Promise of Wrath (The Hellequin Chronicles Book 6) Read Online Free PDF Page A

only after I’d been driving for a few seconds that I forced myself to take a breath. Driving to London would be a much worse proposition if I wrapped my car around a lamppost.
    I drove the remainder of the way in the sort of mood that would have made me explode at the first person who cut me up, or didn’t use their indicator, should I have been able to stop the car and get out. Fortunately, I was more interested in getting to my destination than I ever was in getting into an argument with some random shitty driver.
    As I reached the outskirts of London, I was grateful that the car I was driving was exempt from the London congestion charge, due to being on a list of vehicles approved by Brutus, the king of London—which meant I could drive through the streets without any concerns other than my destination of Whitechapel. Also because having to pay to drive through London always bugged me.
    Ordinarily the journey would have given me ample opportunity to think about what I was going to do when I actually got to Whitechapel, and where I’d go from there if I didn’t find anything. But, instead of taking my mind off things, I only thought more about what I’d seen. What Kay had done to someone who had once been a friend of mine.
    I parked the car around the corner from the entrance to what had been Francis’s home, and took a deep breath, preparing for whatever I was about to find inside. As I walked up the alley to the massive iron door, the whole world appeared to move slower. I thought about whether or not coming here was the right thing to do, but the decision to stay was an easy one. The need for revenge outweighed the uncomfortable feeling in the pit of my stomach.
    I grabbed hold of the door and pulled it open with a loud screech as the metal rubbed against the brick floor. Inside, a small room led to a staircase that went down to an old subway station, long abandoned and forgotten about. Francis had probably paid off several people so he could use it as his base of operations and home.
    I stepped into the room and closed the door, bathed in the flickering lights that sat on either side of the staircase. Every step down into the subway station echoed around me. It was a good thing I hadn’t bothered to try being stealthy; I sounded like a herd of elephants trampling around. By the time I was all the way down to the station platform, anyone who might have been waiting for me would have had plenty of time to prepare for my arrival.
    I moved to a wall and made my way along it, taking my time as I walked to the archway that led to where Francis and his people had plied their trade of dealing in information and goods—not all of which were acquired legally. I looked around the corner and found that the room was empty and completely trashed. The lights that sat high above the room flickered in time with those on the staircase, and I wondered whether I’d be better off without them, relying instead on my fire magic to see in the dark. But then I realized I had no idea where the fuse box or light switch or anything else that might control them was, so I decided to put up with it.
    A quick search of the room revealed nothing of note, so I carried on to the next, moving from room to room, but finding nothing that might be helpful. Each room brought back memories of my time here. Memories of laughter, friendship, being healed after I was hurt, and of the death of some of the people I had known just before I regained my past.
    I walked into the medical room, and, after finding nothing once more, threw a gust of wind toward a collection of rubbish strewn across the floor. My magic scattered the rubbish, taking some of my frustration and anger with it. Most of it slammed into the wall and fell to the floor with nothing more than a clatter, but I watched one piece of paper slide under the wall and disappear behind it.
    Kneeling in front of the wall, I cast a small amount of air magic, watching as it seeped under the wall. It