LUCIFER'S ANGEL Read online

  Copyright Michael S Martin 2012

  All rights reserved.

  The author would like to point out that the story is pure fiction and the characters in the book are totally fictitious.

  Chapter 1

  2nd July 1986

  “Connor sweetheart your dinner is nearly ready” shouted a voice from downstairs.

  “Ok mummy”

  Connor was in his bedroom trying to force his trainers on with the laces still tied up. It would save him time when he wanted to play on his bike or go and climb the trees in the field next door.

  Even though he was only five years old, climbing trees was one of his strong points. His caring mother would watch in fear as he effortlessly reached nearly thirty foot in some of the old oaks, where he would sit there waving at her. It would be his escape when his eight year old sister and her friends stopped over at the weekends and wanted to involve him in girly things. From high up he would also watch various animals go about their foraging, oblivious to his presence as well as act out role plays of some of the characters he had seen on TV.

  “Wash your hands Connor” said his mum, just as he was about to sit at the table.

  He obediently stood at the sink on his box so he could reach the taps and quickly wet his hands then efficiently dried them, eager to eat his dinner that was still steaming on the table. As he tucked in to his sausage and mash his mother lovingly stroked his blond mop of hair then kissed him. His large blue eyes never left the plate, a smile and a nod was the only acknowledgement to her.

  “Your sister and daddy will be home soon Connor so before you rush off on your bike, make sure you give daddy a big hug”

  Again just a nod told her he had heard her as he crammed into his mouth as many sausages and mashed potato as he could, meaning he was barely able to breathe let alone talk. In seconds his plate was clean and he was slurping back his orange squash and racing back upstairs to fetch his plastic water pistol so he could attach it to the front of his bike using the bracket his father had made for him from an old coat hanger. It was as he was attaching it the recognisable sound of his father’s car could be heard coming up the drive. As soon as it came into sight and he could see his father and sister sitting in the front Connor began to wave then patiently waited until the car had stopped in front of the garages until running up to it to greet them both.

  “Hello daddy” said Connor as he threw his arms around his father’s legs and waited for him to pick him up and kiss him.

  As Edward his father held him in his arms, Connor waved to his sister Molly and pointed to the bikes. She waved back and blew him a kiss but at eight she was becoming a young lady and had no time for kiddie’s frivolities.

  “Do you want to play daddy?” asked Connor.

  Still with his arm around his father’s neck Connor pulled his face away to look at him but his dad gave no reaction back. For Connor to distract his father from his daze he had to put his face in front of his with their noses touching. Like most five year olds Connor’s dad was his hero and he felt safe in his arms. For a couple of seconds he studied his dark wavy hair and his clean shaven face that would always kiss him goodnight after reading him a bedtime story. Edward Chevaal was in his late thirties but still looked quite young for his age and apart from Edward having dark hair and Connor having blond, both father and son looked very similar.

  Connor could sense his daddy was busy thinking about something so wriggled out of his arms, dropped to the floor and ran as fast as he could over towards his bike. No sooner had he jumped on it he was peddling as fast as he could down the drive way from where his father’s car had just come from. He barely had control as his little legs pumped as fast as they could go, his arms struggling to hold onto the handle bars, his blond mop of hair bouncing and shining in the warm summer evening sunshine.

  Although he never wore a watch, Connor realised it was getting late and felt surprised but glad his mother had not come looking for him, calling his name. Thirst had got the better of him so he pushed his bike back towards the big old farmhouse house, leaving it on the lawn outside. The house seemed quiet as he found a glass and poured himself an orange juice from the fridge. If he was quiet enough he could drink his juice and then sneak back out for a few more minutes on his bike. This time he decided he would take his plastic sword with him to battle the evil aliens. If only he kept his room tidy it would not take so long for him to find it. It wasn’t under the bed or in the wardrobe so the only place it could be was on the large window sill in his room, amongst a mass and jumble of other toys there.

  “There you are” he said, his eyes lighting up at the sight of the sword sticking out from the side of the curtain.

  Before Connor could reach his bedroom door he was stopped in his tracks and was frozen with terror at the sound of a loud bang that sounded like a gunshot. His big blue eyes grew twice the size as following the loud bang, shouting could be heard then screaming. The whole of his body began to shake at the thought of what might be happening downstairs. Whatever it was he wanted his mummy and daddy, so bravely and quietly made his way out of his room to the large landing and hall way at the top of the stairs. It all now seemed rather quiet except what seemed like the moving of furniture and the odd smashing sound.

  “Bang!!!” went another shot, followed by screams which sent him running back to his room filled with fear and terror.

  “Mummy.........daddy..........”said a voice barely able to speak from a body that was now paralysed.

