Starblood (The Starblood Trilogy) (11 page)

Thinking back to what led to her decision to leave him, she concentrates on his negative points. The way he frightened her when he got angry, which was often near the end. He had never actually hit her, but sometimes a shadow would come over him and she would see a vicious darkness in his eyes, a powerful hatred which would make her run from him.

There were other things too. Not frightening things like his anger, but annoying things which, when added together, made his company intolerable. Like the way he sometimes wouldn’t care about his appearance at all, meeting her at the club with un-brushed and filthy hair, wearing an unwashed t-shirt and broken trainers. Or the way he could spend hours getting ready on other nights, painting liquid eyeliner around his eyes with painful delicacy, while she waited in his room. How he might leave her side suddenly, to talk to a friend, and not return for the entire evening, and the way he would drink too much then sob into her hair declaring his undying love or complaining that his life wasn’t worth living. Raven loves him of course, but her other friends congratulated her on leaving him, they agree - he is crazy, impossible, not worth the trouble. The ache between her legs subsides.

Even so, this litany of mistakes and oversights doesn’t explain how she feels.
Why am I so afraid of you?
Staring at the coffee, she feels her mind fall into its dark depths—a priest, a bible, her mother weeping. Her mind recoils. ‘What the fuck?’

People whisper their agitation – ‘terrible,’ ‘no respect,’ ‘what language.’ Trying to ignore the other customers, Sarah traces the lip of her coffee cup with her index finger. Should she try it again?
No,
she closes her eyes.
No!
Ignoring the urge to stare at the black liquid, she sips her coffee. Yes, she did the right thing leaving him.

Her thoughts betray her.
In spite of everything, he could be amazing. The most intelligent man I have ever met. Steve can talk about almost anything and sound like an expert. He is beautiful and the way he makes me feel when he’s close, it’s like the hum of electricity awakening every nerve ending in my body. His taste in clothing is sublime, Satori and his sartorial elegance,
she smiles at the thought. She does miss him, but she doesn’t want him back. When she’s with him she fades into the background.
It is never us, it’s always Him
. She cannot put herself through all that again. If he is in trouble she wants to help him, then say goodbye.

People are staring at her again. She realises she is crying. Brushing away her tears, she stands up, leaving her coffee and heads for the door.

‘Excuse me Miss,’ an insistent voice behind her calls.

She looks around at the waitress. Realising she hasn’t paid for the coffee, she sighs and digs into her bag.

‘Sorry,’ she mutters as she hands over the coins.

The waitress looks at her tight-lipped. Sarah blushes and hurries away.

Outside she looks at her watch. It is only four o’clock. With no idea what time Marian leaves work but no other place to go, she decides to wait in Steve’s front garden.

The house looks empty when she arrives, but she rings the doorbell anyway. There is no answer. She sinks onto the step. It is too cold to sit so she squats instead. Her long black skirt opens into a circle around her legs, and she looks as though she is stuck in a puddle of tar. Startled by the shrill ringing of her mobile phone, she fishes through her bag for it and puts it to her ear without checking the caller ID.

‘Hi, Star,’ Steve’s voice calls through the speaker.

Her sense of relief is so intense that she loses her balance and has to put her arm out to stop herself falling over. The phone hits the step with a clunk and for a terrible moment she worries it might be broken. Cursing she fumbles to retrieve it.

‘…that?’

What did Steve say?
‘I’m sorry, I dropped the phone. How are you?’

‘Fine, sorry I haven’t phoned before. My battery died. Did you worry?’

‘A little maybe. Where are you?’ she breathes into the phone. The signal sounds so clear he could be next to her.

‘On my way back from Gloucester. Just needed a few things. Paul lent me the most useful books so I’m going back home. I won’t be back until late though. Why don’t you come round tomorrow…unless you’re busy?’

His question at the end of his soliloquy takes her by surprise and she has to think for a moment before answering.

‘Okay, what time?’

‘Um, ten? Does that sound good?’ he asks.

Does it
? she wonders. The relief of hearing him alive and well is replaced by a fear of getting close to him again, but she did promise to help him and it would seem weird to say no now.

‘Ten, yeah, cool. I’ll see you then,’ she says, as much to herself as to him.

