Drew Thomas The Conjuring Novels & Stories

It’s a while before my hands stop shaking and my neck stops throbbing. “I think that’s enough,” Drew says and moves to switch off the video but I stop him. Forcing myself to look past my bleeding body on the floor, I concentrate on the other person that joins Father and Mr. Meyer who is standing protectively in front of Don. I hold my breath as the person comes fully into view. For a brief moment they turn towards the camera which enable me to see their face. It’s- Thomas? The kind smiles he had showered on me earlier at the party was gone. And in place of it was this sinister look that marred his otherwise handsome face as he stared down at where my body lay.

It was the next day, about ten o'clock at night. He was so excited his breath was coming hard; it was like the first time that he'd smoked pot. He'd drawn the pentagram on the floor. Thomas stood in the pentagram and grabbed his penis, pleasure went through his body as he thought about the bitch goddess. His cock was as hard as a rock thinking about the devil girl. "She's so evil," he said to himself. Thomas said the conjure words and stood staring at one of the candles that were placed about the room, "This has been fun even if nothing happens."

Elizabeth said showing him the next page of the book that contained descriptions of the necromancers and drawings of a Celtic necromancer. “And that’s one of our theories of what could be happening here, to Crawley.” Thomas spoke with determination “we have our type of undead, we have three leads and time to figure this out”.

The last showing the woman’s head severed, held in the air as her blood ran down the beasts face. Reaching over I closed the book. “I think we get the idea.” I told Nicolas as he visibly turned green. His glossy eyes meet mine and without a word I knew where his mind had drifted. The aftermath of these drawings bringing back vivid memories of the cave we found the remnants of Thea’s family in. Thomas, who had disappeared into a side room appeared holding several other books. His cheerful expression vastly out of place for the somber room. “I think I found something.” He announced proudly handing each one of us a small notebook.

“Creed’s silence isn't a strategy. It’s fear. He knows something’s coming. And it’s already here.” I clenched my teeth as the needle sank into my arm. The fire inside me flared—then dimmed. Finally, a breath I hadn’t realised I was holding slipped from my chest. “And you think this… whatever it is… It’s unnatural?” “I think it’s something we haven’t seen before,” Thomas said. “Not magic. Not a disease. Something older.” I stared at the glowing vials. “You said I was your last hope.” He nodded. “You complete this job, you’re free. No more debts.”

“Well you will and I'm going to give the same answer. No matter how many of you come in here to question me, my answers are not going to change. I didn't kill my brother.” “I'm sorry for the way my colleague treated you. Procedures.” Thomas explained. He extended his hand towards DJ. “I'm Thomas. DCS central London district, but I'm covering this case as it connects to a pending case I'm dealing with.” DJ eyed Thomas outstretched and with suspicion. Reluctantly, he took his hand and shook him very briefly. “I'm not here to grill you as you think.” DJ scoffed. “Doesn't look like it.” He said in a tone dripping with sarcasm.

The physical proof that his nephew was everything he’d feared. “This was drawn where?” “Throne room, sir. Just before midnight. I was… replacing the candles. In the sconces. The shadows were dark, and I—” Thomas’s voice came out in a rush, words stumbling over each other. “I saw them, and I got out my charcoal because I thought, if there was ever proof needed, I should..” “Excellent work,” Marcus said quietly. Thomas’s shoulders sagged with relief.

"Thank you, Jackson. We'll be there." "Also," Jackson continued, his expression growing more serious, "Uncle Mateo asked me to tell you that they've begun interrogating Thomas's captured followers. There's been some... concerning intelligence." Maison tensed beside me. "What kind of intelligence?" Jackson glanced down the hallway, ensuring we were alone. "Apparently, Thomas wasn't working alone. He had a partner—someone higher up in the supernatural hierarchy than we initially thought." "Higher than an Alpha?" I asked, confusion and concern mingling. "Who could possibly—"

Goddess, even in death that woman was plaguing me with her problems. Grace was up there with my son, being a fucking manipulative cry baby, like always. Duke was falling for it like the idiot he always was. That needed sorting but first, I had to find that stupid letter. After quietly tearing through the house, I found a locked drawer in Thomas' room. I looked at Thomas and saw the key attached to a chain around his neck. "Cheers, old boy" I chuckled and opened the drawer, almost shouting in delight when I found what I was looking for.

Then he sighed and told me. “The spiritual healer.” Thomas said it as if saying the words burned him. “He was a loose end, Sarah. He knew too much after the curse backfired. He could the door that connects dots back to us. To you.” He spat the last word. He did not say “me.” He said “you” like it was cleaner. My skin went cold. The world narrowed. “You had him—killed?” I asked. Thomas nodded. “Yes. I had a man take care of it. Made it look like suicide. I had them drag his body away like an animal.” He shrugged. “No traces. No link.”