Smithy’s headless corpse smacked the flagstones of the driveway, sending a jet of blood shooting from the open neck.
Montgomery, all mouths revealed and licking the air with thin tongues, padded over and ripped chunks of flesh from the open wound.
Morning Tea
1.
Eleanor called the house meeting immediately. Jenny and the children remained upstairs while the others gathered in the living room. Anne and Eleanor sat close together on the sofa. Jake and Frank sat in armchairs with Joe stood by the window.
“We need to do something,” said Joe. “The longer we wait, the worse our situation is becoming.” He pointed to the window. “People are being slaughtered out there, innocent people who have nothing to do with this.”
“I still can’t see how we have anything to do with this,” said Frank. “If your insane theory about this blue fire, this mana, is true, why hasn’t he gone? The fire’s gone.”
Joe released a long sigh. “There’s only one way to find out.”
“Talk to him,” said Anne from the sofa. Eleanor patted her clenched hands.
“I still think it’s too risky,” said Frank, crossing his arms defiantly.
“Remember,” said Eleanor, “that although he’s attacked the house, he hasn’t really tried to attack us. That pet of his went after Charlie, but he called it off. The Prowlers only attacked because the mana was here. Maybe he can sense when it appears. I’m sure if he wanted to, he could barge straight in and butcher us all in an instant.”
Everyone fell quiet.
“But he hasn’t. I still think he needs us alive and that is where we have an advantage.”
Jake, fidgeting with the head of the hammer, looked up.
“What about my brother then, eh? He didn’t seem too bothered about keeping him alive, did he?”
“I’m sorry, Jake,” said Eleanor. “I’m trying to think of our situation like a game of chess. He wants to take the king, the mana, which he thinks we’re protecting. The way he’s playing, it’s on the high offensive. He wanted to take one of our pieces away to show his opponent an…an early dominance, if you will. At the moment, all our pieces are gathered in the corner of the board. We’re surrounded. Sure, he’ll try and send a few of his pieces through, but remember, it’s the king he’s after.”
“Keeping in with this stupid analogy,” said Frank. “We have a problem. There is no king! The fire has gone.”
“Yeah,” said Jake, waving the hammer. “So why don’t we go on the offensive?”
“You’re not listening!” Eleanor moaned.
“So what do you propose?” said Frank. “We just lie back and let him do whatever he wants?”
“No. If we talk to him, find out more, there could be some way to come to an arrangement, a stalemate.”
Frank got up and started towards the doorway.
“Where are you going?” asked Joe. “We need to discuss this.”
“I’m going for a coffee,” said Frank. “This is crazy. We can’t just pop out for a chat. He’s a psychopath!”
Anne jumped up and grabbed his arm.
“Frank, don’t go. He’s right, we need to talk about this.”
“There’s nothing to talk about. We can’t approach him and that’s the end of it! Don’t tell me you’re actually considering this?”
“Two people have died this morning, and Adam was killed last night,” she said. “By us doing nothing…I can’t live with that.” She swallowed. “We can take precautions…”
“Precautions?” laughed Frank. “He has an army of monsters out there! What precautions could you possibly take?”
She started to shake him, but he shrugged her off.
“Don’t you care that people are being killed because of us?” she demanded.
“A milkman and a greasy teenager. Big loss.”
Anne’s mouth screwed up, and her eyes narrowed at her husband.
“How dare you,” she growled.
“Come on,” said Frank. “Prioritise! We’re okay, aren’t we? Better them then us, right Jake?”
“Actually,” said Jake, “I’d like to hear what the man has to say.” He returned his attention to the hammer that lay in his lap.
“I see,” fumed Frank, looking around at the blank faces that stared back at him. “Seems you’ve all decided and once again, my opinion doesn’t mean a thing. Fine.”
He stormed out, but paused in the hall. He turned back to face them.
“Some of you might be stupid enough to go out there,” he jabbed a finger towards the front door, “but not me. And I tell you something else: over my dead body is he stepping foot inside this house!”
2.
Eleanor stood in the hall, facing the front door. She nervously chewed her bottom lip.
Joe gently put his hands on her shoulders.
“Are you sure you want to do this? I can come with you if you like.”
She reached up and patted his hand, barely feeling the arthritis that flared in her finger joints.
“This is the best way, Joseph,” she said, meeting his eyes. “Just make sure that you close that door behind me straight away.”
He gripped her a little harder.
“I…I can’t let you do this,” he said. “After what happened to the milkman and the kid…”
“Joseph?”
“Yes?”
“Since your mother and father died, I have done my utmost to look after you. I’m not going to stop now. This is the only way we’re going to get out of this. Don’t worry, I don’t think any harm will come of me. Just don’t let any of his things in here.”
Joe nodded. He hugged her.
“If anything happens, you know we’ll be straight out there to come and get you.”
She patted his hands again.
“Nothing will happen, trust me.”
Eleanor looked around the narrow hall at the anxious faces gathered there.
“Are we ready?” she asked.
“Remember what we agreed,” said Frank. He’d started to sweat again, his scalp shining through his thin hair. “And for the record, I’m still against this.”
