Anthem of Survival

By Thom Collins

Will they ever escape the past?

Revenge casts a long shadow.

Following two prior attempts on their lives, Daniel and Elijah are together and stronger than ever. Their relationship has weathered the toughest elements and survived. Physically and emotionally scarred, the bond between them can't be broken. One year on from the devastating events in Anthem of the Dark they have reassessed their priorities and want to spend time out of the spotlight.

Elijah has quit his stand-up career to focus on his new passion: training to be a chef. But for Daniel, there are too many questions he desperately needs answers to. Like who orchestrated the violence in Blackpool a year ago? Whose hatred of him runs so deep they're ruthlessly prepared to hurt innocent by-standers? He teams up with journalist Keeley Rank to uncover the facts.

Though the truth is well hidden, it is closer than anyone thinks. Someone wants revenge. Someone intent on destroying Daniel anyway she can. When Daniel and Elijah attend a fundraising gala for a victim support charity they are unaware they are about to face their most perilous situation yet. Vengeance is a deadly game and not everyone will survive.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Pride Publishing
• Release date: Dec 25, 2018
• ISBN: 9781786516992

Thom Collins

Thom Collins is the author of Closer by Morning, with Pride Publishing. His love of page turning thrillers began at an early age when his mother caught him reading the latest Jackie Collins book and promptly confiscated it, sparking a life-long love of raunchy novels. Thom has lived in the North East of England his whole life. He grew up in Northumberland and now lives in County Durham with his husband and two cats. He loves all kinds of genre fiction, especially bonkbusters, thrillers, romance and horror. He is also a cookery book addict with far too many titles cluttering his shelves. When not writing he can be found in the kitchen trying out new recipes. He’s a keen traveler but with a fear of flying that gets worse with age, but since taking his first cruise in 2013 he realized that sailing is the way to go.

Book preview

Author

Pride Publishing books by Thom Collins

Single title

Closer by Morning

Silent Voices

Anthem

Anthem of the Sea

Anthem of the Dark

Anthologies

Brothers in Arms: Gods of Vengeance

Right Here, Right Now: The Coach

Anthem

ANTHEM OF SURVIVAL

THOM COLLINS

Anthem of Survival

ISBN # 978-1-78651-699-2

©Copyright Thom Collins 2018

Cover Art by Cherith Vaughan ©Copyright December 2018

Interior text design by Claire Siemaszkiewicz

Pride Publishing

This is a work of fiction. All characters, places and events are from the author’s imagination and should not be confused with fact. Any resemblance to persons, living or dead, events or places is purely coincidental.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any material form, whether by printing, photocopying, scanning or otherwise without the written permission of the publisher, Pride Publishing.

Applications should be addressed in the first instance, in writing, to Pride Publishing. Unauthorised or restricted acts in relation to this publication may result in civil proceedings and/or criminal prosecution.

The author and illustrator have asserted their respective rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Acts 1988 (as amended) to be identified as the author of this book and illustrator of the artwork.

Published in 2018 by Pride Publishing, United Kingdom.

No part of this book may be reproduced, scanned, or distributed in any printed or electronic form without permission. Please do not participate in or encourage piracy of copyrighted materials in violation of the authors’ rights. Purchase only authorised copies.

Pride Publishing is an imprint of Totally Entwined Group Limited.

If you purchased this book without a cover you should be aware that this book is stolen property. It was reported as unsold and destroyed to the publisher and neither the author nor the publisher has received any payment for this stripped book.

Book three in the Anthem series

Will they ever escape the past?

Revenge casts a long shadow.

Following two prior attempts on their lives, Daniel and Elijah are together and stronger than ever. Their relationship has weathered the toughest elements and survived. Despite their physical and emotional scars, the bond between them can’t be broken. One year on from the devastating events in Anthem of the Dark, they have reassessed their priorities and want to spend time out of the spotlight.

Elijah has quit his stand-up career to focus on his new passion—training to be a chef. But for Daniel, there are too many questions he needs answers to. Like who orchestrated the violence in Blackpool a year ago? Whose hatred of him runs so deep they’re prepared to hurt innocent bystanders? He teams up with journalist Keeley Rank to uncover the facts.

Though the truth is well hidden, it is closer than anyone thinks. Someone wants revenge. Someone intent on destroying Daniel any way she can. When Daniel and Elijah attend a fundraising gala for a victim support charity, they are unaware they are about to face their most perilous situation yet. Vengeance is a deadly game and not everyone will survive.

Dedication

For my husband, Liam.

Trademark Acknowledgements

The author acknowledges the trademarked status and trademark owners of the following wordmarks mentioned in this work of fiction:

Facebook: Facebook, Inc.

