The Infernal Pentagram (2001)

   

Zacchary stood on the side of the pool breathing deeply. His latest fetish was trying to gain mastery over his own body, even at his age. He had seen the film Children’s Island while staying with his cousins in Gothenburg last Christmas and was determined to beat the records of endurance set by the boy in that film. His best achievement to date was one-minute-fifty-six ...

Alexander Mars was no God of War; nor was he a Red Planet either, shining in orbit by night. Eponymously he might best be likened to a rather over-sweet chocolate bar — undoubtedly tasty on the outside, and thoroughly gooey within. He was eleven years old, rather thin, fair-haired, a quiet boy with few friends who was perfectly happy with his own company.

Fiona Mars looked at her husband pleadingly. It was she who made most of the decisions in the household, but he liked to think that he was the one who wore the trousers and was in charge in the family. Subservient wife that she was, she had learnt over the years to sow a seed into his mind and then wait until he came up with her suggestion as if it was his own original idea.

Cameron Mars was the manager of the local undertakers. He was a tall man with a mop of hair, just starting to grey. A rather sedentary life-style — whether in the office, the front-room of the deceased, or the hearse — was fast leading to a somewhat unseemly paunch, and the black suits which he invariably wore seemed to emphasise his portly figure.

Michael noticed the silver zip in the black skirt and had an overwhelming desire to slip it down. He wondered how the lady would have reacted, but kept his fingers under control. It was important to get some better accommodation than the cockroach hovel he had been in when he first started at college or commuting from home as he did at present, and first impressions of these lodgings seemed eminently pleasant, apart from the steep climb. He must not do anything to spoil his chances.