‘Oh if you understood a fraction of the irony in what you’re saying… I am healing myself. I am getting stronger. I know you won’t see it, but I’m changing. I’m becoming whole.’
She shakes her head and looks away from the fanatical gleam in his eyes. He sees her shudder and returns his eyes to his lap.
‘Let’s go home, mum,’ he whispers. ‘I’m hungry.’
She nods, checks the wing mirror and pulls away. Her shoulders shake and every few moments she sniffs. Satori doesn’t speak to her. He cannot tell her everything will be okay.
Chapter 29
Dave’s scream echoes through the trees. Freya’s hands, slick with blood, grip the knife tighter.
‘Shhh, Baby,’ she whispers. ‘Don’t struggle. It will be over soon.’
His chest heaves. Gurgling, he shudders. No words come from his lips, but blood and spit drip from his open mouth.
She kisses him. The taste of salt and iron gives her strength. She must finish this. To leave him now, bleeding slowly to death or eaten by wild animals, that would be far crueler. This way at least he will be of use. Regret for lost opportunities stabs at her own heart as she pushes the knife deeper into his breast.
‘I never loved you,’ she says.
She looks at his face. His eyes are glazed. There is nothing in them to show that he even heard her words.
A final push and she breaks through as bone splinters beneath her blade. Through the hole she can see his heart, still beating. She takes a ribbon from her hair, breathes into it and recites words she doesn’t understand. The ribbon starts to sway in her hand. She places it next to the wound and it slides inside, coiling and weaving as it moves. She watches the purple satin wrap itself around his heart. His mouth gapes wider and she wonders if he senses it feed on his life source. Before her eyes he starts to transform. His face becomes smaller, his lips softer. His eyes change from brown to blue. He slumps in the ropes and she watches his body shrink until he is the same height as her. She looks into her own face, a face that smiles back at her. Already the wound is healing above newly formed breasts. She kisses the tiny hole that remains and her doppelganger’s nipple hardens.
‘Untie me,’ the other asks in her voice.
Freya hurries behind the tree and feeds the rope back through the knots. The rope drops and the creature steps forwards.
Freya removes her clothes and passes them to her sister.
‘Happy birthday, Sister.’ Freya grins. ‘I will call you Deya, but others will call you Freya. They will think you are me. Take all that’s good from me and leave me free from conscience and regret. Deya, live my life better than I was able to. I am going to join my goddess. I love you. Be happy.’
Deya bends towards Freya and cups her sister’s chin in one delicate hand. She kisses her twin on the lips. ‘Thank you.’
‘Do you need me to stay?’ Freya asks.
‘No, go,’ Deya answers.
‘Farewell sister,’ Freya says, embracing her other. She crosses the grove to the willow tree and parts its branches. Beyond she can see sand and twilight.
Deya tidies the objects into her bag. She wipes the knife in the moss to clean the blood from its blade. When she is satisfied that the woods look undisturbed she heads towards Dave’s motorbike. Knowing instinctively what to do, she rides it back to the park, dumps it beside the gate and heads for her new home. Freya’s bed welcomes her. Dreams do not trouble her. She is fresh and new. Sleep brings with it journeys towards the setting sun.
Before the sun rises again Deya joins her new family for breakfast. Freya’s mother is making eggs. The softness of the egg and the crunch of the toast please her. She feels eyes upon her as she shovels the food into her mouth.
‘Hungry?’ It is Freya’s father, Mike, who speaks.
Deya nods.
‘Knowing Freya, she didn’t cook herself anything last night.’ There is anger in Lorraine’s voice that Deya chooses to ignore.
‘Thank you,’ Deya answers as she empties her plate. ‘It was delicious.’
She stands and kisses Mike and Lorraine before exiting the kitchen. Father’s skin glows as she touches her lips against his cheek. Mother’s skin softens.
‘Excuse me,’ she mumbles and wanders into the garden.
Silence follows her through the door into the crisp morning air. Her lungs burn for a cigarette. She wonders whether this addiction belongs to Freya or Dave. She hears the door open and close behind her.
