‘Phone call for you, Steve,’ his mother calls through the wooden barrier. ‘Sarah.’
Star? What does she want? Why now? His body tingles in response to her name. ‘Okay, I’ll take it up here,’ he shouts. ‘Star,’ he says as he lifts the receiver.
‘Hi Steve,’ she answers. ‘How are you?’
The melody of her voice fills his head. He presses his hand against the wall and closes his eyes. ‘Fine thanks. What do you want?’
‘I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have … ’ her voice drifts into silence.
Satori replies before she can put the phone down again. ‘It’s okay. I’m just surprised to hear from you. You kinda made it obvious you didn’t want to see me again.’ A tear tickles his cheek and he brushes it away, but he keeps his voice steady.
‘I had a vision, about you,’ she tells him. ‘That’s why I phoned. I was worried. However you’re fine, so I’ll go now.’
‘No! Wait!’ he says. ‘Please come over.’
Chapter 4
‘Steve, what have you done?’ Sarah sits on Steve’s bed. Her eyes scan the room once more.
He hasn’t bothered opening his curtains, but even in the gloom she can see his frantic work. Half marvelling at the intricacy of many of the designs and the sheer dedication shown, she despairs at this new evidence of his deranged mind. At her feet she sees a crumpled photo. She bends to pick it up, but Steve is too fast and snatches it away before she can turn it over. She frowns at him. There is no point in fighting him for the picture. She already knows whose face fills its glossy surface.
Last night, sitting in her living room with Raven and Donna, she had felt a sudden coldness creep over her. Instead of her flat she was here in this room. Steve had been naked and there had been all these markings …
He does not meet her stare. Instead he gazes at his feet as he scuffs out charcoal marks with the heel of his shoe.
‘Please, call me Satori,’ he asks.
Sarah laughs. Satori, you always were a pretentious bastard, weren’t you? She wonders why she came here, why she keeps allowing him to draw her back. If only I wasn’t so drawn to these people – Steve and Raven – they pull me under. Why am I so attracted to them? Fuck it! I’m not your Star any longer. I’m Sarah: practical, logical, sane Sarah.
That is why the vision is so cruel. Not only because, once again, she is faced with his image, but because she knows where it comes from, that hidden part, that secret part – the vortex deep inside her mind that she has struggled to cage for so many years.
‘Names are important,’ Steve replies, looking at her now. ‘Satori is a powerful name, and I need all the power I can muster right now.’
‘Okay, okay,’ she says, shaking her head. She is shocked by the weariness of his eyes, always so bright and alert when they were together. The instinct to embrace him rises inside her. She stops herself just in time. ‘What have you done? In my dream, I-I saw a knife and a girl … no a woman. Now I see all this chaos. What I saw was real, wasn’t it?’
‘I made a terrible mistake,’ he admits. ‘I thought … I thought I could control it, but it’s gone.’
‘I don’t understand. You’re always talking in riddles. Just tell me. What was it? What did I see?’ And how did I see it? Weariness and confusion move in waves across her mind. She knows how, but she will continue to deny it, even to herself.
‘I wanted to invoke a demon, just a lesser one, and channel some of its power. Maybe I could … well … change things … you know. It shouldn’t be like this.’ Pausing, his eyes search hers for a clue. When he speaks again he tries a different approach. ‘I followed all the instructions. These marks you keep staring at, they’re just for protection. It should have worked. I don’t know what went wrong.’
Without a word she stands up and tramples across his magic, desperate to reach the door, and escape his madness before she loses herself in it again. Her hand hovers at the door-handle. She relents and turns to face him.
‘Okay, so you’re weirder than I thought.’ She sees the pain curl his mouth. For the briefest moment his pain gives her pleasure but then the guilt bullies its way back in. ‘No, I’m sorry Steve … Satori. Fuck! So you tried a spell, a big one and it went wrong, right?’ She cannot believe she is having this conversation and yet the words keep pouring out of her.
He nods. ‘Something else came through. The woman. Well demon really - more powerful than I was expecting. She was beautiful and terrible. I couldn’t contain her.’
