by Kathryn Hore
‘You said a panther did this?’
Todd nodded again.
‘This is very bad,’ she said and disappeared into the next room.
Josh took the moment to take in his surroundings. The room was small but homely and served as both a living room and dining area. A kitchenette ran along the back wall. There was no TV or other modern appliances in sight.
The woman rushed back in from the hallway carrying a water bowl and cloth. She juggled a series of small vials under one arm. She laid them out on the table and handed Todd a pair of scissors. ‘Here, cut away the fabric from around the wounds so I can clean them.’
Todd did as she said. Josh grimaced as he plucked the blood soaked fabric from his arm and chest. The woman used the cloth to gently wash away the blood.
When they were done, she wrapped the wounds in a white bandage. Together they helped Josh over to the couch.
She opened one of the vials and tipped a small amount of the purple coloured liquid into a glass. It smelled faintly of flowers. She lifted the glass to Josh’s lips.
‘Drink,’ she said.
‘What is it?’ Todd asked.
‘An old family recipe,’ she said. ‘To help him sleep.’
She left the room again and returned with a blanket, flannel shirt and pants.
‘My husband’s… or they were,’ she said.
She handed Todd the clothes and covered Josh with the blanket. He closed his eyes and began to doze.
Todd checked for bars of reception on his mobile. Nothing.
‘We need to get him to a hospital,’ he said, shoving the phone back into his pocket. ‘Do you have a phone?’
‘No,’ she said.
‘A car?’
Again the woman shook her head. ‘My sons do,’ she offered. ‘But they won’t be back ‘til later. Your friend needs rest. Best you wait out the storm here.’
She went into the kitchen and produced a bottle of scotch and two glasses from a cupboard. She brought them over to the table and sat down on the chair opposite him. She poured two shots — neat, no ice — and handed one to Todd.
‘To help with the shock,’ she said.
#
Before he knew it, half the bottle was gone and a haze had settled about the room. Outside, the storm continued to rage, but inside, with the warmth of hard liquor in his belly, things didn’t seem so bad. Even Josh, who had tossed about in small fits at first, now rested peacefully.
The woman, whom Todd had learned was named Veronica, was no stranger to stories about black cats.
‘The bush holds many secrets,’ she said. ‘And yes, I believe they are one of them.’
‘Have you ever seen one?’ Todd asked.
The woman shook her head. But something in her eyes said she was holding something back.
The room fell into an awkward silence. Todd poured each another drink. They sipped it in silence.
On the couch, Josh groaned and shifted in his sleep.
‘He needs a hospital,’ Todd said.
‘I know.’
‘Your sons, will they be back soon?’
Veronica looked longingly out the window. ‘Soon enough.’
Another long moment of silence passed. Finally, Veronica brought her gaze back from outside and smiled. ‘But let’s not dwell. It’s rare that I get to enjoy company out here.’
Todd felt the brush of her foot on his inner leg. It moved upward toward his thigh. He flinched and excused himself for the bathroom. Veronica sighed and pointed down the hall.
‘Last door on the right,’ she said.
Todd relieved himself and spent a long time in front of the basin mirror. His eyes were bloodshot and the room swam in and out of focus. He splashed water on his face. Okay. Pull your head in. You’re drunk. Josh is hurt. Probably dying. And she’s nearly old enough to be your mother. He felt the beginnings of an erection stir in his pants. Shit.
He stumbled back out into the hall and used a hand to steady himself on the wall. A bedroom door on his right was slightly ajar.
Todd glimpsed a teenage boy lying in a bed. He was drenched in sweat and tossed fitfully beneath the sheets. Bandages covered most of his upper torso and there were two red spots where the blood had soaked through.
Todd felt a hand on his shoulder and jumped. It was Veronica.
‘What…’ he began.
She stepped forward and thrust her lips against his. He felt her tongue, probing, as she reached behind and closed the door. He kissed her back and was pushed across the hall into her bedroom.
#
Afterward, they collapsed in an exhausted tangle among the sheets. He rested his head on one of her bare breasts and listened to the beat of her heart. She exhaled and gently stroked the back of his sweaty hair. The past half-hour had been a frantic, almost animalistic, grind of flesh against flesh. But now an eerie calm washed over the room. Todd closed his eyes and listened to the soothing sound of rain on the tin roof. His thoughts drifted back to the boy in the room. He turned to ask Veronica about his wounds but fell asleep before the thought could pass to his lips.
#
He woke groggily to a darkened room. His head pounded with the onset of a full-blown hangover. He groaned and rubbed his eyes with one hand. It took a moment to remember where he was. He smiled and reached across the bed but found nothing but cotton.
Maybe she was tending to the boy.
Todd frowned. Slowly, he swung his feet over the edge of the bed and found the floorboards with his feet. Something cold and sharp jerked taut against his wrist. What the fuck? He reached down and felt the circular link of metal; tried to pull his hand away and heard the jangle of steel links. Handcuffs.
They hadn’t been there before he went to sleep. Had they?
