The Cult of The Enemy: The Dark Places Trilogy

by S. G Mark

  “Can I have the pleasure of knowing your name?” he asked.

  Her cheeks now a definitive crimson, “Saskia, and yours?”

  “Harry,” he said, brushing down his jacket in an effort to smarten himself up, “I know this is… a little odd and maybe you’ve got other plans, but,” he paused, pretending to take in her beauty, “You’re too beautiful to just let walk away into the sunset… would you like a drink… with me?”

  Her friend coughed to suppress her smirk, but Saskia’s smile was radiant. His compliments felt less of a lie.

  “Yes,” she said, brightly.

  “Right now, I mean,” Jack continued his seduction, “It’s a gorgeous day and I don’t want to waste it with anyone else…”

  He knew he was bordering on creep, but for some reason Saskia disagreed; though her friend’s face fell when she answered.

  “Alright,” she smiled, “Yes. I will, Harry.”

  Her friend shot her a look, which Saskia controlled with a simple glance.

  “I’ll head back then,” her friend said.

  Jack ignored her, he had to pretend to be mesmerised by this girl. It was hard when he felt close to vomit.

  As her friend rose to her feet in a strop and sauntered down the path, Jack took her seat and gazed at Saskia.

  “You study here, at the university, right?” he asked.

  Saskia nodded, seemingly unsure of how to reply.

  “What do you study?” he furthered the conversation. He was just as nervous as she was, but he had to force himself not to show it.

  “Philosophy,” she croaked, nerves stealing her throat, “What do you study??”

  He smiled, and aimed to score a sympathetic point from her. The daughter of a rich man who fed ducks with fresh bread.

  “You’ll probably judge me,” he began, “But I didn’t go to Oxford.”

  “Judge you? Of course not,” she said, “We aren’t all undergrads of snobbery.”

  “Good,” he said, shaking his leg in faux nervousness, “I was worried you might think yourself above me… intelligent girl like you.”

  “Don’t be silly,” she said, sweetly.

  There was a lull in conversation and Jack stared at the tips of his toes as he shuffled them around in his shoes to keep them warm.

  “So this drink, where do you want to get it?” she said.

  “Do you know anywhere in particular?” he said, “Maybe afterwards we could grab some food too?”

  His charm was rusty; thankfully he wasn’t Jack in this moment in time.

  Saskia smiled, “Yeah, I know a little place just nearby - great food too.”

  The Black Bull pub was nestled on the corner of one of the bridges over the river. As he held the door open for his date, he could hear the water gently rushing by. Inside was a haven of warmth. An empty haven, though. They took seats by the window which overlooked an overgrown thicket, a long forgotten hedgerow and a nest of seedling trees before rapidly descending to the river bank.

  A cosy table lay between them, complete with unlit tealight in a glass holder - presumably for the more romantic side of the afternoon when the sun fell below the horizon and the world collapsed into gloom. Saskia was staring slightly behind him in a disengaged fashion. Jack, too, was struggling for something to say. Up to this point, he had felt disgusted with himself; now that he was manipulating the girl by way of a date, he felt dirty. He looked at her and could not deny her looks - she was pretty. Could he really justify his actions by telling himself that this was just an innocent date? His issue was not with her, but with her father and in turn his friends. Did this teenager really deserve to be dragged into the mess? Her blue eyes told him no, his steely heart ignore them.

  “So tell me about yourself,” he asked, catching the bartender’s eye.

  “Uh,” she seemed a little timid, “Well you know my name,” she stifled a nervous laugh that resembled more of a hiccough, “Apart from that there isn’t much to tell…”

  “I already know that’s not true,” he said, “What are your interests - you study philosophy, what made you pick that?”

  “It was partly my dad,” she said, Jack trying not to flinch with guilt, “He wanted me to come here and I didn’t know what to study. So he suggested a few subjects and I liked the sound of philosophy - I liked how there weren’t any answers, just questions.”

