Psychopathia: A Horror Suspense Novel (18 page)

His eyes were round, wet marbles. ‘He says it’s a waste of time.’

‘What’s a waste of time?’ She inched closer.

‘Everything. Says I shouldn’t bother. It will hurt too much and I’m not strong enough to stop him.’

Tully’s hand wavered as she reached for him, brushed against the sleeve of his jacket. ‘You’re really strong,’ she said. ‘He doesn’t know what he’s talking about.’

Toby perked up at that. ‘You can tell him that? Please?’

That was a bit of a problem. ‘Sure,’ she said. ‘But we need to go home now. It’s late, and I’m getting cold. You want to take me home?’

Her brother looked past her, twisted his neck, peering all around them. ‘He’s gone,’ he said.

‘Okay. That’s good. We need to go too. Can we go home now, Toby?’

Licking his lips, Toby go to his feet. ‘I think he’s wrong,’ he said. ‘I don’t think anything can hurt me. You know I haven’t been sick for a long time?’

Tully nodded, tucked herself in close beside her brother,
herded him towards the path beside the canal. They could walk this way awhile, then find a taxi. She’d left the car at home so she could have a drink.

‘You know how I’ve been really
really fine for a long time now?’ Toby was saying. ‘It’s been months since I even had a cold and I used to get sick a lot.’ He was right, his constitution had never been that strong, it seemed like he caught every bug that even looked in his direction. ‘I’ve been thinking about it. I’m immortal. It stands to reason, doesn’t it?’ He shook his head.

Wild alarm bells went off inside Tully’s head. ‘You’re immortal?’

‘Yes. I think so. Which means, that what he said? He was wrong.’

She couldn’t make sense of anything Toby said. ‘Who is he?’ she asked, wondering what on earth was going on. ‘How much have you had to smoke today?’

Toby stumbled against her, and she had to prop him up. ‘No, it’s okay,’ he said. ‘I haven’t had that much.’ He pinched some night sky between his fingers. ‘Just about this much. Not very much at all. I’m okay. I know what I’m doing, I can handle it.’

Tully had her doubts about that, but she decided maybe humouring him was the best idea. ‘Sure. Okay. But I think we should call it a night, anyway.’

‘Night. Call it a night. Get it?’

She got it, but didn’t reply, just kept their feet moving down the path, towards the taxi stand outside the supermarket.

‘Night night shining bright. I’m a poet,’ he said. ‘Night, light, bright, fight, sight.’ He twisted his hands together, tucked them palm upwards against his chest. ‘Night, bright, light.’

Stopping suddenly, he turned to his sister and peered at her. ‘I’m serious,’ he said. ‘You know what I mean? Tell me you know what I mean. I’m trying to explain it. Night, bright, light.’

She blinked at him, swallowed. ‘Toby, you’re freaking me out. You’re not acting right.’

He frowned, and looked down at his feet. ‘No, it all makes sense.
It didn’t before, but it does now.’ He looked at her and a beatific smile dawned on his face. ‘You’re me and I’m you. It’s our blood.’ Something drew his attention off to their right and he looked there, cocking his head as though listening.

‘No,’ he said, after a moment. ‘No. That’s not right.’ He planted his hands over his ears. ‘I don’t want to listen to that.’

Tully’s heart was playing pinball in her chest. She grabbed her brother’s arm and twisted his hand from his ear. ‘We have to go now,’ she said. ‘Come on. It’s getting late, and I want to go home.’

He looked at her for a long moment as though he didn’t recognise her. Then, finally, he nodded, and she gasped in relief, got him moving again, practically pushing him down the path. The taxi stand was just ahead,
and she was waving at one before they even got there, not wanting to do anything to stop Toby’s forward momentum. She could see the driver scowling at her from his seat inside the car and she let herself glance at Toby. He still had one hand planted to his ear, and his mouth was working as though he were talking. He was silent though, just the scuffing of his shoes on the footpath as she pushed him toward the car.

She fumbled for a moment at the door handle, then it was open, and Toby was toppling forward into the back seat. She slid in next to him.

‘He’s not going to be sick, is he? Give me any trouble?’ the driver asked.

