Flee Page 3

  The urge to stop was overwhelming. At the same time, a draft of cool air stirred her brown shoulder-length hair, and lifted it gently from her face. Like a lover’s caress. Something she had not experienced for many years – not since...

  The movement was gone as quickly as it came, but the feeling of unease only increased. Frozen, rigid as a board, breath held she listened, and then slowly raised her head.

  She looked up.

  The cream walls were beautiful and so normal. There was nothing on the first balcony. Just marble pillars and old family portraits. She looked up further, slowly, and searched for the hidden assailant. Afraid of moving, afraid of staying still, her chest ached as she held onto her breath.

  There was nothing on the second floor, just more marble and oak doors. All looked quiet, all looked normal. Helen could walk out of one of those doors any minute now.

  A sob escaped her, and she released the air from her lungs.

  There, she glimpsed a shadow, a movement just in the corner of her eyes. Was he on the upper levels, thinking she would hide rather than run?

  She sighed. Triumph crept into her being and calmed her. Keep still, keep calm, and keep looking. If he did not spot her, she was home free. Taking a breath, she steadied herself, and kept looking up.

  Scanning the third level, the same cream walls and oak doors all looked normal. Then she spotted a shadow over the glass dome. Fear crept stealthily down her spine, a primeval fear. She did not believe things could get any worse. She looked up further and further, seeing the domed window, and then she screamed.

  Chapter Three

  Doris screamed. The sound rose into the dome above her, and echoed back down, almost crushing her into the marble floor. Suspended in that Dome was a creature from her worst nightmares. Shaped like an enormous bat, its bloated body was the size of a small deer. White, translucent, paper-thin skin allowed the skeleton to show through. She could see its bones compressing as it prepared to strike. Could see its heart beating and worm-like intestines squirmed and wriggled about inside the creature’s abdomen.

  Another scream ripped from her leaving her breathless and dizzy. With her mouth still open, and her head tilted back, all she could do was gape up at the horror. She knew she must move, knew she should be running for cover, but somehow her traitorous legs were routed to the spot.

  Not suspended, she realized. It had wings, and was hovering above her, like a malevolent force waiting to strike. It turned its head, watching her. She could not make out its eyes, but the gesture towards her was plain enough. It cast a shadow across the floor. A shadow, which drained the energy from her body. Heart pounding, skin tingling, though filled with adrenaline she froze. Though she knew she must run, must try to escape, she was unable to move.

  It turned its grotesque head from her to the balcony. Her eyes followed its gaze, and there he was, watching her. Though considered a friend to this household, she knew him as Numen. The name he used, that night so long ago.

  He had told her over dinner that it meant divinity, or local god, and she had laughed, not unkindly, it was more of a nervous laugh. The night had been fun, she was enjoying herself, and thought he teased her. Later, when he demonstrated what he meant she had not laughed.

  Doris felt his malevolence radiate towards her, and was unable to break eye contact even at this distance. All these years, she had been careful, ensuring she was never alone with him, but what now?

  The creature turned his head and looked to its master, eager to please. As it did, a small amount of drool dripped from its rodentian teeth, and fell. It dropped down, glistening in the light, and seemed to take forever to cover the three-floor descent. Eyes locked on, she was mesmerized as if a diamond was plummeting towards her. It seemed infinitely slow, a jewel riding the air as it passed each level. And then she heard the splash.

  The drool hit the floor, and then bounced upwards, before falling back to land on her pristine marble. As it landed, on her floor, her beautiful floor, marring it with its disgusting filth, the world restarted for her. Coming out of her trance she ran, racing across the room.

  Kicking her legs, she pushed herself forwards as fast as she could. Her feet slipped on the hard floor, and she scrambled to keep herself upright. Arms wheeling, that horrible sense of tumbling she held her feet, and headed for the door. Now she was moving she raced faster than she had ever run, knowing the creature would be coming for her.

  Each step was one closer to the door, but this was a big room and she was not even halfway. She felt, more than heard the rush of air as the beast swooped from above like an apparition from hell. Felt the breeze on her body, her hair lifted by its passing. It let out an inhuman shriek. Of wrath, or anticipation, she did not know.