Anne and Jake both stared at the floor.
“Open the door, Joseph,” she said. “And be ready, just in case.”
Joe grabbed the doorknob and flicked the lock open with his thumb.
Anne looked up. “God be with you.”
Eleanor smiled at her and then nodded to Joe.
He swung the door open.
The day was radiant, clear as it had been earlier that week. The late morning sun bounced with intensity off the Harper’s garden path, making the flagstones appear to have a golden shimmer.
Eleanor stepped outside.
“Close the door, Joseph.”
Joe stood in the doorway behind her, scanning the immediate garden and the road beyond.
“Now, Joseph!”
He swallowed and slowly closed the door. The lock clicked shut.
Eleanor tilted her face skywards, enjoying the warmth of the sun on her skin after being trapped in the dark all night. She had always been one for the outdoors, spending pleasant afternoons reading in the back garden or weeding and planting when her aching joints allowed. For a moment, the soothing heat lulled her to feel everything was back to normal. Her heart reminded her otherwise. It beat a frantic, adrenaline-fuelled rhythm against her brittle ribs.
Better get this over with, she thought. Or else I might end up keeling over right here with a stroke.
She took a small step forwards, but froze as a bush at the end of the garden path began to rustle.
Eleanor waited a moment, standing completely rigid.
The leaves parted and a Prowler scuttled out and paused on the grass. The sun gleamed off its smooth black body, highlighting the insect-like joints of its legs and claws. It stared at Eleanor with its unblinking eye.
She slowly turned her head towards the living room window to the left of the front door. Although the
nailed-up door blocked most of the glass, she spied the concerned faces filling the square peepholes.
Eleanor, still moving extremely slowly and carefully, raised a hand towards them, signalling to stay inside. The Prowler stood its ground. If Joe came charging out of the house, it might be spurred to attack.
The Prowler watched her a little longer, the eyeball moving in the shell of its body with horrible slimy squelches. Without warning, it turned away and crawled up the low garden wall. Jumping down on the other side, it dashed up the street and away.
She blew out a very long sigh of relief, putting a hand to her racing chest. With a deep breath, she headed down the garden path.
She constantly looked around, examining the other bushes and foliage in the garden. Frank’s car stood parked in front of the garage to her right. The dark strip beneath worried her, and Eleanor was sure she heard something under there. She also noticed that the car was rested on four flat tyres, the thick rubber crisscrossed with wide gashes.
I’ll have to tell the others, she thought. Whatever plans they were making, they can forget about the car.
She reached the garden gate without seeing another Prowler. Stepping out onto the street, she looked right to where Penny Crescent met the main road. Nobody walked by, nor did any cars drive past.
She wiped a hand across her slick forehead. A glance back showed everyone still watching. She imagined Jenny still upstairs with the children, still oblivious to what was going on.
Eleanor turned left and headed towards her own house.
She left the Harper house behind and passed the grassy patch that separated her home from the boundary. Approaching her house, she was surprised at how well it had fared. Besides a smashed downstairs window, she failed to spot any other signs of the Prowler invasion.
Eleanor scanned the street.
Everything stood still and unnaturally quiet. The patrolling group of Prowlers they had observed all morning had vanished.
Where are you? she thought. I know you haven’t gone. You enjoy the game too much.
A noise, like impatient fingernails tapping on a desk top, started behind her. She turned to face her house.
On the wooden porch, two of the larger Prowlers had emerged from the open front door and stood watching her, on guard. Eleanor had only seen one close to the size of these two. Jake had killed it in the kitchen.
Sounds from above.
Prowlers climbed in abundance over the roof from the back of the house. They darted out of the broken window to clamber across the outside walls. The front door contained a writhing mass of darkness until the Prowlers spilled out and streaked across the house like a giant stroke of black paint.
Eleanor gasped and stepped back. Her confidence in not being harmed had quickly diminished.
From deep within her home, she heard footsteps over the quietened chirps and clicks from the hundreds of Prowlers. Out of the front door and between the two Prowler guards, strode The Collector.
He stopped at the edge of the porch. The bright sunlight caught in his deep blue eyes. Despite her fear and hatred of the man, Eleanor couldn’t help but see the beauty in those ice-cold spheres. He removed his bowler to mop his brow with a white handkerchief, revealing more combed red hair.
“Quite a morning,” he said, replacing the hat. “Nice and hot, although…” He laughed. “I’ve known it be hotter!” The Collector folded the handkerchief and poked it into his breast pocket. “So, Eleanor McGuire, what brings you out on such a grand day? Tired of the company, I’d imagine. Nothing like a short walk to clear one’s head. Have you thought any more of what I require?”
“The…the mana?” her voice croaked out as terror squeezed her throat, nearly making her gag.
He nodded.
“Are you finally ready to hand it over?”
Eleanor coughed and felt the world spin. She closed her eyes and concentrated, desperate not to faint.
“First,” she said, opening her eyes after the disorientation had passed, “we wish to talk.”
“We?” he asked, raising a red eyebrow.
“Yes,” she lied. “All of us.”