  “What do you want to drink?” Jack found his confidence again as the bartender strolled up to their table.

  “Uhh,” she stammered.

  “Don’t worry,” he reassured her, “I’m paying…”

  A clot in his throat thickened as her father’s money burned with metaphorical anger in his wallet.

  “I’ll have a white wine if you have it?” she asked, her eyes looking up hopefully.

  The barman nodded, “We have a range-”

  “Just the cheapest,” she interrupted him, before turning to Jack, “I can’t take your money…”

  He smiled and felt even more disgusting. Poor Saskia did not want to take advantage of him, and as much as he returned her sentiments, he ordered a bottle of white with her father’s money, which he had blackmailed his way into receiving. The fresh sting of alcohol could not come quick enough.

  Saskia began recounting her studies as Jack played his pre-prepared questions as if he had only just come to this knowledge. As it turned out she was finding it much less interesting in her second year than she had in her first. In time she revealed to Jack that she had grown up in London with her family and that she visited a lot less often than they’d like. She was enjoying independent life and had a great friendship group in her housemates. When it came to what Jack did, he relied heavily upon his honed skill of lying.

  “I did a little travelling a few years back, before the recession really hit. Wish I could have stayed travelling though - just me and my backpack,” he feigned reminiscence, “It’s nice to earn some money in the city though, but paying your rent isn’t as satisfying as just taking off somewhere.”

  Saskia went on to describe her family trips to South America when she was younger. As she recounted how the rainforests glistened in the unrelenting sunlight, Jack struggled to hide his jealousy. By comparison his family camping trips to France were akin to a week at Butlins in Skegness to her. He felt distinctly out of place.

  “Dad was always the adventurous one,” she continued, “Mum likes home but she enjoyed all our travels, though maybe not the spiders. I think Dad kind of wishes he’d skipped on the family and lived in a hut in some country along the equator.”

  “Your family sounds great,” he said, downing nearly a third of his wine in one gulp, “It’s a shame you don’t go home much to see them.”

  “Studying at Oxford, honestly you have no time… but yeah,” she seemed to want to say something else, but stopped herself and followed Jack’s lead by sipping her wine.

  He leant back in his chair and gazed at her, forcing himself to think romantically of her. A tiny part of him felt that he was betraying Eliza - but what was there left to betray? A week’s bliss preceded by months of longing and denial? He suppressed all emotions and continued with his job.

  Saskia caught his eye and blushed, “Shall we order some food?”

  Not taking his eyes from her, he signalled the barman to come over.

  By the time their meals arrived, the pub had filled up more. Afternoon had melted lazily into evening, and the twinkle of the streetlights now reflected the faint stars above. Inside the warmth simmered as the chattering and hubbub stirred like smoke around a fire. Saskia had popped to the bathroom and Jack was quite alone at his table. Whilst his eyes strayed, captivated by the wealth pouring from pockets and into the till, his mind was far out to a choppy sea. Guilt was a shore he had not seen in days. Wherever he was now, it went beyond anything he had ever experienced - all those mistakes that he’d channelled under reason or ignorance, had no place in this world. Jack gagged back the vomit he felt rising to his throat. He wasn�
��t just playing soldiers. No, he had left the training ground some time ago, it had only taken him this long to realise.

  Saskia arrived back as he was picking away at the shreds of chicken that still clung to the bone.

  “Not still hungry are you?” she sighed, slipping delicately into her seat, “I’m absolutely full.”

  Jack’s insides were indeed still screaming for more following their meagre, but delicious meal. Still, after months, if not years, since his last meal out his idea of food had become slanted. Food was sustenance, dining out was luxury. It seemed that Saskia had followed her family’s trait and had confused the two.

  “Sorry,” he apologised, stopping immediately.

  “No, please,” she said, “There’s enough hunger in the world without me guilt-tripping you into more.”

  “Do you see much of it here?” he asked her, quite without thinking.

