Starblood (The Starblood Trilogy)

by Carmilla Voiez

  ‘A new bride, you say.’ Her words hiss around them. She doesn’t need to speak out loud but she enjoys the sound of her voice. It is far richer now than it ever sounded in The Garden. Far stronger, even in a whisper, than any cry of frustration or anger she had uttered within those walls. ‘What is she like?’

  The serpent cocks its head. Maybe it doesn’t understand her question or perhaps it knows that any answer will elicit a violent response.

  Lilith digs her toes into the sandy earth. ‘I don’t care of course. I wouldn’t go back there if God himself begged me to. I was just asking … because … well, it doesn’t matter does it? I have more than I need right here. I have my freedom.’

  The snake bobs its head and coils itself around the branch once more, resting its head on its tail. Its eyes close.

  Lilith stares at her dirty toes. Images of crushing Adam’s skull beneath her tiny feet make her grin. Then he is renewed, intact once more and she looks at him with a different shade of lust. ‘But you were beautiful.’

  Thinking back to her time in The Garden, his beauty seems more vibrant, more breathtaking. Weeks of solitude feed her desire and give a golden glow to the remembered fragments. His assertion of his desires and ignorance of her own feels, at this distance, like a form of worship, a devotion to that part of her body which pleased him more than any other. If only he had let her teach him, submitted even a fragment of his control, what wonders she could have shared.

  Of course God took his side. When the choice was made, when The Garden’s peace had to be restored, who was told to leave? She shed her humanity at the gate. That choice, at least, was hers. With a deafening screech she spread her wings and returned to her cave. What is a life without choice? Who can exist under someone else’s control? Freedom is above all other prizes.

  The freedom she cherishes surrounds her. Choices fill her mind, so many possibilities. Now, what does a demon, desired by two males, controlled by neither, do? Lilith’s smile becomes a sneer. Apparently she sits in the shade of a willow tree speaking to snakes, wondering whether the new bride, of a man as beautiful as the sun, will fare any better than she. I’ll bet she is silent, docile, yielding. She has no knowledge of any other way. Made new for the pleasure of her master. Lilith nods. This could be fun.

  Chapter 31

  ‘Let’s not go to Club Midian tonight,’ says Star. ‘I feel so tired and I really have nothing to wear.’

  Getting changed for the club this Saturday night is a surreal experience. She has to use the bathroom to apply her make-up as the only mirror in Lilith’s bedsit is a tiny, cracked, tile-sized mirror attached to her bathroom wall. The room is small and the mirror so high she has to stand in the bath and lean across, trying not to slip and fall.

  When Star returns to the bedroom Lilith is pouting. ‘I want to go. I want to show you off.’ She has already changed her clothes and applied her make-up perfectly.

  Star pulls a face at her lover and tells her off for being far too perfect. Her own choice of wardrobe is limited now. She packed in a hurry and curses her choices of clothing, raking through the suitcase again and again. Lilith laughs and embraces her.

  ‘I mean it. Let’s not go to Midian tonight,’ says Star.

  Lilith scowls. ‘For one night, I want to be with you, outside this box, in a place where you will actually touch me.’

  ‘Lilith, my love, can’t we go next time? I just want to sleep.’ Star yawns.

  ‘What if I solve both your problems?’ Lilith asks her. ‘Just give me a moment.’

  Star is left alone in the room. Crossing to the fine muslin drapes at the window, she tries to peer through them. She cannot understand how such sheer material can be completely opaque. She puts out her hand to brush them aside. They feel like liquid, making her fingers damp and sticky; she shrinks back, and rushes to the bathroom to wash them under the tap.

  When she returns to the curtains, she ponders the mystery but cannot find an answer. She sits on the bed amidst her creased clothing awaiting Lilith’s return. Lilith smiles as she opens the door. In her hands she has a small packet and a black lace dress. She hands over the packet first.

  ‘Swallow it,’ she tells Star.

  ‘Speed?’

  Lilith nods and Star does as she is told. She creases her face as she swallows the bitter white powder. She knows from experience that it will work.

  ‘What else have you got?’ Star asks.

  Lilith passes her the dress for inspection. Star looks at the garment, feeling the soft fabric and admiring the way it falls. She tries it on and it fits perfectly. She smiles spinning on the balls of her feet.

  ‘It’s amazing,’ she says. ‘Are you sure I can borrow it? It looks expensive.’

