|SLATE| RETRIBUTION Read online

  Erin Swann

  SLATE RETRIBUTION

  Copyright © 2021 by Erin Swann

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording, scanning, or otherwise without written permission from the publisher. It is illegal to copy this book, post it to a website, or distribute it by any other means without permission.

  First edition

  This book was professionally typeset on Reedsy

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  Contents

  SLATE RETRIBUTION

  Copyright

  Dedicated to

  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

  CHAPTER 37

  Acknowledgements

  SLATE RETRIBUTION

  SLATE

  RETRIBUTION

  Book 1 in the SLATE series

  Copyright

  SLATE RETRIBUTION

  Book 1 of the Slate Series

  Copyright © Emery Hale 2021

  First Edition: August 2021

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, transmitted or stored in a retrieval system in any form or by any means without permission in writing from the copyright owner, nor otherwise circulated in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published and without similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.

  This book is a work of fiction. All characters in this publication are fictitious, and any resemblance to real people, alive or dead, is purely coincidental.

  Edited by Sam Boyce

  Author Photo by Justyna Makuch

  For any information please contact:

  [email protected]

  Dedicated to

  For wee Mrs Lennox

  To one of my many inspirational teachers, you can never know how much that second year writing class on a Friday afternoon meant to me. Even though the stories I came out with then were a little . . . dubious.

  You are the reason I continued to pursue my career as a writer, and you gave me the confidence to do so. All I can say is thank you. Teachers are a huge part of any person’s life because when you look back, anyone and everyone has a great story about a teacher.

  P.s. The story about Mr Ferguson dressing up as Holly Willoughby and dancing to ‘Let’s Get Ready to Rumble’ or the entire PE department dressing up like Baywatch.

  Thank you.

  CHAPTER 1

  Drapetomania

  The overwhelming urge to run away.

  NAOMI JADE

  18th June 2016, 17:04

  Scotland, Edinburgh, The Reign Academy, Control Room

  That night defined chaos.

  I remember shuddering as his brutal voice barked down the phone, the violent tremor in his hand returning. The forsaken woman stood stoic in the corner, biting her lip in agitation, any lingering hope in her eyes slowly burning out. The soldier gripped the table, her nails scratching into its surface as the sound of bullets cascaded from the speakers. The doctor paced back and forth in her blood-soaked scrubs, watching the entire spectacle on the large monitor ahead, observing and listening as the bullets echoed her own frantic heartbeat. The pariah never spoke a word.

  I did nothing. What could I do? I wasn’t trained, not like them.

  She was my friend and I stood there, doing nothing.

  Phones rang from all directions but no one answered, not now. No one could tear themselves away from the monitor as the spectacle unfolded. They’d all witnessed this countless times – in this job, who hadn’t?

  ‘She needs the evac team now!’ the brutal voice roared, his dark hair masking his eyes.

  I couldn’t even bear to imagine the emotions that lurked there: rage, pain, betrayal?

  His hand clenched into a fist and catapulted the phone down in a blind rage, cracking it off the hardwood desk. ‘They won’t get there for another half hour, she’s too deep in.’

  ‘Is there any way we can contact her?’ the doctor demanded.

  ‘No, the comms have been wiped out.’

  ‘How did that happen?’

  ‘Wait, give me a minute . . . Oh, that’s right, I don’t know because I’m not a fuckin mind reader!’ Blind rage, blind panic, they felt like the same thing.

  What could I do to help? She was out there alone, running for her life, and I’d promised I would never let that happen; not again.

  Her ragged breaths scratched through the speakers, the little falters in her voice crystal clear, while the camera on her jacket provided the perfect view to the monitor. A perfect view of what exactly?

  ‘You’re really not helping!’ the soldier exclaimed.

  ‘Could you not tear each other’s throats out for one minute?’

  ‘She’ll be OK – it’s not like this hasn’t happened before,’ he muttered.

  ‘Shut up!’ the doctor yelled. ‘She’s trying to say something!’

  ‘I need evac now, I can’t shake this guy!’

  The perfect view.

  Then came the bang, the stumble, the fall, the thud – and then nothing.

  My eyes felt like glass had pierced straight through, embedding deep inside, slicing away at the images in front of me. I didn’t want to watch, I couldn’t, not when it was her.

  ‘God, no,’ the forsaken woman pleaded, hands falling limp at her side. ‘God, please no.’

  ‘Lilith, come in,’ the soldier ordered, taking a step forward, the tips of her fingers pressed to the comm unit in her ear. ‘Team Leader, come in.’

  Then we waited, for a shred of evidence that would prove the inevitable.

  All we could see from the angle of the camera was grass, raw thick blades that jutted and cut into the lens.

  This happens, she’d told me. This always happens, it only ends one way in this kind of work.

