39
With night came a hunger and lust for human flesh so intense it made him double over and groan. When Sam crawled out from the cellar it was a laboured task, which left him kneeling on all fours in the ashes and needing to take a few deep breaths to compose himself before rising to his feet. Unsteady, he slowly made his way toward the bridge and the intact city beyond.
The wind had a definite bite to it but Sam hardly noticed as he ghosted the city streets, ravaged by turmoil. The evening was still young and more people were afoot, although few seemed happy about being so. Those who came too close sensed something not right, something wild and likely to lash out if startled and even on the busiest of thoroughfares, people crossed the street to avoid him.
It was a battle to keep the inner beast under control. He could almost smell the blood pumping around the bodies of those he passed and their raucous laughter rang like bells in his head. He longed to quiet them. He yearned to feast on their flesh and drink their blood.
A young boy, with tousled hair and dressed in rags, came running over and looked up at Sam with big brown eyes. “Ere, Mister,” he announced himself. “Want to buy some lucky charms do ya’?” He pulled from his pocket a collection of twigs, stones and rabbits’ feet.
Sam steeled himself against the compulsion to rip the boy’s head clean from his shoulders and peered out from beneath his hood. A snarl contorted his face. The boy ran, screaming something about the devil. Sam pulled his hood tighter and picked up his pace, not wanting to draw attention to himself.
Two men were brawling outside a tavern while a circle of onlookers jeered them on. Their aggression was infectious and the atmosphere was charged with it. Sam faltered in his step, then braced himself to continue. He dared not look at them for fear the beast would completely take over and he’d be powerless to do anything but tear into the men and the gathered crowd. He was greedy for them.
One of them drew a knife and moments later the other was doubled over clutching at his stomach. Sam stopped dead in his tracks. Twitching. The aroma of blood was overpowering and he needed it. Only the presence of so many witnesses stopped him from acting. He had no desire for his killing to be any more complicated than it need be and so he broke himself free of the blood-smell and quickened his pace away from the fight.
Before long though, he spotted a drunk weaving his way around a corner and into an alley. Sam slipped silently in behind him. The man was singing; slurring some old song about how he’d lost his love. Sam moved close and clamped a hand over his mouth. The drunk reeked of alcohol and urine and Sam ended his life quickly in a killing borne out of necessity rather than enjoyment, but as silence once more reclaimed the alley and the beast feasted, Sam felt nothing but elation.
With his senses returned and his hunger sated, guilt hit home like a hammer blow, leaving him feeling soiled and wrong, like the monster he was. He vowed never to kill again, but knew it was a lie. At least his head was clear and he once again had control over his thoughts.
He needed to find a room, somewhere to stay rather than the cellar at his old house with all the memories which still haunted there. He wasn’t that person anymore and with each passing day, Sam, the boy who’d survived, was fading out of existence; slowly but surely being replaced by the beast which had invaded his body, growing in size and strength, spreading through him like a cancer, binding to the fabric of his being and twining around it like choking ivy.
He jangled the purse he’d taken from the bandits on the road, fully aware it wouldn’t last for ever. Although plenty of time had passed since he’d put it there, he decided to go in search of the treasure he and Joshua had collected.
Walking back out onto the main city streets was tolerable now he’d eaten. It didn’t take every last drop of his will just to stop himself from killing everyone he saw and he walked past them with ease, smiling to himself from behind his hood. Those he met coming the other way still gave the monk a wide berth though.
The fields outside the city walls were largely unchanged from how he remembered them. A dark patch of ground and scorched bones scattered in the grass marked where the dump had been. Sam went past it and was soon following a dry stone wall to where he knew his gold was hidden. The tree too was how he remembered it; the last of its autumn leaves gone past golden to brown and most were lying on the ground around its foot. The hole where he’d hidden his treasure was lower than he remembered, testament to how much he’d grown, but he still had to climb to reach in. All his hand came across was the remnants of an old birds nest.
It was the same in all the other places he tried, whether he dug holes or looked under rocks there was not a single coin, not one earing, to be found. It was as if there had never been any loot in the first place. Some hiding places had been shared with Joshua, but not all and between them they’d made sure the treasure was so randomly and far spread out that it would be unlikely for all the places to be discovered by strangers. It would take months of hard digging to uncover all their stash if someone didn’t know exactly where to look.
Too many had been emptied for mere coincidence which left Sam with one conclusion; that Joshua had taken it. Part of him was overjoyed at the clue his friend was alive, or at least had been, but his elation was tinged with anger. Joshua must have been watching all the times Sam thought he was acting in secret.
He fetched the purse from his pocket again and counted out the few coins he did have. There was enough to last a short while, as long as he lived frugally and so any room he did find needed to be cheap. It also had to be one which didn’t ask too many questions of its clientele. After wandering the streets until after midnight he found the kind of place he was looking for, tucked away in a back alley.