  ‘It’s fine,’ Lilith answers. ‘Woman owes me a favour anyway. It’s yours now.’

  ‘Who?’

  ‘My neighbour.’

  Star nods happily, and spins once again watching the hem of the skirt open like petals around her ankles. This is why I’m a Goth! The eternal glamour, where adults can play dress-up, be a princess or goddess every day.

  ‘I’m ready,’ she says.

  ‘Coat?’ Lilith asks, handing Star her jacket.

  They walk together towards the club. This time they do not hold hands. Lilith tries to entangle Star’s fingers, but Star shakes her head.

  The amphetamine starts to take effect as they walk along. Star feels tiny crystals of energy spread across her body. Her hairs prickle and she grinds her teeth. She starts to talk, telling Lilith about everything her life was before and everything it will be in the future. Her voice is so fast it blurs into white noise.

  Above their heads the sky flashes green, silver and red. Explosions echo through the street. Beyond the haze of street lamps the night is alive with colour and celebration, an echo of a turbulent past and a celebration of the enduring status quo.

  ‘Bonfire night,’ Star whispers.

  The moment they enter the nightclub Star transforms. She grabs Lilith’s hand and pulls her onto the dance floor. They dance face to face, bodies swaying in time with each other, sometimes inches apart and other times with no distance between them. Dancers move around them, appearing between clouds of dry ice and smoke then vanishing again as Star’s attention is drawn back to the beautiful woman who is hers and hers alone. It feels as though she is dancing within a dream. Then her body seems to rise. She imagines she is floating above the floor, twisting around and around her lover. Bodies coiled together like pythons.

  A faster track follows and her body sinks gently back to the dance floor. The deep rhythm pulses through her feet and brings with it memories of their love-making; that strange first night when she had thought Steve somehow possessed Lilith. The beats, like his thrusts, make her body shiver as she dances. It seems so long ago, and now she doubts her memory. As she rubs her body against Lilith’s she wishes she could know what was real and what imagination. Steve’s world had been too strange for me to exist within. What then of Lilith’s, where body parts seem to grow out of nothing, muslin blocks out sunlight and clothing appears without a wardrobe? Madness beckons, but she ignores its call. She loves Lilith and is determined to accept everything.

  When Johnny O finishes his set and Ivy takes the DJ’s box, Lilith buys two glasses of absinthe and they sit together. They huddle close, their arms around each other. They giggle at private jokes and sip their potent drinks.

  She feels connected to this woman. She curses herself for tarnishing it with feelings of confusion, wanting desperately to embrace everything Lilith is, however strange. Surely being a Goth, more than the clothing, the music and the sense of freedom, is about accepting the strange and unusual, drawing it into myself as part and parcel of life? She clings to this idea as they drink and talk about the other dancers, the music and themselves and how they have both changed over the last week.

  ‘I never thought I’d be sharing that room with anyone,’ Lilith says.

  ‘How does it fe
el?’ Star asks.

  ‘Not being alone? Wonderful. Look at them Star. Where’s their sense of rhythm?’

  ‘Or their aestheticism? It’s too painful to watch. Kiss me.’

  Their arms wrap around each other’s shoulders and they kiss. Star’s body starts to rebel; she needs to use the bathroom.

  ‘I’ll just be a moment,’ she says to Lilith.

  As she squats above the toilet, unwilling to touch the seat with any part of her body, she feels again the effects of the speed in her system. The balls of energy make her legs shiver as she tries to hold still. Her pulse quickens and the edges of her teeth rub together. When she is finished she looks for toilet paper, and finding none shakes herself then flushes. It takes an age to straighten her skirt back down, but she doesn’t rush. Only when she is ready does she reach for the lock.

  When she opens the stall door Raven is standing there. At first Star goes to embrace her old friend, wanting to share with her the wonders of her new relationship and describe in detail the passions she is experiencing. She reaches over to touch her flatmate’s arm but Raven moves away, just one step but the rejection cuts Star like a knife.

  Narrowing her eyes, she looks at Raven’s face. Her make-up, perfectly drawn, depicts a trio of bats around one eye. Her lips are almost black in colour with only a hint of deep purple berry, ripe and full, ready to be eaten. She feels desire for this image of gothic perfection, but fights it. She loves Lilith and a life with Raven would be no life.

  ‘I fucked Satori,’ Raven says proudly. Her words are full of poison.

