Silk Over Razor Blades (2 page)

Lenina groaned, reactivated her
music and turned off the path, on to the grass.

A line of trees surrounded the
park and a gap directly opposite marked her destination. It led
through a narrow alley and back on to the main road on the far side
of the housing estate.

Her feet squelched on the damp
grass. Twice, she narrowly avoided tripping on raised lumps and
disguised holes forming the entrances to rabbit warrens. To guide
the way, she followed the white paint marking the edges of the
three football pitches, lined up side by side.

Halfway across she shivered,
aware of the growing chill in the air. She paused the music and
listened to the crushing silence of the park. Even the sound of
passing cars couldn’t reach this far.

A glance over her shoulder
confirmed there was little point in backtracking, so she ducked her
head, resumed her run, and fixed her gaze on the line of trees.

An especially savage gust
whipped hair round into her eyes, temporarily blinding her. With
the wind came a voice, low and soft. A whisper she felt more than
heard.

Her shoulders tightened.
Prickling, like the legs of invisible insects, crawling over her
skin.

She reached the line of trees
still staring over her shoulder, then slipped on a slick of brown
leaf mulch. Skidding on her stomach, she came to a stop on the
gnarled protrusions of a nearby tree root. The rough bark scraped
her palms. Her phone sailed away through the darkness.

Panting, Lenina flipped on to
her back.

‘Hello?’ Her voice
quivered.

More whispering. This time
mixed with laughter. She peered into the gloomy gaps between the
trees. Swallowed hard. Held her breath.
There’s nothing
there
, she thought,
just the wind.
Cold moisture seeped
through her joggers as she reached her knees.

‘Damn it.’ Lenina brushed the
worst of it away and wiped her hands on her thighs.

‘Don’t fuss on my account,
love. The baggy workout gear is gorgeous and so are you.’ The low
voice, with an East London drawl, spoke from the shadows. As it
did, the whispering stopped.

Lenina scrambled to her feet,
one hand fisted in her sports vest. ‘Who’s there?’

The tubby ginger tramp stepped
out from behind a tree a couple of metres away. His hands curled
around the trunk, filthy fingernails scraping the bark. He grinned,
showing off crooked teeth.

‘Bob?’ She backed away.
‘Homeless Bob from the High Street? The one who likes
pastries?’

‘My name ain’t Bob.’ His voice
prickled down her spine like dabbling fingers.

Though her mouth opened no
words came out. A quick shake of the head and another step back,
wobbling on the uneven earth.

‘Don’t you talk?’ He followed,
hands sliding teasingly over the tree’s trunk. One of them held a
dagger with a savage looking blade, sharp with a double curved
edge.

‘Yes.’ She swallowed and tried
again. ‘Of course I do. And . . . my boyfriend’s coming.’ She added
that last part with a haughty toss of her head. ‘He’ll be here any
second.’

He laughed, a sound like
grinding metal. ‘Good. I’m counting on it.’

Lenina pressed her shaking
hands to her sides and glanced over her shoulder. The line of
lights marking the path seemed a million miles away. Brighter lamps
from the road beyond the tree line may well have been on the other
side of the earth for the comfort they gave.

‘You’ll make a good starter.’
The stranger smiled.

‘Don’t touch me. I’ll
scream.’

He glanced left and right.
Broadened his smile. A trick of the light made his teeth long and
sharp. ‘Go ahead.’

Lenina ran. Her feet pounded
the wet earth, each stride made awkward by damp, slippery grass.
Her breath stuck in her throat, choking until she let it go in a
rasping gasp. Muscles across her stomach and chest tightened. Her
lungs ached.

Halfway back across the grass,
she risked looking back.

A whimper broke free.

‘Where . . . ?’ Her stride
slowed. Gaze darted left and right.

The park was empty. She faced
forward and released a shriek when she saw the grubby stranger
directly in front of her. Helpless to stop, she bounced off his
chest, stumbled back, and hit the ground on her backside. More damp
seeped through her clothes.

‘Please don’t hurt me!’

The man reached down, his
chipped fingernails catching on her hair. He stroked her face with
the flat of his dagger. The sharp point scratched her skin hard
enough to break it. She felt its bite and bit her lip to keep from
screaming. The smell of cigarettes, vodka and something older,
meatier, assaulted her nostrils. She gagged.