‘What, you mean there’s a demon in the city?’ she asks, coughing. Her body is shaking now. She doesn’t know how much longer she can stand here listening to this. The vortex inside bubbles and hisses. Shaking her head, her hand reaches behind her and touches the cold metal of the door-handle.
He nods.
She sighs, more madness. He should really see someone. This conversation is just feeding his psychosis, and yet a deeply buried part of her is intrigued: that evil, unclean cocoon in the core of her mind. The part she always tries to suppress, the part which had the vision. She almost had it under control, until last night. Chewing her knuckles, she thinks. Why do I keep seeing it: the tear and the darkness beyond it; it keeps calling to me. Why can’t I ignore it like the others? Why is it pushing me here? ‘And what does that mean, precisely?’
‘I don’t know. She terrifies me. I have to find some way to stop her. These books … they’re useless.’
‘So we need to find better books,’ Sarah says, not willing to let fear take over when she has logic to combat it, however skewed that logic might feel at this moment.
‘We?’ He shrugs then brightens a little. ‘Okay,’ he agrees. ‘We’ll find better books and we’ll stop her … together.’
We? Did I really say that? She bites her lip. There must be a way out of this. She notices his sudden transformation and is wary. Even covered in black smudges Steve is beautiful. At twenty-four he is the perfect Goth archetype. His body is so slender it is difficult to imagine him eating. He wears androgyny as though it were a style he created, his skin white even without makeup, and his hair - black and straight - shines like raven feathers as it falls around his narrow shoulders. And yet he is strong, very strong. Her thighs feel hot and weak. She grips the door-handle tightly and pushes it down until she hears it click.
He looks up at her from the bed and she feels herself melting. Why am I doing this? Is he the perfect boyfriend? Sure, he’s clever and sensitive and he loves with an all-consuming fire, but he is so obsessive and weird, even for a Goth, and when I’m with him … I’m weird too.
They stare at each other in silence. The graffiti-filled room gapes between them like a wound. One, two, three … the silence starts to shred Sarah’s nerves. I have to say something, but what? Goodbye seems too cold, too final.
‘Any idea where we should start?’ she asks. In that moment, silence’s spell is broken, and she plunges into a strange and unwelcome adventure.
‘Paul,’ he replies. ‘I’ll get my coat.’
‘If you’re coming outside with me you’ll shower first,’ she insists. ‘You look terrible.’
She wants to remind him that this doesn’t mean they are back together. But he leaves the room before she can form the right words. She digs her thumb and fingernail into the fleshy part of her forearm, pinching hard. A broken circle of purple and red marks her skin.
They walk together towards the bus stop. The pair of them march side by side, their long black coats flapping in the chill October breeze, their winkle-picker boots tapping out their beat in unison, and their pale faces set into looks of intelligent determination. She realises how much she has missed being with him. That he could love her, want to be with her, makes her feel extraordinary. Everything seems harder without him. Work is more tedious when she isn’t replaying their time together in her head, and she can barely tolerate Raven’s self-involved chatter any longer. The desire to leave, to run away to another town where no one knows her sits uncomfortabl
y beside her desire to lose herself in Steve’s arms again. She wants to walk closer to him, link her arm with his, and feel the power of their conjoined bodies. She wants to share his heat, but she shakes these feelings away.
The bus stop is empty. She reminds herself to avoid looking at the hateful graffiti which covers this side of the wall. Goths go to hell. Fuck off Freaks. Kill a Goth – go to heaven. Moshers are gay, and far more of the same theme. Relief that there isn’t a queue of strangers relaxes her body and she leans against the shelter wall.
‘Are you okay?’ Steve asks her.
It is the first time for a long time she has heard him ask about her. That he should care how she feels at a time like this softens her resolve still further. Head swimming, she gazes at his face. She sees her own reflection in his intelligent grey eyes. His is a face worth painting. Wondering why she never even sketched his portrait, she imagines his eyes as pools of rainwater suspended, as if by magic, in a face chiselled by Alexander Munro. Only his affectation of growing a tiny beard at the centre of his chin mars the image. She smiles looking at the sprouting dozen pale brown hairs. He tried to dye them black once, she remembers, what a mess he made.
