‘It’s beautiful,’ Star sighs.
‘Let’s get back in the car and find somewhere to stay. There’s going to be a frost tonight.’
‘I don’t want to break into another house,’ says Star.
‘Would you rather freeze?’
‘You could warm me,’ she answers.
Lilith smiles at the invitation. ‘That’s my girl,’ she says.
They get back in the car and follow the winding road to lower ground.
They find somewhere to park and huddle together on the back seat. Their fingers long to undress each other but only moments after the engine is switched off a biting cold permeates the space. Star shivers in Lilith’s arms.
‘You’re right,’ Star says. ‘We won’t survive the night.’
They settle back into the front seats and drive, looking for another place to stay. It is seven o’clock Monday evening when they find a second house, which looks empty. They have reached the Cairngorms. This time they search the cottage thoroughly for signs of occupation. They find tourist guides and heating instructions—a holiday house.
Lilith turns on the electric heating while Star searches for something to eat. There is nothing. Star feels weak.
‘I’ll catch a rabbit,’ Lilith tells her. ‘Boil some water on the stove.’
Star sits alone in the house. Every noise outside the walls frightens her, from the howling dog nearby, to the cars, which occasionally drive past their door. The cottage itself is lovely. The bedding is clean and the kitchen well stocked with utensils, if not food. She makes herself a coffee and tries to ignore the sounds prising open her sanity. The noises inside her head frighten her more than those of the world outside. Phantoms push through the veil of her consciousness, and the gurgles of the man she helped kill today replay in her mind. When she lifts her hands to her face she can still smell his blood on her fingers.
Trying to dismiss everything as a dream from which she’ll soon wake, she imagines she never met Lilith, that she and Steve had worked together to dismiss his demon and had fallen in love instead. Steve’s demon—she hasn’t thought about that for such a long time, so involved has she been with her affair. She wonders how he’s getting on. Has he found it yet? Sent it back? She feels a pang of guilt for not helping him as she’d promised, but that guilt opens a gateway to remorse she has to fight to hold at bay. What was the demon’s name, ah yes – Lilith. Lilith. Lilith! Fuck, no, it can’t be. It is. Oh shit! Is the woman I love, who is currently gathering food for my empty stomach, is she a demon? Steve’s demon?
Hairs bristle all over Star’s body, and she feels cold. She listens to her own ragged breathing and remembers what she can of these past weeks. Lilith is a demon. The knowledge which lay dormant inside her stretches itself, unfurling in her mind like a waking cat, reveling beneath the long-awaited acknowledgement.
The killings are on my conscience, not Lilith’s. I killed Raven and I probably killed the man. Something twists inside Star’s stomach; is it her conscience squirming or the evil from her dreams? She looks for a knife and sits holding its weight in her hand. She takes off her jacket and lifts up her jumper. The skin beneath is pale and soft. There is no sign of the taint. With the tip of the knife, she pricks her belly. A thread of blood unravels down her stomach. Biting her lip, she tries to press harder but feels afraid. Even now she doesn’t want to die.
She looks at the telephone. It is a pay phone. She wonders whether it will accept a 999 call without coins. She drops the knife and crosses the room. With every step she hears a dog’s howls getting closer. With every movement she feels something shift inside her. Its silent whispers urge her not to make the call. As she lifts her leaden arm to pick up the receiver a giant black dog with a rabbit in its jaws hurtles through the room and knocks her to the floor. She hits her head and all is darkness.
Chapter 38
He refuses to believe. At dinner-time his mum is crying at the table. Beneath her folded arms she hides a newspaper. Satori puts his arm around her shoulder and asks her what’s wrong. She shakes her head and her sobs grow louder. He tugs at the corner of the newspaper trying to prise it away from her. Lifting her arms, she allows him to take it and turns from her son.
On the front page are two photos. One is of Raven, the other of Star. He tries to read the article. He manages to absorb the first line of the story before dropping the paper as if it burns him.
Goth bitch-fight blood bath. Girl (24) brutally murdered in toilets of local Goth club.
‘No,’ he cries out in denial. It isn’t true. It cannot be true. He refuses to believe the words.
