Fallow Heart

by K. C. Finn

  Brian was immobile, a goliath that was growing larger in the small space. The can was still in his hand, his fingers white where they gripped it. He cocked his head to one side. Lori saw the corner of his lips twitching upwards.

  “Well?” He bobbed his head forward with the words. “Did you mean it?”

  You can take him.

  Lori looked him over. He had a huge belly and weighty shoulders, giving way to stubby legs.

  You can take anyone.

  She thought of all the times she’d seen that glare in his eyes and looked away.

  You’re better than he is.

  Lori remembered Pauline. She was annoying, but she’d never had that glare. She hadn’t deserved Lori’s hatred, only been painted as the wicked stepmother.

  You are a demon.

  And Pauline had died for it. Lori unclenched her fists, letting out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. A pang hit her chest as the lava sank down, receding to the depths of wherever it was hidden. She was a demon, all right. A killer.

  “Get out of my face, Brian. You’re not worth the effort.”

  Mum gave a squeal, lips tight. Brian didn’t move. He barked out a laugh. It cut through the air so sharp that Lori jumped a little.

  “You cheeky little bitch.”

  Mum’s reaching hand froze in the air. “Don’t you dare talk to her like that.” Though her body was shaking, her voice forced its way out stronger than before. “She’s my daughter.”

  Brian turned at last, and Lori’s body relaxed. He took a few steps closer to Mum. Lori caught her breath, watching his bulk sidle up to her.

  “She’s a mess,” he said. “I’m glad I came back. You need someone to control things around here, Yvonne.” He snapped his head back in Lori’s direction. “You. Get some proper clothes on, you look disgusting.” Without a pause, he refocused on Yvonne. “Let’s get some drink in you. You’re shaking like Hell. You need to relax.”

  He moved to the fridge. He was even smiling. Lori watched him take a fresh bottle of Vodka from the fridge door, handing it to her mother. Yvonne took it. Her mouth was curled down, lips sucked in a little against her teeth. Mum’s eyes gleamed. She blinked, and a few watery drops splashed out onto her cheeks. Brian didn’t seem to notice. He walked to where two used glasses were out on the table, polishing one up with his sleeve. Lori froze. She couldn’t feel anything in her body. Not a scrap of heat or muscle.

  You are a demon. Be what you are.

  “Get out.”

  It didn’t even feel like the voice had come from her, but Brian looked her way after the words were spoken. The glare was back, his spine straightening.

  “What did you say to me?”

  “Get out,” Lori repeated. “Get out. Get out! Get OUT! GET OUT!”

  The screams let themselves loose. Lori saw her own body rushing forward in a blur, the small space of the van passing in a blip. She felt the crush of sweaty fabric in her hand, saw her own fingers gripping deep into Brian’s shirt. There was a tinge of black in her hands, but the colour hadn’t taken over. Her palms burned as she raised her arms. Brian was looking down at her, his eyes impossibly wide, mouth open as he was lifted off the ground. Lori saw his lips move but she couldn’t make out a word of his strained crying. She was only half-there, letting her body take over the work.

  She flashed her eyes left. The van door was still open, a little slice of the new morning light shining though. It looked sunny after the rain. There was a quiet moment which only seemed to be happening inside Lori’s head. When it was over, she found that Brian was pounding his fists against her arms. The thumps did nothing but make their thumping sound. Lori’s arms were full black, and she saw the hard skin shining there. She watched Brian’s lips again, tuning in.

  “Let me go!” he shrieked. “Let me go you fucking monster!”

  She turned on her heel, Brian’s back facing the doorway. With one powerful lunge, she threw him at it. Her aim was off. Brian’s head hit the doorway on the way out, sending him spinning into the morning mud. Yvonne rushed the door and peered out, but Lori took a step forward and grabbed her shoulder, yanking her back.

  “Leave him,” she said. “He’s no good for you, Mum. Why can’t you see that?”

  She struggled against Lori’s grip, so Lori let her mother go. Yvonne jumped for the door again, but she grabbed the edges and slammed it shut, turning the handle sharply. She spun around, tears flowing down her ruddy face, and raced back to Lori. Her puffy eyes were slits of water as she looked into Lori’s face. She raised her hands to her daughter’s cheeks. They were ice on Lori’s skin, sending shivers straight down into the bone.