Hilton: Hilton Hospitality, Inc.

Blackpool Gazette:

Mini: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft

BMW: Bayerische Motoren Werke Aktiengesellschaft Corporation

Twitter: Twitter, Inc.

XTube: MG Billing Limited

Instagram: Instagram, LLC

The One Show: BBC One

Taser: Taser International, Inc.

Coke: The Coca-Cola Company

Poldark: Horsfield, Debbie

Doctor Who: Newman, Sydney; Webber, C.E.; Wilson, Donald

James Bond: Fleming, Ian

Strictly: Vardanis, Fenia; Hopkins, Richard; Smith, Karen

Emmerdale: Yorkshire Television

Younger Than Springtime: Rodgers and Hammerstein

South Pacific: Rodgers and Hammerstein

Carry On Films: Hadis, Norman; Rothwell, Talbot

Hammer Horror: Hinds, William; Carreras, James

Prologue

It was the hottest ticket in town. Lady Lynda, the smash-hit musical at the London Palladium, starring Daniel Blake and Max LaFranchi. The critics dubbed them the Dream Team. Demand to see Daniel and Max in their limited twelve-week run had been phenomenal. The last chance to see the pair together in the show that had made headlines for the right—and the wrong—reasons. Tickets exchanged hands for hundreds, sometimes thousands of pounds more than their face value. Lady Lynda would go on without them, with a new cast of big names, but it wouldn’t be the same. The Dream Team had captured the hearts of the capital.

The ticket frenzy for their final performance was like no other. The woman in the center of the stalls had paid almost two thousand pounds for her seat. It was worth it, she reasoned. Every penny. She had seen the show three times already, but she couldn’t miss this. Not the last night.

The sense of expectation, of excitement was palpable as the auditorium filled around her. The audience was about to see a piece of history. No one had predicted the show would continue after its ill-fated run in Blackpool, when Daniel Blake had almost fallen victim to the murderer Sonny Rock. Sonny had killed twice already when he’d gained access to Daniel’s hotel room, intending to kill again. But Daniel had survived and, against all expectations, announced his intention to play the role in London. He was a hero. Everyone wanted a piece of him. For twelve weeks and the price of a ticket, the public had their chance.

The woman in the stalls wanted more than a few hours of entertainment, or a firsthand glimpse of celebrity. Each time she saw the show, she took little notice of the story, the jokes or the catchy songs that had won the production a host of awards and five-star reviews. No. She fixed her attention on Daniel, nothing else. Watching, concentrating, planning. Totally focused.

She knew what she wanted to do. What she had to do.

The plan was already in place.

As the lights fell, and the audience went wild around her, she stayed still and quiet, watching the stage, waiting for him to enter. When he did, thirteen minutes into the first act, her hands, placed on her lap, tightened into fists. One glimpse of him was all it took to convince her.

The anger remained. Her hatred for him was still alive.

The pain she’d endured for so long had festered and hurt more than ever.

Daniel Blake did not deserve this applause. He had no right to the adulation.

Daniel Blake should be dead.

He soon would be.

She would make certain of that.

Chapter One

Daniel Blake, sitting on a shaded terrace in a pair of sun-bleached shorts, strummed a melody on his guitar. The afternoon sun blazed in a cloudless sky and, despite the protective canopy above him, the heat was intense. Beads of sweat ran down his neck, tracking over bronzed skin to the dark mass of chest hair. It glistened on his top lip as he gently chewed the bottom. With his eyes closed, he progressed through the strings. A moment later, he smiled, finally satisfied, and put down the guitar. He reached for the weathered notebook that had been his constant companion all summer and wrote in an eager, untidy hand.

Daniel had been working on the song for two days, both music and lyrics, and, at last, it was done. He had nothing left to add.

He lifted his gaze to the sky and inhaled full into his lungs. Across the terrace, the blue water of the Ionian Sea reflected the white light of the sun, its expanse an ever-changing collage of sapphire and diamond colors. Down the coast, the outline of Corfu Island was a hazy mirage in the heat. This perfect view had been his for six amazing weeks. The idyll would soon be over, but not yet.

Daniel lay back on the lounger and lengthened his arms above his head, stretching the stiffness in his neck. He’d been so absorbed in the song, ensuring every chord and every word were right, he’d ignored his own comfort and now his body ached. A few weeks earlier, he’d made the mistake of writing beside the pool, in the direct glare of the sun, and paid the price. Two painful days in bed with sunburn. Since then, he’d stuck to the shade while working on his music. He lost himself so much in the process it was easy to burn.

