Bedlam Chapter Sampler

Oh, bloody hell. Abyssinia was still talking. Now Razzia had completely lost track of what was going on. The only thing she knew for sure was that her mascara wasn’t all done, so she went back to applying it. Knowing Abyssinia, she was probably talking about her long- lost-now-recently-recovered son, Caisson. She was always talking about him. Razzia got it. She totally understood. Caisson was family, after all. Nothing more important than family. And it was nice seeing Abyssinia so happy. Those first few weeks, when Caisson didn’t do a whole lot more than have bad dreams while sedated, were the happiest she’d ever seen Abyssinia. She was so proud of her son for sticking it out, for surviving all that pain. It had reinvigorated her, too, having her son around. Suddenly her attention was back on the plan, because the plan secured Caisson’s legacy. That focus had slipped a little, but now it was back on track. In less than two weeks, it would all kick off. Razzia couldn’t wait. She hadn’t killed anyone in ages. But, now that Caisson was up and about, it had quickly become clear to anyone paying attention that he was a weird one. That wasn’t easy for Razzia to admit. She’d always seen herself as the weird one in Abyssinia’s little group of misfits, so to volun- tarily hand over the title to a newcomer – even if he was the long-lost son of the boss – just felt wrong. But there was no denying it: Caisson was an oddball. She couldn’t blame him, of course. He’d been tortured pretty much non-stop for ninety years. That would lead anyone to hop on an imaginary plane and take a sojourn from reality. His flesh was scarred, his silver hair – so like his mother’s – grew only in clumps from a damaged scalp, and his eyes always seemed to be focused on something not quite in front of him, and not quite in the distance. The fact was, though, he could have been a lot worse. According to Caisson, this was all down to his jailer, Serafina.

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