His mum stands up and tries to put her arms around him, but he pushes her away and runs out of the house. Leaving his mum to her distress makes him feel cruel and ungrateful. He cannot turn back and tell her he’s sorry – be her dutiful son. There isn’t time.
He goes to see Donna. She doesn’t answer the door in spite of his loud rings, knocks and shouts. Filled with fury, he kicks the door, shattering a glass panel. For a moment, the sound of breaking glass makes him feel better. Then shame and sorrow overwhelm him again. He runs around the streets. When he reaches Freya’s road at last, more by chance than memory, he sees her brother Ivan outside the house, leaning against the garage door smoking. His eyes are full of tears.
‘You’ve heard,’ Ivan says as he spots Satori at the end of the driveway. He drops his cigarette, crushing it with his bare foot, and lights another. ‘Want one?’
Satori shakes his head. ‘How long have you known?’
‘Since yesterday. Freya was at the club with Raven, Donna too.’
‘How is she?’ Satori asks.
‘How do you think? I wouldn’t go in there if I were you. Somehow they seem to think it’s your fault.’
‘Maybe it is,’ he says, looking at Ivan’s feet.
‘Why did she do it, man?’ Ivan drags on his cigarette.
Satori shrugs his shoulders.
‘Raven was so beautiful. She and I…’ Ivan sinks onto his haunches, shaking his head. ‘So beautiful. Such a waste.’
‘One of a kind,’ Satori replies as he tries to hold the nausea at bay.
‘It’s twisted, man. Why did she do it? They were friends…The reporters, they fuckin’ love it. Our garden was heavin’. Did they come an’ see you?’
Satori shakes his head and stares at the house, imagining the crowd of excited journalists.
Goth bitch-fight blood bath.
‘Can you get Freya out here? So I can speak to her,’ Satori asks.
‘I dunno, man,’ Ivan replies. ‘They’re all pretty pissed at you.’
‘Please try. It’s important.’
Satori watches Ivan lurch into the house. The man moves as if each step requires too great an effort to bear. Satori knows that feeling. It is unbearable. He wonders what he will say to Freya if she does come outside. He told Ivan it was important but of what it might be he has no idea. He wants to see Freya, as if seeing her will connect him with Star and Raven. He hears a scream of anger from within the house, then sees Freya’s father swaying in the doorway. The man lunges towards Satori with his fist raised. Without a backward glance Satori flees.
His feet take him back towards Raven and Star’s apartment and he passes the street corner where he first laid eyes on Star. She’d been walking with Donna. Her hair had bounced as she walked and her face, when he first set eyes on it, was so open and so animated with joy that he fell in love with her that very moment. She’d been wearing her long velvet coat and a short skirt, and as she walked the coat opened to reveal black and white striped legs and those huge boots she loved to wear. He pauses for a moment, hoping to sense her presence here. He feels nothing more than the twist of pain in his stomach he has carried since seeing the newspaper report. The air is hushed in the street as though all televisions have been silenced, all dogs muzzled and all children put to bed. Listening hard, he believes he can hear the wails of a mother who has lost her child.
He turns his back on the street and walks home. When he opens the front door his mother rushes to him. He shakes his head and retreats upstairs.
In his room he gathers together a few things in a canvas satchel, a change of clothes, his dagger and the Necronomicon. He opens an atlas in front of him and sets his crystal ball before that.
‘Show me where they are,’ he says.
The crystal mists then clears and he sees his answer. He wraps the ball in a piece of purple velvet and places it and the atlas in his bag. Then he searches his clothes and room for money and fills his pockets. It will have to be enough. The bag slung over his shoulder, he heads after them.
He starts his journey hitchhiking. He wants to save the little money he has brought for when he really needs it. Luck is with him and each time a driver drops him off another picks him up. His head fills with their stories. He wishes to find peace but resigns himself to their temporary chatter, a small price to pay for such generous travelling companions.
