her side. “Why does Master Vincent want to talk to you?”

  “I don’t know…” she mumbled.

  “Think it could be something important?”

  “I don’t know!” she snapped, immediately regretting it. Helena muttered a soft curse and marched along the same path towards the gates, letting the cool drops of rain seep into her dress. Being too tired and emotionally drained, she couldn’t care less if the world was on fire or if the Council came after her again.

  Andrew caught up with her and raised an umbrella over her head. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to upset you.”

  “Please, Andrew, let’s go somewhere, anywhere.”

  He offered her his arm, and she accepted it. With every step she took, the distance between her and the cathedral grew, as did the suffocating pain within her heart.

  Helena sat on a double bed in her hotel room, ready to attend the wake. Her clothes were simple—a black V-neck blouse and a pair of matching trousers she had packed just in case. Her damp dress from the service hung on a hanger on the door handle to the en-suite, giving her room a faint smell of rainwater.

  Like he had done for the past two weeks, Michael materialised next to her. With a deep-set scowl, he said, “Can we not move past this matter?”

  Helena abruptly stood and made her way to the window overlooking the green fields and tall trees outlining the beginning of the forest. Scotland’s countryside was a beautiful sight in the summer even when the weather turned vibrant colours into dull ones.

  “Helena, how long do you plan to ignore me for?”

  Grinding her teeth, she whirled on the spot and glared at her guardian angel. “This is your fault, Michael. You won’t tell me anything!”

  “You know I cannot share such information with you.”

  “Oh, stop it with that crap. What is the point of you parading around in my head and outside it if I can’t ask you anything?”

  Michael’s azure eyes lowered a fraction. “I know this is difficult for you, but you will know everything in good time.”

  She scoffed and crossed her arms. “When? When someone else dies because of me? Or when I’m the one dying?”

  His expression hardened as he took a step towards her. If he was physically present in her realm, the action would have been menacing. Lucky for her, he was nothing more than a ghost.

  “There are events at play that are out of your mortal control,” he said. “Matters that even I am not informed of.”

  “So your bosses have a grand plan for me? Am I to become a saint like Nadine and suffer for the rest of my life? Or are they plotting to turn me into one of you, an angel that can’t talk without permission?”

  Michael’s attention focused on the outside and his expression turned distant. Ever since she had first met him, he hadn’t aged. His golden hair fell around his shoulders and his sharp features used to mesmerise her. Now, his face only managed to irk her.

  “At least tell me if there’s any way to turn Maya back to normal. She can’t remain a demon forever.”

  Without looking at her, he replied, “Your friend cannot return to being a mortal. Her soul is tainted by darkness. Once the merge completed, her physical body was forfeited. She cannot materialise in this realm no more than I can.”

  “Then how was Lazarus able to change my string?”

  “He must have used a relic of some kind. No demon can do that without help from one of the gods,” he replied matter-of-factly.

  Helena’s brow furrowed. “So, there might be a god coming after me next?”

  He finally met her stare. “I do not believe so. Gods from my or Demon Realm rarely intervene with this one.”

  “That’s really reassuring.”

  “That is the best I can give you.”

  When a knock sounded on the door, Michael vanished from her sight. Grumbling, she opened the door to find Andrew and his primly dressed PA standing on the other side.

  An unnaturally bright smile decorated Orlaith’s red lips. The young woman wore a new expensive-looking suit that made Helena’s attire look like she bought it from a charity shop. For some reason, Helena couldn’t find anything likeable about the girl. Orlaith was close to a younger version of Tanya, plus a sickly sweet attitude.

  “You look better, did you get some sleep?” Orlaith asked.

  Helena glared at Andrew. “You told her about that?”

  He looked apologetic. “She was worried about your dark circles. I explained it’s because you can’t sleep at night.”

  “I have purchased some sleeping pills for you if you wish to use them,” Orlaith interjected.

  “Keep them. I sleep fine now, thanks,” Helena lied and closed the door.

  She grabbed her bag and her phone. Pressing the button on the side told her that she had no new calls, and her heart sank. Every time her screen remained blank, it reinforced her worry about Lucious’ absence. She couldn’t stay angry at him for saving her anymore, not when she couldn’t punch him to alleviate her pent-up tension. The only thing keeping her sane about his disappearance was that she was alive and well, which meant he had to be, too.

  Helena left the hotel room, following Orlaith and Andrew as they talked about business meetings and deals. At first, she tried to pay attention, but once they kicked off the conversation about mergers and property acquisition, she lost every shred of interest.

  In the car, while Andrew took the wheel, Orlaith repeatedly tried to offer vitamins to Helena.

  “Do you take pleasure in torturing me?” Helena asked.

  Orlaith pursed her lips. “This is to help you feel better. Vitamins are a great—”

  “Spare me the biology lecture,” Helena leant back in her seat and focused on the scenery of old houses lining the cramped road.

  “Oh, lighten up,” Orlaith mumbled.

  Helena had to blink twice as Orlaith’s words registered in her brain. She grasped the back of the PA’s seat. Before she could half-politely explain that she had attended a funeral of a woman who died because of her and that her friend became a demon, Andrew turned on the radio loud enough to make everyone cover their ears.

  “Damn it, Andrew. I get it!” Helena retreated into her seat.

  “Orlaith, please refrain from speaking for the rest of the evening unless it is related to business matters. It would save me a lot of trouble.”

  His secretary beamed at him with white enough teeth to blind a man. “Of course, Mr Keane.”


  Helena groaned and waited for the journey from hell to end. Bored out of her mind, she contemplated finding a mirror and bleeding on it to summon Maya. The only problem was that she could no longer use magic. When her string reverted to its normal white colour, her abilities vanished with the darkness. She was back to being one hundred percent human.

  People at the wake were dressed in colourful clothes, and Helena’s standard dreary attire didn’t fit in with the obvious theme.

  Una saw them entering. She glided to Helena and shook her hand. “Thank you for coming.”

  “Thank you for inviting us,” Helena replied and meant it.

  Much like during the service, she felt everyone’s eyes on her. The conversations around them became almost non-existent, and the hairs on the back of Helena’s neck rose as the living room buzzed with energy.

  Another woman with bleached hair separated from the group. Her face contorted with disgust. “Why did you invite these strangers to the Circle’s gathering, Una?”

  “They were important enough for Madeline to want to help them, Daria. She would want them to attend,” Una explained in a modulated tone.

  Daria sneered. “They got her killed! They shouldn’t set foot here.”

  “Enough!” screamed Cullodena as she pushed past the blonde to stand in the centre of the room. “I invited these people here, and you will accept this.”

  Most of the adults in the room bowed their heads low. Some of them knelt on the ground. Helena watched in pure shock as Daria lowered her knees to the carpet.

  “My apologies, priestess,” Daria said.

  Cullodena cupped the woman’s cheeks. She planted a soft kiss on her forehead, and Daria’s expression melted into joy. Madeline’s daughter released Daria and took Helena’s hand.

  “I promised to give you something, didn’t I?” Cullodena said with a light giggle.

  When Andrew followed them, Helena stopped him. “I’ll go alone.”

  “We will wait here until you’re ready to leave,” he replied.