Death's Dominion

by Simon Clark

  West folded his arms as he watched Dominion’s endeavours. ‘He really is insane.’

  ‘No, he’s not.’ Caitlin watched him in rapture. ‘Don’t you see what he’s doing?’

  For one dreadful moment Elsa had thought he was in the process of carrying out his threat, that he strangled the children who had been playing in the nets. Now she saw the children watched him from across the street as he hauled what seemed an acre of net from where it had hung over the harbour rail. The netting must have been ancient. It was patched up with nets of different gauges and colours – blue, orange, grey, yellow. Windblown newspapers, carrier bags, gum wrappers, the flotsam and jetsam of the streets had become tangled up in it. Not that the sorry state of it bothered Dominion.

  The crowds watched as he pulled the net off the rail, then hoisted it on to a massive shoulder. On the whole the crowd simply watched him without comment. Mayor Jackson was there along with his coterie of senior police and local bigwigs who witnessed Dominion’s labours with disgust. Once he had the net over one shoulder, a mountain of frayed mesh with around twenty yards more of it dragging behind him, he marched away down the road.

  ‘Watch out,’ squawked one of the men who’d been drinking coffin paint. ‘He’ll carry you off in that if you’re not careful!’

  The saps fell back when they heard his warning. The children, however, ran beside the folds of net he hauled away in the light of the setting sun. It didn’t take long for the crowd to follow. More came out of their cottages; their questions about what the monster was doing were met by puzzled shrugs from bystanders.

  Elsa glanced at West. ‘We’d best find out what he’s up to.’

  Caitlin already followed in the giant’s wake, along with what seemed most of the town. Even Mel wearing a bruise on his face from his earlier encounter tagged along in a staggering walk, a half-bottle of coal-black coffin paint clutched in one fist.

  Dominion’s activities attracted the attention of the occupants of the Pharos. Paul stood alongside Beech and the others as they looked out through the grille of the portcullis. The setting sun engulfed the town with a deep red light.

  ‘What’s he doing with the net?’ Xaiyad asked.

  Paul shook his head. ‘He threatened to drown the youngest children in the town if they didn’t give us food. I only hope to heaven the net isn’t full of babies.’

  Beech angled her head to see through the steel bars. ‘I watched him take the net off the railings … it’s just a fisherman’s net. There’s nothing in there.’

  As they watched, a rising wail sounded behind him. He turned to see Saiban run out of the door at the base of one of the towers. The man panted as if his lungs had failed him; he could hardly stand up by himself.

  ‘Marais!’ Saiban screamed. ‘Marais! I told you she’s not dead. She’s managed to get out!’

  Paul’s heart thudded … She’s managed to get out. He knew exactly what Saiban meant. Paul ran across the courtyard toward the base of the tower that was now shrouded in shadow. Beside him ran Beech and Xaiyad.

  Saiban pointed an accusing finger. ‘Marais! You lied! You said she was dead!’

  Paul barrelled into the chapel, then headed toward the crypt door that yawned open. The stairs beyond it led down into a pit of darkness. More by luck than judgement he managed to descend into the subterranean vault without falling. The sight that met his eyes at the bottom made him falter.

  He took a breath. ‘Damn them for making us like this.’

  The pair behind him paused on the stair. Paul took another step into the crypt. Along the walls, sarcophagi held the bones of the dead captive. In front of him, however, in the sun’s blood-red light falling through a vent in the wall, was a scene of such ugly proportions he felt as if he’d blundered into a nightmare.

  The stone lid of the coffin had been slid far enough to one side to create a gap. Luna had somehow crawled out of it. She now lay part way out of her coffin, the top of which was perhaps four feet above floor level where it rested on a slab. Her thighs rested on the edge of the coffin while her hips and torso hung down the outside. Her chin rested on the crypt floor. The break in her neck meant that it was as supple as a snake. The head was raised so even though her body hung vertically from the open coffin, her face was horizontal. The body was naked after dragging itself from its shroud.

  Beech gave a sob. ‘Look at her eyes!’

