Dead Night

by Tim O'Rourke

  The sound of sirens was deafening now as several police cars turned into the street and came to a screeching halt. Those who had gathered around Marty dispersed like people did when police arrived. I stayed beside Marty, and even though I knew he was dead, I wasn’t going to leave him.

  “All citizens are to clear the street!” a police officer ordered through a speaker attached to the police car. “Clear the street!”

  Looking up, I could see that I was now alone with Marty. The doors to the lead police car swung open and two officers got out. They were huge, wedged into their military-style uniforms.

  “Move away from the body,” one of them barked as he came towards me, a long, black pointed Taser in his hand.

  “He was my friend,” I said, trying to fight back the tears standing in my eyes.

  “Get away from the body,” the cop ordered again, firing up his Taser stick. Blue and mauve sparks sizzled and crackled from the end of it.

  “Please,” I started, hoping to reason with what was left of the human soul hidden beneath the skin. I looked up into the Skin-walker’s eyes.

  Then, looking down at me, the officer said, “I know you. You gave me the slip last night on the way back from the morgue. We’ve been searching for you everywhere.”

  Recognising the officer, I looked away as if trying to hide my face, but I knew it was too late for that. “I think you must be mis -”

  “You’re under arrest,” the officer barked before I’d even had the chance to finish.

  “For what?” I asked him, hearing the sound of other officers approaching me from all sides, their Taser-sticks crackling.

  “For theft of evidence relating to murder,”

  the officer said.

  “What evidence?” I asked, although I knew he was talking about the blood – the blood that was lying in the holdall by my side.

  But when the officer spoke again, he didn’t accuse me of stealing the blood; he accused me of stealing something far more bizarre and insane.

  “You stole the body of that young woman,” he said, dragging me to my feet. His grip was strong, and I could feel his fingernails sinking into the flesh of my upper arm.

  “Are you kidding me?” I gasped. “How in the hell did I steal that body? What did I do, stuff her up my sweater?”

  “You had accomplices who came in and took her body away...”

  “Accomplices?” I spat as he dragged me towards one of the parked police cars. I gripped the holdall, refusing to let go of it. “Ask the lab technician and that other copper – the one with the broken legs.”

  “Impossible,” the officer growled. “Both of them are dead.”

  “Dead?” I breathed. “How?”

  “Sergeant Banks died of his injuries,” the officer said, steering me towards the rear door of his police car.

  “People don’t die of a broken leg,” I said, trying to resist as he forced me onto the back seat of the car.

  “He did,” the officer snapped at me, his eyes glowing bright.

  “And the other one?” I asked him. “What happened to him?”

  “Suicide,” he replied. “Very sad.

  Whatever he witnessed in that morgue disturbed his mind so much that he...”

  “This is bullshit!” I yelled, knowing that I was being lied to. I didn’t trust Skin-walkers at the best of times – let alone one in a police uniform.

  Drawing my knee back, I kicked out at the door as he tried to close it on me. Then, there was a burning sensation which travelled up the length of my leg. I jerked my leg backwards and cried out in pain. The cop waved his Taser-stick in front of my face and with a look of hatred for me, he said, “Next time I’ll zap you straight in the face.”

  With tears streaming down my face, I curled up on the backseat and held my leg. The pain was excruciating and made me feel sick. The smell of burnt flesh filled the car. I heard the officer climb into the front seat and fire up the engine. Another climbed in beside him, but I was in so much pain, I didn’t even look up.

  “What about Marty?” I said through gritted teeth.

  “Marty?” the happy-zapper officer said.

  “My friend,” I whispered.

  “The guy you murdered, you mean?” he asked, looking back over his shoulder at me.

  “I didn’t murder him!” I groaned, the pain in my leg sapping any fight I had left in me.

  “Not what several witnesses have told us,” he said, pulling away from the kerb.

  “Apparently you pushed him right out in front of that car.”

  “They’re talking shit,” I whined, holding my leg.