He used his free hand to search around the bed. Maybe the key was somewhere among the sheets. His fingers brushed a smooth plastic object. He recognised it immediately. But what the hell was it doing in the bed? He picked it up, instinctively sliding his thumb across the small glass screen. His phone’s home screen filled the room with soft light. It was bare except for the bed and a chest of drawers on the far wall. The bedroom door was shut.
He turned his attention back to the phone. How the hell did it get here? It had been in his pants. Wet clothes which he had changed out of when…
He checked the top corner of the screen. A single bar of reception was showing. He pressed the phone icon and selected the recent calls list. There was a bunch of calls, four or five of them to an unfamiliar number. The first appeared to have been made shortly after they had arrived, probably just after he had got changed, the last less than an hour ago. But who had she been calling?
His finger hovered over the redial button. Don’t be stupid.
Instead, he punched in 000.
A footstep creaked on the floorboards at the end of the hall. Todd felt his breath catch in the back of his throat and put the phone face down on the bed to cut out the light. Slowly, deliberately, the footsteps approached along the hall.
They paused outside the bedroom. Todd heard the squeak of the door handle, followed by the creak of the door itself. A crack of dim light crept across the room.
He pushed the phone under his naked thigh; the emergency number idle on the screen. The door opened further, bathing the bed in light.
Veronica stood in the doorway. She was naked and splattered in what looked like blood.
‘Good. You’re awake,’ she said.
A pair of large black cats appeared by her side. They purred and rubbed affectionately against her knees.
Todd felt his breath catch in his throat. They were near identical to the one he had shot earlier. The same blood-like splatter coated their teeth and jaws.
Todd thought of his friend asleep in the lounge.
‘Where’s Josh?’ he asked. In his gut, he already knew the answer.
Veronica simply smiled.
‘You bitch!’ he screamed and struggled against the restraints.
The cats let out an agitated growl and began to pace. Veronica soothed them with a pat on the head.
‘Now, now,’ she said. ‘It’s for the best really. He’d been bit and it was only a matter of time.’
Todd fought back tears. Whether they were for him or his friend he didn’t know.
‘For what?’ he said.
‘You really don’t know?’ she said, a tinge of disappointment in her voice. ‘I thought you’d figured it out.’
She dropped her hands to her side, letting them rest on each of the panthers’ heads.
Todd watched the way they nuzzled against her touch.
‘Your sons,’ he said.
She nodded gently, letting it sink in.
Todd’s mind raced with possibilities. He thought of the boy in the other bedroom. Of the bullet-shaped blood stains. If they were her sons, her real biological sons, that would mean… The room swam suddenly and a wave of bile rose in the back of his throat. He choked it down.
Veronica watched him patiently, like a kinder teacher waiting on a small child.
He toyed with the word for ages. Tried it out on his tongue. It was impossible, wasn’t it?
‘Werewolves,’ he said at last.
Veronica shrugged. ‘Werecats, if you want to be so rudimentary. That’s a term created by your kind to label what you don’t understand.’ She took a step into the room. Her sons followed.
Todd pulled at his wrist; tried to squeeze it through the metal cuff. His hand slipped part way through and caught on his thumb.
‘The Aborigines often thought of us as a type of bunyip,’ she said. ‘White men made up stories about escaped panthers from travelling zoos. The truth is we have been here, living among you, all this time.’
She smiled, a sad, pitiful look, and glanced back toward the door across the hall.
‘You didn’t think I could let you get away with it, did you?’
Todd tugged at the cuff and felt his thumb starting to push through.
‘But why wait?’ he said, stalling, desperate to get his hand free. ‘Why not kill us before?’
‘We like to do things as a family. Besides, you had other uses.’
She patted at her belly lovingly. ‘The boys’ father was a hunter just like you. He never got to meet them though.’
Todd remembered the pants and shirt she had given him and shuddered.
‘Then again, neither will you,’ she snapped.
Veronica’s eyes flashed a bright yellow and she dropped forward onto all fours.
Todd watched her skin darken as her body morphed into a sleek, predatory beast. She snarled, that seductive smile replaced by a mouth full of jagged teeth.
She pounced.
Todd barely registered the crack as his thumb snapped and his hand finally slipped free. He was able to raise it just far enough to feel the silky brush of her fur as she landed on top of him.
THE MONSTER IN THE WOODS
Kathryn Hore
When they came to take her, she screamed and screamed and screamed.
Though she witnessed the ballot herself, all their attempts to be fair. In that long room stinking of rank fear and sweat, the village adults hovering close and clutching hands while up front the town elders stood, looking as stricken as any. The mayor, the doctor, the notary. Lord Greswold himself, owner of almost all the land hereabouts. The men who were meant to protect them.
Standing on the outer, she watched as they dragged forward the big box containing the name of every eligible adult. She saw with her own eyes the lord reaching within to choose. You couldn’t get more random than that, even she had to agree. You couldn’t get fairer.
Still, when they came for her, she screamed.
‘Don’t do this, you bastards. Greswold! You can’t do this!’
They did not listen. Refused to look her in the eye. The biggest men of the village, farmers, builders, all thick arms and grim lips, coming for her. It took four of them to restrain her, pulling her forward, grabbing her waist, her legs, one man to each arm. She tried to fight, to hit and punch and kick. When they wrapped their strength about her limbs, she tried to bite instead. When they managed to keep beyond reach of her teeth, she simply screamed.