  Dominion drew the crowd of onlookers behind him to where the harbour wall formed a granite pier that ran out fifty yards into the open sea. There, he walked out along the top of the structure. When he reached a lamppost near the end he shrugged the net from his shoulder. He tied one end of the net to the steel post. Then he threw the huge bundle of mesh into the water. That done he stepped off the edge of the walkway to drop into the sea that had now taken on the aspect of black chrome as dusk closed in.

  ‘Look at him!’ Caitlin’s excited cry burst from her lips. ‘Dominion’s fishing!’

  Whether it was awe or disbelief, Elsa didn’t know, the crowd, however, watched in silence as Dominion seized the other end of the net in one hand then began swimming out to sea. The weight of the net had to be enormous. The force of his arm and legs pummelling the water was like a never-ending sequence of depth charges. When the net pulled taut, there was a good thirty yards of it that linked the swimmer with the harbour pier. Then he swam back toward the beach, keeping the net straight.

  ‘He really is fishing.’ West let out a whistle. ‘See how he’s closing the trap on them?’

  Just what he’d caught was soon answered by the sight of silver bodies breaking the surface inside the arc of the net. One or two fish leapt over the mesh to escape; most, however, were confined to an ever diminishing area of water.

  ‘Mackerel!’ Caitlin hugged herself with delight. ‘Dominion must have caught a whole shoal of them!’

  In the crypt beneath the tower the light had almost gone. Paul walked across to where Luna lay halfway out of the tomb. Her naked body gleamed as if it had become luminous. She lay with one arm stretched out in front of her. He grimaced. The sight of her head tilted so cruelly back like that revolted him.

  ‘Oh, bless her. Why can’t she rest in peace?’

  Xaiyad, the pathologist, crouched down to examine the corpse. ‘This can happen, I’m afraid.’ He shook his head. ‘Ideally, the body should have been cremated immediately after death.’

  ‘I am right, aren’t I, Xaiyad? Luna is brain-dead?’

  ‘Undoubtedly.’

  Beech reacted angrily. ‘But is she?’

  ‘There’ll be no electrical activity in the brain stem.’

  ‘But just look at her eyes. You can see for yourself they are alive!’

  Paul found it hard to disagree. As they’d approached the body the eyes had been staring forward. They’d been dull, lifeless. There had been an absence of spirit there; merely, a pair of gelatinous orbs that were covered in dust. Paul had been struck by the sadness in them. As if Luna was saying, ‘I tried so hard to stay alive … in the end I failed.’ Only, as they approached, the eyes had swivelled upward to look at them. That’s when a fierce intelligence had seemingly roared from them. The three had reeled back as if struck a physical blow. So much emotion fuelled by anger had been transmitted from those two grey eyes.

  Then, of course, Beech had noticed Luna’s arm. The way it stretched out on the floor as if pointing toward the stairs. ‘Luna’s trying to tell us who killed her.’ Beech was matter of fact. ‘First she writes the murderer’s name in her blood on the inside of the coffin lid. Now she’s tried to show us who threw her off the wall.’

  Xaiyad was astounded. ‘That’s not possible. Luna will have no mental function. These movements are purely automatic reflexes. Look at the pallor of the skin. The hands are blue. Her internal organs are shutting down.’

  ‘As I keep saying.’ Paul shook his head. ‘We’re so fucking hard to kill.’

  Beech paced the floor. ‘I don’t know why Luna’s diff
erent. Then we all seem to be changing … I don’t know: evolving!’

  Xaiyad kept shaking his head. ‘We can’t evolve into becoming immortal.’

  Paul agreed, ‘All God Scarers die a second time. It’s inevitable.’

  Xaiyad looked at Beech. ‘I’d be interested to know what you think Luna wrote on the inside of the tomb?’

  Beech glanced at Paul as if daring him to contradict her, or make her look foolish. Paul held out a hand, inviting her to speak.

  With an air of defiance Beech said, ‘I couldn’t make out the word – but they were definitely letters.’

  ‘How can you be sure?’

  ‘I’m certain the last one was the letter “n”.’ Again she gave a defiant toss of her head. ‘Yes, the letter “n”.’

  ‘A name of one us that ends in “n”.’ Paul felt a growing sense of unease.