  “And you’re in it,” the officer said, and the other copper laughed.

  7

  Potter

  I must have been mad to even consider the idea of going in search of Sophie. What was wrong with me, for crying out loud? It was like I was in some kind of emotional shoot-out or something. Part of me was glad that she hadn’t been home. But there was that other part – the part that feared for her safety. Sophie’s father said that others had come looking for her and that they’d been killers. Why would these people be looking for her? What kind of life was she leading now in this world that had been pushed? Sophie had been the kind of girl who wouldn’t have said shit even if her mouth had been full of it – so how had she got herself into trouble? And what kind of trouble was she in?

  Was it my problem? No – not really. We had been lovers once and I had been in love with her – but she had rejected me. Even when I’d left her bedroom that night, as she lay screaming and petrified of me, I hadn’t been able to forget – not at first, anyway. As I had crisscrossed the country picking up the odd job here and there and sleeping in cheap motels, I had written to her. In each letter I had explained in the best way I could – and I wasn’t very good with words – how much she had meant to me and how sorry I was for scaring her.

  But Sophie never replied once. She made it clear that she didn’t want anything more to do with me.

  So why should I go and get myself into a heap of shit for her now? I attracted shit like a cow’s arse attracted flies and I didn’t need it, not now. I was meant to keep my head down in this new world.

  Kiera had said that – and she was right.

  Kiera! What about Kiera? She needed my help more than Sophie did. I needed her help too.

  Perhaps I shouldn’t have left the manor? Kiera and I were a team now – we always had been. I turned my back on Sophie’s home once and for all, knowing I would never mention that I had come looking for Sophie – whatever my true reasons had been for doing so. Then, leaping into the air, my wings shot from my back and I raced into the cold, winter sky. I didn’t head straight for Hallowed Manor; I was going to take a detour first.

  Kiera had stuff that she wanted, especially her police badge more than anything. So banking right, I headed in the direction of Havensfield.

  I knew Kiera’s home address, but I had never been there. She had spoken about her flat to me many times, talking about her comfy armchair placed by the window so she could sit and watch people pass by in the street below. Kiera had told me about the thousands of newspaper clippings that covered her living room wall. As I flew nearer to Havensfield, my curiosity grew about how Kiera had lived and what her life had been like before leaving for The Ragged Cove.

  The streets of Havensfield were deserted, and just a few houses still had lights shining within them. It was late; I didn’t know how late, but I guessed that most people had gone to bed for the night. That suited me, as I didn’t want to be seen by anyone, especially as I was breaking into Kiera’s flat. I just wanted to get her stuff and get back to the manor.

  Swooping out of the sky, I felt my wings withdraw into my back and wrap themselves around my ribcage. I’d had wings for as long as I could remember, but I could never get used to that feeling of them disappearing back into me. Every time it happened, it felt like I was momentarily suffocating. Then my lungs would expand, and I could breathe aga
in.

  I pulled the collar of the scarecrow’s coat up about my throat, glanced up and down the deserted street, then approached the front door that would lead me to Kiera’s flat. Without much effort, I pressed my shoulder against the door and felt the lock pop. With one last look over my shoulder, I eased open the door and snuck inside.

  There were three doors leading off the main hall, and a staircase leading up into the darkness.

  Knowing that Kiera lived in flat number four, I climbed the stairs. I tapped gently on the door with my knuckles, just in case Kiera had been evicted, and in her absence somebody else had moved in. I waited several moments and when I didn’t get any response or hear any movement from inside I pressed my shoulder against the door and forced it open.

  I closed the door behind me and stood alone in her flat. It felt odd being there on my own. In a weird way, it felt like I was, invading Kiera’s private space. But I’d only returned to get her badge and some clothing. The place was in darkness, and I couldn’t risk turning the lights on.

  The flat had stood empty for months or more, and it might make neighbours curious if they suddenly saw a light on in the flat.

