Brothers in Blood Read Online Free PDF

the way.
    He bent low over the small table until his chin was on a level with the top of his glass, his face eager with enthusiasm. ‘You realise that what we did bonded us together – forever. On your bloody deathbed when you’re a gummy old bastard pissing on the mattress and farting uncontrollably, you’ll think back to what we did and grin a toothless grin in remembrance. We shed blood together. We are blood brothers now.’
    He held out his hand to me, eyes shining brightly. I took it and shook it firmly.
    ‘Brothers,’ he said.
    ‘Brothers,’ I said.
    We didn’t speak for some time. We just sat there enjoying our new established closeness. For this words were not necessary.
    It was an unspoken understanding between us that we both knew that we would have to do something again before long. Something startling. Something forbidden. Something to make a difference once more. It was the start of the addiction. The satisfaction and adrenalin rush of the Old Mother Black episode had long gone, and dull, stultifying life was once more starting to overwhelm us. Similarly, we both knew – although we never discussed it – that we’d recognise the challenge, the fresh opportunity when it arose.
    At the beginning of our second year at college, sex reared its seductive head and we both had a few flings with several nubile girls. Because of our aloofness and self sufficiency, we had become something of a challenge for a number of our fellow students. Some of the lads wanted entry to our exclusive two man club to find out what made us tick and some of the girls fancied us because we didn’t walk around all day ogling them, touching them up with our tongues hanging out as though we were gagging for it. We intrigued them. We had become a mystery duo.
    The novelty of sex was pleasing at first, although I can’t say that in the end it was that much better than a good wank. The dreaded routine one had to go through before you reaped your reward soon put me off. The chatting up, the boring, empty conversations in pubs and discos, the pre-coital perambulations seemed too much like hard work for just a few moments of pleasure. Laurence was luckier than I. He never really had to exert himself in getting a girl. A flash of his smile and the allure of his eyes soon had the birds eating out of his flies. We’d be at a party and he’d start chatting up some leggy creature and the next minute, he’d be in one of the toilets giving her what for. But he got bored, too. ‘When you’ve been in the sweetshop a while all that sugar palls,’ he observed. ‘What we need is another endeavour. Something stimulating to stop our brains rotting.’
    He was right. What we didn’t realise at the time was that we had taken the first step on the ladder with the Old Mother Black affair and now we would never be content until we made our way to the next rung. However, we knew that it couldn’t be rushed and it had to have the same conditions established by our first ‘experiment’: we must act anonymously so that our involvement would never be suspected. That was part of the fun.
    Fate provided us with an ideal opportunity.

FIVE
    JOURNAL OF RUSSELL BLAKE 1968-1970
    It was the Christmas season of our second year at college. Ho fucking ho ho and all that. And our last Christmas before university. With some cunning, a little hard work and a certain amount of luck Laurence and I had both been offered good places. If we got the grades – and there seemed little doubt of that – he was going to York to study English and Drama and I was off to Durham to do languages. We hadn’t wanted to go the same university; we both felt that it was important to spread our wings and we were sensible and objective enough to realise that our close friendship might interfere with our studies. Getting through A levels was a doddle but degree work, we suspected, might be a little harder to cope with. However we vowed to stay in touch and remain close. After all we