  Xaiyad voiced the name that all three must have been thinking. ‘Dominion.’

  A remarkable event took place. Elsa couldn’t believe her eyes.

  As Dominion waded through the surf into the shallows the crowd of saps went wild. Even though the town’s ruling elite glared their disapproval men and women raced into the surf, their feet splashing the water into gouts of spray.

  ‘Fish!’ Caitlin was ecstatic. ‘All that fish!’

  Elsa watched in astonishment as the people laughed and called to one another as they grabbed at the mass of mackerel trapped between the net and the beach. The water swarmed with fish, their tails slapped the brine into a creamy froth. The noise of the locals’ jubilation stunned West.

  ‘Look at them. You’d think they’d never seen fish before.’

  ‘Never this much,’ Caitlin shouted above the laughter of people revelling in the shoal that Dominion dragged shoreward in the net. ‘Not for years. None of the fishing boats are any good now.’

  ‘They look happy enough,’ West said. ‘But it might not last. As soon as Dominion’s done his fisherman act we should get back to the castle fast.’

  ‘I agree.’ Elsa caught Caitlin by the arm. ‘Caitlin, where’s the bag you packed?’

  ‘Back in my room. I’ll get it in a minute. I want to watch this first. Ha, see Dad and his cronies? They hate this, but they can’t stop all these people having fun … just look at how much fish they’re getting. Half this lot haven’t had a square meal in weeks.’

  Elsa watched the frenzy of people scooping fish out of the sea with their bare hands. The expression on their faces was the same as kids unwrapping presents on Christmas Day.

  ‘Caitlin … I’ll run back for your bag.’

  ‘Are you sure?’

  ‘Stay with West. I’ll be back in five minutes.’

  Elsa raced through the deserted streets. It was almost dark now; only a pink after-light clung to the underside of the clouds. She knew they had to get out of here and back to the Pharos. The townsfolk’s good humour might not last. In barely sixty seconds she reached the grocery store. She raced upstairs to the bedroom. It took a moment to find the bag that Caitlin had packed with clothes. When she turned back to the bedroom door a figure blocked her way.

  The man’s eyes locked on to hers. ‘Do you remember me?’

  In the crypt all they could do was return Luna to the tomb, then slide the lid until it covered her. Her limbs made fluttering twitches now. At last death – a full, motionless death – had begun to creep into her body.

  ‘Luna is over the worst,’ Xaiyad told the pair as the stone slab clunked into place. ‘The thrashing of the body has stopped. She isn’t screaming. By morning she’ll be completely inert.’

  Beech kissed her fingertips then placed it on the sealed tomb. A moment later she said, ‘What about Dominion? Who’s going to confront him about Luna?’

  Elsa held her breath for a moment before releasing it with a groan. She pressed her lips together trying not to shout out. Then she looked down at him.

  ‘Am I hurting you?’ she asked.

  ‘No.’

  ‘I thought I was. You were closing your eyes as if you were in pain.’

  He shook his head.

  She saw the pair of them reflected in the dressing-table mirror. Am I doing this or am I dreaming, she asked herself. How can my world turn upside down so quickly? Once more her eyes were drawn to the mirror. There was her reflection. She was naked as she sat astride the man. He lay on his back on Caitlin’s bed. He was naked, too. His dark hair was ruffled from where she’d held it as she kissed him. Now his eyes were closed. This was Karl. He’d tried to stop the other two hurting her that afternoon. When he appeared at the door he’d told her he was concerned she might have been seriously hurt by the knife injury Mel had inflicted on her. It was almost small talk. Far more was said with their eyes. She’d felt emotion run through her like electricity. Then she couldn’t stop herself; she’d kissed him. After that, a frenzied battle to rip away their clothes before falling on the bed.

  Now she sat astride him and groaned with a hungry, lascivious pleasure as she lifted her hips before sliding down onto his penis. This was forbidden. Monster on man. Maybe that’s why the erotic thrill of it all electrified her.

  I am hurting you, Karl, she told herself, the muscles inside me are crushing your cock. But then the barrier between pain and pleasure is a delicate one. So very easily penetrated.

