Darkness Watching (Darkworld #1) (4 page)

“Awesome.”

“Ash, are you sure you don’t want to wait until your cold’s better?” said Mum.

“I’m fine,” I said, my default response to avoid explaining my theory that being cold all the time made me stop noticing it altogether.

I always felt as though there was a constant draft against my skin. The doctor unhelpfully said I had a cold. I might not be a medical practitioner, but to the best of my knowledge, colds generally went away after a few days.

There has to be a rational explanation
, I thought. But I knew the demons made it cold. Only when I saw
them
did I really feel it.

Early Saturday morning, Cara and I took the train to Preston, where a bus service ran to the university.

“Bloody hell, it’s cold,” she yelped, as we jumped off the bus into a gale. The tour began just outside the student village, which was helpfully signposted.

“Pretty, though,” I said, indicating the collection of sandy-coloured houses surrounded by patches of vivid green grass. A field doubled as a car park, with a path down the centre leading into the nearby woods, and, on the other side, the village, also named Blackstone, through the woodland that surrounded the campus on all sides.

Blackstone University was about as isolated as you could get, a small campus tucked away on a hillside. As Cara put it, “The only inhabitants are students and sheep.”

Several of the latter watched us from the field, woollen coats fluffed up against the wind.

The tour took us on a winding loop around campus, and I felt my smile growing bigger by the minute.
Perfect.
Cara shook her head when I grinned at the reading list.

“You’re crazy, Ash.”

“You know you love me for it.”

“Damn straight. Enjoy your Milton. But”—she tapped me on the nose—”No. Stressing. Got it?”

“Yes, mother,” I said, with another grin.

I could trust Cara to stand by me. She’d scored an offer from Edinburgh the week before, and couldn’t wait to move to her favourite city.

“My sister went there, it’s ace,” she said. “Not sure I’ll go as wild as she did, though. She tells me she woke up next to a new guy every week and has a collection of traffic cones mounted on her wall.”

“Seriously?” I said. “Definitely not the life for me. Quiet literary discussions are more my thing.”

“You’re like an old woman, Ash. What about dating?”

“If I meet a guy who loves Milton, it’s clearly meant to be,” I said. “Well, I guess that’d be more like a threesome.” Truthfully, I never wanted to read
Paradise Lost
again, but my comment made Cara shriek with laughter.

“You’re a riot,” she said.

“Don’t forget about me,” I half-joked. My other friends… well, I’d never been Miss Popularity―less so since I’d ostracised myself―but I found it hard to ignore the way people sidestepped me in the corridors like I’d contracted leprosy, or walked into me like I was invisible. Even Alice and Sammy, my friends from primary school. I knew I looked the same, outwardly at least. I kept my insanity all on the inside. People changed, I guessed.

People at Blackstone University would accept me. I had to believe that. I hoped against hope I’d get flatmates who, like me, preferred to read a book or watch a film to clubbing.

“This place is like the set for a bad horror movie,” said Cara later, as we waited for the bus back, this time from Blackstone village itself. “You’re just asking for an encounter with a serial killer. Hannibal Lecter probably hangs out at the Coach and Horses.” She referred to the local pub frequented by students. Personally, I thought it quite cosy.

“It’d be pretty handy living on a hill if there’s a zombie invasion,” I said.

“True. But that forest is damn creepy. We should film our own version of
The Blair Witch Project.”

“If you want.”

“You’re dead sure you want to come here?”

“I think so. Yeah.”

One thing swayed it for me. All day, I didn’t see a single demon.

en Months Later

The car rattled along the country road as we drove between rolling green hills. As usual, it sounded like it might fall apart, this time with the added weight of all my worldly possessions. Bags and boxes hemmed me in on either side and pinned my feet to the floor. The sense of claustrophobia didn’t help my nerves.

This really isn’t a good time to be having a panic attack.

My throat felt tight; I couldn’t swallow, much less speak. My heart drummed frantically, and I felt lightheaded.
For God’s sake, not here.
It would hardly be a shining start to my future if I passed out before I even reached the university.

