Addicted to the Light
ADDICTED TO THE LIGHT
Would you sacrifice everything for a friend?
S.E. AMADIS
BOOK TWO
THE ANNASUYA THRILLERS
Seas Of Mintaka Publishing
Spain
Copyright © 2017 by S.E. Amadis / SeasOfMintaka.com
All Rights Reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, distributed or transmitted in any form or by any means, including photocopying, recording, or other electronic or mechanical methods, without the prior written permission of both the copyright owner and the publisher of this book, except in the case of brief quotations embodied in critical reviews and certain other non-commercial uses permitted by copyright law.
Published by Seas Of Mintaka Publishing
First Published: July 2017
For all inquiries please contact:
S.E. Amadis / SeasOfMintaka.com
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Publisher’s Note: This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents are a product of the author’s imagination. Locales and public names are sometimes used for atmospheric purposes or are used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual people, living or dead, or to businesses, companies, organizations. events, institutions, or locales is completely coincidental.
Cover Design © 2017 S.E. Amadis / SeasOfMintaka.com
Cover image used under licence by Adobe Stock
Addicted to the Light / S.E. Amadis – 1st ed.
TABLE OF CONTENTS
Dedication
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Acknowledgements
Other Books by S.E. Amadis
About The Author
BONUS CHAPTERS
Annasuya and Lindsay have been inseparable since high school. They love each other dearly. Their steadfast friendship could overcome anything. There isn’t a single thing they wouldn’t do for each other.
Or is there?
One day, Lindsay disappears, lured into the depths of a mind-sucking, Machiavellian cult.
But this pacific, back-to-the-land eco-community isn’t everything it appears to be. Are its gentle, nature-loving members really as benevolent as they seem?
And what is their stern and mysterious leader, Elder Brooks, really up to? Is he merely a harmless and idealistic visionary, dedicated solely to the implantation of a new Garden of Eden on the face of the earth?
Or is there something totally depraved, something truly evil, behind his altruistic façade? Something far more evil than Annasuya could ever have suspected?
Annasuya is willing to do anything to save her friend. But when her own life is threatened, what will she choose?
Will she ever succeed in bringing Lindsay back to civilization? Or is her friend beyond reach, lost to her forever?
What lengths will Annasuya have to go to save her friend? Is she willing to pay the ultimate price to get Lindsay back?
Will she be able to stare into the eyes of pure evil — and survive?
ADDICTED TO THE LIGHT is the story of two friends and the bonds of love and loyalty that bind them together.
Other Books by S.E. Amadis
HARROWING
PATRICIA
IN THE PRISON OF OUR GRIEF
THE DEPTHS OF SORDIDNESS
A BEAUTIFUL DAY TO DIE
TANKER BILL: A MAN IN SEARCH OF REDEMPTION
Available from all Amazon stores and other retail outlets
Including Amazon.com
And Amazon.co.uk
FREE GIFT
IN THE PRISON OF OUR GRIEF
A sadistic murderess is on the loose — and has targeted Carrie Anne. Follow Carrie Anne Houghton and her comrades-in-arms in a whirling, dizzying, action-packed adventure filled with persecution, murder, lies and deceit. This fast-paced action thriller will grip you from the very first page.
“This is truly a gripping book, and definitely one you can’t put down... the story had me gripped and I HAD to keep reading to find out what happens next.”
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Dedication
Dedicated to everyone who has ever been deceived by or lured into a cult
And most especially to my friends Eva and Teresa
I pray you find your way out to the light one day
I began to scream and scream and scream. Gasoline slipped into my mouth. I spat it out and screamed louder than ever. My wrists ripped so hard at the bindings around them that it felt like my skin was tearing off in strips. The stink of gasoline burnt my nostrils and my eyes watered.
Elder Brooks began to recite something. I didn’t pay attention to the individual words, couldn’t have concentrated on them if my life depended on it. But they sounded familiar. They seemed similar to the Scriptures they sermonized from at every gathering.
When he finished, he lowered his head and motioned towards one of the Elders.
“You dared to befriend this heretic, Elder Smith,” he stated. “Now show us your true colours. Prove your loyalties to us.”
Elder Smith stepped towards me and smiled a rueful, sorrowful smile. His fumbling hands produced a box of matches from beneath the folds of his tunic.
Without hesitation, he lit a match.
PART I
Chapter 1
It started innocently enough.
I had just made the leap and left my tedious job of ten years, working as a temp administrative assistant for an agency, to start up my own business. I rented a tiny cubicle within a shared office suite downtown, determined to get the best my limited budget could afford. I named my fledgling enterprise “Adler Consultants”. Adler for my name, Annasuya Rose Adler. After a decade as a lowly secretary, I was going to become a business consultant.
