The gemini effect, p.1
The Gemini Effect, page 1
THE GEMINI EFFECT
PAUL KANE
Copyright © 2023 Paul Kane.
All Rights Reserved
Cover by Kevin Spencer
Interior Formatting & Design by Sean Duregger
The characters and events in this book are fictitious. Any similarity to real persons, living, dead or undead is coincidental and not intended by the author.
No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical means, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the publisher, except by a reviewer who may quote brief passages in a review.
CONTENTS
Acknowledgments
Prologue
PART I
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
PART II
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
PART III
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
PART IV
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Epilogue
Author’s Note
About the Author
Also by Paul Kane
PRAISE FOR THE GEMINI FACTOR
‘The Gemini Factor draws on the twins mythology to create a modern-day thriller of supernatural proportions. The plot is both involving and rewarding while the actual storytelling is quite excellent. Paul Kane manages to create a realistic portrayal of victim/killer/hunter without going over the top as many other writers do… a very well-crafted and rewarding novel which I have no hesitation in recommending.’
SCIENCE FICTION & FANTASY
‘What you get within this book are characters who jump off the page, some great dialogue, and a plot that’s as twisted as this author’s mind can conceive, which only adds to this reading experience. Dressed up as a traditional crime novel, it’s the way in which the author has managed to blend Urban Fantasy, a touch of Sci-Fi and mixed it all up with a wicked sense of humour. It’s a cracking title and one that I really had a blast reading.’
FALCATA TIMES
‘Paul Kane’s The Gemini Factor breathes some fresh air into the serial killer subgenre… There’s no doubt in my mind that readers will think they know where Kane is leading them, only to have the rug yanked out from beneath them time and again. Kane’s style is such that you can’t help but turn the page to see what he’s going to do next, and it’s that unpredictability that has earned my readership in the last couple of years. Simply put, the man can tell one hell of an entertaining yarn! If you’re looking for a fun summer read, go grab a copy of The Gemini Factor, and while you’re at it, pick up a couple more of Kane’s books. He hasn’t disappointed me yet, and I’m guessing you’ll enjoy his writing too.’
HORROR DRIVE-IN
‘Paul Kane has created a brilliantly detailed and utterly believable setting – hopefully one that is revisited in later books. The Gemini Factor is a tightly-plotted, well-planned thriller. A disturbing villain stalks a compelling British noir setting, while heroes combine modern forensics and ageless intuition to stop him. Not just something for everyone, but something very good...’
PORNOKITSCH
‘Kane’s no-nonsense writing style makes this book read like a modern crime novel, but anyone aware of his previous work may suspect that there is something more going on than a standard crime thriller, and so there is, although I’ll leave what that is for you to discover. The fatal final twists will leave your head spinning... This is such a fun book to read, so easy, it feels like the story just wraps you up. It’s like reading those other classic genre storytellers King and Koontz. Kane certainly has the pedigree and this crime/genre novel is marvelously well crafted.’
MORPHEUS TALES
‘The reader stays interested from page to page, from beginning to end, as they explore Kane’s well-crafted Norchester, and get to know his heroes as they strive to end the spate of brutal killings. Overall, Paul Kane’s The Gemini Factor offers a very interesting twist on the usual serial killer fiction, with some very, very creepy bits mixed in to keep you thinking about the story for a while afterwards. So, go ahead and pick up this book; get to know a new kind of evil. If you are a twin – sorry; this novel may be particularly disturbing.’
HORRORBOUND
‘I was struck first by the dark poetry of Kane’s writing. Then I was grabbed by the story and the characters… It’s a good story, with good characters and great writing and for all that there is a supernatural aspect, it’s the human element in the book that provides the real horror.’
UN:BOUND
‘Well-written and very atmospheric, especially towards the end. The characterization was excellent, too. I particularly liked Deborah. I have to say that I have a deep prejudice against books featuring twins. I have written a lot about this but it probably just boils down to the fact that I am the mother of twins and dislike the way twins in books are ALWAYS sinister. It’s a tribute to Kane’s book that I could overcome this prejudice and enjoy the story.’
ELLY GRIFFITHS – BESTSELLING AUTHOR OF THE RUTH GALLOWAY THRILLERS, INCLUDING THE CROSSING PLACES, DYING FALL, THE STONE CIRCLE, THE LANTERN MEN AND THE LAST REMAINS
For Michael Jason Stokes & Anna Ray Stokes, who kickstarted the new Gemini adventures. And for Alice, without whom this would never have been written.