‘You okay, Sis?’ It is Ivan. The one Freya desires.
Deya looks at him. He is pale and thin, his face too soft and his body too angular.
‘Of course,’ she answers.
‘It’s just…you seem different.’
‘I had good dreams. Do you have a cigarette?’
‘You don’t smoke, Freya.’ Ivan cocks his head to one side and studies her face.
Will he see the real me? She rubs her hands together and breathes mist towards him. ‘It feels like I need one.’
His warm hand touches her forehead. The touch of skin against skin delights her.
‘I think I might tidy this garden,’ she says.
‘It’s Monday morning. Won’t you be expected at work?’ Ivan asks.
‘Hmm I guess so. Can you drop me over there?’
‘No problem, but are you sure you’re well enough?’ he asks.
‘Of course I am. I feel strong,’ Deya answers.
She looks up at him. He nods. Breeze ruffles his hair. Beyond him she sees a tree full of ribbons. She smiles. ‘I love your tree.’
He looks across and smiles too. ‘So do I. If you want you can add your own ribbons. Wait, where are your ribbons, Freya?’
‘I took them out. What do you think?’
‘You look beautiful.’ He nods thoughtfully. ‘Maybe you and Mum should talk.’
Deya shrugs. ‘You’re right, but I guess I ought to get ready for work first.’
She slips away from his confused expression and smiles to herself. As she climbs the stairs two at a time she hums. Lorraine steps out onto the landing as Deya turns at the top of the stairs.
‘Hi,’ Deya says, smiling.
Her mother returns her smile then hurries away.
She leans on her door and swings into her bedroom. The wardrobe is full of black, grey and purple clothing. What should I wear? What do I wear to work? She grabs a black blouse and pencil skirt, smoothes a pair of stockings up her legs and ties her hair back with a single ribbon. From her dressing table she grabs a mauve lipstick and applies it then adds a little grey around her eyes. She blows a kiss at the mirror, delightful. Grabbing her bag, which she hopes will contain everything she needs, she skips out of the door and bounds down the stairs.
Ivan joins her in the hall and shrugs into his duffel coat. She follows suit and grabs a velvet coat from a hook. He nods and they head outside.
The air turns their breath to mist. A sprinkling of frost glistens on the grass and path.
‘It’s definitely winter,’ Ivan says.
He seems uncomfortable as if he’s talking simply to fill the silence. How strange. The chill morning is delicious to her. She nods and listens to the ice crackle beneath her feet as she steps towards Ivan’s Citroen.
His car takes an age to start. It might have been quicker to walk to work. She waits patiently, sucking her lips. Ivan closes his eyes and turns the ignition key one more time. They hear the engine spark, then splutter, then catch. He switches on the heater and wipes the windscreen with a grubby looking cloth. The windscreen wipers protest as they drag to and fro on the other side of the glass. Ivan cranks open his window a few inches and rubs his hands together. The boots he wears are unlaced. He shuffles his feet behind their loose tongues.
Deya feeds a cassette into the player. The car is filled with electric guitar. She turns the music down a little and looks across at Ivan.
‘Are we ready?’ she asks.
‘Just let the screen clear, Sis. I’ll get you ther
e in time.’
She settles back into the woven seat and closes her eyes.
***
Freya lifts her face to the empty sky. The air is still and the sand below her feet is perfectly flat. It feels solid as she steps forward. Her feet make no indents; she is either weightless or the sand has the density of rock.
A beacon of light shines in the distance. She walks towards it. Lilith is calling me. The desert around her is still. No birds mark the sky. No trees interrupt the barren landscape. Her foot lands on something sharp. Ouch! She lifts it to study her sole. Blood. A drop of it falls to the ground next to something silver. A blade protrudes from the sand. She bends down and pulls out Satori’s dagger, smiling. Maybe this means Lilith will let me kill him? To kill him with his own sacred blade, that would be beautiful.
Dampness between her legs brings her thoughts back to Dave. She had to kill him or, if not him, someone. It was the only way. Reaching here on the path Satori follows would be impossible for her, perhaps for him. She looks forward to greeting him if and when he does arrive.