He reaches Perth by dawn on Tuesday morning. The air is cold and misty. He checks the map and sees they are still some way from him. Waiting at the bus station for a coach to Aviemore, he drinks bitter coffee and eats a stale bun. Trying to ignore the eyes of strangers, he pushes crumbs around the table’s surface with his finger and tries to clear his mind. Everything seems too noisy or too bright to ignore. He hopes the bus journey will settle him.
Since the moment when he first read the headline he hasn’t stopped to think. Running from one place to another unable to stop, faces blur into one pale ball of confusion. No one is able to understand. There is no one who can help.
This is his fault. Everything: the murder, Star’s disappearance – it’s on him. A hole opens inside Satori’s mind. Its warm darkness beckons him. His toes hang over the edge and his body teeters and sways, wanting desperately to fall. He stares at oblivion and feels it swell and push towards him. It wants to claim its prodigal son. Whispering promises of emptiness, peace and solace, it tries to tug at him with its velvety claws and pull him over the edge into depression. Angrily, he denies it and turns away. He has no time to wallow in self-pity.
The bus is quiet. Only two other passengers board at the station. He settles himself near the back and lets the vibration of the wheel beneath his seat lull him into unconsciousness. As his body travels north on the threadbare seat his mind soars on ahead. Picturing Star’s face, Satori tries to touch her mind. He feels her confusion. Her thoughts are shrouded by a dense grey weight: Lilith. Satori’s mind yells at Star, trying to penetrate the psychic curtain. She doesn’t respond and he has no way of knowing whether she can hear or sense him. Withdrawing his mind, he allows a dream to claim him. Raven waits for him there, just as she had in life. She rises and falls above him. Her arms lifted above her head, his hands around her throat. He feels her skin grow cold beneath his fingers. Her face cracks and changes. Horror fills him as she bends towards him. Her cheek and mouth are smashed and gaping. Raven kisses him and he feels himself swallowed by her cavernous mouth. Her throat squeezes him, pushing him downwards. He gasps for air but there is none except a stale, bloody stench that turns his stomach. He tries to fight back, but she holds him there, inside her.
He wakes, covered in sweat. More people have joined the bus since he fell asleep; some are staring at him. Wondering whether he screamed in his sleep, he glares at them and they turn away.
When he eventually reaches the town of Aviemore the place is busy with walkers. The sky is darkening, and people swarm toward the numerous cafés and restaurants. Others return to their hotels and hostels. He mounts the stairs to the Mountain café. A wall of glass frames the breathtaking Cairngorm mountains. Their colours are like the acrylics in Star’s pallette; perylene green rises to caput mortuum-violet and a titanium white tip pierces the lamp-black sky. He remembers the way she would lovingly name each shade, like her own magical chant. I never spent enough time watching her, listening to her wisdom. It was always about me – never her. He orders a coffee and sits at one of the heavy wooden tables beside the window. Star is somewhere in these mountains, he is certain of it. He removes his atlas from his bag and dowses the page. Closing his eyes, his finger hovers just centimetres from the paper. He feels the tip of his finger brush the page and opens his eyes. There is a forested valley about ten miles south of where he sits now. They are there.
Showing the map to the waitress, he asks what the valley is called.
She shakes her head. ‘Sorry, sorry, I not know name. Umm, I think, wait…yes, follow.’
She takes him to a huge map of the Cairngorms, which dominates an entire wall of the café. ‘Here,’ she says, nodding towards the four metre by three metre map. ‘Names here, see? The mountains.’
‘Thank you, thank you. That’s perfect.’
Satori stands in front of the map. He clears his mind and looks, not with his two grey eyes, but with his third eye – his spiritual vision. Oblivious of the other patrons he raises both arms and feels the map come to life. Stretching his palms towards the wall, he feels the icy tips of the mountains and hears splashing rivers descend them.
A spot glows in a valley. Satori steps closer. The mountains part for him and he places his finger on the spot. It is close to a small hamlet. He squints at the name, switching back to his two eyes. Straanruie. Straanruie…he’ll head for there then find them. He notes the name of the hamlet on the cover of his atlas and finishes his coffee. The warm and nutty taste soothes and refreshes him. It is four o’clock.