  She kissed his face. The salt of his perspiration tingled on her tongue. When she bore down on him he moaned.

  Elsa whispered, ‘I am hurting you, aren’t I?’

  Whatever his reply would be didn’t matter one way or the other. She had a monstrous hunger to satisfy. Come what may, she would satiate the emptiness she’d harboured inside herself for too many dry and lonely years.

  23

  SLAUGHTER MAN

  Night had fallen by the time the supplies arrived at the Pharos, and Dominion had climbed the cliff steps to the portcullis. Nothing less than a posse delivered the truckload of food, lamps, candles and soap. The vehicle negotiated a narrow roadway that ran between the high wall of the castle and the edge of the cliff that plunged 200 feet to Scaur Ness. With the truck came five cars. These carried the mayor, chief of police, three more police officers with civilian deputies armed with shotguns. After inching along the narrow road the truck halted just short of the portcullis. The cars stopped two abreast some fifty paces behind the truck with their headlights blazing to illuminate the delivery point.

  Elsa saw all this as she and her little band reached the top of the steps. Dominion said nothing. He merely watched the men throw boxes of food from the truck onto the pavement outside the portcullis gate, which was still locked down against the outside world. Behind the portcullis her fellow God Scarers witnessed the deliverymen’s none-too gentle approach to unloading the cargo.

  Dominion spoke. ‘Be careful with the boxes.’ There was thunder in his voice. ‘Pass them down. Don’t throw.’

  The men weren’t going to argue with the giant. One jumped from the back of the truck while the second man handed over the boxes.

  With a creaking the portcullis winched upwards.

  One of the deliverymen shouted toward the cars, ‘We could use some help here.’

  The posse weren’t eager. Their reluctance showed in their lack of speed as they climbed out of the vehicles before moving into the light of the headlamps. All this passed in a daze for Elsa. Most prominent now were memories of being in the bedroom with Karl just minutes ago. She’d ridden the human hard. Had he expected a God Scarer to be passionless? Hell’s teeth, was he mistaken! She’d fucked the pair of them into a storm of sexual excitement. Monster taboos were ripping themselves apart. Dominion killed. She fucked mortal man. Here they were in a castle they’d stolen from the town. And here comes food that Dominion had extorted from the saps. If they hadn’t delivered, Dominion would have killed their children one by one until they’d relented.

  Good one, Dominion. And, good God yes … Good one, Elsa. I’m glad what I did with Karl. It’s the first time in
years that I feel as if I’m a living, breathing woman. I’ve no regrets. None at all. She craved the taste of his mouth on her tongue. The heat of his fire still burned inside her belly.

  What’s that? Elsa heard an angry voice. One of the posse, a white-haired man, was pointing at the stack of food beside the portcullis. ‘Do you know something, you bloody shower of shits? We can’t spare this. Do you know what it’s like to hear children crying with hunger?’

  Mayor Jackson approached. He was unarmed but the rest held their shotguns in a way that suggested it wouldn’t take much to provoke them into letting fly a storm of lead.

  The white-haired man wasn’t letting this drop. ‘We shouldn’t be feeding this pack of corpses. Why don’t we get this food back on the truck and leave these things to rot.’

  Mayor Jackson spoke. ‘I gave them my word.’

  ‘Break it. Look! They’re monsters … just a bunch of Frankensteins. They—’

  ‘Harold. You know we’ve no choice. You heard what they’d do to our children if we didn’t comply.’

  ‘You think this shower of shit would have the guts to kill our babies?’

  ‘Harold, go back to the car. We’ll deal with this.’

  So it goes, Elsa told herself. These humans hate us. Yet they’re compelled by Dominion to feed us. And they’ve barely enough food themselves.

  The scene in front of her seemed as bizarre as it was tense. Lit by the cars’ lights was the truck in front of the open portcullis. Her fellow God Scarers emerged from the castle to watch the saps unload boxes of food. Dominion stood by the truck, making sure they did just that. Caitlin moved close to Paul. Her allegiance to these creatures – these freaks of science – must have enraged every one of the human beings present. Especially Caitlin’s father, the mayor.