She is about to take another step towards the light when her gaze is drawn downwards. There, below her feet something moves. The sand shifts. She jumps away and watches fascinated. The ground cracks. Her legs shake violently as she steps further away, then further still. Whatever moves beneath the ground feels huge and powerful. Her pounding heart tells her to run. As her legs obey and she leaps forward she hears an explosion and looks over her shoulder to witness the creature’s arrival. Its skin putrid lilac, its head five feet wide and what it lacks in eyes it makes up for in teeth. She pushes her body harder. Her feet are quick across the sand. A roar echoes around her. She clutches the knife, doubting its ability to protect her. Head down, she races for her life. A deep thud sends vibrations through her body. Its head must have hit the ground. She senses its pursuit and doesn’t waste time checking.
Her lungs burn. Her limbs crunch and threaten to crack each time they hit the ground. The light feels unreachable. Her breath tears at her throat each time she exhales and burns her nose each time she inhales.
‘Lilith, save me!’ she screams.
She feels the monster gain ground. The distance between them is halved then halved again. Its breath freezes her neck and shoulders. In spite of the pain she runs faster.
Freya is pushed off her feet. The leathery nose of the creature bruises her skull and for a moment she blacks out. Regaining consciousness she rolls onto her back to face her opponent. Her gritted teeth answer its gaping jaws. She thrusts she blade upwards into its lower jaw and thick tar-like liquid drenches her. The monster shudders but recovers too quickly. With the hilt of the dagger still protruding from its chin it closes its mouth around her arm. She feels a hundred fangs pierce her skin. She is lifted for a terrible moment then with a sickening crunch and a crack she falls heavily to the ground. She stares at the mouth. It opens and closes, masticating the meat within it. In horror she pulls her vision away from it and looks at the bloody stump at her shoulder. Blood coats the ground, her blood. She feels the desert beat like a drum below her. She hears a screech like an owl, and wonders whether it comes from her own mouth. Beneath her the ground bulges. Her tattered body throbs and she feels her heartbeat as it pumps blood from her. The monster faces her then turns towards the light. With a nod, which she understands to mean ‘to be continued,’ it pushes its nose back into the sand and disappears into a wormhole. Her legs scramble, trying to push her away. A large man strides towards her, silhouetted by the sun. Freya stares at him, trying to recognise the features of his face.
Chapter 30
When they return home Marian suggests Satori uses the spare room. He flops onto the bed listening to her move about his bedroom. Her gagging sounds repulse and shame him, but he has no strength to help her.
Another task faces him. He knows this. He must become independent. He can no longer rely so completely on others. What does that mean? Must I close myself off to love? No, it doesn’t mean that. I must love as a man, not as a boy. I must find the strength inside me to do as my mother does now. I should start immediately, wash my own sheets and cook the food we both need to eat. Find a job. Move out. I cannot stay here forever, a prisoner of my own insecurities. These are things that need to happen here, in the real world. He drags himself out of bed and joins his mother in his room.
‘I’ll do that, Mum.’
She looks at him as if not comprehending his words. ‘Let me do it. Sit down and I’ll make you some dinner.’
‘No. I have to do it myself. You’ve had a long day, Mum. Please.’
She moves away from the pile of bedding and he grabs it from the floor. The smell is overwhelming. He carries it into the bathroom and tips what he can into the toilet then carries the filthy bundle downstairs.
She stands behind him as he pushes the sheets into the washing machine. He stares at the dial.
‘Number two,’ she tells him.
He laughs and she laughs too.
He opens the drawer and pours powder and softener inside then switches on the machine. He sprays disinfectant on his arms. It stings and he hears his mother gasp. As he washes his hands and arms the pain subsides. Apart from a pink glow there is no damage to his skin. He pulls away when Marian tries to check his arms.
‘I’m fine,’ he says.
He pulls a saucepan from a cupboard and fills it with water then places it on the stove.
‘What are you making?’ she asks.
‘Pasta.’
‘Thank you,’ she says. Her smile is bright. ‘I have a little work to finish. Do you mind?’
