Chapter 2: DeSilva
Billy the Grim (an original supernatural suspense thriller by Annette J Sharp)
Robert shifts his position in the stiff waiting room chair. Crossing and uncrossing his long legs, eyes darting to an extravagant, oversized, wrought-iron wall clock. Ten minutes have passed since he strategically selected his position in the room. The door of interest is within his line of sight, but not directly in front of him. An intentional choice to avoid unwanted attention when the occupants emerge. Recognition is not his concern, but a lingering impression could be a problem, stimulating curiosity. Something he wishes to avoid, for once in his life.
The voice of a woman draws Robert’s attention to a spot above the upper edge of the magazine he pretends to read. He sucks in his breath at the sight of a young woman emerging through the office door. Tall and attractive, as he would expect, of course. His eyes caress the length of her dark wavy hair, chest tightening at the rising memory of another. Hers, the same burnished gold of a raven’s wing at dusk, when she was young. The bitch! He slashes the vision aside, narrowing his eyes and willing the venom churning in his heart to bring him back to his senses. Sharma Brightly turns in his direction and the magazine slips from his fingers, collapsing to the floor. He yanks off his neck scarf and presses it over his mouth before bending to retrieve it.
His fingers fumble over the slick pages as a pair of feminine loafers enter his purview. He gives a silent admonishment for not choosing a seat deeper inside the horseshoe-shaped waiting area. Of course, superior intellect is no match for the unpredictability of the mentally ill. He had not wished to share space with those who frequent these facilities looking for expensive sympathy. When her feet pass, Robert straightens, leaving the magazine where it lies.
“May I help?” A feminine voice comes over his right shoulder.
Before he can respond, the young woman’s glossy head bobs in front of him. He jerks the silk cravat to his face again, shrinking back in the chair. She scoops up the magazine and holds it out to him. Robert glimpses her smile before seizing into a coughing fit and waving his hand for her to go away.
Sharma hovers a moment longer before setting the magazine onto the ceramic tiled surface of the table next to him.
“Feel better, sir,” she says, her tone kind.
Sharma Brightly glides away without further attempt to engage him, probably fearing whatever contagion he may carry. Robert does not relax until the ding of the elevator and the subsequent sweep of closing doors. He stuffs the kerchief into the breast pocket of his suit, pushes to his feet, and strides through the same door the woman exited. Inside, his long, boney fingers flip the privacy bolt. Robert turns slowly, an involuntary sneer pulling his lips away from thin, sharp teeth at the sight of his brother.
“You fool.” Marcus Woods jerks to his feet and stalks around the desk, shaking his head. “Why don’t you sweep her into a tango the next time you lurk in the waiting room?”
“Says the expert on song and dance these days.”
“What the hell are you doing here?”
“I came to see what the hell you are doing, brother. I am beginning to question your process. As you can see, I am not getting any younger or healthier.”
“She’s almost there. Soon, we will have the information we need. Rushing her will only bring suspicion.”
The doctor turns away, pacing within the worn path in front of his desk. Robert grabs his arm, forcing him to stop and look at him. Head-to-head in height and nearly identical in appearance, yet they could not be more different. Though Robert is only a few years older than Marcus, his features have suffered the ravages of recent illness. The similarities end at their inner constitution. Marcus had always been the gentler, weaker one when they were young. The one Robert could always count on when the whole world misunderstood him. That was before the trouble with Mother.
Things have changed drastically since those days. Robert misses that version of his brother, lost two years ago. Still, a brief glimmer of empathy moves behind the doctor’s eyes, giving him hope that something of his brother’s character remains inside the body. A futile hope, he knows, considering Mother’s harsh influence.
Cold intensity returns to the doctor’s eyes. Robert muses briefly over the curious workings of the mind. Memory, imagination, and reality are often at odds. The subconscious mind, however, does not distinguish a difference, bringing forth the same physiological responses regardless. Marcus grabs his shoulders, shaking him from his thoughts.
“Stop sniveling.” His passion sprays spittle from his lips. “I want this as much as you. More. We have waited twenty-five years for this. Give me a few more days. By week’s end, you will hold the world in the palm of your hand, and I will not only be redeemed but a god in my own right.”
Robert pulls out of Marcus’ grasp, going to the window where slivers of sunlight glimmer through closed blinds. A withered hand reaches to part them and let the sun’s warmth melt away the infernal cold within him. Suicide, of course, with the blood mutations increasing.
Proof the witch says, that her magic is working. He is starting to believe her because he has never felt worse. Something is happening to him, and she had better hope it is the resurgence of ancestral power within him. The holy relic is key to his transformation, to making him an unstoppable force. Immortal. They are so close to attaining their goals, but Robert’s patience is growing thin.
Robert slaps the blinds and turns away from the window. “You have two days.” He stalks past Marcus’ stiff form and reaches the door, pulling it open and pausing without turning around to make his decisive point. “If you fail, I will take matters into my own hands.”
Robert exits, wishing he could slam the door for punctuation of his point and satisfaction of his pride. He’s at the elevator before the hydraulic-hinge finally sighs into a benign click behind him. Robert DeSilva is not a man to let down. His empire and its tentacles of power are limited. He has always known he was meant for more. After twenty-five years of wishful thinking, he will destroy anyone who gets in his way now that he is so close. Including the lovely Sharma Brightly. Perhaps the monstrosity masquerading as his sibling, too, in the end.
Thank you for reading the Prologue to my first full-length supernatural suspense novel, Billy the Grim. A limited number of chapters will be posted for free, for a limited time. The novel is scheduled for release in paperback format only, on May 11, 2026. Support indie authors, buy and review their work. It is the only support they get and the only way they can create more before dying.
This book is bound and determined to become a low-budget movie, either organically animated by an artist, or filmed with real-life unknown actors. Help fund the cause below by buying me a coffee. Thanks