  “Oxford is one of those towns, isn’t it… you just think about it and all you see is privileged young students getting pissed after lectures and joining clubs and groups that they’ll be friends with for life. We all know them. Heck, my dad was one of them. Some of the house wardens remember him from when he was here. It’s a bit frightening, the reputation you sort of have to live up to when you come to a place like this and I guess if you don’t think too much about it you’ll be fine… but I find it hard. You can see the poverty on every High Street but no one bats an eyelid.”

  “Why?”

  “Too much hassle, I suppose,” she said, pouring the last drop of wine into her glass, “Anyway, I’m not going to be the one talking politics on a date.”

  She grinned widely and Jack copied her, strangely agreeing with her despite the whole reason he was on a date with her in the first place.

  “I suspect Martha will be worried about me,” she said quite vacantly.

  “Martha?”

  “The girl you saw me with earlier,” she said, “I’d better let her know where I am.”

  Jack looked at Saskia and immediately reached out a hand for hers. Immediately she stopped texting her friend to turn to him, her cheeks a crimson.

  “You’re very beautiful,” he said, caressing her soft hands. He wanted to reel her in one more time before he vanished. With his free hand he took out his phone and turned the camera lens towards them. He smiled and from the corner of his eye he saw her grinning. The camera flashed and the evidence was taken. His business with the girl was complete. He could now feel positively sick for the rest of his days.

  Placing his phone on the table, he focussed his attentions on her, “I’ve seen you about town a lot over the past few weeks, my friends would kill themselves laughing that I actually asked you out for a date.”

  “Really?” she embarrassed that she meant that much to someone.

  “Tonight has been good,” she said, “I’m glad you did ask me.”

  The guilt scratched at his aorta.

  “Could,” he began, but feeling that he was overstepping every ethical line in the book, he stopped himself.

  However, Saskia had already finished his question and grabbed his phone before he could stop her. She unlocked it. He watched her nervously as she typed into it. Thankfully, there was nothing of his real identity on it.

  “There,” she said, handing him back his phone complete with her number, “And if you asked me again, I’d love to.”

  He smiled weakly at her, his skin turning a pale shade of peach, “I’ll call you.”

  “I’m going to have to go now, I’m afraid,” she said, “There’s an assignment due next Thursday, and I haven’t even finished the reading for it.”

  “No, no, please, don’t apologise,” it only made him more guilty.

  Saskia was the first to stand up, patting down her skirt as she did so and collecting her things together when she felt more comfortable that she was completely perfect. He led her through the crowd that had gathered in the bar and out into the open air. Their breath turned to ice, and an instant numbness tingled their fingers.

  Still somewhat sheltered by the entrance, Jack turned to Saskia and felt another surge of guilt for what he had done tonight. It wasn’t just the lying, he was used to that by now. It was the intent, rather the malintent for which he had planned it for. This was beyond the lying to cover his tracks about his sister; this wasn’t to hide from his relatives or disassociate himself with the mistakes he’d made; this had nothing to do with covering for a friend or being ignorant of all the facts. Jack Blackwood knew exactly what he was doing and though he cared for this girl as he cared for any other human being, at the end of the day she was just a tool to him; a tool to extort her father for money and information. Jack Blackwood the liar; as if the man could ever have been anything else.

  “Saskia,” he turned to her and inhaled calmly, “Thank you for a wonderful evening.”

  He leant into kiss her on the cheek, but she had other intentions. As his lips took aim, her own changed his course and collided with him mid-way. Obliged to continue in his lies, he kissed her back, passionately and longingly; closing her eyes he imagined she was someone else entirely, someone forbidden, someone out of all reach. He withdrew and bit the side of his mouth to stop the emotion creeping on to his face.

  “The night isn’t over yet,” she grinned before turning on her heel and sauntering over the bridge, flexing her hips provocatively.

  “I thought you had an assignment due,” Jack aimed to sound more excited than disappointed. He hadn’t planned this far ahead. He hadn’t planned anything past “Hello.”

