The Winter House

by P. R. Black

The Devil grunted, breaking the tension. ‘Sure. I’ll be nice. Let’s all be nice.’

  ‘Excellent. As you were, then.’ Skull lowered the blade and gestured for Seth to move down the stairs.

  The procession moved on. But as Vonny stepped through the doorframe, the Devil said in her ear: ‘I hope he does something stupid. Your man. Know why?’

  Vonny said nothing. Her revulsion at the voice at her ear, and the breath at her neck, straightened her spine. She held her head back and ignored him.

  ‘Yeah. I think you know, all right.’ He laughed mirthlessly. ‘Need to give you a wash first. Made a mess, haven’t you?’

  ‘Surprised you can tell the difference. Fucking pig.’ It was as if she’d been possessed, or stolen a voice.

  The Devil said nothing at first. But he placed the flat of the machete blade on her shoulder. ‘Just remember,’ he said. ‘Be nice. Be polite.’

  They proceeded down the stairs, an awkward train moving as slowly as possible.

  ‘It’s outside,’ Seth said.

  Skull shrugged. ‘So? We go outside.’

  ‘It’s cold.’

  ‘You can be cold, can’t you? Big guy like yourself. Lots of cladding. Lots of insulation.’ Now that they were all on a level on the ground floor, Vonny could see that Seth towered over the two intruders – as he did most men. The sense of hope she gained from this was an impostor, she knew. This would not be a time for heroics.

  They might kill us anyway.

  ‘I’m OK with being cold,’ Seth said. ‘But it’s not fair on her. Let her put her coat on, if we’re all going.’

  ‘Which one is your coat, honey?’ Skull asked Vonny. He pointed towards the coat and hat stand.

  ‘The waterproof one is fine,’ Vonny said.

  Mind already several moves ahead, she considered the ultimate treachery – the option of running. Take to my heels. I know the woods. I could lose them in there.

  Skull patted her jacket down, turning out old till receipts and half-eaten packets of chewing gum from the pockets. ‘Just making sure you’ve not got any hidden phones in there. Or guns, come to think of it.’ Satisfied, he tossed her the jacket, and she was grateful to slip it on over the slim covering of her pyjama top.

  ‘And my shoes,’ she said.

  The Skull shook its head.

  ‘Christ’s sake,’ Seth hissed. ‘Don’t piss about, let her put her shoes on.’

  The blow was fast – Vonny didn’t even see it land, but she heard it, as well as Seth’s cry of shock and pain. From the follow-through, it looked like Skull had backhanded him; Vonny clutched her hand to her mouth, an electric shock of sympathy pain jerking her face.

  Seth staggered back against a framed mirror behind him. The mirror wobbled, but didn’t fall. Neither did he.

  ‘I told you about being impolite,’ Skull said. The blade, which had been held at his side, was now held horizontal. His elbow was bent – ready to send it through Seth’s guts. ‘No – she’s not getting her shoes. I accept it’s cruel. But there is some logic to this. I’m going to explain it to you. If she decides to run – and I know it’s occurred to both of you – she probably won’t get very far in her bare feet. So wherever we’re going, you’re going to have to brass it out. You, my friend, can stay in your slippers. I don’t think you could do much sprinting in them.’

  ‘Do that again and I’ll kill you,’ Seth said. His voice was strangulated, taut, with a demoniacal, unblinking stare. He was on the verge of an eruption; Vonny had only seen it once or twice in their years together. When it happened, it was never forgotten.

  ‘Shut up,’ Skull said, laughing. ‘OK. As before. I’ll open the door, out we go, in line. You lead, big man. Take us to the stuff.’

  He pulled open the door, and gestured for Seth to head out. A pall of moonlight fell across Seth’s back and shoulders, casting his retreating form in a pale blue glow.

  ‘How far is it?’ the Devil asked, at Vonny’s ear.

  ‘You’ll see,’ Seth said.

  *

  Vonny flinched as the new lawn pricked at her bare feet. Cruel; no need to deny her shoes. They’re going to use me as leverage. No question.

  The mist had lifted a little – it was the cold that came with it that presented the bigger problem, rather than visibility. She pulled the coat tighter.

