by C F Dunn
“It sounds like something the German propaganda machine dreamt up to scare the natives,” I muttered.
“That is so. But still people believed; they were very superstitious, and the rumours spread and soon neighbours did not trust one another. People took to the streets to search for those who had these marks – any marks – and they killed them and burned their bodies. And then it was not enough just to kill the marked ones, but they hunted down their families in case they were infected also. It was a very terrible time.”
“Why hasn’t more been made of it? I’ve never heard any of this before.”
“Because it was forbidden to talk about it. The deaths were put down to ‘enemy action’, but after the war, my professor made it his study. It was very difficult for him because of the regime; he went all over the Soviet Union when it was much bigger than Russia is now, and he made a study of people’s beliefs – the Government did not ban anthropological research – and he came to believe that these rumours were true in some part, and the very fact that people believed them made them true.”
“That the Fiend is dormant inside every man, ready to be awakened, do you mean? What, literally?”
“He was not very clear about that, but I think he thought that, yes.”
“Um,” was all I could think of to say; all that I missed was a log fire on a beach, a group of wide-eyed and credulous students and some marshmallows.
“You do not believe me,” Elena challenged, folding her arms defensively.
“Hey, I’m not in any position to say one way or another, not without evidence – and that was burned,” I reminded her. “Do you believe it?”
“I don’t know, but…” She looked up from beneath her eyelashes and something told me I’d just fallen for an almighty con.
“It makes a good scary story,” I completed for her.
“Hah! Yes it does; did you like it?”
“It was great; you done good, girl.”
The waitress came back to see if we had finished. Elena didn’t hesitate.
“I always have ice-cream – it’s so much better here than in Russia. Do you want some?”
“No, I won’t have anything else, thanks. Where’s the restroom, please?” I asked the waitress, remembering the correct word. She pointed to a sign hanging over a door on the other side of the diner. “I’ll be back in a minute,” I said to Elena as I left the table.
I ran water over my wrists and splashed my face to cool it, and then stood by the open window, letting the cold air soothe my burning temples while the juke-box music slammed away inside my head. I didn’t feel great.
By the time I washed and dried my hands, Elena had almost finished extracting the remnants of pale-pink ice-cream from the tall, narrow glass with an extra-long spoon. She licked it with an expertise that comes only with years of practice and deposited it in the glass with a clatter.
“OK, I’m good; now I go too.” And she slid out of her seat and disappeared the way I came. I unzipped my bag and rummaged for my purse and the cash I’d taken out for the meal. Elena slid back into her seat, breathing heavily.
“That was quick!” I exclaimed, without looking up.
A colourless voice answered. “I’m glad you think so.”
My head shot up in alarm and I froze, my hand half-way in my bag. Staahl sat opposite, his pupils small, black pits like olive stones in the centre of his eyes as he stared.
“It’s so good to see you again, Emma. You don’t mind if I call you by your first name, do you? It is so much more friendly, and I do so want us to be friends.” His mouth made a slit when he spoke, words sliding out between his too-thin lips.
I found what must have been my voice. “What do you want?”
“Now, now – that’s not very friendly, is it? I just wanted to have a little chat to get to know you better. I did promise I’d catch up with you and I always keep my word.”
My head spun beneath the dazzling lights; I wanted to shade my eyes but kept my hands still.
“Did you follow me here?” I asked in a voice hoarse with a mixture of fear and defiance. He leaned forwards over the table; if anyone else in the diner looked our way, they would just have seen two people talking.
“Now, why would I do a thing like that?” He spoke very quietly, tonelessly and I could smell his breath. “Unless that is what you wanted. Did you want me to follow you, Emma? Do you enjoy the thought that I might be watching you? Have you been waiting for me as I have waited for you?”
The need to get away from him became overwhelming and I made a grab for my bag, struggling to get out of my seat at the same time, but it slid sideways, tipping onto the floor, a few of the contents scattering in an assorted jumble under the table. I scrambled to pick them up, but he bent down and scooped up my bag even as I tried to snatch it from him. He held it close to his body, the blood-red leather the only colour against the grey of his clothes and his skin. Breathing through his teeth, a faint hiss as he pulled air through them, with deliberate slowness he held out my bag to me, watching my face, anticipating my reaction, tasting my fear.