  Abruptly the camera jostled, bitter blades of grass crunching as it turned.

  ‘Who is that?’

  From what I could make out there was a figure, dark clothing – no! I couldn’t watch this.

  I hissed in a breath as a sharp pain sliced through my hand like a dagger, warm liquid flowing from my palm, my own clawing nails the culprit. I watched the first drop drip from my hand, gravity taking over as it plummeted to the floor.

  BANG

  Static, crackling, no movement and no background noise. Not one of us spoke a word.

  Then even the static stopped as the monitor collapsed into darkness. It was as if someone had shut it off, like someone would turn off the blaring drone of a flatlining heart monitor.

  The only light in the room came from the lamps on the desks: to me, they flickered under the crippling tension that bore down on my shoulders, crushing into the bone.

  ‘Jess?’ the soldier asked once more, but this time her ey
es were filled with nothing but dread, as she used her Team Lead’s actual name.

  The soldier wouldn’t believe this was real, not until she had seen proof – or was that me? I looked away. Was I a coward?

  ‘Jess, can you hear me?’

  Was I a coward? Yes, I was.

  I turned on my feet as I tried to breathe, the blood in my palm turning cold. I closed my eyes, trying to think of anything else, anything but her. My hand pressed against the door.

  She’d warned me, she told me to leave.

  Now I was on my own, what the hell was I supposed to do? I couldn’t do this alone.

  ‘Agent down,’ he said. ‘Agent Jessica-Grace Winters inactive.’

  Inactive. Down. Dead.

  CHAPTER 2

  Epoch

  A period of time; a specific period of life.

  NAOMI JADE

  12th June 2015, 17:25

  Scotland, Glasgow, Buchanan Street

  I was caught amid the whirlwind of people commonly known as the Friday evening rush; everyone fighting against the tide.

  Some marching towards the nearest bar while others headed deeper into the city for some well-deserved retail therapy. We were the latter – prom and exams were over, high school had finished and we’d decided we were in dire need of new clothes, shoes, and – of course – handbags. ‘We’ being the four of us: Katie, Jennifer, Allie and myself.

  Unfortunately, now school was over I had to make my own way in the world and face the crucial fact that I was skint. There was no way I could afford anything from today’s shopping trip, considering these girls were only interested in brand names – a.k.a. the really expensive shit.

  Katie loved clothes the most; it was all she ever talked about, and even more so since that lingerie shop opened in the city centre. I never knew anyone could get so excited over thongs and body glitter. Shoes were another subject: Katie’s parents were loaded so she always had the newest pair of Gucci trainers or Chanel heels. Even though it gave her some class and taste, it sadly didn’t negate the fact she was a two-faced bitch.

  Now Naomi, why would you hang out with this girl? Well because I had to, since befriending the popular kids at school meant somewhat of an easy ride.

  There was also Jennifer, who wasn’t bad to talk to but did have a tendency to spill everyone’s secrets the moment she had a chance to blame it on the alcohol.

  Allie was the only nice person in the trio, but for some reason she was happy playing best friends forever. She was too nice, which was something I could never wrap my head around. Perhaps she was in the same boat as me.

  I didn’t start hanging out with them until around a year and a half ago but since then, we’ve become really close friends.

  ‘Hey!’ Katie snapped angrily. ‘Naomi, you’re not even listening to me. God I’ve been trying to – you drive me crazy, you idiot. I don’t even know why I invited you.’

  OK, so when I said close . . . I swear she’s nicer when you get to know her, she’s just been in a bad mood recently.

  ‘Sorry,’ I said quickly, ‘zoned out for a sec.’

  ‘Just shut up, yeah? I really don’t care.’ Katie retorted, just as fast as I had spoken.

  I glanced over to Allie and Jennifer but they were too busy mindlessly staring at their phones, before suddenly, like a pig on helium –

  ‘Oh, that’s too funny!’ Allie laughed.

  As we walked down the slope that was Buchanan Street I noticed Katie had started to push people out the way: she probably thought any surface gracing her presence was a catwalk.

  ‘He was just –’ Another fit of laughter from the pair, and this time it was so loud that people actually started to stare.

  God this was embarrassing. Passers-by actually looked up from their own conversations when they heard my friends.

  ‘And then he –’ Jennifer clenched her Starbucks in hand before bursting out into her own pig squeal.

  They were the definition of the basic popular girls at school and for some reason, in my off-trend style and beat-up Converse, I stood with them.

  Why do you hang around with these people, Naomi? Oh yeah, cause you’re rubbish at standing up for yourself and finding some decent friends. I didn’t know how much more of their irritating voices I could take. Katie snapped constantly, Jennifer was like a walking talking venomous gossip machine and Allie was always busy on her phone.