  A couple of minutes went by before Connor plucked up the courage to look out of his bedroom window that overlooked the front of the house after hearing the front door slam shut. A figure in jeans and trainers could be seen in the barns opposite but as hard as he tried Connor could not see the top half of what looked like a man. He knew the barn was where Molly kept her horse and where daddy kept his motorbikes and the family caravan so maybe the man was trying to steal them. Connors eyes bulged as he tried to see what the man looked like but also knew deep down that if he did see him it would make him more scared. He was doing his best to hold back the tears and not to cry but he could not help it.

  “Burglars” Connor whispered to himself.

  Again the jeans and trainers appeared at the entrance to the barn making him jump slightly.

  “Where’s mummy and daddy...........where’s mummy and daddy?” he said snivelling and wiping his nose on his sleeve.

  Connor could now see smoke coming from the barn and in no time at all flames could be seen licking their way out from where the man was stood. His little heart pounded as the figure could be seen dowsing everything in what looked like petrol making the flames grow higher. Instinctively Connor ducked down and away from the glass when the figure appeared out in the open and away from the smoke. As he crept nearer the glass once again Connor froze as the man who was now making eye contact with him looked familiar but angry and had been crying. His eyes were wide and the whites of them seemed so near, almost like he was up against the window itself. Keeping his stare focused on Connor with eyes that seemed possessed and he himself had only seen in comics and films, the figure picked up a shot gun from the doorstep.

  Connor watched as the wild looking man he now recognised seemed to be reloading it.

  “Daddy!”

  Connor was too young to comprehend why this was happening and why his father, whom he loved so much and who loved him more than anything, was doing these terrible things. Where was Molly and his mummy and what had his daddy done to them? Connor watched as his daddy climbed into his big posh black car, parked it in the garage with the other one, came out then locked the garage doors. Amongst the fear in his head the thought of perhaps running away came to him and he immediately ran towards the bedroom door an
d headed downstairs.

  “Mummy........mummy.........mummy” he whispered as he quickly ran through the kitchen and headed for the back door.

  He was stopped in his tracks by the sight of the back door having been barricaded with furniture to stop his or anyone else’s escape. As young as he was, he now realised that the situation was not right and he had to get away even if he did love his daddy very much.

  “Connor!!”

  His name being shouted in anger and had him gasping for breath as the sound of the front door being opened had him looking for an escape route. If only he could find his mummy, she would know what to do. Luckily for Connor because the house they lived in was a large farm type house with a lot of rooms it gave him a chance of hiding and not being found. Although it seemed there was no way out of the house because of the doors being blocked, Connor could still move from room to room but he had to be quick and quiet. His way through the kitchen was now blocked but if he could get to the downstairs toilet and shower room he could lock himself in until help came.

  As his father entered the kitchen Connor slipped into the dining room which led to the play room which in turn led to the downstairs toilet. Through tears he pushed at the toilet door but it would not move. Something was blocking it but he knew he had to get in there. With all his five year old might and terror he pushed again and this time it moved a little. He could now hear his dad entering the dining room calmly calling out his name forcing his stomach to turn over, making him feel sick. Pushing again with all his effort the door moved again enough for him to squeeze in and shut the door behind him and lock it as quietly as he could. Having no windows in this room meant it was dark but he dared not turn the light on in case it attracted attention and made his dad aware he was in there. He also realised that if he turned the light on, the extractor fan would also come on making too much noise. Placing his hand over his mouth so as to stifle the breathing and crying Connor sat there in silence worried that his pounding heart would be heard from the other side of the door. A couple of hours ago he was the happiest boy in the world and now he was hiding for his life for reasons he knew nothing about.

  The noise of his father entering the play room mumbling and what sounded like crying had Connor holding his breath and closing his eyes listening as hard as his ears would allow. The rattling of the door handle to the toilet and shower room was expected but never came as Connor sat curled up waiting to be found. For a couple of minutes there was silence then Footsteps could be heard upstairs meaning his dad must be up there which gave him an opportunity to perhaps escape through a window if he could. It meant he would have to leave the sanctuary of the room he was now in but it might be worth a try. As quietly as he could he unlocked the door and slowly opened it almost too scared to look outside. The natural light from the play room shone into the toilet and there on the floor was a pool of blood. Connor had been standing in it and as he looked at the floor could see his imprint from the sole of his trainers. Peering around the door where he had just been hidden with mouth wide open and a tear stained face, Connor was greeted with a sight that had him screaming in horror.

  “Noooo! Mummy! Mummy!”

  Lay there in the pool of blood was his mother Carol Chevaal with a gunshot wound to her chest. Her eyes were staring at him wide open with blood splatter over her face. The scream of anguish that left Connor’s mouth temporarily woke his father out of his murderous daze and had him running to his aid.