Daniel studied his body as he lay there. He’d never looked so good or been this tan before. There’d been no time to sunbathe in the past, he’d always thought it a waste of time. He had had too much to do, too much to achieve, to spend his days lying around a pool. But he’d realized this summer that a tan didn’t just suit him, it helped him feel better.

It wasn’t just the sun. Daily sessions in the pool and long walks on the beach kept him in shape. Coming off Lady Lynda, he’d had every intention of letting his fitness routine go a little, if only for the summer, but it hadn’t worked out that way. He was in better condition now than when he arrived, in mind as well as body.

His legs were strong, muscular and tan. He hardly recognized his own body. He inched down the top of his shorts to admire the contrast in color between the creamy skin below his waist and the coppery tones above. The villa was private and he could have bathed naked if he’d wanted to, except he wasn’t that kind of guy. Besides, tan lines were sexy. He’d always thought so. Who needed to risk a burnt butt and balls?

The one thing that marred the bronze color of his torso was the scars between his hip bones and ribcage, sustained the night Oliver Gill had stabbed him, and from the lifesaving surgery he’d gone through afterward. Before coming to Corfu, the pale scars had been almost unnoticeable on his white skin. His dark body hair just about concealed them. But as his tan deepened, the scars stayed white, becoming more pronounced, forcing him to look at them, to acknowledge them.

Daniel traced his fingers along the lines and indentations. Had he made peace with the disfigurement? No. But as the summer came to an end, he’d learned to accept them.

Daniel sighed and basked in the heat. Life was not so bad, considering what the last two years had thrown at him. Better than that, things were good. Not perfect, too many questions remained unanswered for that, but his optimism grew every day.

The glass doors of the terrace opened behind him and Elijah Mann stepped out, offering him a cold bottle of water.

It’s hotter than hell out here, Elijah remarked, shielding his eyes against the sun to gaze across the sea.

Daniel swung his legs over the side of the sunbed and sat up. He drank the chilled, sparkling water and looked with admiration at Elijah’s chunky thighs. While the sun had turned Daniel’s white-boy skin an appealing shade of bronze, Elijah, with his Greek heritage, had gone nut-brown. The beige shorts and blue open-neck shirt he wore today complemented his tan. God, he’s gorgeous. Daniel never had to remind himself what a lucky guy he was.

Elijah dropped onto the other sunbed, knees spread wide, and looked straight at him with soulful brown eyes. His thick blue-black hair fell in an untidy wave across his brow and a three-day beard darkened his jaw. With his natural Greek coloring, Daniel wondered if Elijah had ever looked more handsome. Even more important, he looked happier and healthier than he had in a long time. Less than a year ago he’d been in hospital, fighting for his life. Daniel wouldn’t ever forget how close he’d come to losing him. Those long, terrible hours beside his bed, praying he would recover. Hoping for the best, afraid of the worst.

How’s it going? Elijah asked, nodding at his guitar.

I’m finished, he answered, smiling.

Elijah’s eyebrows raised. Really?

Absolutely.

Don’t keep me in suspense. Let me hear it.

What’s for lunch? Daniel asked, feigning indifference.

Elijah leapt forward, grabbing Daniel’s bare waist, tickling the sensitive flesh around his middle. Daniel yelped and fell backward, giggling. Elijah followed through, lying on top of him, fingers still working his waist. Daniel laughed, squirming against his hard body.

No lunch today, Elijah said, his face on top of Daniel’s. Not until you play me your song.

All right, all right. Daniel laughed, struggling beneath the weight of him. I give in. You can hear it.

As you surrender so easily, let me have a kiss too.

Elijah pressed his advantage, moving his lips on top of Daniel’s, taking him in a deep, open-mouthed kiss. Daniel gave in, thrusting his fingers into Elijah’s dark, lustrous hair and drawing him in further.

He never wanted it to end. The kiss, the embrace, their time together. Alone in Corfu. No pressure, no commitments, no worries. They were safe here. Happy.

Come on, Elijah said, drawing back at last. Play me your song.

Daniel picked up his guitar and notebook and arranged himself on the sunbed opposite. He played and sang with no sense of embarrassment. Song writing was a new experience for him. He’d spent the best part of his career interpreting the words and music of other writers. Great writers and great songs, but after all he’d been through on The Atlantic Anthem, and last year in Blackpool, he’d struggled to find songs that expressed what he felt. He found it hard to connect with other people’s stories and experiences. His emotions—his fears, hopes and anxieties—were unique to him. No one else could tell them.

Elijah had become the sounding board for his writing. The only person who knew what he’d been through. Who understood the confusion, panic and anger their ordeal had created. Daniel didn’t know if he could share these songs with the world, if he even wanted to, but he could sing them to Elijah, as a catharsis for them both.