Chapter 17

Satori hides. He watches Star as he speaks to her. He almost blew everything a few minutes ago, jaunting around that corner, unthinking. Luckily her face was turned away from him and he had time to see her and retreat. If she sees him now, in the same clothes Paul wore when he answered the door to her, she will probably ask questions.

‘Um, ten? Does that sound good?’ he asks her.

The mobile signal is so clear and crisp she must have heard the question. Her answer seems to take forever.
Does she have plans already?

At last her reply: it’s yes. She will come back tomorrow. He disconnects and smiles. She is getting up now, so he hurries back to the next street for a better hiding place.
If she’s going home she won’t come this way.

Huddled behind a garden wall in the next street, he waits for over ten minutes. He is too close to success to risk ruining things now. She might have stopped to phone someone else and still be standing there in his garden, or a neighbour might have caught her to discover the latest gossip. Eventually he creeps back to his own street and finds she has gone.

Inside the house, Satori pours himself a large whisky. He doesn’t want to think about anything, but memories and emotions from the last twenty-four hours battle inside his mind: grief, fear, repulsion, guilt, lust, amazement and joy. The moment he feels ready to tackle one the others push past it, jostling for his attention.

The alcohol slows his mind. He pours another and lets the memories resurface. The first to come is Paul’s corpse. Automatically, his mind fights against the image.
Let it come
, Satori tells his consciousness.
I have to face it
. It does come. The image jars. So much red, darker than claret, the colour of an aged ruby port but thick and sticky, it congeals in smears across Paul’s stomach and thighs while above the wounds it remains wet. Satori’s face is reflected in the vicious hole between his friend’s legs.
It should have been me.
This will never end. On the edge of Satori’s perception he hears Lilith’s laugh, harsh and sharp like a bark.

Satori’s mind gives him a needle and thread. He removes the slippery organs from Paul’s throat and places them where they belong. Then with stitches, small and precise, he sews flesh back onto flesh and makes the man whole again. A bucket and sponge appear beside him. Satori wets the sponge and washes away the blood. He moves it across Paul’s body gently, as if afraid to wake him. His work finished, he stands next to the body. Paul’s white skin and hair gleam in the half-light. Red wings of blood spread out from beneath him. He looks like a fallen angel, and only the broken mouth remains as evidence of his violent death.

Crouching again at Paul’s side, Satori places his fingers on the body’s cold, motionless chest. He closes his eyes and whispers old, magical words over and over again. Opening his eyes, he looks at Paul. The skin beneath Satori’s fingers glows.

‘Can you hear me?’ Satori asks.

‘Yes,’ replies a voice, Paul’s voice, although his huge mouth does not move.

‘Did Lilith do this?’ Satori asks.

‘Do you need to ask me that?’ Paul answers. ‘Are you afraid it was you?’

Satori shakes his head. His throat feels tight. ‘I-I know it wasn’t me.’ His forehead creases and his eyes darken. ‘No, it wasn’t…’

‘Lilith did this,’ Paul answers, breaking Satori’s chant.

‘Why?’

‘To get your attention,’ is Paul’s reply.

Satori’s throat constricts further. He fights to breathe.
It’s my fault
. Memories of burying Paul in the cellar push past the guilt. He grasps onto them. ‘But the bones! Paul, why are there bones buried in your cellar?’ Silence. For a moment Satori wonders whether the spell is broken, but Paul’s chest still glows. ‘Tell me,’ he demands.

‘You don’t want to know.’

‘Yes, I do. What did you do, Paul? Did you kill those children?’

‘Yes.’

‘Why? Why did you do it?’ Satori’s voice is high. A lump hovers in his chest, slowly making its way towards his windpipe.

‘For power, for pleasure, maybe both. Don’t hate me, Satori. I couldn’t stand it. Whatever I’ve done, whatever mistakes I’ve made, I do love you. Let me rest in peace, without your fury.’

‘Be gone!’ Satori shouts.

First the light in Paul’s chest dulls and dies then the body dissolves into vapour. Satori kneels on the floor. His hands shake. He reaches for his drink and finishes it in one gulp.

‘I’m sorry you died so violently, you old bastard,’ Satori tells his empty glass. ‘But, now I know what you’ve done, I cannot mourn for you.’

