Tearing The Shroud Read Online Free PDF Page B

of his hand, he put the matter to serious thought. They wanted something. But what could he possibly offer? After all, he wasn’t even into his teen years yet. A lad to most, and a child to many. A child with no family, an orphan. Not just an orphan; the sole survivor of his family. Sole survivor. Sole inheritor.
    That was it! His father was rich. Everyone in the Greater Valley knew that. They also knew his family had more than just land and cattle. In his youth, Justus’ father had helped settle the remote section of the Valley where their holding lay, and he’d mined gold from it. The vein had eventually run out, but not before his father accumulated a vast fortune, enough to make his grandchildren seven generations later very rich men. Justus was the sole heir. Furthermore, only he knew where the gold was stored; only he had access to it.
    His parents had been determined that their boys should never want for anything, but also that they shouldn’t feel entitled. They kept their studies up, helped with the chores, tended the cattle, and worked maintaining the crops. Justus had never considered the importance of his family’s wealth. Now, quite simply, he had.
    During his ordeal, something had broken within Justus, something beyond flesh and bones. It was a part of himself he didn’t know existed. Now, that dark twisted thing rose up and filled his mind. The room chilled and his thoughts came to him as if someone whispered in his ear.
    Gold carries power.
    They want it...the power...the gold.
    Ezra practically drools for it.
    Justus sniffed and shook his head muttering, ‘What a complete simpleton. He helped me out expecting to take what’s rightfully mine.’
    The chilling voice in him caressed the idea.
    Let him believe it — long for it.
    Make him grovel.
    It will be...fun...yes, so much fun.
    Part of him recoiled but the temptation was too much to resist.
    Power, the voice whispered. Over their lives...or deaths.
    I could control death?
    Yes...death...the ultimate form of control.
    Theirs, and even...
    ‘ My own,’ Justus whispered.
    He closed his eyes and imagined the possibilities. A smile crept to the corners of his mouth as he envisioned himself the master of every moment, with those around him doing his bidding like puppets on strings. Pleasure at the idea warmed him as the chill left the room, its task complete. Slowly, over the course of his healing, the idea took root and blossomed. Justus set his feet on the path he would follow for the rest of his life. A life that he planned would continue for a long, long time.

Chapter 4
    Fall 1984
San Diego, California
    They maneuvered Vincent’s 1976 Toyota Celica through the narrow streets of Old Town, looking for a parking spot. The area was a major tourist draw, with restaurants and shops, but small homes still nestled among them. The streets worked well in 1830, but the founders never envisioned how things might be a hundred years later. The thick fog sat here, contained by the surrounding hills like soup in a cauldron. Flea pointed, and Vincent pulled down a narrower side street. They finally found a spot between an old Studebaker and a new Mustang.
    ‘Boy, it’s a good thing this car’s small,’ Flea said as he eyed the minuscule opening.
    ‘And my driving skills are so stellar,’ Vincent said. ‘Watch this.’ He slipped the Toyota in on the first try.
    ‘How do you do that?’
    ‘Well, it’s a simple matter of positioning the car correctly — ’
    ‘Vincent, it was a rhetorical question.’
    Vincent bit back a grin. ‘Rhetorical huh? Is this big word day?’
    Flea laughed. ‘Come on, it’s just around the corner.’ He unfolded himself from the car and waited as Vincent locked it. ‘Just up here.’
    They were only able to see a short distance into the darkness. The sidewalks were holdovers from fifty years before, with a separate section every two feet, their edges raised and corners cracked by time and tree roots. Vincent didn’t