by Amy Cross
Darla smiles. "Sit back and relax," she says, shifting closer to me.
I lean my head back and wait as she unzips my trousers and slowly takes my penis out. I'm already pretty hard, but suddenly I feel a kind of rough sensation against the skin. I look down to find that Darla has started rubbing me, but she's still wearing the glove on her hand.
"Cool," I say. "But do you mind taking the glove off?"
Darla stops and looks at me. "You sure?" she asks.
I nod. "I'm sure".
Jess coughs from the back seat. "You really sure?" she asks.
"Yeah," I say. "I'm fucking sure".
Darla stares at me for a moment. "Okay," she says calmly. "Lean back and relax".
I lean my head back again, and then I feel her hand touching my penis. The glove is off this time, and it feels good. Everything feels really well lubricated, though I don't know how she's doing that. And her hand has some nice definition, some nice ridges that feel really nice. I swallow hard. "You can go a little faster," I say eventually.
"Okay," she says, and she does.
It feels good. Really good. Like, maybe the best I've ever had. I can tell it won't take long to finish, and there's a part of me that wants to prolong this.
"Slow down a little," I say. "I don't want to cum too soon".
"Okay," Darla says, and she slows down. It's amazing, she's so willing to please.
"You wanna use your mouth a little?" I say.
"You don't like my hand?" Darla asks.
"Oh yeah," I say. "I like it. But I just thought you might want to use your mouth for a bit".
"I could," Darla says. "But I thought you liked my hand".
"I do," I say, looking down at her hand. "It's just -" I stop cold. I hadn't looked at her hand before, but now I see it, there's something hideous about it. There's no flesh, it's just muscle and bone from the fingers up to the wrist, like some kind of decaying body. "What the fuck?" I shout, trying to get away.
"You don't like my hand?" Darla asks, sounding so innocent.
I open the door and jump out of the car, landing hard on the asphalt. Scrambling to my feet, I don't look back, I don't even pause to tuck my penis back in my trousers. I just run, straight across the gas station forecourt and out onto the motorway. As I go, I hear the girls laughing in the distance.
Prologue 3
"Mr. Blaum?"
I ignore the voice. Of course I do. If I am to have any pleasure at all tonight, amid the hustle and bustle of a huge party in a fashionable London hotel, I shall have to find moments of quiet and solitude. That is why I have come up here, to the empty third floor conference room, where I can stand and look out at the night skyline of London. It is a beautiful city, its architecture quite unlike that of any other place on Earth. It is a privilege to have been able to make a small impact on that architecture. To have left my mark on the city that I love. But my 'mark' will be so much greater after my death.
"Mr. Blaum?" says the voice again. It's an unfamiliar female voice, and I decide to ignore it.
I remember, when I was nine or ten years old, sitting at school one day and wondering what it would be like to die. While my friends played in the schoolyard, I was imagining what it must be like to look at the world and know for certain that you are about to die. I suppose I was a morbid child. Today, seventy years later, I am at last finding out what it feels like to be at the point of death. The funny thing is, it feels exactly how I imagined it would. I am, as I expected I would be, quite terrified.
"Mr. Blaum," the voice says, closer this time, almost directly behind me. "Everyone is waiting".
She's right. Everyone is waiting. They are waiting for the great Franklin Blaum to come and entertain them, and in return they will shower me with praise. I used to enjoy evenings such as this. The socialising, the drinking, the chance to catch up with old friends, the chance to have intelligent conversations about buildings and architecture. But tonight is tinged with sadness, made worse by the fact that this sadness is a secret that I must carry for a few more hours before... before the end. An end that no-one else knows is coming.
"Alright," I say, turning to find a pretty young woman waiting behind me. She looks like an assistant. I don't know whose assistant, but she has the timid, mousey look of an assistant. "I suppose I had better come with you, hadn't I?"
She nods cautiously, clearly not very confident in my presence. I smile. It's nice that I can still intimidate people.
"They're all very keen to see your new design, Mr. Blaum," the woman says.