  ‘Don’t you worry, pet,’ the Devil said. The note of concern he affected was as big an obscenity as anything that had come out of his mouth since the intruders had appeared. His breath steamed up in the air, and despite the near-zero chill outside, it added to the fiendish visage. Steam from the gates of hell. ‘I’ll see you right. Just give us what we want and we’ll be off, don’t you worry. You ever done a fire walk? On the coals? I’ve done it for charity. You just tell yourself it isn’t going to hurt, and you walk across the hard bit of ground, and it doesn’t hurt. It’s amazing. Just try it.’

  She ignored him. Seth was taking them towards the new shed, just off the east side of the property, inside the privet-seeded fencing.

  Vonny hadn’t liked it, but it was a rare instance of Seth putting his foot down and being insistent. It had taken her a while to put her finger on what had irritated her about it – it was, she realised, as if Seth had built it himself, except it had been done professionally, and she knew exactly what it had cost. The builders’ mates had done it for a bit of pocket money, but it was just a squat bunkhouse with a low roof, and the staining on the timber was too light – darker would have made for a better contrast with the house. She had been in it once since the final dab of wood stain had been completed. And she had thought she wouldn’t be setting foot in it too much in the future. In its narrow confines and the one miserable circular table, she foresaw an unpleasant future involving Seth, his mates, or – even worse – musicians, smoking, drinking, and inevitably, playing cards.

  I’m back in it sooner than I thought.

  The windows inside were dark, and the front of the shed was hidden from the front of the house. ‘Wait there by the door,’ Skull said. ‘Close to the door – close enough for your toes to touch the timber.’

  Seth did as he was asked. Skull, keeping the blade within Seth’s eyeline, peered into the dark windows for an uncomfortable length of time. At the sound of an animal cry somewhere in the woods, everyone flinched.

  ‘Clear?’ the Devil asked.

  ‘Guess so.’ Skull turned to Seth. ‘OK, big guy. How we getting in?’

  ‘There’s a combination,’ Seth said. He reached for the heavy padlock and turned the dial. ‘Surprised you didn’t break in.’

  ‘Nah, non-starter,’ Skull said, conversationally. ‘We break in, you call the cops… Game’s over right away. Plus, we’ve no idea where the stuff is. Taking you makes sure. Because it is in here, isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes.’ Seth squinted at the padlock and completed the combination. Everyone heard the soft click.

  ‘We’re all going inside,’ Skull said. ‘Same as before. You and me, then my diabolical friend and your missus. Then you give us what we need, and we’ll be on our way.’

  ‘Sure.’

  Seth turned on the light – low and well shaded, hanging in the centre of the room above the table, but still bright enough to cause Vonny to flinch. The space was about ten or twelve yards long, with empty shelving and cabinets on either side of the table and chairs. Vonny knew this was meant for a TV and games console, a sound system, of course, and then the indulgence of drinks cabinets. The flooring was boarded over with heavy timber; Seth had planned a rug to cover the floor space, but it hadn’t arrived yet.

  They filed inside, and the Devil shut the door behind them.

  ‘Stop at the table,’ Skull said.

  In the sudden quiet, everyone’s breathing became apparent. It was most obvious in the two masked men, amplified by the narrow nostril holes in their face coverings. From the rate of breaths taken, they were either on edge, or excited.

  ‘Make it quick,’ Skull said. ‘I’ll
be right with you. Point out where it is. Then stand against the far wall.’

  ‘You stay here,’ the Devil whispered at Vonny’s ear. She felt the lightest kiss of the machete on her shoulder – the blade this time, not the flat edge – and flinched.

  Seth took a deep breath. ‘It’s in the cabinet, right by the space, to your left.’

  ‘Sounds good to me. Let’s go for it.’ Skull pointed the sword at Seth’s stomach.

  Seth walked towards the cabinet, the boards at his feet creaking. Despite the cold, Vonny felt sweat prickle her brow; she shifted her weight from one foot to the other to relieve the pressure.

  ‘No lock?’ the Devil said, making Vonny flinch.

  ‘It’s well hidden,’ Seth said, half-turning.

  ‘Show us, then,’ Skull intoned.

  Carefully, Seth opened the cabinet with an efficient little click. Vonny smelt something then – something that took her back to the clothing shop her mother had dragged her into, a long time ago. Something fibrous and maybe mouldy.

  ‘Carefully,’ Skull whispered. ‘Very, very carefully. Step back.’

