Blood RED Page 12

  “No wonder you’ve been having nightmares! Oh, you poor thing, you’ve been through so much.”

  It was during this chat that Kathleen started to steer the conversation towards perhaps returning with her, to her real home. “You’ve done your best, love. Made a good go of it. Time to come back now, eh?”

  Only then did Kathleen see a flash of the old Rachael, that feisty and determined Rachael. “I can’t, Mum. You know that. I have a life here ... I ... I have a life ...” She stared off into space, though, as she said this, only refocussing when Kathleen touched her knee. “I still have my job. At least I think I do. The acting. I have Steph and—”

  “Darling, I know that Stephanie was very good to you when you first moved here ...” Kathleen spat those last few words out like they were poison. “But I really don’t think she’s your kind of person.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?”

  Kathleen shuffled about uneasily in her seat. “Well, from what you’ve told me she doesn’t have the best ... morals.” What Kathleen actually wanted to say was, ‘Let’s face it, the girl’s a tramp’ but she didn’t think that would go down very well with Rachael. She’d been on the receiving end after criticising some of her daughter’s friend choices in the past, not to mention the boys she’d insisted on going out with—or thrown herself at might be more accurate.

  “Steph’s the best,” argued Rachael. “She has the biggest heart of anyone I know and—”

  “So where is she?” asked Kathleen.

  Rachael looked at her, said nothing. She’d tried calling her, once they’d connected the phone line again, but the girl wasn’t answering either her mobile or her home phone.

  “Your best friend and where is she while you’re going through all this?” Kathleen had pushed.

  “I ...” Rachael chewed her bottom lip. “I don’t know.”

  The buzzer had gone then, breaking the tension, and Kathleen had been more than a little surprised to find Mike on the other end of the speaker. But, at the same time, it had given her no small amount of satisfaction to tell him to get lost.

  “Please! I just want to see that Rachael’s okay, y’know?”

  “No, I don’t. Now go away!”

  Rachael had placed her hand on her mother’s arm, and asked her to let Mike in. “I need to do this myself, Mum,” she told her. So, against her better judgement, Kathleen had admitted him.

  She’d hovered in the background, looking daggers as Rachael stood talking to him at the front door. He was just her daughter’s type—more’s the pity—scruffy, messy hair, that stupid bit missing from his eyebrow. In other words, a no-hoper. “I just wanted to make sure you were all right, after ...”

  “Yeah,” said Rachael. “I’m fine.” She didn’t sound very convincing.

  “I was so worried when Steph told Elaine and ... Anyway,” he looked down at the floor, shuffled about, “I just wanted to say I was sorry.”

  “About what, kissing that woman I caught you with?”

  “I tried to explain about that a billion times. She kissed me, Rachael. You know how some of these gigs get, especially towards the end when people have had a few. It meant nothing.”

  Kathleen harrumphed loudly behind them. “A likely story.”

  Rachael turned and said: “Please, Mum. This is difficult enough ...”

  Her mother had nodded, retreated—though not too far.

  “Doesn’t matter.” Rachael shook her head. “It really doesn’t matter, Mike. You hurt me so, so much.”

  He looked at her, guilt-ridden. “I ... Look, I didn’t want to say sorry for that, anyway. I mean, I am sorry for that but ... I wanted to apologise about the other Friday night. About what happened in the pub. It’s just that when I saw you with that other guy, Will, I—”

  “Who’s Will?” Kathleen had chipped in from behind.

  Ignoring her, Rachael said: “You did that already, Mike. The day after, remember? I told you then, and I’m telling you now, go home.”

  He stared at her like she was talking Chinese. “Rachael, this is the first time I’ve seen you since that evening.”

  Rachael had looked like she was about to say something then, but instead said: “Oh, that’s right. My mistake.”

  “So, I thought maybe we could—”

  “Mike, you’re not hearing me.”

  He stepped closer and Rachael sniffed the air, said: “You’ve been drinking.”

  “I haven’t, I—”

  “Mike, I can smell it. You stink of the stuff. Look, just leave, will you? Please. There’s nothing more to say.”

  So he did, reluctantly, hanging his head in shame—and Rachael closed the door. Kathleen had asked about the other guy Mike had mentioned, this Will fellow, but her daughter refused to be drawn on it. All she would say was, “It doesn’t matter.”

  “Hmm,” Kathleen had replied, as they busied themselves for an early bedtime. “It looks like Steph has been talking to someone about you at any rate. Elaine’s her sister, isn’t she?”

  But Rachael had already closed the bathroom door by that time. Twenty minutes later and Kathleen had tucked her up in bed, snug as a bug in a rug. She’d kissed her on the top of the head, before saying, “Night sweetheart, sleep tight.” But she hadn’t gone straight to the spare room after closing the door. Instead, she’d sat up on the couch going over everything again, her mind racing.

  Yes, it was nice to be needed again—but something wasn’t right here. Something about Rachael.

  And she wouldn’t rest easily until she got to the bottom of it.

  * * *

  Mike stood next to the lamppost opposite Rachael’s block of flats, puffing a cigarette down to its filter.