  Star stares at her. The words echo around her mind without any meaning attached to them. Each syllable floats like an autumn leaf caught in a zephyr. She watches them dance in the air until the weight of them crashes through her skull. Raven fucked Steve. She had waited until Star was out of the way and taken him. Star shakes her head to deny the image of Raven and Satori’s bodies moving together. It fills her brain. She starts to shake as nausea threatens to overtake her.

  Something wakens in Star’s belly. It writhes in a fury, which energises her arms still further than the drug. She grabs Raven by the shoulders and pulls her into the stall. Raven’s ankles buckle as her platforms slip on the wet surface. Star is upon her. Lifting the woman’s head by her hair, Star smashes Raven’s cheek against the porcelain toilet. She lifts the once-immaculate face and forces it downwards again and again, pummelling her against the grubby white seat, now streaked with ribbons of red.

  When Star releases her grip Raven slouches onto the floor. Star hurries out of the stall and stares in the mirror. Blood is splattered across her arm and shoulders.

  ‘Fuck,’ she curses and grabs green paper towels to wet them in the sink. She rubs at her skin trying to erase the stain. The paper’s roughness scratches her; she feels its burn but the red just deepens in tone. Growling, she throws the towel to the floor.

  She hears people chatting outside the bathroom door. Head bowed, she rushes past them back to Lilith.

  The stairs seem to move as she reaches them. She clings to the rail and takes each step in turn. The rise and fall of each tread makes her feel sick, her head spins and blood pounds in her ears. She cannot hear the music. All she can hear is the whoosh in her head and the crack of Raven’s skull as it breaks.

  Reaching the bottom, she stands swaying. Which direction? She sees a swirl of bodies on the dance floor. Donna and Freya are there. They face each other, enjoying the music. She starts towards them then remembers she came with Lilith tonight. Her eyes search the darkened room looking for her lover. There, sat at a table near the bar.

  ‘We have to go,’ she whispers urgently into Lilith’s ear.

  ‘Why? What’s happened?’

  ‘I think I killed Raven,’ Star whispers.

  Lilith laughs.

  ‘I’m not joking. We need to leave now.’

  Leaving the jacket unclaimed in the cloakroom, they hurry out of the club.

  Lilith is still smiling as they walk under the bridge towards Vermelho Road. Star burns with frustration and anger. Doesn’t she believe me?

  ‘Why are you grinning?’ Star yells.

  ‘You don’t have an aggressive bone in your body, love,’ Lilith answers. ‘Why would you kill your friend?’

  Star stops walking and stands in the shadows. She needs to be in the darkness, not wanting to see the expression on her lover’s face when she makes this confession. Will Lilith leave me, or will she take pity and help me through this? ‘She told me she fucked Satori.’

  ‘Satori?’

  ‘Steve, my ex,’ Star clarifies.

  ‘The magician,’ says Lilith.

  Star nods. Not a title she would have given Steve but she supposes it does describe him. Now she regrets the darkness. She wants to know what thoughts Lilith is hiding from her.

  ‘You know him?’ Star asks, starting to walk again.

  Lilith keeps pace with her. ‘Only from your numerous and vivid descriptions.’

  Is that jealousy? Is this it? Will Lilith leave me now? ‘I’m sorry,’ she whispers.

  ‘It’s Okay,’ Lilith soothes. ‘In France it would be a crime of passion not murder.’

  ‘Here it’s murder. I have to get away.’ Star pauses. ‘Will you come with me? If I promise never to mention Steve or Raven again, will you come? I don’t think I can do this alone. I’m so frightened.’

  They’re under the streetlights now and Star can see Lilith nod.

  ‘Gather what you need from my room. I’ll get some transport.’

  Walking along Vermelho Road, without Lilith beside her, Star sees far more of the underbelly of the city than she would have liked. She passes women, pinned against brick and stone walls, being pumped by strangers. Each face resting on their aggressor’s shoulder has eyes either closed or glazed in some drug induced fugue. She sees bodies sprawled in bliss with needles still attached to their arms, and men in doorways bristling with the threat of violence.

  She hurries past them all and up the stairs to Lilith’s bedsit. For the second time in a week she packs. Her velvet bag is stuffed with clothing. Looking at the items she brought into this new life, she realises that none of them are practical; they are all pure vanity. Is that what my life is now? Image.

  She rushes back down the stairs and is met by Lilith in a black estate car. Without question she settles in the passenger’s side and hauls the bag onto her lap.