“With over ten years’ experience and an intimate familiarity with hundreds of companies around the city,” I wrote in my main promotional pamphlet, “we are comfortable with every type of office environment and will be happy to provide you with a portfolio to help you improve your business, no matter what size it is or what field you specialize in. Whether you’re looking to make just a few simple changes in your suburban office manned by five employees, or a complete overhaul of your entire downtown facility, Adler Consultants are ready and waiting to take charge of the renovation and modernization of your installations. Call now for a free consultation.”
Calvin, my boyfriend, and my ten-year-old son, Romeo, came to help me stock up my brand new, spanking clean office, because it was summer and Romeo didn’t have school. They pushed open the door and surveyed the property with delighted anticipation.
The stainless steel and chrome window frames glistened in
the afternoon light. A weighty mahogany table dominated over the centre of the minuscule space, surrounded by four upholstered wooden chairs. The leather-covered executive style swivelling chair behind the desk invited me, practically lured me over as the new owner presiding over these sparkling facilities. A filing cabinet tottered in the corner, some useless remnant of a bygone era. I’d have it removed as soon as possible. I passed my hands over the green bankers lamp with an ornate brass stem that the owner of the suite had left for me. There wasn’t a smidgeon of dust on it. I had to congratulate whoever the landlord had hired as cleaners.
We hauled in the latest model desktop PC and a stool for me to rest my feet on, since at five-three I wasn’t exactly an icon of the fashion catwalk. A telephone with room to programme in five lines, some cushions for the chairs and a framed photograph of Calvin, Romeo and me beaming insanely at the comic photographer in an obviously artificial studio completed my rudimentary furnishings.
I ran my hand over the image. After the harrowing events of the past few months, we were trying to put our lives back together. I wasn’t finding it easy to get over a ferocious attack and three merciless, traumatic attempts to put an end to my life.
Romeo and I were both in therapy. He was dealing with the psychological after-effects of a horrific kidnapping by a schizophrenic nut job that ended up with him locked in a basement with me, left to die of hunger and dehydration.
I had a lot more on my plate. The same crazy who had kidnapped Romeo had raped and tortured me. My nights were still populated with nightmares and inexpressible terrors. My skin still bore the scars.
Thanks to the support of Calvin, I was able to sign up for therapy sessions with one of the best in the field, Christy Owen, who specialized in victims of sexual assault. During my first session, I discovered that by chance, Christy had also been raped by the same lunatic who had attacked me.
Bruno Jarvas was notorious in the news lately, not only because of the savage acts of sexual depravity he’d carried out over the course of several decades in the city, but also because of the horrendous and mysterious way he’d died. Someone had murdered him, after beating him to a pulp and mutilating him.
The same person who had done away with him also pursued me and tried to kill me too. If it hadn’t been for Calvin, I’d also be six feet under by now. Hugh, the murderer, disappeared, and we left the hunt for him up to the police and carried on with our lives.
I placed the frame back on my desk. Calvin, who’d been busy connecting the cables for the computer, clapped his hands in smug satisfaction and got to his feet.
“There, just plug in and play, sweets,” he said, leaning over to brush his lips against my brow.
He rested his tight, sexy buns on the windowsill, contemplating the late afternoon sun hovering over the lake from twenty-six floors above street level.
I turned towards him and responded with a noisy smooch while Romeo swiped at his mouth and made slurpy noises at us. I caressed my palms over Calvin’s creamy café-au-lait complexion, the fine cheekbones and twinkling black eyes the surprising result of generations of inter-racial marriage in the Caribbean islands. I wished that we could all be endowed with such a racially mixed heritage. From my point of view, mixed marriages were the only solution to the scourge of racism in the world.
Calvin waved his hands towards the door with a flourish, bursting in on my thoughts.
“Now all you need is a huge bronze plaque on the door, proclaiming the presence of your business in stentorian tones to the world, and you’ll be all ready to kick ass.”
He chuckled, and his proud smile lit up the entire scene. He wrapped his arms about me.
“Mmmhh, this is my little Annasuya Rose. One day you’ll be the biggest, most talked-about CEO in all of North America.”
I stroked his cheek.
“I’m not interested in being the biggest CEO in North America,” I told him. “Just a successful one.”
After locking the door of the office behind me, we hustled down to the nearby Eaton Centre to deck myself out with a few new suits and several pairs of leather pumps with varying heel lengths.
“The stilettos for greeting potential clients in the office,” I explained to Calvin, “and the flats for going out to visit companies.”