  Feet slipping on the floor, she desperately lurched towards the door and escape. What should have taken mere seconds seemed to take forever. The pounding of her heart, the blood rushing in her ears made her head spin, and all the while she remembered that night.

  “No,” she screamed, forcing herself to keep her mind on the door. The creature had less distance to travel than her, but it had waited for instructions and Doris had a good head start. Would it be good enough?

  She darted left and right, feeling the air movement, caused by the hell bat swooping down to impale her. Its claws snatched at her shoulder, but missed as she darted left away from it. It tagged her blouse with one of its talons, sending needles of pain into her shoulder, but she ducked and ran on. Gasping for breath, she glanced back to see it hit the marble. The beast rolled over and over, like a puppet caught in the wind, before crashing with an angry shriek against the yellow wall.

  That sunny yellow looked a jaundiced cream through its body.

  Run Doris, just ignore it and run.

  The beast was up almost instantly and coming after her. She twisted and turned, on the slippery marble, hearing the whoosh of air and the shrieks of rage as the bat maneuvered to keep her in its sights.

  Clawed feet finally struck her shoulder, and she was thrown forward. Wheeling her arms to prevent herself from going down, a groan escaped her lips. She was surprised there was no pain, and regained her footing as quickly as a gymnast. The door was close, and she reached out, just as the claws reacquired her shoulder and scooped her off the floor.

  Kicking and screaming she was hauled upwards. It was a dizzying flight; her shoulders numb her feet now swinging uselessly. The more she struggled the more the talons tore into her skin, and now the pain was there. It pierced her soul as the creature flew effortlessly towards the balcony.

  They passed the first level. Doris swung out desperately with her legs hoping to hook them over the rail. The pain bit deeper as the bat’s talons curled inwards to prevent her from falling. This time it was Doris who shrieked. Rage, filled her with courage. She would not let this happen, he would not hurt her again, he would pay. Only, she was tiring, was losing hope. How could anyone escape a terror so powerful? Trying to struggle just increased her pain, and the claws felt so deep in her flesh she feared they would rip right through her, and she would plunge to her death.

  Was this the end? Had he finally come back to finish off the job he started so many years before?

  Doris let her limbs hang numbly down. Upwards, the animal carried her, cawing and shrieking its triumph, drowning out her own sobs of despair.

  At last it stopped. Doris was suspended in front of the Numen, her legs and arms dangled helplessly. Blood, was running from the wounds in her shoulders mixing in with the blood from Helen that already stained her once pristine blouse. Her head hung forwards, in pain and shock. Though she wanted to look down, she forced herself to look at him. She met his eyes, with as much courage and contempt as she could muster.

  “Why?” she spat. “Why did you do this?”

  A calm empty smile crossed his face, and caused a shudder to run down her back.

  “For power… and to prove who was the strongest, besides Jenny, is important to me and her father.�
� He laughed as if he knew some secret.

  The sound seemed to rattle her teeth, and set her nerves screaming. Jenny, damn it how can I help, Jenny? The thought cleared her head, and she knew she had to stay alive.

  “Her father would never have agreed to my wonderful plans for gorgeous little Jenny.” He placed a mocking emphasis on the word father.

  “You creep, you leave Jenny out of this, or I swear I will kill you”

  He smirked at her, and reached out a hand to caress her. Doris tried to pull back, but she was held there controlled by the puppet master who flapped its translucent wings to keep her close. Revulsion threatened to fill her throat with bile as his blood-soaked fingers stroked fondly across her cheek.

  “Funny little Doris, being so brave, who would have thought. But I would worry about what was going to happen to me if I was you.” He nodded at the creature. It raised its head, and flexing the huge papery wings sped upwards towards the dome.

  Doris screamed, as the glass roof came closer and closer. Were they to smash into it? She renewed her struggles, ignoring the pain, and knowing that to loosen the beasts grip would mean falling to her death. Weaving her legs, she tried to break free. Reaching up she even tried to beat the creature, but her arms were useless and wouldn’t obey simple commands.