  ‘Throw it in the back,’ Lilith says.

  ‘I’m okay,’ Star says. ‘Let’s just get out of here.’

  They move away and join the motorway at the next roundabout. Star cuddles her bag, looking out through the car window at the passing lights of houses then, when they leave the city behind, the lights of stars.

  ‘Wales or Scotland?’ Lilith asks her as they approach the merging of two motorways, two routes to different lives.

  ‘Scotland,’ Star answers. Lilith increases her speed and joins the M5.

  Chapter 32

  In a valley, nestled between mountains of black clothes, lies a woman: Donna. Her eyes are closed but she isn’t asleep. In the background Alexander Veljanov pleads melodically ‘Love Me to the End’.

  The wardrobe and drawers hang open, gaping at Donna in disbelief. Textiles, books and CDs are strewn across the unmade bed. Donna tries to remember the room tidy. It feels like years since she last sat here with her friend. Her memories are hazy, but she is certain this is not how Sarah’s bedroom usually looks. Sarah’s parents will arrive tomorrow and the maelstrom might be one too many blows for them. Donna is not certain whether Sarah left the room like this or if the police made this mess. The door had remained locked until yesterday. Donna hadn’t wanted to betray her friend’s trust. What does that matter now? What does anything matter? Sarah and Raven are gone, and Donna is alone.

  She doesn’t bother to sit up when she hears the doorbell ring. It is him – bastard! Well he can just fuck off and crawl under his stone like the slimy, evil fucker h
e is. Fuck off! Fuck off! Fuck off! I’m not getting up. I’m not letting you in. When the glass smashes Donna jolts upright, heart pounding, her mouth dry as desert sand. She cannot swallow. Shaking her head to deny him entry, she stares defiantly at Sarah’s bedroom door. For five minutes she sits frozen, her heart racing ahead of the music, her hands balled into fists, until she realises Steve isn’t inside the house. As this realisation settles on her like a childhood blanket, she falls back between the clothes and breathes deeply. Sarah’s smell, still clinging to the unwashed clothes, fills Donna’s nostrils.

  ‘Why?’ she asks.

  Opposing desires juxtapose themselves in Donna’s head. Part of her wants to get drunk and fall asleep here, among Sarah’s belongings. Feel close to her friend again before she is evicted from the flat – from this life. Another part wants to hunt for Sarah, shake her and slap her until she tells Donna the truth about what happened. A third part wants to help, tidy the room, meet with Sarah’s parents, be strong for her friend – now, when she is needed most. Pushing them all aside for the moment, Donna reaches for the boxes beneath Sarah’s bed: her paintings.

  Fingers close around empty air and she jams her head under the divan, waiting for her eyes to adjust to the gloom. Sarah’s boxes are gone, her paintings, her paints and her other box, the one Sarah thought she kept secret: the razor blades.

  Why is Sarah so unhappy? Everything is always so important to Sarah. Where others might coast through life, Sarah struggles. Her art is always broken somehow – incomplete, as though some piece of her is missing. What did she lose and why did she never tell me, her best friend?

  Donna imagines the police poring over Sarah’s paintings, analysing them, making judgements. What will they make of the black and red portraits? Donna shudders. What will they believe as they look at Sarah’s face and see demons jabbing, tearing at her scalp with spears and claws? It has always been one of Donna’s favourite pieces. One she wishes she could have kept. The painting is beautiful, disturbing, like all Sarah’s fine art. Damning though to anyone who doesn’t know the context, and part of that context will arrive tomorrow. She tries to imagine what Sarah’s parents are feeling now, but she cannot. Donna’s own experience of parental love is unconditional. Her mother accepts everything and still loves her. From the few stories she shared when they drank or got stoned together it seems as though Sarah’s parents are different. Perhaps because Sarah is an only child, or because her parents were almost forty when she was born, already set in their ways. Maybe, in part at least, it could be these things. But Donna blames it on religion, Sarah’s bohemian lifestyle and her obsession with the unusual, anathema to their Christian faith. Donna cannot imagine such a family. At the time she had brushed it all aside as fantasy and hyperbole, the product of a young woman’s despair at not being heard, not being understood. Now Donna isn’t certain, and if she stays here she will meet the ogres tomorrow. One plan of action is scored through in her mind. She will not tidy for them. Let them see the disarray, it represents their baby well.