Sam went in and found a seat in the corner furthest from the fireplace, and tried to gain the attention of someone to serve him. A harried looking girl was serving and she flitted around the tables, deftly dodging wandering hands from men seated on long benches. Sam’s weren’t the only eyes to follow her around the room. While he watched her work and waited for her to approach, he was listening to the conversations on other tables, trying to glean news and gossip or any other information which might be useful or interesting. Most of what he heard was useless drunken babble and banter.
“What’ll it be?” The girl had reached his table and was standing next to him, looking harried.
Sam asked for a beer and while she weaved back between the benches to fetch it, he fetched out his purse and rummaged through it. When he looked up again, the girl was bent over the table to place his tankard down. Her top hung loose, revealing an ample pale, tender cleavage. Lust kindled in him; an ache which demanded satisfaction, albeit easier to resist than his blood lust of earlier. Only when she gave a small cough did he realise he was staring. His eyes moved up to meet hers, looking at him through ringlets which had fallen over a freckled face. She straightened and held out a hand while Sam fumbled to pay and although he could scant afford it, he placed an extra copper in her hand as a tip.
“Do you have rooms?” he asked as she turned to leave.
“I’ll find out,” she replied over her shoulder without smiling.
By the time he’d finished his drink the girl still hadn’t returned with news of the room. He caught her attention once again and beckoned her over. After serving a couple more customers she came to the table and Sam was careful about where his eyes roamed. She noticed and smiled, but with an air of impatience.
“What’ll it be?” It was a question she repeated a hundred times a night.
“Did you find out about the room?”
For a moment she looked flustered, grasping for the memory of his request. “I’ll go and ask now,” she said by way of an apology. Sam ordered another drink to ease his wait.
“Did I hear you’re after a room?” A rangy, tired looking man sidled onto the bench next to him.
“I was,” Sam replied.
“I might ‘ave somewhere. Cheaper ‘n ‘ere and priva
te too.” Both were qualities which appealed to Sam.
“Where is it?” he asked.
“Not far,” said the man. “Above me shop.”
“What do you do?”
“Cooper.” He smiled and held out a hand. “The name’s James.”
Sam took his hand and shook it. It was calloused from honest work.
Just then the girl returned with the beer and as she placed it down, Sam watched James peering down her top. “I’ll just go and see about your room,” she said.
“Don’t bother.” Said Sam apologetically, before emptying his tankard in three long swigs. “Shall we go look at this room then?” he asked James, wiping foam from around his mouth.
40
The night was getting colder. The wind was picking up and carried with it a chill from the hills. James walked with his arms wrapped tightly around himself for warmth. Sam hardly noticed the cold; it was a sensation, but not an unpleasant one.
“So when did all the people come back?” he asked to break the silence, but also because he was genuinely interested in what had happened to the city during his absence.
“Come back?”
“Yes, after the plague. I’m surprised there are so many already.”
“Oh, I didn’t come back. Never set foot in the place other than to go to market before everyone died. Then there was no market and all we got was folks coming to our village wanting feeding and spreading disease. Wasn’t a good time.” His stare had gone off into the distance as he remembered. “We got by, and tried to help as much as we could, telling ourselves it would only be for a short while but in the end the food ran out. People were starving you know.
“But we clung on, waiting for harvest. That would have made it all better but no, it wasn’t to be. Just as we started picking, and the mill started to turn again, they came demanding grain and taxes. Well, we had no money to pay them and so I had to come here to earn my keep.”
“Who’s they?” asked Sam.
“Bastards the lot of ‘em.” He spat on the ground.
“Who?”
“No more than petty thieves and bullies…”
As James lunched into a full-fledged and well-practiced rant, Sam’s became distracted by two women standing on a street corner; brightly dressed in scarlet and green, legs and cleavage on display. With their painted lips they smiled in Sam’s direction and one of them raised a hand to give him a small wave. His nostrils twitched at the smell of cheap perfume in the air.
The creature inside him was seething and squirming like maggots eating their way from a corpse. James’ voice faded to a muted babble and the street blurred as the women became his sole focus. His teeth clenched and his hands made fists, nails digging into his palms with the effort it took to keep walking by. As he moved down the street, with James next to him, his head turned until he was facing backwards. The spell was broken only when they rounded a corner and the women disappeared from view, leaving Sam with an unfounded but deep sense of disappointment.
“Surely someone should do something?” Sam cut into James’ monologue mid-sentence.
James shot him a quizzical look. “Like who?” he said in such a way that Sam wondered how much of the conversation he’d missed.
He was saved from asking questions which may have already been answered when they turned into a side alley and James announced that they’d arrived. Sam looked around, the surroundings were familiar. It took a few moments but he realised they were in the same district as the forge where Pa had once worked.
James led him through a gate and into a small courtyard where barrels, both old and new, were stacked three or four high along the walls. Some were teetering, as if the slightest nudge would send them cascading to the ground and Sam gave them a wide berth in case he accidentally knocked them down. Old beams formed the posts for a rickety lean-to, beneath which were scattered the coopers’ tools.