I was blowed if I would let him intimidate me with his games. Anger began to seep through me as his non-smile turned into a leer. I seized the strap of my bag but he wouldn’t relinquish it.
“Give it back!” I snarled and tugged, but instead of releasing it, Staahl pulled back sharply, jerking my arm towards him, surprisingly strong. Now within inches of his body, I wouldn’t give up; I wouldn’t let go.
I glared at him. “Let… go!” I demanded, my teeth clenched to stop my voice from betraying my alarm.
“Why are you in such a hurry? I have plenty of time. You know, there is much I can help you with; we have so much in common. Monsters and Magic – now, there’s a title to conjure with. Why did you choose a subject so full of darkness, so much pain, so much fear? But thrilling also, don’t you think?” He savoured every second and, still clasping the strap, extended a finger towards my hand and stroked the back of it. Hackles stood on the back of my neck.
“Don’t you dare touch me,” I hissed, more furious now than scared. Staahl hesitated then laughed, a dry, humourless rasp, running his tongue over his lips.
“I see you have a little fight in you, I like that.” He let go of my bag and I fell back against the bench.
I simultaneously stuffed my things back in it as I skimmed along the padded bench to escape, but Staahl’s arm shot out, blocking my exit. He suddenly withdrew it at the same time I became aware that someone stood next to us. I looked up. My heart jumped and I didn’t attempt to hide my relief at the unexpected sight of Matthew’s nephew. “Harry!”
“Hey, Dr D’Eresby. I’m sorry – I hope I’m not disturbing you, but I saw you were here and I couldn’t pass by without saying ‘Hello’.”
“I’m so very glad to see you, Harry.”
I didn’t know what this boy could do, but he seemed to sense the sum of my fear and turned towards Staahl.
“Professor Staahl, right? I believe we’ve met once before, when I was with my uncle.” He spoke politely but there was an undercurrent to his voice I couldn’t quite place. Eyes fixed on the boy, Staahl didn’t answer at first, and Harry deliberately perched on the edge of the table, forcing him to move back. Although not heavily built, his shoulders were broad in comparison to Staahl’s, and the way he held himself spoke of a self-assurance that belied his youth.
“My uncle will be disappointed to have missed you this evening, Dr D’Eresby.”
I scanned the room behind him, looking for Matthew.
“He’s not here?” But it was obvious he wasn’t. In a flash of disappointment, I realized how deeply I missed him that week, never more so than now.
“Nope, I’m afraid he’s been kept busy at the hospital; there’s been an outbreak of seasonal ’flu, and they need all the staff they can get.”
Staahl looked sullenly at Harry and when he finally spoke, sounded resentful.
“Emma and I were discus
sing a subject of mutual interest before you interrupted.”
I cringed at his use of my name but felt more terrified that Harry would leave. A knot of panic in the pit of my gut echoed the ligature rapidly tightening around my skull. Staahl showed no signs of moving, but the boy made it clear he wasn’t going anywhere.
“That was inconsiderate of me, Professor,” Harry replied conversationally, turning towards him again and not sounding particularly contrite. As he moved, his hand brushed the rim of my glass, sending water flooding over the varnished surface of the table. Harry smiled apologetically as Staahl leapt to his feet, glaring at him.
“That was so clumsy of me; how very stupid. You must let me pay for the dry-cleaning.”
Staahl spat a few words, grabbing a paper napkin and scrubbing at the wet area on his clothes. He flung the shredded napkin on the floor and a foul look at us, before pushing roughly past the waitress who had come up to see if she could help.
Harry shook his head, watching Staahl’s retreating back.
“That’s too bad – just as I was getting to know the guy. Sorry if I spoiled your fun, Dr D’Eresby,” he grinned, his naturally good-humoured face alive with suppressed mirth; then he became suddenly serious. “Are you all right, ma’am? He’s gone now; I reckon he’ll not be back to bother you tonight.”