  ‘Sure.’ Seth took a step back. Then something blocked him out; a dark red square that utterly swallowed him from view.

  ‘You f…’ Skull didn’t get to complete the expletive.

  The rug that Seth had clearly ordered and had delivered without her knowing unfurled. Skull swung the blade at it; there was a muffled report on impact, but the rug was over his head in an instant. He tugged it off in a second or two and hurled it aside. By that point, Seth was on the move towards the cabinet directly behind him.

  ‘Hey!’ The Devil darted forward, raising the machete overhead; but the barrier of the table was awkward to begin with – doubly so as Seth kicked it towards him.

  Seth snatched open the door. ‘Run, Vonny! Get the fuck out!’

  ‘What are you doing?’ was all she could say.

  It happened all too quickly – she could only piece it together fully later, like assembling a series of photographs.

  The Devil swung wildly at Seth, and he narrowly avoided having his chest sliced to the bone, and perhaps beyond. The blow displaced the air with a thundercrack, but it missed.

  Seth reached into the cabinet and grabbed a long, shiny case. By the time his hand closed on it, both Skull and the Devil were onto him.

  Blows rained down on Seth – with fists, not with the blades. Seth grunted and fell to the floor, rolling away from the attackers. He raised his hands, protecting his face as the Devil rained down four, five, six fast, brutal punches about his head and body.

  ‘All right! All right! Stop!’ Seth yelled.

  Vonny jemmied herself between the pistoning shoulders of the two attackers, screaming. ‘Leave him!’

  Her nostrils filled with the unpleasant chemical stench of the galvanised rubber mask; the Devil’s eyes met her own and then she was shoved onto her back, striking her head on the floor. Her tongue clashed with her teeth; light exploded behind her eyes.

  The lights swayed above, mesmerising her for a moment, before coalescing into the solid image of the bulb and shade, as the world threatened to spin off its axis. She fought a burbling tide of nausea, and stayed exactly where she was, waiting for equilibrium.

  ‘Can you believe that?’ Skull said, breathing hard. ‘Big guy went for the home run! And, what have we here?’ He raised the case, shaking it at Seth. Seth sat up on the floor, his back to the cabinet he’d tried to raid.

  ‘What is it?’ the Devil asked. ‘Cutlery set?’ Of the two he was the more keyed up, clenching and unclenching his fists, pacing back and forth.

  ‘The case is monogrammed. Check out the brass panel. And… I’ll be buggered in the bunting. Look! This is where Dan Grainger kept his rootin’, tootin’, shootin’ iron!’

  ‘What? A gun? You serious, mate?’ The Devil hoofed a kick at Seth. He absorbed the shock of it somewhere soft. He cried out and curled up.

  ‘Please.’ Vonny wasn’t sure if she’d said it or not; if it was drowned in her throat before the sound could escape. ‘Please. Don’t hurt him. We just want to get out.’

  ‘Afraid that ship’s sailed, honey,’ Skull sneered. ‘Now things are going to get interesting. Meaning we’re going to torture you. Then your big hero gets to decide whether or not he knows where the stuff is. I do believe he was threatening violence, you know.’ Skull laid the case on the table, stilling the swaying light with his hand. ‘I do believe he harboured bad intentions.’

  ‘Can’t have that,’ growled the Devil.

  Seth sat up straight, breathing hard. His eyes glistened with unshed tears. ‘You all right?’ he said to Vonny.

  ‘Give them what they want,’ she said. ‘Whatever they want, just give it to them. We’ve no choice. Don’t do anything stupid again.’

  ‘Your lady’s very sensible,’ Skull said. ‘You want to listen to her. You’ll go far.’ He flipped the catches on the case. The inside was lined with green baize that shone like fresh pine needles in torchlight. There was a suggestion of a gun inside, the contours of the shotgun perfectly traced, as well as holsters for cartridges. But no gun.

  ‘What’s the score here?’ Skull said.

  ‘Idiot thought there was a gun in there,’ the Devil chuckled. ‘It would have been funnier if he’d actually got it open!’

  ‘It’s funnier that you fell for it,’ Seth said.

  He had raised one of the floorboards at his backside without a sound. Then there was a shotgun in his hands. Then he was on one knee, the stock of the rifle against his shoulder. And he pulled the trigger.