Loud enough for all to hear.
Loud enough to wake the children.
The other adults kept back, watching without word. Condoning, approving. Not one stepping forward as she was dragged into the night, not a single voice raised in protest, surely this is wrong? Was that surprising? Was she really so friendless? These people came to her for advice when they were ill, when they were worried, when they were infertile and the town doctor was of little use. They thought her the keeper of some arcane knowledge and she let them, because an esoteric image could be useful. She never told them she simply read the same books their doctor studied from, mixed in some local knowledge of the herbs hereabouts and was prepared to think more broadly than the stiff old physician ever bothered to.
They came to her when their children were ill. When they were desperate. She helped them.
Didn’t they understand she wanted to save them too, the children? She wanted to find a way. But this wasn’t it, this couldn’t be it. Blood for blood, it could not work.
But the townspeople looked on without pity, silent as the men dragged her away. She begged for help, but their eyes reflected only relief that it was not them.
She screamed.
A backhand to the jaw knocked the sound out of her. Teeth clattering, head knocking back. Black clouds edged her vision; it was all she could do keep conscious. Her limbs went slack and she struggled to remember where and when she was, what was happening, who or why.
They carried her forward, passing buildings, houses. A rough road beneath their feet. The night becoming thick as they left the town behind. Ahead, tiny pinprick lights danced in the dark. Torches carried by the four old men, Lord Greswold leading the way. And beyond them, a looming darkness.
Greswold led them to it. Down into the woods.
‘This won’t save them. Please,’ she tried as the trees grew closer and the path twisted in. Her throat was hoarse and it came out as a whisper; something they could ignore as the forest closed around them. It was thick amid the trees. A blanket darkness barely held at bay by their torches, branches reaching out in clutching tangles. The old men lit the way down the narrow, twisting path, the younger following with her tight in their arms. They would not leave the path, not even these men, the town’s strongest. None would dare step amid the trees at night.
She began to struggle again as the path spilled into an open space; a clearing lost in the woods. Claustrophobic with trees towering in a ring, the barest hint of black sky glimpsed through matted branches above. She jerked a leg. She yanked an arm, and managed to get it free. She started hitting out, but they ignored each feeble blow. Senses returning, she felt the scream build again in her throat.
‘Keep her quiet,’ the doctor hissed. He sounded nervous, even to her ears.
‘‘Tis easy for you,’ a young man snapped back, but got his hand over her mouth. He clamped her lips tight with his calloused fingers so she couldn’t even bite him.
In the middle of the clearing was a pole. Tall and wooden, driven deep into the ground; they had prepared for this, set it all up, and now they dragged her to it. There was rope already attached to the pole and she felt it looped first about an ankle. They pulled it tight, until it cut deep into her flesh.
She cried out, cursing them with the pain.
Another loop went about her waist, then one around each wrist. She thrashed about, but they roped her so no limb was free. She was trapped. Tied in the woods in the middle of the night, a sacrifice given up to the dark.
She knew what happened to sacrifices in these woods. Blood on the ground and torn flesh. So did the men. When they staggered back from her, four old, four young, their expressions were aghast. Faces lit by torchlight as they stared at their handiwork, made all the more dreadful f
or the shadows.
‘You think this will save them? Your children?’ she cried out.
One young man, a farmer, stepped forward.
‘Something must be done,’ he said. He sounded afraid, but she had little pity for his fear. ‘We can’t let it take our kids.’
‘It will anyway. Sacrifice won’t stop it. We need another way.’
‘It wants blood. We have to give it someone...’
‘We don’t know what it wants!’ she tried. ‘That’s what we need to find out.’
Lord Greswold put a hand on the man’s arm and pulled him back. ‘Don’t listen to her. She knows nothing.’
‘Greswold, you bastard. You know no more!’
But she did not waste time on him, it had been too many years since she’d wasted time on him and the history between them was too old for it to even hurt anymore.
Instead, she turned back to the farmers. To those she thought might listen.
‘If we can figure out why it’s come, we can figure out a way to stop it,’ she said. But their expressions remained stolid.
She tried reason, then anger, then fear, pleading with them at the last. But they turned their backs. Two picked up torches; Greswold and the doctor. The mayor and the notary left theirs, allowing her some light, even if only enough to create more shadows. She watched their backs, desperate to get away, hurrying down the path.
‘You bastards!’ she screamed. ‘This isn’t the end of it. Your children won’t be safe. The monster in these woods will take them still!’
But they were gone, leaving her roped and alone, with only fear and shadows for company.
She allowed herself some tears. A damp bitterness on her cheeks, a salt taste on her tongue. For a moment she was stuck, by the ropes, by her own impotent fury. By the growing terror which wrapped itself around her gut and squeezed. They did not have a name for what was in these woods; to name such a thing brought its own danger. But they had chronicled its impact. The occasional survivor, rare and mute, trembling wrecks of people who never recovered any sense. The rest, the others, every traveller through these woods after dark. Left as little more than piles of torn flesh atop blood-soaked earth.