Blood Fugue (20 page)

The tips of each tongue pressed against her axillae. He smelled and tasted her saltiness. He knew everything about her from the teardrops and blood he’d already tasted. Her cells were now part of his. As soon as he penetrated her, his cells would then flow into her and she would know him; everything from his birth to this moment would be accessible. To feed was to share it all.

He did not exude the anaesthetic serum. She would know what was happening to her; she would feel it all. If she survived there was a chance that she might remember, but he doubted it. The Fugue was too efficient, too total to bypass. He forced himself through her skin with his soft flesh first and he felt her trying to scream even harder than before. He wanted to hear those sounds, to make the feed complete but he could not risk detection. He stifled every utterance by controlling the saliva in her throat and mouth and drawing it to other areas. When four of his tongues had breached the walls of her femoral and brachial arteries, the satisfaction of the first intrusion was complete. Above her skin, the thick bodies of each tongue pulsed in time with her heartbeat. He let the blood come slowly; there was no reason to rush.

The desire to crush himself against her was strong. Every spike on his body would wound her and yet more fluid would be his. She tried to look away from him but he turned her face back with one cold claw and looked deep into her eyes.

‘I am within you now, girl, and you are within me.’

She stared back, uncomprehending, eyes wide with the pain of his invasions. He looked down at the thick black hair of her crotch and could restrain himself no longer. He could feel the totality of her fear and was ready when her bladder gave way; his belly tongue waited at her lower lips and wasted nothing. It retracted and he pressed the tip of his snaggled penis into her resistant warmth. She could do nothing to close herself to him, not even her eyes. As he began to thrust and retreat, her face contorted into a mask of extremity. He thought he saw the madness of acceptance in her eyes. So, finally, she was his.

He laid his body against her, puncturing her flesh in a dozen more places, and put his head against hers.

‘I am sharing the forest with you, girl, and I am sharing you with the forest.’

All night he sapped her and made sure she did not lose consciousness. He drank her pain with her fluids and took nourishment from it all. Towards the end he felt her spirit beginning to slip free and he pulled himself away, tearing much skin and flesh from her as he did so. But none of her blood was spilled upon the ground of the dark clearing. Her flesh was pale and bloodless, almost dry. It was only his will that kept her alive, making sure there was enough blood concentrated in her brain and organs. Her end was near. He was at least partially satisfied by her sacrifice and he wanted to keep his promise to her. She would be another of his kind if he stopped now and gave her a chance to heal, but he could never feed from her again.

The knowledge made his heart ache with loss.

But his body was swollen with her fluids now, particularly her blood, and some of those fluids he had fed to the tree out of respect. It too had its hungers, its desires. He relaxed his tongues and her wounded, drained body fell to the leafy ground. There was no strength in her and she landed in an ungainly tangle, trapping an arm behind her back and with her legs splayed drunkenly. He saw the tearing at her thighs and crotch and yearned for more of her.

As he watched, her wounds began to close. Very slowly at first, but rapidly gaining momentum. The thinness caused by the feed also began to repair. Her shrivelled skin filled out again, her breasts inflated from lifeless bags to heavy mounds once more. Her face, narrow and gaunt, began to swell. The Fugue was deep inside her now. Swarming through the cells he had not absorbed. Soon she would feel the power and the call.

Full as he was, he felt he would not need to feed for a score of years, but in the back of his mind he knew the folly of that. The more he fed, the hungrier he became and the wider spread became the Fugue. He sank to his knees in exhaustion and the change from Rage to Fugue to human began.

He was asleep before it ended.

She awoke in the near blackness and found the clearing scattered with gently pulsating blossoms from the branches of the tree. They faded and died as she watched to be followed by more that spun down like tiny lilac lanterns. She was naked and did not know why but her body felt strong and vibrant. The tree was beautiful and she looked at it for a long time, her eyes now able to see in the low-lit gloom. Near the tree were tattered clothes she did not recognise. Strangest of all was the naked body of an ancient-looking man. His bones shone though his skin; the ribs and the shape of his skull making a cadaverous starveling of him. She wondered if he was dead. She did not know him. She did not know the place where she was but she knew that somewhere there was a home for her to go to and this home, the arbour, the dark sanctuary, would wait for her to return.

Wearing only her running shoes and enjoying the feel of the night air against her skin, she walked away from the tree and into the forest in the direction of the town.

— apart from the cold, all I remember after that is waking up here the next morning.’

‘Did you feel sick or hurt in any way?’

‘No. I felt better than I had in weeks.’

‘Gina, I need to know if you even suspect that someone assaulted you that day.’

‘Something happened out there. But I felt so good afterwards. I don’t think it could be that. If someone had hurt me, I’d know, wouldn’t I? I’d have scratches or bruises, right? It wasn’t like that, I just felt great.’

‘Maybe you were drugged and your euphoria was the result,’ said Nicholas.

Gina looked at her mother and then at him. He saw the uncertainty in her eyes and the fear. They were pushing her too hard.

‘Geen, honey whatever happened out there we just want to help,’ he said. ‘I know this must seem kind of intense but we’re doing our best. We’ll do anything we can to make sure you’re okay.’

‘It isn’t really me I wanted to talk to you about.’ Gina said. She disengaged from them and slouched back against the comfort of the sofa cushions. Nicholas adjusted his place on the sofa so he could see her.

‘What do you mean?’ He asked.

‘Well, it is me but I don’t think I’m the victim in all this.’

‘I don’t understand, Geen,’ said Isobel. ‘If you’ve been hurt in some way, we have to do something about it.’

‘I think other people have been hurt worse than me.’

‘What people?’

‘Alfred Lindh and Daniel Stringer.’