Tully shook his head. ‘No. H
e’s not going to be any trouble.’ She gave the address and leaned across her brother to buckle him in. He’d dropped his hand from his ear and leaned back against the seat, his hands bent again in front of him as though he cupped something close to his heart. His foot jerked every few seconds, as though he was having some sort of seizure. She wondered if perhaps she should take him to the hospital instead, and chewed on her lip, not knowing what to do. Panic flooded through her and she let go a sob. The driver’s eyes sought her out in the rear vision mirror.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked, and suddenly his eyes were much kinder. She shook her head.

‘I don’t know what’s wrong with him.’

‘Well, he’s had too much to drink, hasn’t he?’

‘No. That’s just it. He only had one drink.’

‘Well then, he’s taken something else. Are you sure he’s not going to be sick?’

She’d been wrong about his eyes being kinder. Shrinking away from him, she burrowed closer to her brother in the back seat.

‘I don’t think he’s that sort of sick,’ she said, and turned her face away. Toby jerked again in the seat, and she heard him whisper.

‘Dark, light, bright, sight,’ he said, then shook his head. ‘Not sight. Fight.’ He turned to her, and his eyes were wide in the dim taxi. ‘Tell him I don’t want to listen to him anymore.’

She squeezed his arm. ‘You don’t have to. We’ll be home in a moment, and you can get some sleep. Everything will be all right after some rest.’

Eyes unblinking, he stared at her, then, to her relief, he sat back, nodding. ‘Everything will be all right. Did I tell you I’m immortal? I thought about it for a long time, and the conclusion is inesss…inescapable. I can’t be killed.’ He flung out an arm, and connected with the back of the driver’s seat.

‘Hey! Control him, or I’ll let you out right here.’

Tully grabbed for Toby’s arm, caught hold of it, and pressed it back against him. Toby lifted his chin into the air.

‘I’m not listen
ing to you,’ he said. ‘Tully, you tell him. I’m not listening to him.’

The taxi driver sniffed. ‘Bloody stoners,’ he muttered and somehow, him saying that made Tully feel better. The rising tide of panic
receded a bit. That was the problem after all – Toby was just stoned. There must have been something bad about the weed he’d had today, or maybe he’d just been smoking too much of it. He’d always smoked a lot, both cigarettes and dope, and now his system was suffering an overload or something. He’d be all right after he slept it off, and tomorrow she’d tell him about the bizarre way he’d behaved, and tell him he had to throw the latest baggy of the stuff away. There was something wrong with it.

He was back
to muttering. Tully strained to hear, but now it made even less sense than before. At least before he was saying full words, even if he was just rhyming and talking a lot of nonsense. Now it was just sounds.

‘Ro,
mo, toe, so, ro.’

‘This the place?’ the driver asked, pulling off the road.

Tully looked up with relief. ‘Yes, thanks,’ she said.

‘Seventeen dollars exactly, and you better get that boyfriend of yours off the dope. They think it doesn’t have any effect, but it fries the circuits eventually, you mark my words.’

She dug around in her wallet for a twenty, passed it over. ‘He’s my brother,’ she said. ‘But I’m going to do what I can. He’s not normally like this.’

The driver passed her back her change. ‘Yeah, well, it catches up on them. Never know what they’re swallowing or smoking these days, even in this country. Get him clean, girl. He’ll thank you for it.’

Opening the door, Tully scooted out of the car and reached back inside to tug at Toby.

‘We’re home,’ she said. ‘We can get out now, okay? Okay, Toby? Time to get out.’

He stared blankly at her, and she chewed on her lip, trying to ignore the driver, swivelled around in his seat, watching her. ‘Toby! Get out of the car!’

That had some effect, at least. He blinked and scrabbled at his seat belt.

‘Damn.’ She’d forgotten to undo it for him. Kneeling on the seat, she felt for the buckle and unclasped it. ‘Okay, you can get out now.’

Toby nodded, as though she’d said somethin
g profound. ‘Okay, but if I do it, you will be all right. I don’t want you to worry.’

‘I won’t worry, Toby. Everything is going to be all
right. You’re not going to do whatever it is, anyway.’