I nod. "Of course they are," I say. "Tell me, what is your name?"
"Susan," she says, swallowing hard. This is hilarious. She's terrified of me.
"Susan," I repeat. "A nice name. Tell me, Susan. What do you know of my plans for the future?"
She stares at me, clearly not sure what I mean. "I... I know that you're going to unveil the design for a new building tonight," she says. "And... and... and that people are very excited to see it".
I nod. "Good," I say. "I'm glad they're excited. It really is going to be the most extraordinary building, you know".
"I'm sure it is," she says.
"No," I say, stepping closer to her. "I mean it's going to be something entirely new. Something so new, it will be talked about for the rest of history. Something so shocking and wonderful, that it will cement my name in history forevermore as the greatest architect who ever walked the Earth".
Susan nods. "That sounds nice," she says, her voice cracking a little.
I sigh. "You have no idea," I say. "You have no vision. The ideas that I have, they are too great and too grand for your mind". I watch as she stares at me. "Don't look so sad," I continue. "It's not your fault. I'm a visionary. I'm a great architect. I'm... I hesitate to use the word genius, for that is an accolade that can only be bestowed by others, not by oneself. But believe me, when you understand this new building, when it is complete in a few years' time, you will be awed by what I have achieved".
"Yes," says Susan. "I'm sure I will be".
I stare at her. All my life, I have wondered what it would be like to kill another human being. Would it feel good? Since I am to die tonight, I could find out right now and face no repercussions. I could attack this girl savagely, I could do anything I like with her body. No-one would ever believe that it was me. I could hide the body until tomorrow, by which point I will be dead. It's so tempting, the thought of this woman's blood flowing over my hands. But no. I will not do it. not now. I want my last night to be peaceful and calm. I will die tonight, and after I am dead there will be time enough to come back and kill if I so wish. For despite dying, I shall live forever.
"Come on," I say to Susan, smiling as I put an arm around her and lead her towards the stairs. "I believe we have a party to get to".
1
"Lambeth," says Darla as we cross the busy road in the middle of town, narrowly avoiding being hit by various cars, bikes and buses. "Breathe in deep. Smell the place. This is where I was born. It's where I grew up. It's where I ran away from as soon as I could. Doesn't it smell... shit?" She turns to me and laughs.
I smile. "It looks okay," I say. "For south London".
It took Darla and me two weeks to get from Cornwall to London. We had a truck for part of the way, but that broke down and then we ended up walking. After that, we managed to hitch a few miles, but eventually we had to walk the final stretch, wandering into the city like two modern day Dick Whittingtons. And now here we are in Lambeth, the part of the city in which Darla grew up. She says she has some friends here still, that we can stay with them. That's fine by me. I just need somewhere to use as a base while I look for Duncan, and Darla has already made it clear that she has no real interest in helping me. I guess I understand. She doesn't know Duncan, she doesn't know how important it is that I find him.
"Eddie!" Darla shouts, as we stand outside a house near the main street. She's calling up to a window on the top floor, but there's music coming from i
nside and I doubt anyone will hear her. "Eddie!!!" she screams, trying to be heard over the music. She turns to me. "This is where Eddie lives".
"No kidding," I say, feeling slightly uncomfortable at how loud she's being. After all, last time I was in London there were army patrols trying to kill Duncan and me because we're werewolves. I'd kind of like to keep a low profile.
"EDDDDDDIIIIIIIIEEEEEEEEE!!!!!!!!!!!!!!" Darla yells at the top of her voice. Suddenly a man appears at the window, looking down.
"Is that Eddie?" I ask.
"No," says Darla. "Who are you?" she shouts up.
"Hang on!" the man shouts. He disappears back into the building. A moment later, the door near us buzzes. Darla rushes over and pushes it open, and we head inside. As we reach the stairs, the man comes down to meet us. "Sorry," he says. "I couldn't hear you over the music".
"You didn't think to turn it down?" Darla asks.