ACKNOWLEDGMENTS
My thanks to Mark and Sean at Encyclopocalypse for taking a gamble on this one, a sequel to a book originally written over 20 years ago! Your faith in this project, and indeed so many others, has given me faith too. As always, hugs and massive thank yous to all my friends in the writing and film/TV world, for their continual help and their support in the past. A very special thank you, though, to people like Mike Carey, Robert Shearman, Rio Youers, Neil Gaiman, Adam Nevill, Tim Lebbon, Alison Littlewood, Paul Finch, Simon Clark, Joe Hill, Kelley Armstrong, Stephen Volk and so many more. Finally, a massive thank you to my family, especially my truly wonderful wife Marie – love you more than words can say, sweetheart.
PROLOGUE
Inside the womb, changes had taken place.
Since seed first encountered egg, energising it with life. It had survived, against all the odds, not just the usual problems that might cause a miscarriage, but the traumas which had occurred outside the body. Then the egg split: a consequence of the conception taking place in this particular city, which had – many centuries ago – been a sacred site for ancient religious sects practising bizarre fertility rituals beneath the light of the constellations above.
Suddenly there were two identical eggs, genetically indistinguishable. Exact duplicates that would emerge in something like eight or nine months’ time. Twins. They would be the same in appearance, in looks if not in personality… though they would be more alike than either of them might ever realise. And no matter how ‘individual’ they grew up to be, the fact remained that they’d started off as one.
Inside that womb the developing foetuses had interacted.
They’d nudged and kicked each other, communicating in their own distinct and secret code. Working out which would be the dominant of the two, who would take the most sustenance from the mother. And also probably trying to get back that which they had lost. The wholeness. Nevertheless, they would share a bond with each other that could never be broken. Not by time nor distance, nor even by the blackness and finality of death itself.
But all that was in the future. For now they were just waiting, patiently waiting.
Because the miracle, the natural marvel that still remains a mystery even in these times of scientific wonder and technological achievement, was only really beginning.
The miracle that some refer to as:
The Gemini Effect.
PART I
CHAPTER ONE
The screaming was still ringing in her ears.
Even now, ten, fifteen minutes since she’d left the rest of them behind – back in the club, doing shots. Screaming and crying out for more. When exactly had she become the boring one? Not that she’d ever really been the swinging from the rafters type, dancing on tabletops. Unlike some of her sister’s friends from work (they were known for it in the medical profession, apparently), who weren’t far off doing that tonight if they carried on putting it away like that.
But she’d known how to have a good time, of course she had. Especially back at uni, out with her mates till all hours. That’s where she’d been the night—
All that seemed like a billion years ago now.
It’s called growing up, she said to herself. Having responsibilities. She had an early shift; well, earlyish, around ten in the morning. Plus she was an assistant manager now, had to put her best foot forward, as her dad was always so fond of saying.
Felicity Bailey, ‘Flick’ to her friends, pulled her jacket tighter around herself until it was almos t a hug, and sighed. Continued walking down the street, the clacking of her high heels accompanying her.
They were just blowing off steam, had a stressful job. Not that hers was exactly walking on sunshine, but you couldn’t really compare making sure beds were made and breakfast ran on time to counselling people with PTSD, who’d been through traumatic events. And her sister, Trisha, was perfectly suited to that, having been through a trauma herself when she was younger. One of the worst things anyone could ever go through…
She should be happy for her, especially now. Felicity should have been joining in with the fun and games back there: the giant inflatable penises and male strippers; the Prosecco and Jägerbombs. Their mum had gone home hours ago, after the meal at the Italian place – the more civilised part of the evening – or she’d have gone demented at their hijinks. They’d never really approved of things like that, their mum and dad. It’d taken a lot of persuasion to let their daughters move out and go to uni, and even then it had only been on the other side of town. If they saw that performance back there, regardless of the fact ‘the girls’ were both approaching thirty now, they’d drag them back home and keep them locked up until they were maiden aunts.
Such old-fashioned views! Although wasn’t Felicity the one who’d jumped ship before it was even half-eleven tonight? Was she getting more like her parents the older she got? No, it wasn’t that.
Face it, she said to herself, this is jealousy. Pure and simple. Felicity knew it, Trisha knew it. That had always been the case, hadn’t it. Not just with guys in general, because Trisha had certainly had a few boyfriends – was definitely luckier in that department than Flick – but with one in particular. Danny. Danny Sirk.
