A State Of Sin Amsterdam Occult Series Book Two by Mark Hobson (golden son ebook .TXT) 📕

your quarry out into the open. If they run to ground amongst the krantzes or in the bush or on the savannah, then it will prove very difficult, but if you can track them down and scare them into bolting, into leaving their hiding spot, then nine times out of ten you’ll have them. And in that moment when they are caught in your sights or you have them cornered, you have to stay calm no matter how tired you are or how cold or hungry you might feel, no matter how much your heart is racing. But when you strike you have to strike fast, like a scorpion.”

Johan Roost’s hand whipped out lightning-fast, his fist clenched tight around the handle of the hunting knife, the blade stopping millimetres short of Bart’s neck. Bart froze in fear, wondering if his uncle was going to slit his gizzard wide open. The silence stretched out, like the hot afternoon was holding its breath.

Then there came a burst of laughter from the others gathered on the verandah, and a slow lop-sided grin appeared on his uncle’s sun-tanned features. Bart watched as he flipped the knife up, seeing it spin in mid-air, and then deftly caught it again and slipped it back into the sheaf on his waist belt. The big hand came up and patted him on the cheek and Bart gave a nervous little high-pitched laugh.

It was the eve of Bart’s eighteenth birthday, and on the morrow, his uncle was taking him hunting in some silly rite of passage into manhood. The family had gathered on the front porch of Johan’s lodge to enjoy dinner and drink beer and wine, to watch the sun go down below the peaks of the mountain range.

His mother and younger sister were with them. After their meal the two of them had set up a small folding table to play cards, while the men, Bart and his uncle, chatted about men’s stuff, although truth be told Bart would rather be joining in with their game of blackjack.

Now Famke turned towards him and leaned forward, dipping her face so that it was level with his own and making him look at her.

“Tomorrow is a big occasion for you Bart. Not every young man like you gets to do something like this. Back home, we live in a big city where people go about their nice lives, driving around in their fancy cars or shopping for luxury goods. People forget their heritage, their roots, their beginnings. They grow soft and fat.”

She poked playfully at his tubby stomach.

“But not us. Your Uncle very kindly invited us out here, to our mother country to reconnect with nature. It’s a wonderful opportunity for you, a privilege indeed. So do you have something you want to say to your uncle? We talked about it on the plane remember?”

Bart gave a tiny nod and turned his gaze towards his Uncle Johan, who was sitting back in his chair and drinking his beer.

“Thank you,” he mumbled shyly, “thank you, Uncle.”

Johan Roost slapped him on the knee and then cuffed him gently on the chin with his fist.

“Don’t mention it boy! Here, have a drink.” He thrust a beer bottle into Bart’s podgy hands and clinked his own bottle against it. “Cheers! It will be thirsty work tomorrow, so we men should have a few sun-downers first, what do you say?”

Bart gave a tiny smile, and drank from the bottle, but mostly just sipped at the froth.

Suddenly his sister dropped her hand of cards facedown onto the green baize of the card table, drawing their attention, and she looked around at them all with a sulky expression and a pet lip.

“It’s not fair,” said eleven year old Charlotte, crossing her arms over her chest. “I want to come too.”

Johan and Famke exchanged a glance, and Bart caught his sister’s eye and looked away.

“Now you know that’s not possible, dear,” her mother told her. “This is your brother’s big day. A day for the men only.”

“But why not?” Lotte insisted. “I can do things the same as Bart. Better even.” She scowled at her brother.

“Your mother’s right. The hunt will be no place for a young lady. It will be a long and tiring day, out in the sun and with the dust in our eyes, driving in the pickup with Dalton. They’ll be blood and bad smells and all kinds of nasty things, plus it will be dangerous. One false move, one lapse of your concentration, and it could cost you a broken arm or leg, maybe worse. Isn’t that right Bart?”

Bart nodded, but wishing he could swap places with Lotte and stay home tomorrow to help his mother.

Lotte turned her face away and stared angrily out at the farm, her eyes brimming with tears.

Johan sighed. He had no children of his own, and this visit by his sister with her family was a stark reminder of that. He liked the boy, cared for him dearly, and he was determined to try and bring him out of his shell and toughen him up because he was just too soft for his own good. But the girl. There was something about her that he found hard to resist. His niece could be a little madam at times, a real drama queen, but she had a side to her nature that, well, it melted his heart if truth be told. Which was silly! But she had a spark, a toughness to her that was severely lacking in her older brother. Johan, basically, doted on her.

“Listen,” Johan said to her now, “you could come along with us tonight, if you like? If your mother says it’s ok. What do you say?”

He glanced at Famke, who nodded and gave a shrug.

Lotte turned to him, a big smile lighting up her face.

The nearest large town was Mooi River, a sixty-minute drive away along unlit dirt tracks.

All three of them sat up front, with Lotte crammed in the middle. She