  “What have they done to you?” she asked. “What have those bastards done to my sweet, lovely girl?”

  Lori’s gut gave a wrench. Mum’s icy fingers slid up her face and into her hairline. Her ears pickled with cold as Mum cupped her head, pulling her against one skinny shoulder. Lori raised her arms and wrapped them around her mother’s little waist. Mum sobbed violently against her, bones rattling. Lori watched her arms fading from the sleek black skin to the pallor of humanity. As the colour drained, a flood of trembles filled her chest. It was like Mum was pouring all of her sorrow into Lori, filling her up until she was shaking and crying too.

  “Your Granddad was right.” Mum sniffled against Lori’s hair. “He said it was all too suspicious… Not enough information.” She gasped and hitched between every few words. “But I couldn’t help you, and they had qualifications. I wanted them to help you…”

  Lori’s chest grew painfully hard. “They can’t. No-one can.”

  Mum pulled back. She was watery through Lori’s tears. Her blurred hand rose to wipe her face as she sucked back another sob.

  “We’ll make them.” Mum squeezed Lori’s arms, the ice sending another shot of pain into her hot body. “We’ll take you to a proper hospital right now. They can look at you and-”

  “Mum, no.”

  Lori tried to step away sharply, but her mother’s little fingers tightened. Lori shook as gently as she could, trying to get away. She blinked at her tears, clearing water from her vision.

  “Yes.” Mum’s smile was bright, eyes far too wide. “We’ll get you settled in a proper ward and they can run tests. Proper doctors with real answers. And then-”

  Lori’s voice was strained. “That’s not happening. Things aren’t how you think. Let me go.”

  She wouldn’t. Lori shook harder, raising her hands to grip her mother’s forearms. She tried not to squeeze, but the cold was pushing deep into her body.

  “Mum, you’re hurting me. Let go.”

  “Never,” Mum said. “It’s time I took responsibility. You’re coming with me and Granddad to the hospital.”

  “No!”

  Lori squeezed, and her mother gave a sudden yelp. She struggled, still clinging to Lori with that sharp frozen grip. Lori’s chest hardened again, the stony feeling travelling down through her arms. She tried to push her mother away. No yanking, no wild movements. She didn’t want to throw her like she had with Brian, or shove her the way she did with Pauline’s sister. Lori pushed, and Mum gave another cry of agony.

  “Let go!” Lori’s throat tightened. “Mum!”

  “I… I have!”

  Lori opened her hands. Mum stumbled backwards, gasping. She tried to rub her hands over her forearms, but the second her fingers touched the skin there, Mum screamed. Lori could see why. She stepped closer, mouth open. There was hardly any breath to come in or out. Lori’s eyes fixed on the two marks she’d made on her mother’s skin. On each forearm, in the shape of a hand, was a patch of purple skin, almost black. It sunk into the flesh a little, hard and painful looking. Like the meat there had died.

  Mum hissed. “It’s so cold.”

  Lori’s chest rushed back to its usual heat. Her mind tipped upside down, thoughts scattering all over the place. This wasn’t right. This was new. Something else her demon form could do that she had no con
trol over. So much that she didn’t know, and needed to. Mum was staring at her, open-mouthed. Lori watched her lips shake. She shook her head. Those icy hands had wrapped themselves around her burning heart. It wasn’t safe here. It wasn’t safe for Mum, with her here.

  Lori spun and raced into her bedroom, looking frantically for everything she could find. She yanked up her stripy backpack and threw things in without even looking at them. The rumble of old shoes mixed with the crash of knick-knacks falling on the floor. What did she need? What did a demon need? Did any of it matter if she was going to Hell someday soon anyway? Lori didn’t think, she let her hands shove and pack, her human belongings rushing by in a blur. There was a small voice at the doorway, but it took Lori a while to realise it was talking to her. She snapped her head round, the bag bulging with stuff in her grip.

  “What?”

  Mum’s mouth opened and closed. She gulped, the movement tensing her throat.

  “Don’t, love. Please.” She clasped her hands together. “We can fix it all.”

