Wings of Sorrow (A horror fantasy novel) (9 page)

“Come on, I’m parked just down the road.”

They followed Chester away from the shop and off the high street to a nearby side street named, Shawsux Avenue. Parked along it was a single vehicle. Night had not yet fallen, but the sky had turned grey, and the sun was nowhere to be seen, which made the light-blue of Chester’s car seem darker at first, gradually lightening as they approached.

Scarlet pulled a face. “You drive a Volkswagen Beetle?”

Chester squared his shoulders and lifted his chin. “It’s a classic.”

“Like you, you mean?”

“I like my cars to have personality, not like the mass-produced rubbish that people drive today.”

Sorrow tilted his head and prodded the rounded bonnet with a finger. “It is a motorcar, yes?”

Scarlet chuckled. “It’s thirty years old.”

“Does it drive?”

“Of course it does,” snapped Chester.

“Then I do not see a problem. We should embark.”

Chester wore a smug grin as he looked at Scarlet. “See, your pet-demon has no issues with it.”

“I am no pet.”

Scarlet grinned and took a hold of Sorrow’s arm. “Come on, let’s
embark.
”

They opened the doors and climbed inside. Chester suggested that Sorrow sit in the back with Scarlet, so that they could both stoop down if they caught sight of The Saint. The thought of seeing that monster again made her skin crawl, and made her understand how much she wanted to live. If there was an alternative way to deal with things, then she at least had to try. Why should she have to suffer because of dickheads messing with her destiny?

Dickheads like my mother.

It made her wonder if her dad knew anything about her mother being a witch. How could he not know? They had not married, granted, but they had a baby together then stayed together for another six years.

But her mother was a person of whom she lacked a single memory. Her dad never spoke about her, and kept no photographs. Nesta Fitzgerald was a fairytale.
The mother who never was.

Scarlet decided that the last thing she wanted to do right now was think, so she cleared her mind and stared out the car window. She lived near to the centre of town, so within five minutes they were only a few roads away from her street.

“Next right,” she shouted up front to Chester.

“Yes, I think I know it. Looks like it’s all clear. The Saint must still be focused on breaking the spell I cast on him. He can’t approach us until it-”

Crunch!

Scarlet jolted in her seat and saw the road tilt through her window. The car tipped up on two wheels and then came back down again with an almighty rattle.

She let out a scream, but Chester could only shout, “Bugger it!”

There was the screeching of tyres and the car came to a stop. Sorrow leapt across Scarlet, shielding her. From beneath his arms, but she could hear his heart beating—rapid-fire, like the baseline to a dance tune.

“Mr Chester, what is happening?” Sorrow demanded.

Chester’s voice quivered as he spoke. “I think… I think the axle broke. Something flew out into the road, but I don’t know what it was. We’re okay. I’ll get out and take a look. Keep Scarlet out of sight.”

Sorrow bore down on her and shoved her into the footwell. “It is done.”

“Ease up, Sorrow,” she moaned. “I’m not a bloody rabbit.”

Chester opened up the driver-side door and stepped out into the night.

Unbearably cramped, Scarlet managed to shove Sorrow away slightly and lay herself sideways across the rear seat, her shoes pressed up against one door, head the other. “Sorrow, ease up. I’m suffocating down here.”

He eased off her a little more, but did so cautiously, looking out all the windows like a meerkat sentry. “I don’t like this.”

“It’s fine,” she said. “I can walk the rest of the way. Chester will just have to call the AA.”

“Then we must go immediately. We are vulnerable here.”

“Fine.” Scarlet sighed and pushed open the door. The road she stepped out onto was residential, and some of the lights of nearby houses had come on. It was a nice street with semis and detached properties, so the neighbours were not the kind of folks to appreciate noise.

Chester was standing by the car’s bonnet, hands on his hips and shaking his head. When Scarlet walked around to join him, she saw that the front-left wheel was pointing inwards at a wrong angle.

“I’ll have to call someone,” he said.

“Yeah, for sure. What did we hit?”

He shook his head. “I have no idea.”

“I think that your automobile hit this.” Sorrow said as he stood next to the rear of the car. Quickly bending over, as if his earlier injuries had never happened, he hoisted something up off the ground. It was a thick slab of concrete. “

“It’s a paving stone,” Scarlet said. “You said it flew in front of the car, Chester?”

Chester began looking around, fretting. “Yes. It rolled right out in front of me, but it’s too heavy for any ordinary man to have tossed into the road.”

Sorrow snarled. “The Saint.”

Chester threw out his arms. “For God’s sake, Scarlet, run!”

Scarlet took off down the road, but The Saint was waiting for her. He stalked towards her slowly, one measured step after another. Trying to change direction quickly led to her twisting her ankle. She fell down.

Chester moved in front of her. “Begone. I have banished you.”

The Saint grabbed Chester by his thinning, grey hair and yanked him off his feet then tossed him to the curb. The crack of his skull hitting the wedge of concrete turned Scarlet’s stomach.

The Saint stared down at her, just two feet away. This time there was no compassion in his eyes, or mercy of any kind. “You should have given yourself willingly. Now you are implicit and will die with a dirty soul. It will be mine to keep.”

Scarlet started shuffling backwards, but she was already within her enemy’s reach. He grabbed for her, fingers spread and ready to encase her neck, but Sorrow leapt over her head and landed on top of him. With both hands he battered The Saint’s face and head, sending him reeling backwards on his heels. The size difference became obvious. Sorrow seemed like a tantruming child next to his larger adversary.