  Up they rushed, upwards towards the dome, faster and faster. At impact, the roof exploded, glass falling past Doris to clatter and tinkle onto the marble below.

  Doris passed out, as the creature banked right, and turned away from the house.

  * * *

  The Numen surveyed the scene. “What a day.” He smiled, grinning with satisfaction. His most powerful opponents had been sacrificed to Aldona. The increase in his capability, still powered through him. It made every cell of his body aware of its power. At that moment he could have been a God. He could feel his blood coursing through his veins. Could feel the muscles of his body. He could even feel impending immortality. There were just a few more days to go until Saturday.

  Things had nearly gone wrong. He hadn’t intended to make his move this early, but Alex had gotten suspicious. Had smelt his desires, and besides killing his friend had been fun. All these years he had put up with the insufferable bore, killing is wrong, magic is for good only, people can be so evil -- blah blah bloody blah.

  In the end, the kill had been easier than he expected, his friend had been suspicious but still trusting. What a fool. Now all he needed to do was acquire Jenny and wait.

  Saturday, he would fulfill his destiny, and become immortal.

  Stood there, his head thrown back he could feel the molecules around him, and knew he could control some of them. The rush was amazing. With his eyes closed, and a huge grin on his face, he savored the moment, enjoyed his triumph until he heard a Dog bark in the distance. Opening his eyes, a furrow creased his brow, was the bark inside the house? Now What?

  Chapter Four

  Jenny turned the car off the twisty roads, and onto the gravel driveway to Raseby Manor. Situated deep in the Lincolnshire countryside, it was a beautiful house, surrounded by endless green fields, which rolled into the distance. It reminded her of patchworks quilts left out to air. The house nestled in a glorious kaleidoscope garden. Roses rambled against the walls, crimson, pink and bright yellow, all interspersed with foxgloves and hollyhocks in deep purples and magnificent blues.

  As the tires crunched their way across the golden stones, Jenny smiled at the wondrous garden, her mother’s pride and joy. She pulled the Volvo to a stop, its tires slipped momentarily in the gravel before settling in front of the gargantuan house.

  She turned in her seat, and smiled at Rosie.

  “Come on pooch,” she said and climbed out of the car. Rosie leaped into the front and out of the door, landing nimbly on her front paws before racing up to the house. She was a streak of muscle covered in a brindle fur of reds, and browns like autumn leaves in all their glory.

  Jenny always felt at home when she came here, with the old walls, solid and secure, and good memories of a time when life was simpler.

  She closed the car door. The solid clunk seemed to issue a warning as she turned towards the house. Something was wrong. A feeling of dread almost had her turning back, she was no longer sure this was a good idea.

  Running her hands through her shoulder length blonde hair she pushed it back behind her ears. Her hands felt sticky. She wiped them down her T-shirt, straitening the material over her black jeans. Mom always told her she should dress more feminine, but black jeans and a top were so comfy.

  “Well, I’ll just have to do,” she said to herself, putting on a smile as she headed towards the house. Her trainers crunched as they sank into the gravel, and she noticed all the lights were on. That was unusual; her parents were very energy conscious, only lighting the rooms they were using. Maybe they were having a party, she thought, and hoped not. Some of their friends were a little out there.

  That brought her mind back to Simon, and she could almost see him, tall, arrogant and very British. For a young man, he dressed conservatively, formal trousers and shirt, sometimes even a tie. It seemed strange for someone involved in magic to be so old fashioned. She sighed. A sound like the wind rattling dry branches seemed to escape with her breath.

  Something had not been right recently. She knew Simon had fought with her dad, and that he had a secret or two. Something he didn’t want even her to know. Was this why her parents wanted her to learn some spells? Were they frightened of Simon? Though nothing had been said she knew there was an atmosphere the last time she had seen him. Did they fear him? It seemed silly and yet it would give her an answer for why they were so desperate for her to come to the magic.