It seemed a year and more since
speaking to Nick, belittling his orders to stick to the path. It
couldn’t have been more than five minutes.

Please
, she thought,
please come.

The stranger knelt in the
grass, tilting the edge of his weapon beneath her chin. With the
other hand he gripped her face. ‘Look at me,’ he whispered. When
she hesitated, he tilted her face to meet his. ‘I said,
look
.’

The order beat Lenina’s common
sense like a ram. Her resistance splintered beneath it.

First she saw his lips. Thin.
Pale. Surrounded by the shadow of short, coarse hairs. Nose:
bulbous and red. A set of scars on his right cheek; four thin
slashes like cat claws. Then, as the moon slipped from a scudding
bank of cloud, she saw his eyes clearly for the first time . . .
and gasped. Grey, like stormy seas. Or smoky diamonds. Gorgeous
eyes framed by long, thick lashes which brushed his cheeks like
delicate strands of lace. The man was beautiful and in that moment
she wanted nothing more than to slide her arms around his neck and
offer him everything.

A wriggle of warmth pulsed
through Lenina’s belly as the stranger turned his smile on her.
Warm and welcoming, it promised all manner of pleasures if only she
would move closer. The band of fear around her chest loosened. She
lowered her arms to her sides.

‘That’s right,’ he murmured.
‘Look at me.’

A straggle of ginger hair fell
over his shoulder, not curly like Ramona’s, just untidy.

She touched it. ‘So soft.’

The man smiled. ‘Come.’

Lenina leaned in, closing her
eyes as the distance between them narrowed. She felt the hot rush
of his breath slide over her forehead, tickle her nose, caress her
jaw. Lower . . . to the side of her throat. She smiled. All fear
gone.

Nick’s voice pealed out of the
dark. ‘Get off her!’

Lenina hit the floor. She
hadn’t realised the stranger had her cradled to his chest until he
let go.

Pressure built behind her eyes
and made her head throb. Clutching the ache, she rolled over and
saw Nick standing at the edge of the tree line, his mobile held out
like a torch.

It lit the scene between them
like a macabre shadow puppet show and she saw again the man to whom
she so wanted to give herself.

Grey eyes, yes, but not the
colour of diamonds. More like muddy snow. Thin lips surrounded by
ugly salt-and-pepper stubble and four deep gouges in his cheek.

She heaved.

Nick lowered a trembling hand
towards her but the hideous stranger slid between them with the
grace of a figure skater.

‘You must be the lucky
boyfriend.’ The man grinned. ‘You took your sweet time.’

Nick stepped to the right,
where his path was blocked yet again. ‘Move!’

The stranger’s feral smile
flashed those yellow teeth again. ‘Right looker, ain’t you?’ His
voice resembled the brush of velvet, mixed oddly with that strong
aura of East London. ‘I like blonds.’

Lenina’s stomach writhed. She
swallowed the rising taste of bile and tried to stand, but her
knees refused to hold her. ‘Nick . . . ?’

‘I’m here, babe.’ Again he
tried to reach her.

Once more the stranger blocked
him, this time laying a hand on his shoulder.

Nick smacked it away. ‘What the
hell’s wrong with you? I’ve called the police.’

‘Liar.’ The low voice held smug
confidence.

‘How would you know?’

‘I know you . . . Nicholas
Harrison.’

Nick flinched. ‘How do you know
my name?’

A mocking smile in answer.

‘Have we met?’

The man shrugged. It meant
everything and nothing.

Hands shaking, Nick put his
mobile away. Never once taking his eyes off the stranger and his
weapon, he extended his hand. ‘Nina?’

When the man advanced again,
Nick spun about and shoved him in the chest. He might as well have
pushed a brick wall.

The stranger cocked his head to
the side, tangling grubby fingers in his knotty ginger hair. ‘That
was rude.’

‘Yeah? Get the fuck out of my
way. How’s that for rude?’

The man snarled. There was no
other word for it.

Then Nick screamed.

Lenina blinked – she must have
– because when she next looked, Nick lay prone, the man on top of
him, both hands circling his throat. The dagger lay forgotten on
the ground.

Nick struck out with his fist
but the blow swung wide and caught nothing but air.