  I missed the good old days, when Jess and I would go into town and spend the entire day shopping and testing the chocolate cake in all the cafés. But then she got the scholarship of her dreams and all of that stopped. Occasionally we texted but not for long, she was always busy these days. I couldn’t help but think I’d done something wrong; she was an entirely different person to the one I knew three years ago.

  When I emerged from my train of thought I realised I’d followed the girls into a make-up shop. It was modern with black marble flooring and pure white walls, not a stain in sight. At one side, mirrors were built into the walls, as well as a vanity table with various brushes in cute little pots. The make-up itself started at foot level, stretching up to the ceiling where small circular lights shone brightly. The checkout counter sat at the back, with small clear bowls filled with mini-sized items and gift cards, chart music humming in the background.

  Only one woman in her mid-twenties stood behind the counter, her sharp black hair falling by her shoulders and dagger-like eyeliner standing out from a mile away. She had piercings and wore a black t-shirt with the shop name Beauty Secrets printed in the centre, content in her own thoughts as she sorted through the till.

  Katie didn’t hesitate for a moment, marching straight over to the lipstick section. Given the amount of times she reapplies the stuff on a night out, I wouldn’t be surprised if she bought it in bulk. Allie and Jennifer made a bee-line for the mirrors, snapping countless selfies, pouting their lips like there was no tomorrow. Since the basic squad were busy with . . . themselves, I headed through the shop and decided to look at the eyeliner, since I needed a new one anyway. I found a black one at the bottom of the shelf which was surprisingly cheap.

  I stood up, pushing my messy dark hair from my face, trying to remember if the brand name was any good, when a shadow slipped to my side. I jumped back as soon as a cold, slender hand pressed on my shoulder.

  ‘Do you need any help?’ the jump-scare woman asked with a charming smile, casually returning her hand to her jeans pocket. ‘Need any recommendations?’

  ‘Oh, n-no thanks.’ I stuttered, holding up the eyeliner like a prize. Yeah well done Naomi, you picked some makeup, not like it’s hard.

  ‘You know that’s the sample, right?’

  I glanced down to the eyeliner and saw the white label with the word SAMPLE written in big bold letters. For the love of – seriously? My thoughts must have been written clear as day because the next thing I knew, the woman’s hand was on my arm, rubbing small circles into the skin which, weirdly enough, soothed me.

  ‘Hey it’s OK,’ she said softly. ‘We all have those days. Trust me, I’ve had my fair share. My name’s Megan.’

  She leaned down and grabbed another eyeliner for me, swapping it for the one in my hand.

  ‘Come on, I’ll put it through for you.’ She indicated to the checkout behind us.

  Megan withdrew her hand before heading behind the counter and scanning the liner. I noticed her painted ring-finger nail, a pastel shade with delicate yellow flowers. The only reason I took interest was because all her other nails were bare.

  ‘I like your nail design,’ I told her, she looked back to me with a small smile.

  ‘Aw, thanks love, took so long to do, messed up who knows how many times. Anyway the eyeliner comes to –’

  ‘Naomi, we’re leaving,’ Katie cut in pointedly from the front of the shop, cocking her hip.

  Oh God, not this again.

  She wasn’t waiting, she was demanding I move. A few strangers browsing at the shelves threw their glances between
us, like we were some sort of deranged tennis match. There weren’t many people in the shop to begin with, but that didn’t make the drop to complete silence any better.

  ‘I’m just paying for this quickly,’ I tried, but Katie wasn’t amused.

  ‘You don’t need that. It’s a cheap knock-off. Let’s go.’ Katie said, her voice filled with disgust as she looked around the shop one final time. ‘Naomi. Now.’

  I sighed, embarrassment flooding right back. It was like we were in high school all over again.

  ‘Yeah, uh . . . I’m just going to leave this, thanks,’ I said, but my voice came out shrivelled and quiet, lips practically quivering.

  Megan had opened her mouth in what I assumed was a protest but before she could speak, I was already walking away.

  I shouldn’t have let Katie order me around or make me feel so small and spineless. I did what she told me to and said what she dictated. Everyone in that shop must have thought I was one hell of a pushover.

  Katie strutted out the shop flipping her hair over her shoulder, Allie and Jennifer following close behind, their faces still shoved into their phones. While I tottered at the back, the runt of the litter.

  Slowly but surely my arms wrapped around my torso. I felt as if I couldn’t be any smaller.

  I wanted to march over to Katie, scream and yell some sense into her, before going back and buying the damn eyeliner. I wanted to shout to the heavens about how miserable Katie and her merry band of bitches made my life!

  Oh, if only I could.

  Jessica would have, she’d happily smack Katie. She hated her – actually that’s wrong, she despised her intensely.

  A loud ping sounded from my phone, but when I looked down it was nothing but a news notification. There was no need to read it, the headline was clear enough.

  YOUNG STUDENT KILLED IN HIT AND RUN