The scratch and click of keys unlocking the front door makes Satori look up. ‘Hi, Mum,’ he calls, rubbing his face with his sleeve.

‘Steve, you’re home.’ Marian walks into the room and sets her laptop and briefcase down on an empty chair. ‘You’d better phone Sarah and let her know you’re okay. She seems to have got a bit needy. I thought you’d split up.’

‘It’s complicated. Can I pour you a drink?’ Satori lifts his glass and makes his way to the liquor cabinet.

‘No thanks, love. I’ve got a telephone conference in twenty minutes. Do you need this room?’ She opens her briefcase and sets some papers out, across the coffee table, without waiting for his reply.

Satori sighs and grabs the whisky bottle by its neck. ‘It’s fine. I’ll be upstairs.’

‘Thanks, love. We’ll talk later,’ she assures him.

Settling on his bed, Satori pours himself another drink. The memories of his and Paul’s love-making resurface now. The blind passion he felt last night makes him nauseous.
Why didn’t I sense something?
He quells the thoughts with another fiery gulp.
Lust makes us fools. I wish I didn’t have a dick
. His eyes dart around the room and he covers his groin with his pillow. ‘I didn’t mean it,’ he whispers to the walls.

A fourth whisky and his thoughts start to dull. He lies back on his bed, closing his heavy eyelids, his pillow still resting on his pelvis. ‘What a day,’ he says aloud.

The memory of Star’s furious face as she stood in Paul’s doorway, demanding to see him, fills his head. He purses his lips and kisses the chimera. Then he’s rifling through Paul’s library again, searching for books to take home. Elated and devastated all at once, and with the uneasy feeling that he is still being watched.

The doorbell rings again.
What does she want now?
He’s tempted to ignore it, but it’s probably important. Renewing the glamour, he crosses the hallway.

A policeman and woman fill the doorway. Satori starts to sweat. His mouth won’t work.

‘It’s okay, sir. Nothing to worry about,’ says the policeman. ‘May we come in?’

Satori nods and leads them into the living room. They sit on separate chairs, facing each other. Both constables have their open notebooks on their laps. His head swims. The woman eyes him curiously. Realising he is holding his breath, Satori exhales. The sound is much louder than he expects. ‘Oh?’ he manages to squeak.

‘There’s been a report of a large dog, running around the neighbourhood,’ the policeman continues.

‘Do you own a dog, sir?’ the policewoman asks.

Satori shakes his head. ‘No.’ His mouth is painfully dry. ‘Drink?’ he offers.

‘I’ll get them,’ says the policewoman, leaving the room before he can protest.

‘Did you see a large, black dog in the area on Wednesday night, sir?’ the policeman asks.

Satori tears his eyes away from the empty doorway. He can hear the policewoman moving about in the kitchen.
Is everything as it should be in there?
He wonders. Turning towards the policeman, he studies the shiny face; he is about Satori’s age and has closely cropped strawberry-blond hair. ‘What?’ Satori asks.

‘A large dog. Did you see any large dogs the night before last, Mr…?’

Two amber eyes burn at him through the kitchen door as he watches the scarab beetles devour his murdered friend. He cannot suppress a shiver as he forces himself to focus on the policeman. ‘No, I didn’t,’ he says at last.

The policewoman returns to the room, empty-handed, and nods. Her colleague stands up and thanks Satori for his time. ‘If you remember anything, sir, or if you see a large dog, please call us straight away.’

Satori tries to give the officers a casual smile and follows them to the front door, locking it behind them. His strength deserts him and he falls to the floor, weeping silently.

Chapter 18

‘To Star,’ Satori lifts another glass of whisky and salutes the empty room.

Drink dulls the horror and terror of the day, but the spark of possibility burns as brightly as before—Star.

‘I love you,’ he murmurs into his glass. ‘I love you, and you came back.’ Remembering her defiance at Paul’s doorstep and her patient waiting at his own, he smiles but tears gather again in his eyes. She still loves him, even now, and yet he constantly betrays her trust, lies to her, manipulates her, and he doesn’t know whether he can stop. It’s like a disease. ‘Star, you have such power inside you. Why can’t you see it?’
I want to show you what you’re capable of. These visions, they’re the tip of an iceberg, my love. You have such beautiful, terrible depths.
‘Let me help you accept yourself. Come back to me.’