‘I’m fine. A bit nervous I guess. What’s Paul like?’
‘Brilliant.’ Steve’s eyes shine. ‘He’s given me help and advice so many times. I’m sure he’ll know what to do, or at least have the books to look it up in.’
‘I hope you’re right.’ Falling back into silence, she concentrates on moving a piece of gravel around the pavement with her pointed toe.
Paul lives in a large house on the edge of the city. As they arrive at its gates, Steve presses a button on the telecom whispering into the microphone. The gates swing open and reveal a vista worthy of any Hammer Horror film. The mock-Tudor building has a sweeping driveway, complete with an avenue of skeletal trees.
‘Are you sure?’ she asks him.
‘Of course,’ he assures her.
‘Satori, welcome.’ The man in the doorway wears a blood red shirt and tight black trousers. His white hair is tied back into a ponytail. Sarah has no idea whether he is old or has lightened his hair. He has one of those ageless faces. He stares at her, waiting for an introduction. Steve’s arm sweeps towards her. He clasps her left hand and smiles.
‘Paul, this is Star,’ he says.
‘Ah, the Star,’ the man says, looking her up and down.
Is he sneering?
He moves to the side with a theatrical bow. ‘Enchanted. Please come in, come in.’
Sarah scowls as they are hurried through the wide hallway, with its high ceilings and dominant staircase, into a room on the right. The dancing flames of an open fire light the library with an ever changing, living glow. Sarah’s skin prickles, and she stands in the doorway shifting her weight from one foot to the other. In contrast to her own irritation, the men seem comfortable here, to the point at which it seems she is already forgotten. She wanders over to the nearest bookcase, scratching her itchy left palm as she walks.
The wall is filled with hundreds of hard-backed volumes. The first bookcase is dedicated to fiction. The works of Bram Stoker, Mary Shelley, Oscar Wilde and Huysmans stand comfortably shoulder to shoulder with Clive Barker, Graham Masterton and Steven King. Warming to the man a little she moves to the next bookcase. Paul and Steve are talking. Paul sounds excited.
‘Lilith,’ Paul says in hushed tones. ‘ … really … ?’
‘She … was,’ Steve answers, his confidence growing beneath Paul’s admiration. ‘But I didn’t invoke her. She told me she saw the door and came of her own accord. I couldn’t control her, and now she’s gone. Out there somewhere.’
‘And … find it?’
Sarah moves closer, Paul whispers too quietly for her to hear his side of the conversation. They don’t look up. They have become the centre of each other’s universe for the moment.
‘And stop her,’ Steve adds.
Paul pauses and rubs his chin with elegant fingers. ‘I have a few books which might help you.’ He looks across at Sarah and smiles. She shivers.
‘Won’t you come too?’ Steve asks. ‘We’ll be stronger together.’
‘It is tempting. My god. Lilith, here?’ he sighs as he reaches up for a book. ‘But no, I’m older than you. I’m a teacher not a soldier. My heart isn’t as strong as it used to be. Do you have any idea where it’s gone?’
‘Not yet,’ Steve says, taking the offered book from Paul’s hand.
Paul moves to another bookcase. ‘Well that shouldn’t be too difficult. We can dowse for it when we’re ready. I think I may have a fair idea as to where Lilith has been.’
‘What? How?’
Paul smiles, obviously at ease in the role of revered teacher. ‘You haven’t seen the news today, I presume?’
Sarah can feel tension building inside. She has to admire his showmanship. Steve shakes his head.
‘A body was found mutilated, near the old tobacco factories this morning. The police are clueless. I think it was probably your demon.’
Sarah’s heart beats faster. A murder? What the fuck? Is this what I signed up for? It feels too real, no longer the stuff of Gothic fairytales. Something shifts inside her. She feels it stretching. ‘No,’ she whispers and forces it back down. Her heart pounds against her ribs. Closing her eyes she tries to concentrate on calming her body. The internal battle makes her limbs shake. Fear and excitement tear at her stomach with vicious claws. She has to sit down. ‘This is nuts,’ she whispers.
‘What did the police say?’ Steve asks.