Calvin grinned.
“And aren’t you missing a couple of jogging shoes?” he joked. “In case you need to make a run for it sometime?”
I cuffed him across the shoulder.
“Never again.” I patted his cheek coyly. “I know martial arts now, remember? If someone ever dared to attack me again, I’d stay and fight.”
I swiped some tester lipstick across my lips and puckered up playfully. The cherry-tinted rouge contrasted with my mousy waves and pale complexion in a way I found flattering.
“Some power lipstick,” I commented, tossing a cellophane-wrapped tube into my shopping cart and throwing a raspberry at Calvin. “Now I no longer need to melt into anonymity in the background of someone else’s office, it’s time I learnt to pack some clout. Right, sweets?”
My shopping-intolerant boyfriend followed me about the store, glowering morosely as I piled my arms high with trouser suits. He passed his fingers suggestively over a pinstriped skirt.
“How ‘bout something a bit more feminine?” he asked. “Beauty for a beautiful lady, and something to show off your admirable curves.”
Romeo rolled his eyes.
“Coor-nyyy,” he exclaimed with a grimace.
I glanced at what Calvin held between his fingers and my hairs stood up on end.
“I haven’t been able to wear a skirt like that since...” I sighed and shook my head. “Well, I mean... You know that’s what I was wearing when... well, something similar, the day Bruno... you know...” My voice trailed off.
Calvin came close and hugged me tightly.
“You have to start getting over these illogical superstitions.” He stroked his hands up and down my arms. “You don’t think Bruno did what he did because of what you were wearing, do you?”
I gazed off into the distance.
“I’ll never know. Maybe if I’d been wearing slacks... At least, if he’d had to struggle with a belt, it might have bought me some time... Maybe someone would have shown up before he could do anything...”
I bit my lip and shook my head again.
“No, Calvin,” I told him firmly. “I’m not ready to take that step yet. Still reminds me too much of the past. Besides which,” I added, “I hate skirts anyway.”
I snitched the skirt from Calvin’s hands and threw it back onto the rack with a vengeance.
“And I really despise pantyhose.”
We finished our spree with a kebab dinner and vanilla ice-cream with chocolate syrup in the massive food court. I was looking forward to my first day at “work” in the morning.
*
The weekend after, I hadn’t managed to snatch any clients yet. However, I’d received a few promising phone calls and emails, and a local newspaper placed a small review of my services and qualifications in one of their weekday editions — albeit in a back corner of the paper.
Calvin, Romeo and I met up with my best friend, Lindsay, as I’d grown into the habit of doing on the weekends ever since I almost lost my life at Bruno’s hands. We treasured these moments, and never took our time together for granted anymore. We usually shared a relaxed meal at some newly discovered restaurant, then took a walk somewhere, exploring the different neighbourhoods this vast city had to offer.
But this week, Lindsay seemed in the mood for something different. She arrived dressed up as if for a costume party. Surprised, I studied the brightly coloured Indian sari — which didn’t flatter her pallid skin at all — draped about her slim figure, and the tacky plastic daisies on a hairband decorating her short blond curls.
“What’s with the sari?” I asked.
“I saw a news report about this girl who’d grown up with the Hare Krishna,” Lindsay gushed as soon
as we met, as we usually did, at the corner of Yonge and Queen.
She gave me a hurried embrace, then grasped my arm and started dragging me towards the subway station.
“When she moved out of the commune and got her own apartment, she said her life became drab and dreary. Something was missing. In the end she had to return. She missed dressing up the deities every morning, and chanting songs and prayers with all the members of her extended ‘family’. Being with her family, that is, the members of her Hare Krishna community, made her feel like she belonged someplace. Like she had these people who would always be with her, always protect her, no matter what happened in this cold, cruel world.” Lindsay sighed. “I wish I had something like that.”
I pushed at her.
“Don’t you feel that way with me?” I asked, a bit dismayed. “You know I’ll always have your back. I’ll always protect you.”
Lindsay nodded.
“I don’t doubt that. But...” She licked her lips. “I dunno. I guess I just feel like I want a family. A real family.”
I shook my head thoughtfully, staring at the ground. All of a sudden I realized that in spite of the number of years I’d known Lindsay, her family life was still a mystery to me.
“Don’t you have a brother?” I wondered. “And I seem to recall, your mom’s still around too, isn’t she? Unlike mine.”
Lindsay thumbed at her lips.
“Well, yeah, I guess my brother’s kinda neat. And we do meet up — about once a year, at Christmastime. But okay, I do admit, it’s more than you have.”