‘Go ahead. I’ll call you when it’s ready.’
She hesitates for a moment before leaving the room. Satori opens the fridge and grabs some green beans and carrots. He wanders around the kitchen grabbing pasta and tomatoes, herbs and an onion. Will this be enough, living here, sharing chores, supporting Marian financially and practically? Will it be enough to secure my independence? A lump in his throat tells him he must move out. He has no idea how he will tell her.
He drains the pasta and vegetables and stirs in the sauce. As it starts to bubble he tastes it and adds a little honey and balsamic vinegar. He tastes it again, grabs two plates and opens a bottle of wine. He lays the table, dishes the food and tells his mother dinner is ready.
She holds up her hand and mouths thank you. He walks back to the kitchen and waits for her. The steam from the food becomes less furious. He takes a sip of the wine. It warms him.
She hurries towards him and sits at the opposite side of the table, smiling. ‘Thank you.’
‘You’re welcome. I hope it’s okay.’
‘It smells lovely.’ She hesitates for a moment as if finding the right words to say then starts eating.
He starts too. It isn’t too bad. Although the wine tastes better than the food.
‘I’m going to look for a job tomorrow,’ he tells her.
‘That’s wonderful. There’s a position at my office actually.’
‘Thanks, but I’ll look for something myself. I…’
She stops eating for a moment but doesn’t look up.
‘I think it’s time I moved out,’ he says.
‘What? But you can’t. I…when?’
‘I don’t know, Mum, but soon.’
‘When did you decide this?’ She stutters. Her hand grips her fork although she seems to have forgotten her food.
‘Just before I came in to grab the sheets,’ he says.
‘I would have cleaned them.’ Tears form in the corners of her eyes.
‘I know. I’m twenty-four, Mum. I should have my own place.’
‘I thought…I…’
‘I’m sorry.’ He pities her. She is a strong, intelligent woman, but she is lonely. She needs him as much as he has needed her.
‘No, it’s okay. You’re right. Thank you for the food, but I…I don’t feel very hungry right now. Excuse me.’ Her chair scrapes across the floor as she pushes
herself to her feet. She looks at him again, her face full of confusion and leaves the room.
He finishes his dinner and pours a second glass of wine. Am I doing the right thing? Perhaps? Marian has always given me so much: security, love, respect. Do I really have to move out now and leave her alone? He remembers his reflection. Yes. It will hurt. It will hurt both of us, but it must be done.
He hauls clean linen from the cupboard and returns to his room. The awful smell lingers densely in every fibre: in his bed, the walls and even the floorboards. He opens a window and freezing late November air rushes in to greet him. Returning the bedding to the cupboard he retreats to the spare bedroom.
As he closes his eyes he feels the contents of the room crush him: boxes, books and dark wood furniture. Towers of things stretch out above where he lies, threatening to bury him. I cannot travel here. Hopefully I can sleep at least.
Sleep comes, but with it dreams. The peace of oblivion never arrives. He wanders through a desert. Star’s light draws him towards a point on the horizon. He can feel her pain. Behind him his mother calls ‘Don’t leave me.’
He wants to stop, find solace, but he knows he cannot. He left such things behind him at the lake. There will be no more escape. He will face everything he has to face and move onwards. He will put his trust in Star and in himself. It is the only way to travel through this desolation. In the distance he sees a shape. It crawls towards him. As he strides closer to it he realises the crawl is more of a shuffle or slither. A monstrous baby approaches.
His veins freeze. What is this creature? Is it me? Its skin is covered in scales, not only its arms. Together with its sharpened jaws it looks barely human. He squats down to meet it. Its eyes, one green and one grey, stare at him. He shivers.
‘Are you me?’ he asks it.
It cocks its head to one side and reaches its reptilian arms towards Satori.
He fights the urge to recoil. It’s only a dream and he must work through the images. to discover what his subconscious wishes to tell him. He reaches out and picks up the infant. He cradles it in his arms and the baby smiles. Its razor-sharp teeth shine. Satori sees traces of blood and flesh between them.
Starblood Trilogy Page 35