  Feeling my way across the poky living room, I wondered where Kiera might have left her police badge. There was a door set into the wall and I pushed it open. A bed was in the far corner of the room and it looked like the bed clothes were lumpy and dishevelled, as if Kiera hadn’t made her bed the last time she had slept in it. Smiling to myself, I headed towards a small nest of drawers.

  There was a bedside lamp, and what felt like a book and a jewellery case. Running my fingertips amongst the clutter, I couldn’t find Kiera’s police badge. So, opening the top drawer I began to rummage around inside. It seemed to be full of clothes of some kind. Still in search of Kiera’s badge, I removed some of the garments. Then, holding a piece of clothing that felt elasticated, I realised I was looking through the darkness at the biggest pair of women’s knickers I had seen in my life.

  “Whoa, Kiera,” I breathed, struggling to picture her wearing such frumpy underwear. They were nothing like the skimpy, silky numbers I had seen Kiera wear. I pulled out another pair. “Jeez, I never knew you wore parachutes!”

  Then, from behind me I heard someone scream. “Who are you?”

  Wheeling around with the giant-sized underwear in my hands, I saw the silhouette of a figure sitting up in the bed, and it was then I knew that I was in the wrong flat. The bedside lamp flickered on to reveal an old woman sitting up in her bed.

  “What are you doing with my knickers?”

  she screeched, her snow-white hair matted and her wrinkled jowls swinging on either side of her ancient-looking face.

  “Sorry, Grandma,” I gasped, sounding as shocked as her. “I’ve got the wrong flat.”

  “Help!” the old woman screamed at the top of her voice, and for such an old woman, her voice was strong and ear-piercing.

  “Take it easy,” I hushed, just wishing she would stop.

  “Pervert!” she screeched, pulling her bed clothes up around her chin.

  “I’m not a pervert,” I tried to assure her, stuffing her knickers back into the drawer. “I’ve got the wrong flat. I thought someone else lived here.”

  “You’re a pervert!” the old woman screamed again. “Somebody help me – there’s a man in here sniffing my knickers!”

  “Now hang on, Grandma,” I said, unable to believe what I was hearing. “I wasn’t...”

  “I’ve read about young men like you in the newspapers,” the old woman croaked. “You’re one of those kinky types.”

  “Kinky?” I blustered and for the first time in my life, I was lost for words. “I’m not kinky!”

  “Get out!” she screamed again.

  I could hear movement from the adjoining flats. So, not wanting to be caught in the old woman’s flat clutching a pair of her giant knickers, I looked at her one last time, told her I was sorry, and fled. As I raced down the stairs, a door opened above me.

  “What’s going on?” a man shouted, sounding half asleep.

  “Pervert!” I heard the old woman screech again.

  Yanking open the front door, I slipped back out into the night. Not knowing what direction to head in, I turned right, and pulling the scarecrow’s coat tight about me, I disappeared into the shadows. I reached the end of the street, looked back one last time, and on seeing a man in pyjamas stagger from the flat that I had broken into, I turned the corner.

  There was a covered doorway, and pressing myself flat against the wall, I waited for the man to go back inside before I spread my wings and flew away. Being discovered as a knicker-sniffing pervert was one thing, but being noticed for swooping up into the night with a set of clawed wings was something else altogether. It was as I waited in the dark for the man in the pyjamas to go away, that I noticed Kiera’s beat-up old Mini parked at the kerb, just outside the doorway that I was hiding in. Turning around to see that the door to this flat was ajar, I realised the mistake I had made, so I pushed it open and stepped inside.

  8

  Sophie

  The burning sensation in my leg began to ease, so I pulled myself up onto the backseat of the police car and peered out of the window. I’d lived in Ripper Falls all of my life and I knew that we weren’t heading towards the police station.

  For some reason, the cops were taking me out of town and into the country. With every mile the roads became narrower and more remote. Trees grew tall and leafless on either side of the road, and between the black and twisted trunks, I could see miles and miles of desolate farmland.