James removed a key from his pocket and set it to a small door at the back of the lean-to. He wrestled with the lock for a few moments before the key turned with a clunk and the door swung inwards just a little before catching on the floor. James set his shoulder to it and lifted it a little before pushing his way in. “It’s a good sturdy door when you get used to it,” he apologised.
Inside was a workshop of sorts. By its emptiness, Sam guessed James preferred to do his work outdoors. Immediately to the right was an open wooden staircase which looked ready to collapse.
“Hang on a minute,” muttered James as he fumbled to find a lamp hanging on the wall. “Pitch black in here.”
Sam reminded himself to keep up his charade; not everyone could see in the dark.
The cooper went up the stairs first, holding the lamp before him. Each step groaned beneath his weight and Sam followed silently up behind. Two doors led off a small landing. James turned to the one on the left and opened it. "It's not much," he said, "but it's cheap."
The room was sparsely furnished but there was a bed crammed under the rafters and a table and chair. It was more than sufficient for Sam's needs, and he was given his own key, allowing him to come and go as he pleased.
"No family?" asked Sam while they were still standing on the landing, about to go into his room. He presumed the other room belonged to James and upon hearing no noise, made the assumption he lived alone.
James shuffled his feet and glanced to one side. "Back at Arndale."
"Arndale?"
"Home. The village I was telling you about."
Sam didn't enquire further than that and walked over to the bed while James stayed in the doorway, giving instructions on how to work the stove downstairs and the peculiarities of the outhouse.
"You can pay me in the morning," said James. "It's late and I'm going to bed. Goodnight."
"Sleep well," replied Sam before the door was closed and he was left on his own. He lay on the bed, his head only just below the rafters, and closed his eyes. To any casual observer he would have appeared as if he were meditating, calm and at peace. It wasn't the case. He was struggling to contain the beast residing inside his fleshy shell. More and more it threatened to consume him. He knew that if left unchecked it would, but at the same time he relished the raw power which flowed through him and he embraced the ancient, primal urges which excited his every nerve. Pleasures of the flesh overwhelmed his thoughts, until merely functioning became an impossibility. However, the more he gave into his urges, the more difficult it was becoming to get the beast back on a tight leash.
He rose from the bed and headed back out into the night.
“Looking for a good time me dear?” one of the two women asked as he approached.
He looked her up and down and took a deep breath. “Yes. Yes I am. Would you be able to help perchance?”
“I think I can." Her lips curled into a well-practiced smile. She looked cold, as if she’d been standing on the corner for a while. Sam knew it was at least as long as it had taken him and James to sort out their arrangements.
“Well follow me then,” she said. “Looks like it’s your lucky night.” With that she turned back to the alley, waiting for him to follow. A couple of turnings later and they came to a tall but narrow terraced building. The window frames were peeling and the door was half rotten. She lifted it slightly before pushing it open, cursing as she did and having to step aside momentarily to allow a scrawny man to exit. He was fiddling with his belt and eyed them shiftily with a weasel-like stare before vanishing into the city.
“This way,” she said to Sam once they were inside. The bare floorboards in the entrance hall were grimy and splintered. Three doors led off to rooms unseen and a rickety, steep staircase led up to the next level. The first step groaned as the lady stood on it and beckoned Sam to follow. He took a breath and followed her up.
The room was almost as bare as the hallway, apart from the bed which appeared to be made of old crates and fitted with a dirty straw mattress. A small table stood next to it and sitting on it was a wooden bowl filled with w
ater. She went to the bed and began unlacing her blouse without hesitation while Sam stood just inside the door, unsure what to do with himself, transfixed by her breasts and the long white scars which ran at angles across them.
“Well,” she said, “Come on then.”
Hesitantly, he removed his robe; strangely embarrassed at revealing his young body. She ran her eyes over him and licked her lips.
When he took a step toward her, she stopped him and pointed to the bowl of water. “You have to wash,” she said.
Sam took some of the water in his hands and began to rub his armpits. “Not there!” she laughed.
After a moment of confusion he noticed her eyes focussed upon his proud member. The water looked as if it needed changing, and as he scooped some up and rubbed it on himself he wondered how many had done the same before him. He paused, but was powerless to stop what he was about to do.
“That’ll do,” she said after only a moment. “There’s no point you being here if you’re going to do it yourself. Now, how do you want me?”
He walked over to where she lay without a word, all the time holding her eyes and when he got within reach she took him in her hand, guiding him toward the small patch of hair between her legs. The cool softness of her skin felt good next to his but that’s not where his focus lay as he slid into her, sampling her wares.
He tried to kiss her mouth but she turned her head and pushed him away. He didn’t care; lust had him in its grip and he was powerless to resist. The thin veil of humanity he still had fell away, revealing the full nature of the creature which had made a home within him.
She peered into the bottomless pools which passed as eyes and screamed. In an instant he had his hand clamped over her mouth, pushing her head to one side and revealing her tender, pale neck. He bit down hard.
The Dark Stone Page 19