  Well, it didn’t matter, because she had decided to agree. With the decision made, a weight seemed to leave her, and a smile came unbidden to her face.

  Reaching the house, she found Rosie waiting patiently. Her big brown eyes adoringly fixed on the door, waiting for the hugs she knew would come. Jenny stroked the brindle head of the huge boxer. The dog had been her rock since a messy divorce.

  At the touch of the hand, Rosie looked around at her mistress. Her wrinkled face was dark brown with a white patch between big, expressive eyes. Her cold black nose eagerly pushed into Jenny’s waiting hands. While, her solid, muscular body shook with anticipation. Called a tiger striped brindle, her coat was alternating shades of brown and red hair, the red as deep as a fox’s fur, the brown the color of walnuts. Jenny loved her coat accentuated by four white socks and a white chest, which were the only parts you could see in the dark. Gentle, loving and a great guard dog, woe betide the man who got in Rosie’s way.

  Right now, her brown eyes searched Jenny’s face. She knew her mistress was worried, and she whined gently, offering support. Jenny stroked the soft ears, and ran her fingers down the white hair between her eyes, and scratched the spot just above her snub boxer nose. Rosie grunted with pleasure before scratching at the dark green door, and demanding entrance.

  Knocking, they walked in. Rosie pushed past before the door was half open, and trotted through. The smell of lilies wafted out as Jenny entered the hallway, but there was something else. A metallic smell, one of dad’s spells perhaps? The house was as quiet as a monastery. Jenny closed the door.

  Rosie had stopped in the corridor, her body tense. The dog was suddenly on high alert. A low rumble of thunder, uttered from deep within her throat, all the more threatening for being so quiet.

  “What is it girl?” Jenny asked feeling a touch of unease spike her stomach.

  Ignoring the feeling, she walked past the dog, stroking her silken head as she passed into the kitchen. That smell again, coppery and bitter, it made her feel light headed. Rosie overtook her and then stopped. Her hackles raised, and a low growl emanating from her muzzle.

  “Come on girl, you’re scaring me,” Jenny said as she walked deeper into the kitchen.

  She jumped backward reflexively, drawing in a shocked breath as she noticed
dirty footprints on the floor. Was it dirt? They were a reddish brown, and she felt dread slice through her stomach with an ice-cold knife. Her breath stopped, and a lump formed in her throat. Though she wanted to turn she was drawn onwards, and unable to stop. Taking small anxious steps, and walked robotically, deeper into the room.

  There was so much blood, for deep inside she knew that was what it was. Trails headed off into the hallway behind her, and the house was as quiet as a crypt. What was going on?

  As she breached the breakfast bar, she spotted her mum on the floor, surrounded by all that blood. Goosebumps rose on her arms, and a spider of fear ran down her spine. Rosie stood solid, tense, she also felt danger.

  Her mum was, a porcelain island floating on a crimson sea, so peaceful - yet so dead. Jenny dashed forwards, through that sea of blood, and bent to search for a pulse. A sob escaped her. She knew in her heart; her mum was dead. Dead, how can she be dead? We only spoke on the phone yesterday.

  Dropping to her knees, she knelt forward. Her black leggings sank into the warm sticky pool surrounding the body. She reached out, grabbed the pale wrist, and searched for a pulse. The wrist was cool, clammy. She kept running her fingers over her mum’s veins, desperate to feel the spark of life. She studied her mum's face. Her lifeless eyes were glassy, they stated death emphatically.

  Jenny saw an indentation in her mum’s head that was matted with blood. This was what killed her, she knew. Her hand flew to her mouth, a cry escaping her, and gorge rose in her throat. Tears pooled in eyes that till recently had matched her mothers, and she fought hard to keep this evening’s chili in her stomach where it belonged.

  “Oh God, mum, no,” she mumbled, leaning forward, hugging the limp and pliable figure. Her arms embraced the cold, lifeless body. Her head rested on her mum’s cheek. Hot salty tears fell from her eyes, onto her mother’s pale face. She laid there hugging her, squeezing, offering comfort as tears coursed down her face.