  “Where are you taking me?” I asked them.

  The cop in the passenger seat didn’t say anything; he just kept staring straight ahead.

  Glancing at me in the rear view mirror with his yellow eyes, the cop who had zapped me grinned and said, “Just taking a little detour.”

  “Where?” I pushed, trying not to look into his eyes, but wanting to know where they were taking me.

  “To a little place I know,” the happy-zapper cop grinned at me in the mirror. “It’s nice and secluded...”

  “Look, I’m either under arrest or I’m not,”

  I said, beginning to sense that I was in serious trouble with these guys. “Either take me to the police station or release me.”

  “We’ll take you to the police station,” the cop said, “but first I thought we could have ourselves a little party.”

  “Party?” I breathed, but I knew what he meant and I rattled the door handle. It was locked and couldn’t be opened. “Just release me.”

  Ignoring me, the happy-zapper glanced at the other cop and said, “I don’t know about you’

  but human women are so freaking horny, don’t you think?”

  The cop in the passenger seat just grunted and stared straight ahead.

  Grinning to himself, the other looked back at the road and smiled, “I’ve seen some beautiful female humans, but you are lush! ” and I saw him wink back at me in the rear view mirror. “I bet you’re gonna be so sweet.”

  I rattled the door lock again, my heart pounding in my chest. The driver saw the fear in my eyes and this seemed to excite him somehow as he twitched in his seat and straightened his trousers at the crotch. Then the other officer suddenly spoke and said, “Lady, if I were you I’d put on your seatbelt.”

  “Say what?” I spat.

  “So you don’t get hurt in the crash,” he said calmly, his eyes fixed straight ahead.

  The happy-zapper cop must have read my mind as he glanced at his colleague and said, “What crash?”

  “This crash, you fucking animal,” the cop whispered. Then with lightning speed, he shot his arm out, gripped the back of the happy-zapper’s head, and drove his face into the steering wheel.

  A jet of black blood sprayed from the cop’s face and showered the windscreen. The cop made a screeching sound and took both hands from the wheel as he tried to fight off his colleague. The back of the police car
zigzagged violently across the road, and I yanked the seatbelt across my chest.

  Over and over again, the cop, who had sat silently for most of the journey, drove the happy-zapper’s face into the steering wheel and dashboard. The attack was relentless. Blood with flecks of flesh sprayed around the interior of the car, spattering my face and the backseat. The attack had been so sudden and unexpected that I sat rigid in my seat, unable to breathe.

  The car lurched left and right across the narrow country road as the cop fought for his life.

  He reached for his attacker, but the other was too strong. Then, the happy-zapper cop began to change. What was left of his face began to contort and twist as if he were growing a giant snout. There was a tearing sound as the back of his shirt began to rip apart, chunks of black fur bursting through. As he changed, it was like he grew stronger too.

  The other cop sensed this and roared, “Oh, no you don’t, Skin-walker!” If the attack hadn’t been frenzied before, the cop then went berserk as he took the Skin-walker’s head in both of his hands. There was a sickening crunch as the cop crushed the Skin-walker’s skull. Its eyeballs burst from its face and splattered the windscreen, like red and white jelly.

  The Skin-walker flopped to one side and fell forward in his seat, the remains of his head running all over the steering wheel. The police car veered to the right and the cop reached for the wheel, but it was wet and slippery with the Skin-walker’s brains and he lost his grip of it. The car spun out of control, and I was thrown sideways across the backseat. And as the car flipped onto its side and rolled into a ditch, I screamed until my throat felt sore.

  I lay in the foot well, my body shaking in shock and fear. What the fuck had just happened?

  Why had that cop just slaughtered his colleague?

  What was going on here? Was he going to do the same to me? A splinter of pain cut through the right side of my ribcage and I cried out in pain as I tried to lever myself up. The car was on its side and at first I couldn’t figure out which way I should head to get out.