He stares at her for a moment. "No," he says finally.
"Where's Eddie?" she asks.
The guy shrugs. "Good question. If you see him, tell him I'm looking for him. He owes me".
"This is his place," Darla says.
"Not until he pays me the five hundred quid he owes me. I'm his landlord".
I tap Darla on the arm. "Maybe we should go," I say.
"Not yet," Darla says, keeping her eyes fixed on the guy. "What's your name?"
"Jeremy," he says, seeming a little affronted.
"Jeremy, do you know where Eddie might be? Any idea?"
He sniffs loudly. "Well, he was one of the Blaum boys, so your guess is as good as mine".
"Blaum boys?" Darla asks.
"You don't know about that?" He sighs. "Eddie got a job working security at the new Blaum Building in the City. It was a few days after that, he just vanished. And he's not the only one. That place is always hiring new security guards. You know why?" He leans in to Darla's face. "Cause the old ones keep fucking vanishing. That building eats people".
Darla looks away for a moment. "I'll be back," she says finally. "I have to find Eddie, okay?"
We walk away, back out into the Lambeth street. Darla looks confused and concerned, like I've never seen her before.
"I have to go and find Duncan," I say. "He needs my help. Do you want to come?"
Darla shakes her head. "Where are you going to look?"
"I have a few ideas," I say. "I have to go and find his master".
"Good luck with that," Darla says, sounding unimpressed. "We should find somewhere to stay first".
"Okay," I say, "but I'm kind of in a hurry".
"No kidding," she replies. "Aren't we all? Come on, I know a few more people we can try, they can't all have vanished".
We head off along the street.
"So where are you going to look first?" Darla says.
I sigh. The truth is, I don't know. Until a few days ago, I had this really strong sense that Duncan was alive somewhere in London. It's weird, but I could sense his... soul. His presence. But now that we're actually in London, all that has faded. I don't sense him at all. It's as if he's vanished or... No, I don't want to think about what it could mean. He's here and he's alive. He has to be. "Somewhere," I say. "Underground".
"Underground?"
"Have you ever heard of the pit?"
Darla frowns. "What pit?"
"The pit beneath London. With the wolf in it".
Darla nods. "Maybe. A long time ago, I heard something. Why, is it real?"
"Yeah," I say. "And I happen to know the wolf who's in the pit. He's the only lead I've got, so I thought it might be worth going down there to ask him".
"Sounds weird," Darla says. "Sounds really weird". She smiles. "I like weird. Sounds good".
"Maybe I should just meet you somewhere later?" I say. "I want to get started while it's still daylight".
"Sure," says Darla. "You got any money?"
"No," I say.
"Then how are you gonna get around?"
"Well..." I pause, not sure how to bring up a subject I've been meaning to mention for a while. "I was thinking you could teach me how to change into my wolf form properly. Then, I could run everywhere".
"It's not that easy," Darla says as we reach a street corner. We stop as she looks in each direction. "Fuck," she says.
"What?"
"I don't know where to fucking go," she says. "Sorry, darling, I just assumed Eddie would be here".
"He was a good friend?" I ask.
"Yeah," she says. "The best". There's a hint of sadness in her eyes, a haunted look that immediately tells me that Eddie means a lot to her. "I need to find him," she says. "I guess you could say Eddie's my Duncan". She looks at me and smiles, but there are tears in her eyes.
I take a deep breath. "Look," I say. "I've got a plan. I'll come with you to this Blaum place and we can look for your friend. And then, later, you can help me look for Duncan. Okay?"
"Sure," Darla says. "That'd be good. But I thought you wanted to find Duncan straight away?"
"I do," I say. "But I figure it'll be quicker to wait for you to help me, than if I just blunder about by myself. So let's just get on with things, okay? Maybe we can both find the people we're looking for".
2
The Blaum Building is certainly imposing. Standing down by the river, it's one of the largest buildings in London and it towers above everything else in the vicinity. It doesn't help that the entire building is black, with even the windows being tinted so that they're dark. The building seems to absorb light from its surroundings, but it has a kind of macabre, unreal beauty that means it's hard to avoid staring at it. Frankly, I can't imagine why anyone would ever want to build something like this.