  “It can wait,” she said, sliding her hand into his and leading him along the pavement.

  There was no protocol for this in Kyle’s training. Jack was passed the point of rules and guidelines. Where he was rules were yet to be invented. With her arm wrapped keenly around his, there was no escaping the lawlessness. He had come here for a purpose and he was not going to fail.

  Saskia didn’t live too far away. When they awkwardly removed their wintry items in her hallway, each of her flatmates came out to introduce themselves. It seemed that his reputation preceded him - if only by an hour or two. Jack was far too nervous and consumed with guilt to pay attention to any of their names or even respond adequately to their minor interrogations. When Saskia led him into her room, Jack was both relieved and mortally nauseous.

  He sat down on the edge of her bed. A student’s room surrounded him. Yesterday’s crockery stuffed under the desk; piles of revision work uniformly scribbled on and a desk chair lost underneath a mountain of laundry. It reminded him exactly of Eliza’s room and he felt another searing throb of guilt. The last time he was sitting on the edge of a girl’s bed, it was Eliza’s; but this time his last kiss was no longer with her. Though he never admitted it to himself, he enjoyed knowing that she was his last… the last lips to touch his own, the last body he saw naked… Somehow he could hold on to it more if he never spoke of it. Those moments where he undressed her for the first time could forever be contained in those soft seconds before sleep succumbs.

  Saskia sat on the bed next to him. That was when he noticed the cute quilt she had adorned her bed in. She kissed him on the neck; he stretched back to accommodate, a painful expression jading his face.

  “Are you alright?” she withdrew slightly, picking up the tension.

  “Yes, sorry,” he stammered, “Just all your flatmates… I wouldn’t be surprised if they were listening at the door.”

  “Ignore them,” she pulled his face towards her own, blocking his only exit from view, “It’s just you and me.”

  “You barely know me,” he played for time.

  “Do I look like I care?” her eyes bulged seductively. She leant back on the bed; her hair splaying on her pillow.

  Jack knew his plan wouldn’t work quite as well in its current form. It needed edge, and this was certainly defining the precipice. This is what he wanted: to be more risky, to be more threatening. It just wasn’t who he was. But if he left right now, h
ow could even pluck up the courage to continue with the rest of the plan?

  Closing his eyes, he thought of Eliza; never before had he missed her so much. It wasn’t just her sweet face, it was a simpler life. As complicated as it was, it was a remote utopia compared to the land of dread, death and fear he currently dwelled in.

  When he opened his eyes again, he was kissing her deep on the mouth. Eliza, encased in the body of this stranger. He pushed his body on to her small frame, his hands defining her waist and his crotch pressed rigidly against her pelvis.

  Saskia’s cold hands pulled his shirt off and threw it across the room; Jack tore open Eliza’s blouse and kissed her chest as buttons rained down from the bed. He was back in Relugas Road. They were alone, just as they had been the last day they spent together. She had her hair up, and was wearing bright red lipstick that he would have been strewn across his body by the end. He lusted for her. He desired her. He was desperate for her body and craved every inch of her skin.

  Sweat poured from their bodies and they lunged their bodies against each other with immeasurable passion. Jack’s tongue was deep down Eliza’s mouth just as he ebbed deep inside her.

  “Oh Harry,” she groaned, her hands stroking down his soaking back.

  Suddenly, he drew back; sliding out of her in shock as his senses snapped back online. Inches beneath him was not Eliza. It never had been and he felt disgusted with himself that he had allowed the illusion in his mind.

  “What’s wrong?” Saskia said, sitting up as he rose from the bed, shielding his horrified face from hers. “Was it something I did?”

  He was pulling on his boxers and jeans as fast as he could.

  “Harry,” she stood up, her naked body reminding him of his crimes. “Talk to me?”

  But he kept his tongue as he frantically tore her room apart looking for his shirt.

  “What the fuck is this about?” the first stages of anger seeped through her tone as he threw open the bedroom door.