He slid from the car at last, and she slammed the door, glad to be out from under the driver’s eyes. She saw the man give a salute, then the car was rolling back down the driveway, and she stood holding Toby up in the headlights.

There were lights on in the house, of course there were – it was still pretty early, still on the right side of midnight, but Tully didn’t want to take her brother inside. Their father would be furious, especially in front of Mary. He didn’t like any problems from them, nothing was supposed to intrude on his bliss with Mary and the baby. She tugged him forward to the garage instead.

It was a struggle getting Toby up the stairs. He staggered up them, leaning on her as though he’d had too much to drink, and she wanted to cry, not knowing what was wrong with him. She reached through the doorway to flip on the light in his room.

And stepped backwards, unable to help herself. ‘Toby! Why’s it so fucking bright in there? Good grief.’

Toby scuffed forw
ard into his room, collapsed onto his knees and crawled around switching more lights on. ‘Is good,’ he said. ‘No shadows.’

Tully inched cautiously into the room.
The light hanging from the ceiling must have been five thousand watts at least. She shaded her eyes and squinted. It was brighter in here than ever.

‘What’s it about, Toby?’ she said. ‘What’s with all the lights?’

He’d collapsed on his bed, lying there with his arms hooked up against his chest, and his legs making lazy bicycling motions. She looked down at him and gnawed on her lip, tasted blood on her tongue.

‘Is good,’ he said. ‘Can’t see him in here, cos there’s nowhere to hide.’

‘Can’t see who?’ The room was so bright, a mouse couldn’t have found anywhere to hide.

Toby sniffed. ‘
Was the spirit, of course,’ he slurred.

Tully crouched down beside the mattress and patted him. ‘But the spirit’s gone now. Remember? Delilah and Patty passed him over.’

Her brother blinked at her, eyelids lowering and lifting in slow motion. ‘Yes. Gone now, I know. Gone. And good riddance.’ He licked his lips. ‘I need a smoke.’

She shook her head. ‘No. No you don’t.’

Struggling to a sitting position, Toby patted his pockets. ‘Yes. Yes I do. I know these things. And I do.’ He pulled out his tobacco, and she was relieved at that, at least. She’d been ready to snatch away his weed, not let him have it. He’d had enough already, it had done something funny to him.

He dropped the wad of tobacco on the floor, and chased it around a moment, then looked up at her. ‘Roll me one, will you? And I’ll tell you a story.’

‘What sort of story?’

His mouth worked. ‘A sad one.’

‘I don’t like sad stories. Why don’t you tell me a happy one instead?’ She got the tobacco rolled in the cigarette paper and licked the glued edge, smoothed it down. He plucked it out of her fingers and wobbled back and forth on the mattress, going for his lighter. Surreptitiously, she snagged the pouch of tobacco and stuck it in her pocket. He wasn’t safe to leave on his own with a cigarette. She could just imagine him falling asleep with one, burning the whole garage down with himself in it. He would discover the hard way he wasn’t immortal. She shuddered at the thought and looked back at his face.

The cigarette in his mouth wavered in and out of the flame. He got it li
t, sucked in the smoke, then passed the cigarette to her. She took it, and sat there holding it while he lay back down on the mattress and squinted at the ceiling.

‘
It’s a very sad story,’ he said.

‘Who’s it about?’ She was tempted to take a puff of his cigarette, but she’d quit six months ago, didn’t want to start again.

‘Me,’ he said, and she sat up straighter.

‘There are no sad stories about you,’ she said, wondering if he was thinking about the death of their mother when they were babies.

But he was shaking his head, to and fro on the pillow. ‘Is very sad.’ His words were slurred. Turning to the side, he pointed a finger at the wall. ‘Don’t you say anything. Is my story too now.’ He sniffed, gathered in his hand to his chest and closed his eyes. A moment later, he was snoring.

Tully sat on her haunches next to him. He was waxy pale under the bright light, his beard a blond tangle on his chin.
Every now and then he twitched, but he was definitely asleep. She should have been relieved. Instead, she looked over at the wall he’d pointed to, and frowned.