  Lori looked again at the black and violet damage on her mum’s arms. It suddenly came to her what she’d done. They weren’t bruises. It was a frostbite. A deep, burning cold which destroyed the skin.

  “It can’t be fixed, Mum,” Lori croaked. “None of it can.”

  Lori stepped over Brian’s unconscious body on her way from the van, her mother’s cries echoing in the background.

  Friends, and how you can tell what they are

  “I’m so sorry.”

  Kasabian raised his dark brows, sighing.

  “You’ve been saying that for five days. How many more before you stop?”

  There was a pause. Lori watched the steam rising from her cardboard tea cup.

  “At least another hundred.”

  Rain tapped at the window, the faint whistle of the wind creeping through the cracks of the single glazing. The cold in the little bedsit didn’t bother her so much as the noise. Occasionally there was a voice outside, and Lori couldn’t help but think that her family had found her every time she heard someone passing by. Even in the night, she woke to sudden sounds, and Kasabian would cross the room and whisper to her in his low, sleepy voice. Sometimes he sang too. And Lori wished that she wasn’t so upset, or such a burden on him.

  She began to peel the sticker from the side of the tea cup. It clung to her fingertip, and Lori let it crumple there, rolling into a sticky little tube.

  “Hey, I collect those,” Kasabian said. “You know how much street busking actually pays? It wouldn’t even cover the rent on this pig-sty. Every freebie counts.”

  Kasabian reached out. He held her palm, his grip slightly warmer than hers, and took the peeled sticker from her fingertip. Lori watched him unpeel it and stick it to the card on his cup. Black coffee. She could smell the rich, dark scent mixing with the earthiness of his clothes.

  Lori dipped her head. “Sorry.”

  He reached again and held her chin, lifting her face back up. When their eyes met, Lori got a tingle in her spine. His eyes weren’t as dark as they first appeared, flecked with hazel and almond lines when you took the time to look. Lori had been taking a lot of time to look, and it gave her stomach butterflies when she admitted that. Why had he chosen to help her? Now, and in the first place? He was… beautiful. She had to admit it. And Lori could think of no reason why he’d ever want to touch her the way he did.

  “Again with the sorry.” Kasabian grinned. “Stop. It.” He tapped her chin with each word.

  Wishful thinking. He’s only here because you’re like him. He’s got no choice about being with you.

  “I keep replaying it,” Lori said, her head turned away. “Calling you all that day and crying like an idiot on the phone for hours. And you took me right in. Showed me where you were living-”

  Kasabian raised a finger. “Squatting.”

  “Whatever. You’re letting me live here. Hide here. We don’t… We don’t really even know each other.”

  They were sitting cross-legged on the floor. Lori looked down at her old trainers, the muddy ones she’d been wearing on the morning that it all went to shit. She’d run as far and as fast as she could from Fir Trees, and it had been five days since she’d spoken to any of her family. The trainers were coming apart at the toes, where the fabric met the rubber seal. Lori pulled at the join, a fleck of dirty white rubber coming off between her nails.

  “We do now,” Kasabian said.

  Lori didn’t look up, but she could hear the little snorty-sigh that he made when he was smiling. She was starting to notice all sorts of things about him now that she was with him every day, like the way he tipped his head back and arched his spin to gargle in the morning. The gargling was important, he’d told her so, for a good busking voice that carried out over the crowds. There were no curtains in the bedsit which they were squatting in, and Lori had already gotten used to the way the morning light reflected off Kasabian’s battered guitar, sending hazel lights up onto the ceiling.

  “I guess we do.”

  She watched Kasabian change his position, crossed-legs shifting to rest on his side. He often lay down on the threadbare carpet, leaning like a lion on a rock. He reached out again, his hand finding Lori’s. He rested it over hers, and she stopped playing with her shoe.

  “I’m going to try and grab the covered patch on the rows this morning before anyone else gets it,” he said. “I might be able to make us enough for a Big Mac and fries each later.”

  Lori shrugged. “You don’t have to. I can go without.”

  It was surreal to hear herself saying those words. She’d always been the big girl with the big appetite, never resisting the urge to cut down. It had been weeks since she’d had a full meal now, picking at scraps and never finishing anything that was put in front of her. Even her cup of tea was half-full, going cold. Kasabian squeezed her hand.