University.
It’s really happening.
Ten months ago, I wouldn’t even have thought it possible.

The roads became harder to navigate the deeper into the countryside we drove. The car bumped and rattled, jolting me out of my seat every few seconds, and the trees either side of the path grew thicker, bay willows reaching out long arms to brush against the car on either side. At one point, a crow swooped right in front of us, causing Dad to brake so hard, the car almost stood on its nose. He swore loudly.

“Where in God’s name is this place?” he said. “We’re in the bloody forest!”

“It’s in the middle of nowhere,” I informed him.

“I get that!” he said. “These directions make no sense. You say there are buses
here?”

“Yep,” I said. “Cara and I got one.”

She’d departed to Edinburgh the day before, after our tearful goodbye. My new iPhone―an unexpectedly extravagant birthday present from my parents―showed seven texts since she’d arrived.

I rolled my eyes as I read through the latest, advising me on the best methods of self-defence. Keys, apparently, made a useful weapon. I’d keep that in mind, assuming I didn’t
lose
my keys, something I managed to do at least once a week at home. But, as I’d told Cara, this place was about the safest anyone could find. I’d survived eighteen years in the Manchester suburbs, where stabbings made the headlines every day; I highly doubted a serial killer would pick this insignificant little village as a target.

And I’d long since stopped being frightened by ghost stories.

I scrolled through my text messages to take my mind off my erratic breathing. Right now, I’d take a chance at a new start―panic attacks and all.

We left the forest, re-joining the main road, where a queue of traffic waited. The car in front of us, like ours, sagged under the weight of bags and boxes. A girl sat in the back seat, pinned on either side by luggage. I could just make out a cloud of red hair behind a pile of books, which looked in danger of spilling everywhere.

Then I saw it. By the roadside, a patch of air shimmered, like a heat haze, a distortion in the world. Blink once and it looked normal. Blink twice and I saw a black void that shouldn’t be there. Though I could no longer claim they petrified me here, they still elicited the same physical response, teasing the hairs on my arms up, making my skin prickle all over. Anger rose in me. I directed my thoughts at the creature, along with my fiercest glare:
Why do you bastards keep trying to ruin my life?

The thing just grinned at me, impossibly white teeth gleaming in a half-invisible mouth.

The fear returned in full. A chorus of shrill voices in my head screamed,
What the hell am I thinking? Turn back!

Who was I kidding? I was incapable of acting normal. I’d be the outcast again, the strange twitchy girl always on the edge of her seat, incapable of relaxing around anyone. I might as well make
invisible demons
the topic of my first conversation with my new flatmates―why not cut to the chase?

Well, that’s just effing fantastic
, I thought. Like I needed reminding now.

“As if you could escape us, Ashlyn.”

I twisted around and stared as we passed.
It just spoke to me
. The last time had been on the day of the Dictionary Incident.

But then the girl in the other car shifted in her seat. She pushed aside a pile of bags, to make space to see out of the back window where the demon hovered. Then she looked at me. Right at me. As if she
knew.

Then the traffic started moving, and she was gone.

Mum and Dad drove me to the supermarket first, to stock up on enough food for the first few weeks. By the time we began the slow climb through the hills toward the university, a fine drizzle surrounded us in a cloud and turned the countryside into a blur of green. The road wove in and out of small copses, and, when we emerged from a longer stretch of forest, I saw a line of cars beside the sign that read,
Blackstone University: Student Village
. I knew from my last visit that the village was a collection of fifty or so sandy-coloured houses, four stories each, containing two flats per floor, each for six students.

“Hi!” squeaked a voice. A pink face underneath an umbrella greeted us with a wide smile. “The car park’s just this way!”

The girl directed us to an expanse of grass just behind the student halls. Dad parked the car next to a flashy-looking motorbike.

“I’m Danielle, your Student Rep. I’ll show you to your new room,” said the girl.