Braying laughter, loud and
gravelly, filled the night air.

The sound shivered all the way
through Lenina’s body and left her trembling.

Nick strained to bring his legs
up and lever the clawing stranger away from his face. Lenina
watched him flail and urged her leaden limbs to move.

‘Run, Nina!’ he cried. ‘Run
away.’

She hugged herself. Shook her
head. Fought to block out the screams ringing in her ears. Her
aching throat and rasping breath made clear who the screams
belonged to.

She peered through her
fingers.

Nick’s arms flailed. His back
arched off the ground. Gold hair fanned across the dirt, a pale
splash in the darkness.

Lenina scrambled to her feet
and rushed at the shabby stranger. ‘You’re hurting him. Please, let
go.’

The man ignored her, leaning
over Nick’s face and shoulders. He gave a low moan and opened his
mouth.

‘Get off him.’ She grabbed his
face from behind and dug in. Her sharp, polished fingernails found
the soft orbs of his eyes.

The stranger reared up with a
shriek. Lenina realised she was airborne a split second before her
back hit the tree. Stars of purple and gold danced before her
closed eyelids and cold numbness crawled down her back and
shoulder. She bounced and hit the ground on her face. Grass tickled
her nose, its fresh scent a stark contrast to the festering reek of
the man above her. He flipped her over and straddled her hips.
Blood trickled down his cheeks.

‘You first, love,’ he snarled.
‘Then him.’ He bent close, wrenched her head to one side and
fastened his lips to the side of her throat.

An instant later his teeth sank
in. White hot. Piercing. Burning. Different descriptions whirled
through Lenina’s mind but none matched what she felt. The teeth
tore through her skin with a wet, meaty crunch. An eager tongue
swirled over her earlobe, then hot drool dribbled over her skin,
mixed with something smoother and thicker.

The world dipped in and out of
focus. Low buzzing filled her ears. Time stood still, one eternal
moment stretched out into forever. Then sound came rushing back;
the greedy gulp of a parched man slurping water on the banks of
earth’s last oasis. Feral grunting. Moans of pleasure.

Lenina whimpered and pushed at
the stranger’s chest.

He responded by tightening his
thighs on her hips. His body pressed flush to hers. Both hands
tangled in her hair and pinned her in place. Without lifting his
face, he rolled his hips, pressing an unmistakable bulge against
her hip. The sensation sent fresh tears rolling down her
cheeks.

Familiar images danced before
her mind’s eye. She saw her father, gaping at the second adjustment
to the wedding quote; her brother glaring at a suit hanging in the
bridal boutique, shaking his head; her mother fingering the
delicate lace of a traditional ivory wedding dress while sneaking
covert glances at tiny christening robes.

Fresh moans from the stranger
broke the procession of memories. He pressed his erection harder
against her body and mumbled. Lenina thought she heard the word
‘tribute’, but the rest drowned beneath the sounds of her
pain-wracked sobs. The coppery scent of blood overpowered every
other, even the stranger’s mouldy meat smell. It slid down her neck
and pooled in the hollow of skin between her neck and shoulder.
More gathered in the curve of her ear. The scratchy wool of his hat
grazed her chin. She saw a beetle crawling across it, shiny
carapace glinting in the moonlight. It paused then crawled back the
other way, ambling away from the scene of agony with an ease Lenina
envied.

She blinked. When her eyes next
opened she saw clouds over the moon again and knew, in a distant
way, that time had escaped her. Her hands stopped shoving. She
lowered them to the grass.

A fresh image filled her mind.
Nick dropping his shopping bags to kneel in the middle of the High
Street. He ignored her embarrassed protests and held up a purple
jewellery box, teasing it open while watching her face. The ring
inside glittered in the watery sunlight, the diamond at its apex
gleaming with star-like brilliance.

‘Marry me,’ he said.

No more than an arm’s length
away, the present-day Nick sprawled on his back, eyes closed,
breathing shallow.

‘Nick, help me.’

He moaned and clutched his
head. His hands shook.

‘Please.’

The man sucking her throat
laughed through his pursed lips. Renewed ferocity made Lenina
shriek and grind her heels into the grass.

He jabbed his free hand between
her lips. ‘Shut up.’