  “I’ll do it anyway. In case you change your mind.”

  He patted her, starting to move away. Lori grabbed for him and Kasabian paused. She met his eyes again, watching the lines that contorted around his eyes.

  “What?”

  “That thing you promised,” Lori said.

  His eyes flickered away for a second. Kasabian’s lip quirked. “I don’t want to, not now.”

  She had no right to press after all his kindness, but Lori kept her grip on his wrist.

  “Why not? You did promise. You said you’d show me what kind of demon you were. I’ve been here days, Kas. For all I know, you’re just a boy who says he’s a demon.”

  He got to his feet, and Lori’s heart sank back into her chest. She watched him take a few paces across the tiny, dull room, rubbing the back of his neck. He grinned, but it looked empty, then gave her a sigh.

  “Do you want to know how I’ve survived this long beyond the Harvest?” he said.

  Lori sat up straighter, a rush in her blood. “More than anything.”

  Kasabian walked to the window, one finger trailing against the peeling paint. His nail caught it with a crackling sound.

  “In my country, there’s a lot of talk about the spirit and the mind,” he said. “We’re Catholics, at least my family were, but my mother believed in the power of positive thinking. She was dying to be one of those trendy Western mums. All New Age and shit.”

  He grinned again. This time Lori saw the warmth in it. His eyes were fixed loosely on the window-frame.

  “She taught me that every problem has a solution. Mum believed that if you think yourself strong, you can be strong. There’s always a way around the black clouds. A way back to the blue skies.” He blinked, refocusing on his feet. “Does that sound silly?”

  “I’m half-way to turning into a demon from another plane of existence.” Lori shrugged. “Nothing sounds silly anymore.”

  Kasabian looked up, flashing her a toothy smile. He walked back towards her, holding out both his hands. Lori took them and he pulled her to her feet. When they were standing face to face, he didn’t
let go.

  “I’ve separated the demon from myself. I know it’s there. I feel it getting angry, wanting to break out, but I don’t let it. It’s like I told you. No stress. Just calming thoughts. It takes practice, but it can be done.”

  “So that probably means that you’re a shapeshifter.” Lori studied his face. “Like me?”

  “It probably does,” he replied, “but I’d rather not find out. I’ve spent a long time pushing that demon down inside me. I don’t want to invite him back to the surface like a party trick.”

  A pang punched Lori in the gut. She looked away.

  “No. Of course not. I’m sorry.”

  “Ugh!” Kasabian squeezed her fingertips. “You are not sorry. You’re curious and that’s fine. Now I’ve gotta go get that spot. You may not have the stomach for a Big Mac right now, but I’m ravenous. I feel like I haven’t eaten in a week.”

  He let her go, racing to grab his guitar. He walked to the window, yanking it open fully, but he paused. Kasabian looked back and gave Lori a little wave. She waved back. The tummy butterflies had migrated into her chest. She felt like they might flutter all the way up her throat if she opened her mouth. She watched him climb out of the window and onto the fire escape, listening to every metallic clang until he was out of earshot. The front door to the bedsit was locked, and once Lori pulled the window down, the room would be closed off from the world again.

  After she’d shut out the cold, Lori went to the far corner of the room, where her bed was set up as far from the windows and door as she could manage. It was next to the bathroom, which was nice and cool, just a yoga mat with a few comfy clothes folded on top of it to make a kind of nest. She sank down into it, feeling the hard floor beneath her. The boards creaked as she reached into her backpack for her phone.

  She and Kasabian shared a charger. His phone was the old-fashioned top-up kind, so sometimes she couldn’t reach him if he didn’t have credit. Today was one of the days when he might not be able to afford it, so she had no idea when he’d be home. She plugged her own phone into the socket near the bed, watching the little battery icon light up. How long would Mum keep paying her phone bill if she didn’t answer any calls? Lori had turned the location services off from the moment she got to the bedsit, and the phone had to be on silent all the time because Mum and Granddad never stopped calling. Even now, in the short time since she’d woken up to Kasabian delivering her a cup of takeaway tea, there had been seventeen missed calls. Lori was pretty sure they were trying her in shifts.