“Harry, thank you, I… I’m fine.” It all happened so quickly it seemed quite surreal, almost as if I imagined it, but as Staahl’s words sank in, my fumbling brain registered what he said. My flesh itched and crawled and I rubbed my hand roughly against my jeans until it was so red and sore I could no longer remember the sensation of his finger on my skin.
“What’s happening? Why was Staahl here?”
“Where have you been, Elena?” My voice shook, my scratchy throat tight with tension.
“I… was just at the checkout,” she stuttered, pointing behind her. “Why was Staahl here?” she repeated.
“He followed us; I think Harry scared him off.” Despite my confusion I remembered my manners and introduced them. Harry bent down to pick up something from under the table.
“I think this must be yours, unless Professor Staahl secretly wears make-up.” He held it up. “Nope, definitely not his colour.”
He handed me my lipstick. “Harry, thank you so much; I didn’t know what to do. Staahl must have followed us here and waited until… ’til… he saw me alone.” My words tumbled over themselves as the implication dawned on me. Harry put out a hand to guide me as I sat rapidly.
Elena’s eyes were round. “Why would he do that?”
I shook my head. “I don’t know; he didn’t say much and it wasn’t what he said, but the way he said it.” I shuddered as a wave of cold hit me. I shivered again.
Harry frowned, “I think we’d better get you back to campus. Can I take you?” he offered.
“No, thanks, we came in Elena’s car.” I unzipped my bag to find my purse, forcing myself to handle it after Staahl touched it, but it felt different, lighter. Stuffing my hand inside, I searched for the familiar metallic jumble of keys.
“My keys – I can’t find my keys!” I tipped my bag upside down on the table; checked the inside again; shook it. The keys to my flat, my tutor room – everything – gone.
“He’s taken them – Staahl took them.” A flash of heat coursed through my veins, making me dizzy again.
Elena’s eyes widened. “Why did he take them?” We looked at each other, already knowing the answer.
“Do we call the police?” she ventured.
“And tell them what? I can’t prove he took them,” I said, feeling more and more that I’d been manoeuvred into a trap. “If he has all my keys, Elena…”
Harry walked a few paces away, talking rapidly on his mobile, but I could hear neither to whom he spoke, nor what he said. Elena bit her nails, her forehead knitted in consternation.
“But he must know we would suspect him; surely he would not be so stupid as to think you wouldn’t notice.”
I shook my head, regretting the movement as it pounded and I became queasy.
“I think that’s just the point, though; he wants me to know.”
“Why?”
“Something he said about me enjoying being watched. I don’t know – it’s as if he likes the thought of me being frightened.” I picked up her half-empty glass from the table and held the cool surface to my head. The ache in the back of my head threatened to drill its way through my eye socket.
She eyed me with a degree of concern. “I think you will come and stay with me tonight, yes?”
Harry finished speaking and clicked the mobile shut.
“There should be no need. It won’t take long to get the locks changed – they’re on to it now. It’ll be done by the time you get back. Can I show you both to your car?”
Too drained to be surprised by his efficiency, I followed him to the door. Harry stood aside to let us go first.
“Thank you,” I said, automatically, then, “Harry, how did you know we were here?”
“I saw you.”
“How?”
He looked puzzled by my persistence, and I hoped I didn’t sound rude.
“A couple came out as I was passing; I saw you when the door opened.”
“Oh, I see,” I said, not convinced.
We crossed the road to Elena’s car. “Another thing…” I said, and he flashed me a sideways look. “Staahl said something when he left, but I couldn’t quite hear what it was. Did you hear it?”
“It was Dutch and nothing worth repeating,” he said with a conclusiveness that told me he wouldn’t say even if it had been. His mouth tightened at the corners, and in that instant his resemblance to Matthew appeared so marked that momentarily, the ache I felt was in my heart and not my head.