The Saint recovered and swung out an arm. Sorrow was able to duck in time, and from his low position, used his head and shoulders to flip The Saint over. The large man landed against the bonnet of Chester’s Volkswagen and knocked off the bumper. While he tried to right himself, Sorrow rushed over to where the slab of concrete that had snapped their axle still lay on the road. He picked it up with ease and brought it down on The Saint’s head just as the larger man was rising to his feet. Blood exploded from beneath his blond hair, and he went flopping back onto his face. He wasn’t entirely out for the count, but for now, at least, the fight had been taken out of him.

Sorrow yanked Scarlet to her feet. “We need to leave.”

“Okay. Grab Chester.”

“We don’t have time.”

“Yes, we do. Grab him!”

Sorrow grunted, but hurried over to the side of the road where Chester was lying and hoisted him over his shoulder like a bag of spuds. Together, the three of them fled the scene as quickly as they were able. More lights in the street had switched on, and it would likely be a very short time before the police arrived. Part of Scarlet welcomed them, but she was scared that they’d end up locking her up for being crazy. Chester would probably deny everything if pressed, and Sorrow would go straight to the loony bin alongside her.

“Your home,” said Sorrow. “Which way?”

Scarlet pointed. “It’s near.”

She glanced back over her shoulder looking for The Saint, but the sky had turned charcoal and shadows had descended. She saw nothing but houses on each side of the road.

“This way,” she shouted. “My house is just down here.”

Sorrow overtook her even though he was carrying Chester on his shoulders, but when he realised she was lagging behind, he slowed down and allowed her to catch up.

“Put me down.”

Scarlet and Sorrow stopped when they realised that Chester was conscious again. Sorrow set him down on wobbly feet. Scarlet hissed when she saw the thick lump above his right eyebrow. “Are you okay?”

Chester rubbed his head. “I’ll live… I think. You need to take this.” He pulled a coil of rope and handed it to her. It was tacky in her hand and smelt coppery. “Hessian soaked in human blood,” he explained. “Reach your house and it will keep The Saint out. Stay home and don’t leave.”

“I will stay with you,” Sorrow told her.

Chester shook his head. “The charm will keep you out too, Sorrow. You’re not of this earth. You must keep watch close by.”

“It will be done.”

“Then get going. Get inside and stay there, Scarlet. I will contact you in the morning.”

Scarlet frowned. “But where are
you
going? You’re hurt.”

“I need to contact the White Order. We can’t afford to wait for my colleagues to get here, so I will ask for their help now. They might be able to perform a spell to help us.”

Sorrow pointed down the road. “He is coming.”

Scarlet saw a grey, hulking shape marching towards them. “How is he on his feet? You smashed him in the head with a concrete slab!”

“He cannot be killed,” said Chester.

“What? Then what chance do we have?”

“Our only chance is to banish him back to whence he came, but you need to stay safe until then. Go!”

Sorrow grabbed Scarlet and started running. It felt wrong leaving Chester behind, but he wasted no time in fleeing. He headed into an alleyway between two houses and was gone in seconds—pretty fast for an ageing shopkeeper.

They reached her house around the next bend.

“Scarlet, what the Hell!”

Her dad was standing on the doorstep, waiting for her. “I’ve been calling you for the last hour. I was just about to come look for you. Where have you been? It’s almost nine o’ clock. Who’s this?”

“I am Sorrow.”

Her dad pulled a face, and then looked at Scarlet angrily. “Get in the house. You better have a good excuse for why you’re out at this time without letting me know.”

She nodded. “Fine. Let’s go inside.”

“You first. I want to speak with your friend here.”

“Dad!”

Her dad went to Sorrow, who was at least two inches taller. “I don’t know what you’ve been getting my daughter into, but she’s just a child—too young for a grown man like you. Whoever you are, my daughter is off limits. Understand?”

“I do not understand. I am sorry.”

Scarlet’s dad grew red in the face. “Excuse me? If you want to make this difficult, then we can do that. Stay away from my daughter, okay? You bring her back at this time; keep her from calling me… I should call the police. She’s sixteen!”

“Dad!”

“Inside!”

Sorrow was confused. “I am sorry that I have offended you, sir. I seek only to keep Scarlet safe.”

“That’s
my
job.
You
leave.”

Sorrow glanced at Scarlet. Scarlet nodded.

“As you wish.” He turned and headed down the road. Scarlet hoped he didn’t run into The Saint.

Her dad followed her inside the house and slammed the front door shut and locked it. Scarlet felt the coil of bloody rope in her pocket and hoped it was as magical as Chester said it was.

“Who the hell was that man, Scarlet?”

“He’s just a friend.”

“He’s a bloody weirdo. Who calls themselves Sorrow?”

“Yes, he’s a little weird, but he’s harmless, and he’s my friend.”

“Is he your boyfriend?”

She blushed. “What? No. I just met him. He’s just a friend.”

“Where have you been all evening? You should have called. I rang your phone a dozen times.”

“I know, I’m sorry. I lost my phone, but I’ve only been at the shop.”

“I’ve been calling the shop for the last twenty minutes and no one answered.”

“That’s because we’d left by then. Mr Chester gave me a lift.”

He put his hands on his hips. “You’re lying to me, Scarlet. I saw you walk down the road. Nobody drove you.”

“We had a crash.”

“Stop it! Stop insulting my intelligence. What is going on with you? You’ve always been hard work, but lately…”

Scarlet’s hands clenched into fists. “Hard work? Thanks! That’s just what every daughter wants to hear. You bring me here, where I don’t know anybody—I hardly even see you—and you call
me
hard work? Well, try being me, and you tell me what’s hard.”

Her dad slumped down in the living room armchair. He let out a sigh. “I’m doing my best, Scarlet. It’s just been me looking after everything for so long. What am I supposed to do to keep you on the rails?”

“What happened to mum?” She asked the question before she even knew it was in her head.