Outside, the streetlights are already lit and the mountains loom menacingly, shoulder to shoulder. Their dark shadows pierce the starlight: a god’s bodyguards. Looking left and right along the busy street, he sees a tourist information sign and heads towards it. The woman at the desk is full of smiles as she greets him. Her Scottish accent is clipped and precise. He asks for the best way to reach Straanruie.
‘Taxi,’ she tells him. ‘Or a hire car. The buses don’t go there.’
Nodding, he checks his wallet. He probably has just enough money for a taxi but he’ll need some way of getting Star and himself back afterwards. Who knows what weakened state Star might be in by now?
‘I’ll hitchhike,’ he tells her.
‘Leave it until morning,’ she warns him. ‘No one heads into the mountains after dark.’
‘I have nowhere to stay,’ he argues. ‘And I need to get there now.’
She shakes her head. ‘I can give you a place to sleep. You won’t reach Straanruie tonight.’
‘I’ll try anyway,’ he says.
‘I’m here ’til five. Come back if you still need somewhere to stay.’
He thanks her and heads for the mouth of the road leading up into the mountains. Traffic converges on the town. Nothing heads towards the dark peaks. Standing at the roadside, he shivers as the mist descends around him.
Eventually, he gives in and walks back towards the tourist office only to discover the time is six o’clock and the office is already closed.
With a sense of fatalism he counts his money. He has just over sixty pounds in his pockets. Wandering along the high street, he grabs some sandwiches and a drink from a supermarket. The shop is busy as walkers buy food and beer to see them through the après marche. Taking his carrier bag of provisions with him to the youth hostel, he asks a middle-aged man behind the desk for a bed. The man frowns, the place is full, but he will not let him leave to spend the night rough.
‘Aviemore in November is nae place for sleepin’ under the stars.’ He assures Satori. ‘Stay here ‘til me shift ends at ten. The name’s Douglas.’
‘Thank you. Where are you heading when you finish?’ Satori asks eagerly.
‘Youse askin’ for a bed or a lift?’ Douglas’ eyes twinkle with humour.
‘Either, I guess. But a lift to Straanruie would be preferable.’
‘Ack that’s up in the mountains, son. You’ll nae be wantin’ to head there after dark.’
‘Why?’ Satori
asks.
‘It’s affa treacherous. The roads twist and turn. When the mist settles you can lose yer way. Drive off a cliff before you know what’s happening.’
‘I need to get there,’ Satori insists.
‘Patience, lad,’ I’ll drive you mi’sell in the morn.’ Douglas’ wide smile tells Satori there will be no negotiation.
‘Thank you. Thank you so much.’
‘Now settle down wi’ yer cuppa and let me finish this paperwork.’
Satori reads through the ritual again. He knows every word, every nuance but there is no room for error. It’s all theory of course. It might not work at all, but he needs to try. He needs to save Star.
Douglas’ house is a squat cottage in Carrbridge. When they arrive at ten thirty Satori is greeted by a wife and hound. The former makes a fuss of him and wants to hear more of the romantic tale of his search for Star. He edits heavily, removing any mention of demons, magic or murder, but it still excites in her a shock he did not expect.
‘Yer girlfriend left you for a woman,’ she repeats again as if trying hard to make sense of an impossible riddle. ‘Youse English live the strangest lives.’
The dog licks his fingers as he drifts off to sleep in a huge armchair.
Chapter 39
Star wakes with a thumping head. She struggles to open her eyes and when she does the image in front of them is blurred.
‘Is that you, Lilith?’ she asks the dark shape at the end of the bed.
‘Yes, my darling.’ The shadow gets bigger and Lilith kisses Star’s forehead. ‘How are you feeling?’
‘Strange, I can’t quite focus. What happened?’
‘You fell. You were on the floor when I got back.’
‘A dog,’ she says. ‘I remember a dog.’
‘There’s no dog, my darling. Maybe you were dreaming.’
Star turns over, holding her head in her hands. The memory doesn’t come to her and it hurts when she tries to concentrate.
‘Would you like some food?’ Lilith asks.
Starblood Trilogy Page 20