  “Connor it’s your daddy please don’t run away………….tell daddy where you are, I have to finish this”

  The sound of his father’s voice and the running of footsteps across the bedroom upstairs startled Connor from his nightmare and had him opening the play room door to make his escape. Another obstacle became apparent when the realisation that the play room was filled with smoke and was now choking him. Remembering what he had been taught in school Connor dived to the floor and tried to make his way to the door of the dining room but it was becoming too hot. Trying to fight back uncontrollable fits of crying he searched around for an escape but there in front of him was a sight that had him shaking from head to toe. His sister Molly was lay face down with her head slightly twisted, her body soaked in blood. Connor’s instinct was to go to her and help but his young mind knew it was probably too late. He eyes were also open and looking towards the door and it was then Connor noticed that although there was a table wedged up against the door that led out to the garden meaning he could not use it, the door had a cat flap for their cat called socks. Crawling as fast as he could towards it he tried it with his hand to see if it would open and much to his relief it did. Squeezing head first through the gap he gulped back fresh air. As he landed on the mat outside the screams of his dad inside filled his ears. As much as he tried not to listen he could not help it as cries of anguish could be heard.

  Picking himself up off the floor he looked around and it seemed everywhere was becoming enveloped in smoke, not only the barn but the house itself and the air outside. Connor knew he had to find somewhere that was safe away from the fire so ran as fast as he could towards his favourite large trees in the field next door. It was as Connor crossed the back garden and looked in through the patio doors to the living room that he saw his father inside, totally unaware that Connor was now outside and reasonably safe. Routed to the spot Connor watched as his father, the person he loved so much and had been his hero for so long was knelt on the floor sobbing, crying out and coughing as he struggled to breath. Occasionally his father would disappear, then re-appear through the smoke and when he reappeared this time his dad was holding the shotgun Connor had seen earlier. Walking slowly towards the door and whispering daddy to himself, Connor watched as his father held up the gun to his mouth, totally oblivious to the fact his son was outside the window watching him.

  “Daaaadddyyyyy” cried out Connor uncontrollably, as all he wanted was his dad to hold him again and keep him safe.

  All he wanted was all this to go away and for his daddy to stop crying and to kiss him like he would when he put him to bed after reading him a story.

  “Bang!!”

  As the muffled gunshot from inside was heard Connor’s father fell and disappeared into the smoke. Connor was now consumed with shock at what he had just witnessed as the sound of small explosions could be heard outside and inside the house. Flames started to burst through windows and smoke bellowed out through every opening. With tears still streaming down his face Connor headed for the sanctuary of the large oak trees in the field. Normally he would climb to about thirty foot but now he kept climbing, wanting to get as high as he physically could.

  By now the house was fully ablaze, the house where he, his mother, his father and his sister had spent his whole life. Now they were all gone and he was all alone, scared and in shock at what had just happened, his young and innocent mind unable to comprehend what he had just seen. Sirens could be heard in the distance as Connor watched the house start to collapse as he started to shake once again. His adrenalin was wearing off and he was dressed only in jeans and a tee shirt and although it was in the middle of July and a warm summers evening he was feeling frightened and cold, the effects of the smoke forcing him to cough violently and be sick.

  The house was isolated in the country so there were no neighbours nearby to help Connor. As he sat and watched the fire engines turn up and start to attempt to put the flames out he remained still, not wanting anyone to know he was in the tree. Still shaking he watched as policemen and firemen started searching around the grounds of the house. He tried to make his self as small as he could sat on the branch because as the police were here it might mean he was going to be in trouble. For two hours he sat and watched the flames slowly get smaller and smaller and the light of the sky steadily disappear and the dark creep in around him. The shivering was starting to become uncontrollable as he had also wet himself and soiled himself trying to escape the house and the crying had worn him out. Even though he was scared he remembered what
his mother and father had told him about being lost and scared if they were out somewhere and he could not find them.

  “Look for a policeman Connor and they will look after you until we find you”

  Reluctantly he started to climb down out of the tree in the hope that the policemen were not going to tell him off and that they would look after him. As he touched down onto the floor a voice startled him from behind and had him burst out crying in fear once again.

  “It’s ok son your safe now everything is going to be alright”

  The policeman gently grabbed Connor and picked him up and could tell straight away that he was terrified and that he had been something to do with the fire at the house due to his face being covered in black, tear stained smudge marks.

  “I want my mummy and daddy” cried Connor as the policeman carried him back to the garden where his car was parked, Connor gripping him tight around the neck and burying his head in his shoulder.

  “What’s your name son?”

  “Connor Chevaal”

  “And how old are you?”

  “I’m five years old” Connor replied snivelling back the tears.