"Hideous," says Darla, standing next to me. She looks back down at the little guidebook we bought earlier from a street vendor. "It says here it was completed six months ago, and it's home to the Darkstone Corporation, whatever that is. And get this. It's named after the architect, Franklin Blaum, who vanished just as the building was nearing completion". She looks at me. "Seems people have been vanishing in this building for a while".
I nod, looking up at the huge edifice. "It's almost like it's alive," I say. "It looks so... brooding".
"It looks like cancer," Darla says. "If cancer was a building, this is the building it'd be. Seriously, who gave planning permission for such a fucking ugly pile of crap?" She smiles. "Come on," she says, and we head towards the entrance.
"What's the plan?" I ask.
"We need money. Let's apply for a job".
"Here?"
"Why not?" she says as we reach the revolving door. "Sounds like they always need people, and the pay's gotta be pretty good".
"You're forgetting something," I say. "People keep disappearing".
"And we want to find out why," she replies. "So don't you think the best way to do that is to get in on the action from the ground floor?"
"I suppose so," I say, following Darla inside. To be honest, I'm not sure whether this is a colossal waste of time. After all, her friend Eddie probably just got a better job offer and went somewhere else. If he's anything like Darla, then he's probably not very reliable.
"Look at this fucking place," says Darla as we enter the foyer. Like the outside, everything in here is black, most of it made of marble. It's high-ceilinged and pretty spacious, but it's hard not to feel a little intimidated by the whole set-up. Seriously, why would you design a building like this unless you really, really wanted to scare people? It's like how in medieval times kings would build large, gothic castles to scare away their enemies.
Over at the far end of the room, a security guard is sitting against a wall. He doesn't even look up at us, so we loiter for a moment.
"Isn't this place great?" Darla whispers to me. "The guy who created it was a genius. Franklin Blaum. But he was also nuts. Totally fucking nuts". She takes a deep breath. "I like people who are crazy".
"Can we get out of here?" I ask.
While Darla talks to
a woman on the front desk, I wander over to the other side of the foyer. There's a large framed photo of an old man who I assume is the missing Franklin Blaum, the man who designed this place. He has a dark, ominous stare, and his smile is totally unconvincing. As I stare at the picture, I become aware of a noise somewhere nearby, a kind of steady, rhythmic double-beat. I step to one side, trying to find the source of the noise, and then I realise that it's coming from the wall. I put my ear against the marble and hear a kind of thumping sound from inside the walls. It sounds almost as if she kind of machine is whirring in there, and somehow I don't think it's got anything to do with the air conditioning unit, which I can see is on another network altogether. I lean closer to the wall.
"What the fuck are you doing, darling?" Darla asks, having walked up behind me.
"Listening," I say.
She puts her ear to the wall. "Sounds like a heartbeat," she says, before grabbing my shoulder, turning me to face her and handing me an application form. "You need a pen?" she asks. "They're fucking desperate for new staff, darling. They've been spitting 'em up and chewing 'em out at crazy speed. Even the receptionists say they don't like it here".
"I can understand that," I say, looking at the form. "This looks complicated".
"I guess so," Darla says as she starts filling her form in. "But I need to work here if I'm going to find out what happened to Eddie".
"Are you sure he's not -" I start to say, and then I think better of it.
"Sure he's not what?" Darla replies, looking slightly angry. "Dead? Yeah, I'm pretty sure he's not dead. What about you? You reckon this Duncan guy is still alive? Really?" She seems annoyed. Obviously this Eddie guy means a lot to her.
"He is," I say, nodding. "I can sense it". But the truth is, my sense of Duncan's closeness has been gone for a while now, and I'm really not sure whether he's anywhere nearby. I could sense his life force, and then suddenly it was gone. The silence is unnerving. His voice in my head just seems to have stopped.