  28

  The sound of the blast was colossal in that enclosed space. Vonny flinched and clutched her face, as if she’d been shot herself.

  She hadn’t been shot. The Devil had been shot. There had been a split second ahead of the discharge of the cartridge, when the Devil hesitated in front of the shotgun barrel, frozen, transfixed. Only his dumb dead yellow eyes, unblinking. The Skull didn’t move either.

  Vonny must have blinked at the explosion – she wasn’t even aware of the Devil falling, or colliding with the cabinet. He was instantly down. His angles – elbows, knees, spine, neck – rearranged themselves into novel shapes. The plastic face was mainly obliterated, as was the face beneath it. There was a divot where the left eye and ear should have been. Inky flames licked at his neck, utterly confusing Vonny for a moment. She didn’t see the blood gush or gout, but she was aware of it in the air; she inhaled it, tasted the coppery droplets at the back of her throat, in her nostrils. Living red splashes, bright as lipstick under the lights, streaked the table, which was tipped on its side, and rolled against the same cabinet.

  Then Skull was moving, hurling the shotgun case. It betrayed him, flipping open as it travelled through the air, mitigating the blow, but it put Seth off discharging the second barrel. Skull closed on him in moments. His blade was a silver bow in the light, a dance of lightning. Seth twisted; the sword buried itself two inches into the wood near his shoulder and stayed there. The shotgun clattered across the floor, the stock resting inches away from Vonny’s hand. Smoke uncoiled lazily from the barrel.

  Skull grunted, heaving at the sword. Before it could be retrieved, Seth got to his feet and charged him. He had no strategy beyond obliterating the man with the mask the same shade of white as smoker’s teeth and the scorched eyes, and he succeeded in knocking him off his feet through the sheer force of the collision. That might have been enough, had there been enough clearance. But the same lack of space that meant Skull sacrificed the necessary accuracy with the sword also meant Seth couldn’t charge him to the floor. Skull’s back rebounded against the open cabinet; Seth punched out into his ribs, finding good purchase, and Skull sagged. But only for a second. Then Skull’s knee exploded into Seth’s groin, and a murderous elbow on the downstroke somehow found its way into the meat of Seth’s left shoulder. Seth cried out, and staggered away. Two punches exploded off the top of Seth’s head, and he
collapsed on the floor, wheezing.

  Skull yanked out the sword from the cabinet. And faced Vonny. Who was pointing the shotgun at him.

  ‘Huh,’ was all Skull said, before she pulled the trigger.

  The explosion blew her off her feet, and her head crashed into the back wall. She dropped the gun; coruscating, pounding, residual echoes, inside and outside her head, the smell of burning plastic and singed flesh.

  She saw a blurred Skull lying opposite her, with the mask half-torn off his face. Slick black hair curled out of one side, like a doll’s hair, shining under the wan lights. Dead, surely; sat on the floor, knees up, hands by his sides.

  But not dead, no. The hands moved. One of them touched the side of Skull’s mask, where one eye darted and smoke rose from the hair. On a shelf, a good way above Skull’s shoulder, ancient, fusty old vinyl records in a box had been obliterated into lacquered shards, still dripping off onto the floor.

  Missed, she heard someone say. You missed! From there! Close, but no cigar! There was no sound, or all sound, and nothing to be discerned but roaring. For a weird moment she thought: I’m on fire. Smoke stole over her like dry ice in a music video; she realised it came from the barrel of the gun, which lay at her side. Vonny’s breast hurt, where the stock of the weapon had recoiled into her. Skull got to his feet, eye bulging, as he snatched up the samurai sword. He drew it back over his head. Vonny cringed.

  There was a flash of silver, but not from his hand. Despite the ringing in her ears, Vonny did make out the crisp, slapping sound that followed impact. She shut her eyes, instinctively. When she opened them again, she saw Skull stagger forwards. His breath whistled sharply through the mask – a hiss, difficult to tell whether it was inhalation or exhalation. Then he sank to one knee, dropping the sword.

  A machete blade was jammed into the side of the mask, buried from just underneath the blank eyehole right past the jawline and into the neck.

  ‘Your friend dropped something,’ Seth wheezed. He was leaning against the cabinet, one hand to his side, breathing hard.

  Skull made a desperate sound, one hand flailing, as blood gushed down the white mask. He got up, as if jolted with electricity. And started forward.