The Collector Book One: Mana Leak Read Online Free PDF

himself up above the windscreen.
    The Dean twins laughed. “Aw!” called Adam. “I was about to get the shovel then.”
    “Imagine the mess…” said Jake.
    “Is he okay?” Joe asked the woman, peering over the glass.
    She looked up.
    “It’s a she.” The woman gave the dog another quick rub. “She looks okay, thank Christ.”
    “Mum!” A small boy emerged from the house and dashed across the lawn. “Is Betsy all right?”
    “I told you to keep her upstairs! She came out after your father. Here, grab the collar and take her back inside. And close the door!”
    The boy nodded and gently tugged the dog away. “Come on, Betsy, dumb dog…”
    The dog howled once in protest, then allowed herself to be led away.
    The woman straightened and approached the car.
    “I’m sorry. My husband left in a hurry, and the kids were meant to keep the dog with them and…”
    “Really,” Joe interrupted, holding up a hand. “It’s fine. No harm done, eh?”
    Her lips parted in a weak smile. Joe expected her to burst into tears. Or maybe she’d already been crying. She wiped a red eye with the back of her hand.
    “I suppose,” she said. “You’re Mrs. McGuire’s son, aren’t you?”
    “Grandson, actually. I don’t look that old, do I?”
    She laughed, a feeble sound. The woman seemed exhausted. Drained, even. “I’m sorry. Tell her Anne says hello. We hardly see her around anymore, and it’s hard to pop over, what with the kids and everything.”
    Joe nodded. “I’ll tell her.”
    “Thank you, and sorry again.”
    “No problem.”
    She turned and headed back to the house.
    Joe watched her, and only when the front door had closed did he continue on his way.
    He glared at the Dean twins.
    Don’t they have anything better to do then sit on a wall and drink?
    He pulled the car into the empty driveway of his grandmother’s house at the end of Penny Crescent.

2.
    Joe had a key to his grandmother’s house and let himself in through the front door. He stood on an oriental rug in the dim hallway, small suitcase in his hand.
    “Grandma?”
    No reply.
    Something else seemed wrong. The air hung heavy with a strange odour; floral, yet with the underlying smell of burning wood.
    “Grandma? Are you okay?”
    He walked down the hallway, deeper into the house. The narrow corridor led to the kitchen at the rear. The lounge lay on his right.
    He swept the beaded curtain hanging from the doorframe aside and poked his head inside the room.
    The fragrant smell thickened. A large wooden orb on a table appeared to be responsible. Several sticks of incense poked out of the sides, light smoke drifting from the glowing tips. He entered the room, ducking beneath the various dream catchers attached to the ceiling. They lazily span on the slightest of air currents. He stepped around clay pots lying about the floor among hundreds of battered paperbacks and dusty old tomes.
    Oh Grandma , he thought, not all this again.
    “Ah, Joseph, you’ve come in.”
    Joe turned.
    His grandmother Eleanor stood in the doorway. She held a tray containing a steaming teapot, a couple of cups and a plate piled high with biscuits. Joe noticed the concentration on her face, as if the weight of the tray could topple her at any moment, should she take her attention from it.
    “Here, let me get that,” Joe offered, letting his suitcase drop to the floor.
    “Thank you, Joseph.”
    He gingerly reached for the tray, the cups clinking against each other as the exchange was made.
    “Anywhere on the table will do,” she said.
    He slowly turned, holding the tray out, then placed it on a coffee table in the middle of the room. A few books fell to the floor as he slid the tray on.
    “Don’t mind them,” she said. “Sit yourself down.”
    Joe, leaving his suitcase on the floor, approached the sofa against the wall. He shifted various shawls and cushions to make room.
    Eleanor walked to the window, stepping around the objects scattered on the floor with