  “Bollocks!” he said under his breath. Bollocks to Rachael and bollocks to Rachael’s witch of a mother. What was she doing here, anyway? Probably came when Rachael told her about Greenham Estate, but even so ... What right did she have to stick her bloody hooked nose into things? That’s what Mike wanted to know. She should get on her broomstick and fly off back to wherever she’d come from.

  Mike had never had the ‘pleasure’ of meeting her while he’d been going out with Rachael, got the impression that she wanted to keep the two of them apart actually. Now he could see why. Interfering busybody.

  He stubbed out his fag on the pavement and promptly lit a second one, though not before taking another swig from the bottle of vodka in his jacket pocket (and just how in Christ’s name had Rachael smelt that?).

  Well, he’d given it a shot. Rachael had had her chance, and he should just get on with things. Put the past behind him and move on. Maybe even with Yvonne, the girl who’d kissed him when he’d been DJ-ing—and he’d kissed back, if he was being honest with himself (for the first time). The kiss that he’d just said meant nothing to him. The kiss that had led to ... other things, when he’d shown up on her doorstep after he and Rachael had gone their separate ways. Jesus, she was a looker that Yvonne! The sex more rampant than anything he’d ever experienced with Rachael.

  Yet he couldn’t get her out of his mind, or his system. Rachael was the only girl who’d ever really got to him. Probably because she wasn’t like any of the others he’d worked his way through. And she hadn’t been easy, either. Had made him work for it. Friends first, she’d insisted—doing the whole dating thing. Movies, meals, holding hands.

  Mike sucked hard on the cigarette, then blew smoke out of the side of his mouth in a stream.

  But he’d found he quite enjoyed doing the whole boyfriend and girlfriend bit. Talking, sharing things—it was like a friend with benefits. Maybe it was time for him to start growing up, just like Elaine was always telling him—nagging him, more like. He’d fucked it up, though, just like he fucked everything up.

  “Aw, bollocks to it,” he said aga
in, finishing off that smoke as well. He couldn’t stand here moping all night. Should be making his way back to his van, the one he’d bought on tick for the DJ-ing gigs (only a few more payments left till it was his outright). He’d parked it round the corner, so Mike started to shuffle off towards it, hands in his pockets, wishing he hadn’t even bothered coming. Better to have had the upper hand in the break-up; now he just looked like some kind of grovelling twat. But he’d show Rachael. They hung around in the same circles, went to the same pubs and clubs, plus there was the whole Steph and Elaine connection. Maybe he’d do a bit of flaunting of his own, make her jealous like she’d done with that knob she’d been talking to the other night. The one he’d got into the scrap with. Mike still thought about that, played it over and over in his mind: the punch he’d landed on the guy; his opponent tackling him to the ground. Mike should have been able to take the stuck-up ponce, no problem. Instead of which he’d ended up looking like a prize idiot again.

  There was a noise off to his left that made him jump. A scuffling sound. But when he turned and peered in that direction, there was nothing. The wind was picking up a little, so maybe it was that. He was grateful for the fact it had waited until he’d finished his ciggies.

  Another noise, this time off to his right. Coming from an alleyway between two other blocks of flats. More scuffling, like something scraping on the concrete—either the floor, or the walls. “H-Hello?” he called out, voice breaking a little as he said the words.

  Definitely someone there, something ... For now he could hear a distinct growling sound. It was only then that he recalled what Elaine had told him, what Steph had relayed to her about a savage dog or something on the loose last weekend during those riots, or whatever the hell they’d been: Greenham Estate wasn’t the most stable of places at the best of times. You couldn’t trust half the stories that were flying around. But maybe, just maybe ...

  This isn’t the Greenham Estate, he reminded himself. You didn’t get much violence here. Wasn’t Bodmin Moor either, no big animals roaming round.

  Nevertheless, he started again when the scraping got louder, when he heard the breathing. The panting.

  Followed by more growling.

  Mike began to back off, slowly. He’d seen it in a nature programme once—if you did that, you were less likely to get chased or something. Less likely to get bitten. Christ, what if whatever that thing was had rabies or something?

  He got so far, spurred on by the fact the growling was getting louder, then simply turned and began to run.

  * * *

  Red was running again.

  Through the woods, the path nowhere in sight now. She must have left it behind a long time ago. There was no other choice but to keep going, keep charging forwards through the greenery, through the thick foliage. She had no clue how she was going to find her way out again, no idea if anyone would find her.

  But she didn’t mind that, as long as the thing behind didn’t find her, either. The thing that was chasing her, that she’d seen back in the cabin. The thing that had killed and then pretended to be her kin.

  The evil thing; the monster.

  It made her pick up the pace, plunging headlong through more trees. The branches were knotting together here, almost webbing together. Denser and denser the woods were becoming, those same branches whipping her—but still she carried on. Didn’t dare look back. It was there, she knew, and if she turned around for just a moment Red might trip and fall again.

  Then it would be on her, then it would be eating her.

  All the better to eat you with ...

  Those teeth. Now she’d thought about it, that was all she could see. That slavering maw, the gnashing sound those fangs had made. It made her run faster, legs working harder. She batted at the branches, fighting them off.

