Andrea Daniells and the Cup of Torment - Book 1 (Series 1)

PROLOGUE

Boston, 3/23 1600hrs: Ravenous Estates.

She painted. She painted because it was the only thing she knew would be infinite.

Lilian Follan was considered by many to be a genius.

That was not true. A genius was someone who was twelve years old yet doing their last year in high school. A genius was focused and serious. Lilian's mind was never focused. No, she was not a genius, she was just averagely good in school. She never even considered herself smart. That sounded conceited.

She favoured painting because she knew it would be forever. She always looked at the works of Picasso or Leonardo da Vinci or, her personal favourite, Zeuxis.

And just as she was putting her final touches on her Papillon Bleu Dans Les Zones Grises, her paint got over. Perspiration beaded her face. No...no...

She ran inside the house.

"Mum! Mum! I need to go to the supermarket!"

Mrs. Follan looked at her daughter curiously. "What is it?" she asked.

"My paint got over!"

"Honey, it's just paint."

"Just paint? It isn't just paint! It's a way of acknowledging the world in a contrasting lustre. Each layer is solitary in its own way and each corner is consummate and coruscating. This paint—"

"Okay, okay, I get it!"

"—was very particular indeed as it fed its milieu with passion and heart. To not buy this paint would be equivalent to repudiating me food!"

Mrs. Follan sighed. She didn't understand half of the words her child used.

"You can go. Be careful, Lilian. This is rush hour."

She was already running back out.

"Thank you so much!"

Lilian had to keep the picture in her head, the luminescence of the paint, how it would shine in the most magnificent way...

And a car almost macerated her.

Chicago, Illinois, 3/23 1500hrs: The Matthews' Ranch House.

The doctor left the house.

Matthew Matthews Membrines was left alone again and he wept.

Why is this happening to me? Dr. Brown had left once again and once again his diagnosis had been the same. 'A collection of illnesses far worse than I've ever seen.' 'As if on the last stage of AIDS.' 'Won't make it past a year.'

Same case with his father. Of course, he never knew him. He never saw him. But by the way his mother used to talk about him...

Grieving wouldn't help anyone. He went to feed their animals.

The Matthews-Membrines had cows, they had goats, they had dogs and they had donkeys. But their pride and joy would always be their horses.

Strong, healthy, their horses flourished.

They matched breed after breed and their horses were so great they made sure each had at least three names. Some would say they were obsessed with them.

But not Matthew. Matthew was obsessed with one thing altogether: Books.

Ah, books had their own exciting pleasure, one which made it hard to put down.

In school, some called him a geek, others a nerd. Before, when his mother wasn't sick, it was okay. But having a parent as your only friend never turned out well. The only other companions he had were either books or their animals. That was normal, right?