Elena drove back to campus as fast as the speed limit allowed. I wrapped my thin coat around me, cold to my core, and she put the heating on full blast to no effect. We were not alone on the journey; every time I looked in the rear mirror, headlights gleamed low on the road, keeping a steady pace behind us. Elena saw them too, but said nothing, keeping her foot on the accelerator all the way.
By the time we reached campus I was roasting. My skin burned and I took my coat off, letting the cold air envelop me. It wasn’t enough and I pulled off my jumper to get some relief and breathed lungfuls of air over my stinging throat, which left me giddy.
“You don’t look too good,” Elena peered anxiously.
“I’m fine, I’m just reacting, that’s all.” I leaned on the cold bodywork of the car and waited while she fetched her bag. The shadowing car had dematerialized into the night at a junction several miles before we turned off the highway ourselves, allowing my fanciful mind to settle. Nonetheless, I raked the area for any signs of life. The car park was still – even the chill air didn’t move – and the first signs of frost lined the longer blades of grass by the kerb. Nearly eleven, most staff were ensconced in their rooms, and only a few students braved the cold and the wrath of college security.
My legs aching with the effort, yards became miles between the car park and our block, every step like walking through porridge.
“I will come and help you get your things if your lock is not changed yet,” Elena offered as we approached our stairs, but Harry already stood by my door, waiting, new keys dangling from a finger.
“How…?” I began.
“Students lose their keys all the time; maintenance keep a supply of locks in stock so there’s no problem getting them changed.” He dropped the keys into my hand. “I had a spare set cut, just in case you needed one. Oh, and I checked your rooms out to make sure they’re clear.”
“Thank you, Harry; I don’t know what I’d have done without you.” Staahl’s lupine eyes bore into my memory; I extinguished them. “Thank you so much.”
He peered at me. “Are you feeling unwell, ma’am?”
My T-shirt clung to my lower back as sweat soaked through it. “I’m fine – just a li
ttle warm, thanks.”
As soon as my door closed I dropped my bag on the floor and went straight to the window in my bedroom without bothering to put on the light, and flung it open, drawing the night air over me. The tightness in my throat had been replaced by molten sand. I stumbled into the kitchenette, filling a glass with icy water, spilling it down my front in my haste to put out the fire. The heat returned in seconds.
Making my way towards the bedroom again, the room swayed like the deck of a ship and I lurched forwards, trying to steady myself with the edge of the doorframe. I missed, yelping as my shoulder caught on the corner. I managed to get as far as the foot of my bed before the room twisted momentarily, then the floor rose in waves and I collapsed onto it gratefully.
The room rotated, spinning like a roundabout every time I tried to open my eyes until I felt sick. Someone else moved in the room, leaned over me. Staahl. He must have been waiting – watching and waiting until I was alone. I attempted to call for help but he stole my voice and the strange, strangled sound came from so far away it might not have been mine at all. His face loomed, closer and closer until it merged with mine. I lashed out as he lifted me, and I struggled against him, but he was too strong and I had nothing left to fight with. I gave in to the fear and the pain and the heat, and sank below the surface of consciousness into the welcoming void.
Cold came from within like the fire before it. Lead weighted my eyelids and I fought to open them, but they remained stubbornly in place. Where was Staahl? Where was I?
A rasping came from close by; I held my breath and the sound stopped, and I became invisible. Triumphant lights danced behind my eyes, a display of colours so beautiful, so free that I wanted to follow where they led; but ice moulded around my neck like a collar and I gasped, and the jagged breath was all around me again, but louder now, and unrelenting, and each breath echoed the grinding beats of my heart.
I whimpered, waiting for his touch but the dark moved, rocking me to unconsciousness although I wrestled against it until it covered my mind as well as my eyes once more.
Time passed, the fire returned and I burned under a fierce sun. I thrashed out trying to find some relief but my body felt so heavy in the heat. I called out in despair, and coldness pressed against me, chasing away the sun. The cold raised me up, became cool hands, a glass against my lips, a bitter, icy liquid that tamed the fire. I coughed and pushed it away, but it came back, insistent and softly murmuring, making me drink. The coolness spread, dissolving the terror and the flames, and I slept.