Mr and Mrs—
She’d been the one who’d looked after her sister when they’d split up, not long after they’d graduated. Danny had said they were growing apart, wanted different things from life – at twenty-bloody-one! He wanted to travel more, for instance, get away from that city, and she was staying put, mainly because of the pressure from their folks. But if they were both being honest it was the thing they’d gone through together, that trauma. It had brought them closer at first, and then…
“I don’t know what I’m going to do without him. I feel so alone,” Trisha had wept into Felicity’s shoulder, and she’d held her. Said to her, because it was true:
“You’re not alone. You’ll always have me.”
They’d always have each other; always had and always would. Since birth, as a matter of fact. The strongest bond there could ever be, even stronger than the one they had with their parents. Much stronger actually, because you couldn’t share everything with them. She’d seen Trisha through all of that heartache, been proud of her when she went on to become a trainee counselling psychologist at the local hospital, then had built her career up from there. No need for that poxy part-time job at the café now.
And Trisha had been proud of her sister, too, as she’d struggled to put her own art degree to use and ultimately had to rely more and more on work at The Imperial Hotel. “You can always circle back to it, sis,” was Trisha’s sage advice. That or maybe go into teaching, which was something Felicity would have hated. Or art therapy? A failure, was how she saw it, her dreams of having exhibitions and selling her work for a fortune growing dimmer by the year.
Not a bad thing to have money behind you, was her parents’ mantra. A stable job, with career prospects. She was luckier than most folk in this day and age, and deep down Felicity knew it. Just not lucky in love. Never lucky with that.
Unlike Trisha, who’d played the field a little – nothing serious, which was why Flick hadn’t really got bent out of shape about it – only to bump into Danny again not eight months ago, though whether that had been intentional on his part Felicity still wasn’t entirely sure. They’d certainly bumped into each other a lot more since then, and in more ways than one.
“Are you really sure about this?” she’d asked Trisha once on the phone – the phone, because she was seeing less and less of her sister now Danny was back on the scene. “After what happened last time?”
“I’m sure,” she’d said emphatically. “We’ve both done a lot of growing up since uni, Flick.”
Felicity harrumphed. Not from where she’d been sitting tonight, as Trisha was oiling up the guy who’d come dressed as a doctor in a white coat (which had soon been discarded in favour of a set of tiny trunks the same colour). Grown up? Hardly. That was what she’d had to do when her dreams and ambitions had been shattered.
But that wasn’t fair, was it. This was a one-off, a special occasion – and the whole blowing off steam thing. Trauma. Dealing with trauma. With people who were dealing with trauma. They were allowed to have a little fun, surely? Especially as…
“I’m getting married!” a drunken Trisha had screamed in her ear a little earlier at the bar. “Can you believe it? I’m getting married!”
Oh, Felicity could believe it all right. She’d had to put up with months of her family talking about nothing else. Plus which, she was the one arranging the reception. Putting those artistic leanings to good use, so Trisha said, helping to sort out what kind of decorations they were having, where to put the tables for the best effect.
“Wass… wassup?” Trisha had asked then, probably seeing the way she’d scrunched up her face.
Felicity had shaken her head. “Nothing. Nothing’s up.”
And her sister had looked at her sideways, knew exactly what was wrong. Had known it since Danny had returned. Since she’d announced the engagement. The jealousy thing. Had even told her not to worry, because pulling at weddings was virtually a rule for the Maid of Honour, right? “We’ll find you someone nice,” Trisha had promised.
Like she needed someone to do that. Like she needed pity. She got enough of that from their parents, her mum already cooing about grandchildren – “I’m glad someone’s got their act together in that department. I was beginning to wonder if I’d ever get them!” Her dad playing best mate with Danny, off to the football with him every Saturday. And this after they’d called him every name under the sun when he dumped Trisha. Turncoats.
“Why can’t you juss… jusss be happy for me?” Trisha had said next, a little sadly.
“I… I am,” she’d lied.
“No.” Trisha hiccupped. “No you’re nosh, you’ve got a face like a wet bank hol-holiday.”
Felicity had shrugged.
Trisha flapped her hand and said, “Aww, bloody piss off then!” She’d done another shot, turned her back on Felicity and danced back over to her friends.
It was a valid question. Why couldn’t she be happy for her?
She’d tried, was trying. Would continue to try. But tonight… Tonight she’d just had to bail after that, before they started rowing. At her own sister’s hen do, Christ!
Not that anyone would notice, she’d told herself, except that she knew full well Trisha would. Might. If she wasn’t under a table somewhere by now, that was.
More often than not knew everything about what happened to each other; always had. Knew if they were injured, if they were sad, if they were sleeping with someone. If they were blissfully happy. Like Trisha was, like Felicity knew Trisha was.