‘You know those boys?’

‘Sure. Not well, but I know them. They’re always fighting and making up. Everyone knows them.’

‘Gina, what are you saying here?’ asked Isobel. ‘Did you help them run away?’

‘Run away?’

‘Yes, that’s what they did isn’t it?’

‘I don’t think so,’ she said.

Nicholas leaned towards her.

‘What do you think happened?’ He asked.

‘I think they may be hurt or worse. I think I may have had something to do with it.’

Nicholas’s voice was quiet, shocked:

‘You make it sound like you think they’re dead.’

‘That is what I think.’ said Gina.

‘Do you know where they are?’ he asked.

‘All I remember is agreeing to meet them late at night. We were going to go into the woods.’

Her father was incredulous.

‘In the middle of the night, Gina? What the hell for?’

‘I don’t know!’

Gina’s face was pale; her eyes clenched shut and her fists bunched. She looked like she was about to tear the place apart. Nicholas stood up, gestured for Isobel to follow him and walked down the hall.

‘We’ll be right back, baby,’ Isobel said. She smoothed her skirt down when she stood and walked after Nicholas. He waited for her by the telephone table under the stairs.

‘We have to make a call to the sheriff right now,’ he said. ‘I don’t know what Gina’s trying to tell us but, I’m afraid for those boys.’

‘I don’t believe I’m hearing you correctly, Nick. Our daughter is suffering severe memory problems, possibly due to an assault, and you’re concerned over someone else’s kids? You know what I think? I think those boys drugged and raped our daughter in the woods three weeks ago. I think they then tried to do it again. Maybe they didn’t get away with it the second time and that’s why they’ve run off. You’d rather believe that Gina is a killer than accept she may have been sexually assaulted. That would be easier for you to deal with.’

Nicholas couldn’t speak for a few seconds. He spent those moments resisting the urge to break his wife’s jaw.

‘We’re going to call the law and let them do their job. You go sit with her while I phone them.’

‘Call a doctor too. I want her checked out for signs of assault.’

‘Isobel —’

‘Just fucking do it, Nick, okay?’

‘Fine.’

While he made the calls, Nicholas was aware of Isobel running from room to room. When he hung up he walked back to the living room and came face to face with her in the hallway.

‘What happened?’ he asked.

‘She’s gone,’ said Isobel.

Chapter 22

They knelt next to Carla beneath the spreading limbs of the tree; beside its thick, leviathan trunk. The clearing was almost in darkness but for a faint glow that had no apparent source. José was too concerned with Carla to give the phenomenon any thought.

‘What happened, Luis?’ José had laid his machete down and was listening to Carla’s chest.

‘I don’t know exactly. She reached out to touch the tree and the next moment she was lying there. Her charm necklace glowed purple. It was as if the tree gave her an electric shock.’

‘José, is she breathing? asked Maria. Can you hear her heart?’

‘Yes. It sounds strong and fine.’

He checked her pulse next.

‘Well?’

‘It is a little weak. I think she has fainted.’

‘Mother of God, I cannot wait to leave this forest and this country.’ Maria stroked Carla’s forehead and then bent over to kiss her cool cheek. ‘What can we do?’

José gathered the limp body of his daughter into his arms and struggled to his feet.

‘Luis, take the machete.’ Slack with unconsciousness, her weight was difficult to manoeuvre. José walked back towards the glow of the fire. ‘If it is a faint, she will come round very quickly.’

As if she’d heard his words, Carla began to stir in his arms.

‘Oh, thank you, Lord,’ said Maria.

‘How are you feeling, Carlita?’ asked José.

‘What happened?’

‘You fainted,’ he said

‘She was thrown, papa, I swear it.’

‘Quiet, Luis. No more teasing tonight.’

‘But papa, honestly —’

‘Enough.’ José’s voice echoed around through the darkness. ‘Don’t make me raise my voice to you again, Luis. Clear?’

‘Clear.’ said the boy.

‘Do you feel all right Carla?’ asked her mother.

‘Yes, fine. I’m just very hungry all of a sudden. Please put me down, papa. I can walk.’

José lowered her feet to the ground and she stood holding his shoulder for a moment more before walking ahead to the tent and the food. José turned to Maria and spoke quietly.

‘I expect she has walked too far and not eaten enough. It is my fault for being so insistent today. I’m sorry.’

‘You should be apologising to her not to me,’ said Maria. ‘The sooner we leave here, the better it will be for all of us.’

‘Yes. We will eat and go to sleep early. Tomorrow at dawn we will make a swift check of the clearing for signs of my grandfather and then we will go.’

‘You may be searching on your own, José. As soon as we are packed up, I’m going back along that trail. I no longer care whether we find your grandfather’s last resting place or not.’

The dinner was served in silence. When Maria saw Carla fingering the wooden amulet that was still around her neck, she stopped eating and let her plate and cutlery settle down into her lap.

‘I thought I told everyone to take those things off.’

‘I wanted to keep wearing it,’ said Carla. ‘What harm can it do?’

‘It is unchristian to wear a misshapen crucifix. It is an occult symbol that has no place next to the skin of a catholic.’

‘It makes me feel safe.’

‘Take it off immediately.’

Carla looked to her father for support.

‘You’d better take it off, Carlita,’ he said. ‘Just for now.’

‘No, José. Not just for now.’ Maria reached out her hand to her daughter. ‘Give it to me.’

Carla pulled the leather thong clear of her shirt collar and brought it over her head. She handed it her mother. Maria tossed it into the darkness. José said nothing. He looked down at his plate and continued to eat. Around them there was a brief surge of brightness as if lightning had flashed silently in the distance. The light left an afterglow in the clearing.