The song he’d just written was called Watch Out For Dangerous Men. The music and the melody were beautiful, at odds with the lyrics, which were full of antagonism and outrage. There was a 1970s pop vibe to the song, influenced by Bowie, 10cc and Billy Joel, his favorites from a time when music and melody had most meaning. It was rough, acoustic, he needed to work on the vocal phrasing and arrangements, but even now, singing it when it was still new, the song said everything he’d tried and failed to express on his own.

Elijah listened and Daniel noticed a slight furrowing of his brow at a couple of the lyrics, but otherwise he gave away nothing. Finished, Daniel put down the guitar and closed the cover on his battered notebook. Elijah looked at him with dark, glistening eyes.

That’s…incredible, he said at last. He swallowed. You’ve been bottling all of that inside you?

Daniel shook his head. Not bottling it, no. Just looking for a way to express it. I didn’t know how to say those things before. For the longest time, I didn’t know what I wanted to say. It was caught, in here. He thumped his chest. Something stuck, that I couldn’t get out.

Like an emotional hairball.

Daniel laughed. Exactly like a hairball.

Elijah flipped sunbeds, sitting right beside him. He put an arm around Daniel’s shoulder, pulling him close, until their heads touched. Daniel loved this, the closeness between them. He needed music to let the world know how he felt, he couldn’t express it any other way, but with Elijah, he didn’t have to speak, didn’t need words. They understood each other completely.

What’s your intention for these songs? Elijah asked. They’re too good to keep hidden. All that emotional rawness has to be shared.

I don’t know whether anyone wants to hear it. I’ve always been a covers artist. Singing good old favorites. Show tunes and classics. That’s what people expect of me.

Elijah squeezed him. "You were a covers artist. Not anymore. You’ve got your own material now. Brilliant material. You should sing it. Share it."

Maybe, he said. We’ll see. When we get back home, I’ll record a few demos, see how it goes from there.

Elijah picked up his notebook and browsed through pages filled with Daniel’s untidy scrawl. Ideas, crossings out, reworkings, fragments—his heart poured out between the lines. How many songs have you written?

Probably around sixteen complete. And another seven or eight at various stages. Some of them may lead nowhere, but I think there are three potentially good ones among the unfinished stuff. Enough for me to work on.

You’ve got enough here for an album, Elijah said. Easily. A strong one at that. Why don’t you play these to Ben? It’s his field after all. Take his advice. Maybe he can help you to demo them.

We’ll see. Daniel took the book back from Elijah and closed it. C’mon. I’ve done my part, sang for my lunch. What are we having?

It was too hot to eat alfresco, even in the shade. Elijah set the table in the air-conditioned dining room, just inside the terrace where they could still enjoy the views, the sea on one side and the lush garden on the other, filled with indigenous plants and flowers. The villa combined traditional and modern architecture, casually elegant and spacious, with full floor-to-ceiling windows that flooded the chic interior with light. Daniel fell in love with the place the moment they arrived.

While Elijah sorted lunch, Daniel went to the ground-floor bathroom. He washed his hands and face and ran damp fingers through his hair. Even that had caught the sun during his time in Greece—its dark color was streaked with gold. With his light hair, sun tan, stubble and cleft chin, he looked more like a 1960s movie cowboy than ever.

He pulled on a lightweight shirt and returned to the dining room. The bracing air con was a blessed relief after the fierce heat of the terrace. They were deep into September and the strength of the sun showed no sign of abating. Elijah had set place mats, cutlery and wine.

Need any help? Daniel called into the kitchen.

All sorted, Elijah answered. Sit. Pour the drinks. I’ll be right there.

Daniel reached for the wine, a traditional Raditius rosé, and poured two glasses. They must have drunk gallons of the stuff across the summer.

Elijah returned with a huge platter of food. There were skewers of breaded king prawns and a bowl of Greek salad made with green peppers, cucumber, olives, fresh mint and dill, with generous chunks of feta cheese. He’d already prepared a simple dressing of olive oil, lemon juice and black pepper. They could eat all of these things when they got home but it wouldn’t be the same. The ingredients had come from a local market that morning. Part of Elijah’s holiday routine was to get up early and shop for the best ingredients each day.

This looks great, Daniel said, drizzling the dressing over the salad. And it smells even better.

Elijah picked up two large wedges of lemon and squeezed them across the platter of prawns.

Daniel grabbed a skewer and attacked it with gusto. Juicy and succulent with a crispy coating, the prawns were delicious.

Since winning the TV show Celebrity Top Cook, Elijah’s passion for food