“Hmmm,” he said. “Interesting. I appreciate you’re as eager to end this as I am. My…employers must be growing extremely impatient. Yes…interesting.” He paused, staring up into the sky. “Yes. I will convene with you, but only if one’s safety is guaranteed.”
Eleanor quickly nodded. “But you must come alone,” she said. “Not one of these…” she gestured around the outside of the house, “things must enter. And any sudden headaches in anyone, and you will be made to leave.”
The Collector laughed.
“Understandable, old woman. For the time spent inside that house, the weapons of war shall be placed aside in mutual agreement. I am, in fact, looking forward to a more civilised meeting. Are we all involved in this agreement?”
Eleanor nodded again.
“Peculiar,” said The Collector, his eyes drifting, deep in thought.
Eleanor retreated a few steps, away from the Prowler covered house.
“If we’re done, I will wait for you at the house,” she said. “Please respect our arrangement.”
“Indeed,” he replied. “But if I could just request one more thing, Eleanor McGuire?”
“What?”
“Will refreshments be provided?” He licked his lips. “I do so enjoy a hot cup of tea while engaging in conversation.”
“I…I’ll see what I can do,” said Eleanor.
“Excellent!” He rubbed his hands together. “Allow me a few minutes to freshen up, and I’ll be straight over.”
3.
The living room was silent as a tomb as they sat waiting for his arrival. Anne, on the sofa, clenched her hands, staring at the floor. Jake sat rigid in an armchair, his eyes closed. Frank paced in front of the window, occasionally shaking his head.
They all gasped as a figure stepped through the doorway.
Joe emerged holding a tray loaded with mugs filled with steaming drinks.
“I hope no one minds,” he said, “but we had to use the hot tap again.”
Anne shook her head and waved her hand away. “I think I’ll throw up if I eat or drink anyway.”
“Well, it’s here if you want it,” he said. “Jake?”
The teenager shook his head also.
Eleanor walked in behind Joe. Her legs hadn’t stopped shaking, and she held a hand against the wall for support.
“I can’t believe we’re doing this,” said Frank, snatching up the offered cup of coffee from the tray. Some of the hot, brown liquid splashed over the side, forming a small puddle on the tray next to the biscuits. “After everything that’s happened, this is our plan? A goddamn tea party?”
“My grandmother says he was very calm and polite,” said Joe, “friendly, even. I’m not sure we can trust him, but let’s not try anything until he does. Let’s all stay alert, but keep our distance. That okay with everyone?”
Anne nodded.
“Frank?”
“Well, there’s not a lot more we can do, is there?” he said, taking a large swig.
“Not going to head-butt him again, then?” smirked Jake.
“Think you can behave as well?” Joe asked him.
Jake stayed sat in the armchair, eyes still closed.
“Jake?”
“What?” he said, only moving his lips.
“Think you can sit through this?”
“Whatever…”
“Where’s the hammer? He might get the wrong idea if he sees it and-”
“Upstairs,” said Jake, cutting him off. “It’s with my mum. I didn’t tell her what was going on, but asked her to keep hold of it.”
Eleanor slowly lowered herself onto the sofa next to Anne.
“I know this seems weird,” said Joe, “but it’s the only option we have. He won’t let us escape, we have to…”
He stopped at the sound of a tuneful knock at the door.
“
That’s a real faggot’s knock,” said Jake quietly.
“What?” asked Joe.
“Something Adam and me…never mind. Isn’t someone going to get that?”
Joe deposited the tray on the small coffee table and took a deep breath. “I’ll go. Are we all ready?”
“As we’ll ever be,” said Anne. Her eyes had already started to fill with tears.
“Right,” said Joe, and left the room.
He slowly walked to the front door, feeling like he trawled through a muddy swamp instead of across a thick, red carpet. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed the doorknob with a trembling hand and flicked the lock. With another long and deep breath, he swung the door open.
Joe had expected some kind of beast – a man with three eyes or fangs or claws or something as equally grotesque. He’d seen the man close up before, but hadn’t paid much attention. Now, knowing the truth, he studied the man that stood at the doorstep.
He looked relatively normal. The suit was slightly peculiar: jet-black with tiny golden buttons that ran the length of the jacket. It reached a little too long, giving it an almost Victorian look. His stark red hair made him look like a circus performer and his eyes, the two lagoons of deep blue, swallowed Joe’s attention.
Joe stood with his mouth hung open, still holding onto the door.
“Joseph McGuire. We meet again.”
He held out his hand. Joe looked at it, his face contorted in confusion. Was he really expected to shake hands with this monster?
“I see,” said The Collector, withdrawing the offered hand. “I understand that under these strained circumstances one’s etiquette may suffer, but that’s not a problem.”
He removed his bowler hat and held it under his arm.
“You…you’d better come in,” said Joe. With the wolf at the door, the thought of allowing him into the house now felt like a mistake. He just wanted to slam the door in the murderer’s face and run screaming.
“Right you are,” said The Collector, stepping past Joe and into the house. Strange smells radiated off the man. Was it the beach? No, it was sand…sand and baking heat…
The Collector Book One: Mana Leak Page 30