Dark Seduction
Page 14
She looked up and for a brief moment, she thought she saw the faces hiding in the caravan's design contort in pain, and among them, she imagined she saw Melantha's sardonic visage.
She started to stand as they careered over a bump in the road, almost throwing her off. She grabbed the edge of the caravan, and just managed to save herself, straining her arms to pull herself back until she stood upright. Without hesitating any longer, she grabbed the latch, opened the door and dived through the doorway.
Pots and pans hanging from the ceiling jangled together like percussion instruments and she ducked to avoid them as they swung around her head. In the near dark, she strained her eyes to see, just able to make out Barrabas, legs spread out to ride the variances of the caravan as it bobbed and rocked like a ship in turbulent seas.
“This is the end of the road for you,” Barrabas said, laughing.
She heard the click of the gun as he pumped a cartridge into the breech, but before he could fire, she charged towards him, screaming. She brandished the knife like an artist with a brush, generating sweeping strokes on a living canvas.
Rendered in blood, hers was no oil painting.
She found the act of killing easy. Too easy. Deep down, she realised what they had done to her in the Shadowland wasn't only purchased with pain. They took a piece of her humanity as well. The armour the albino man bestowed upon her wasn’t physical, but mental, allowing her to kill with impunity.
Barrabas slumped to the ground, bleeding profusely, his throat cut from ear to ear like a grotesque clown. The blood pooled around his body, seemed to soak into the wood, staining it a rich mahogany colour.
She checked his body for the book; found it in the inside pocket of his jacket. The caravan came to a stop, and she opened the rear door and stepped down onto the road where a puffing Leo ran to join her.
“Is he dead?” Leo asked, hands holding his sides as his chest rose and fell.
Verity nodded. She lifted the book and flicked through the pages. There were so many names in alphabetical order. When she came across her family’s lineage, she bit down hard on her lip and traced her finger down the page until she came across her own name.
Angry, she snapped the book shut and looked up at the caravan. She thought she saw Barrabas's grinning countenance added to that of the other visages trapped in the wood.
“This is what I think of your damn book,” she said, tearing pages from it and throwing them into the sky like confetti.
With the last of the book shredded, Verity only hoped there were no other copies out there.
Zen sat at the side of the road, puffing on a cigarette as Verity and Leo approached.
“Did you find it?” he asked.
Lightning flickered overhead, throwing long shadows beneath its glare.
“Found it and destroyed it,” Verity said.
“Good.” Zen coughed, wincing as his injuries flared up in response. “I feel partly responsible, you know, with her being my mother and all.”
“You couldn’t stop what she did,” Leo said.
“Maybe.” Zen didn’t feel as sure. If Melantha hadn’t been raped, and he hadn’t been born, perhaps none of this would have happened.
His mother’s blood stained his hands, but he knew the stain went deeper and that he would never be able to wash it out.
“We’d better get your injuries seen to,” Verity said, “then I’ve got a few bridges to build with my brothers. If I’ve learned one thing, it’s that family’s important.” She crouched down and helped Leo lift Zen to his feet.
Once upright, Zen eased himself out of their grasp. “Sorry, but I’m not going with you.”
Verity frowned. “You need to get to a hospital.”
“I know. But there’s somewhere else they’ll be able to fix me up even better. The albino man told me that I carry a bit of the darkness in my heart, and I think he’s right. Strange as it sounds, I felt more at home in the Shadowland than anywhere I’ve ever been. I’ve always felt as though I was on the outside lookin’ in, now I know why. Besides, there’s nothing left here for me any more. I guess it’s true what they say. Home is where the heart is.”
Lightning ripped across the sky, throwing Zen’s shadow across the road, a path leading into darkness.
Zen followed it, and he didn’t look back.
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About the author:
Shaun Jeffrey was brought up in a house in a cemetery, so it was only natural for his prose to stray towards the dark side when he started writing. He has had five novels published, ‘Killers’, ‘The Kult’, ‘Deadfall’, ‘Fangtooth’ and ‘Evilution’, and two collections of short stories, ‘The Mutilation Machination’ and ‘Voyeurs of Death’. Among his other writing credits are short stories published in Cemetery Dance, Surreal Magazine, Dark Discoveries and Shadowed Realms. The Kult was optioned for film by Gharial Productions.
Visit the author's site at: http://www.shaunjeffrey.com
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