‘Well of course they haven’t mentioned demons, my dear boy. But it just felt supernatural, both the viciousness of the attack and its sexuality. I doubt a man would do that to another man, and a woman … couldn’t.’
‘What did she do?’ Sarah asks, uncertain as to whether she wants to hear the reply but intrigued in spite of herself.
‘It, my darling child, what did it do?’
Sarah grinds her teeth and looks away. The colour rises in her cheeks. She is tired of semantics, and of men trying to make her feel stupid.
‘I need to go,’ she says. Her body slows, her adventure aborted before it even starts.
Steve looks from her to Paul then back to her. Finally he stands up.
‘Which other books should I take?’ he asks.
‘Huh, oh yes, the books. Well, Satori, there are so many to choose from. It might be better if you stay here for a few days. We can research together and, of course, I have the practice room. Let me help you prepare. You need to be ready before you face Lilith. If you aren’t prepared who knows what it will do to you.’
‘But … Star what do you think? Can you stay?’ Steve asks.
Sarah feels the pendulum of power swing back towards her. Her face twitches as she fights a smile.
‘Oh, um yes, of course Star. I’d be delighted,’ Paul adds with a nod of his head. From her low vantage point she can see his mouth twist for a moment then relax.
‘I’ve got a really busy week, Steve,’ Sarah replies, noticing with some pleasure the way he flinches as she says his name. ‘If you do decide to stay I’ll let your mum know where you are.’ She glares at Paul as she says this, as if in warning. ‘What’s your number Paul, so I can phone if I need to speak to Steve?’ Yes, she thinks, I am strong enough to walk away.
‘I have no business with phones. I never use one I’m afraid,’ Paul answers, smiling.
Sarah stands up slowly. Turning away from Paul, she faces Steve. ‘Call me if you need me. Do you have your mobile with you?’ Steve nods. He looks lost and insecure. She reminds herself that he doesn’t need her protection. ‘I’ll call you if I need to,’ she says, eager to be gone. ‘Will you be at the club next Saturday? We can talk there.’
‘Sure, the club, yeah … probably. I’ll call you soon. Will you be okay getting back?’
Sarah leaves the question hanging. Without touching either man or even waving goodbye, she leaves. No one walks h
er to the door. Only their voices, low and excited, follow her through the hallway.
The first call Sarah makes when she leaves is to Steve’s house. No one answers so she leaves a message for Marian to phone her back. The second call is to Donna, her best friend and flat mate, to tell her she is on her way home. Even though Sarah is travelling towards the flat they do not rush their conversation.
‘I saw Steve about the … vision,’ Sarah says.
‘Oh, Sarah,’ Donna sighs.
‘Oh, Sarah, what?’
‘You know what, you crazy Goth.’
Sarah pauses. She fights the desire to tell her friend about the demon. Donna wouldn’t understand. No one would. I don’t.
‘I still love him.’ Sarah bites her lip angrily. How could I have said that?
‘I know. Just be careful. He’s no good for you.’
‘He’s gone to stay with an old man called Paul,’ Sarah says. ‘He has a huge house, out by Snuff Mills. Do you know him?’
‘No. What’s he like?’
‘He’s really into magick,’ Sarah says thinking back to all the books and his excitement about the demon. ‘And I’m pretty sure he’s gay.’
‘Figures. Hey, Raven might know him then,’ Donna says. ‘Shall I ask her?’
‘No. Please, don’t tell her anything.’ Sarah shakes her head.
‘What is it, sweetheart? What’s the matter?’
‘Don’t you feel it too?’
‘Feel what?’ Donna asks. Her voice is low, conspiratorial.
‘The way she wants to control everything and everyone.’
‘You know me, Sarah. I’m free as a bird. She couldn’t control me even if she tried.’
‘She does try.’
‘I’ve never noticed,’ Donna answers, yawning. ‘I’m making dinner tonight. Bolognese?’
‘Quorn?’
‘Of course,’ answers Donna.
Sarah can hear her smiling. ‘Thank you, Donna,’ Sarah says.
‘You’re welcome,’ Donna says. Her voice is tender. ‘You’re worth a thousand of them.’
Starblood (The Starblood Trilogy) Page 2