  Red could hear the panting from behind, could almost feel that creature’s breath on her neck. Could hear the distinct sound of growling, low and guttural. Deep and unpleasant.

  No, I won’t let it have me. I have to do something!

  Then it came to her, and she realised that as much as she loathed to part with her mother’s gift, it might just save her life after all—and the woman would no doubt be pleased about that. That something she’d given her had kept her little girl safe.

  Red undid the clasp at her neck, spinning and throwing off the hooded cape in the process—throwing it back at the shape she didn’t dare look at again. It covered the thing completely, causing it to get tangled up in the material and stumble. The more it fought, the more it got wrapped up inside. Thrashing and fighting to free itself on the woodland floor.

  The scene fascinated her, and for the first time she understood that this animal could be vulnerable, that perhaps it could be defeated. Perhaps she might even be able to wound or kill it? But she’d paused too long to witness this, for even now it was starting to untangle itself from the redness of her cape.

  Don’t just stand there watching, you need to be running! Making the most of this distraction, the time it’s bought you!

  She turned and began to sprint once more, past more trees and leaves—she wasn’t out of the woods yet. Just when she thought it was getting thicker again, the greenery opened up and Red emerged into a clearing.

  But then she saw it. The cabin. She’d come full circle somehow, doubled back and ended up at the very place she’d been fleeing from.

  There was growling from behind, it was gaining on her once more. Should she head in another direction, knowing that it was still in pursuit and it was faster than her—that it would catch up in no time out in the open? Or make the obvious choice? She’d be trapped in there, but at least it might offer some protection. Better than being dragged down to the ground and clawed at, feasted on as she struggled beneath the beast.

  Red nodded, as if to show she’d made up her mind. She headed for the door, fumbling with the handle, the latch.

  It wouldn’t open.

  The growling was getting louder and louder, it couldn’t have been more than a few feet behind her now, having disentangled itself from the cape. “Come on, come on ...” she was grumbling under her breath, fingers slipping and sliding on the lock. Red gave it one last try and—

  Click!

  She flung the door wide, slamming it shut just as quickly after she slipped inside the place. It was only then, once she’d pressed her back up against the door itself, that she understood why it had been so hard to open. Only then that her mind allowed her to see what was covering her hands. The sticky wetness; the crimson wetness.

  But it wasn’t just on the handle. As she gazed into the cabin, she could see it everywhere. The place was awash with it, grue and gore covering the spaces that were left.

  Red sucked in a breath, began shaking from head to toe. Gramma’s blood? No—she’d seen nothing of that when she first arrived. So it had to be ...

  The person who’d bought her time, saved her life originally ... only to lose his. And yes, there she saw the axe lying on the slatted floor, also covered in scarlet. The wolf’s blood, she knew—because she’d seen the man using it—but ultimately the creature had won, and it had made him pay for his interference.

  She had no more time to ponder this, however, because there was a thud at the door, something ramming it that caused her to pitch forwards. The door opened and a claw appeared in the space, reaching for her. Red leaned back again, trying to force it out, shoved the edge of the door against the creature’s forearm, and heard it howl in pain. But she was just angering it, she knew that.

  Nevertheless, it withdrew the claw, so she could slam the door closed again—this time reaching to slide the heavy bolt across. She was almost there, had almost driven it home, when the monster butted the door again. This time she was ready for it, though, and despite the size difference Red managed not to be pushed as far this time.

&
nbsp; Shove ... shove it back, she willed herself on.

  Another bang, but she pushed with all her strength, hoping it was enough. The door closed flush and she finally slid the bolt home. More thuds against the wood, but it held. Red let out the long breath she’d been holding, closing her eyes.

  She opened them sharply, though, when she heard the bang coming from her right. Over by the window.

  The thing had moved around the cabin, to look for a weaker spot. Now Red saw the huge claw pressed up against the glass, could see the pads of its palm there pressing against it; splintering it.

  Then that was gone—and within seconds it was replaced by two glowing crimson eyes, staring in.

  Staring at her.

  Red couldn’t help letting out a whimper. And no sooner had she thought about what would happen next—that it was going to get in, get to her, tear her apart, take her over—than the claw was being drawn back.

  Then, accompanied by a loud crashing noise that hurt her ears, the glass shattered inwards and the beast was inside.

  With her.

  * * *

  Mike had run, away from the growling, the scuffling noise—which sounded oh so much like claws on that concrete—making for the relative safety of his van; which he’d parked round the corner out of the way, so it wouldn’t get nicked (you could never be too careful in this city).

  Panicking, he’d fumbled with the keys on the driver’s side, dropping them twice and almost losing them down a drain, before finally getting the door open. He clambered inside, pulling the door closed behind him and locking it again—only afterwards realising that the noise he’d made might actually attract the thing he was trying to get away from.

  His imagination conjured up some kind of Hound of the Baskervilles-type animal, bounding after him with a foaming mouth, glowing green, ready to pounce, ready to bite his legs—maybe even bite them off!

  So he was quite relieved when he saw the man walk past with his Dalmatian on a lead. A more cuddly or friendly dog you couldn’t hope to see in your life. Mike was relieved, but more than a little annoyed at himself for being spooked so easily.